by Doctor Who
White fire. She looked like an angel... Rory dismissed the idea at once as ridiculous. No such thing. Aliens, however...
'Who are you? What do you want?'
The voice that answered was like Hilthe's, but 70
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richer and sweetened with a hundred thousand harmonies. Rory was reminded of the Teller earlier — but his voice sounded shrill and harsh in comparison.
'I am the Herald. I speak for my masters, the Bright Nobles of the Feond. I have come to claim what is rightfully theirs.' Her glance darted to and fro, searching, or hunting. She repeated her greeting. 'I am the Herald. I speak for my masters, the Bright Nobles of the Feond. I have come to claim what is rightfully theirs.' Her eyes caught him. 'We can reward you well.'
It wasn't exactly hard to guess what she was talking about. Rory knew that the Doctor thought Geath should be rid of it, that Hilthe wanted Geath to be rid of it... and yet, and yet the city was so beautiful now... Without the gold, it would look so bare, so dull, hardly anything at all...
'There's nothing here,' Rory said. 'Look around you. Sorry. Try the next planet along.'
The Herald took in her surroundings — and saw only Hilthe's ungilded sitting room. Then she sighed, a full chord that resonated with grief and loss. A wave of guilt washed over Rory, but the truth stuck to his tongue. The light went out. Hilthe staggered backwards. Rory grabbed her arm to stop her falling and guided her back to her chair.
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She sat for a few moments with her head bowed.
'How strange. How strange.' Then she sat up, as if she had come to a decision. 'I want to meet your Doctor friend.' She paused. 'I'm not sure why you just lied. No, don't deny it. But he will certainly need to know what you've seen in my house. My view of it was... difficult to describe, so you're going to have to tell the Doctor everything. If he's going to help me.' She gave Rory a very sharp look.
'And I mean everything.'
The Teller emerged from the shadow of the arcade.
Two knights followed close behind him, their hands resting lightly on the hilts of their sheathed short swords. 'Well,' said the Teller affably, 'here is a curious thing. The last I saw of our guests from Dant, they were being shown to their very fine quarters.
And yet barely a bell has rung and here they are in the council chamber. Whatever could have brought them here?'
'We're not from Dant,' the Doctor said. 'But you know that already.'
The Teller walked over to the dragon, placing one hand upon its head and the other upon the highest point of one folded wing. It was about as deliberate a display of possession as it was possible to make.
The Doctor ran one finger along the dragon's 72
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tail. `Go on,' he said. 'Tell me where you found it. I bet it makes a brilliant story.'
The Teller lifted a hand - one only. 'But my friend! You have already heard a great story this evening!'
'Not a true one, though.'
'Does a story have to be true to be great?' 'It helps.'
'But what more does my tale require?' The Teller stroked the dragon's head. Beneath his touch, the metal began to glisten.
And then, Amy would swear, it began to sing. A low sweet sound just on the edge of her hearing that picked up and harmonised with the Teller's voice.
She shivered. Where had she heard that before?
The Teller talked on. 'My tale has excitement and adventure and - most of all - it has an enemy.
That was what the people of Geath wanted to hear. This city!' He sneered. 'Year upon year of comfortable talk, always the same, always too safe -
in their hearts they longed for something new.
Something dangerous. So that is what I give them.
And when they become too afraid, I can remind them that even if there are powers in this world that threaten them, Beol is here. Beol will protect them.' He gave a crooked smile. 'And that is no more than the truth. Beol is a good king.'
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'There shouldn't be a king. Not here.'
The Teller's smile turned radiant. 'But now there is. And how they love him!'
'Were you a storyteller before?' The Doctor's voice, which until now had sounded faint in comparison, became steadily more authoritative, more natural - more real. 'Were they good stories?'
He walked slowly around the dragon. The Teller didn't budge an inch, but monitored his adversary's progress closely. 'Did they tell people how to live their lives just that bit better? Did they inspire them? Inform them? Entertain them? Or were they rubbish? Were they hack work? Was there always a good guy and a bad guy and a tidy resolution at the end? Have you simply found a way to amplify your voice so that people can't help listening?'
The Teller's hitherto genial air was gone. He gripped the dragon's head. Beneath his hands, the golden hide began to ripple.
'Doctor,' Amy murmured. 'I think you're making him angry.' She glanced uneasily at the shifting metal. 'I think you're making it angry'
'You have no right to be here,' the Teller said harshly. 'I should have you put in the stocks.
You're a fool!'
'And you're a liar. Can't bear to hear the truth?
Can't bear to hear it said?' Subtly, the Doctor's voice began to change again. Now it was in tune 74
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with the dragon.
The hum was louder than ever before. Amy pressed her fingers against her ears. The dragon-song was swelling. 'Doctor, I don't think this is a good idea—'
'But you know it in your heart, don't you?' the Doctor said, ignoring her. 'It's the dragon that makes them listen. It's Beol that they love.'
'Stop this! Stop this at once!'
Amy looked across the hall. An old woman was striding towards them, her eyes flashing in anger.
Rory came hurrying behind her. This must be his friend Hilthe.
'This is the council chamber of Geath, the Heart of the City!' Hilthe said. 'Generation after generation of our people have gathered here in comradeship and concord. Show some respect to their efforts, to their memory!' She turned to Rory.
'Is this your friend?'
Rory nodded. 'This is the Doctor.'
The Doctor stepped back from the dragon. He bowed his head. 'Forgive me, Mother, I meant no disrespect.'
She gave him an unfavourable look and turned to address the Teller. 'I know you hold this city in contempt—'
'Not true, Mother!' the Teller said quickly; too quickly, Amy thought.
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The Doctor murmured, 'The Teller doth protest too much... Now why would that be, I wonder...?'
Hilthe held up her hand to stop the Teller speaking further. 'But you might at least make a show of respect. Given that making a show is all you're good for. Now,' she turned back to address the Doctor. 'Your friend has come to me with a most remarkable tale, one which any sensible person would hardly find credible. What truth is there in it? What does it mean for my city and its people?'
The Doctor held up his hands. 'I'd like to tell you, Mother, but you arrived just as our friend here was having me thrown into the stocks.' He gave the Teller his madman's grin. 'Which is it to be? Throw me out or hear me out? Because I can tell you a story that will turn your world upside down. You know I can. And this story will be wonderful and terrible and brilliant - and it won't need a villain.'
Amy could see that the Teller was torn between his need to rid himself of the Doctor and his desire to find out more from him. He vacillated for a moment or two, and then turned to the two guards and dismissed them. 'Go on,' he said to the Doctor.
'Impress me.'
'Good man! Good choice!'
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Rory came to stand next to Amy. 'Did we nearly find ourselves in the stocks?'
'Nearly. But not actually. And, you know, in a case like that it really
isn't the thought that counts.'
'Hm.' Rory was not mollified.
The Doctor rubbed his hands together, cracked some knuckles, and then turned the sonic screwdriver onto the dragon.
The Teller made an anxious movement towards him. 'Don't damage it!'
'I won't damage it! Well, not so as you'd notice...
Ah, here we go! Come and take a look at this, both of you.'
It was another dragon-scale. Hilthe raised her eyebrows at Rory, who nodded encouragingly, and she stepped towards the Doctor. The Teller came to look, too, and, as he stared down at the scrap of Enamour lying in the Doctor's palm, his face changed. Everything distinctive about him -
his wit, his intelligence - leached away. He became absent. Amy shivered. Was that how she and Rory had looked? From the moment she had picked up the dragon-hammer on the gate and resented the Doctor touching it, the metal had been working on them.
The Doctor, watching the Teller, nodded. 'I thought that you hadn't been on the receiving end 77
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before. Feels different, this way round, doesn't it?' 'I feel nothing,' Hilthe said. 'What is this? Some kind of conjuring trick?'
The Doctor closed his hand.
The Teller shuddered and pulled back. 'No, something definitely happened then.' He looked at the Doctor with new respect — and then at the dragon, with new apprehension.
'I don't know where you found it,' the Doctor said. 'I wonder if you could tell me even if you wanted to. Enamour — that's its name — it makes people possessive, jealous. Makes them keep secrets.' He glanced at Amy and gave her a rueful look. 'Even from people they can trust. Right, Amy?'
'Oh,' Amy said. 'I know. I guess there was...
something... sort of. Maybe.' She tried to speak, but the words wouldn't form. 'Why can't I say what it was?'
'Amy...' The Doctor pressed two long fingers gently against her cheek. 'It's not your fault — it's what Enamour does. There's no harm done. But try to concentrate now. Try to tell me what it was you saw in the dark. Was it big? Was it scary? Animal?
Vegetable? Mineral? Accidental?'
Amy struggled to get past the mist descending around her and to ignore the gentle lulling hum rising steadily inside her head. 'It was big... No, 78
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not at first. It grew. It got bigger and bigger. All the lamps went out - it made them go out. There was a howling sound. Well, you heard that. It sort of came towards me. I thought it was going to attack me!'
Rory took hold of her hand. 'Then it stopped. It loomed for a while. It made me feel afraid, and alone. Then it went away. I put my hand through it, and it just went away. Like it wasn't really there.'
Through the haze, the Doctor was smiling at her; approvingly, encouragingly. Another memory came back, in a flash. 'Doctor, I think people were whispering about it earlier, in the chamber.
They've seen it here before!' It was, as Rory was no doubt thinking, weird. As if, knowing that it was real for others, she was suddenly able to admit its existence to herself. The humming was quieter, and the Doctor was frowning, thoughtfully. 'Go on, tell us,' Amy said. 'What is it?'
'A scout, probably. Trying to find the metal.
Question now - is it an automatic manifestation, or is there someone behind it? Has somebody sent it?
Because if they have, our sleeping dragon over there might not be quite as quiescent as we'd like.'
The Teller looked anxiously at the dragon. 'Is it dangerous?'
'Dangerous?' Hilthe turned to the Doctor. 'Is it?
What does this mean for the city?'
'The dragon alone is danger enough,' the Doctor 79
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said, looking pointedly at the Teller, who looked away guiltily. 'But... if it's automatic, no. And if there's someone behind it...' The Doctor thought for a moment. 'They'll follow the old protocols.
They'll send a Herald to ask for the return of the metal before they try to take it by force.'
'Ah,' said Rory, quietly. 'I think we may already have seen that.'
The Doctor gave him a 'you-took-your-time'
look. 'Did it ask for its Enamour back?'
'Yes, but – Doctor, I said there wasn't any here! I couldn't stop myself!'
'Oh dear.'
'I couldn't!'
Hilthe interrupted. 'It's all right, Rory.' She looked at the Doctor. 'I should imagine the Doctor will tell us that it is the work of this metal again.'
'But... if they take it by force—'
Hilthe laid her hand upon Rory's shoulder. 'I'm sure that we will be given another chance before any assault is made upon us.' She reached into her pocket and held out the ring for the Doctor to see. 'This is the means by which their messenger spoke to me, Doctor. Do not ask me how. I believe, however, that I could understand a little of her mind.'
The Doctor peered at the ring. 'May I?'
'Of course.'
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The Doctor picked up the ring. He held it up to the light - his eye, dark and intelligent, was briefly visible through it - and then he tested it with the sonic screwdriver. 'Definitely the same material. You say it spoke to you?'
'Through me would be nearer the mark.' 'So it could still be an automatic system...'
'Automatic,' the Teller said. 'You keep saying that. But what does it mean?'
'Ooh, good one. Not easy to explain. Let's see what you make of this. Imagine, if you can, machines that don't need people to operate them.
Machines that can be told in advance what to do, and then left to get on with it.' He grinned at the Teller, whose eyes widened as the idea sank in.
'You are imagining it, aren't you? Good for you!'
'Doctor,' Hilthe said, 'I have a question. Why does this material... What did you call it?'
'Enamour.'
'Enamour.' She experimented with the word.
'Why does it not affect me, when the rest of the city is enthralled?'
The Doctor shrugged. 'Wisdom? You've seen it all before?'
Hilthe laughed. 'You mean I'm old!'
'Why are you not affected?' the Teller asked the Doctor.
The Doctor winked at him. 'Same reason.'
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The Teller stared at him, fascinated and bewildered, like he was watching a magician whose tricks he could not understand.
'Now,' said Hilthe briskly, returning to the business at hand, 'tell me if I have misunderstood, but as I see it, what we ought to do now is determine whether the makers of this dragon are indeed trying to speak to us, or whether an echo of their voice has in some way travelled down the long years to us.'
'I'm impressed!' said the Doctor. 'You're impressive!'
'Thank you, Doctor, I know that already. Now, given that I am in some way impervious to this metal's deleterious effects, surely what I ought to do next is try this ring once again in order to summon its makers?'
'Too dangerous, Doctor,' Rory said, quickly.
'Anything might happen.'
The Doctor frowned. 'He's right, Mother—'
'Nevertheless, the decision is mine and mine alone,' Hilthe took the ring back from him. 'Besides, for the city of Geath, I would do anything.'
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Chapter
5
Hilthe cupped the ring in her hands and was bathed once again in the rings of golden light. Amy was amazed. 'It's beautiful! Is that what happened before?'
'Just wait till she starts speaking.' Rory felt his stomach knotting with anticipation. Somehow, the fear he had felt for Hilthe dissipated, and he was eager for Amy to see what he had seen, and anxious to see it again himself.
When the Herald returned, the show was even more impressive than he remembered. The light was more intense, the experience more involving, more complete. The Herald's voice rang around the high chamber like a peal of bells. 'I am the Herald. I speak for my masters, the Bright Nobles of the 83
Feond. I have come to claim what is rightfully theirs.'
The Doctor walked slowly all the way round the apparition, fascinated, his head tilted to one side as he studied her. 'You're amazing. And you're here, aren't you? Well, not here here, because this is a transmission. But it isn't a recording. You're not a voice from the past. You're speaking to us now, aren't you?'
The Herald turned her head to follow the Doctor as he moved, watching him with her fire-lit eyes. 'I am speaking to you now,' she confirmed. 'I am speaking to you for my masters, the Bright Nobles of the Feond. I have come to claim what is rightfully theirs. Who is the Noble here? Who has authority to speak?'
The Teller took a step forwards, but the Doctor got in first. 'You can speak to me. Where have you come from?'
'I am the Herald. I speak for my masters, the Bright Nobles of the Feond. I have come to claim what is rightfully theirs.'
'Yes, I've got that already. You want your treasure and I have to say I'll be glad to see the back of it. So will the people of Geath. Not at first, probably.' The Doctor glanced quickly at the Teller.
'When I say "probably", I mean "definitely". Let's not worry about that right now. Why should I 84
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hand it over?'
'It belongs to my masters, the Bright Nobles of the Feond. It is rightfully theirs.'
'Yes, yes, so you say. But my problem with that is anyone can turn up and claim that old Smaug over there belongs to them.' The Doctor looked at the Teller again, pointedly this time. 'I'll admit that the light show is impressive — very whizz bang — but it's not proof of purchase, is it? So why should I hand it over to you?'
The Herald closed her eyes briefly, as if calculating, or perhaps receiving instructions. 'We can reward you well.'
'Oops,' said Amy. 'Bad move.'
The Doctor bared his teeth in a mirthless smile.
He strolled around the Herald one more time, coming to a halt slightly behind her left side. He put his hand flat against the sphere of light. It rippled almost imperceptibly but otherwise did not change. 'Problem is,' he said, drawing back his hand and examining his palm, 'Enamour is a banned substance. Banned by everyone. You name them, they've banned it. Outlawed within the Ancient Bounds of the League of Perpetual Accord.
