Doctor Who_ The Room With No Doors - Kate Orman [98]
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Gufuu was still watching, impassive. The Doctor said, ‘You’re welcome to the empty pod. Although I’m afraid it no longer has its mysterious abilities. All of its “miracles” were caused by this poor creature’s attempts to get someone’s attention, or to protect himself.’ He rapped a knuckle against the cold metal shell of the pod. ‘Now he’s free, and he can’t be put back inside, believe me –
it’s just a lump of metal.’ He bowed to the daimyo. ‘It’s all yours. If you want it.’
They were all looking at the warlord – all the monks, the time travellers, the aliens. He had come all this way, fought so hard, lost an army for nothing.
His hand was on the hilt of his sword. In a moment, he would pluck out the shining steel, and the slaughter would begin.
Except, of course, that the superior warrior knows when not to fight.
Gufuu-sama pushed the sword back down into its scabbard. Joel noticeably jumped at the sound.
Without a word, the warlord turned and walked away. The samurai parted around him. A moment later, bewildered, they followed.
The Doctor watched until they had all squeezed back out through the breach in the wall. Cold dust was settling around the pod as its hissing fell away into silence.
He turned. Now everyone was looking at him, their eyes huge, astonished that they were still alive.
‘Right,’ he said. ‘I’m off to the bath.’
200
23
Life in linear time
In the garden, in the tea hut, by the smoking firepit, the Doctor and Kadoguchiroshi sat together. The old Zen master had carefully laid out the implements for the tea ceremony: the kettle, the bamboo water scoop, the whisk.
The Doctor listened to the sighing of the steam as the Roshi gently brought the water to the boil. After a while, the old monk picked up the remaining cup from his ancient set, used a bamboo spoon to put in just the right amount of tea, and ladled the boiling water over it. The Doctor watched silently as the monk whisked the tea up into a froth. The Roshi put the cup down in front of him.
The Doctor held the precious cup in both hands, carefully. He shut his eyes and breathed in the steam. When he opened them again, the Roshi was giving him a questioning look.
He dropped the tea cup, and it broke into a hundred pieces.
The Roshi smiled.
A team of monks was working on the gap in the monastery’s defences. Already the rubble of the wall had been sorted into neat piles, and the bits of stone too small to be re-used were being carried away.
Chris watched them work. He’d helped for a while, but he’d felt like an Ogron, clumping about. The monks moved simply and precisely, completely concentrated on what they were doing. Focused in the here and now.
A few days ago, being useless would have bothered him terribly, but now he was content to watch. He had done something impossible. He had managed without the Doctor. He had been wobbly with exhaustion and grief, but he had managed. He wasn’t useless. He wasn’t worthless. He had helped save everyone.
Maybe, just maybe, just a little bit, he was even worth dying for.
Someone thought so, once.
201
Joel and Penelope, and the Kapteynians, were still amazed that Gufuu hadn’t chopped everyone into mincemeat, monks and all. But Chris under-stood why the daimyo had simply walked away. Lose your cool, and lose face.
His samurai would never have forgotten.
The monks’ slow dance made him think of Chiyono and her broom. He wished she could have waited a little longer, just a few more days, but the Roshi had said she had collapsed soon after their departure for Hekison village. She had passed away quietly in the infirmary without regaining consciousness.
He hoped she was in Heaven, or Nirvana, or wherever, with Liz and Roz and (maybe) Kat’lanna and everybody they’d lost. He could see the Doctor talking to Joel, over on the veranda of the main hall. Chris hurried over.
‘You can’t,’ Joel was saying.
‘I can,’ said the Doctor.
‘Oh no. Oh my God. You can’t.’
Joel slid quietly from a standing position to become a small, frightened