Doctor Who_ St. Anthony's Fire - Mark Gatiss [35]
Old Thoss was sitting in the corner, his white‐spined head nodding up and down as he drifted in and out of sleep.
What had he said? All this was foretold? The war, the earthquakes, even the meteorite showers. And perhaps something else. The Doctor smoothed out the paper in his hand.
‘What have you got there?’ asked Thoss, glancing over.
The Doctor passed the paper to the old man who squinted his bulbous blue eyes in concentration. The dim light revealed the three words of the Pelaradator’s last message.
KETH KETH KETH
* * *
7
Pale Horseman
The small gondola of the Ismetch dirigible was studded with tiny windows, like square portholes, the glass in them curiously thick and crude. Bernice rubbed at the nearest with the sleeve of her coat.
It was badly steamed‐up and the endless vista of rainforest below was distorted by the glass, so that huge trees seemed to be bent inwards as though skulking in fear.
The dirigibles slid past with only the thrum of their engines to break the oppressive silence.
Ignored for the moment, Bernice strained to look at the other two ships hanging in the air behind Liso’s craft. She rubbed the back of her neck and blew air out of her cheeks, aware of the tense and unpleasant atmosphere in the gondola, as though a furious argument was about to erupt.
The crew of five remained at their posts as the dirigible fleet crawled towards the city of Porsim. Liso’s helmsman had said they were making good progress but Bernice found it difficult to see any difference. Whenever she looked out, the jungle seemed the same. Only the shadows of the three ships on the tree‐tops appeared to move.
Liso was looking out of the gondola’s bow, his monocular gaze darting back and forth as though desperate to detect any change, any sign of enemy intrusion.
In spite of her fear, Bernice felt sorry for the Portrone. All kinds of dreadful thoughts must be passing through his mind. The fate of his family, if he had any. And the fate of the place he knew and loved so well.
‘What do you expect to find in Porsim?’ blurted Bernice, almost as though the words had forced themselves out of her.
As before, Liso’s broad back remained turned towards her.
‘Portrone,’ said Bernice with a weary sigh, ‘I realize I’m a burden to you but…’
‘I did not give you leave to speak, beast,’ hissed Liso.
Bernice ruffled her dark hair and set her jaw angrily. Enough was enough.
‘If you could just accept me for what I am and treat me with a little respect…’
‘Respect?’
Liso swivelled his head round, his eye bulging in fury. ‘How do I know you’re not in league with the Cutch? Or that you don’t have some filthy mammal interest in this situation? Maybe I’ll find Porsim overrun with an invading army all like you.’
Bernice walked boldly towards him. ‘Not very likely, though, is it?’
Liso said nothing.
Bernice thought for a long moment as the glare of green from the jungle below reflected off her sweating skin.
‘I’d honestly like to help you, Portrone. I’m no good to anyone stuck in the corner. If there’s anything I can do…’
Liso stroked his socket, his long nails scraping on the exposed bone. ‘I told you I’d have you put off the ship –’
‘Well, why don’t you, then?’ blazed Bernice. ‘If you’re so grand and clever. Why don’t you?’
Liso turned to her with an interested eye.
This was it, thought Bernice. The moment when he realized that B. Summerfield gave as good as she got. That no talking lizard could play these kind of status games with her and expect to…
Liso gave a little jerk of the head and Bernice found herself being lifted up by two of the crew. They carried her bodily towards the stern of the gondola. One of them held her by the throat whilst the other slid open the largest window at the stern.
The dirigible’s engines roared deafeningly and freezing air streamed into the gondola, sending papers and loose mapping instruments slapping