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He looked at the Brotherhood. Iaomnet’s face stared blankly back.

‘Bang,’ said Chris.

He reached out and cut off her connection to the gestalt.

She tumbled out of her chair, becoming a tangle of arms and legs on the gazebo floor.

‘He shouldn’t be able to do that,’ said one of the guards.

Chris turned around. He shoved with all the might of his enhanced mind. They both flew backward, one flipping over the railing, the other smashing right through the plastiwood and landing in a pile of splinters.

‘He shouldn’t be able to do that, either!’ shouted the second guard.

‘And who is this?’ The Brotherhood said through Martinique’s mouth.

‘My name is Huitzilin,’ said the man with the blue eyes. ‘And I think you’ve just made a very serious mistake.’ He reached out for the Brotherhood’s speaker with a hungry hand.

But the hand was shifting, suddenly, and the Doctor was back.

He lost his balance, tumbling from the chair.

‘We have only another ten minutes of conjunction,’ said Martinique, in his dozens of voices. ‘I think we should move on to the alternatives in which you died.’

The Doctor tensed on the floor, trying to get up.

The Brotherhood watched as the change washed over him. ‘I see,’ they said. ‘In this alternative, your throat was torn open by a werewolf. Intriguing.’ They watched as the change ebbed away.

‘Again?’ said the Brotherhood.

‘Yes,’ moaned the Doctor. His fingers dug into the carpet, as though trying to find something to hold on to.

263

The change flowed over him. ‘In this alternative,’ said the Brotherhood, ‘you died of shock while being interrogated by a military telepath.’

The Brotherhood watched as the Doctor’s existence stretched and changed, stretched and changed. ‘A long life, and a busy one,’ they said. ‘And thousands of moments where you might have died.’

‘I’ll die before I help you,’ he whispered.

‘Yes,’ said the Brotherhood. ‘Thousands of times.’

‘You won’t find a reality where I helped you.’

‘Again?’ said the Brotherhood.

Stop this.

Martinique joined him on the floor, open-eyed marionette, dropped and empty.

‘What happened?’ breathed the Doctor. He seemed to be himself again. It was just that he didn’t seem to be able to get up off the floor.

Genevieve wanted to go to the Emperor and ask him what the hell was going on. She wanted to know why the palace was suddenly full of strangers, why half the security guards had been replaced, and what they wanted with Chris Cwej.

Part of her mind was telling her to accept the changes as a natural part of Walid’s coronation. Of course he was upgrading the staff, of course there’d be all sorts of strange visitors. She knew she could trust the Duke, the Emperor.

Even if for some strange reason he didn’t want to talk to her at the moment. For the last week.

Part of her mind was telling her to get out, fast.

Her mother’s wedding presents had included five acres of reclaimed land in Kenya, a gorgeous candelabra, a city block in New Zealand, and a secret château on Triton hidden under one of the cryovulcanism research bases, deep in a crater that spat out liquid nitrogen at odd intervals. It had a numbered account and a robot staff and no one in their right mind would go anywhere near it. ‘The Duke’s a powerful man,’ said her mother. ‘If he ever does anything that makes you afraid, go right there. And call me.’

264

Genevieve pulled on a red suit and some sensible shoes and pocketed the keycard to the safe house. She stuffed her handbag with credit cards and added a personal blaster. She left a message in her open diary saying she was going to do some shopping on Europa.

She was halfway to her shuttle when she heard the screams.

She looked back at the maze, horrified. What were they doing to that poor man?

A figure burst from the maze. For a moment she expected to see Mr Cwej, the security guards in full pursuit.

But it was Nikin, the little Jeopard servant.

‘ Haraktai’en! ’ the Jeopard shouted, racing past. Genevieve caught the lithe cat-man. ‘ Ja’Ra’shten shay! ’ he yelled, trying to break free. ‘ Ke cepep shay, haran, Ja