[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

- and reflected on to the wine bottle, casting a red glow across the
Doctor's face. He could see the way the assassin's face remained calm, and
the way the shadows on his face didn't seem to match with the way the
sunlight was streaming through the windows. Motes of dust spun slowly
through the beams of sunlight, which themselves seemed almost solid enough
to support the weight of the wall. Nothing mattered - time was as massive
and as immobile as a cathedral.
And then time speeded up, and the knife was hurtling towards him, and there
was nothing he could do but die.
The Doctor's arm suddenly lashed out. His cane thudded home into the
assassin's stomach - deep into the assassin's stomach - and the man bent
double with a curiously high-pitched retching noise. Without conscious
thought Galileo leaped to his feet, grabbed the wine bottle and brought it
crashing down on the man's head. Shards of glass exploded across the table
and surrounding floor and the assassin fell heavily along with them. The
impact shook the boards of the floor. The patrons of the tavern moved back
a few feet and, for a moment, the normal hubbub was stilled. But only for a
moment.
"Let's get out," Galileo said, "lest the Nicolottis send another of their
paid men after me. They will never believe that I didn't poison that young
cur. My life in Venice is not worth a holed florin now. The Doge will never
-"
"I think," the Doctor said, kneeling down beside the figure, "that this...
man... was not sent by any human agency."
"What do you mean?" Galileo gazed wildly around. "Of course he was. The
Nicolottis want revenge. It's as plain as the nose on your face."
The Doctor reached out to touch the stunned assassin's back, and Galileo
gaped as the Doctor's hand seemed to plunge through the man's clothes and
skin up to the wrist.
"I... I don't..."
"No," murmured the Doctor, "you probably don't." He twisted his invisible
hand, and with a sound that reminded Galileo of the cheep of a bird, the
assassin's body shimmered and vanished. In its place was a figure so thin
that it could have been built out of the branches of a tree. Its skin was
blue and glossy, covered in wart-like bumps, and from its head there
sprouted a horn fully a foot long that had been broken in two by the wine
bottle. It moved weakly, trying to rise, but its twig-like fingers kept
slipping on the wine-soaked floor.
The Doctor's hand was resting on a small device of bright metal that was
attached to the creature's belt. "As I suspected," he said, "a hologram
generator. Did you notice the way the shadows on its face didn't accord
with the direction of the sunlight? I do believe that this attempt upon
your life was something to do with Envoy Albrellian, and the island of
Laputa. And there, of course, we will find all the answers we seek." His
nimble fingers undid the buckles that held the metal device. Pocketing it,
he stood up. "I think we should follow your most excellent advice, and make
ourselves scarce."
"But what about...?" Galileo pointed to the creature, unable to finish his
sentence.
"Oh, there will no doubt be some consternation when it is noticed, hmm?"
the Doctor said, "but I'm sure it will manage to make its escape." He
walked quickly towards the tavern door. Galileo followed, pausing only to
take a half-empty bottle of wine from a table as he passed. A commotion
arose behind him as he emerged from the tavern into the bright sunlight by
the side of a canal, but he couldn't tell whether it was because the
creature had been noticed or because he had taken the wine. As he stood
squinting beside the canal, a man in fine velvet clothes walked up to him.
"Galileo Galilei?" he said.
Galileo tensed. The Doctor turned, his cane half-raised.
"Doge Leonardo Donà sends his apologies for the delay. He will see the most
excellent device of which you spoke tomorrow morning at ten o'clock."
The man turned on his heel and was gone. Galileo turned to gaze at the
Doctor.
"It never rains," he said, "but it pours."
"Doctor?" Steven pushed the doors wide open and glanced around the rooms in
the Doge's palace that had been assigned to the three travellers. "Doctor,
are you there?"
Nobody answered. A stray breeze from the window fluttered the corners of
the tapestries and, outside the window, the voices of the crowd melded
together into an incessant buzz. There was no sound from anywhere in the
suite of rooms. The Doctor wasn't there.
Steven hadn't been with the Doctor long, but he knew that his mysterious
companion was very rarely silent. Whatever he did was accompanied by a
constant stream of "hmm?"s, "hah!"s and subvocalized murmurs. The Doctor
seemed incapable of doing anything in silence.
Behind Steven, Marlowe and Shakespeare entered the room.
"Very impressive," Marlowe said appreciatively. "I would swear that even
the palace of Good King James himself could not rival this for splendour,
eh Will?"
Steven glanced back to see Shakespeare looking around the room. "Indeed
not," the playwright said morosely. "Mostly the palace's walls are bare,
these days, and we perform in draughty halls to an audience so muffled in
robes and coats that they can barely make out what we are saying."
"Times are harsh then?" Marlowe clapped a hand on Shakespeare's shoulder.
"Word reached me that purse strings were being tightened and bellies were
rumbling, but I put it down to jealousy and the tendency of all foreigners
to malign our fair country."
Shakespeare shrugged. "The web of our life is of mingled yarn: good and ill
together. I shall not complain. Good King James is a fair patron and a
bonny monarch, but his largesse might lead one to believe that he had
access to a dragon's hoard. In his first year as monarch he made nine
hundred knights of his friends and would-be friends. He gives them money,
and favours, and all manner of privileges. A while ago one of his advisers,
distressed at the flow of money from the King's coffers to the pockets of
his favourites, ordered the latest round of 'gifts' to be counted out
before the throne, coin by golden coin. It took three hours." As Marlowe
chuckled, Shakespeare continued: "It helped, but not for long. Money is
flowing from the Treasury as blood flows from a man with a cut throat."
"Can we cut the reminiscences?" Steven snarled. "I know you two guys have
got a lot to catch up on, but we need to find the Doctor. He has to know
what you've both told me."
"And what is that, hmm?" a voice said from behind them all. Steven blinked,
surprised, as the Doctor swept into the room. Reaching the centre of the
room he turned to face the group. His face was imperious, and the light
from the window back-lit his head, turning his long white hair into a
glowing halo. "Now, before you say anything, I have something to tell you
all, and it concerns -" He paused, and glanced from Marlowe to Shakespeare
and back again. "Steven, who are these companions of yours? I hope you
haven't been wasting time while Vicki is undergoing heaven knows what
ordeals in drinking and carousing with disreputable companions?"
"Sorry?" Steven asked.
"I asked you -" He stopped and glanced to Steven's side. "Surely you are
William Shakespeare, are you not?" he enquired.
Shakespeare bowed low. "Honoured to make your acquaintance, sir," he
murmured. "And doubly honoured that you know my face, when I do not recall
ever having met you. Although -"
"Yes?" the Doctor said.
Shakespeare frowned slightly. "You do not have a younger brother, do you?
Tall, with curled brown hair and as strange a taste in clothes as your
own?" [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]