Doctor Who_ Lungbarrow - Marc Platt [77]
'Maybe.' Chris studied the floor. 'I've had a lot of bad dreams lately. But it's got worse here. I don't even have to be asleep. They don't even feel like my dreams. I've tried talking to the Doctor, but he's either too preoccupied or he doesn't want to know.'
'It's odd,' she agreed. 'If anyone was a target for the echoes here, I would have said it was him.'
And they're his dreams, thought Chris. I know they are. 'How does he do it? How does he carry on regardless?'
'He always has done,' she said.
He hauled himself unsteadily to his feet and looked again at the Family portrait. 'The old guy here. Was that real y the Doctor?'
She nodded. 'In his first life, yes. Housekeeper Satthralope forbade his name in the House when he was disinherited.'
'Goddess, that was cruel,' said Chris.
'He was more than able to fight back. That's why they hated him so much.' Innocet ran a finger along the base of the picture frame, studied the dust for a moment and dabbed it into her mouth. 'Where did you meet him?'
Chris blethered. 'Oh, a long way ago. A long time from here.' Hell, he thought. Past or future? What do I tell his own Family? 'He's a good friend,' he said and scanned the ancient room with its worn and oversized furniture.
'How old is this House?'
She seemed surprised. 'As old as any. Don't you come from one of the Houses?'
There was that piercing look again as if she was trying to read the pages of his mind, but had the book upside down. 'Um ... not a home like this,' he said, awkwardly breaking her stare.
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She walked into the centre of the room. 'There's so much we will have to learn when we get out. They say the Houses are the oldest living things in the world. The first ones were grown during the Intuitive Revelation. They certainly feel as if they've been here forever.'
'I don't believe he killed Quences,' Chris affirmed. 'Or Arkhew for that matter.'
She nodded her eyes towards a mirror at the far end of the room. 'My goodness!' She affected a laugh. 'What a lot Quences will have to talk about when he wakes up!'
Chris turned his back to the mirror and muttered, 'Who are you hiding this from? You can't hide it forever.'
'We could until now.' Her voice had darkened again. 'I can't vouch for the Doctor's safety. Not even from myself.
Not if he interferes.'
'It's a bit late for that.'
She pulled in close to him. 'Have you been with him ever since you arrived?'
'Yes,' he said emphatically.
Damn, he thought. He left me on my own twice. Once in the attic and once in the funguretum. Either time he could have met Arkhew and…. Damn, damn, damn!
'Listen, listen,' muttered Satthralope.
Glospin watched the old woman as she rocked slowly in her chair. 'You didn't say anything about Arkhew,' he said.
'It can wait.' She was turning the keys on their giant ring. One after another in a slow, steady rhythm.
They clicked on the wooden ring on her finger. 'Listen. Are you listening? You've been asleep.'
'What are you doing?' he said, although he already knew.
' It must be told,' she crooned. She was staring straight into the mirror. Rocking.
'Not yet.' He moved angrily towards her, but the Drudge blocked his path. 'No, not yet. Don't wake the House.'
She clinked another key round. Her voice was gentle, almost caressing. 'You must stay, Glospin. I'll need you. It may not listen.'
He turned to the Drudge. 'You stay. I'm not involved.'
As he ran for the door, he heard another key clink round.
The walls shuddered.
'I heard you were back, Wormhole,' said Rynde.
He had waylaid the Doctor on a gallery above the Hal . The attendant Drudge reached for the Doctor's arm.
'I'm a guest,' the Doctor said. 'I'll talk to whom I like.'
'You won't like me,' Rynde said. 'But then you never did.' He walked slowly round the Doctor, admiring the little man's extraordinarily clean apparel. He tugged at the decorated scarf.
'That's mine, thank you.' The Doctor slapped his hand away.
'What else have you brought?'
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'Nothing for the likes of you!' The Doctor shot a