Doctor Who_ Snakedance Part 4

'Why ever not?' said Madame Zara. She lifted the device from around Tegan's neck. 'What is it? What does it do?'

'I can't remember,' said Tegan haltingly. 'I mustn't . . .' She looked appealingly up at Madame Zara. 'Where am I?'

'In my little booth, dear. You pa.s.sed out and they brought you in here.

Are you feeling better?'

Tegan rubbed her hands over her eyes, trying desperately to regain her grip on reality. 'Yes ... I don't know . . . am I?' She looked at the device.

For some reason it was very important.' Why mustn't I. . . Please, who are you?'

'Madame Zara, dear, the fortune-teller. I see into the future. I expect it was the heat, and all the people . . .'

'I expect it was all the people,' repeated Tegan slowly.

'Of course, it was,' said Madame Zara chattily. 'It's easy to get confused in crowds, isn't it? Anyway, I'm glad you're feeling better.'

There was a small round black-draped table in the booth, with a gleaming crystal ball in the centre. Tegan's eyes seemed drawn to it. 'In that? You see the future in that?'

'Oh yes!' Madame Zara giggled. 'Well, between you and me, not really dear. I pretend. I flutter my fingers, gaze deep into the ball and then . .

.' She shrugged.

Tegan stared at her. 'And then?'

'Then I make something up, whatever comes into my head. Whatever I think they want to hear, really-after all, they're paying! It doesn't do any harm, does it? Mind you it's astonishing what does come into your head - sometimes I amaze myself!'

Tegan was swaying to and fro in her chair. 'Is it. . . surprising. . . what is it. . .'

Madame Zara was alarmed. 'What is it dear? What's wrong?'

Suddenly Tegan sat bolt upright, and spoke in a deep harsh voice. 'Is it?

Is it surprising? There was a terrible, mocking laugh. 'Look now?

Madame Zara stared as if hypnotised into her own crystal ball. She saw swirling mists, then a gradually solidifying shape. The shape of a snake's skull, with gnashing, drooling jaws. She screamed in terror as the crystal ball shattered into a thousand pieces.

4.

Hall of Mirrors

Madame Zara jumped up, still screaming in fear.

Tegan threw back her head and laughed, a harsh and terrifying laugh.

Then, cupping her chin in her hands, she stared fixedly at Madame Zara, seeming to drink in the woman's screams of terror with fierce satisfaction.

Tegan laughed again, and Madame Zara backed away, covering her face. When she looked again, Tegan was gone.

The Doctor and Nyssa were in conference in the TARDIS. 'The trouble is,' the Doctor was saying, 'We ' don't know nearly enough. Without more information, we're simply blundering around in the dark.'

'What about the TARDIS's data banks?'

The Doctor shook his head. 'This is the Mara's : homeworld, remember.

The answers we want are out there. I'll try the Director of Research again. Maybe I can make him listen this time.'

'What about me?'

'You have another go at looking for Tegan in the market-place. We'll meet back here.'

i Quite a crowd had gathered outside Madame Zara's fortune-telling booth. It seemed that something very dramatic had happened inside. A couple of market officials were with the hysterical fortune-teller now.

Tegan stood in the middle of the crowd, watching with the others, malicious amus.e.m.e.nt on her face . . .

Pushing her way through the market-place, Nyssa was attracted by the bustle outside the booth. Instinctively she made her way towards it.

She didn't see Tegan, but Tegan saw her. Nyssa felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned and saw Tegan, smiling strangely at her. 'Come to see the fun?'

'What fun?'

'The fortune-teller's having hysterics. She's still in there. She screamed and screamed and screamed!'

Nyssa looked curiously at her. It was unlike Tegan to take pleasure in someone's else's misfortune. 'Are you all right, Tegan? Where have you been?'

Tegan looked away, refusing to meet Nyssa's eye. 'Of course I'm all right. Why shouldn't I be?'

'You're not wearing the Doctor's anti-dreaming device.'

'I took it off,' said Tegan loftily. 'It wasn't necessary.'

'Tegan! What about the Mara?'

'Stop fussing! What Mara?' Tegan was jumping up and down to get a better view. 'Look, there she is, they're bringing her out!'

Nyssa looked and saw two men supporting a sobbing middle-aged woman, leading her out of the booth.

Tegan sn.i.g.g.e.red. 'She mustn't see me!'

To Nyssa's astonishment Tegan sank cross-legged to the ground covering her face like a child.

Nyssa watched as the fortune-teller was led away, then looked down at Tegan. Tegan looked cunningly up at her. 'You should have seen her face though! It was so funny! She screamed and screamed and screamed. You could see right down her throat!' Tegan looked away again.

Nyssa leaned down, took Tegan's chin in her hand, and forced Tegan to look her in the face. 'What's the matter with you? What's been going on? Tegan, look at me!'

Tegan stared up at her, defiantly at first, and then the facade of confident defiance crumbled, leaving an air of utter misery. 'Nyssa, help me,' she whispered. 'I made it appear?

'Made what appear?'

Tegan's face and voice changed dramatically. 'You fool! Leave me alone!' She sprang to her feet. 'Just leave me alone!' Thrusting Nyssa aside, Tegan disappeared into the crows.

'Tegan, come back!' called Nyssa.'

She hurried after her.'

The offices of the Director of Historical Research would have been luxurious if they hadn't been so cluttered with artefacts from every period of Sumaran history. Some were sorted and cla.s.sified, some still waiting Ambril's attention. Ambril's work was his life and he spent most of his waking hours in this room. At the far end of the room was a dining area and a table, upon which a servant was laying dinner.

Ambril was studying an ancient scroll at his desk when a curly-haired young man entered, wearing the brown robes and white collar of a sub-official. This was Chela, Ambril's a.s.sistant. He was a solemn young man who took his duties very seriously. He stood waiting deferentially by Ambril's desk. Ambril looked up. 'Yes, Chela, what is it?' 'He's here,' said Chela excitedly. 'The man you were telling me about. The man from the cave!'

'Oh, that man! No, I can't possibly spare the time to see him. Tell him to go away.'

Never one for hanging about in ante-rooms, the Doctor strode in.

'h.e.l.lo!' he said cheerfully.

Ambril sighed. 'Well, since you're here . . . Mind you, I know exactly what you want!'

'You do?'

'You've come to pester me with some more of the extravagant theories you've dreamed up concerning the Mara.' Ambril rose. 'Moreover, should I, the Director, fail to take sufficient notice of your colourful theories, it will mean the end of Civilisation As We Know It. How am I doing so far?'

'If you'd only listen' began the Doctor.

Ambril interrupted him. 'I'm sorry to disappoint you, but you know, you're hardly the first. For some reason the study of the Sumaran Era has always attracted more than its fair share of cranks. And they seem particularly numerous whenever a ceremony is due.'

'What ceremony?'

'The Ceremony of the Mara. Every ten years, we celebrate the end of the Mara's rule and its final destruction by the Federation. Surprise me.

Tell me you didn't know!'

'Exactly when is this ceremony to be held?'

'Tomorrow.'

'Impossible,' said the Doctor firmly. 'It must be called off, at least till my companion is found.'

'Oh certainly,' said Ambril airily.

The Doctor was taken aback. 'What?'

'A whole year of preparation, the Federator's son as guest of honour, but don't you worry, I'll just cancel the whole thing!' This time the mockery in Ambril's voice was plain. 'Now if you'll excuse me? My a.s.sistant here will show you out.'

Chela came forward, but the Doctor waved him away. 'Look, won't you at least consider the facts? First of all my companion brought us here, to this world, without ever having heard of it before. Now, why should she do that? Why here? Secondly, I was able to use hypnosis to establish the presence of the Mara in her mind. She has this recurring dream, you see, and in the dream -'

Chela said, 'A dream? Did you say a dream?' He looked significantly at Ambril.

'It proves nothing,' said Ambril hurriedly, 'Merely that he is acquainted with the Legend.'

'Of course,' said the Doctor. 'The Legend of the Return.'

Chela nodded. 'According to the Legend . . .'

'Don't encourage him Chela,' snapped Ambril.

'Director, please,' said Chela. 'What harm can it do?'

Ambril threw his hands in the air. 'All right all right! Humour him if you must, Chela. But remember -where the Legend is concerned there are no actual facts to impede the full flow of the popular imagination!'

Chela turned to the Doctor. 'According to the Legend, the Mara was not destroyed by the founders of the Federation, but only banished.'

'To the Dark Places of the Inside?'

Chela nodded. 'According to the Legend, the Mara will return in a dream.'

'What does it want?'

'The Legend foretells that the Mara will return to regain its power over men when the minds meet again in the Great Crystal.'

Ambril had been listening with increasing unease.

'That's enough, Chela.'

'But how can minds meet?' demanded the Doctor. 'What does it mean?'

'What indeed,' said Ambril crossly. 'It's wishy-washy mystical mumbo-jumbo.'

'But Director,' protested Chela. 'What about the Snakedancers?'

'More mumbo-jumbo. It appeals to certain types of mind. Lazy, primitive, uneducated minds mostly. I'm sorry to see that even my a.s.sistant isn't immune. You'll find that the Legend becomes more and more vague the more you try to elicit any kind of factual detail.' Ambril rose and began pacing about the room. 'I'm afraid this kind of mystical vagueness pervades the entire culture.' Glancing about the room, he s.n.a.t.c.hed something from a shelf and held it up. 'Now take this, for example.'

Ambril was holding a kind of ornate head-dress. It was surmounted by an elaborate crest which consisted of a number of face-masks in the shape of a fan. Ambril's voice took on his lecturer's drone. 'This particular artefact dates from the middle Sumaran era, and, unusually, is mentioned quite specifically in the Legend. There can be no doubt, the reference is to the 'Six Faces of Delusion'. Triumphantly Ambril held up the head-dress. 'Well, now, count the faces. One, two, three, four, five . . . You will observe that there are only five masks. Five faces, not six as the Legend would have it! Now, my point is this. I do find it extraordinarily difficult to take seriously a Legend that cannot even count accurately.' Ambril stroked the head-dress lovingly. 'Of course, artistically, it's an entirely-different matter. The piece is exquisite, an undoubted masterpiece.'

The Doctor said thoughtfully. 'It's a head-dress you say? A kind of hat?'

'Yes.'

'Try it on,' suggested the Doctor suddenly.

'What?'

'Try it on!'