Doctor Who_ Eye Of Heaven Part 3

The Doctor took the sparkly talisman from Stockwood and made it vanish. 'Now there's a coincidence.'

'Quite.' Stockwood poured himself another drink.

'The tablet?'

'No. I keep that safely locked away. But some of my notebooks were disturbed. And one was missing.'

'Let me guess. The notebook contained a translation of the inscription on the tablet.'

'More precisely, my notes on the structure of the language inscribed there. But with that knowledge anyone could decipher the inscription.'

'And has the tablet been sketched or displayed at all?'

'Briefly. About fifteen years ago. Oh, the British Museum contacted me and discussed a collection based on my findings. About five years ago, that was. I decided against it.'

'Too close to your own solution?'

'Age and public ridicule have made me a suspicious man, Doctor. It is hard to trust anyone when you have been declared a charlatan as many times as I.'

'I see. And do you have any idea who might want to steal the work of someone held in as much scientific disregard as yourself?'

Stockwood sighed wearily. 'I have no idea. Between ourselves I wondered briefly if my servant James might not have been persuaded to allow someone to enter the premises unseen in return for money. G.o.d knows, in all fairness I can't pay him anything like a reasonable wage.'

The Doctor began to pace. He seemed agitated but also happy. This was normal. He loved a mystery. 'So you're worried that a rival will steal your findings and claim them as his own?'

Stockwood nodded. 'I can't afford to return to Rapa Nui to prove my observations. If this... this nemesis can, then I will never have a chance to prove that I was right.'

And you have absolutely no idea who this fellow could be?' Stockwood shook his head 'n.o.body believes me - they think I'm mad. Who would want to steal secrets from a madman?'

'Another madman, perhaps?' The Doctor tapped a fingernail against his teeth thoughtfully. 'I imagine a man in your position knows of one or two reputable dealers of objets personnels.' objets personnels.'

'You mean p.a.w.nbrokers?'

'If you will.' The Doctor took out a pocket watch and flipped open the lid. 'Eighteen seventy-two... half past August. Yes, there should be several appropriate establishments just off the Portobello Road.' He flipped the watch closed, slipped it back into his pocket. 'Leela, I have to see a man about some gold. In the meantime, I want you to stay with Stockwood. See what you can find out. And remember, you're his best friend, all right? No daggers!'

I frowned, but nodded. I hardly ever understood the Doctor but I trusted him.

'Good. I'll see you later on this afternoon.' Tipping his hat politely to Stockwood, the Doctor left.

3.

Downhil Run

Another three nine-days had come and gone. We had pa.s.sed the Equator amid strange, directionless winds and much singing by the men. Now I was perched on the cathead, my legs curled underneath beside the anchor ropes to keep me secure. The cathead was made of planks as wide as my leg and jutted out from the forecastle level with the deck but at an angle to the bowsprit. The anchor was tightly lashed to the deck beside me. I was watching large grey fish Jack called dolphins dolphins dive and swim all around the prow of the ship. dive and swim all around the prow of the ship.

Stockwood clung to the port deck rail a few feet from me. Beyond him the men inhabited the rigging and the decks, going boisterously about the business of running the ship. Today the sun was hot and Tweed Tweed had made all the sail she could. The shrouds billowed above the ship, snapping and cracking in the wind. From the mainsail boom on the mizzenmast, twice a man's height above the deck, I could just see the Doctor leading the men in a chorus of a song he called 'Octopus's Garden'. had made all the sail she could. The shrouds billowed above the ship, snapping and cracking in the wind. From the mainsail boom on the mizzenmast, twice a man's height above the deck, I could just see the Doctor leading the men in a chorus of a song he called 'Octopus's Garden'.

Matthews, the ship's bosun, loved the Doctor. When he was on deck, Tweed Tweed easily made half again the average day's travel. easily made half again the average day's travel.

I hadn't realised the Doctor loved so much to sing. In the Tribe of Sevateem the only songs we sang were of victory in the hunt, of war against other tribes, or of celebration at a new birth or coming of age.

Songs of death and life. The songs of this land were so different. I had never thought that there could be songs about so many things.

Diamonds. Revolutions. Guitars. Meter Maids. Even an octopus. I asked Spanker Jack what an octopus was and he described it to me, laughing at my ignorance. It sounded like a very strange animal to sing songs about.

The dolphins I was watching seemed to appreciate the song, too - or perhaps it was the tones of the Doctor's voice, booming like the wind itself across the decks, that moved them. They leapt from the water in arcs that left miniature rainbows glimmering in the spray in their wakes. Somehow they seemed to be able to do this in time with the song.

Close by me Stockwood nodded, smiling. I noticed and was pleased. It had been many nine-days since I had seen him smile. Now at last, the anger he felt at our expedition being hijacked was beginning to fade. That was good. Anger is not beneficial to revenge.

'They're lovely when they play.' Stockwood pointed at the dolphins 'They remind me of being a child.'

I changed position slightly on the cathead, shifting to keep my balance as Tweed Tweed cut through the water. 'When I was a child I learnt to hunt and kill. I could use a crossbow when I was seven summers old. I made my first kill at eight summers. I was a good hunter. I used to teach the other children of the tribe.' cut through the water. 'When I was a child I learnt to hunt and kill. I could use a crossbow when I was seven summers old. I made my first kill at eight summers. I was a good hunter. I used to teach the other children of the tribe.'

Stockwood did not seem to know how to respond to my statement.

After a short silence he said, 'You mean you never played? You had no games?'

'We had games. Whoever killed the most bark-skippers in a day had more food at mealtimes.'

'Oh.'

'I killed three in one day once. Bark-skippers are very fast.'

'I should think they probably were.' Stockwood drew attempted to relight his pipe, which had gone out. 'I would be too if I thought you were hunting me.'

'I would not hunt you, Stockwood. You are my -'

' - my best friend. Yes, I know.'

'Good.'

I went back to watching the dolphins, ignoring the odd tone in Stockwood's voice. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that his attempts to relight his pipe had failed. The wind was too strong. And now I felt moisture on my face. It was beginning to rain. I looked up. Clouds had swept up across the sky. The sun was fading. The Doctor stopped singing as the bosun began to call for the sails to be furled. Some of the men began to fill wooden tubs with rainwater to wash in.

The Doctor climbed quickly down the rigging and swung on to the deck. Somehow he managed to do this without losing either his hat or his scarf. He was grinning broadly as he strode towards us. He stopped by the deck rail and reached into the pockets of his jacket, emerging with two pairs of unfamiliar objects. 'Presents,' he announced, handing us the objects.

'Lemons and soap.' Stockwood frowned. 'Can I take it you are implying something?'

The Doctor's grin widened even further. 'The ship's out of fresh fruit.

Lemon juice is an excellent preventive for scurvy. As for the soap... 'The Doctor looked sideways at me and winked. 'I rather imagine that speaks for itself.'

I looked at the lemon. Jack had told me he once saw someone go blind from scurvy. I bit deeply into the lemon, munched and swallowed.

I did not want to go blind. At the same time I sniffed suspiciously at the soap, then tasted a piece. I spat it out immediately. 'You are trying to poison me!'

Stockwood roared with laughter. 'Not as nice as chocolate surprise, eh, Leela?'

The Doctor explained, 'We've been at sea for sixty-eight days. You haven't washed for three weeks.' The Doctor nodded back over his shoulder at the sailors splashing rainwater over their bodies. 'It's not ladylike.'

'I am not a lady! I am a -'

' - warrior of the Sevateem. Yes, I know. A hunter. You wash when the prey washes, or they smell you coming.' The doctor smiled a bit to take the edge off his words. 'Well, animals wash when it rains, Leela, and it's raining now I suggest you take advantage of the weather and hunt down a bucket of clean water.'

I glared angrily at the Doctor. 'I thought you understood about the rituals of the Place of Land.'

'And I thought you wanted to learn about your ancestors.'

'I do!'

'Well, then, why not start with the Ritual of Carbolic?'

'Carbolic?'

'Yes. In this land Carbolic is the patron saint of sailors and hunters.'

'He is?' I was doubtful. I had never heard of this G.o.d.

'Oh yes.'

'Oh.'

The bar of soap I just gave you is his holy symbol. It's even named after him'

'It is?'

'Oh yes. Use this once a day with clean water and everyone will be your friend.'

'In that case I will do as you say.'

'Good. Now off you go while I have a little chat with young Horace here.'

Stockwood frowned. 'I'm hardly young, Doctor.'

'Believe me, Horace, by the standards of my people Methuselah was a babe in arms.'

I turned back, interested. 'Methuselah?'

'Soap, Leela!'

'All right, I'm going!'

'And don't forget to wash behind your ears.'

'I know!' Leaving the Doctor to his 'little chat' and chewing on the lemon, I took the soap and went in search of a bucket. I found one easily enough in the galley, located beneath the forecastle where I had been sitting on the cathead. The cook was busy preparing food when I got there. He was a man of extremes, with ma.s.sive arms, oddly spindly legs and a habit of either speaking very quietly or screaming loudly - usually at Jack, when the boy had not worked as hard or fast as the cook thought he should. He came from a place called Glasgow, and apparently saw no reason to make an effort to be understood when he spoke.

I moved quietly into the galley, stole a leg of chicken from the pot while Cook was shouting at someone, grabbed the nearest bucket and got out fast.

I had not been below decks much since being released from the hold, where we had been imprisoned. Though the upper decks were interesting enough, the inside of the ship made me nervous. I did not like the idea of being close to the water, or even beneath it, even though the ship was well caulked and did not leak except slightly in the bilges. The only thing that drew me to the lower decks was the pig pen.

Carrying the right sort of food was important on a long sea voyage. The Doctor had explained to me that lack of meat or fresh vegetables could result in a disease he called rickets. He said he once saw someone die blind from rickets rickets on a ship called on a ship called Santa Maria. Santa Maria. Hence the pigs. For myself I found the old sow and her piglets to be an interesting diversion if I got bored or restless, which I did from time to time. A hunter runs often and becomes restless when confined. Hence the pigs. For myself I found the old sow and her piglets to be an interesting diversion if I got bored or restless, which I did from time to time. A hunter runs often and becomes restless when confined. Tweed Tweed was a big ship -much bigger than my old village if you counted all her deck s.p.a.ce - but, of course, it was impossible to get off her. Running on the decks was impossible because the men were working there. And in any case there was nothing to hunt. I was eating regularly and getting fat. This made me feel strange. I had never been fat before. That was a privilege of the village shamans -those who mind-worked and communed with the G.o.ds. was a big ship -much bigger than my old village if you counted all her deck s.p.a.ce - but, of course, it was impossible to get off her. Running on the decks was impossible because the men were working there. And in any case there was nothing to hunt. I was eating regularly and getting fat. This made me feel strange. I had never been fat before. That was a privilege of the village shamans -those who mind-worked and communed with the G.o.ds.

Whenever I felt most restless I would come and talk to the pigs. The old sow had a reputation of being irritable and bad-tempered - anyone would if confined below decks and denied access to the sun and the sky - but I liked her. Shortly after being released I had come to the pig pen and climbed in. The smell was comfortingly familiar. I wanted to think. The old sow had grunted and shoved her huge body against me. I shoved her back as hard as I could, and kept shoving until she left me alone. Now we regarded each other with a kind of mutual respect. But the piglets seemed to like it when I was there. They nuzzled and jumped on me. I liked the piglets. I sometimes slipped the catch and let them out of the pen, just for the pleasure of helping to run them down. It was a good game. I found I did not like it when, every few nine-days, one was slaughtered for food - even though the meat of such well-fed animals was by far the best I had ever tasted.

Now I walked back along the mid-deck, planning to climb down the ladder to the orlop, the lowest deck on the ship - the place where the ballast and bilges were located - and home to the pigs. But as I came to the ship's waist, to the place where the main mast cut down through the deck head and pa.s.sed through the ship to finally connect with the keel, I stopped.

Tweed was by no means a silent ship. At any time you could hear the sounds of men working and shouting, the hammering and sawing of running repairs, of food being prepared, of running feet, shouted orders, the crack of the sails and creak of the rigging. The sounds that stopped me now were not unfamiliar in themselves - only when taken together. was by no means a silent ship. At any time you could hear the sounds of men working and shouting, the hammering and sawing of running repairs, of food being prepared, of running feet, shouted orders, the crack of the sails and creak of the rigging. The sounds that stopped me now were not unfamiliar in themselves - only when taken together.

A hunter takes note of everything. The sound of a man and woman talking was not unusual. What was unusual was who was talking.

Richards, obviously. She was the only other woman aboard the ship. But the man was Royston. Royston who had spent so much of the time since we had left England trying to convince me he was trustworthy.

What was he doing talking to the woman I had every intention of killing at the first opportunity?

I moved closer, keeping to the side of the companionway, and found the voices coming from inside Richards's cabin. I crouched beside the door and listened.

'I have money.' That was Royston. 'I can arrange to give you a banker's draft - or gold if you prefer. All I ask is that -'

'I know what you want of me. I have money of my own. You must realise that. If you want my cooperation you must forget about money. A more important consideration would be asking me to forget that you are his best friend.' Richards was angry -the emphasis on the word 'his' was very clear. Richards was obviously referring to Stockwood. By the tone of her voice she clearly hoped to see him dead. It was her good luck she had not made any serious attempt to do so while aboard ship.

But Royston was Stock wood's oldest friend. What was he doing trying to strike a bargain with the one who so obviously wanted Stockwood dead?

'If you want my help you must renounce your friendship with Stockwood. Do that and I will consider your offer.'

There was a long silence from the cabin. I wondered what Royston's response would be. I was not going to find out. In a moment or less conversation resumed - and quickly become an argument.

I moved away from the cabin and climbed through the hatch leading to the main deck a moment before the door banged open and Royston strode out.