Doctor Who_ Wooden Heart - Martin Day [19]
‘All I’m saying is – you can’t believe everything you see.’
Petr laughed. ‘At last we have some common ground! We can both, I think, agree on that.’ He leaned forward. ‘And your friend?’ he said, looking to Martha. ‘What does she say?’
Martha cleared her throat. ‘Well, um… We were on this… ship in the stars… We were trying to return to our own… craft. We were walking down this corridor when… all of this appeared.’
‘Then at least it is a shared madness,’ said Petr, a note of disappointment in his voice. The man’s tone surprised Martha – it was as if, beneath that unflappable exterior, he had expected more of the Doctor and Martha. Petr got to his feet. ‘Now, forgive me, I have more urgent matters to consider…’
‘Look, sorry to be nosy,’ said the Doctor, ‘but can I ask what these “urgent matters” are?’
Petr stared back at the Doctor, his face thoughtful. ‘Some people have disappeared from the village,’ he said eventually. ‘Always children. Always at night.’
‘Do these kids know each other?’ asked Martha. In her experience, children were always running away from home – or threatening to. But for a group of them to disappear, and not return – and in as enclosed a community as this – clearly spoke of something more sinister.
Petr shook his head. ‘It seems random, a…’ He paused before proceeding, his eyes distant. ‘It is a different family every time. It is as if some… dark angel passes over our homes at night.’
‘And how often has this happened?’ asked the Doctor.
‘Eight times,’ said Petro ‘But the attacks are getting more frequent.’
‘Any evidence?’ queried Martha. ‘Broken doors or windows, that sort of thing…?’
Another shake of the head. ‘Windows and doors are still locked. The beds seem… undisturbed.’
For the first time Petr’s voice cracked with emotion, and Martha could see the impact this was having on him. Small wonder he wasn’t really taking the Doctor seriously – his mind was on other things.
‘Now, I must go and speak with the latest family,’ said Petr abruptly. ‘I must assure them that we are doing all that we can. But in truth… it was a mystery when the first child vanished, and it remains a mystery now.’
‘What’s the name of this village?’ said the Doctor, changing tack suddenly.
Petr looked puzzled, as if he barely understood the question. ‘It’s our home, where we live – and where we have always lived…’
‘But surely,’ continued the Doctor, ‘this place must have a name? On the way over, your brother told me that you sometimes welcome travellers and traders. If you were to write a formal document on behalf of the village, how would you describe yourself? Elder of…?’
‘I am the twelfth elected elder of Herot.’
‘Herot? That sounds like… How interesting!’ said the Doctor breathlessly.
‘Interesting?’ queried Martha.
‘I’ll tell you later,’ whispered the Doctor, turning once more back to Petro ‘Tell me about your contact with the outside world. What region are we in? What land, what country, what nation? Who rules over you, who do you have treaties with?’
‘Our allegiance is only to each other, to the life we wish to live in peace. As for wider, worldly matters… I cannot answer your questions. They do not concern us.’ Petr looked closely at the Doctor. ‘If you hail from these distant regions, you yourself must know the answers to your questions.’
‘Could I have a look at these documents you mentioned?’ asked the Doctor.
‘Of course,’ said Petro ‘I am glad to welcome you both to our village,’ he said as he got to his feet. ‘I think you will provide… entertainment, if nothing else. A distraction from our very real worries.’
Martha left the Doctor examining the records kept in the ceremonial hall. Apparently the most recent documents were stored there, while much older records