Steve Cole - Doctor Who - The Knight, The Fool and The Dead

Brian announced them like the MC at a formal banquet: ‘Professor Hana Fallomax, Ambassador. And the child of Destran, Estinee.’

‘Indeed.’ With a hiss of either aggression or satisfaction, Chalskal deepened the angle of his bow. ‘I have been investigating your Lifeshroud for some time, Professor. A most ingenious invention.’

‘Except it doesn’t work,’ said the Doctor. ‘It’s a sham.’

‘Sham?’ Chalskal’s stub of a body twitched and his single eye narrowed. ‘But … I need the Lifeshroud!’

‘More than you think,’ murmured Estinee.

‘Professor,’ Chalskal growled, ‘if this is true, then you are guilty of the wilful misleading of whole populations.’

‘Without funding, I can’t—’

‘For the wilful misleading of me !’ he squeaked.

‘Oh, really.’ Fallomax put her hands on her hips. ‘Aren’t you wondering how I’ve heard of you, Ambassador?’

‘You have heard of me by reputation, no doubt, as every criminal in creation must have heard of—’

‘Nope. Wrong.’ Fallomax shook her head. ‘I know you work for the President of Skalithai. Well, her office shut down every approach I made to tell them about the Lifeshroud. I gave up in the end. Can’t win them all …’

‘Fallomax,’ said the Doctor worriedly. ‘What are you saying?’

‘It’s what one of the revenants was saying,’ Estinee put in. ‘ Nine-zero-omega, four-al-hrb, one-zero-zero . I heard those words on Mordeela, years ago, from the mouth of one of your race. She wore red robes and had many tails.’

‘My predecessor, Frey-Gye? The former High Ambassador? She went missing the day the first phantoms were seen in our skies, many years ago. There were rumours that the Kotturuh had …’ Chalskal twitched again as he ran the figures into his tiny personal organiser. ‘The date you give, that’s …’

‘That’s precisely two weeks, two days and eleven hours. On that date, the Kotturuh will come to Skalithai, to judge seven billion souls.’

The words sank in heavy silence.

‘The end of the world?’ Chalskal whimpered.

‘It’s happening,’ said Estinee.

‘No.’ The Doctor shoved his hands in his pockets and shook his head. ‘I’m not having it.’

‘And yet Lifeshroud for the masses is a sham,’ said Brian.

‘It can be made to work,’ Fallomax insisted.

‘In time? Before my world is destroyed?’ Chalskal was no longer pompous or sinister, but crumpled.

The Doctor looked around at the sea of desolate faces in the room. This was one of those moments where the universe turned. He could just go. He didn’t need to be here. He didn’t need to interfere. These people lived in a whole other age. Not his fight. Not his business.

‘Oh, we’re going to make it work, Professor,’ the Doctor beamed. ‘Not hiding out in some rock in space, burning through the cash from your snake-oil scamming. We’re going to stop the Kotturuh by building a working Lifeshroud. For real.’

Third Interlude

The dusts of Moslin blew in the low breeze, covering all tracks. It was as if he’d just dropped in from the sky. And I suppose I did , thought the Doctor. Moslin Town was still some distance away, and he sat in the mouth of a desert cave, appreciative of the shade.

The Doctor looked at the man in the dark cloak sitting beside him. Curious choice to wear black in a desert, even with sun-barriers. Was it a fashion choice, or more than that? Was he a celebrity or a truant, wanting to dodge detection? There was something off with his story about the woman he’d come here with, sleeping lightly beside him, but the Doctor supposed he’d get to the bottom of things in time. He usually did.

The Doctor was in his eighth body, now, and he felt it suited him. He’d always liked the way humans drew an ‘8’ because if you tipped it on its side it showed ‘infinity’. So, whenever and wherever he lay down, the Doctor thought about the infinity of coincidences that had guided him there. It was a kind of counting sheep, he supposed. Rest had never come easy to him; he did his best to keep out of its way. His companion had stayed sitting up, so maybe he wasn’t fond of rest either.

‘You look like Death, Brian,’ the Doctor said conversationally.

‘I look like any other of my species.’

‘No, no, I mean you look like a representation of Death. You’ve got the big black cloak, you just need a scythe …’ The Doctor smiled sadly. ‘I guess, death’s never something you can really dress up.’

‘You are a doctor,’ said Brian. ‘You do not carry a stethoscope.’

‘Told you, I’m the Doctor. I don’t listen to hearts, I feel them.’ He tapped out the double pulse on his knees, leaned back against the wall. ‘Look at us, the Doctor and Death. Reminds me of a story from Earth. Brothers Grimm. About this tailor who had many children, and his thirteenth was a girl. He decided to find a godfather to help raise the girl, and he soon ran into Death …’

Brian listened to the story as the Doctor told it, nodding his head now and then to signal his attention was being held. The Doctor was glad and went on with the tale. He liked it; he’d told it before and doubtless would again.

‘So, the doctor knows the rules, now. She can’t cheat Death.’

‘In the end, no one can.’

‘If she tried, Death had said it would go badly for her. But then the King’s lovely daughter gets sick. Really sick. And the King tells the doctor: “If you cure her, I’ll give you her hand in marriage.”’

‘Her severed hand?’

‘It’s an expression. Anyway, the tailor’s daughter goes to the Princess, who’s very beautiful, probably. And they fall in love, as some are wont to do.’

‘So I have heard.’

‘And then the lovestruck young doctor sees her godfather, Death, standing there. By the foot of the Princess’s bed. Waiting to claim her. And despite the warnings, the doctor knows she has to save her.’ He stood up and struck a heroic pose. ‘“I’m the greatest, most fantastic doctor in the world,” she says. “I can do anything.”’

‘And I suppose she turns the bed around.’

‘Have you heard this story before?’

Brian paused. ‘I have encountered people before.’

The Doctor nodded. ‘Well, she does, she turns the bed around. And now Death’s stood at the head of the bed so when the doctor gives the Princess the herbs, whaddyaknow! The Princess is cured.’

‘Godfather Death was alarmingly lax when it came to closing loopholes.’

‘Not any longer.’ The Doctor sighed. ‘This doctor had disobeyed a direct instruction from Death not to interfere. Yeah, she saved the Princess, but Death took a hold of her arm and said, “I warned you. You must come with me.”’

‘And where did Death take her?’

‘To a cavern. A huge, long, low cavern that stretched for miles, and everywhere you looked there was a candle. Some were tall and tapering, others little more than blobs of wax, the flame sputtering ready to go out. And Death told the doctor, “Each of these candles represents a life. And when the candle snuffs out, that life is ended.” And he points to a stubby little thing and he says, “This is your candle.” “No, please, Godfather,” says the doctor. “Don’t let my candle burn down. You can light another for me. I will love you and honour you and never disobey you again.” But Death just reached out his hand. That little flame was so bright, so strong, but when his bony fingers pinched out the wick it went out the same as all the others. And the doctor … she fell down dead. So much promise, come to nothing.’

There was a shudder from inside the black cloak, as if Brian were laughing. ‘I discern the point of the story,’ he said. ‘Each life has an allotted span, and any attempt to defy Death is doomed to failure. Death will not be cheated.’