Doctor Who: Sanctuary by David A. McIntee

Author:David A. McIntee
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Science-Fiction:Doctor Who
ISBN: 9780426204398
Publisher: Doctor Who Books
Published: 1995-06-15T10:00:00+00:00

The truce was signed in silence, but all through the scratching of quill on parchment, Hugues wore the look of someone with a sour taste in his mouth, Jeanne glanced back at the walls with a worried look and Giselle remained stoic.

When the twenty hostages – ten of each sex and all volunteers, Girard had assured – were gathered and ready to move, Louis was unaccountably glad to be leaving the Roc. Perhaps Guzman was right after all, he thought. There was something unnerving about their willingness to give themselves up to the flames; perhaps because, in his experience, such people often attempted to take those around them with them.

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

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