Doctor Who_ Lungbarrow - Marc Platt [78]
Rynde grabbed him by the col ar. 'You will be.'
'I'm sorry I didn't come earlier, um ... Cousin Rynde, isn't it? I had plans.'
'So did we al ! I was Epicural Overseer to the Dromeian Chapterhouse.'
'Ah,' choked the Doctor, 'head waiter.'
'I was renowned for my skills at assembling banquets from the rarest provisions. Now all I eat is fungi and these.'
He held up a couple of braces of scrawny tafelshrews. 'There's only a limited number of ways you can cook them.
So I'd relish a change of menu.'
The Doctor looked uncomfortable. 'Where have all the others gone?'
'Away,' said Rynde.
The walls and floor shuddered. The Drudge raised its head as furniture along the gallery shuffled uncomfortably.
A sharp cry of pain came from an alcove.
'Who's your friend?' said the Doctor.
'Out you come, Owis,' Rynde called. He waited while his podgy Cousin sidled nervously into view.
'It bit me,' he said. 'The chair bit me.'
***
'Listen to me. We must wait.'
Satthralope clung to her chair. Now that was rocking too. The mirrors trembled in their frames.
'You must wait. Now he's here, al this can be finished. We can wake Quences when we are ready. But stay calm.
We must be calm.'
She felt the mood of the House tighten on her thoughts. She had been too quick. It was startled awake after a long, disturbed sleep. It dreamt the echoes that rattled along its cloisters and corridors.
'There, there. It'll soon be over. Stay calm. Stay calm. Nothing to worry about.'
The door slowly opened itself.
Across the entrance lay a shape. Half out of a sack, propped against the door frame. Its head lolled to one side.
Eyes cold and staring. The twisted body of Cousin Arkhew.
Satthralope stared in disbelief. One of the mirrors turned on its hinges, straining to see.
'Nothing to look at!' the Housekeeper gasped.
The mirror cracked across.
Owis gawped at the Doctor. 'Who is he?' he complained. 'What's going on? Why won't anyone tel me?'
'Ask him yourself,' said Rynde.
115
The Doctor was peering out of the gallery, up into the roof of the Hall. Something was hanging there, bulky, caught in the swags of web. He slid a catapult out of his pocket, noticed the Drudge and put it back again.
'Well,' said Owis, 'who are you, then?'
'Doctor!' shouted someone.
'Correct,' the Doctor said.
There were two figures on the gallery across the well of the Hal . Innocet and the young stranger. They started to move round.
A deep rumble began in the depths of the House. The furniture on the gallery started to edge out of its places.
Chairs, tables, al stalking slowly towards the Doctor.
Rynde pulled Owis clear.
The Drudge lunged at the Doctor. He stepped neatly to the side and reached into his jacket. Out of the flimsy garment, he drew an impossibly large umbrella. It opened over him like a huge coloured mushroom, hiding him from view. The Drudge knocked the object aside, but the Doctor had vanished.
The rumbling deepened.
'Behind you,' cal ed the Doctor from the balustrade. He swung his legs over the balcony and shinned down one of the tree trunks into the Hall.
The Drudge leant over the edge and gave a creaking cry of anger.
The House answered with a shudder of disapproval.
Innocet and the stranger joined Rynde and Owis as they stared hopelessly down.
'What's he doing?' muttered Rynde.
The Doctor was walking the length of the long Hall, heading towards the Loom plinth where Quences was laid out.
'Stop him,' said Innocet. 'Satthralope must have woken the House.'
'Wormhole!' yel ed Rynde. 'Get away from there. You'l get us al killed!'
The Doctor turned and waved. 'Why? What is there to be scared of?' He stopped in his tracks as a gang of heavy dining tables began to edge out of the alcoves.
The Drudge croaked an order from the gallery, and the tables moved in closer.
The young stranger suddenly grabbed hold of the coloured umbrella. He shut it up and furled the material. 'Doctor,'