Doctor Who_ Wooden Heart - Martin Day [14]
‘I know that he was your favourite to become leader.’ The Dazai continued on her way, leaning even more heavily now against Petr’s side. ‘That is true. Your brother has many noble qualities – a man of action, a man impatient for change and progress, a man with drive.’ The Dazai chuckled. ‘But the village council wanted a thinker, a deliberator, a man more used to weighing up matters than coming to an impulsive conclusion. And, as the months have passed, I believe that they were correct to do so.’
Petr paused, his eyes wide. ‘You think… it was right that I became leader?’
‘It was.’ She laughed again, a throaty, intimate laugh at odds with her austere reputation. ‘Even the Dazai can make mistakes. She is merely the adviser, the sage, the ceremonial outpouring of that which is within… She is still human, and she is not beyond making mistakes!’
‘You are very generous, noble Dazai,’ said Petro ‘I wish I were so accepting of my past errors!’
‘You know I would see you at any time,’ continued the Dazai as they passed a group of men and women beating the rugs outside their homes. ‘It is your right as elder, and my privilege as your subject.’
‘I’m not… I’m not sure how I match up to my younger brother. I have none of his strength, his prowess, his bravery…’
‘It is as I said: your qualities, your strength, are different. That does not imply worthlessness.’
‘Sometimes I wish I was more like Saul,’ said Petro ‘Nothing seems to bother him.’
‘You know that isn’t true,’ said the Dazai. ‘We are all affected. It is true that this shadow has not yet passed over Saul’s family. That does not mean that he is indifferent to the suffering of others. None of us are.’
‘Then you can understand why I wanted to speak with you,’ said Petro ‘If Saul knows something, has some insight…’
‘If Saul knew anything he would come to you.’
‘I hope that’s true.’ Petr sighed. ‘I hope… I’m doing the right thing. Saul’s urge to get help from beyond the village… He’s not without his supporters, you know.’
‘You must continue to do what you think is best,’ said the Dazai as they came to a halt outside the ceremonial hall. Larger than any other building within the village, its pitched roof seemed to slice into the sky. Flags fluttered from its corner and metal lanterns clashed and chimed as they hung over the great doorway. ‘As I have told you before, help will come, in one form or another,’ continued the Dazai with a smile. ‘It always does.’
Martha tugged desperately at the toothed trap that had snapped shut around the Doctor’s ankle. He appeared not to have lost much blood – though he’d made some quip about needing to dry-clean his trousers later – and the rough metal jaws seemed not to have closed entirely, allowing him to move his leg a little. Despite this, he seemed to be – if that were possible – even more manic than usual. Martha reckoned it was some sort of shock kicking in – though goodness only knew what kind of shock an alien with two hearts might suffer.
‘I must stop doing this!’ said the Doctor, his eyes wide. ‘It really is rather embarrassing.’
‘It sounds like you make a habit of it.’
‘Oh, you know, every few hundred years or so. And then there was this school trip…’
‘You went on a school trip?’
‘I use the term somewhat loosely. I mean, can you imagine me sat at the back of a clapped-out old bus rolling stink bombs down the aisle and chatting up Lucy McGregor from class 6C?’
‘Actually, I can,’ said Martha.
The Doctor snorted. ‘Oh, you’ve got such a low opinion of me, Martha Jones! My teachers thought