‘And where are we, exactly?’
‘In Extremis. Which is where we’re supposed to be. Judging by the pictures at least.’ The Doctor was walking slowly round the room examining the paintings. ‘Various battles between the Anthiums and Zerugians. Think I got the timing slightly wrong, but this is definitely Castle Extremis.’
‘Greatest theme park in the cosmos?’
‘Yeah. Well, it will be. One day. Looks like we’ve arrived before it really got going. In the years before the peace treaty it was all a bit cheap and cheerful. Well, cheap and dreadful, actually. Fusion generators, advanced battle fleets, and cheap plastic dressing-up costumes.’
There was a man standing in the doorway. Martha could see him reflected in the mirror, and she turned abruptly. The man was of slight build and wearing a plain, dark suit like Martha might expect to find in a department store. His dark hair was greying slightly at the temples and thinning slightly on top. But his craggy, lined face revealed he was older than his hair suggested.
‘Can I help you?’ the man asked in a rich, deep voice.
‘Oh I do hope so,’ the Doctor said. ‘I’m sorry to turn up unannounced.’
‘You are here for the…’ the man’s voice trailed off.
‘The thing, yes. Don’t tell me we’re not on the list. Got my invite – complete with “plus one” on it and everything.’ The Doctor was brandishing his wallet with the psychic paper.
‘How come no one else will talk to us?’ Martha asked as the man examined the paper – which would show him something relevant that he expected to see.
‘Oh, a stupid rule. I suggested they do away with it for the duration of these sessions. I suggested they do away with the guides completely, come to that. But, well – tradition. That poor lad Gonfer had to write me a note saying you were here. The guides are not permitted to speak while in costume and on duty.’
‘Mickey Mouse,’ the Doctor said.
‘The Doctor and Miss Mouse,’ the man replied, nodding with interest. ‘Welcome to Castle Extremis. It is an honour to have observers from the Galactic Alliance attend the Treaty Talks.’
‘It’s Martha, actually,’ Martha explained. ‘Just ignore him.’
‘My apologies, Miss Martha Mouse.’
Martha glared at the Doctor.
‘But it is so unusual for GA observers to declare themselves,’ the man went on. ‘I knew, of course, that two observers were in attendance, monitoring the proceedings. But in the normal run of things they remain anonymous, sending their reports surreptitiously and only intervening to use their very special powers of jurisdiction and release of weapons in extreme emergencies.’
‘Well,’ the Doctor said, ‘unusual circumstances and all that. And you are?’
The man actually took a step backwards in surprise. His voice rose an octave either in shock or anger: ‘I am High Minister Defron. I am the man who brought the two sides to the negotiating table in the first place and brokered the peace.’
The Doctor grinned and clapped High Minister Defron on the shoulder. ‘Course you are,’ he said. ‘We knew that. Didn’t we know that, Martha Mouse?’
‘Yeah, like we know each other’s names,’ Martha said. ‘Isn’t that right, Doctor Donald Duck?’
‘So,’ the Doctor said as Defron led them along yet another corridor, ‘why don’t you fill us in on the way?’
The High Minister had told them he was taking them back to the negotiating chamber where they could meet the delegates from Anthium and Zerugma. ‘Fill you in?’ he asked, confused.
‘The treaty conference,’ Martha prompted. ‘How did you manage it?’
‘It’s a big deal,’ the Doctor said. ‘Must have taken some doing. We’d like to know how you see the situation. From your perspective.’
‘The press is not invited until we’re ready for the final signing ceremony,’ Defron said. ‘This isn’t a time for self-congratulation or for soundbites.’
‘Course not.’
‘Though I confess I feel the hand of history on my shoulder. What do you need to know?’
The Doctor’s eyes widened, and he shot Martha a ‘get him’ look.
‘The Doctor’s the expert,’ Martha said. ‘Maybe you can give me the background. I’m kind of new to the team.’
‘But a tremendous asset,’ the Doctor assured her. ‘Duck and Mouse – what a partnership. So whose idea was it to have the signing ceremony here at Castle Extremis?’
‘It seemed the obvious place,’ Defron said. ‘There may have been peace for twenty years, but Anthium and Zerugma are still technically at war.’
‘Until the treaty is signed, right?’ Martha said.
‘If it is signed,’ the Doctor said quietly.
‘Oh it will be signed,’ Defron assured them. ‘We are down to the fine details now.’
They passed an open door. Through it Martha could see a room in the middle of being decorated. More than that; it was being renovated, she realised. An ornate fireplace was in pieces on the floor, and several of the firebrand wall lights had been pulled away, trailing wires.
‘Be good when it’s finished,’ she said.
Defron shook his head. ‘I despair of those two maintenance robots sometimes,’ he said heavily. ‘Just so long as the state rooms are ready in time. The rest can wait. They’ve managed with it in this condition for long enough, as a tourist attraction. Not that it was terribly popular, that’s why they needed all those Lottery grants. Even so – who wants run-down facilities and gimmicky guides? The Galactic Alliance plan to turn the place into some sort of historical theme park after the treaty. A place the peoples of the cosmos can visit, where they can sigh at the mistakes of Anthium and Zerugma, and learn from their reconciliation.’ He shook his head sadly.
‘It’ll never catch on,’ the Doctor agreed. ‘The Galactic Alliance is a neutral body, bit like the United Nations,’ he went on quietly to Martha. ‘They have control of the castle now.’
‘Why?’ she whispered back.
‘Because whoever controls Castle Extremis controls the whole region. It’s right slap-bang in the middle of the only safe route through this area. So give it to a neutral power and occupy it with a peacekeeping force and – fingers crossed…’
‘Peace treaty?’
He nodded. ‘The castle is at the head of the Sarandon Passage. Anthium one side of the divide, Zerugma the other. If either side wants to rule over its neighbour, it has to control Castle Extremis. The treaty is to formalise the peace, and officially hand over Extremis to the GA.’
‘So they can make it into a theme park?’
‘That’s right. What a plan, eh? Just think of what could have happened if North and South Korea had decided to ditch their weapons programmes and buy Alton Towers instead. The soldiers of the Ninth Legion could have slept safely on their bunks if only Hadrian had opened his wall to tourists and charged a modest fee to walk along it and sketch pictures.’
‘You reckon?’
The Doctor sucked air through his teeth and considered. ‘Well, maybe. History is all about maybes.’
There were sentries outside the double doors at the end of the passage. Their armour looked more streamlined and modern than the costume – or the real thing – that Martha had seen. It was like a cross between modern combat gear and the sort of padding worn for American Football. The two men snapped to attention as Defron approached. He ignored them and strode into the room.
‘I am pleased to announce that the GA Observation Team has arrived,’ he said, and gestured for the Doctor and Martha to enter.
‘Hi,’ the Doctor said amiably.
Martha raised a hand in greeting. She didn’t say anything, because she was too busy looking at the people sitting round the horseshoe-shaped conference table that dominated the room.
Defron made his way to a seat at the midpoint of the crescent. There were two spare seats at one end, and Martha followed the Doctor as he headed for one of them.
‘So,’ the
Doctor said. ‘I’m the Doctor and this is Martha. Why don’t you take a quick moment to introduce yourselves, and then you can just carry on as if we’re not here. How’s that sound?’
Apart from Defron, there were four other people sitting at the table. An elderly lady with snow-white hair, a middle-aged man with broad shoulders and flint-hard eyes, and two crocodiles. A crocodile turned to look at Martha. One reptilian eye glittered, while the other was covered by a black patch. The ends of a livid white scar emerged from above and below the eyepatch. The creature’s scales glistened as it turned, catching the light, and a string of pale saliva dripped from its jaws as sharp white teeth snapped together.
The old lady spoke first. Her voice was quiet and kindly as she looked at the Doctor and Martha across the curved table.
‘I am Lady Casaubon, acting as personal representative of the President of Anthium. I am authorised to make any decision I deem necessary on his behalf.’ She had the quiet confidence of a woman who was secure in her authority. She nodded to one of the crocodiles sitting opposite her across the horseshoe of the table.
It was not the one with the eyepatch. This crocodile-man looked older. His eyes were cloudy and some of his scales were broken and ragged. His teeth and the claws at the end of his green fingers were yellowed. His voice started as a low rasp somewhere right at the back of his throat. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and guttural, but surprisingly cultured.
‘First Secretary Chekz of the Zerugian delegation. Like Lady Casaubon, I have full authority in these discussions. Like Lady Casaubon, I trust that we shall come to a sensible agreement and establish a lasting peace between our two great provinces.’
Lady Casaubon smiled and nodded appreciatively, and Chekz turned his jutting face towards the other Zerugian.
‘I am General Orlo.’ There was a brutal edge to the Zerugian’s voice. The scales round his eyepatch twitched as he spoke, his voice deeper and more abrupt than the First Secretary’s. ‘I am here to assist Secretary Chekz and to advise in particular on military and strategic matters. That is all.’ He leaned back in his chair and turned away, as if the matter was completely closed.
Defron cleared his throat politely. ‘I think the General is doing himself a disservice,’ he said. There was a low grunt from the General as Defron went on: ‘General Orlo, as well as being Supreme Commander of the Zerugian Forces and a veteran of the unfortunate Tenth Conflict, is also a noted historian. He brings welcome context to these negotiations.’
‘Good for you,’ the Doctor declared, and clapped his hands several times. When no one else joined in, he shrugged and tipped back on his chair. ‘Ignore me. That’s fine.’
Lady Casaubon cleared her throat. ‘General Orlo has also been good enough to furnish these discussions – quite literally to furnish Castle Extremis – with a quite splendid gift.’ She turned towards Orlo, who was inspecting the ends of his claws as if the discussions were about someone else, someone he didn’t really like.
‘What gift is that?’ Martha found herself asking. The General didn’t look like the sort who’d turn up to the party with lavish presents wrapped in pink ribbon.
‘As you know, we are restoring Castle Extremis to its former glory,’ Defron said. ‘One of the great treasures of the castle was the legendary Mortal Mirror. General Orlo has donated the most exquisite copy, which you probably saw in the Great Hall.’
Martha did remember the mirror. ‘Yeah. Good stuff. Impressive.’
The Doctor sniffed. ‘What happened to the original?’
The man beside Lady Casaubon answered. His lip curled slightly and his voice was heavy with sarcasm. ‘It was lost, apparently destroyed, in the third Zerugian occupation. So I suppose it’s only fair they provide a replacement.’
Orlo glared at the man, nostrils widening as a hint of steam emerged from them. ‘There are other legends, other stories. Some say that after the Imprisonment, Governor Pennard had the mirror smashed to pieces.’
‘And in so doing brought bad luck on Anthium and precipitated the Third Occupation,’ the man said. ‘I’m sure you’re right. It all sounds very plausible to me.’ He smiled suddenly, though his eyes remained hard and cold. ‘Perhaps we should get Professor Thorodin back in to give us his opinion. Or perhaps not,’ he added, feigning a yawn. ‘We’d be here all night.’
‘Professor Millan Thorodin?’ the Doctor said.
Defron nodded. ‘Noted expert on the Conflicts, and of course the legends of the Mortal Mirror. You know him?’
The Doctor shook his head. ‘Never heard of him. Lucky guess.’
The man with the flint-hard eyes laughed.
‘And I didn’t catch your name?’ the Doctor said to him.
‘Stellman.’
‘Just Stellman?’ Martha asked.
The man shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘I am not an aristocrat. Merely a humble citizen. So yes, just Stellman.’
‘Stellman is my aide and adviser,’ Lady Casaubon said. She sounded slightly apologetic. ‘Though it seems that once again I must advise him – to keep his sarcasm and what passes for humour in check and show due respect.’
Stellman bowed his head. ‘I consider myself so advised, My Lady,’ he said contritely. ‘Apologies, General. No offence.’
General Orlo did not reply.
‘We-ell,’ the Doctor said eventually in the silence that followed. ‘I can see you all have lots to talk about and we don’t want to slow you down. So if it’s no problem we’ll leave you to it for the moment and have a mooch round.’
Defron frowned. ‘Mooch round?’
‘Explore,’ the Doctor explained, leaping to his feet. ‘Go for a look-see, have a wander, take a gander. You know. We’ll pop back and see how you’re doing later.’
‘Gonfer is preparing accommodation for you,’ Defron said. ‘I’ll signal him to show you round.’
‘Is he the silent monk?’ Martha wondered.
‘When he isn’t a rather unconvincing Zerugian or a palace guard,’ Stellman said.
‘And he’s not allowed to talk?’ the Doctor asked.
‘Correct,’ Defron confirmed.
‘Going to be some tour,’ Martha said.
The monk met them in the corridor.
‘Gonfer?’ the Doctor asked.
The monk nodded, hood bowing forwards. Even when he straightened up again his face was hidden in shadow.
‘That’s good,’ the Doctor went on. ‘Thought I’d better check. After all, you’ve been Gonfer a while.’ He sighed as he caught Martha’s expression. ‘Well, maybe not.’
Gonfer showed the Doctor and Martha to their rooms. It was hard to tell if he was surprised that they just glanced inside and had no luggage to leave.
‘Nice,’ the Doctor said, from the doorway of his room. ‘Very nice. Now, what about that tour Defron promised us?’
It was a rather strange tour, their guide not saying a word and responding to their questions with just a nod or shake of the head. Or rather, of the hood as Martha couldn’t see his face at all. For the most part it was like wandering round a well-preserved but rather boring castle anywhere in Britain, Martha thought.
Until they went outside.
‘Oh my…’ Martha’s voice faded as she gazed up at the sky. ‘I didn’t – you never said… I mean…’ She turned to the Doctor. ‘We’re in space.’
‘Well, yes. I told you – guarding the Sarandon Passage.’
‘Those of us who didn’t take Galactic Geography and didn’t realise this is all some sort of special space-stone and not whatever they usually build castles out of might have thought that was just like a valley or a mountain pass or something.’
‘Might they?’ The Doctor considered this. ‘Might they really?’
‘Yes. Really.’
‘It’s not.’
‘I can see that now, thanks. I just – well, some sort of warning that we’re floating through space might have helped.’
‘Not floating,’ the Doctor told h
er. ‘Not really. Well, not as such. And it’s built of stone because it used to be a monastery,’ he added. As if that made more sense.
But Martha wasn’t really listening. She was staring out across the courtyard. Above the battlements of the castle, a red and orange nebula spun slowly and majestically. Stars burned and asteroids hung impossibly close.
‘Force field?’ she said quietly. ‘Keeping the air in?’
‘Semi-permeable bubble,’ the Doctor said. ‘It keeps the atmosphere in, and only lets ships enter if they’re going at less than three micro-spegs. Anything faster – like a missile, say – and: Bang!’ he mimed an explosion by clapping and separating his hands. He made the noises too.
‘So we’re not going to suffocate or spin off into space then?’
‘Doubt it.’
Martha smiled. ‘Just checking.’
‘Getting out is a bit easier – you can go faster and just stretch the bubble till you burst out. Concave rather than convex, you see.’ He curled his hand to show her. ‘Or is it the other way round? Never can remember. Still, doesn’t matter.’ The Doctor put his arm round Martha’s shoulder and pointed at a glowing blue star that looked close enough to reach out and touch. ‘That’s Plastiocron. Beyond it – that pale shimmer you can just see – is the Colondian Rift.’
The monk – Gonfer was nodding and pointing too.
‘The Aranning Nebula,’ the Doctor agreed. ‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’
It was a shame to go back indoors, but eventually Gonfer led the Doctor and Martha across the courtyard and back into the castle through another door. Above them, on the battlements, Martha could see men in the same armour as those outside the conference room. Looking out into space, keeping watch.
She glanced back the way they had come, treating herself to one last look at the incredible view. A shadow moved, right in the middle of the courtyard. It darted suddenly to a darker patch where the starlight was shadowed by one of the huge towers rising up above them. Martha watched for a few moments, but saw nothing more. Just a shadow. A trick of the light. Nothing.
Martha in the Mirror Page 2