Menagerie - Martin Day [30]
The Doctor looked up at the doors, fully two storeys tall.
Slabs of polished marble sat within perfect frames of iron.
The Doctor ran his fingers over the surface. It was entirely smooth and precise. The doors had been constructed with pinpoint accuracy.
Himesor pulled gently on a large loop of brass. The door swung outwards without a sound. 'Enter, Doctor.'
'Thank you.' The Doctor followed the tall knight into the room.
Inside the expanse was so huge that even the Doctor's eyes could barely perceive its outermost limits. Electric lamps glowed high up in the roof like stars, casting pools of light in a narrow line through the centre of the room. On either side of the road of lights were glass cabinets, framed with gold. Some were about as high as a man, others were on their sides like huge treasure chests. Within each was a velvet cushion or a silver frame to hold up some object for inspection. The Doctor scurried along the cabinets like a child in a toyshop, glancing at crowns, books, swords, jewellery. Himesor followed at a more respectful pace.
'What do you know of the holy relics?' asked th Doctor.
'A little,' said Himesor. 'They are devices that tell of the knights' knowledge of and dependence on the Higher. In themselves they are worthless trinkets, but they are symbols that point elsewhere.'
'How old are they?'
'I cannot answer that.'
'Were they brought here from somewhere else?'
'They are here now. That is all I know.'
The Doctor stopped by one case, drumming a finger against his lips. 'Worthless trinkets, you say?' He pointed into the case at a small group of shiny purple spheres. 'They look more like advanced powerpacks to me.'
'Powerpacks?'
The Doctor scratched his head. 'Small objects that hold as much energy as, well, I'd say not far short of what one of your power stations produces in a month.'
'You cannot destroy my faith so easily, Doctor. I ha vealways suspected that the holy relics are mundane objects made glorious by knowledge of the Higher.'
'My intention is not to destroy your beliefs,' said the Doctor quickly. long ago you made a choice, the results of which you still live with. As did I. I'm here to find a way to .
. . Aha! What have we here?' The Doctor scuttled off to a row of identical cases, each containing glowing white costumes on rough wooden manakins.
'The ceremonial armour of Kuabris,' said Himesor.
'Indeed,' said the Doctor. 'It has another use as well. You have said that the poisonous gases are the only thing standing in the way of your exploration of the sewers and the menagerie beyond. Yes?'
Himesor nodded.
'Note the cord that links the helm with the breastplate. It's a hollow tube. And the breastplate is actually a self-contained air supply. The armour would not just protect you against swords, but against germ warfare and dumdum bullets.' The Doctor turned excitedly to Himesor. 'You might think that I'm talking gibberish, but these suits are exactly what we're looking for!'
Outside the great doors two figures stood, straining after the sound of the Doctor's voice.
Commander Zaitabor ground his teeth in anger, and set off back up the tunnels. Araboam followed, disbelief rather than aggression clouding his features. 'Why, lord? Why let an outsider stare upon the holy relics?'
'Himesor says he has his reasons,' growled Zaitabor. 'But you and I both know that only death can follow such a violation. May that charlatan "Doctor" be cursed!' He thumped his fists together in outrage. 'We have much work to do,' he said in a quieter voice. 'We shall at least be able to dream of the Doctor's certain death while we do so.'
Zoe had never felt so humiliated and abused. The aches of her body, the clamouring emptiness of her stomach, the dirt under her nails and in her hair — all these things she would get over in time. But to be sold in a market like a piece of livestock — it was entirely beyond her comprehension.
When the man with the cigar had prodded her and laughed with the crowd she could almost have believed that she was having a nightmare.
But now the sun