Doctor Who_ So Vile a Sin - Ben Aaronovitch [97]
Roz watched her go. It was as though the grief had reduced her to nothing, just a wailing woman like anyone in a crowd, anyone in a news sim.
Roz sat down next to the Doctor. He didn’t look at her. After a minute she realized he wasn’t blinking, his eyes fixed on the landscape. She didn’t know if he was even aware she was there.
It pissed her off. What the hell did he have to be shaken up about? He hadn’t known Somezi and Mantsebo as babies. It wasn’t his home the horror had invaded, his sister having hysterics in the next room.
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She leant against the glass, closing her eyes for a moment, suddenly aware of how tired she was. She’d come home, and she’d brought the monsters with her.
‘They were after me,’ he said.
Roz’s eyes snapped open. She’d almost fallen asleep. ‘What?’
‘They wanted me. Instead, they killed Leabie’s children.’
‘That can’t be right,’ said Roz. ‘That doesn’t make sense.’
‘And what am I going to do about it?’ said the Doctor. ‘What am I going to do?’
‘Nothing,’ said Roz. ‘You’re wrong. This wasn’t about you.
This was an attack on the family. No, you are going to do something.’
‘What am I going to do?’ said the Doctor.
‘You’re going to help me find out who was behind this.’
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Meanwhile
Mont Blanc, Europe, 17 July 2982
Duke Geoffrey Armand looked up at the Alps. Naked of trees, naked of snow. Barren. Waiting for the time when the pines would once again march up the valleys and the winters would be soft and white. Waiting the way he was waiting.
Armand was tall and handsome, very aristocratic-looking, dark-skinned and curly-haired, and it wasn’t a bepple. He came from some of the best stock. The High Sheriff had come from his family for three generations.
He had walked five kilometres along the valley floor, beside a crisp and freezing stream. His estate was a ten-kilometre-wide strip of preserved land, although some of the mountains had needed repairs after a local war in 2547. It was a shame the water wasn’t safe to drink. He sat down on a rock, wiping the sweat from his brow.
In the distance, his personal home was a vast structure, built into the side of a mountain. A beautiful wooden structure that looked out over the valley. The bulk of the house was inside the mountain, including the family archives and a survival unit that could handle a nuclear strike.
His harem were fighting again. He’d left the servants with strict instructions to prevent any physical violence, and walked out of the house, not even telling security where he was going.
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You’d think they’d show him a little respect. He kept them in luxury – they could go wherever they liked, do whatever they wanted. They didn’t even have to sleep with him. You’d think they’d listen when he shouted at them to shut up. Maybe they’d show him a little more respect. Soon. When his plans came to fruition.
His personal secretary would be in a complete flap by now; Armand had given him the slip. After an hour’s walking, he was reasonably sure he wasn’t being followed. There’d be a search party soon, though.
He got up again, stretching, noticing the ache in his thighs, just over each knee. He really ought to get more exercise.
‘Greetings Duke Geoffrey Howard Armand of Europe, Lord High Sheriff of Earth,’ said a dozen voices.
Armand looked around. There was a woman standing not ten feet away. She had delicate cheekbones and large, dark eyes, but he could see trained muscles under the sleeves of her white jacket. Her face was utterly blank.
‘I speak for the Brotherhood,’ said the woman. He could hear one voice – twelve voices – a hundred voices – echoes at the edge of his consciousness.
‘For the Grandmaster,’ he said.
‘Yes. I have been sent to inform you. The attack was partly successful but the objective was not achieved. Further plans are in progress.’
‘Not achieved!’ Armand stood up, poking his finger into the