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Time passed.

'Did this really happen to you?' said Innocet.

The Doctor was floating above the first Doctor's desk, trying to read his journal. 'Apparently so. Astral travel is certainly more accurate than your average reconstruction. Just don't let go of my hand.'

'What was that box thing?'

'Innocet! And you, a classicist!' he scolded. 'Now shush. I think I detect a certain thickening of the plot.'

130

* * *

Journal Entry. Otherstide Eve.

Sixth day since the box's intriguing arrival and it stil defies my attempts to analyse it. I am certain that the continuing security alarms across the Capitol are linked to its appearance. The Chancellery Guards are getting very jumpy. I gather that no one was even aware of the existence of most of the alarms that are sounding. Which is why it took so long to turn them off! And now there is talk of a curfew. Natural y, there are no bulletins to explain what is happening.

They have searched my rooms twice, but the box, with its capacity to move faster than I can blink, continual y eludes them. It continues to follow me about, whining like a lost street-whelp, and today I believe it actually saved my life. A large piece of masonry fell from the renovation work on the Observation Tower. (I say 'fel ', but that may be the judgement of one who looks too kindly on the world.) For the briefest moment I saw the missile descend towards me, then there was a flash like lightning and it dissolved in the air above my head.

The next time I saw the box, it had a skein of fine dust clinging to its surface. I conclude that despite my investigations, my 'visitor' will ultimately reveal its identity or purpose to me in its own good time.

Tomorrow is my name day, so felicitations all round no doubt. Also the old man's Deathday. He certainly chooses his moment.

' Arrogant as ever,' commented Innocet.

'It's a family trait,' said the Doctor.

'I cannot imagine what you find so amusing. This whole business is completely gruesome.'

'Frightening,' he agreed. 'I was just admiring his potential.'

***

The old Doctor's rooms had been left in chaos, strewn with torn papers and books.

'Agency vandals!' he cursed as he sorted through the mess.

'Otherstide felicitations,' said the black-haired old villain behind him. Glospin, old Glospin, leaning heavily on his cane.

The old Doctor's chin went up in that familiar attitude of defiance. 'What's this, Cousin? A nameday treat? Hmm?'

'I'm no Cousin of yours, remember?'

'How could I forget?'

'So I hope you weren't considering a visit to your former home.'

'Charmed, I'm sure.' The Doctor gathered up a fistful of papers. 'You come al this way, after all this time, when you must be due at the House yourself. What's the matter? Afraid of losing your inheritance!'

'My assumption as new Kithriarch has never been more assured,' said Glospin. 'Quences is senile. But don't entertain the delusion that anyone else wants you back. You have already been replaced.'

The Doctor gave an involuntary gasp of shock. 'Impossible...' He reached to his desk for support. 'And il egal too.'

'A little premature, I felt. But with a few chosen words in suitable places...' He smiled. 'And so I deemed it a courtesy to clarify a few outstanding matters first.' He took a document from his robe. 'Your Loom Certification.'

'What now?'

131

'I was studying the document recently when I discovered some anomalies in your genetic codings.'

The Doctor snatched away the document.

'That's all right, Wormhole,' said Glospin smoothly. 'It's just a copy. But if you look, you will see that your codes are entirely out of sympathy with the Lungbarrow Loom's genetic template.'

'Nonsense.' The Doctor's face sharpened with irritation as he studied the document. 'This is some childish attempt to complete my severance from the Family.'

'I undertook this purely out of my interests as a geneticist. But of course, due to the Family circumstances...'

'Insulting.'

'It's not entirely unheard of. People renew their