‘Well, I don’t really know what to make of it.’
Martha frowned. ‘Why – what is it?’
‘I will show you. It’s in my room.’
Janna knew her sister was watching her. Following her. ‘Go away,’ she shouted back down the corridor. ‘You’re dead – go away and leave me alone!’
But when she turned and ran on, she could hear her sister’s laughter echoing after her.
‘Going to hide,’ Janna said to herself. ‘Going to hide and never come out. Then you’ll have to go away.’
There were voices coming the other way, but Janna didn’t care. She turned down a side passage and cut past the kitchens. She’d go to the Great Hall and hide there. She didn’t like it so much now, didn’t feel so safe as she used to – not since…
But she hoped her sister wouldn’t find her there. They weren’t allowed in the Great Hall. It was out of bounds. And her sister was a good girl, always obeyed the rules.
When she was alive.
‘It was under the side table by the door. I think it got chipped when it fell.’
Martha took it from Stellman. It was surprisingly heavy. ‘It looks so real. It’s… unnerving isn’t it?’
‘Exquisite,’ he said. ‘Or grotesque. I’m really not sure which.’
It was a hand. The wrist was a shattered broken mess, and the end of a finger had snapped off. There were several chips out of it – where the material showed through the paint. If it was paint.
‘It’s so realistic,’ Martha said. ‘If it wasn’t damaged, you’d think it was real. It must have been cast or something, I suppose. You think the murderer left it?’
‘Dropped it maybe. Or perhaps he broke it off whatever he used to stab Chekz.’
‘Like an arm?’ Martha suggested.
‘Who can say.’ Stellman held the broken hand up and the chipped facets and the stub of the wrist caught and reflected the light. ‘But it is made of glass.’
There were various formalities that Defron insisted would have to be sorted out. They were boring procedural things like awaiting the official ratification of General Orlo as the new chief negotiator, and that would have to come from Zerugma.
Lady Casaubon and Defron were both agreed that, so long as they noted that these things needed to be addressed, they could continue to negotiate in good faith. But Orlo insisted that they adjourn discussions until every ‘t’ was crossed and every ‘i’ dotted.
‘So long as we avoid crossed eyes,’ the Doctor said brightly. Leaving them to it, he headed off to Martha’s quarters to see if she’d turned up there. She had not.
On his way back to the Great Hall to continue reading the glass diary, the Doctor nodded pleasantly to a GA soldier and gave another the thumbs-up. He made his way along the deserted passageway leading to the Great Hall, and encountered Lady Casaubon emerging from the negotiations.
‘Tell me,’ he said, ‘if there’s no one here but us and the soldiers, why were the guides still dressing up and wandering about until Defron confined them to barracks?’
Lady Casaubon laughed. ‘Defron suggested they be sent away, given a holiday or whatever. Obviously the castle had to be closed to visitors for the duration of the negotiations. Anyway, the Union objected. Said he was denying them their livelihood.’
‘But while it’s closed, there’s no one to guide,’ the Doctor said. ‘So why bother? Why weren’t they all sitting round playing Monopoly?’
‘Because Defron told the Union that if they were still being employed then they had to work their usual shifts and he’d be checking and would dismiss any who didn’t.’
The Doctor grinned. ‘Really? He’s good at this diplomacy thing, isn’t he? Didn’t the Union object to that?’
‘Of course. But Defron also said he would hear reasoned argument only from the guides themselves. And only while they were officially on duty in that capacity, not when they were merely private citizens between shifts.’
The Doctor’s grin widened. ‘And when they’re on duty the guides aren’t allowed to talk.’
‘One of them sent him a short note,’ Lady Casaubon said. ‘Defron asked him if he could clarify certain aspects of it, either verbally or in writing. One hundred and five of them.’
‘And did he?’
‘What do you think?’
‘I think Martha would have done. Maybe she’s helping him with it now. I haven’t seen her for a while. She’s always wandering off,’ the Doctor said. ‘Your Mr Stellman got the same problem, has he?’
‘Not usually. He is most attentive, so I can only imagine he is detained by some matter of importance. Or which he believes is important.’
‘You don’t share his priorities?’ the Doctor wondered.
‘Oh, at my age you appreciate there is very little that is truly important.’
‘You’re telling me,’ the Doctor said. ‘But Martha’s important. Ah, yes – should have thought of that,’ he went on as two familiar figures turned into the corridor ahead of them, just past the Great Hall. Martha and Stellman, together.
‘Doctor!’ Martha called, hurrying up to him. Where have you been?’
‘Where have I been?’
‘Stellman’s found something. I think it may be—’
‘Important? Could be. What is it?’ He turned to Stellman. ‘Show me, show me. What have you got? Fingerprint found at the scene? An unusual-looking stone? Recipe for Banana Surprise?’
‘Banana Surprise?’ Lady Casaubon said.
‘Yes, it’s great.’ Miming the actions, the Doctor explained: ‘You get a banana, right? Carefully peel it, and take out the banana. Then stuff the skin with cotton wool and sew it back up again.’
‘And that’s a Banana Surprise?’ Martha said.
‘It is for whoever tries to eat the banana. I like bananas.’ He was looking over Martha’s shoulder as he spoke. He was watching Janna slip quietly along the passageway and into the Great Hall. ‘There’s that little girl…’ he said.
As he spoke, Janna’s head appeared back round the doorway. She put her finger to her lips then disappeared again.
‘There’s that little girl,’ the Doctor said quickly, ‘who said “I know how to spell banana, but I don’t know when to stop.” Love that story.’ He grinned. ‘Never know when to stop telling it though. Sorry, what were we talking about?’
‘Bananas, apparently,’ Martha said.
‘Before that?’
Stellman held something out to them. ‘This.’
The Doctor took it. ‘A glass hand.’ He weighed it in his palm. He pretended to shake it in greeting. He examined it closely. ‘Yep, definitely glass. Where did you get it? Second hand shop?’
‘Someone left it in Chekz’s room,’ Martha said.
‘Really? Careless of them.’ He gave it back to Stellman. ‘Unhand me, sir. Here you go.’
‘You think it is not important?’ Lady Casaubon asked.
‘When you get to my age…’ the Doctor told her. ‘Who knows. Maybe. But it’s part of a puzzle and we need more of the pieces before we can see where it fits, before we can make sense of it.’ He took out the glass diary and flipped carefully, thoughtfully through the delicate pages.
‘Still no luck understanding it?’ Martha asked.
‘Oh I can read it all right. Understand it, though? That’s a toughie.’ He brandished the diary. ‘Great Hall, I think. Time to get some more puzzle pieces.’
‘Is he always like this?’ Lady Casaubon asked Martha.
Stellman and Lady Casaubon had work to do, preparing an official Anthium response to the appointment of Orlo as chief negotiator for Zerugma and expressing grief and shock at the death of First Secretary Chekz.
Martha followed the Doctor into the Great Hall where she found him looking from the side of the room to the enormous replica of the Mortal Mirror and back again.
‘What’s a mirror do?’ he asked.
‘It reflects light, so you see a – well, a mirror image reflected in it. Is that what y
ou mean?’
‘Good enough,’ he conceded.
‘So, what’s the problem?’ Martha went and stood beside him. She could see herself and the Doctor both reflected in the mirror at the other end of the room. ‘God, I look a mess.’
‘That’s just your reflection. The real you is a lot tidier.’
‘Thanks.’
Despite the banter, the Doctor was frowning. ‘So,’ he said, ‘watch me in the mirror. If I put this down on here…’ He took the glass diary and placed it on a small table at the side of the room. The table was covered with a faded velvet cloth that hung down. The Doctor squared up the diary carefully, then walked briskly back to where Martha was standing.
‘Then, from here,’ he said, ‘we should be able to see it reflected in the mirror, right?’
‘Right,’ Martha agreed, still watching the reflection. ‘And we can.’
‘Ye-es. I was afraid you’d say that.’
Martha brushed a stray strand of her hair back with her fingers. Was it her imagination, or was there a slight lag? The tiniest delay before her reflection did the same?
‘And if you keep looking at the book, the diary. Or rather, if you keep looking at its reflection…’
‘Yes, doing that.’
‘And you lower your gaze ever so slightly to look under the same table…’
‘OK.’
‘You’ll see – what?’
Martha stared. The cloth hung down low, but from where she was standing the angle was such that she could see the stone floor beneath the table and the edge of the wall behind. ‘I see the floor, the wall, that’s it. What am I supposed to see?’
‘Nothing under the table?’
She shook her head.
‘So, if you now turn to look at the real table, and not the reflection in the mirror, you’ll see quite clearly…’
The Doctor was watching Martha as she turned, as she looked under the table. As she heard the sound of a child’s barely suppressed laugh.
As Martha saw – quite clearly – that under the table was a small fair-haired girl.
Martha turned back to the mirror – nothing. ‘But, that’s impossible.’
The Doctor was smiling and nodding. ‘Isn’t it, though?’
Martha turned back, and saw Janna crawl out from under the table. She whipped round to check the mirror – the empty mirror. The mirror that did not show the small girl who was laughing and running from the room.
‘That is seriously weird,’ Martha said. The Doctor had already set off across the room, and she had to run to catch him up.
‘Only sort of weird that counts,’ the Doctor said.
‘Where are we going?’ Martha asked.
‘To find Janna.’
‘And ask her why she doesn’t show up in the mirror?’
‘Always assuming she knows,’ the Doctor agreed. ‘There are probably a fair few things we ought to be asking her. Don’t you think?’
Martha didn’t answer. She was breathless just keeping up with him as they sprinted down the corridor.
‘Oh,’ the Doctor said when he got no answer. ‘You don’t.’
He skidded to a halt at a junction. The corridor emerged into an open area with a high, vaulted ceiling. Several doors and three other passages led off from it.
‘Which way did she go?’ Martha gasped.
You try down there,’ the Doctor said, pointing along one of the passages. ‘I’ll take this one.’
Martha pointed to the third passageway. ‘What’s wrong with that one?’
‘All right, you take that one and I’ll try along there.’
‘But what if—’ Martha started.
‘OK, OK.’ The Doctor patted his pockets. ‘Coin, coin…’ he muttered.
‘We’re going to toss a coin to decide? That doesn’t seem very scientific.’
The Doctor abandoned his search for a coin. ‘True,’ he agreed. ‘You want scientific?’
Martha nodded. ‘Please.’
‘Right.’ He pointed at each of the three possible passages in turn, intoning: ‘Dip red white blue, who’s it – not you. OK, so not that one. I’ll take this one, you go down there.’
He set off rapidly down the passage before stopping so abruptly he nearly fell over, and turning back to Martha. ‘Sorry – you happy with that?’
Martha smiled. ‘Of course.’
‘See you back at the Great Hall,’ the Doctor yelled over his shoulder as he disappeared.
Martha set off more sedately along her passageway. She didn’t hold out a lot of hope of finding Janna, and she suspected that as much as anything the Doctor just wanted to be active – to be doing something. That was probably what kept his brain working. If they didn’t find the girl, he’d come up with another plan…
The man with the shattered hand stepped out from the shadowy depths of an alcove at the back of the Great Hall.
He had heard the Doctor and Martha, had seen them chase off after the girl Janna. They were getting too curious, he thought. Discovering too much. But the Doctor had made a mistake. He had left the glass diary on the side table where the girl had been hiding. He would have to be fast, as they could be back at any moment. In and out as quickly and quietly as possible. No time even to wake the sleeping shock troops. But they would hear the Doctor when he came – when he fell into the trap, and into their hands. Their claws…
The man hurried across the room, listening for any sound of the Doctor and Martha returning. But there was nothing. He picked up the glass book and turned to the mirror. The mirror in which he cast no reflection.
He walked more briskly now. Stood in front of the mirror. Reached behind the frame and adjusted a control. Then he stepped into the mirror. The surface rippled like dense, silvery liquid as he passed through, into the world beyond. Taking the diary with him…
General Orlo insisted on being there when the GA commander, Colonel Blench, reported to Defron. Not that there was anything much to report.
‘We are continuing to search the castle for any intruders,’ Blench told them. ‘All the guides are being questioned as well as the rest of the staff. Obviously we will need permission to search the delegates’ rooms.’
‘You think we are suspects?’ Orlo demanded.
‘Not at all. As I understand it, sir, all the delegates were in the negotiating chamber awaiting the First Secretary when the incident occurred.’
Orlo’s scaly skin curled back from his teeth. ‘Incident? Is that all it is to you, Colonel?’
‘I can assure you my troops and I are treating this with the utmost diligence and seriousness,’ Blench said calmly. ‘I can call it a murder or a killing or an assassination if you wish, but in my experience emotive terminology makes for an emotive response.’
‘No one is questioning your dedication or efficiency,’ Defron said quickly.
‘Though I assume there are as yet no positive results to report from this diligence and efficiency?’ Orlo said.
‘The General is experienced enough himself to know that negative results are also important,’ Blench said levelly. ‘Not finding incriminating evidence or a possible weapon in the places we have so far searched narrows down the options.’
Orlo met the colonel’s stare for several moments before he replied. ‘You are right, of course, Colonel Blench. I have the utmost confidence in your ability and your dedication. Forgive my impatience, but First Secretary Chekz was a friend as well as a colleague. I served under him for a time in the Wensleyan Campaign.’
‘I didn’t know that,’ Defron said.
‘I’m not sure Chekz knew that,’ Orlo said. ‘It was a long time ago, and I was new to the Zerugian Marine Force. Thank you, Colonel. You may go.’
Colonel Blench saluted and left. If it occurred either to him or to Defron that it was not Orlo’s place to dismiss an officer of the Galactic Alliance, neither of them said so.
There was an echo to Martha’s footsteps. She didn’t want to frighten Janna away, but what if
it was the mysterious monk? Martha paused, half-turned, and heard a stifled giggle.
It was Janna.
Martha turned quickly, but the passageway seemed empty.
‘I know you’re there,’ she called. ‘I heard you, Janna. I just want to talk. The Doctor – remember the Doctor? He wants to ask you some things. About the mirror.’
‘What about it?’ Janna’s voice came from the other side of the corridor from where Martha had been looking.
‘I thought…’ Martha shook her head and turned to face the girl as she stepped out from behind a pillar.
‘That’s my sister. She’s following me, and I’m following you. But she’s dead, so ignore her. Ignore her and maybe she’ll go away.’ The girl turned and shouted at the empty shadows across the corridor. ‘I wish you’d go away!’
‘It’s all right,’ Martha told her. She hurried to the girl and hugged her close, felt her tiny fragile body shaking with emotion and fear. ‘It’s OK. You’re quite safe. I’ll look after you. I promise. Don’t be scared by… the shadows. You’ll be all right.’
Janna pulled away after a moment. Her lips were pressed together tight in a determined expression. She nodded quickly. ‘Course I’ll be all right. I’m always all right. What do you want to know, then?’
Martha reached out. The girl hesitated, then let Martha take her by the hand. ‘Come with me, back to the Great Hall. Is that OK?’
Janna nodded quickly again. Then she glanced into the shadows opposite before pulling her hand free and running on ahead of Martha. ‘Come on then. Race you!’
The path the Doctor had taken led him back to the living accommodation. He walked past his own room and Martha’s, already pretty sure that he had lost Janna. With any luck, Martha would find the girl.
Before long he found himself walking down a twisting stone staircase that led past Gonfer’s room. On an impulse, he knocked at the door. There was no answer.
‘No one here but us monks,’ he murmured, and continued on his way.
Only to meet someone coming up the stairs towards him. A shadow fell across the curving wall, distorted and grotesque – claw-like hands reaching out. The Doctor stopped.
‘Who goes there?’ he asked brightly.
Martha in the Mirror Page 8