Doctor Who_ St. Anthony's Fire - Mark Gatiss [40]
‘It may seem appropriate to say a prayer,’ he said in clipped tones.
The men began to bow their heads but he continued: ‘It may seem appropriate, but it isn’t. Our people have been slaughtered. And the best way we can remember them is to forget about the pathetic crutch of religion and avenge them! Cover their blood with the blood of their murderers!’
The back window suddenly shattered and the cabin lurched with a rending screech of metal. Bernice hit the wall with the side of her face and stumbled into the corner.
Liso looked around fearfully, his bony head whipping back and forth.
‘Portrone!’ gasped the helmsman.
Liso swung round just as the whole room was plunged into shadowed darkness. A deep, resonant throb assailed their senses.
Bernice glanced upwards, her throat drying in fear. Something was out there. Waiting.
* * *
Ran stood aloof, arms folded, as his men searched the dank gloom of the Temple.
‘You’ll forgive the intrusion, I’m sure, Thoss. Commander Grek was most insistent that the beast be captured.’
Thoss held up his claws. ‘Don’t worry about it. I mean, we can’t have dangerous animals running loose in the place, can we?’
Ran smirked. ‘Quite.’
The soldiers emerged from the shadows. ‘Nothing, sir.’
Ran sighed. ‘I thought not. Well, sorry to have troubled you, my friend.’
Something in the corner seemed to catch his eye but he turned back to Thoss almost immediately. ‘I shall endeavour to get to Temple before too long.’
Thoss smiled. ‘Good, good. No doubt for the victory celebrations, eh Ran?’
Clicking his heels smartly, Ran ascended the stairs, followed closely by his men.
Thoss waited a full minute before reopening the hidden stairwell.
The Doctor was shivering with cold and sitting on the second step. The others stretched away like rotten piano keys into the darkness.
‘That was close,’ said Thoss. ‘Now, I want you out of there in case they come back.’
The Doctor glanced back down the steps as he clambered out. ‘Where do those lead?’
‘Never mind that. Out. Out!’ Thoss flapped his claws in agitation.
The Doctor tried to calm him down. ‘But we need to speak, Thoss.’
‘Later, Doctor, later. The Temple is not a thoroughfare. There will be time enough…’
‘No!’ shouted the Doctor gravely. His face was so stern that Thoss was immediately silenced.
‘There won’t be time,’ said the Doctor. ‘That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. The earthquakes are symptomatic of a far greater problem. Those readings I took in my ship together with everything I’ve observed lead to an inescapable conclusion.’
Thoss’s eyes twinkled wetly. ‘Well?’
‘Your texts are right, Thoss. Betrushia is dying. It may only have a matter of days.’
* * *
8
Servus Servorum Dei
Parva de Hooch tapped his pudgy little fingers on the elaborately carved wooden cabinet at his side.
Dressed in purple robes like a swaddled pig, he was a dwarfish man, his nose wide and ugly, his feverishly bright eyes like beads of black blood in the clammy little balloon of his face.
The room around him was large and, by the standards of the seminary, decidedly cheerful. Mahogany niches housed crumbling marble representations of a thin, ascetic‐looking man, his white eyes rolled heavenwards, his delicate hands held out before him in supplication.
Sunlight streamed through the open, diamond‐patterned windows. Bright, clear bells tolled gently. Somewhere a swallow was trilling.
De Hooch opened the cabinet and felt around in the musty darkness until his childlike hands rested on something. Swiftly he pulled out the object and concealed it beneath the folds of his robes. Then he crossed to his desk and sat down on the padded chair, its seat piled high with cushions in an effort to increase his inconsiderable height.
‘Come!’ he called, adjusting the skull‐cap which was clapped tightly onto his totally bald head.
The woman came in, her head bowed low so that she could not see him. She seemed