Doctor Who_ Left-Handed Hummingbird - Kate Orman [34]
‘Our weapons,’ the Doctor had said, ‘are not our own.’
They had walked perhaps twenty feet ahead of the others. Ace found herself stumbling, trying to keep up. ‘What did you find in the cave?’
‘The Hallowe’en Man was a tram,’ he said, his voice coming out of the forest in front of her. ‘He was just following the rails that had been laid down for him. Think about the weapon, obtain the weapon, use the weapon.’
Was this a lecture, or was he just thinking out loud? ‘Those same rails may have been laid down many, many times. Here we are, in 1487. Columbus is five years away, Cortés thirty. Your ancestors have just finished fighting the Wars of the Roses. There are five centuries between us and the Hallowe’en Man. Five centuries disturbed by…’ His voice trailed off, and for a moment she could have believed he had melted into the trees.
‘What did you find?’
She stopped suddenly to avoid walking into him. He was standing still, facing her, blocking the path. ‘Whatever it is,’ he was saying, ‘it’s interested in death. Quite interested. And it likes weapons.’
‘My gun,’ said Ace. ‘You don’t want it to turn me into another Hallowe’en Man.’
‘No,’ he said. ‘You’re perfectly capable of doing that to yourself.’
With speed that surprised even her, Ace belted him.
He didn’t lose his balance, though his head moved with the blow, snapping to one side.
‘If you see what I mean,’ he had said.
Achtli huddled in the bottom of the canoe, shivering all over. ‘Can you feel it?’ asked the Doctor quietly. The priest nodded. ‘So can I,’ sighed the Time Lord.
‘Look,’ said Iccauhtli. ‘You can see the fires on the top of the temple.’ He pointed at the red beacon in the distance, looking out from Tenochtitlan in all directions, penetrating the night.
‘It must be almost dawn,’ the priest said. ‘They’ll already be preparing the sacrifices.’
‘How will it be done?’
‘Altars have been provided for the two visiting kings. Old Tlacaelel will sacrifice at the altar of the sun. And the mighty Ahuitzotl has the place of honour at the top of the Great Temple, killing men for Huitzilopochtli.’
‘You’re not going to do anything about it, are you?’ said Ace, without opening her eyes.
‘Any suggestions?’ said the Doctor.
‘You’ll just let them all die. All twenty thousand.’
‘Yes, Ace. I’m going to let them all die.’
She opened one eye. Did he look pale, or was it the torchlight? There might or might not have been a bruise forming across his left cheekbone. Did he bruise? She couldn’t remember.
Hitting him had been easy, so easy, so very sweet.
‘What will I do?’ he said, and he wasn’t really speaking to her. ‘Will I run to the temple, shout for them to stop? Will I cast down their civilization, kill their gods, wipe them from the face of the earth?’
Achtli was gazing at him with calm terror, quite certain that he could do what he said.
‘It’s already written in the book of history,’ he continued. ‘Painted in the records. Nothing I can do or say is going to change it. But there’s something else here, something that isn’t in the book, or wasn’t the last time I visited. Things have changed. Something’s wrong. Someone’s interfering. I need to find a way to read between the lines…’
‘Run to the temple,’ said Ace. ‘Shout for them to stop.’
The Doctor’s expression said make up your mind.
‘War’s different. This is – murder. Suicide. I don’t know. Stop it.’
‘Achtli,’ said the Doctor, ‘when do you best perceive the Blue?’
The young priest said, ‘We have a law that drunkenness is punishable by death. Only the very aged may drink cactus wine, except on special occasions.’
‘Why is that?’
He raised his hands in a gesture, as though trying to frame the meaning of what he was explaining. ‘The gods are wild and fickle, always looking for ways to break into the world. Every aspect of a person’s life is touched by the brush of the atlaca – their birth date, their good fortune, their fertility, their death. What hope do we have of keeping the supernatural away?’
‘By keeping it well‐fed,’ said Ace.
‘By not providing it with paths