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Chris had never been religious – not since Jallafillia, anyway –

but he knew, at a glance, that this was the thing which priests were terrified of, the thing which lurked in the darkness behind every school of faith and philosophy. Creation’s shadow.

– But there are as many Devils as there are stories of Devils, as there are people to be afraid of Devils. The Carnival Queen was laughing, yes she was, yes I am. And am I the bringer of despair, the harbinger of doom, the creator of machiavellian evils? Non. Am I the fallen angel, Heaven’s first rebel, the one God weeps for in the middle of the night?

Non. Am I the serpent in paradise? Non. Am I the voice of the jungle, the one who dances in the cracks of the clockwork...?

Chris was sure the Carnival Queen blushed.

– Well, maybe.

‘Pepperoni and balderdash!’ exclaimed the Doctor, dramatically. ‘Your claims are nonsensical, and your stories are riddled with contradictions.’

– I like contradictions.

Chris levered his attention away from the Carnival Queen and focused on the Doctor. ‘Listen to me, Chris. Nothing she’s told you is true. Nothing she’s told you makes any sense.’

Chris wondered how the Doctor knew what the Carnival Queen had told him, but he didn’t press the point. ‘She’s a phantom. She has no place in this universe. She’s a refugee from a lost continuum, a leftover from another time, summoned by psionic resonances between the material world of the eighteenth century and the non-linear matrices that exist on the periphery of the vortex. That’s all.’

Chris frowned. So did the Doctor. Somehow, the Time Lord didn’t sound as if he’d been convinced by his own words.

– He’s making this up, said the Carnival Queen. None of that made scientific sense. It just sounded scientific. Typical Watchmaker trick. If you want to save the day, Doctor, why don’t you just reverse the polarity of the –

‘Enough!’ snapped the Doctor.

– You see? Space monsters he can handle, but anything outside his own little clockwork universe... it’s all Daleks inside that brain of his. Daleks gliding up and down corridors, Daleks coming out of rivers, Daleks burning down jungles...

‘Enough,’ repeated the Doctor.

-... invisible Daleks, Daleks from parallel universes...

‘I warn you now –’

– ... Daleks being pushed out of windows...

‘I’ve already told you my reasons,’ the Doctor fumed, and Chris wondered what he meant by that. ‘The universe has decided on its path. You have no right to do this. You have no right to change any of it.’

– Decided? The Watchmakers are hardly democratic. The

‘universe’ never decided. Christopher never ‘decided’. Look.

All this... and she gestured towards the curious majesty of the un-city, though it wasn’t entirely clear what kind of limb she was gesturing with... – all this is his.

The Doctor whirled around to face Chris. Who blushed.

‘Sorry,’ he said, looking away guiltily.

The Doctor’s fingers drummed the silver handle of his cane. He looked up at the Carnival Queen again, staring straight into the centre of her ever-changing body. Chris wondered how he could do that without his head hurting.

‘Very well,’ the Doctor said. ‘I’m sure we can reach an agreement.’

– Agreement? And the Carnival Queen’s voice was amused as much as it was suspicious.

‘You claim that given the choice, the people of the universe will choose your way instead of mi... instead of the way things are. True?’

– If they understand what the choice is.

‘And Chris understands?’

‘Er,’ said Chris.

– Yes, yes. She sounded impatient. – Chris has already made his choice. I told you.

‘Er, well,’ said Chris. ‘I wouldn’t say I’d made a choice. I just... you know... let things happen.’

The Doctor looked smug. ‘There, you see?’

– What are you suggesting, Doctor?

‘One question. We ask Christopher one question. If he sides with you, the irrational universe is yours. I won’t interfere. If he sides with me...’

– Ah, don’t be too confident. He’s seen so much since he came here. Enough to change the shape of his whole life. If you’re counting on his loyalty to you...