The Coming of the Teraphiles

by Michael Moorcock

  to talk to Amy alone, so he rose and made his excuses. He

  strolled over to the bar and was caught just as he reached it

  by Mrs Banning-Cannon who let him know she was pleased

  to hear he was well.

  Amy, to tell the truth, found Bingo's attentions relaxing.

  She told herself off for leading him on, but then told herself

  again that he would have remained there talking to her no

  matter what she said, unless it was a straight bit of rudeness

  from her.

  'Looking forward to the bleachers tomorrow, old thing?'

  he asked, when he came back to their seats with her half-

  shant and his full one. 'I thought I'd put you out there, given

  your spiffin' performance today.'

  'Oh, come on, Bingo, there was nothing for me to do,' she

  said, grinning. 'I caught and returned four shafts which my

  dog Spot could have retrieved if they were Frisbees.'

  'Oh, no,' he said seriously. 'You're a natural. I'm not the

  only one who thinks it.'

  She was glad when Flapper turned up with Hari Agincourt

  in tow. Hari had been hard to pull away from his admirers.

  He sat down with a weary thump and sipped his shant.

  'Phew! That's better.'

  They waited patiently for the earth-tremor to come and go

  as it usually did at about this time by the pub clock. Outside

  the rain bucketed down. By now they knew it would last

  about half an hour. Most of the other players groaned, but

  Amy said she found it quite soothing. 'It always reminds me

  of home,' she said. 'When I was a little girl.'

  'Have you popped the question formally, yet?' asked

  Bingo of Hari, not sure how the notion had come into his

  head at that point.

  'Um,' said Hari. 'Well, no. I know you told me it was OK

  with old man Banning-Cannon, but every time I start to ask

  him, Mrs B-C turns up with her wonderful imitation of a

  basilisk and transforms me pretty much to stone. Flapper

  tells me I'm going to have to get used to handling her, if

  we're to spend the rest of our lives together and all that, and

  I know it's jolly yellow of me, but so far I've got no closer to

  the important action than quacking like a duck...'

  'A pretty feeble duck at that,' declared the Last of the

  Banning-Cannons, not without an edge of rancour to her

  dulcet tone as she gave Hari's arm something of a confusing

  squeeze. Mrs B-C had her back to them, still deep in

  conversation with the Doctor. 'But I suppose you're correct

  about after the game being the right moment. Assuming we

  win, of course.'

  'As we must,' said Bingo.

  'Quite,' said Flapper and examined a naked left finger

  rather pointedly.

  Amy wasn't sure she liked the direction of the conversation

  but that wasn't what was making her uncomfortable. Looking

  up, she noticed someone at the bar. Captain Abberley was

  staring at her through the glass bottom of his shant. When he

  saw her looking back he gave a slight bow. There were sides,

  she decided, to the big, bluff Chaos Engineer.

  What on earth did he really want from them? she wondered.

  The Doctor had agreed with her that he had a clear but so far

  unstated reason for being here. Perhaps he had not wished

  to risk his own ship by bringing it in so close to the galactic

  Hub? Perhaps he was moving through the Shifter orbit in

  the hope of reaching a particular scale where he expected to

  find something? Was he, too, looking for the Silver Arrow of

  Artemis? Did he mean to steal it if it ever turned up? She still

  had half an idea that it was already gone from Mrs Banning-

  Cannon's portable vault and that the theft of the hat had been

  nothing more than a cover-up.

  As the pub shook and jingled, the customers were

  interrupted in their sing-song - ' He was a patient she kept in a

  can and she was a healer with feet out of line' - so full of triple and quadruple entendres that Amy was completely lost before

  the first verse was over.

  She was relieved when the singers were drowned out by

  a bestial roar from the sky outside, tempting her to jump up

  and go to the window. Overhead was ragged with racing

  blackness recalling the dark tides Amy had seen during the

  storms. Tides now rimmed with deep, glowing blue, the

  exact colour of the old medicine bottles she had collected for

  a while as a teenager. Then it felt as if the sides of the pub

  were repeatedly kicked by a gigantic boot, except nothing

  was damaged. The strange lack of accompanying sensation

  made her, if anything, more frightened than earlier. She

  was glad when the shift ended even if the sun did suddenly

  rise again, in all its original glory, making the rain on the

  windows sparkle like glass beads.

  She looked back towards the bar, directly into the eyes of

  Captain Abberley. He smiled, not unpleasantly, and gestured

  to her to join him.

  'I'll be back in a minute,' she told her friends.

  Next morning by the clock, for there was no other way at the

  moment of measuring time on Flynn, the game continued.

  While the sky swept from dark grey to scarlet and the ground

  shook and squirmed, the Gentlemen again took their turn

  at the wotsit, and those old rivals continued to play what

  was in so many ways the game of their lives. The Gentlemen

  stayed ahead for most of the day but at teatime their luck

  changed drastically and they lost four whackers to Grimtok,

  the Visitors' number five archer. He was an elegant centaur,

  rather finely built, with large blue eyes and a palomino coat,

  another favourite with the ladies. Somehow the day, with its

  brilliant, unfamiliar colours, had invigorated him and he was

  at the top of his game.

  Bingo Lockesley, as captain, was kicking himself. He

  knew he had made a bad judgement. Once he had seen the

  first two whackers go down so speedily he should have put

  a better whacker in to play against Grimtok. As it was, there

  would now be some important strategy required of him. By

  lunchtime, he had come to a decision and, as soon as tea was

  over, he put in W.G. Grace, who had been itching to play. With

  her huge, glistening beard she made a picturesque, as well as

  a confident, antagonist. Her confidence was not unfounded.

  Within twenty minutes of taking up her whacking bat she had

  sailed a beautiful arrow to Amy who sent it back to Flapper

  in wotsit who tucked it neatly into the Visitors' target as

  Grimtok galloped triumphantly around the 'stand', coming

  to a sudden stop as, open-mouthed, he heard the unexpected

  'Howzaf...

  And then the sun went out.

  *

  The pavilion's floodlights came on automatically as Grimtok

  cantered slowly back, while Amy and Flapper did their best

  to maintain their gravitas when what they really wanted to

  do was hug each other and jump up and down in celebration

  of their own unexpected success. With the centaur's run of

  luck over, the Gentlemen and the Visitors found themselves

 
more or less level pegging.

  The sun eventually appeared in the sky, but now there

  was no point in continuing until the next day. Back in the

  pavilion, and later the pub, Amy and Flapper were feted

  by their fellow team-members. Though they protested that

  Grimtok had been unlucky, and everyone privately knew

  that it was more to do with the fact that the centaur had been

  playing on better form than he had ever demonstrated before,

  there was still good reason for congratulations given that

  until a short while earlier both women had been amateurs.

  The Doctor was the most enthusiastic of all, not counting

  Bingo, of course, who was ecstatic both as team captain and

  as suitor.

  Amy felt more than a little overwhelmed by the attention

  she was receiving, so when Mrs Banning-Cannon burst into

  the pub wearing not only a triumphant smile but also a large,

  somewhat battered hat, she was relieved.

  'Where did you get that hat?' she asked.

  'Where did you get that tile?' asked the Doctor.

  'Isn't it a lovely one?' Grimtok said, squinting through the

  mist which was now curling through the air of the pub like

  smoke.

  'It's no longer in style,' said Mrs Banning-Cannon firmly.

  'That's not the reason, of course, that I'm wearing it.'

  'No!' The Doctor slipped from his barstool. 'You found it!'

  'Actually, Doctor, I found the thief.' Mrs Banning-Cannon

  removed the huge, if dishevelled, piece of creative millinery

  work and floated it carelessly to the bar. 'With the hat.'

  She whirled dramatically, her finger pointed at the young

  man who had followed her through the door.

  'There he is! Our snake in the grass. The viper we have

  been holding to our bosom. The tie in the ointment.'

  'I swear, Mrs Banning-Cannon, that the only reason I was

  there was because - because I-I-I...' Hari Agincourt was

  giving an impression of a dog whose paw-prints had been

  discovered on the best bedspread.

  'Don't stand there addressing me like some stammering

  sailor, sir,' hissed the furious matron. 'I caught you red-

  handed!' She took a step towards him.

  Hari flinched. 'Honestly, the only reason I was outside

  your door was because I couldn't find you. I was about to

  knock when—'

  'Liar! You were leaving our apartments where you had

  left the hat in the hope that you would not be discovered

  with it.'

  'Hang on.' The Doctor shook his head, puzzled. 'You have

  your hat back, Mrs Banning-Cannon?'

  'Not that the hat is any longer of the slightest importance.

  Catching the thief, however, still remains an issue. Or did

  before I caught him.'

  'That wasn't why I was there!' Hari declared desperately.

  'What other reason would you have for being there?'

  'I had come, you bullying old bat, to ask for your daughter

  Jane's hand in marriage!' Hari stopped himself, frowning. He

  wondered if he had phrased his reply quite as diplomatically

  as he might have done. 'I mean...'

  But Flapper had thrown herself into his arms. Although

  she did not say the words 'My hero!' it was pretty clear that's

  what she was thinking.

  And for once in her long life in the metaphorical driving

  seat, the heir to the Tarbutton zillions was at a loss for

  speech.

  At this happy point, Mr Banning-Cannon entered the

  pub, his hand firmly holding the tailored collar of a lady's

  smart royal blue two-piece containing a struggling woman

  with tightly permed and blonded hair whom the Doctor

  immediately recognised.

  'Why, Lady Peggy,' he said, 'I'd been wondering if you'd

  turn up in plain view, as it were, with the light altering so

  rapidly and unexpectedly all the time. This, ladies, gentlemen

  and others, is my old antagonist Lady Peggy Steele, the

  Invisible Thief. Logic's been pointing her unwavering finger

  at you for quite some while, Lady Peg. I'm so glad you decided

  to do the right thing and return Mrs Banning-Cannon's hat.

  Mm. Nice perfume.'

  Enola Banning-Cannon, however, was gaping at Hari

  Agincourt and her daughter. 'Did you say "marriage"?' she

  asked.

  'I did,' said Hari.

  'I forbid it absolutely,' pronounced the second-to-last of

  the Banning-Cannons, and, with the proud air of a freshly

  launched battleship eager for business, she swept from the

  saloon bar.

  'Actually,' murmured the Doctor from his comer of the

  bar. 'Amy put the hat there at my request. I finally caught up

  with Lady Peggy after searching for her for years. I guessed

  she had to be here somewhere. But I'm afraid she only stole

  the hat for the second time.'

  'Then who took it the first time?' Flapper wanted to

  know.

  'I've no idea, I'm afraid. Well, I have a suspicion...'

  'And why did she pinch it?' asked Mr Banning-Cannon,

  who was rather beginning to warm towards Lady Peggy.

  Apologetically he released her collar. Lady Peggy shrugged

  her jacket back into shape, tugged at its bottom, and at once

  recovered her dignity. She took her handbag off her arm,

  opened it, removed a pink compact and added some powder

  to her nose and cheeks.

  'Because I was convinced that damned arrow was hidden

  in it,' she announced. 'It smelled of the thing. Appears I

  made a mistake. Threw me off, I can tell you. I'm hardly ever

  wrong.'

  'How much was Frank/Freddie Force going to give you

  for it?' the Doctor asked, staring at a poster of a picnic on

  Flynn.

  'We hadn't agreed an exact price,' she replied glaring at

  Mr Banning-Cannon.

  'So where is it now?' the Doctor asked.

  'Wherever you hid it, Doctor.' Peggy patted the back of

  her hairdo reassuringly.

  'I didn't exactly hide it,' he said. 'But we should find that

  out in good time, I'm sure.'

  Chapter 24

  The Filling Skies

  POM'IK'IK WAS PROVING A pretty steady player and hard to budge.

  Even Hari's expert shooting couldn't faze him, and it was

  a bit of a disaster to see Hari go down for 8 thanks to Kali-

  Kali's beautiful catch at right quarter. Sum'in, the Cairene

  Dodger, took the whacker by eleven o'clock with W.G. Grace

  being put in just after lunch. They were 42 to the Visitors' 87

  and it looked all up for the Gents until Grace brought out her

  treasured bow which looked like a Sumatan 50x to Bingo,

  though it was almost certainly modified. The Doctor also

  admired the antique bow. He could see why she had been so

  fussy about protecting it on the journey here. Placing one end

  against her foot, she showed her great strength as she bent

  it forward to string it, then walked with steady confidence

  onto the pitch, her hand raised to acknowledge her many

  fans cheering from the bleachers.

  Just as W.G. reached the wotsit, the glowing sun went

  down with a faint sighing sound, a hard rain fell for a few

  moments and then stopped. Tree
s swayed along the horizon

  like a funeral procession in the deep purple haze. Rays of

  white-yellow light, like pillars they seemed so solid, spread

  from behind the trees and telescoped down to make way for

  Miggea again, pushing the black and silver globe high into

  the air and causing a horrible round of sickness in everyone

  but the Judoon, who had anticipated the phenomenon and

  taken pills for it.

  Ignoring all this, Grace put arrow after arrow into

  whackers, wotsits and wotsit keepers, slowly bringing the

  score up to something the Gentlemen could live with. By the

  end of play, Grace was not out and the score was 89 to the

  Visitors' 90: they had been awarded extra points after the

  umpires' decisions on a split arrow and an offside catch.

  It was clear to all that the next day's match would be the

  crucial one, assuming there was anything resembling a next

  day as the Shifter moved through the multiverse bringing

  incredibly good displays of lights, moving trees and 'jupiter

  bushes' of primal energy which everyone did their best to

  avoid.

  Then came a massive throbbing from what seemed the

  core of the planet's being. The sun began to sing a wild song

  that sent out ripples of music, visible in the air they breathed.

  The mere act of breathing caused them to absorb some of

  the notes until at last virtually every living creature on the

  planet was adding its song to the complex harmonies and

  the sky was full of planets - planet after planet stretching

  into infinity, sun into sun folding one into another, larger

  and larger and at the same time smaller and smaller. They

  watched a vast stretch of green-white curd curl around a

  comer and disappear. The Doctor began cheering, his arms

  around Amy. He came close to kissing the Team Captain

  because he recognised the tentacle for what it was.

  'We've made it,' he said. 'We're in the Second Aether.

  That's Squid Mammy's Spill and - look!' He danced along

  the pavilion's deck, pointing. From out of the green-white

  tentacle emerged a tidy little steamboat, her paddles churning

  against the splashing colour, her captain in his wheelhouse

  booming out a song:

  We're Rolling, Rolling, to the Roogalator Rhumba,

  We're dancing to the doom of the dumble dram Samba!

  How's the music doing down there, Mr Cappybera.

  Fill up the converters and let's boogy with the thunder.