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"How do you know all this?" he said, plainly flattered. "Were you there?"

"You know I wasn't."

"Then how?"

"The Phazels told me. The slave gang. The old grumblies tell this story of your fight with the Process and how you got beaten up and did a runner. They tell it like some sort of ancient myth."

"The old grumblies?"

"Yeah, well, the young versions are a bit iffy. But then they've only just got here, haven't they? So they're bound to be a bit confused."

"Oh, yes," he said and smiled sympathetically.

"And another thing. You realize the Phazels are from Gallifrey. I mean they're Time Lords. But then you'd know that from Shonnzi." Her eyes flickered with anger for a moment. "You could have talked to me instead of him, you know. I thought you trusted me."

"Yes," he said. "Of course. Sorry."

Struth, thought Ace, either he's seriously out of his hat, or things have taken a turn for the better. She couldn't remember ever hearing him apologize to anyone before.

The next thing had to be tackled with a degree of caution. "The thing is . . . erm, they sort of expect you to sort it all out. I mean, I tried, Professor. But well, you know . . ."

"So you keep saying," he declared. "Is that all I need to know?"

"Well . . . you're better at this sort of thing than I am."

"I see. There's just one or two points I'm a bit hazy about."

"Like what?"

He smiled as if to allay any fears, but it looked like a brave face, speedily plastering over the cracks. "Phazels and grumblies and Time Lords," he said. "And this Gallifrey. Who exactly is he?"

Ace swore loudly. An expletive in Binary O1-serien that sounded like an angry phone number. She'd forgotten she knew it and had never really known what it meant, but it sounded agreeably damning. Even the Doctor looked startled.

She was in it up to her eyebrows and she hadn't a clue what to do next.

There was a clatter on the wooden steps outside. Ace spun round to stare at the trapdoor in the floor, dreading whatever was going to emerge from the world outside.

A head, plastered down with soaking red hair, appeared. It eyed them for a second and broke into a wide grin.

"Shonnzi," Ace exclaimed.

"You found him then," he said.

"Yeah. I found him. Where's Vael?"

Shonnzi touched his swollen lip and said, "Cleared off." He climbed up into the Doctor's attic and shook his head like a terrier emerging from a pond. A spray of water fanned outwards through the air. His clothes were drenched.

"What happened to you?" Ace said.

"I think it's called rain. Come and see."

"Later." She tried vaguely to block his way, but he was already pushing past. He peered shyly at the Doctor.

"I brought these," he said, holding out the battered hat and rod.

To Ace's horror, she found that the Doctor had climbed out of his chair and was advancing unsteadily towards the newcomer. "How do you do?" he said, switching into his most genial mode. He took the hat and rod and studied them curiously. "Mine?" he asked.

"You gave them to him," Ace said sharply.

"Ah."

Shonnzi looked uncomfortable and said, "Well, you dropped them really. But you said I could have them . . . in a dream."

"Did I?" said the Doctor, impressed. "You must be . . ."

"Shonnzi," said Shonnzi.

"Yes. I'm . . . erm. I'm . . . My friend here . . ."

"Ace," snapped Ace.

He waved a gracious hand. "Thank you. You're very kind. Perhaps you'd deal with the introductions."

"You're the Doctor and she's Ace," Shonnzi said.

"Thanks," Ace said flatly. Her annoyance made her feel immensely guilty.

"Are you coming down, or what?" said Shonnzi. "They're all waiting."

"What for?" she said.

"For me, of course," interrupted the Doctor with a smile. "Don't make such a fuss. I have a reputation to live up to. So let's go and find out exactly who I am."

"Professor!"

He marched towards the trapdoor and Shonnzi stood clear to let him pass. Ace ran after him, praying that she could bluff their way out.

As she came down through the door, the City hit her in the face. Sound exploded round her. The shock was almost deafening. The streets drummed with falling