Doctor Who: Virgin New Adventures - Bernice Summerfield [084] - Twilight Of The Gods by Mark Clapham & Jon de Burgh Miller

Author:Mark Clapham & Jon de Burgh Miller
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Science-Fiction - Doctor Who
Publisher: Virgin
Published: 1999-12-27T23:00:00+00:00

8

ONE TRUE GOD (ACCEPT NO SUBSTITUTES)

Time passes within the palace, but day and night have no meaning. Within those walls there is pleasure, there is pain, there is scripture and judgement. The Sultan’s people quite literally live and die at the whim of the gods. Or, nowadays, the one god: Tehke, the Burning One.

The sun was high over the courtyard when the workers were allowed their lunch break. Cwej joined his fellow toilers as they sat in the meagre shade given by the scaffolding, and drank greedily from the water bottle that was passed around the group. The scaffolding supported the great statue they had been press-ganged into assembling, a statue to the glory of Tehke. The statue had been under construction for some time before Cwej’s arrival, and had originally been intended to honour Mor’yuchi. But loyalties change, and even deities can fall out of favour. Cwej and his fellow workers, all strong and disposable as far as the Sultan was concerned, were currently involved in moulding sheets of red-hot metal to the surface of the statue – uncomfortable and dangerous work. Earlier that day one man had fallen from the scaffolding, reeling in pain after he accidentally dropped his welding equipment on to his thigh. Black, fatty smoke poured away from the wound on his leg as he lay dead on the stony ground, blood pooling around his shattered head. The palace guards had dragged the corpse away, and ordered the work to continue. Veiled servant girls were forced to mop up the stain, cleanse the mosaic tiles for the Sultan’s pleasure.

Cwej twisted his stubby neck around to look up at the shrouded figure of the statue. With the metal applied, it would appear burning scarlet in the midday sun. A man aflame. Behind tarpaulins sculptors worked to etch blisters and scars into the face, sharpen the teeth, change Mor’yuchi’s face to the hideous visage of Tehke. From the glimpses of the whole thing he had seen while bashing plates of soft metal into shape, Cwej thought it was probably going to be the ugliest, tackiest piece of crap he had ever seen. And Cwej had been to 1970s England, so he’d seen a lot of tasteless crud to compare it to.

The inhabitants of the Sultan’s palace seemed intent on pushing towards both heaven and hell at the same time, recreating the most extreme of experiences possible. It was as if the contradictions of being bounced from one faith to another, from god to god, switching rituals and symbols every time, was taking its toll. The whole place was being driven mad by its eternal contradictions.

But the sun was out, and that was at least some consolation. Cwej leant back against the rock of the statue’s broad base. The rough stone felt warm through his shirt. He closed his eyes, felt the rays soak his skin in warmth. Almost hypnotized, he remembered how he had managed to get into such a mess.

A night had passed since Clarence and Cwej had been put in the tender care of the NMA.

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