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Lungbarrow - Chapter Seven

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Darkrise

Andred's office was deserted when Leela arrived. Even his private secretary was absent, but K9 had ways to bypass the security codes on the doors and they were inside soon enough.

Leela sat in Andred's chair, her legs dangling over the arm, and tried to think.

'Awaiting orders, Mistress,' said K9.

'Who else knows the Doctor, K9?' she asked.

'Many people are acquainted with the Doctor-master. Shall I list them by planetary location?'

'On Gallifrey, I meant. Who are his friends? Other than Romana and Andred and Spandrell. And Rodan a bit. And Damon too, that strange one who is fifty times older than he looks. And there is me, of course.'

'There is K9, Mistress.'

'Of course, there is you, K9. But who else really knows him well?'

K9 whirred with consideration. 'Mistress? Does "to know well" imply longest duration of acquaintance?'

Leela spun the chair on its pivot. 'Possibly. But if that was the case, then the people that anyone knows best are their parents.'

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'There are no parents on Gallifrey.'

'No,' she sighed. 'I thought that was sad.'

'Therefore the Doctor's earliest acquaintances were his Cousins at the House of Lungbarrow - no longer in existence.'

'We are going in circles,' she said, stopping the chair. 'There must still be Cousins.'

'Mistress?'

'The Doctor's Family. People leave the village, K9. It's an initiation when they leave the tribe to hunt in the forest alone. It is only the House that has disappeared.'

'The House is the people,' said K9.

Leela was astonished. 'But there must be records of other Cousins.'

'Negative, Mistress. No records. I have checked.'

She pulled at the beads in her hair. 'What happened to them? They cannot all be dead.'

K9's head lowered. 'No information, Mistress.'

'Then we must find some.' She thought for a moment and said slowly, 'Do you know Master Andred's security accession codes? The ones that he will not give to me.'

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'One moment,' said K9. Again there was the whirring, which made her think he was receiving data from elsewhere.

'Affirmative, Mistress. I have the codes.'

'Well, do not tell me. I must not know.'

'Affirmative.'

'Now use the codes I do not know about to access Master Andred's security system.'

A sensor extended from the centre of K9's head and touched the console port on Andred's desk. 'System accessed,' said K9, more quickly than turning a key. 'From here I have access to eighty-six thousand three hundred and forty-six other systems.'

'Good,' said Leela. 'He cannot have checked all of those. See if any of them make a reference to the word "Lungbarrow".'

'Why is everything so big here?' said Chris. 'I mean all the furniture?'

Arkhew snuffled into his sleeve again. 'It's the House,' he said as if it was obvious. 'Don't you have a home?'

'Yes, but not like this,' said Chris. 'We sit down on chairs. You have to climb up into them.'

Arkhew looked bewildered. 'I thought all Houses were the same. It's when you leave home that you grow up. The furniture here is big to make you feel small.'

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Chris stood quickly as the tall woman called Innocet hurriedly pushed through the gathering towards them. Like someone on the run, he thought. Behind her, leaning heavily on a cane, came the elderly man in dark green. The man who had been hunting her in the study.

'Cousin Glospin,' muttered Arkhew, making no attempt to disguise his hatred.

'I'd guessed,' said Chris.

'Innocet,' barked Glospin. 'I want a word with you.' He caught her arm and pulled her into an alcove by one of the windows. 'There were some documents that I left in my room, but someone has disturbed them.'

'Yes,' she said simply. 'You were missed here. I came to find you, but you were busy with your "visitor" from the Chapterhouse.'

Glospin tapped his cane irritably on the floor. He scowled round at the glances they were getting from the rest of the family. Chris had moved in, followed by Arkhew, to get a front-row seat.

The old man leant in towards Innocet and hissed, 'The captain has delivered the facility to transfer Quences's mind to the Matrix on his death. As is the custom.'

'Naturally,' said Innocet.

'Hang on,' muttered Chris to Arkhew. 'Does that mean that Quences isn't dead after all?'

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The little man looked at him in bewilderment. 'He hasn't read his will yet.'

'And the documents?' Innocet continued.

'Not a word!' warned Glospin. 'Those are private papers which you had no business to read.'

She stared in disbelief. 'You must be mad. This research of yours... it's wild nonsense. No one will believe you.'

'I want the Family purged once and for all of this monstrous infection.'

'I forbid it,' she said. 'Those documents will not go to the Chapterhouse.'

His thin shoulders shook with laughter. 'Innocet, Innocet. Go back to your books.'

'If the Chapterhouse read those papers, Lungbarrow will be a laughing stock. There's going to be enough trouble over Owis without you making things worse.'

He was suddenly smooth and calm. 'I don't expect you to believe anything. But you've read the proof in the documents already, so you know I'm right. Never mind the implications for our Family, my discovery will turn all of history and all your precious classics on their heads.'

'Blasphemy.' Her face was like stone. 'I don't know who you're involved with, Glospin. But I'll not let you pass this irreverent nonsense on. I'll speak to the captain myself.'

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'The captain's already gone. I'm fully empowered to make Quences's mind transfer myself.' He took her arm. 'Your devotion's very touching, Cousin. But you can't argue with genetic proof. You'll understand... once the shock's worn off. Our Family's hatched a serpent in its clutch. And what a serpent!'

'He's still alive and still our Cousin. So Owis has no legal right to exist!' A moment of panic crossed Innocet's implacable features. 'You've seen him! At the Capitol, you've visited -,

'Careful,' he said. 'That name's forbidden, remember?'

She lowered her head, took a deep breath and tried to compose herself. 'What have you done to your hand?' she said.

Glospin pulled down his sleeve, but Chris had noticed that the whole forearm had an inflamed burn scar.

'It's nothing. An accident at the Eugenics Faculty. It'll heal. Now give me back my document.'

'You have copies,' she said.

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Glospin shook his old head. 'Deep down in your hearts you know I'm right. You're too late, Cousin. Quences will be here at any moment. And after the old fool's read out my inheritance, I shall assume my rightful place as new Kithriarch of the Family.'

'Excuse me, Cousins,' butted in Owis, who had been trying to attract their attention. 'Someone says that as Replacements go, and given the fact that characteristics can skip a regeneration, I am almost half as intelligent as they might expect me to be.' He paused and looked baffled. 'Is that a compliment?'

'Dolt!' Glospin raised his cane to strike Owis, but a deep gong boomed. The far doors of the hall flung themselves wide open.

Arkhew gripped Chris's arm. 'It's starting,' he whispered.

The crowd of guests parted to let through the cortege. At its head, carrying an ornate staff twice her height, was the old bonneted woman in black whom Chris had seen in the rocking chair. She scanned the Family with a vicious eye as she ceremoniously led the way towards the raised plinth.

'Who's grandma?' muttered Chris.

'You mean Cousin Satthralope? She's the Housekeeper.' Arkhew turned away, but Chris pulled him back.

'I think you'd better talk me through this, Arkhew,' he said. 'Give me any detail you think is important. Just treat me as if I know nothing.'

'My Family are shameful,' said Arkhew despairingly. He nodded at the younger version of himself, who was pushing eagerly to the front of the crowd. 'They get what they deserve.'

Chris shrugged. 'All families are like that. You should hear my lot.'

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Behind Satthralope glided the two huge wooden servants (the House Drudges, said Arkhew), their identically angular faces hard in the lamplight. A massive ornamental bier trundled between them, apparently moving by itself. It was carved from black wood and covered with the fearsome beasts of a grotesque alien mythology. Their enamelled eyes rolled hungrily as the bier processed across the hail. A carved tail snaked behind it. High on the bier sat the wizened old man whom Chris had seen in Satthralope's mirror.

'Ordinal-General Quences,' guessed Chris. 'How come he's still alive at his own funeral?'

The old man was wrapped in furs. His head drooped, apparently too heavy for his scrawny neck to support.

'He's the Family Kithriarch,' said Arkhew. 'This is his chosen Deathday. That's why he's riding the ceremonial catafalque. He won't die until he has read out his will. Then he'll be interred in the Family vaults under the House.'

'If he lasts that long,' Chris said, but the potential grisliness of the proceedings chilled him. 'How old is he?'

Arkhew thought for a moment. 'I can't remember. I know it's a fair age. He must be over seven thousand by now.'

'What?' exploded Chris. 'Seven thousand years?'

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'Give or take a hundred,' said Arkhew, taken aback. 'Don't forget that later regenerations tend to be shorter in their longevity.'

'Hang on a minute,' said Chris in gathering realization. 'Is this Gallifrey by any chance?'

Arkhew's jaw dropped in incomprehension.

'Silence!' shouted Satthralope and banged her staff on the floor. 'The House of Lungbarrow greets the reunion of its kith on this occasion of solemnity, the thirteenth and final Deathday of its four hundred and twenty-second Kithriarch Quencessetianobayolocaturgrathadeyyilungbarrowmas.'

A hand-like chair slid sedately up behind her and she climbed up into its palm. Staring ahead, she waited for the old man enthroned on the massive bier to begin.

Chris moved forward through the gathering, sometimes literally through them, guiding Arkhew in front of him. He pointed to a stack of objects piled beside Quences's bier. 'His Deathday presents,' said Arkhew. 'They're interred with him in his vault.'

Quences, his head nodding slightly, focused his watery eye on each of the crowd in turn.

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After a while, the Family began to mutter among themselves. Satthralope's chair shifted its fingers irritably.

'Well?' hissed the Housekeeper. 'Your audience is waiting. Deliver that interminable speech you've been composing for the past year.'

Quences cleared the phlegm from his throat. 'No,' he croaked.

'No? What do you mean "No"?'

The old man gave a curdled moan. 'Not until all the Cousins are assembled.'

'We are waiting,' she said emphatically as if the old man was half senile and deaf. 'All forty-four of us. Do you want a roll-call?'

He shook his head. 'No. No will-reading until all the Cousins are here.' There was a loud animal snort of disapproval. The bestial catafalque on which the old man sat shuddered irritably.

'Drudge!' called Satthralope to one of the servants. 'Bring me the Family register.' As the creature glided away, the Housekeeper leant sideways in her chair towards Quences. Her face was lit with fury. Chris moved in closer to hear as she muttered at the old man. 'I know what you're up to. I know who you mean. This has been argued before. That miscreant has been disinherited and banished from the Family. You did it yourself.'

'The matter was never settled,' growled Quences.

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'Oh, yes it was. He is dead - or as good as - and he has been replaced.'

A number of the Cousins turned to look at Owis, who was smiling gormlessly beside Innocet.

'The matter is not settled,' repeated Quences. 'No will. Not until I'm ready.'

More rumours started to run through the crowd. It was reported that the House of Lungbarrow was on the agenda at an emergency session of the Council of Cardinals at Prydon Chapterhouse.

Somebody called out, 'What about the birth of a Replacement Cousin? Isn't that illegal if no one's died?'

Satthralope's chair reared up, raising the old woman high above the crowd. 'Who's insulting the House? Rassilon's Death! Anyone who questions this House's probity will answer to me! How many more disinherited do you want?'

'How high can you count to?' heckled another voice.

'What about our inheritance?' shouted another. And others called out in agreement.

Arkhew sank to the floor, his hands dithering, shaking, imploring in the onset of a new panic. 'Please stop it,' he whispered. 'I don't want to see. I can't bear it. Not again!' He made a sudden lunge and clamped himself to Chris's ankle. The young Adjudicator was transfixed, unable to move as the little man clung on, unable not to witness the approaching horror.

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Silence fell suddenly. Quences was struggling to descend from his bier. He allowed the remaining Drudge to help him to the floor and then brushed it away with contempt. Satthralope made no attempt to help as he hobbled towards her chair and leant his weight on its back. 'You mob of milky, self-scraping whiners. Where's your sense of familial duty? You have as few wits between you as a rush of startled tafelshrews. Not one of you... No, not one is worthy to inherit my legacy.'

More insults were flung by the crowd. Chris glanced round and saw that Glospin was standing at the back. His eyes were fixed on Satthralope. A wicked smile was playing across his face.

Satthralope banged her staff for order. 'Silence! How much more shame will you pour on our House and on the Loom that bore us all? Hasn't there been enough?'

As if in answer, a shudder rumbled through the structure of the House. Arkhew yelped with fright. His grip on Chris's ankle tightened.

'Read the will!' shouted the Cousins. 'What about our inheritance!'

'Never!' Quences sat back down again. 'Not until all the Cousins are here.'

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'Can't you guess who he means?' called Glospin. He began to push through the Cousins, swinging out at them with his stick. He reached the dais and turned to face his Family. 'Don't you know who he's waiting for? Isn't it obvious?'

And Chris knew too. The Cousin whose name was banned; who never turned up on time; who had been so reluctant to stay.

The shouting got worse.

'All right!' shouted Satthralope. 'If that's what you want. Then we can all wait as long as Quences sees fit!'

She struck her staff on the floor again. There was a whirring noise as the wheels and orbits of the clock above them began to turn. With a dull clang, the clock started to chime. The great doors to the hall slammed themselves shut. The House began to tremble.

The Cousins stared about them in alarm.

'No!' shouted Glospin. He lunged towards Quences, but faltered and stumbled. His face went white as he clutched at his chest in pain. He toppled to the shaking floor.

The Cousins panicked, running wildly for the doors, only to find their paths blocked by the towering Drudges.

Chris cried out as Arkhew twisted his ankle. The little man was pointing up at the clock on the gallery. A skinny figure was turning and spinning on the intersliding dials. It was Arkhew, his distant face contorted in a silent scream. 'It's my dream,' Arkhew was shouting. 'My dream!'

And somewhere, Chris realized, he was lying on an attic floor with web in his eyes. Not my dream at all, he thought. I'm being shown it, because someone wants me to know.

The tremor was deepening. The big tables suddenly stampeded across the hall, scattering food in their wake. One Cousin was trampled in the rush. Dust plumed down from the rafters. Bats, disturbed from their roosts, flittered over the terrified Cousins' heads.

As the rumbling grew to a roaring quake, a darkness, far blacker than the silvery twilight outside, rose inexorably up the full length of the tall windows.