Doctor Who - New Adventures - 37 - Sanctuary by David A. Mcintee

Author:David A. Mcintee
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Science Fiction, General, Doctor Who (Television Program), Fiction
ISBN: 9780426204398
Publisher: London Bridge
Published: 1995-06-14T07:00:00+00:00

As they descended the steep track once more, the hostages following quietly, Louis was presented with another oddity.

Why did the Doctor continue looking back at the walls with such an inscrutable air?

The chestnut mare nodded its head in eager anticipation of some small treat as Guy entered its little enclosure in the stables. He wished he had some small sweetmeat to give it, but had long since ran out. Patting it on the nose, he dug a grooming brush from one saddle-bag and started to brush along the grain of its coat. He may have let himself fall into being this fortress’s champion, but he wasn’t going to let it cause him to neglect his long-time friend.

He unstrapped the finely woven tail that was cupped over the stump of its own, docked, tail. It was a good match for the original, much more so than his current armour, which bore no relation to the armour which had been broken and thrown to his feet at the same ceremony. Protocol, he thought, had much to answer for. Omit the right words before you set out to kill someone and you’re branded ‘false to your plighted faith’.

Deciding that it was time to have it cleaned – or perhaps even replaced –

Guy left the stable to look for a weaver. Instead, he almost walked straight into Bernice, who was watching with a look of fierce concentration as Hugues and Girard raised a silver stand on which a trepanned skull lay, grinning with enigmatic superiority at the triple row of Parfaits kneeling before them.

‘Couldn’t get enough of me?’ Bernice suggested.

‘If I ever reach such a limit, I will let you know.’

‘Behold the calcified remnants,’ Girard intoned. ‘The only future of matter.’

‘What are they doing?’ Bernice asked.

‘I do not know. Some sort of ceremony to reaffirm their belief in spirit over matter, I suspect.’

‘It means that much to them, does it?’

‘They think that all the world was made by an evil god, Rex Mundi, while men’s spirits were made by a good one, Amor, with the principle of love or 112

some such. To them, all material things are made by evil.’ Bernice only nodded silently, and looked back to the ceremony. ‘This does not offend you?’

She gave a stifled laugh. ‘Look, Conan, I’ve been around quite a bit, and seen a lot of strange stuff. This is just another hokey religion in a long list.

Now keep quiet and let me try and memorize this so I can write it in a history book later.’

‘It has spread everywhere in Europe. How could you not have seen it before?’

‘Nobody’s seen this in over a thousand years . . . Where I come from, I mean.’

Guy fell silent. Girard had placed the skull on a pedestal by now, and turned to address the assembled Parfaits. ‘In a few days, our calendar will reach its perihelion, and you will each be able to share in that touch of knowledge without which the spirit cannot live. We shall leave this

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