Doctor Who_ Bad Therapy - Matthew Jones [87]
‘I know,’ she said, her mouth tight.
‘It is not easy for a husband to explain why his wife does not wish to sit beside him. It is harder still for a king. For all his bluster, the king is a private man, but I know that his heart aches, and he has been so patient –’
‘Enough, Ala’dan!’ Gilliam hadn’t meant to shout. ‘That’s enough,’ she said, more quietly, back in control.
The sudden silence between the two old friends was painful for Gilliam to bear. Perhaps it was painful for them both. Gilliam didn’t know how to break through it.
‘I should inform the king of what you have discovered here,’ the chancellor said, his voice carefully formal. ‘No doubt he will wish to come and see for himself.’
‘Whatever,’ Gilliam murmured.
Ala’dan made to leave, but something held him back. ‘You won’t. . . touch anything, will you, Highness?’ he said, and then gathered up his robes before hurrying from the chamber.
Gilliam walked around the room, rereading some of the familiar passages on the walls, the chancellor’s words echoing in her mind all the while. The unspoken meaning of them was clear. He was really asking her not to leave.
Not to try and use the bird/globe device to flee her husband, just as Petruska had once tried to and failed.
The task was over. There wasn’t any reason to stay in the ruined palace any longer. If she intended to remain with the king then she might as well return to the royal barge now. There were meetings to be rescheduled, ambassadors to be apologized to: all the usual components of royal life aboard the Jewelled Sword.
Or.
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Or she could gather up the few possessions which she had brought with her and – well, leave. Standing in Petruska’s room, the choice felt unavoidable.
Even standing still and doing nothing until Ala’dan arrived with the king was, in effect, a choice.
Later, when she thought back to this moment, she couldn’t put her finger on exactly what it was that had finally made up her mind. Perhaps it was the noise of a shuttle crossing overhead which just might have turned out to be the king? All she could remember was turning very deliberately on her heel, collapsing the thermo-tent and stowing it in her holdall, before adjusting the control on the null-gravity belt and gliding down over the side of the pit and into the darkness.
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10
You’re Gonna Need Someone On Your
Side
‘Sergeant, I really don’t have time for this!’
‘You’ve got all the time in the world, all the time in the world.’
‘If you would just contact Inspector Harris, he’ll explain everything. In fact, you ought to contact him immediately. I’m informally assisting him with a murder inquiry and he’ll be very angry that you’re keeping me down here.’
‘Is that right?’ Sergeant Bridie pulled a packet of Players out of his pocket and lit one, offering the packet to the Doctor who was seated opposite him.
The Doctor shook his head irritably, and drummed his fingers on the table.
‘I packed that in centuries ago. Knocks years off your life.’
‘Centuries ago?’ Bridie chuckled. ‘You don’t seem to have done so badly,’ he said and blew out a cloud of smoke.
‘Would you mind not doing that? I’m sure I must have the right to clean air or something?’
‘You have the right to a solicitor. You’ve already refused to see the duty solicitor.’
‘Why would I want to speak to a solicitor?’ the Doctor said, looking genuinely puzzled. ‘A spot of late-night conveyancing perhaps? What I want is to see Chief Inspector Harris or, better still, to be released.’
‘Well, Chief Inspector Harris doesn’t want to see you. You’ve caused him a considerable amount of professional embarrassment.’ Bridie leant forward.
‘Why did you do it, anyway?’
‘Do what?’
‘Well, there’s impersonating a hospital pathologist, for starters.’
The Doctor sat back in his chair. ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘You know about that, do you? I never actually claimed to be a pathologist. I was just, well, mistaken for one.’
‘When Chief Inspector Harris found you, you were conducting an autopsy