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8
The Origin of Evil
Nyssa tried to run, but the bodyguard was too quick for her. Grabbing her as she tried to dodge past, he seized her arms with hands like metal clamps and dragged her back into the room.
Lady Tanha regarded her prisoner uneasily. 'Where is Ambril, he really should be here. I am really not sure what to do . . . This is not a situation to which one is accustomed.' She took the key from Nyssa's hand and said politely. 'I think perhaps you'd better come with me. Isn't that what one usually says in these circ.u.mstances?'
Pleased to have found an acceptable formula, Lady Tanha nodded to the bodyguard and left the room. The bodyguard followed, bringing Nyssa with him.
There was a puppet-show in the market. Hordes of enthusiastic children, and some adults too, gathered round to watch the beaky-nosed figure of the villain-hero as he attacked and abused his wife, chased off the Federation civic guard, and was finally swallowed up by a giant puppet snake which rose from the depths of the little booth.
Ambril stood staring at it unseeingly. He was in a fever of impatience.
Lon had led him here, then left him while he went off to another stall.
But to Ambril's relief, he saw Lon returning, carrying a couple of lanterns.
They were paper lanterns, the kind carried during the ceremony, made of rice-paper with a candle inside, and painted in garish snake-patterns.
'Here we are,' said Lon. 'Just what we need.'
'What are they for, my Lord?'
'Oh, we must be properly equipped.'
'But where are we going?'
'Just you wait and see. Come on.'
Lon led the astonished Director through the crowd.
The Doctor was still absorbed in Dojjen's journal. 'So Dojjen believed the Legend of the Mara to such an extent he gave up everything and went up into the hills to purify himself in readiness?'
'He was mad,' said Chela uneasily. 'n.o.body believes in the Legend these days.'
The door opened and Lady Tanha appeared.
'My Lady,' said Chela in astonishment.
'Bring her in,' ordered Tanha.
The bodyguard marched Nyssa into the cell area. Almost apologetically Tanha said, 'I'm afraid I have another prisoner for you.'
Lon and Ambril had reached the top of the flight of steps.
By now the entrance to the Cave of the Snake was draped with festive banners and bunting, in honour of the coming ceremony. Ambril looked at Lon in astonishment. 'In there? My Lord? But that's impossible. All the pa.s.sages have been thoroughly explored over the years.'
'That's what you think,' said Lon cheerfully. 'Come along.' He paused.
'No, wait a moment, we might as well do this properly.' He slipped a scarf from around his neck. 'One moment, Director.'
'My Lord what is this?' spluttered Ambril, pulling away.
'A blindfold.'
'Certainly not!'
'You don't have to wear it,' said Lon negligently. 'It just depends how much you want the honour of making this important archaeological discovery on your own.'
'You would allow me the credit?'
'Certainly,' Lon held up the blindfold. 'It's up to you!'
'Very well.'
Nervously Ambril came forward, and let Lon tie the scarf about his eyes.
Chela ushered Lady Tanha back into Ambril's room, and watched her return the key to the desk. 'I caught the girl quite by chance,' she said. 'I was actually looking for my son.'
'He was here, my Lady. Apparently he had something confidential to discuss with the Director.'
'Did he really? How odd. How very odd!'
Lon complicated Ambril's blindfold journey as much as he could, leading him stumbling up and down the cave pa.s.sages. But eventually he led the apprehensive Director to the entrance to the secret chamber, opening it, as had Tegan, with the pressure of the snake-mark on his arm against a section of the rock.
'Forward,' directed Lon. 'Another three steps. Now wait there. Now, over the step, three more steps forwards and stop.' As the door closed behind them, Lon slipped the blindfold from Ambril's eyes. 'There!
You've done splendidly.'
Ambril peered around the chamber, which was illuminated only by the faint yellow light of the lanterns.
Lon pointed. 'Over there. I trust you will not be disappointed.'
Like Dugdale before him, Ambril saw the treasures piled carelessly in the corner and was overwhelmed. He knelt reverently to examine them. 'Disappointed, my Lord? No indeed!'
'It was all worth it, then?"
Ambril was examining the treasures with trembling hands. 'My Lord the very existence of these objects . . .' he said brokenly. 'So entirely unexpected. It's amazing, my Lord, this is the greatest moment . . .'
Ambril moved his lantern to reveal more of the treasure trove. The little circle of light illuminated Dugdale's booted feet.
Slowly Ambril raised the lantern, revealing Dugdale's blank, staring face. For a moment the showman gave no reaction to the light. Then suddenly he jerked into life like an automaton. 'Roll up, roll up.
wonderful entertainment, children half price. Step this way please for the Spectacle of a Lifetime. Tread the misty corridors of Time. Visit the dark and distant sh.o.r.es of the imagination . . .'The cracked voice cut out as suddenly as it had begun.
Ambril looked at Lon in horror. 'Where am I? What is this place?'
A harsh voice spoke from the shadows. 'Stop wasting time.'' Tegan stepped forward, red-eyed, red-mouthed. ' Where is the Great Crystal?'
Ambril looked round wildly. He made a pathetic attempt at a laugh. 'It's all a hoax, isn't it, my Lord? Just a prank at my expense? There are some n.o.ble friends of yours, aren't they? It is all an elaborate hoax - isn't it?'
Lon jabbed at the pile of treasures with his foot, 'And these?' He took a fine porcelain vase from Ambril's hands. 'Are they part of the hoax?
After all, you're the expert.'
He opened his hands, and the vase dropped from his hands, shattering on the stone floor.
'No,' screamed Ambril. 'No!'
Through Tegan's mouth the Mara spoke again. ' Where is the Great Crystal?'
' Why?' said Ambril distractedly. 'Why is everyone so interested in the Great Crystal?'
'Everyone?' said Lon.
'Who else?' demanded Tegan.
Ambril looked at their threatening faces. 'Oh, some crank . . .'
Tegan moved closer. 'His name?'
'He calls himself the Doctor, although personally I rather doubt that he has the right -'
'The Doctor must not interfere,' hissed Tegan. 'He must be killed.'
Ambril looked at her in horror. 'Killed?'
'Forget the Doctor,' said Lon. 'You see, Director, my friend Tegan here has a theory. In order to test it, the Great Crystal must be placed in its socket during the Ceremony.'
'No! That is quite impossible!'
'Nothing is impossible,' said Tegan flatly.
Lon bent down and scooped up a double handful of precious objects.
'Now listen to me, Ambril. If you do not co-operate, I will guarantee that you will never set eyes on any of these trinkets again, /shall destroy them. And you will always know that they existed - somewhere.' He dashed a figurine to the ground. 'That you discovered them - once.' A vase followed the figurine. 'Held them in your hands - once.' Another crystal goblet shattered. 'And then lost them forever.
It's up to you.'
Ambril could have resisted bribes or threats but to watch the wanton destruction of irreplaceable antiques was more than he could bear. 'No, wait,' he sobbed. 'All right, I agree. I'll do as you ask.'
The Doctor was still locked up in his cell. The difference was that now he had Nyssa for company.
To Nyssa's exasperation, the Doctor was sitting placidly on his bunk reading Dojjen's journal.
'What are we going to do, Doctor?'
The Doctor looked up. 'Shush!' He went on reading.
"Doctor!'
He looked up again. 'Well, what do you suggest?'
'We've got to get out of here.'
'How?'
'If only we still had the sonic screwdriver!'
'Well, we haven't,' said the Doctor mildly. 'So for the time being we must make good use of what we do have.'
'And what's that?'
'This!' said the Doctor tapping Dojjen's journal. He pa.s.sed it to Nyssa.
'Here, try it.'
Nyssa took the diary and started to read it, reluctantly at first, then with increasing interest. The Doctor sat waiting patiently.
Time pa.s.sed.
Eventually Nyssa looked up. 'It's fascinating, Doctor. But does it help us?'
The Doctor rose and began pacing about the cell. 'That journal is a record of a journey. A private, mental journey. Dojjen must have discovered something that finally decided him.'
'But to do with what?'
The Doctor shrugged. 'The Mara, the history of this planet, the origins of the crystals . . .'
Suddenly a theory was forming in Nyssa's mind. 'To function as they do, the crystals must possess a perfect molecular structure, attuned to the exact wavelengths of the human mind. Doctor, the crystals are man-made. They must be!'
The Doctor stared at her. 'Yes, of course, I should have realised.' He took the crystal pendant from his pocket and studied it. 'It has to be structurally perfect, free of all flaws and distortions, even the minute distortion induced by the effects of gravity.' The Doctor's mind was racing now as he built up his theory. 'The crystals, including the Great Crystal, must have been designed by a people who had mastered the techniques of molecular engineering in a zero-gravity environment.'
'But the Ma.n.u.ssans aren't that advanced.'
'Not now - but according to Chela, this crystal is eight hundred years old.'
Nyssa said, 'If the Ma.n.u.ssans had been a people capable of sophisticated molecular engineering eight hundred years ago - their civilisation wouldn't have just vanished. There would be records, at least, probably all kinds of traces.'
'Not necessarily,' said the Doctor. 'I suspect that when they made the Great Crystal they overlooked one vital factor. The nature of the mental energy absorbed would determine the nature of the matter created.