Doctor Who_ St. Anthony's Fire - Mark Gatiss [64]
He smiled as he thought of Testra, laughing with her beautiful head thrown back, her eyes brimming with tears.
He could do it. For her.
* * *
Magna Yong was bathing when De Hooch came thundering into his chambers, his fat little arms spiralling in agitation.
‘Magna! Magna!’ he cried.
Yong plunged himself into the giraffe’s‐milk pool and his sleek black hair blossomed on the surface.
De Hooch threw himself down by the side of the enormous circular bath and splashed his hand in the warm milk. ‘Magna! My Lord! Hear me!’
Yong’s head appeared, milk dripping over his almond‐shaped eyelids. ‘De Hooch, for a little person, you make an awful lot of noise.’
De Hooch ignored this and smoothed down his wrinkled robes. Yong stepped from the bath and towelled off the excess milk from his honey‐coloured skin. As he pulled on a black robe he noticed the extensive bruising on De Hooch’s face. ‘Dear me, you have been in the wars. Has the lady eluded you, Parva?’
De Hooch bowed his head, ashamed. ‘She is a hell‐cat, Magna. I was about to cut out her tongue when she flung me against the wall.’
Yong’s black irises dilated. ‘The nerve.’
‘Indeed, my Lord.’ De Hooch clasped his hands behind his back. ‘Then she ran off.’
Yong glided across the tiled floor and sat down in his opulent throne. Spread out on the table before him was an assortment of jellied sweetmeats. Children’s limbs in jars and pickled organs in dark glass bottles dominated.
Yong chose a shrivelled, etiolated baby’s cheek and nibbled quietly at it, his eyes scanning De Hooch amusedly as the dwarf continued.
‘In my considered opinion, Magna,’ said De Hooch, ‘her conditioning is failing.’
Yong stopped eating, his face suddenly set in an expressionless mask. ‘That is impossible, De Hooch, as well you know. Our conditioning never fails.’
‘Of course not, my Lord,’ bleated De Hooch, ‘but there is always an exception which proves the rule.’
Yong’s eyes glittered like jet. ‘Then I shall change the rule. This woman must be made an example of. Find her, Parva. Find her and bring her to me.’
‘Yes, my Lord.’
Yong slid a long, thin finger over his mouth. A droplet of giraffe’s milk clung to his lips. ‘Don’t let me down, De Hooch. I should hate to have to make an example of you as well.’
De Hooch’s throat constricted. ‘No, my Lord. I mean… yes, yes Magna.’
‘Is there anything else?’
De Hooch gathered Yong’s fresh robes and bodysuit from a bench and passed them to the Magna. ‘Not that I know of, my Lord.’
Yong began to pull the sleek material over his muscled legs. ‘Then leave me to dress, Parva. It must be nearly evening. Put out the sun as you go.’
De Hooch’s stunted hand felt for a switch and the light which blazed through the stained‐glass window was abruptly cut off.
* * *
The woman awoke from uneasy dreams as she realized she had been plunged into darkness. Cursing herself for falling asleep, she slipped off her goggles and gazed into the sudden, intense blackness.
Within its shield, the vast ball of plasmic energy seemed to have dimmed to a fraction of its former power. There was a low pulsing sound underscoring the humming and twittering of the machinery.
The woman stood up, feeling her skin bruising under her hessian robes, and moved across the chamber. She shot a look at the banks of circuitry and frowned. They reminded her strongly of something.
She passed a weary hand over her eyes and tried to concentrate. What was going on here? The seminary had always seemed such a simple place. Spartan even. The highest level of technology the Chapter possessed had produced the pewter plates and cutlery in the refectory. Now she had stumbled across a whole forbidden area. None of this tallied with her faith, with her understanding. It was all wrong. Just as it was wrong for her to obey that vile creature De Hooch.
The woman leant against the barrier and felt her shaved head. That was wrong too. She opened her mouth and tried to form words, almost remembering something.