‘Greetings, Time Traveller.’
Martha backed away from the cloaked figure. Something gleamed in the darkness under the hood as the figure stepped towards Martha.
She turned and ran.
‘Left, always go left,’ she told herself as she ran.
She had no idea who the monk was, or what he wanted. But he’d been stalking her and the Doctor, and he’d bashed Gonfer on the head. She wasn’t sure quite what she had seen glinting under the hood, but she wasn’t about to wait around and find out.
She had to find Janna – maybe the girl would know what was going on.
But where was she?
Martha pulled up, gasping for breath. She’d not heard the monk following her, not seen him behind her. She struggled to control her breathing, and listened.
The tinkling sound of laughter came from the other side of a hedge. The foliage was dense and leafy, but Martha forced her hands into it and pulled aside small branches to try to see through. She could make out the shape of Janna on the other side. Her fair hair was shining gold in the light from the huge lamps in the sky above.
‘Janna!’ Martha called through the hedge. ‘Janna, I need to talk to you. Stay there.’
But the girl was already running off, and Martha was unable to hold the hedge apart for any longer. The branches were straining to regain their shape. The leaves closed over the view of the little girl skipping off along the green corridor.
The hedge was too high to climb, and too thick to push through. So Martha had to follow the maze. She caught a glimpse of Janna peeping back at her from round a corner. But by the time she got there the girl had gone.
Almost immediately, Martha heard a laugh from behind her. She spun round – and there was Janna again. This time at the other end of the hedge. Again, a glimpse, then she was gone, leaving only the faint echo of her laugh. How had she done that? How could she get from one end of the hedge to the other so fast? Martha ran to look, but there was no path on the other side between the two points.
Unless she could somehow get through the maze. Remembering the hidden door in the wall of the castle, Martha pushed at the hedge. But it was just a hedge, and all she gained from the effort was a series of scratches across her hands.
Never mind. She’d ask Janna what she’d done – and how she’d done it – when she caught up. It seemed to be a game to the girl. A cross between Hide and Seek and Follow the Leader.
‘Dip red white blue,’ Martha murmured. Then she set off deeper into the maze.
The further into the maze Martha went, the more lost she became. Her only hope was to find the little girl, who might be able to show her the way out again. But she was aware too of the strange hooded figure who had tried to speak to her.
And it seemed to Martha that it was not only one little girl she was following. It seemed to Martha that perhaps – just perhaps – the girl’s dead sister was there in the maze with them. A ghostly figure behind the hedges, laughing and playing and keeping to the shadows. Close to where she had died…
The Doctor shut the diary. That was the last entry. And if what was written somehow reflected what was actually happening out in the gardens, then that was a worry.
Walking briskly, the Doctor pushed the diary into his pocket. It was a worry on so many levels, he thought. How could an old diary – and it was certainly old, he could feel it was old – how could it describe events that were happening right now? How could it mirror – and he chose the word deliberately – reality?
Without making a conscious decision, the Doctor broke into a run. He needed to find Martha. He needed to get to the maze.
Another thing that was odd about the book, he thought as he pelted through the castle corridors, his rapid footsteps echoing off the stone walls, was that the style changed. There was a distinct difference between what was written by Grieg when he was trapped in the mirror, and what was written about the current events inside the castle. They became less personal, related in the third person, as if by an observer rather than the central character. Had they been written by someone else? Or did Grieg think his role in the unfolding of his own story had changed?
Nearly there now – nearly at the door out into the castle courtyard.
The Doctor rounded a corner, and almost slammed into Defron coming the other way.
‘Excuse me!’ the Doctor announced loudly as he executed an impressive sidestep. ‘Coming through!’
‘Doctor – wait,’ Defron said, grabbing his sleeve.
The Doctor pulled up. ‘Is it urgent?’
‘Well, yes.’
‘Then I can give you ten seconds. No more. Martha’s in trouble.’
Defron nodded as he took this in. ‘Ten seconds, er – right. The Galactic Associated Press Corps ship is about to arrive. General Orlo and Lady Casaubon have agreed to hold a press conference in the Great Hall. Announce good progress on the treaty, show how willing both sides are to make this work.’
‘Feel the hand of history on their shoulders?’ the Doctor suggested. ‘Good stuff. And what about the small matter of a murderous assassin being on the loose?’
‘The official line is that Chekz died suddenly and tragically of natural causes. Colonel Blench will keep everything locked down and secure.’
‘Fine. Great.’ The Doctor was bouncing on the balls of his feet. ‘That it?’
‘I’d like you to be there,’ Defron said. ‘In case of any, you know, awkward questions.’
‘Incognito.’
‘Absolutely. Visiting expert or something.’
The Doctor frowned. ‘Ye-es…’ There was something stirring at the back of his mind, but there was no time right now to tease it out and see what it was. ‘Keep us good seats,’ he called over his shoulder as he ran on. ‘Near the ice cream queue.’
Although Martha struggled to understand how it was possible, she realised that the explanation was simple.
She also realised that despite her intention of keeping to the left, the glimpses of Janna and the tantalising echoes of her laugh had led Martha to stray from that intention. There was no way she could confidently retrace her path to the entrance of the maze, so she might as well keep going after Janna and hope to catch her up.
After all, if this was just a game, maybe Janna would tire of it and come and find Martha.
The path she was on led to a dead end. Martha could see the blank green wall of the hedge in front of her. Just as she was about to turn and try another way, she saw that there was an opening just ahead of her. Hedges behind hedges – it meant that you had to be close to the openings before you even saw they were there.
She stepped through and found herself in a large square. The centre of the maze. The middle was paved with a chequer board of stone slabs, alternately polished white and deep red. The focal point was a weathered statue on a large square plinth. The carved shape of a massive Zerugian warrior looked down disdainfully. The reptilian creature was clothed in battle armour and brandishing a fearsome-looking gun. Its teeth were chipped and worn, and the base of the statue was crumbling with age.
As she approached, Martha saw a shadow emerging from behind the statue. Not the shadow of the statue itself, it was the wrong shape, it was in the wrong place. And it was moving – slowly disappearing out of sight as someone hid behind the massive stone base.
‘Got you!’ Martha declared, and sprinted round the statue.
She expected to find Janna hiding there, laughing, hand pressed to her face in a mixture of amusement and embarrassment at being caught.
Instead, the cloaked figure of the monk stepped forward, blocking Martha’s line of escape to the gap in the hedge.
‘Oh,’ Martha said. ‘It’s you again. What do you want?’ she demanded, defiant.
In reply, the monk unfolded his arms from the sleeves of the cloak. He held something up – something that glinted and shone as it caught the light.
Martha gasped in astonishment. But the sound was lost in the blast of the explosion
.
The Doctor sprinted down the causeway leading from the castle’s main gates into the grounds.
‘Maze, maze, maze,’ he said to himself, shielding his eyes and scanning the landscape until he saw it.
If he stuck to the path, he would have to head off towards the rose garden, then double back. Much further than the direct route across the lawn and past the edge of the lake.
He didn’t hesitate. Sonic screwdriver in hand, he set off at a jog. The tip of the screwdriver glowed blue as he angled it at the ground ahead of him. It bleeped rhythmically.
Suddenly, the rhythm changed. It became more insistent, higher in pitch, as it detected a hidden mine. The Doctor changed course slightly, and the rhythm returned to the steady pace it had originally had.
Halfway there. Another change of rhythm, and another change of course.
Over halfway.
Then an insistent, sudden, rapid beeping. Changing course seemed to make no difference, and the Doctor stopped abruptly. He swept the screwdriver in an arc in front of him. There was no way through.
With a sigh, the Doctor adjusted a setting, and aimed the sonic screwdriver.
The air was split with the deafening roar of the explosion as the mine detonated.
The ground shook with the force of the blast from somewhere outside the maze. Martha staggered, and almost fell.
The monk clutched at the base of the statue for support, almost dropping the glass book he was holding. The diary.
‘How did you get that?’ Martha demanded as the sound of the explosion died away. ‘What have you done to the Doctor?’
‘You ask me how I got it?’ the monk countered in his rasping voice.
There was another explosion.
The monk was knocked backwards as the ground shook. He clutched the book tight, and struggled to keep his balance. But the movement shook his hood back from his face.
His gleaming, broken face.
Martha stared in horrified disbelief at the old man. His thinning white hair was like ice, moulded to his head. His face was lined and worn – every facet of it catching and reflecting the light from above. A thin crack ran from his forehead down to his chin, and there was a chip out of his nose, another gouged from his chin. A hole scooped from his cheek.
Just a glimpse. A nightmare moment before the monk pulled his hood forward again.
‘Have you read the diary?’ the monk asked. He stepped towards Martha. ‘Have you been into the mirror?’
‘Who are you?’ Martha said. Her throat was dry and it was an effort to swallow. ‘What do you want? Keep away from me!’
The monk hesitated. The head turned in a quizzical manner. He seemed to be about to speak again.
Then Janna ran from the entranceway, from behind the monk, and hurled herself at him. The girl’s shoulder cannoned into the back of the cloaked figure, sending him sprawling. His foot caught and twisted, and he fell.
Martha grabbed Janna. The monk had fallen between them and the way out, so she dragged the girl behind the statue, gesturing at her urgently to keep quiet. The monk’s hood had fallen forward over his face, so he had not seen Martha and Janna hide.
Peeping out cautiously from behind the plinth, Martha saw the monk haul himself to his feet. He had one hand pressed to his face as he staggered away, out of the central area and back into the maze.
‘Why did you run away from me?’ Martha hissed to Janna.
The girl’s eyes were wide in surprise. ‘I didn’t.’
‘Why didn’t you stop, or come when I called to you?’
Janna shook her head in surprise. ‘I followed you,’ she said. ‘I saw you go into the maze. That monk man too. I thought you might need help, so I followed.’
‘But you came in here first,’ Martha insisted.
Janna looked back at her, impassive. ‘You are so strange,’ she said. Then she skipped out from behind the statue and across to the paving where the monk had fallen. ‘What’s this?’
Martha could see it too – something on the ground, where he had fallen. Something that caught the light and shimmered and gleamed and shone.
Janna picked it up. She held it out to Martha.
‘It’s glass.’
‘Must be from the book.’ Martha took it carefully from the girl. But it was the wrong shape. Too thick and curled to be from the pages or cover or even the spine of the diary. ‘He must have dropped it,’ she murmured. She held it up to the light, seeing the tiny cracks deep inside the old glass.
‘What do you think?’ she asked as a shadow fell across the ground at her feet.
But Janna had gone. The shadow was the Doctor’s. He took the glass from her and examined it. ‘I think this place is amazing,’ he said. ‘An amazing maze. Best sort. And I think we should get back to the castle before the press corps arrives in force. And I think,’ he said, tossing the piece of glass into the air and catching it again, ‘that our troubles may be just beginning. What do you think, Martha?’
‘I think,’ she told him, ‘that Janna’s sister is still alive.’
The Doctor paused at an intersection of several hedges. ‘Yes,’ he decided at last. ‘This way.’
‘I followed her into the maze, you see,’ Martha explained. ‘Only Janna said she followed me. And it certainly seemed like there were two of them.’
‘Identical?’
‘Twins.’
‘No,’ the Doctor said. ‘No, that’s not right at all.’
‘I’m just telling you what I saw.’
‘Oh not you,’ the Doctor assured her. ‘No, I think it must be back this way.’ He spun on his heel and set off in the opposite direction.
‘Isn’t there some scheme where you keep going left or something?’ Martha asked.
‘That’d work,’ the Doctor agreed. ‘Except we just went right. And it does rather assume the hedges stay put.’
‘The hedges move?!’
‘Well, I don’t know. Be fun if they did though. I was in a maze once…’ the Doctor started to say. Then his voice faded as he paused at the next junction.
‘Dip red white blue?’ Martha suggested.
‘Or eeny meeny miny mo.’ He tapped his finger on his chin. ‘I wonder which we should do. Perhaps we need to do one-potato two-potato to work out if it’s best to go eeny meeny or dip red.’ He shook his head. ‘Two routes, two choices, two little girls. And,’ he added, ‘two murders.’
‘Two?’
‘Chekz, and the man Janna saw looking in the mirror – whoever he was.’
‘Defron, maybe?’ Martha said, following him along his chosen path – straight to a dead end, and then back again.
‘Or one of the soldiers. Or Stellman, or… Who do you think? Colonel Mustard in the Great Hall with the Mortal Mirror? Colonel Blench – there’s a thought. He’s the commander of the GA troops. Nice man, for a soldier. What do you reckon, Martha?’
‘Well, I’m no expert…’ Martha started.
‘No,’ the Doctor agreed. He sounded thoughtful.
‘Oh, cheers for that.’
‘Oh, but yes.’ The Doctor turned quickly and punched her lightly on the shoulder. ‘Yes you are, Martha. You’re brilliant. You’re trained and everything. You can tell if someone’s dead.’
‘Yeah, well that’s not usually the desirable option. By then it’s too late.’
‘Never too late. Never say die. Well, hardly ever. Well, not much anyway. Though in this case…’
‘Doctor – what are you on about?’
‘The thing is,’ the Doctor said, ‘does it matter if Tylda really died?’
‘It matters to Janna.’
The Doctor nodded. ‘Maybe that’s the point. She’s going out of her mind being haunted by the ghost of someone who isn’t dead.’
‘You think someone’s doing it deliberately?’
The Doctor shrugged. ‘Why bother? Seems rather convoluted as plans go. If you want to discredit her, you just need to say she’s wrong.’
‘Abou
t what?’
‘About what she saw in the mirror? Who knows. And anyway, why would Tylda hide from her own sister?’ He clapped his hands together. ‘Right here we are – just through here.’
Martha followed the Doctor through a gap in the hedge. But her growing relief turned to disappointment as she saw the open square area with the large statue of a Zerugian warrior on a plinth in the centre.
‘Or not,’ she said.
‘That’s good,’ the Doctor said, nodding thoughtfully.
‘Good? We’re back where we started.’
‘I know where I am now.’ He pointed. ‘This way. Come on.’
He led her unerringly and without hesitation back through the maze and, in what seemed like only a couple of minutes, they were back at the main entrance.
‘I wonder who I need to see to apologise for the mess,’ the Doctor said.
Martha could see what he meant. Two areas to the side of the lawn had been churned up, mud and soil strewn across. ‘Landmines?’
‘Nasty things,’ he agreed with a sniff.
‘You think Tylda survived the explosion, all that time ago?’
‘I don’t know,’ the Doctor admitted. ‘I wonder if it matters? Well, it matters to Janna obviously. And to Tylda. And if it does matter, does that matter?’
‘OK. Seriously confused now.’
‘So we need to get an expert opinion.’
‘And that’s me, right?’
‘Before the press people arrive,’ the Doctor went on.
His words were all but drowned out by the massive roar of the huge spaceship that forced its way ponderously through the shimmering bubble of the sky above and came in to land on the other side of the castle.
As soon as the Doctor and Martha reached the courtyard, Defron hurried over to them.
‘I am so glad I found you.’
‘Nice to see you too,’ the Doctor said. ‘Are we late for tea or something? I’m sorry. Crumpets?’
‘What?’ Defron looked from the Doctor to Martha and then back to the Doctor again.
‘Are there crumpets for tea? With jam? Got to have jam.’ He turned to Martha. ‘Haven’t you?’
Martha in the Mirror Page 11