Doctor Who_ Bunker Soldiers Part 10

Isaac put down his stripped goose-quill.

'But the authorities could discover your work,' continued Nahum.

'd.a.m.n the authorities!' exclaimed Isaac with unusual vehemence. 'They should have better things to consider.'

'Of course,' said Nahum, seating himself on a bench to face his father. 'But if Yevhen already knows...'

'Knows, and delights in reminding me of his knowledge at every turn, as if I am some farm animal that can be led out to pasture only when needed.'

'Do you think he will ever go to the Church authorities?'

Isaac snorted. 'Remember poor Olexander? It is not beyond the man.' He dabbed a cloth at his fingers. 'I do not accept their Church, their beliefs... there are times I am not even sure I accept my own!'

'Which only makes you more vulnerable.'

Isaac looked sadly down at his work. 'It is a shame. If you could only see the majesty of the original words, the text... the beauty of language as it springs from the page as if alive.'

Nahum smiled. 'I must admit, I have had use for some words from the Song of Solomon this very day.'

'Why should the people not have these holy words in their own tongue? "Your b.r.e.a.s.t.s are like two fawns, twins of a gazelle that graze amongst the lilies. Until the day breathes and the shadows flee, I shall go to the mountain of myrrh and the hill of frankincense." Who could possibly take offence at such words?'

'There are many,' said Nahum with a smile.

'And there are many sons who would not favour their fathers making such "bawdy" talk!'

'Perhaps. How is mother?'

'She is sound asleep in our chamber.' Isaac paused, his eyes twinkling. 'You are deliberately changing the subject!'

'Forgive me, father.' Nahum bowed his head in mock humility.

'I can forgive you almost anything, my boy. How could any father not say the same?' Isaac grinned at his son. 'I know you are only protecting the ident.i.ty of your beloved.'

'No, father, I '

'Very n.o.ble, my son, but I will not take offence. You should know that. No matter what her beliefs, no matter what her cla.s.s...' His words trailed away as his brow furrowed. 'Indeed, an honest serving girl might be preferable to anyone who comes from a family of puffed-up importance and self-justification.'

'Those are the people you now work with,' observed Nahum.

'But I cannot bring myself to think of them more highly.'

Isaac got to his feet, stretching his weary limbs. 'It is late. I shall return to my room.'

Nahum stood and glanced back at the table. 'You should clear these away. We are not at home now, father.'

Isaac nodded. 'You are right. The risks are greater while we reside here.'

'That is my concern, father.'

'Your concern is appreciated, but I think you worry too much.' The old man reached up to run his gnarled fingers through his son's hair. And I could also ask why you are up at so dark an hour!'

'Young men's business,' answered Nahum evasively.

'Young men's business!' exclaimed Isaac. 'I hope with all my heart that this girl is worth your obvious affection for her.' He began to sort through his papers and books before stowing them away. 'And that both our secrets remain hidden.'

The Doctor woke with the sensation that he was being watched.

He was not aware of having fallen asleep, and yet clearly he had, and now something had roused him.

He partly opened his eyes, staring through his lashes into the darkness of the hastily created camp. It was warmer than before, with a grey blanket of cloud filling as much of the sky as he could see. But he could make out less than nothing beneath the slate-coloured heavens, merely darker shadows within shadows. Some might be distant hills, some the angles of shoulders and faces in sleep. He could not tell.

He risked opening his eyes completely and turned his head slowly in the direction of Mykola. The young captain had handed over to another soldier, the Doctor remembered dimly. The cloud frayed and allowed some moonlight to fall; the Doctor could see for the first time that Mykola's dark form was turned away from him, and motionless but for the rhythm of his breathing.

The moonlight faded again, leaving the Doctor in darkness and wondering what had disturbed him.

Something made him turn his head in the opposite direction where a number of horses were resting, the air rich with the aroma from their earlier exertions.

He could dimly perceive the dark bulk of the animals. Most rested on the ground, but one stood nervously. Some distance away, visible between the slender silhouettes of its legs, were twin points of light. They were soon joined by another pair, and then another; binary stars ascending and descending and growing bigger all the time.

The wolves were coming closer.

Nahum tried again to make himself comfortable, but he knew that every twist and turn roused his mind and deepened his irritation. He collapsed back on to his pillow, letting out an exhausted sigh, and pondered the source of his irritation.

He and Lesia were living in the same house but it was almost impossible to contrive an opportunity to see her in private.Yevhen watched her like a hawk a fascinating image, Nahum decided. He could well imagine Yevhen's teeth descending into bare flesh with all the savagery of a hunting bird attacking a day-old chick on a trainer's glove. Isaac was playing a dangerous game, and Yevhen was an unpredictable foe; and, if that was not enough, the Tartar hordes were coming towards all of them through the shadows and the darkness.

All these concerns, and more, were melding together in Nahum's mind, a bitter core of poison and resentment. They twisted into dreams, and were just calling him to sleep, when he heard the softest hint of movement beyond his door.

He p.r.i.c.ked his ears, but heard nothing more. Doubtless it was only a soldier, coming off duty to be replaced by another.

Nahum rolled over to face the door, and was about to close his eyes again when he saw the looped iron door-handle twist.

He stared at the door, unblinking. His forehead was slick with cold sweat; he kept telling himself that he was imagining things and that, if he concentrated with enough conviction, he would be quite safe.

But no. As his fearful eyes widened still further, he saw the twisted handle start to rotate.

Almost unconsciously, Nahum pushed himself into the corner of his bed, wordless prayers on his lips. His terror went deeper than he could articulate, but he knew one thing: something terrible was coming for him.

The door began to creak open, showing at first only the darkness of the corridor beyond. In time, it was fully open.

Behind it stood something something.

It was tall, and human-sized, and in a dark cape. Pale eyes glinted in what little light there was.

VII.

Mortus in anima I long ago came to the conclusion that my night vision isn't the best in the world a particular shame in the darkened city where, lacking even a torch or a candle, I stumbled from wall to wall like a blindfolded drunk.

I was mindful of the increased frequency of the civil night-watch patrols, and the additional groups of soldiers who roamed the streets, but at least it meant that Kiev was swathed in dark silence. As a whole, the population unquestioningly obeyed the curfew, so there was little chance of me running into someone who might alert the authorities. (For all our attempts to blend into this culture, there was a certain alien distinctiveness about us that we could not shake off.) I headed towards the cathedral the one structure in Kiev that was big enough to break the grey sky with its own turreted darkness. I was, of course, hoping to find a way to observe Bishop Vasil, whom Olexander felt was not to be trusted. But the old man's mention of the catacombs under the cathedral had intrigued me: I had no idea how to gain access to them, but, if I could, there was surely no more secure place in the whole city. I would be safe from the authorities for as long as I needed to be or until my food ran out, whichever happened first.

My only concern was the casket Olexander had described, and the fallen angel supposedly contained within it. My travels with the Doctor had pretty much cemented my own mistrust of superst.i.tion: everything I had encountered had some sort of rational explanation, even if I didn't understand it. But a rational creature is as likely to kill you as an irrational one maybe even more so, in my experience.

As I approached the cathedral I realised it was going to be difficult to observe and follow the archbishop. I didn't know the layout of the building, I had no means of contacting the others with my discoveries and I didn't even know what Vasil looked like. By all accounts he liked to keep a low profile, and I had certainly never met the man. Even so, looking for him seemed a more profitable course of action than searching for the catacombs. In a building the size of the cathedral, stuffed full of rooms and corridors, frescos and tapestries, their entrance could be almost anywhere.

I sighed as I approached the cathedral, wondering for a moment if I should seek out Dodo, or even, heaven forbid, the governor. My anxious thoughts were interrupted by a small knot of men who seemed to appear from nowhere at the side of the great building. Their clothing was dark and they carried only one torch between them, so at first all I saw was a clutch of tiny bobbing heads, moving as one, some distance from me.

I looked more closely, and realised they were arranged almost as a defensive circle around a central figure. They were intent, it seemed, on keeping someone well away from even the most accidental or fleeting of glances. Thus, the single torch and the complete silence in which they moved.

I tried to make my way carefully towards them, but they were already marching away from me. I did, however, catch a glimpse of the central figure, who was covered from head to foot in a dark brown cloak with something like ta.s.sels at its base.

I was either going to have to jog after them to make up ground, or let them go. Although intrigued by the stranger in their midst, I settled on the latter. I told myself to concentrate on the task at hand, whatever the diversions placed in my way.

I was about to make my way towards the main doors of the cathedral when two men in dark ecclesiastical robes peeled away from the departing group and began walking in my direction.

I dropped back into the shadows, straining to hear their voices. Though their hands were clenched behind their backs in what appeared to be modest piety, their words, when I could hear them, implied something much less holy. Between the euphemisms, I detected only a dark, festering evil.

'Adviser Yevhen?'

'What of him?' What appeared to be the senior figure paused for a moment, as if checking that he and his companion were not observed. 'He has had his turn to save the people of Kiev.

He seems only to have brought more destruction to us.'

'But you allowed him to proceed?'

'I decided I could not stand in his way. His failure underlines the importance of our own... negotiations.' I saw the man turn his head in the direction of the mysterious figure and the men who were escorting him.

'How do the negotiations go?' queried his companion.

'They go well, but slow. We struggle to find common ground in language, still yet of faith and philosophy.'

'But the Tartars' my ears p.r.i.c.ked up at the abrupt use of the word 'will help us with the southern problem?'

'I believe they will. And the Church of G.o.d, united by this threat, will amply reward any who help us.'

'Even these devils that sweep across Russia?'

'We are all tools of the Lord.' With that, the senior figure turned away. 'I have much to attend to.'

They disappeared inside the cathedral, and I wondered if, unwittingly, I had just had my first encounter with Bishop Vasil.

There were smaller doors, to the side of the great arched entrance, and I decided I would try these. They were, of course, open it wouldn't even occur to the people of Kiev to think of making off with one of the icons, or stealing and melting down the great golden candle-holders or incense-burners.

I stepped quickly inside, and found myself in an enormous cold s.p.a.ce where every footstep rang out like gunfire. At first, only my nose gave me any information at all the musty, sweet smell of ancient incense. Then my eyes grew more accustomed to the mother-of-pearl light that was admitted by the coloured windows and punctuated by one or two lit candles that trailed a path to the great altar. I followed nervously in the footsteps of the faithful, all too aware of my booted feet rapping on the flagstones.

I was about half-way towards the altar when I heard voices whispering. I ducked down between the pews, and listened keenly. They seemed to be following my path from the main door towards the altar, but I dared not turn towards them. Far better to remain where I was, I reasoned, and, in any case, I recognised who was speaking.

It was Yevhen and Olexander.

'Should we be a little less brazen?' asked the old man, articulating a question that had occurred to me. (The other was even more simple: what was Olexander doing with Yevhen, of all people?) 'I was was less brazen,' replied Yevhen, 'and still a man died. In any event, I believe my actions have Vasil's approval.' less brazen,' replied Yevhen, 'and still a man died. In any event, I believe my actions have Vasil's approval.'

'He has told you this?'

'He has intimated as much. He is not interested in standing in the way of my plans any more than I am interested in his.

He is a fool. He thinks more of Constantinople than Kiev!'

'He would not be the first in our city to do so,' whispered Olexander. 'I'll warrant he may not be the last.'

They pa.s.sed by me at this point, more interested in their whispered conversation than the man crouched to one side of the great aisle. They came so close I could have reached out to touch them.

Both carried torches, held at about waist height. Olexander, trapped now only in the hunched prison of his ancient body, was clearly recognisable, and Yevhen's haughty bearing was unmistakable. The adviser strolled through the cathedral as if he owned it. Even so, they continued to whisper for all Yevhen's confidence, I surmised that he would prefer to go about his business undisturbed.

I tentatively followed the two men, carefully placing my feet on the cold stone floor, scarcely daring to breathe for fear of revealing my presence. I kept just close enough to hear any further dialogue between the men, but neither now said a word.

I was still shaken by Olexander's release from prison. Of course, after Dodo and Lesia's appearance, I had had every confidence that he would come with us, but I had come to respect his n.o.ble decision to stay. Was there another reason for this was the old man perhaps in cahoots with Yevhen, and thus not inclined to join our hasty escape? Indeed, apart from Lesia's reaction at seeing him, which seemed genuine enough, I now had no reason to think that Olexander had ever been a prisoner at all. Perhaps it was a set-up.Yevhen, via his puppet Olexander, wanted me to come to the cathedral. In which case, both men might know I was behind them.

That thought sent a s.h.i.+ver down my spine.

They turned into a side corridor, and I followed. Though I could just perceive window shapes set high up on the walls, either the clouds outside had thickened or the 'panes' were illusory, for even the torchlight struggled to pierce the velvety darkness. I followed the twin points of light, not wanting to. lose sight of them but not wis.h.i.+ng to reveal myself inadvertently to the two men.

Yevhen and Olexander came to a halt at last. I stood, straining for their voices.

'You know what you must do?' queried Yevhen.

'I will try my best,' affirmed Olexander.

Yevhen said nothing else, but I heard the metallic rattle of a bunch of keys being removed from a pocket, examined and then harshly slotted home.

There was a sharp crack as a door, I surmised, was pulled open.

'I must return to the governor's residence,' saidYevhen. 'I will be missed.'

'The door?' queried Olexander.

'I will leave it open. You may return here... once you have completed your task.'

'It will not be easy.'

'I have every confidence in you.'

With that, one of the torchlights disappeared into the still deeper darkness of the doorway, and the other began to return towards me.