The King's Dragon Read online

  'Right, what's the plan?'

  'Plan?'

  'I bet it's brilliant.'

  'Brilliant.'

  'I bet it's so brilliant I could see my own face in it.'

  Behind them, Rory said, 'We could always try the side entrance.'

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  The Doctor and Amy, turning to look at him, said in unison, 'What side entrance?'

  Rory shoved his hands in his pockets and stared down at his feet. 'There's usually one, isn't there? I think I saw some people leave that way earlier... I was sitting over on the side, yes? Not everyone went out of the main doors... Look, it was "just a suggestion"!'

  Roughly five and a half minutes later, the three of them came to a halt before an unprepossessing and unguarded door. The Doctor tried the handle. It opened without creaking. 'And we're in!' he said softly and gleefully. He slipped inside, Amy and Rory following close behind, and the travellers found themselves in the arcade that ran around the perimeter of the council chamber.

  The hall itself was dark and deserted.

  Everything was in shadow which only an hour or two earlier had been so full and busy. Up on the dais, two lamps burned behind the throne. The dragon glowed palely. The Doctor made straight for it. He knelt down in front of it and patted it on the snout.

  'Don't worry,' he said to it, aiming the sonic screwdriver into its half-open eye. 'This won't hurt.'

  The beast shuddered. 'Whoa! Down boy!' The Doctor switched off the sonic, moved round to the 55

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  side of the dragon and then - gently, ever so gently -

  used it again to remove a tiny piece of metal from the dragon's side. 'Come here, both of you,' he said to Amy and Rory. 'Come and take a closer look at raw Enamour.'

  It was only a scrap - a tiny scale - nestling in the palm of the Doctor's hand. But it was so smooth, and its colour so pure and unusual... Even a piece as small as this, Amy thought, you'd love to have it.

  You'd love to take it out to look at it and hold it and know that you owned it. You'd love to be able to call it yours...

  'You're thinking that it's beautiful, aren't you?'

  said the Doctor. 'That it's the most gorgeous thing you've ever seen. Rory doesn't match up. Amy doesn't compare. You're wondering what it would be like to have it, you're wondering how you ever lived without it, and you can't understand why anyone would say that it's dangerous. How can anything so gorgeous be so dangerous? But it's all these things - beautiful and necessary and dangerous. The people who made it understood how powerful it was. That's why they called it Enamour. Because it bewitches people. It can turn minds, sell merchandise, sway elections. And it does its job far too well.' The Doctor closed his hand.

  Amy drew in a shivery breath. She glanced at 56

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  Rory. He looked shaken too. He reached over to take her hand and she held his back, tight.

  The Doctor threw the piece up into the air and caught it; once again it shone in his palm. He closed his hand once more - when he opened it, the tiny powerful scrap had disappeared. 'Yes. So that's Enamour,' he said. 'And the thing is, that it was all right wanting it, and getting it, and even wanting more of it - but it didn't stop there. Oh no. There were other effects too, side effects, that nobody predicted. You've felt it already, both of you, haven't you - a necklace here, a spoon there—'

  'Or a fork?' Amy suggested.

  'Yes, what is it about forks? And the next thing you know, you've gone and put it in your pocket.

  But then you start thinking - well, is that what people are doing to my stuff? Is that what they're doing with my spoons?'

  'Or forks,' Amy said, pointedly.

  'Or, as you rightly say, forks. Do you have designs on my forks?' He shot her a fierce look.

  Amy almost took a step back but then he grinned at her. 'So first you get protective, and then you get suspicious, and the next thing you know you're keeping secrets, and you're getting afraid, and you're wondering if maybe those people you used to call your neighbours aren't quite as friendly as you thought they were. Because look at your 57

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  amazing stuff! It's so beautiful and necessary - they must want it as much as you do. They must have their eye on it...' He looked around the chamber, into the shadows. Again, Amy had that sense of dread, that something was close, something was watching...

  'I think that's been happening here,' Rory said slowly.

  'Me too,' said the Doctor. His gaze came to rest on Amy. She let go of Rory's hand and folded her arms.

  There hadn't been anything. Just a trick of the light.

  'I got talking to this old woman earlier,' Rory said suddenly. 'Her name's Hilthe. She used to be on their council here, or whatever it was called, and then Beol rolled up with the Teller and the dragon, and they challenged her in an election, and she lost. It was nothing like the Teller's version of events.' He took out the tile that Hilthe had given him and handed it to the Doctor. His words came more and more rapidly, as if now he'd started to talk he wanted to get it all out. 'She gave me this - I don't know what it is - said that if I wanted to come and hear more about the good old days I should come and visit her. I don't think this Enamour stuff affects her, Doctor. She wasn't wearing any gold, and she couldn't understand why everyone was so... Well, enchanted by Beol.'

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  The Doctor examined the tile closely, studying the marks engraved upon. He flipped it over to look at the back and traced his fingertip along the delicate filigree he found there. 'It's a map of part of the city. I think the black dot on it here is probably your friend's house. This is her calling card.' He threw it back over to Rory. 'Hilthe. She sounds like somebody we should get to know better. Think you could persuade her to come and talk to me?'

  'I'll give it a go.' Rory turned to Amy.

  'Coming?'

  She shook her head. 'No, I'll stay here. I want to find out more about this metal stuff. Where it came from. How it got here. Why there's so much of it. I'll see you in the rooms later.'

  'Where it came from,' the Doctor repeated, as Rory went on his way. 'How it got here. Why there's so much of it. Anything else you'd like, while I'm at it?'

  'Cup of tea would be nice, thanks, but dragon facts will do for now.'

  'Right.' The Doctor flipped out the sonic screwdriver again. 'Well, the reason there's so much, is that working with the metal makes more of it. The more you do to it, the more there is of it. Like instant coffee.'

  I’d rather that cup of tea,' Amy said. 'But that's why it oozes and wriggles and gets everywhere?'

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  'That's why.'

  'So how about where it came from and how it got here?'

  'Let's see what we can find out...' Sonic screwdriver in hand, the Doctor wandered around the dragon. It didn't move but, watching it lie there, its eye half-open, Amy couldn't quite shake the feeling that it was only biding its time, waiting to stir and rise up from the dais...

  'It won't move, you know,' the Doctor said. He was on the left side of the dragon, and was apparently trying to prise it open. 'Not unless I tell it to move.' He thought about what he had just said.

  'Or the people who made it turn up again and tell it to move.'

  'Is that likely to happen?'

  'I don't think so—'

  'You don't think so?'

  'That's the best I can manage until I find out something about the provenance of this beastie...

  Oh, here we are!'

  He had managed to loosen a section of the dragon; a piece of metal much larger than the single scale he had detached before. This was the size of a dinner plate, thinner and slightly curved.

  The Doctor turned it over several times to study it and then he handed it over to Amy. 'As I said. Not likely to happen.'

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  When Amy examined it, she
saw marks engraved on it. Letters, presumably. 'Doctor, not all of us are fluent in technobabble.'

  'No? What do they teach you in those schools?' He took the panel back. 'Manufacturer's details. Like a hallmark. And what that tells me, Amy, is that our big old friendly worm here was made a very long time ago, by a civilisation that was out travelling between the stars before life even put in an appearance on this world.' He stared intently down at the metal, as if he might somehow catch sight of that distant, ancient species and learn something about them. 'Think about it. This was an empty world back then. No people. Leaving the dragon here was like burying your treasure under a tree in the corner of a quiet field. But that was aeons ago. I doubt its owners will be back for it. In the meantime, it's not doing anybody here any good. We need to get rid of it.'

  He put the panel back into place and used the sonic screwdriver to reattach it. Amy walked slowly round the dragon, admiring the curves of its wings, the long sweep of its tail. Knowing that it was so old, so alien, made it even more fascinating. 'I wonder what made them leave it here. Why would you do that? It's so...'

  'Go on,' said the Doctor. 'It's so...?'

  'So beautiful,' Amy said honestly. 'I think it's 61

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  the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.'

  'It isn't, though. It's only making you think that it is.' He pulled a face. 'Although, having seen Leadworth, this could well be the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. But mostly what you're feeling is the effect of Enamour. When it wears off, this will be—'

  'A completely ordinary big gold dragon of uncertain alien provenance.'

  The Doctor grinned at her. 'Precisely that.'

  'So why abandon it? If it's so special to them?

  Why give it up?'

  'Why does anyone bury their treasure? Perhaps they were in trouble and they couldn't carry it with them. Trying to escape trouble. Big universe, plenty of trouble.'

  'A war? An invasion?'

  'That's the kind of thing. Or maybe they stole it and hid it so that they weren't caught with it when the bill turned up.'

  Amy began to laugh. 'A heist gone wrong!'

  'Maybe! Why not? Jewel theft, Amy,' he said grandly, 'is a universal constant. But chances are we'll never find out the full story.' He leaned his elbow on the beast casually, almost too casually.

  Amy gave him a questioning frown. He raised an eyebrow and jerked his head slightly, gesturing behind him. Someone there, Amy guessed, 62

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  listening to them talk. How much had they heard?

  'But there are a few things we could learn,' the Doctor went on. 'Very easily.'

  'Oh yes?' Amy kept her tone light.

  'Yes.' He draped one arm proprietarily over the dragon. 'Such as - where did Beol and the Teller find the dragon? Who were they before they turned up here in Geath? How did they find out how to make it work for them? And are they anything more than a couple of conmen?' Without turning his head, the Doctor called back over his shoulder. 'So why don't you stop lurking in the shadows like a bad stage villain, come out here, and start telling the truth rather than spinning a pack of lies?'

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  Chapter

  4

  'A chord,' Rory said with confidence, as he walked along the empty criss-cross streets of Geath, 'is the line between two points on a curve.' Truly, as the Doctor had promised, the universe was full of marvels. Here, on an alien world in a strange city under the spell of a mysterious substance not entirely within his comprehension, Rory had finally found a use for GCSE maths. Without it (and Hilthe's map, to be fair) he would be literally walking round in circles.

  'You'll find a use for it one day, Williams,' Rory muttered, in a passable imitation of Mr Swallow, Head of Maths, which would have made Amy laugh, if Amy hadn't been half a mile away and 65

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  behaving weirdly. More weirdly. Even more weirdly than running away with a charismatically chaotic time traveller the night before her wedding.

  Their wedding. That was already weird enough for Rory. And yet still he found himself picking his way round said strange city in the middle of the night in search of a little old lady. And why?

  Because the Doctor had asked him to. Talk about Enamour. 'So if I go up these steps... and along this alley... then I should come out—'

  Into another plaza, this one as deserted as the rest of the city, the tinkling water in its fountain the only sound to be heard. The buildings glistered eerily under the moon. 'Weird weird weird. It is all too weird. I don't like it.' Rory examined the tile that Hilthe had given him and turned ninety degrees anticlockwise. He headed down a broad avenue lined with trees tottering under the weight of the decorations loaded onto them.

  Hilthe's house, when he found it, stood out a mile — it was the only one not slathered in Enamour.

  Rory ran up the steps and pulled on the bell. As he waited, he studied the stained glass on the nearest window. Even in the dim light, its vibrant colours and intricate design gave a clue to how Geath must have looked before the metal had oozed out of the council chamber and coated everything, turning the city uniform.

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  A servant answered the door. Rory showed him the tile and was led into a sitting room that was warm, comfortable, and conspicuously gold-free. As he waited, Rory looked at some of the pictures: paintings and sketches of Geath throughout its long history.

  On the shelves and in the cabinets were other treasures: badges of office, old books and documents, portraits of the long-dead great and good. So many people, so many of the symbols and artefacts that must have meant so much to them over the years. Hilthe, Rory understood properly now, was an important part of that history, and this room was a shrine to it. What had the Doctor said? Twelve and a half thousand years.

  What would it be like, to have that much weight of the past behind you? How would it feel, knowing that you had failed to persuade your fellow citizens that all those years of tradition were worth keeping? That the long chain of history was ending with you?

  Hilthe arrived, wearing a crimson quilted dressing gown and showing no outward sign of minding that she had been woken up in the middle of the night by a near stranger. The famous Geathian hospitality at last. She sat them down by the hearth, and her servant poured glasses of a hot, sweet tea, while Rory explained in the simplest terms possible what it was that they had discovered so far.

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  'The friend I'm travelling with, the Doctor — he's taken a closer look at the metal that the dragon's made from, and it's worried him.' He took a sip.

  'Anyway, the Doctor thinks it might be having some sort of effect on the people of the city.' He sipped again, marshalling his thoughts. 'And that might be why the Teller and Beol have been able to control them. The metal kind of makes people believe what the Teller says.'

  'A metal that can change minds?' Hilthe frowned. 'That doesn't sound very likely.'

  'I know it sounds... well, weird, but it's the truth.

  I've seen it happen. We only arrived in the city this evening, and Amy's already been affected.'

  'Amy?'

  'My other friend. My girlfriend. We heard noises in the council complex and went to investigate. Awful noises — screeching, shrieking. Amy ran off ahead, but when we caught up with her, she hardly seemed to know what we were talking about. I think the metal — Enamour, it's called — makes people forget things, or suppress them, or keep them secret.'

  Hilthe sat back in her chair. She studied Rory carefully. 'Strange metals, strange noises — all told, this is a very strange tale.'

  'But true. Honestly. If you come and meet the Doctor, he'll explain, better than I can. He's good 68

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  at making the outright bizarre sound completely reasonable.'

  'Not necessarily a quality. But can he help? Can he help Geath?'

  'Help is what the Doc
tor does. Help is what the Doctor is.'

  Hilthe sat in silent contemplation for a while, studying the different treasures that lined the walls of her home. Then, apropos of nothing, she said, 'When do you and Amy marry?'

  'In the morning... How did you know we were getting married?'

  Hilthe nodded at his hands. 'When you started talking about her, you began playing with that wedding band.'

  'What?' Rory looked down. Sure enough, he was fiddling with a gold ring. Where had that come from? He didn't remember picking it up. It sat in the centre of his palm. 'Hilthe, this isn't mine.' As he spoke, the ring suddenly twisted round of its own accord. He tried to drop it, but it seemed to him that it writhed in his hand, refusing to be let go. 'I can't stop it!'

  Hilthe got out of her seat and leaned over to still his hands. Gently but firmly, she took the ring from him. She held it up in front of her to examine it more closely, and Rory caught a glimpse of her sharp, clever eye through it. Then Hilthe blinked.

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  She shuddered and doubled over, giving a small cry of pain.

  Rory jumped out of his seat and ran to help her but, before he could get close enough, he bounced back. He stretched out his hands. They came up against something solid. Rory pushed hard against it, desperate to get to the old woman, who was now shaking violently.

  'Hilthe!' he cried, thumping against the barrier between them.

  But there was no way through, no matter how hard he hit or pushed. Rory pressed his hands against the invisible barrier and watched helplessly as pulsing golden light began to emanate from the ring. Small circles at first, expanding rapidly until Hilthe was entirely enveloped by the light.

  Her skin became translucent, as if she was made of clear crystal that was lit from within. The ring, cupped in her hands, began to glow. Her head was bowed and Rory could not see her face.

  'Hilthe,' Rory whispered in awe. 'Are you still in there? Can you speak to me?'

  Hilthe raised her head and opened her eyes.