Doctor Who_ Wooden Heart - Martin Day [10]
‘How is your brother?’ she asked, gesturing that Saul should sit.
‘Busy,’ said Saul. The dismissive word sounded more bitter than he had intended. ‘I do not envy Petr his position,’ he added hastily. ‘He has a lot on his mind.’
‘We all have a lot on our minds,’ observed the Dazai, ‘and only a fool would envy a diligent leader his position in life. Better by far to be indolent or carefree or selfish.’
‘I’m often accused of being all those things…’
‘Then they do not know you as well as I do. I know you care – and care deeply. To be lazy or self-serving – it’s the easy way.’ She raised a finger, as brown and knotted as a twig from the forest floor. ‘I am not, of course, saying it is the best way.’ She poured Saul some tea from a large copper kettle. ‘You and Petr are more alike than either of you care to admit.’
‘Perhaps,’ said Saul. He took the tiny tumbler of tea, tipping it first one way, then another. Were it not for the steam rising from it, the tea would appear as cold and grey as the great lake that lapped against the edges of the village.
He drained the tumbler in one, and slid it back across the table.
‘What do you think this day will bring, noble Dazai?’ The Dazai continued to stare at Saul and he found himself unable to hold her gaze. ‘The fog’s already gathering,’ he added.
‘I feel it will bring something new,’ said the Dazai. ‘Whether for good or ill…’ She paused, as if sniffing the air for clues. ‘No, I cannot tell.’ She indicated the kettle. ‘Another?’
Saul got to his feet, bowing again. ‘I need to check my traps in the forest,’ he said. ‘And then I need to speak to my brother.’
‘You still wish to travel to the outer settlements?’
‘I need to see what’s there,’ said Saul. ‘Perhaps they can help us… With the children, I mean.’
The Dazai shook her head. ‘The children are beyond our help now,’ she said gravely. ‘Let us hope that we do not join them.’
Martha took another deep breath. ‘I don’t believe it…’ she said slowly.
‘So you’ve said.’ The Doctor, his hands deep in his pockets, looked around once more, like a child desperately trying to work out how a conjuring trick is done. ‘Twice,’ he added.
‘But – we were on a spaceship. We opened a door…’
‘And wallop!’ said the Doctor. ‘Here we are.’
Martha and the Doctor stood in a small clearing in a forest, surrounded by thin autumnal trees and angular evergreens. There was a thick carpet of bronze-coloured leaves under their feet, and over their heads the circle of blue sky was unblemished but for a pale curl of cloud.
‘That should be deep space,’ said Martha, pointing upwards. ‘You know, black, full of stars… And this…’ She bent down, forcing her hands through the leaves. ‘This should be a metal floor. The TARDIS should be just in front of us!’
‘Perhaps it is,’ said the Doctor. ‘And we just can’t see it.’
‘So this is some sort of… virtual reality? A computer simulation or something?’
‘I don’t think so,’ said the Doctor, cautiously.
Martha picked up a leaf by its stalk, twirled it between her fingers, held it up to the sunlight. It was large, copper-coloured and webbed by deep green veins, as angular as a child’s drawing of a splayed hand. ‘It all feels pretty real,’ she said.
And there were the sounds, too – tiny sounds of furtive animals foraging through the undergrowth, joyful birdsong high up in the trees. More distantly, an intermittent thrumming of a woodpecker tapping against rotten wood.
‘It smells pretty real, too,’ said the Doctor, who for his part had found a fungus at the root of a tree. He passed it to Martha – a white streak of flesh peppered with vivid red spots, like a comedy toadstool.
Martha breathed deeply – and immediately wished she hadn’t. ‘It stinks!’ she said.
‘Student’s sock