Doctor Who_ Set Piece - Kate Orman [27]
‘I am wealthy enough for two wives,’ he was saying, too quickly. ‘I would not make you a mere concubine. You would spend your time playing music and senet, and the servants would bring you date wine. I would give you anything your heart desired.’
‘No,’ she whispered. ‘No, Sedjet, no. I can’t stay here, I can’t stay in this place forever. I have to find my friends. I have to leave.’
‘Don’t you understand?’ said the nobleman. ‘Your friends aren’t going to come back.’
‘I don’t belong here. I have to go, I have to get out of here!’
‘Tepy, listen to me. Listen, sister. They are not coming back for you.’
Benny was stooped over the Doctor, frantically trying to get a response out of him. Blood was trickling from his mouth and nose, sluggishly. His eyes had flickered shut.
Oh, God.
Oh, my God.
The icy certainty she had known on the alien ship came back into her.
He really had died, hadn’t he?
‘It doesn’t hurt.’ She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to find some part of herself that wanted to cry. ‘Why doesn’t it hurt?’
Sedjet looked at her, his smooth face crumpling with very real grief.
No ruby slippers. ‘I just feel cold,’ she said.
‘People from Perivale don’t feel the cold.’
‘I’m not from Perivale,’ she whispered. ‘I’m an Egyptian.’
52
Chapter 5
Yesterday, When I Was Mad
[Paris is] the only place in the universe where one can relax entirely.
(The Doctor, City of Death)
Paris 1871 CE
Normally, when he woke up, it was very sudden: snapping from oblivion into consciousness, sometimes so abruptly he had to think about it to be sure he’d slept at all.
But this was a slow return from the darkness. The first flickerings of awareness, becoming aware of awareness. He was drifting up through murky water, some dim light above him or below him, the weight of the ocean pressing against his eyes. There were doors he couldn’t quite reach.
With an effort he forced them open.
The light made him blink. He tried to take in all the details. But it was gibberish, charivari, chiaroscuro, son et lumière.
He closed his eyes again. Stick to the basics, one thing at a time. He was alive. Always a good start. He was lying down. There was a restrictive weight on his chest and arms, something plastic clinging to his face. His breathing made a noise. Plastic over his mouth and nose.
He rolled over and out of the bed, out from the heavy covers. The floor was cold. The respirator mask jerked part of the way loose and he batted it free of his hair.
The room reeled around him as he tried to catch his breath. He could see a door, upside down. A way to get out. He pushed himself to his knees, grabbed the bed and dragged himself to his feet. Keep moving.
He fell against the door and scrabbled at the knob. Locked. Simple lock. It wouldn’t take long to pick it.
But there were sounds, sounds coming from behind the door! Someone was coming! He needed to get out, get out quickly.
He made it the few feet across the floor to the window, ripping the curtains open as someone put a key into the lock. The window was not locked. He wrenched it open, dragged himself through. Keep moving.
53
He found himself on a tiled roof. The sun! He raised a trembling hand against the physical force of its light.
The sky and the dancing buildings waved up and down like the ocean. He crawled across the roof, clinging hard to the tiles, tasting blood. He wasn’t sure where he was heading, what he would do next, but it didn’t matter. Keep going, keep moving, get away!
There was a shout behind him. He twisted his head around. Someone was leaning out of the window, yelling at him to stop, to stop being an idiot. She snaked out of the window and landed on the tiles, graceful as an animal, and came after him.
He lost his grip, rolling down the roof, snatching at the tiles as he fell. There was a lurch as he went over the edge, a fierce jerk in his shoulders. He opened his eyes, squinting against the burning sky, and realised he was holding onto the gutter. Perhaps someone was shouting below him. He didn’t look down.
He remembered something falling out of