Doctor Who_ Lungbarrow - Marc Platt [75]
'It was nonsense,' she insisted. 'What did Arkhew say?'
'He didn't understand either.'
'Good. That business is long finished.'
'OK. Sorry.' Chris turned back to the picture. 'I can't see the Doctor. Is he taking the portrait, or was he disinherited by this point?'
'Look again. Look for the... kil er?' That word was still giving her trouble.
Chris rescanned the gathering. Most of the faces had a defiant look that suggested they would rather be elsewhere. But at the back of the group he noticed the figure of an elderly man, his face raised in an arrogant and withering glare of contempt. He wore a grey-green robe and his long white hair was combed back. He looked like the bad-tempered relation no one wants at parties, but are too scared not to invite.
'It's him,' said Chris, pointing at the figure. 'That's the one. He was in black then, but he's the one who killed Quences.'
'Yes,' Innocet agreed, frighteningly calm. 'That's him. I saw him leave the Ordinal-General's room moments before I found the body. He was the Doctor.'
***
'Framed,' muttered the Doctor. 'Lies! Not guilty! I've been set up. I deny it al !' Outraged, he turned away from Satthralope's mirrors and saw the advancing Drudges.
Simultaneously, the young man in the glass swooned and Innocet struggled under his weight.
Satthralope, stil in hiding, waited until the Drudges held the Doctor fast. At her command, the free-standing reflections shimmered away to nothing, opening out the room and disclosing herself and Glospin.
'So,' she said and hobbled towards her prisoner.
'Snooping again, Satthralope? Don't believe everything you see in mirrors.' To her annoyance, he showed no surprise at her appearance. 'What have you done? Why are you skulking down here in the dark? Burying my Cousins alive.'
110
Glospin moved forward angrily, but a sudden sweep of Satthralope's cane put pay to his advance. 'Plenty of time for that.'
'Back in favour again, Glospin?' teased the Doctor. 'At least Cousin Innocet has a sense of forethought. She got to the laws of Housepitality way ahead of you two old squintlocks . Result: you can't lay a demented finger on me. Not while I'm an honoured guest in the House.'
The Housekeeper buttoned her rage tightly. 'Those laws can be rebargained. In the meantime, you will observe such etiquettes as are expected of a tolerated guest.' She bowed her head with as little reverence as she could bear. 'So Doctor, since that is how you style yourself...'
'Since you saw fit to remove my nominal identity,' he observed, easing himself free of the Drudges.
'... so we welcome you to the House of Lungbarrow. Partake of its meagre facilities as we have endured them for the past six hundred and seventy-three years.'
'Time is absolute for those who stand outside it.' He glanced at a clock on his wrist. 'It's the relatives that are time-consuming.'
'You are still late.'
'Late? Yes, I could be late. But still? No, you must be muddling me up with someone else.' He rubbed some strands of web off his hand. 'It's a lie, you know. I never killed Quences.'
'What?' she said and turned to Glospin. 'What's he talking about now? Quences is waiting. The old fool's been waiting all this time for him.'
Glospin smiled and nodded. 'Yes, House-nana. That's right.'
'Haven't you shamed us enough, Doctor? You were summoned by the Kithriarch, but you never came.'
He shrugged. 'I never got the invitation.'
'So you say. But since you have come back to us at Otherstide, which I recall is also your name day, there will be a special supper in your honour to welcome you home at last.'
The Doctor bowed reverently. 'Talking of home, when was this place last pruned back?' He fished out a pair of scissors and waved them at the Drudge. 'You'll need more than just a pair of secateurs. There are branches extending rooms al over the place. And a nasty case of trunk bloat on the lower levels.'
Satthralope felt her temper run out. 'Show him to the library,' she instructed one of the servants. 'And leave him there