The Doctor tentatively tried one of the doors, but it refused to open. He listened at the keyhole, and could hear sounds of movement from inside. So he put his eye to the small hole and peered through. The room beyond was dark, and he could see nothing but shadows.
He moved on to the next door, and was about to repeat the process there, when the flickering half-light suddenly flared up into brilliant luminance. The Doctor stifled a cry and leapt for the nearest cover, which seemed to be an alcove. In fact, there was a door in it, and as the Doctor jumped in front of it, the door began to swing open.
The Doctor’s head cracked painfully against the stone wall as he was knocked back by the door. He managed to stay upright and hidden behind the door as it opened to its full extent. Through the crack between door and wall he watched as a line of guards marched through. They split into two groups, one going each way along the corridor. The Doctor listened to the sounds of the guards’ progress – heavy boots on stone, and the rattling and chinking of keys.
Swinging the door slowly back, the Doctor emerged from his concealment and edged his way to the corridor. He looked carefully round the corner. At the far end of the corridor, a guard was unlocking the last of the doors. The Doctor strained to hear what the man said as he swung the door open. But he could not make out the exchange of comments. After a moment, the guard laughed and then continued down the corridor, disappearing round the corner.
Weighing up his options the Doctor looked both ways along the corridor, then returned to the door the guards had emerged from. Beyond it was a sort of hallway with several more doors leading off it. There was an archway that seemed to lead back towards the main doors and the better-furnished areas beyond, and another that gave into another, darker passageway. There was also one more heavy wooden door. It looked similar to the doors the guards had been unlocking in the corridor, except that it was braced with heavy strips of rusty metal.
The door was ajar, and as the Doctor watched it was pushed open. He stepped back into the shadows, or what shadows were left now that the lights were fully on, as two men emerged from the room. The first man was a guard dressed in the same lightweight battle armour as all the others. The second man wore a long faded robe. His face was heavily lined and the Doctor guessed he looked older than he really was. He wore a short white beard that was perfectly trimmed.
As the Doctor watched, the guard locked the door behind them.
‘Afraid that I might break in?’ the robed man asked.
‘Procedure, sir,’ the guard replied. ‘Everything here follows procedure – you know that better than I.’
‘Indeed.’ The man sounded bored and resigned. ‘So, let us proceed ourselves.’
When they were almost out of sight down the passageway, the Doctor followed. They passed several doors and alcoves and another corridor that intersected at right angles. Eventually, the two figures stopped outside another heavy, metal-bound door. The guard unlocked it.
The Doctor edged closer, curious, as the guard then knocked on the door, and waited a while before opening it. He stood deferentially aside, and allowed the bearded man to enter. The Doctor could just see the man stop on the threshold, and bow. Then the guard shut the door behind him, and locked it again.
After the guard had gone, the Doctor stepped out of his alcove and crossed to the door. He listened, but could hear almost nothing through its thick frame. He peered through the keyhole, but there was something obstructing his view on the other side. Or perhaps the keyhole did not penetrate the whole way through the door. That would certainly make the lock more difficult to pick from the inside.
The Doctor clasped his hands, pressing the ups of his fingers together as he thought. After a moment, he pulled a cylindrical metal device from his inside pocket – his new sonic screwdriver. He made several adjustments to the control settings, then held it close to the keyhole. Nothing happened, and he frowned. He held the sonic screwdriver up to the light, banged it on his palm as if knocking out a recalcitrant pipe, then tried again. Still nothing.
With a sigh, the Doctor adjusted the setting. Perhaps he had still not quite got all the gremlins out. When he tried again, he could just hear the sonic pulses as they worked on the barrel mechanism of the lock, but he knew they would be out of the range of hearing of almost any other humanoid species. He smiled in satisfaction. As he suspected, there was a strong sonic signal on the same frequency as he had first tried – probably a subspace emission of some sort. It had interfered with the screwdriver’s function. But a slight adjustment to the frequency and everything was hunky dory.
Sure enough, after a few moments there was a metallic scraping sound, and the lock turned over. The Doctor smiled to himself, pocketed the sonic screwdriver, and pushed the door open.
There were two figures seated in the room in front of him. They were either side of a low table in the far corner. One was the man with the white beard he had seen enter. The other had his back to the Doctor.
The man with the beard was already leaping to his feet. ‘What the deuce – how did you –’ He stepped forward, eyes glittering with menace. ‘I’m sorry, my Lord,’ he said to the seated figure. ‘There is a disturbance.’
The Doctor took a step into the room. ‘A disturbance? Oh, I do beg your pardon,’ he said, ‘I don’t wish to intrude.’
‘You do intrude,’ the man snapped back.
‘So I do,’ the Doctor said with a grin. He scampered over to the table. ‘But I love a good game of chess.’ He examined the board in front of him. ‘White to win in eight moves,’ he murmured. ‘Very good. Very good indeed.’
Then he looked at the figure still seated at the table, and the smile froze on his face.
‘You play chess?’ the figure asked. Its face was a burnished mask of shining metal, apparently riveted to the head. The eyes were recessed screens of dark plastic, the nose a slight bulge in the metal ‘face’. The mouth was a mesh-covered slit, from which its voice emerged as a metallic scrape, as if the turning lock had learned to speak.
‘Yes,’ the Doctor said as he took in the sight. He coughed to mask his awkwardness. ‘Yes, a little.’
‘More than a little, I think.’ The masked man turned slightly. ‘Perhaps we shall have a new player join us in our humble surroundings, Cruger.’
The bearded man sat down again. ‘Perhaps, my Lord,’ he said quietly. He looked at the Doctor, his eyes narrowing as he asked, ‘Mate in eight moves, you say?’
The Doctor shrugged. ‘It’s possible in seven. But I think eight, yes.’
‘Tell me one thing,’ the artificial voice rasped close to the Doctor’s ear.
He turned to see that the man in the mask had risen and was standing beside him. ‘If I can.’
The impassive face was inches from his own, reflecting the Doctor’s features back at him as if in a distorting glass. ‘Why did you kill Remas?’
CHAPTER FOUR
KNIGHT’S TOUR
TRAYX BARELY PAUSED to knock on the door. He threw it open even before he heard the call of ‘Enter’ from inside. He knew it was rude and would be seen – by Cruger at least – as an act of arrogance. But he also knew that, despite what his instincts told him, speed might be vital.
He saw as soon as the door swung open that he need not have worried. Close by Trayx’s arm, Prion stepped forward. The ADC was raising his right arm, but Trayx lifted his finger. The slight gesture was enough, and Prion’s hand dropped back to his side.
All three of the people in the room were seated round a chessboard. Cruger’s features were set in a study of concentration as he moved a single piece across the board. The feelings of the man opposite him were as ever obscured by his mask. Between them sat the Doctor. The index finger of his right hand was pressed up into the soft part of his cheek, the pressure sending ripples right across the side of his face as he watched Cruger’s hand on the board.
‘Only Milton Trayx knocks in that peculiarly dramatic manner.’ The masked man did not turn as h
e spoke, but continued to study the board.
‘I apologise for the intrusion, my Lord.’ Trayx crossed the room and stared down at the activity on the board. Cruger moved the chess piece – a knight – again. The Doctor was nodding enthusiastically.
‘You have come,’ the masked man said, ‘for the Doctor, I presume.’
‘Indeed, my Lord. But it appears there is no urgency.’
Now the man did look up, and as ever Trayx was unsettled by the non-stare with which he was fixed. ‘None at all. He is proving an interesting conversationalist and has a shrewd grasp of chess.’ The mask angled slightly, catching the light from a nearby lamp within the plastic shield over one eye so that it seemed to twinkle with amusement. ‘He might even be a match for you, General.’
‘We must have a game.’ Trayx kept his voice level. ‘Perhaps even a tournament if we have sufficient takers.’
The masked laugh was a rasp of static from the grille-mouth. ‘I don’t think the result would surprise any of us, except perhaps the Doctor. I play you only to remind myself of my new-found humility, Trayx. And Cruger has long since given up playing you at all.’
Trayx glanced at Cruger. He was tempted to suggest that Cruger’s problem was his total lack of humility. But he doubted the man was listening, or that the comment would achieve anything.
‘I think the problem,’ the Doctor said suddenly without looking up, ‘stems from that seventh move.’
Cruger’s hand hesitated on the knight. His eyes were darting to and fro across the board, searching for the next move. Then he gave a grunt of displeasure and let go of the piece so forcefully that it toppled over.
‘How do you know my name?’ the Doctor asked, looking up at Trayx at last. His eyes were a piercing green. Or was it blue?
Trayx blinked, startled by the intelligence peeping from within the eyes, by the force of the stare. ‘From your friends,’ he said, and nodded to Mithrael, who was standing in the doorway.
The Doctor leapt to his feet as soon as Mithrael stood aside to let Jamie and Victoria enter the room. He rushed over to his companions, shaking each suddenly and vigorously by the hand. ‘There you are. I’m so pleased. How are you both?’
‘We’re fine,’ Jamie said sullenly.
‘They asked us lots of questions, Doctor,’ Victoria added.
The Doctor whirled round, staring at Trayx once again. ‘We didn’t kill that man, you know.’
‘I know. And we only asked them questions. I had to be sure you were not –’ Trayx broke off, considered his words. ‘That you were guests and not intruders here.’
‘Guests?’ The Doctor was suddenly smiling, rubbing his hands together. ‘How kind. You know, I’m famished.’
Trayx smiled despite himself. ‘Yes, so am I.’ He turned to Prion. ‘I don’t care what time of day they think it is here, I want some dinner.’ He turned to Mithrael. ‘With your permission, warden.’ He did not wait for a response. ‘Our guests will join us.’
Prion nodded, and departed without a word.
‘Oh good.’ The Doctor was back at the chessboard now. ‘Have you eaten?’ he asked the two seated figures.
Cruger grunted, saying nothing. The man in the mask answered, ‘I don’t think the invitation extends to us, Doctor.’
‘Sadly not,’ Trayx said quickly. ‘Though we shall talk. About many things.’ He clapped his hand on the masked man’s shoulder so hard that the clunk of his glove on the metal beneath the man’s cloak echoed round the room. ‘We shall talk of battles lost and won, of chess and fine wine.’
‘And, perhaps, of why you are here.’
Trayx sighed. ‘Yes. Of that too.’ He turned to find the young man, Jamie, standing beside him, peering down at the board.
‘What are you doing, Doctor?’ he asked. His voice was accented, Trayx noticed. Perhaps he was from one of the outlying colonies.
‘Oh just a simple chess problem, Jamie.’
‘Simple?’ Cruger shook his head.
‘Chess?’ asked Jamie.
‘Jamie!’ The Doctor was suddenly beside the young man, arm round his shoulder in sympathy. ‘You don’t know what chess is?’ He beckoned to the woman. ‘Victoria, explain to Jamie about chess, will you?’
‘Of course, Doctor,’ the young woman said. ‘But I don’t think I know this version. There’s only one piece.’
The Doctor looked back at the board, empty apart from the single fallen knight.
‘Nor I, Doctor,’ Trayx admitted. ‘You mentioned a puzzle.’
‘Yes, indeed.’ The Doctor allowed Trayx to steer him towards the door. ‘It’s called the Knight’s Tour.’
‘I’ve not heard of it.’
They were out in the corridor now. Behind him, Trayx could hear Victoria trying to explain the rules and concepts of chess to the boy. It did not sound as if he was a quick learner.
‘Well,’ the Doctor went on, ‘the idea is to move the knight from its starting place on the board to every other square in turn. The order does not matter, but you must cover every square once and once only using moves that are valid for the knight.’
Trayx nodded. ‘Sixty-four different squares in sixty-four moves.’ No, that wasn’t right. ‘Sixty-three moves,’ he corrected himself, ‘since the knight starts on its own square. I must ask Prion how many solutions there are.’
‘There are three,’ the Doctor said. ‘But there is a variation in which the knight’s last move, its sixty-fourth move, must return it to the square from which it started.’
Trayx stopped, beckoning Mithrael to join them. ‘My guess is that there is but one solution to that problem. And I think you must know the answer.’
‘What are problems for, if not to be solved?’
Trayx smiled. ‘To confound your enemies,’ he said. Then he turned to Mithrael. ‘See that the Doctor and his companions are given rooms.’ He saw the beginnings of a smile on Mithrael’s lips, and added, ‘In the guest quarters, not the Secure Area.’ The smile died. ‘They will join us for dinner in an hour.’
‘Thank you.’ There was an undercurrent of genuine gratitude in the Doctor’s voice.
‘We’ll talk more at dinner, Doctor,’ Trayx said. ‘I think that we each owe the other several explanations.’
There were three rooms, in a triangular arrangement with interconnecting doors. While they were in the better-furnished area of the castle, the walls were bare stone and the flagstone floors mitigated only by thin rugs thrown across them. Each room had a door that gave out into a corridor that ran round the suite, as well as an internal door to a small en suite bathroom. With the interconnecting doors open, it was possible to position oneself in one of the rooms and see into both the others.
Jamie was slumped on the hard bed in his room. Victoria sat at a heavy wooden desk in the corner of the same room. Each of them watched as the Doctor flitted between all three of the chambers. He prodded at areas of the wall, and he examined the floors. He ahhed at the tapestry that hung on the back of his door, and hmmed at the similar hanging in Victoria’s room. In Jamie’s room he got down on his hands and knees and peered under the bed. Then he went and stood in the doorway through to Victoria’s room and looked all round, frowning the while.
Jamie and Victoria exchanged bewildered looks as the Doctor waved to attract their attention, then put his finger to his lips and hissed a violent ‘shh’ at them. Neither of them had said more than a few words since they had been shown into the rooms.
The Doctor was now rummaging through his pockets. He pulled out several handkerchiefs and dumped them in a dishevelled pile on the desk beside Victoria, patting them carefully before rushing to the door and pulling at the tapestry that hung on its back. It came free with the sound of breaking threads and a sprinkling of light dust. The Doctor ignored this, and scampered across the room with the heavy material. He held it up against the wall opposite the bed, and put his ear to the wall beside it as if listening. After a moment he moved the tapestry over slightly, listened again
, and nodded with satisfaction.
‘Jamie,’ the Doctor whispered loudly.
Jamie propped himself up on his elbow, unsure whether he was supposed to answer out loud.
‘Over here, quickly.’ The Doctor was almost jumping up and down with impatience as Jamie pulled himself off the bed. ‘Come on.’ Only the heavy tapestry hampered his movements. He was trying to hold it against the wall, but was too short to reach up where he wanted it. Before Jamie reached him, the top of the embroidered canvas slipped away from the wall and fell over the Doctor’s head. It sent up a cloud of dust, and from beneath came the muffled sounds of the Doctor sneezing frantically.
Jamie pulled the canvas from the Doctor and pushed it back up the wall again.
‘Ah, thank you, Jamie,’ the Doctor said in a relieved, low voice. ‘Now just keep it held exactly there, will you?’ He did not wait for an answer, but ducked away beneath Jamie’s arm.
‘Hey,’ Jamie called out as the Doctor retrieved his hankies from the desk.
‘Don’t worry, Jamie.’ The Doctor sounded pleased with himself. That was always worrying, in Jamie’s experience, and his next words did nothing to alleviate the feeling. ‘Just hold it here for the moment until I think of a way of fixing it in position.’
Jamie waited as patiently as he could, doing his best to hold the heavy tapestry in place. He could feel the dust tickling his nose, wanted desperately to scratch it. Meanwhile the Doctor rushed round the room draping hankies over various parts of the furniture and floor. He tapped at points on the wall, and stuffed handkerchiefs into slight cracks in the stonework. Finally, he gestured for Victoria to stand up, dragged her chair across the room, then hefted it on to the bed.
Jamie and Victoria both watched in amazement as he climbed first on to the bed, then up on to the chair. The chair wobbled dangerously as the Doctor rocked back and forth in a desperate effort to keep his balance. It did not help that he was reaching high above his head with both hands, clutching the last hanky. The cloth was taut between his fists as he swayed precariously. Eventually, after several near disasters, he got his balance sorted. And jumped.
Doctor Who: Dreams of Empire: 50th Anniversary Edition Page 6