Doctor Who_ Lungbarrow - Marc Platt [47]
'I'm worried that they may have passed on, gone away like Maljamin.'
Rynde gave a rasping guffaw. 'Arkhew might. He's always been on the edge. But you won't get rid of Owis. Not if there's still food about.'
'I must find them,' she said. 'I know something dreadful is going to happen.'
'Don't jump at your own reflection, Cousin. It might only be Satthralope leering out at you.' He laughed again and held up a something furry and dead. 'Feeling peckish? Anything to offer in exchange?'
'Certainly not,' said Innocet, pulling her coat around her.
Rynde leered and stuffed the animal in one of his many pouches. 'I'll tell them if I see them.' He sauntered off down the passage, a knotted string of dead shrews dangling and dancing down his back.
***
Chris kicked at the stove with his boot. The metal rang with the blow and the stove snapped its lid aggressively.
But the latch stayed jammed.
At least it shut Glospin up for a minute.
While Chris tried to force the metal door, there had been a barrage of questions. Who was he? Who had sent him? How did he get in? He ignored most of them and was non-committal over the rest. This man cal ed Glospin, doing solitary inside a stove, was an ID/unD: undeciphered. He could be a different Gallifreyan with the same name. Or that same evil bastard of a Gallifreyan he'd encountered in his dream, only with a different body on: a total body bepple. The Doctor could regenerate, Chris knew that. His body just seemed to be something he went about in. So maybe the process came naturally to the rest of his race as wel . De rigeur, as the simpering select class of the Overcity would say.
'Are you some sort of guard?' began Glospin again. His eye was squinting sideways through the grating.
Chris snorted. 'You could say that.'
'Thought so. The clothes don't fool me.'
'I'm off duty,' said Chris.
'How did you get in? Down the chimney?'
'Hardly.' Chris had found a rusty pan handle and was trying to jam it into the door.
'Which Chapterhouse? You can't be Prydonian - your face is too honest.' He gasped in sudden pain.
'What is it?' said Chris.
'My legs! No circulation. I can't move in this thing. Get me out of here!'
64
The pan handle buckled in Chris's hands and tore one of his fingernails. He yelped in pain and stuck the finger in his mouth.
'Get me out now!' Glospin snarled.
Chris stood back from the stove. He didn't like that tone. His immediate concern had knocked something vital to the back of his mind. 'Better tell me why you've been locked up in there,' he said.
He saw the eye shift past him to stare along the passage. There was new light coming in from somewhere.
'Chris, you're making enough noise to wake the House itself,' said the Doctor.
He came scuttling out of a different passage. He carried a lamp in one hand, his trousers were soaking wet and grey powder was streaked over his jacket. 'Time to move. The natives are getting -, He was shaking out his dusty hat, when he apparently realized that they were not alone.
He gave an oily smile and gestured the lamp towards the ceiling. 'Of course, there may be a few problems with damp, but the general structure is sound and it is, you will agree, a most advantageously appointed property with a delightful aspect overlooking the val ey.'
He met the stare of the eye at the grating.
'You!' whispered Glospin.
The Doctor blew the flame of the lamp out.
'It's you.' Glospin's voice was chilled with contempt.
'Gods of Purgatory, it is you!'
'Not necessarily,' said the Doctor, pulling down his hat to hide his face in the twilight. He laughed awkwardly. 'Have we met? No, I don't think so. So sorry. Must dash.'
Chris caught his arm. 'You can't leave him in there. He's trapped.'
'No worse than he deserves, I'm sure.' The Doctor yanked himself free.
'You!' accused Glospin. 'I'd know that ego anywhere. The bloody bile you have, slinking back in after everything.
After all this time!'
'I'm sure you're making some mistake.' The Doctor shot a sidelong glance at Chris.