THE ELEVENTH TIGER

DAVID A. MCINTEE

B B C

Published by BBC Worldwide Ltd,

Woodlands, 80 Wood Lane

London W12 OTT

First published 2004

Copyright © David A. McIntee 2004

The moral right of the author has been asserted

Original series broadcast on the BBC

Format © BBC 1963

Doctor Who and TARDIS are trademarks of the BBC

ISBN 0 563 48614 7

Imaging by Black Sheep, copyright © BBC 1999

Printed and bound in Great Britain by Mackays of Chatham

Cover printed by Belmont Press Ltd, Northampton

If this book is dedicated to anybody,

it should be to Gary and Linda Stratmann,

and to Derek Arundale and the rest of the folks in

Yorkshire’s Ji-Tae school of Taekwondo.

‘Beauty and anguish walking hand in hand The downward

slope to death’

- The Dream of the Red Chamber

CUTAWAY I

Translated in 1890, from the surviving fragment of ‘Mountains

and Sunsets’ by Ho Lin Chung (AD 1537):

One thousand seven hundred and forty-seven years ago, a

Taoist priest, who happened to be passing a hill, sat down for

a while to rest under a tree. As the priest ate some bread and

rice, he noticed a disconsolate piece of jade which also lay in

the shade of his tree.

This piece of jade was in the fashion of a delicate bracelet,

of a kind the priest"s sister liked to wear. His curiosity

aroused by this, he picked up the jade, and was astonished

when it began to speak to him.

„Sir Priest," the stone said, „perhaps a tale will help your

meal settle, and pass the cold night more agreeably." The

priest agreed, and the jade told him the story which was

inscribed upon it.

So moved was the priest by the jade"s tale, he copied it out

from beginning to end as the stone told it to him. Here it is:

Under a Dynasty which the jade leaves unnamed, two

Generals had greatly distinguished themselves in battle.

These Generals were brothers, by the names of Zhao and

Gao, and they were the favourites of the Emperor and lived

with him in his great palace at Chang"an. They are the heroes

of this tale.

These men, these brothers, divided between them the

virtues of a warrior. Zhao was stronger than two oxen, heavy

of feature, and a more powerful man the Emperor had never

seen. Gao was fleet of foot, and with the agility of any

monkey, but his features were fine and well turned.

One day, the Emperor bade his Generals bring to him the

most learned priests and scholars in the Empire. Gao ran the

length and breadth of the Empire, taking the Emperor"s

orders to every school and temple in every city of the Seven

Kingdoms. In this way, one thousand six hundred and forty

priests and scholars were prepared when Zhao arrived to

carry them all to the Emperor"s palace.

„Great Majesty," the Generals said, „here are the priests and

scholars you bade us bring to you."

The Emperor remained as aloof and regal as befits Heaven"s

representative on Earth. He retreated with the priests and

scholars, and for ten years the Emperor was not seen, not

even by his two favourite Generals.

During these long years, made sad by the absence of their

beloved Emperor, the brothers took good care of the Empire.

They also loved and married, and became fathers to strong

sons, whose descendants would be Generals for ever more.

After those ten long years, the Emperor once again called

the brothers to his side. „Loyal Generals," the Emperor said,

„you have done well to do my bidding while I have been

studying with these priests and scholars. Now I have a task

for you."

„Anything, Great Majesty," the Generals replied. The

Emperor smiled, pleased by their loyalty and their prowess at

doing his will. The Emperor pointed to the one thousand six

hundred and forty men of learning, and told his Generals to

put them all to the sword, that no-one else might learn from

them what he had learnt.

Being warriors, the work of dispatching men by the sword

was familiar and easy to the brothers. Gao slashed more

quickly than the eye could see, piercing ten in the time it

takes a man to blink. His brother Zhao clove men in two with

the tiniest gesture of his great sword.

Overcome with emotion, the Generals thanked the

Emperor, and begged him to give them new orders that they

might obey to please him further. „Test your soldiers," the

Emperor ordered, „and choose the eight thousand best among

them to be brought before me."

This the brothers did, and soon the eight thousand greatest

warriors in the Emperor"s army paraded before him. The

Emperor was pleased. „You will come with me," he said, „into

Heaven and Hell. You will be my bodyguards for ever."

Having so engaged these men, the Emperor sought to have

them prove themselves to him, and so he instructed them to

take every scroll and book and map from every library in the

Empire. When the Eight Thousand had gathered this proud

and eclectic population, the Emperor had the frightened

books built into the shape of a hill. „Now," he told the books,

„your secrets will remain secret, and I will guard them well,

and you will never tell."

So saying, the Emperor had his beloved Generals join the

brightness of flame to the dryness of the paper, that none of

the garrulous books could divulge secrets that only the

Emperor should know. Only one brave scroll remained: a

map, which was the Emperor"s closest companion and

dearest friend.

Led by the map, the Emperor took the Generals and the

Eight Thousand to the Islands of Japan. There, under his

leadership, and the brothers" skills at warfare, the warriors

triumphed over all who stood against them. The loyal map

had brought its Emperor safely to the castle of a great

Shogun, who was also a priest. It was this man whom the

Emperor wished to speak with.

The Shogun-priest"s castle was built upon a mound of

stones two hundred and twelve feet high, and guarded by one

hundred thousand samurai. The Emperor"s eight thousand

warriors were each worth twenty samurai, and quickly

turned the tide of battle. The samurai were cut down easily

by the best warriors in Asia.

The Shogun-priest laughed at this, for the samurai"s duty

was to die for his master. Impressed by the Emperor and the

Eight Thousand, the Shogun held a great feast to celebrate

that they had passed the test he set them.

The Shogun then gave the Emperor a great gift, telling the

Emperor all that he needed to know to fulfil his dreams. He

also taught the Emperor to read the stars in the sky, to know

when Heaven was closest to the Earth, and most reachable.

The Shogun then left his castle.

When the Generals came to him once more, the Emperor

rewarded them with amulets given to him by the Shogun-

priest. Zhao received a most marvellous piece of jade, with

the inscription: „Lose me not, forget me not, Eternal life shall

be your lot." Gao was awarded a wonderful gold amulet, upon

which also were certain words inscribed. On it was written:

„Let not this token wander from your side, And youth peren-

nial shall with you abide."

Watching the stars as the Shogun-priest had taught him,

the Emperor decided that it was time that he, his Generals,

and the eight thousand best warriors in the world, took their

place in Heaven. And so, the Emperor entered Heaven upon

his return from the Islands of Japan.

His son, and the brothers who were Generals, followed the

instructions that the Emperor had given to them, and which

he had received from the one thousand six hundred and forty

priests and scholars.

And the Generals, loyal and fearless as warriors should be,

followed their Emperor in all things, and with strength and

quickness of fist, foot and sword, conquered Heaven and

Hell. All but one.

And there the Taoist priest stopped writing, with the rising

of the sun. The cold night had indeed passed agreeably. But

the priest"s curiosity was not sated, and he asked the jade:

„What of the one you mentioned? What of his tale?"

„If you return this way another night," the jade told him,

that tale will pass that night as agreeably as this one, for it is

another story."

CHAPTER ONE

Executioners from Shaolin

l

Hoof beats and heartbeats blended into a frantic drumming

in Cheng"s ears. His horse wasn"t foaming at the mouth yet,

but he could tell it was only a matter of time - and not a long

time, at that.

The Mongols used to say that a fast horse under you, and

the wind in your hair, were among the best things in life.

Maybe that was true if you rode simply for pleasure. As he

rode in flight Cheng thought the cold air stinging his eyes,

and the bouncing of the horse"s strong back hammering at

his spine, were the least pleasant necessities he knew of.

A glance over his shoulder showed that his companions

were keeping up with him, the faces of their mounts con-

torted in wild effort. Like himself, the men all wore loose

shirts and dark trousers. Also like himself, they were all

festooned with daggers, swords and bows. Beyond them there

was no sign of the expected pursuit.

Cheng slowed his horse. His companions followed suit as

they came alongside. „You think we"ve put enough distance

between us and that caravan?" Li asked, wiping the dust from

his scarred face.

„Yes," Cheng said. „I see no horses following us. Anyway,

ours need to rest before they drop dead under us." He looked

up at a leaden sky that was darkening by the moment. „We"ll

need to find shelter, and soon."

Li looked up and nodded. „Bad one coming."

„As bad as I"ve seen," Cheng agreed.

He looked round at his group. Nine men, including himself,

and nine horses. They would need more than a woodsman"s

hut to shelter in. A full-sized farm would be best, but there

was nothing of that nature in sight.

Fields stretched for miles, with only the occasional patch of

bushes to offer any kind of cover. To the left a hill rose, its

sides scattered with trees.

„What about there?" Li asked. „There must be a cave, or

something."

Cheng considered the hill. It wasn"t large enough to be a

mountain, but it was a good enough size to have a cave or

two in which they could hide. „All right. Li, you tie the horses

under cover. We"ll look for more shelter."

It didn"t take long for Cheng to find a low cave halfway up the

hill. It was wide, but they"d have to bend almost double to get

inside it. That didn"t bother Cheng too much; the ceiling

would be at a comfortable enough height when he and his

friends were sitting around a fire or sleeping on a dry floor.

Pang worked his magic with flint, tinder and a dry tree

branch. In moments, the torch was handed to Cheng and he

crawled into the cave. There was no sign of animal tracks on

the dry earthen floor, and certainly no sign of people, but this

didn"t mean there were no hidden dangers. Cheng thrust the

torch out in front of him, pushing it into every nook and

cranny to check for snakes - which were only too happy to

reside in such places.

Once he was satisfied that the cave was safe he called the

others inside. The horses would have to shelter under the

trees, which were already beginning to sway in the wind. So

long as lightning didn"t hit one that was close to a horse, the

animals should be safe enough. Just to be on the safe side,

Cheng brought his saddle pouch into the cave with him. The

other men did likewise, none of them willing to risk losing

any of the loot they had gained that morning.

Cheng watched with a smile as the lads stored their stolen

goods and weapons in a natural alcove as far from the cave

entrance as possible. Some of them then set to skinning rab-

bits, while Pang built a proper fire over which they could

cook meat, and which would keep them warm while they

slept.

Outside, the rain had started and the trees were thrashing

around as if under the guiding hands of lion dancers. Inside,

the smell of wood smoke and roasting meat and spices failed

to mask the smell of dusty, unwashed clothes and bodies.

Cheng grinned to himself thinking of how he would buy

fine silks with his share of the loot, and girls to wash and

pamper him. He found himself a slope of earth against the

cave wall and settled down to wait out the storm. The earth

would be more comfortable than rock against his back.

The low murmur of his companions" chat faded as he began

to doze off. He could almost see nubile bath attendants wait-

ing to greet him as he started to dream.

Suddenly, the earth supporting his back crumbled and he

fell, his shoulder skipping painfully over stubs of rock. His

companions laughed.

„Shut your damned faces," Cheng snapped. He had landed

on his side, and pulled himself up into a sitting position.

„Anyone who thinks..." He fell silent, realising that he and the

earth had fallen through the wall. There was a new and

irregular gap, starkly black in the fire-lit wall. „What the hell?"

Pang stuck a branch into the fire, then brought it over in

his meaty fist and poked it into the opening. „It looks like a

tunnel. I think there are steps."

Cheng took the torch and threw it, carefully, as far as it

would go. Then he looked in and saw that Pang was right.

Earth and rubble half-filled the rocky passageway. It sloped

downwards, and below it steps were carved into the floor. The

torch, still alight, was on one of them.

„What the hell is this place?" Pang asked.

Cheng wished he had an answer for the big man, but he

had grown up the son of a farmer, not a builder. „Let"s take a

look and see."

Cheng and his companions looked around in awe, and tried

to breathe. The air was musty and ancient, thick with dust

that it was easy to believe had come from old bones. Pillars

encrusted in the mineral deposits of centuries stretched

either up to, or down from, the ceiling - Cheng wasn"t sure

which. The encrustations were flaky, and reminded him of

windblown leaves sticking to tree trunks. The entire place

was a forest of stone.

The bandits, all of whom now carried torches, spread out

through the cave. There were no furnishings, and no lost

piles of treasure. If Cheng had to guess, he"d say it was

probably a meeting place, or perhaps an exercise hall.

„Follow the walls," he said quietly. The acoustics of the cave

were such that his words would carry. „There must be other

chambers somewhere in here."

The others nodded and spread out. From the way the light

of their torches seemed to shrink, Cheng could tell the space

was vast.

A movement above him caught Cheng"s eye, and when he

looked up the breath caught in his throat. A silver flash like a

shooting star was fading between the stone trees, and he

could see bright, clear stars.

For a moment he thought the cave must be open to the

sky, until he remembered the rainstorm outside and the

height of the hill above him. There were indeed stars above

him, in the familiar constellations, but they were glinting

with reflected light from the bandits" torches. Hoping they

were jewels, Cheng held his own torch as far aloft as he

could, and squinted.

The stars were some kind of metal set into the roof of the

cave. And it looked like silver. Not silver ore, either, but

refined and polished silver, which must surely have been put

there deliberately.

„Pang! Li!"

The two men came running, and the rest of the group, curi-

ous, followed them. Cheng pointed upwards. „Have you seen

this? It looks like silver."

„Silver? The gods must be with us tonight!" Li said

cheerfully.

Pang shivered slightly. „I don"t know about this." The other

bandits looked at him. „This place, it"s full of ghosts. Can"t

you feel them?"

„No," Cheng lied. The place was spooky, but why let that get

in the way of earning a living?

„I can. This place is old, Cheng." Pang touched the nearest

pillar gently, running his hand along the mineral bark. „It

feels like something that was here before the rest of the

world." He hesitated. „Why are there no bats in here?"

„I don"t know."

„Maybe because only ghosts could have lived in something

so ancient."

Nobody laughed at Pang"s tone, or at the idea of ghosts.

„I"m going back up to keep an eye on the fire. I don"t like

this." With that, the big man turned back towards the tunnel.

A couple of the other men looked uncertain, then followed

Pang"s lead.

„More for the rest of us," Cheng said. He put his hands

together as a stirrup for Li. „Can you get one of those stars

loose?"

Li nodded and put his foot in Cheng"s hands. Cheng hefted

him up, and leant back against a pillar. Li lifted his other foot

on to Cheng"s shoulder, and drew out a small dagger. When

he touched its point to the surface of the star Cheng saw the

silver ripple.

Li jerked back and fell on to the ground. He glared at the

tip of his dagger. „Quicksilver." He stood up and looked at the

ceiling. „But how? Why doesn"t it rain down?"

„Quicksilver?" Cheng echoed. That explained the liquid

ripple, but Li was right to wonder how it came to be on the

ceiling. Cheng didn"t have an explanation for him, and

momentarily wondered if Pang might have been right about

the ghosts. Then there was another flicker across the

artificial starscape; a pale wash of quicksilver, thin enough to

be all but transparent, flowed from constellation to

constellation. Cheng stopped wondering: Pang was right.

„Hell"s teeth," he whispered. „Let"s get out of this cursed -"

A cry and a solid thud from the direction of the tunnel shut

him up. Had a ghost...? No, had Pang slipped or had the

tunnel caved in? A fallen torch was burning on the floor and,

in its light, Cheng could see Pang lying on the ground. Blood

matted his hair, but he was still alive, moaning faintly.

There was no sign of the two men who had joined him in

his flight. Cheng didn"t need to ask what had happened - a

lean young man wearing the robes of a martial monk was

already stepping into the cavern. He twirled a staff guardedly,

and stepped aside to let in a muscle-bound ox of a monk who

was carrying a pair of nunchuks. An older man, undoubtedly

their leader, followed them. He was unarmed and Cheng

found this slightly worrying. The older monk - an abbot? -

was either relying on the others to protect him, or he was a

master. From the way he carried himself, with an air that

said he had nothing to prove, Cheng was certain it was the

latter.

The abbot stepped forward, casual but alert. „Bandits! Give

yourselves up now, and I will see that you are not executed."

Years breaking rocks under the sun and eating rats in a

light-less dungeon didn"t seem much of an improvement over

death to Cheng. His companions" attitude was similar, and

Cheng could see and hear them drawing their weapons as he

pulled a sabre from his belt. „You"re outnumbered, monk," he

said. „Leave now and I"ll let you keep the same number of

limbs as you had when you came in."

The abbot didn"t reply. Instead, a flick of his foot sent

Pang"s fallen torch spinning towards Cheng"s face. Cheng cut

it aside with his sword, but the moving flame had wrecked

his night vision and he found himself momentarily blind in

the darkness of the cave.

He moved instinctively, dodging behind a pillar he knew

was on his left. The cave erupted with the sounds of running

feet, steel on steel and wood on flesh. This last sound, he

knew, was from that damned staff carried by the lean monk,

who could take on several people at once with it - striking

with one end to the front then the other behind in the blink

of an eye, and then immediately swinging it like a club.

As his eyes readjusted, Cheng thought he"d been tipped

into one of the hells. Firelight waved and spun, causing

shadows and darkness to tumble, as a couple of the bandits

used their torches as weapons and swung them at the

monks. He ignored them, and headed for the lean monk with

the staff.

As Cheng had feared, he already had two fallen bandits at

his feet. Cheng darted forward, but the monk still managed

to crack a bandit on the forehead and in the groin with

opposite ends of the staff, and swing it up in time to block

Cheng"s sabre. The wood was old and hard, and almost as

dense as iron. The sabre bit into it a little, but the damned

staff didn"t break.

The monk twisted, and Cheng had to let go of his sabre and

twist away to avoid being jabbed in the face with the tip of

the wood. Then Li appeared between him and the monk,

catching the staff in crossed butterfly swords. „Thanks,"

Cheng whispered, not wanting to distract Li.

The big monk, who was broader across the shoulders than

even the bear-like Pang, was duelling with his nunchuks

against those wielded by young Ho-Wei. There was no sign of

the abbot, and Cheng hoped against hope that one of his

men had put the old bastard down.

He bent to scoop up his sabre, thinking he would help Li to

teach the staff-wielder a lesson. As he straightened he saw a

blur out of the corner of his eye. Pain exploded through his

mind, overloading all his senses before his brain could finish

telling him that the blur was an incoming roundhouse kick.

His friends and enemies momentarily danced horizontally out

from a wall. Cheng blinked, and realised he was lying on the

floor, not leaning against the wall.

He pulled himself to the wall of the cave, dodging instinc-

tively without waiting to see whether or not the monk was

lashing out at him again. His vision cleared, and the

throbbing in his head became the stirrings of rage.

It was the abbot, of course. Cheng twisted and rolled to his

feet, lashing out with his fists. He had no idea where his

sabre had landed. The abbot slid aside without any visible

effort, letting all Cheng"s punches and kicks connect only

with thin air. Then a flick of his wrist tapped Cheng"s ear

with what felt like the impact of a horse"s hoof.

This time Cheng stayed down, his arms and legs refusing

his aching brain"s order to lift him up. From where he lay he

could see Li finally take a blow to the back of his knees and

crumple. He couldn"t see Ho-Wei or anyone else, but he

didn"t hear any more sounds of fighting. One way or the

other, the fight was over.

A tremendous weight sank into the small of Cheng"s back,

and the abbot grabbed his hands and pulled them behind

him. „You should have listened," he told him. Cheng felt taut

rope against his wrists. He tried to struggle free, but only

succeeded in scraping his skin painfully against the rough

bindings the abbot was putting on him.

He could see the lean monk tying Li"s wrists. Cheng raged

inwardly - he and Li were being made ready to be taken, like

pigs to the butcher - but he was held too tightly to break free

and give the abbot the kicking he deserved. „These men are

good companions, not animals to be slaughtered," he snarled

into the floor. „If you think differently, then it"s you who

deserve to be executed." The abbot didn"t bother to reply.

Maybe it was the blows he"d taken to his head, but Cheng

thought he saw the false stars in the ceiling glow brighter for

a moment, and the strange ripple of light pass more strongly

overhead. The monk binding Li"s wrists must have noticed

this because he froze in the middle of his knot-tying.

Hoping that his own captor was similarly distracted, Cheng

twisted against his grip and was suddenly free of it. His

hands were solidly tied behind his back, but his legs were

still unbound and he used them to roll aside. The abbot

didn"t seem to notice but, after a moment, he straightened

and started to turn away.

Cheng"s blood was boiling with the desire to strike back at

the young monk and kill him, but he knew he couldn"t. He

simply wasn"t a match for the monks" power and their

training. The impotence he felt about this simply made his

blood boil even more.

As the abbot turned, Cheng caught a glimpse of his

features, and all thoughts of violence fled his mind. The

abbot"s expression was impassive, stunned, and he seemed

to freeze, but his eyes were filled with light - not the poetic

light of passionate emotion or vitality, but a soft, unnatural

fluorescence. They were like two candle flames casting faint

beams ahead of him.

Cheng had never seen anything like it, and never wanted to

again. The ghosts, he thought frantically. Pang had been

right, and the place was home to ghosts. Not peaceful shen,

the spirits of revered ancestors, but demonic kui seeking

vengeance upon the living for whatever misdeed they per-

ceived had been done to them.

Cheng thanked his lucky stars that the kui had taken over

the monks instead of him, and didn"t intend to give them a

chance to change their minds. He used his free but shaking

legs to push himself up against a pillar, and staggered for the

exit. Pang and the others had already gone, and Cheng could

see Li and Ho-Wei crawling towards the tunnel as fast as

their injuries would permit.

He didn"t stop to assist them - anyway, what could he do

with his hands bound? It wasn"t as if he could help them to

their feet, or carry one of them. He stumbled into the black-

ness of the tunnel, climbing up towards the light of the fire

Pang had built in the cave earlier. It provided a point to aim

for, though it didn"t help him to find the steps or avoid fallen

rocks.

Cheng slumped forward on to the rubble blocking the top

part of the tunnel and wriggled through into the cave. He

flopped on the earth floor and took a shuddering breath, the

relief of having got out of the accursed hall almost

overwhelming him. The freshness of the stormy air was

electrifying after the fug below. For a moment he thought

he"d burst into tears, but it didn"t quite come to that.

He heard horses departing outside, and instinctively knew

Pang and the others were making their getaway. He didn"t

even think of pausing to consider how he might grab the loot

lying by the fire. Instead, he went straight outside into the

cool night air. The loot was surely cursed now anyway, and

he had no further taste for it.

The rain had stopped, though the wind was still strong.

The eye of the storm was overhead and the sky was

temporarily clear. Cheng froze for an instant, staring once

again at the sky. The moon had gone and its place in the

heavens was marked only by a hole in the stars. The night

was as enclosed and dark as the cave behind him.

Then a silver arc appeared in the blackness, like the white

of an eye appearing as the eyelid parted on waking. It was the

moon emerging from hiding, casting a gentle silver light on

the hillside.

Cheng ran awkwardly, his hands still tied, stumbling

towards his horse. There was a sword in a scabbard hanging

from the saddle and he was able to cut his bindings with it.

Then he mounted the horse and galloped off downhill, not

caring which direction he was going in. All that mattered was

that he was heading away from the unnatural cave and its

ghosts.

2

A few miles ahead, the mountain of Baiyun rose up and

melted into the pale, fading light, and the young man who

walked hand in hand with his girl was glad not to be going

that far. It was a pleasant enough evening for a walk in the

countryside, the air fresh, the warmth of the setting sun

matching the warmth of their companionship.

A short way ahead the cart track turned and, beneath the

trees, became a shadowy, overgrown path. To his surprise,

the girl stepped off the road and tugged on his hand to follow

her. Come on, I brought you this way for a reason."

The young man couldn"t really know what the reason was

without being a mind-reader, but he could make an educated

guess that was at least partly a wish. Feeling his blood buzz,

he followed her.

A hundred yards or so from the track, the path reached a

flat space in front of an old temple.

„Beautiful, isn"t it?" Miss Law asked.

The youth nodded. It was, in its way. It was old and

tumbledown, but also shaded and full of the richest textures

an artist could dream of. Then he looked up to where the roof

beams hung down like broken teeth, and felt the temple"s

beauty fade into intimidation.

Fei-Hung tried not to tilt his head too far back as he looked

at the broken beams and precarious walls, not wanting Miss

Law to see that he was nervous about their surroundings.

„This is your little hideaway?"

She smiled, and sat demurely on a piece of broken wall

near the shape of an old doorway. Her skirt clung to her

thighs in a way that drove any fears from the young man"s

mind. „Oh, yes. No-one ever comes here, because they think

it"s haunted. So we"ll be undisturbed."

„Good, I"d hate to be disturbed." He sat beside her and

embraced her happily. „I"m glad we"re alone." He seemed to

recall he had practised the speech in his mind over the past

few days, but the relevant part of his brain seemed to be

empty. „I wanted to..."

„So do I."

„You don"t know what I was going to say."

She cupped his face in her hand. „Doesn"t matter. I"d say

yes to anything you wanted."

„Anything?" His head felt as if it was floating.

„Yes. I love you, you know."

He tensed, startled. He had known, of course. Or at least

hoped. He still felt as if his head was floating. His stomach,

weighing a ton, tried to drag it down. „In that case..." He

kissed her rather than continue.

Their conversation became much less vocal from then on,

words replaced by touches, and sensations, and emotions. If

there was anything better in life than to make love under the

stars of a clear sky, the young man couldn"t imagine what it

might be.

The night grew cool, but it wasn"t cold and the warmth

each gave the other was enough to be comfortable with. In

turn, the comfort was enough for them to relax and drift off

to sleep.

The stars wheeled imperceptibly overhead, and the animals

of the countryside ignored the sleeping humans as they went

about their nightly routines. In every way it was a safe, quiet

and calm night, ideal for lovers spending it together in the

countryside.

In every way except one.

The young man was startled into wakefulness. At first he

thought a bird or animal had made a noise in its quest for

food or a mate, but he heard nothing that he recognised as

coming from the local fauna. Instead, there was a strange

sound; a rushing, hooting noise as if all the demons in hell

were moaning in agony. What is that?"

Miss Law woke with a slight scream. She collected herself.

„I don"t know. I"ve never heard such a thing before."

The lovers looked at each other, each seeing the same

thought playing across the other"s face. „This place is

haunted!" they exclaimed together.

Fei-Hung took Miss Law"s hand and led her towards the

nearest gap in the temple wall. Suddenly, the air darkened in

front of them and a pair of locked wooden doors appeared out

of the darkness, blocking their path. An eerie light flared

above, washing over the temple, though with no flame to cast

it.

The pair turned and ran for the nearest empty doorway. As

they fled, the unnatural noise faded. And the instant they

passed out of the old haunted temple the sound ceased alto-

gether. Despite this, the frightened young people didn"t stop

running until they reached the familiar tower of Zhenhailou,

well inside the city.

Only then did they stop for breath.

„What do we do?" Miss Law asked.

„Ask my father; he"ll know what to do."

„Does he know about us?"

„He"ll claim not to, but he"s not stupid. Come on."

The young man led the way, dodging through the empty

streets. Miss Law followed, keeping up with him easily

despite her restrictive skirt. It didn"t take long to reach the

gates to the compound Fei-Hung called home. They were

already locked for the night and the pair had to scale the wall

to get inside. Luckily, it wasn"t high.

The young man ran straight to the door of his father"s room

and hammered on the nearest wooden beam with his fist.

„Father! Father!"

After a moment Wong Kei-Ying slid the door aside and

came out, tying a robe tightly about himself. „What is it?

Bandits? Police?"

„No, no, it"s all right. I mean, it"s all right here, but we just

saw..." The youth hesitated, unable to put a name to what

they had seen. „We heard something in the old haunted

temple."

„Haunted temple? And what were you doing there?" The

older man"s eyes darted to Miss Law and back.

„Well, I... We wanted somewhere to..." Fei-Hung wished he

could think of a phrase that wasn"t embarrassing for either

Miss Law or himself.

„I understand well enough. I was your age myself once." Kei-

Ying turned to Miss Law. „You must be Miss Law. I spoke to

your mother at yum cha the other day. She says good things

about you."

Something in his tone suggested that the definition of good

things didn"t extend to going to haunted temples with boys,

and the young man winced slightly.

„I hope Fei-Hung has been a proper gentleman in his deal-

ings with you."

„Yes, Wong-sifu," Miss Law said. „It was my idea to see the

old temple. I"d heard so much about it, and had no idea it

was so late."

Kei-Ying nodded, his face softening into an almost-smile.

He led them back into the main room, and sat beside a tea

service that was kept permanently ready. He poured out

three cups. „It"s just an old temple."

„Wong-sifu, it really was haunted."

„Really?" He looked suspiciously at Fei-Hung. „Noises in the

dark? The settling of stone?"

Fei-Hung shook his head. „I swear it. There was a wailing

from all the souls in hell, and then this dark gate appeared

out of thin air. Father, you must believe me!"

Wong-sifu"s eyes narrowed and he leant forward slightly,

sniffing. „I believe," he said dryly, „I smell wine."

„Well," Fei-Hung admitted, „I had just had supper before we

went, and a cup or two of wine to wash it down. I"m not

drunk."

Without warning, Wong-sifu tossed a cup towards Fei-

Hung"s head. The young man caught it deftly, and put it

down. His father nodded to himself, apparently satisfied by

the test. „All right, you"re not drunk. We will go and take a

look at this gate of yours in the morning."

Fei-Hung couldn"t believe his ears - because his father had

agreed to go to the temple, but also because he was going to

wait so long before doing so. The demonic thing was there

now. „The morning?"

Kei-Ying nodded, sipping his tea. „When it"s light, and the

wine has worn off, we will see everything more clearly."

Fei-Hung knew better than to press his father further, and

was anyway in two minds about going back to a haunted

temple in the dark. Besides, he still had Miss Law"s company

as they took tea, and that was more important.

When his father had returned to bed the young people sat

outside on the veranda overlooking the courtyard. The night

again seemed calm and pleasant. There were plenty of lamps

to banish the shadows, and perhaps even the memory of

them.

„Your father doesn"t believe us at all, does he?" Miss Law

sighed.

Fei-Hung laughed, but not loudly enough to wake anyone.

„If he didn"t believe us at all, he"d have given me a clip round

the ear for waking him."

He looked north in the direction of the old temple. The city

was in the way, but this didn"t stop his thoughts from

returning there. Something had happened, and he wondered

whether a mere mortal such as himself could ever

understand what it was.

3

Ian Chesterton had finished shaving, and was patting his

face dry with a towel, when something in the air changed.

It was some kind of vibration from the engines deep in the

bowels of the Ship. He never noticed it while in flight, but had

been aboard the TARDIS long enough to know that when he

became aware of this subtle change a landing was imminent.

It was funny how one could get used to the strangest

circumstances. A couple of years ago he had thought

teaching basic science at Coal Hill School and living in a

small flat in Shoreditch were normal. Now he thought his flat

would seem dark and mysterious compared with the familiar

sterility of the Ship, and his pupils almost as odd as the

beings he"d met on more planets than he could count.

He pulled on a jacket and left his room. He hurried towards

the doors to the console room, almost bumping into Barbara

Wright as she emerged from her room. This had never been

unusual, as she used to teach history in a classroom just a

couple of doors along from his own.

„You felt it too," he said.

„Yes," she said with a smile. „I wonder where it"ll be this

time? And when." Together, they went into the Ship"s control

room.

The console room was as big as a Coal Hill School class-

room, and was surrounded by a bright and clinical white that

somehow never got dusty or dirty. A bank of computers and

instruments lined one of the walls, behind a glass partition,

while glowing roundels were indented into the others.

Furniture from various periods of history was dotted around:

an ornate ormolu clock, a Louis XIV chair, a gramophone.

At the centre was a large, hexagonal control board - even

after two years of living within its sphere of influence Ian was

still conscious of the power and mystery it radiated. Six

panels of controls and instruments surrounded a glass

column filled with strange tubes and filaments, and an

energy that Ian could feel even if he could neither see nor

name it.

The Doctor was already fussing over the control board.

With his Edwardian frock coat and checked trousers, he

looked almost as out of place as his furniture against all the

futuristic technology.

Vicki, the other member of the Ship"s company - Ian had

never quite decided whether they were crew or passengers -

was already in the console room, lounging on a chaise

longue. She was young enough to be one of Ian and

Barbara"s pupils, but Ian was glad she wasn"t in his class.

For one thing, she came from five hundred years in his future

when the science he could teach would be as out of date as

medieval alchemy was to himself.

„There you are, Chesterton," the Doctor said. „Barbara, I

think we are shortly about to land."

„Have you any idea where, or when?"

„No, I"m sorry, young man. We shall just have to wait until

the Ship has landed, and then perhaps we"ll be able to tell."

As if his words had been an instruction, the centre column

slowed to a halt.

Ian stepped out of the Ship into the overgrown remains of an

old building. Moonlight picked out pale fungi growing on

stones, while the undergrowth wrapped itself in darkness.

The Ship hummed softly behind him, like a purring cat that

had found a comfortable nook in which to rest for a while.

„There"s no-one around," Ian called back. „It looks like some

kind of ruined temple or something." He looked up into the

night. The familiar constellation of Orion looked back down

at him. Ian smiled, greeting this old friend. „It"s Earth!"

Barbara emerged, looking hopeful. „Earth? Are you sure?"

„Look at the constellations, Barbara." Ian pointed. „Orion;

there"s the Pole Star; the Plough over there. All constellations

as you can see them from Earth." He squinted. „Mind you, we

must be a bit further south than England."

She squeezed his hand. „It"s always nice to be back."

„Yes, I know what you mean." He turned as Vicki and the

Doctor came out, the latter pausing to lock the doors of the

TARDIS. „It"s Earth," he repeated.

„But of course, dear boy," the Doctor crowed. „But of course.

This is exactly what I"d hoped for. And, what"s more, with any

luck we are in your 1960s."

Ian"s heart caught in his throat, and he could see that

Barbara also looked hopeful. Both of them had heard that

particular prediction before, however, and had been let down

often enough not to let excitement run away with them. „Are

you sure?"

The Doctor nodded.

„But how?" Ian asked.

„Well, I didn"t tell you, because I didn"t want to disappoint

you if it didn"t work, but as we left Rome I tried to make the

shortest increment - that is to say, the shortest journey - that

I could. That way, I hoped we should travel in time only, and

not space." The Doctor gestured around him with a

triumphant smile. „And, as you can see, it has worked!"

Ian wanted to believe it had worked perfectly, but simply

couldn"t. It just wasn"t in him to do so. „You"ll forgive me if I

wait to see the morning"s paper. Oh, this is Earth all right,

and I"ll take your word for it that we"ve travelled forward in

time. But we might just as easily have arrived in 1940, or the

twenty-first century."

The Doctor was slightly deflated. „Well, yes, that is true,

unfortunately. There"s no way to tell exactly how far forward

we"ve travelled. We will just have to go out and meet someone

who can tell us the date, won"t we?"

„And hope it isn"t Hitler, or someone like that."

„Oh, don"t fuss so," the Doctor snapped. „Anyway, it"s far too

late at night to go round knocking people up. I suggest we get

some rest until dawn, and then explore."

Vicki looked downcast, but Ian was satisfied with the

arrangement. „Sounds good to me, Doctor." He ushered Vicki

back into the TARDIS before she could go off and get herself

into trouble. He paused in the doorway and looked back at

Barbara. „Are you coming?"

„Yes." Barbara stretched her arms, taking a deep breath of

the wonderful air. „At least it"s peaceful here," she said.

„It does feel that way, doesn"t it?" Ian admitted. „Something

in the air perhaps. Or this place."

„The place, yes. There"s a sort of... I don"t know...

spirituality about it. You can"t really imagine anything bad

happening here."

Ian stepped back out of the Ship. He didn"t say anything,

not wanting to disappoint Barbara by telling her that there

was as likely to be unpleasantness in any one place where

there were people as in any other. He took her hand instead,

and squeezed it. „A peaceful place sounds good to me."

4

His head felt as if it had burst like a soap bubble, and he was

certain that if he could see anything other than blackness it

would surely be the shade of blood. The blackness had

crushed him and jammed his lungs solid. Every bone in his

body burnt inside its sheath of flesh, but his head burnt

worst of all.

The blackness rolled around him, then faded above him.

Was this death, allowing him to float up to heaven on a

breeze? The stars began to wink, each point of light making

his head throb. He could hear things over the din in his

head: hooves splashing in mud; screams, and the jarring

clash of steel on steel; wood snapping and the crackle of

burning. His hands flailed out, slapping against the dry

darkness that had broken him, as he tried to pull himself

along.

His legs were buried somewhere and he knew he had to

exhume them, but whatever grave held him below the waist

wasn"t letting go without a fight. A noise was coming from

somewhere nearby. „Major!" it called, „Sir, where are you?" He

wished the major would hurry up and answer; the repetition

was beginning to irritate him. At least there were people

around. If he could only breathe, he could shout back to

them.

„There he is," another voice called, closer. Then there were

bodies around him, stamping on the ground. Random words

and phrases emanated from them: „... didnae see him... at the

double, Sergeant... horse... they come back..."

Then the grave that held him relaxed its grip and he pulled

himself free, gorging himself on smoke-scented air until he

thought he might be sick with it.

He let himself relax as his breathing steadied. To one side

he saw two men standing by his grave. A four-legged, hoofed

grave. He coughed, tasting blood, but the tingle in his gums

told him it came from there, not further down. The nearest

man knelt. He was short and lined, but tough-looking, with a

nose that surely hadn"t started its life in the shape it now

was. Like the other man, this one wore a uniform: black

trousers, dark tunic, and white belt and gloves. His tunic was

dirty and torn, his face scratched in several places.

„Are ye all right, Major?" the man asked.

So, he was a major. „I think so," the major said slowly.

The man turned to talk to a younger, leaner man with

lighter hair and a Vandyke beard that didn"t belong on

someone so baby-faced. „Captain Logan, sir," he reported, „I

think the major"s all right."

„Very good, Anderson."

The major rolled over and drew his knees up under him,

preparing to stand.

„Sir," Anderson protested, „d"ye really think you should be

standing up? The way that horse rolled, your legs..."

The major stood. His legs ached, but they supported him.

They weren"t broken, which was good enough for him. In any

case, his head felt so bad that he doubted a broken bone

would even be noticeable by comparison.

„Bloody hell," Anderson exclaimed. „How can you stand up?"

„I"m all right, Anderson." He tried to focus on the bearded

officer. „Logan, what...?"

„We broke them, sir," the young captain said, quietly and

reassuringly. He beamed. „You were magnificent, sir. But one

of them shot your horse down. When he rolled over on you I

feared the worst."

The major was tempted to ask who „they" were, but some

instinct stopped him. He"d said he was all right, and didn"t

want to worry these men who were so concerned about him.

„Well, it isn"t the worst. Not for me, anyway. The horse?"

„Neck broken, sir," Anderson burred.

The major nodded his understanding, though he could

barely feel his head move. He could barely feel anything

beyond the burning agony that throbbed between his ears.

He might not remember what had just happened, but he

knew a concussion when he felt one. He turned, and saw the

source of the smoke that tainted his every breath.

The flames were visible several miles from the town, casting

an angry glow against the smoke overhead. The smell of

burning clay as well as wood smoke was already in the air.

On the gentle slope leading to the town the earth was

churned and damp, and a few injured or dead horses were

slumped where they had fallen. A number of boxes, baskets

and weapons were scattered around, though there was no

sign of bodies.

„Any fatalities?" the major asked.

„Only you, we thought," Logan said. „The bandits decided

discretion was the better part of valour, and ran for their

lives."

„Better than nothing, I suppose. Lucky we were here."

„Too late for Qiang-Ling," Logan said sadly, indicating the

town. „God alone knows where their militia was."

„Wi" the bandits, probably," Anderson muttered, just loud

enough to be heard. „Sleekit buggers, they are."

Logan shook his head. „No, I don"t think so. But they

certainly would have been no match for a bandit column that

size."

„Perhaps we should go and ask them," the major suggested.

„I"ll need a new horse anyway."

„You can take mine," Logan offered.

„No, that"s all right. I think the walk will help me get going

again."

Logan nodded curtly and turned to Anderson. „Form up the

column, and follow us in. I"ll go with the major and find him

another horse for the journey back to Kwantung."

„Yes, sir." Anderson walked back to where the major could

now make out two horses. He mounted one and led the other

by the reins back into the darkness.

Logan handed the major a conical helmet with a pagri

wrapped around it, and no plume in the space for one. There

was a fist-sized dent in it.

„It looks like I feel," the major said, cracking a slight smile.

It stung to do so. He decided to carry the helmet under his

arm, doubting that it would fit well on his head anyway.

A nice soft pillow would fit him better, but he had no idea

how many miles it was back to his quarters in Kwantung.

Even before the major and Captain Logan entered the town

they could hear the wails of women and children, who were

pawing frantically at the rums, over the sound of the fires.

The major had to stop to fashion a rough mask out of cloth

and tie it round his mouth and nose. He had no illusions that

it would keep the smell of smoke and charred flesh out of his

nostrils, but with any luck it should prevent his throat being

scorched into uselessness.

The town gates were off their hinges and lying askew on the

road. Flames cast enough light for the major to see his way

by, but at the same time created dancing shadows among the

debris that constantly strove to trick and beguile him into

taking a tumble.

A chain of men, women and children was hauling pails of

water through the streets to the buildings where the fires still

burnt brightest. Some of the men wore the robes and basket-

like hats of the town"s militia. They glared at the two British

officers as if blaming them. The looks were forceful enough

for the major to start feeling guilty, even though he knew his

troops hadn"t done anything.

They also hadn"t arrived in time to prevent this happening.

„It looks as if we didn"t do much good here today, Captain."

Logan looked uncomfortable. In fact, he looked very much

as the major felt. „We did drive off the bandits, sir."

„Too late."

„The town has a militia. One has to wonder where they

were."

„Protecting their families, like any sensible men," the major

theorised.

A militiaman wearing a slightly finer uniform than the

other men was directing operations, and the major went over

to him.

„Excuse me," he began, in the Chinese he"d been learning

since he was posted here. He got no further.

„Where were your troops when these barbarians were

burning my town?"

„We were engaging the bandits outside. This is very much

an internal Chinese matter -"

„Pah," the officer spat. „ Gwailo lies and excuses as usual. If

you"re going to colonise a country, you might at least make a

show of instilling order."

„Look, Captain -" Logan began, but the major cut him off

with a gesture.

„We only want to help," he said to the militiaman. „We"ve lost

some horses, and will need replacements. I have fifty men

coming who can help fight these fires in exchange."

The officer grimaced. He clearly wanted to spurn the offer of

help, but was not stupid enough to risk his people"s lives by

doing so. „All right. There are horses in a corral at the end of

that street." He pointed. „Their stable has burnt down, so we

can"t look after them anyway You can take them. Ride them,

bury them, eat them, do what you like."

„Thank you." The major turned to Logan. „Get the men fallen

in: fire-fighting parties. It"s going to be a long night." The

moon crossed the sky at its usual stately pace, the stars

shifting around it. As it sank lower, so did the flames in

Qiang-Ling. The smoke cleared from the air and the major

was able to find a sheltered spot in which to rest, in the hope

that his head would stop feeling like a gong that had just

been struck.

As he looked up at the rising glow in the east for one last

time before closing his eyes, he felt a peculiar sensation. It

was a shiver under the skin, and a tingle in the bones -

someone walking over his grave. He felt for a confused

moment as if he had seen this dawn before, and was doomed

to repeat it.

Then his thoughts broke up, and dissolved into the soft

oblivion of sleep.

Ian Chesterton stood in the TARDIS doorway and looked out

at the pre-dawn tint of the eastern sky. He had managed to

rest well, before dressing in casual slacks, rollneck and

jacket. Barbara had found herself sensible shoes to go with a

plain trouser suit and Vicki wore baggy trousers and an

oversized sweater.

The Doctor himself had exchanged his usual frock coat for

a similar, but double-breasted variant that Ian supposed

would be a little warmer in the cool morning air. He rubbed

his hands together. „Now, let"s see where we are, eh?"

„Don"t the Ship"s instruments tell us?" Vicki asked. She

circled the console. „I mean, surely there"s a navigational

panel on here that can read where it is."

„Of course there is, child," the Doctor snapped. „But it is

rather generic, concerning itself more with which planet the

Ship is on than a specific geographical location."

„That"s a bit silly, isn"t it?"

„Yes, child, precisely so."

He ushered Vicki and Barbara out, past Ian, and turned to

lock the door behind him.

„But it makes things that bit more interesting, doesn"t it?"

he asked cheerfully. He pointed in an apparently random

direction with his walking cane. „Yes, much more interesting

than reading a dial."

Vicki laughed and moved on ahead. Ian exchanged a look

with Barbara. The old boy was incorrigible, it seemed. Her

expression mirrored his, agreeing with his judgement.

„Shall we promenade?" he asked, offering her his arm with a

grin.

„Thank you, kind sir," she said, with the kind of seriousness

that couldn"t be serious.

She linked her arm in his, and together they followed the

Doctor and Vicki.

Behind them, only a contented, wary vibration like the

purring of a sleeping cat remained.

5

The early-morning walk was pleasant, and felt both relaxing

and invigorating at the same time. Thankfully it wasn"t tiring,

and Barbara enjoyed it. It was just one of those times when

everything was right: a peaceful place, fresh air that was

neither too warm nor too cold and good company.

The company was important: the Doctor, always ready with

an explanation or some surprisingly youthful enthusiasm;

Vicki"s excitement at the new form of travel was infectious

and appreciated; most of all, there was Ian at her side. It

seemed so natural for him to be there that it felt as if he had

always been with her.

The road wasn"t well travelled at this hour, and the four of

them saw only two other people. Two men - a father and son,

judging by their resemblance to each other - passed them,

walking in the other direction. The pair looked curiously at

the time travellers, but didn"t say anything.

They were Chinese, and wore loose trousers and long

Chinese-style shirts, which at least provided a clue to where

the TARDIS had landed. The two men had shaved foreheads,

and their hair was tied back into long queues that fell down

past the napes of their necks. Barbara recognised this as a

style worn in the past, but over several centuries so there

was no way she could narrow it down to a likely year.

The smell of salt water, oil and fish rose in the air along

with the sun. Wherever they were Barbara knew it had to be

coastal, or perhaps an estuary. The road ahead breasted a

ridge and, as they climbed, the smell became stronger.

As light spread towards them she saw that she was right. A

city sprawled across the long east-west curve of a wide river,

which then flowed south, and widened still further, on the far

side of the city. Most of the buildings were low and brick-

built, with wooden or tiled roofs. Many were enclosed in their

own little courtyards and compounds.

Barbara couldn"t help thinking it was an organic, growing

city. It was solid at its heart, but new buildings spored out

towards its edges like a moss thriving on the moist side of a

rock.

Larger, more impressive buildings flowered here and there.

A rather Gothic-looking cathedral rose by the riverside, and

behind it, a few streets further inland, there was what looked

like a mosque. On a low hill to the left, overlooking the city,

there was a dark pagoda at least five storeys high. A wall had

been set up around it, patrolled by men in uniform, though

none of them was manning the cannon dotted around the

walls. There were more walled fortresses on the other islands

that dotted the river here and there.

Off in the distance there was a shipyard. All the ships

Barbara could see, either on the water or in the construction

yards, had sails, though there were also some vessels with

funnels belching steam. „Doctor," she said, „the design of

those ships is too primitive for the 1960s."

„No, no, you"re quite right," the Doctor admitted. „The late

nineteenth century, I should say."

„I think so too," Barbara agreed. „And that tower looks

Chinese."

She looked back at the dark pagoda, and tried to remember

what China had been like when the TARDIS had brought

them there before. Barbara Wright the Coal Hill

schoolteacher would have had no trouble recalling a trip to

the far side of the world, but Barbara the traveller in time

and space had seen so many wonders that a lot of them had

stopped being wonders. It saddened her for a moment.

„I think you"re right, Barbara," Ian said behind her. „We

passed two Chinamen earlier."

„Yes, wearing queues. I think they stopped that before the

war, didn"t they? But they"d certainly still be wearing them in

the nineteenth century." She kicked herself mentally. „I wish

we"d asked them where we were."

„Well, my dear," the Doctor said, „I"m sure we can find some-

one to tell us both the place and the date down there,

couldn"t we? And perhaps something for breakfast. I"m rather

peckish, I must say."

„Me too," Ian admitted. „And it"s not like this city is likely to

be full of Daleks or radiation. It"s only the Victorian era."

„It could be the Boxer rebellion," Barbara reminded her

companions. But she doubted it. The city looked too peaceful

for that, and some instinct told her that they had arrived

there earlier than the time of the Boxers.

As they made their way into the city they began to pass

more people and receive more glances. Nearer the waterfront

the streets were crowded, and uncomfortably so. Barbara

hated this as much as she hated rush hour in London - the

flow of people bouncing her around like the ball in a roulette

wheel. She held on to Ian"s hand, so that she wouldn"t be

pulled away by the pedestrian current and then have to

spend hours looking for him.

The time travellers attracted a few curious, suspicious or

downright hostile glances, but most people ignored them.

Barbara suspected that the glances - the curious ones, at

least - were more for their clothes than their race. There were

other white people around, mostly dressed in suits or

uniforms she recognised as being nineteenth century. There

were priests - Jesuits, by the style of their clothes - and some

French and American soldiers, though most of the soldiers

were in Victorian-style British uniforms. Some of the Chinese

also wore uniforms, and flattened hats like upturned

baskets. She didn"t know whether they were the local army or

the police. While the western soldiers were either armed with

rifles or unarmed and presumably off duty, the uniformed

Chinese were all bearing swords, with only the occasional

pistol.

„The 1860s, I think," Barbara said to Ian.

„The uniforms look about that sort of era," he agreed.

„Too early for the Boxers, but probably not too long after

the Opium Wars."

Barbara found herself smiling. Someone had once said that

the past was another country, but she didn"t think they

realised it was the sort of country that it would be rewarding

to mount an expedition to. No doubt the idea of said country

being suitable for a holiday was also not intended.

„Your assessment of this place is quite right, I should say,"

the Doctor chipped in. He smiled and chuckled. „Vicki has

spotted an inn, where we might find both some sustenance

and confirmation of what the time and place are."

He pointed with his walking cane to a relatively high

building on a corner.

There Vicki, ever the enthusiastic explorer, was waiting for

them. Barbara sometimes wondered whether she and Ian

ever also seemed to the Doctor"s eyes like the excitable

children of a holidaying family. She hoped not, but suspected

this was a vain hope. She felt settled here, in the past again,

and, after all, there were worse things than being

enthusiastic or passionate about what one did with one"s

time.

Guangzhou might be eighteen hundred years later than

Rome, but it didn"t seem to be much more advanced.

Considering how different the Roman period was to her own

time, Vicki had thought that with technology developing over

the years the differences between the two cities would have

been far more noticeable.

She had expected to see vehicles powered by internal com-

bustion engines, but there were none around. She wasn"t

quite sure whether this was because they hadn"t been

invented yet, or whether there simply weren"t any in the city.

In any case she wasn"t complaining; there was plenty to see

and do, by the looks of things.

Confident that the others would stay close behind her she

had allowed herself to wander, admiring the banners and

paper lanterns that hung above the streets, and the bolts of

silk in shops hidden under bright awnings. Though there

were no cars, the streets were far from empty and she found

herself winding between people, obstacles and vehicles under

more organic power. There were bicycles, and rickshaws, and

horses, and chickens, and although there were men carrying

rifles as well as swords, nothing else seemed to have

advanced.

If anything, the smell was worse than it had been in Rome,

as if man"s knowledge of sewerage had somehow regressed

rather than advanced. It wasn"t all bad, though. There was a

smell of food that was pulling at her like a black hole pulled

at, well, anything and everything. True, there were other, less

palatable smells as well - of animals, filth, incense, wood

smoke and a lot of other things she couldn"t identify because

they no longer existed in her time. None of them deflected her

attention away from the scent of spices and frying oil.

It was coming from a three-storey brick and wood building

on the next corner. Chinese characters hung from a sign, and

were painted on lamps that hung both inside and out. The

carved shutters over the windows were open and folded back,

so Vicki could see almost all of the ground floor and first

floor.

The place looked well populated, with trays of steaming

bowls on many tables and laughing faces enjoying their

contents. A couple of girls in tight, if well-worn, silks were

ferrying bottles and mugs around. Somewhere at the back of

the ground floor a man was chopping something. He was

larger than anyone else Vicki could see in the building.

She turned, and for one gut-tightening moment thought

she"d lost the others. Then she saw the Doctor"s white hair,

and Ian and Barbara a few yards behind him. She ran back

to the Doctor. „I"ve found breakfast. An inn or something. It

looks well filled, and most of the customers seem clean, so

it"s probably a good choice."

The Doctor smiled, chuckling to himself. „We"re becoming

quite the little travel expert aren"t we? Hmm? Yes, that"s very

good. Very good indeed."

He looked around for Ian and Barbara, and stepped over to

them to pass on the news. Vicki turned again, and this time

went through the doors of the building.

The ground floor of the inn was, barring the style of lamps

and carvings, much like any other the time travellers had

visited in different eras. It had a worn feel, but one that was

homely and lived-in rather than tired out. The smell of beer

and dark wine was overwhelmed by the smell of spices, frying

vegetables and steaming meat.

It was completely irresistible.

The innkeeper was a hawk-faced man with a scarred cheek.

When he looked at the travellers one eye moved further than

the other, and Vicki suspected the latter was glass. He looked

surreptitiously around at his other customers with a troubled

expression. Vicki couldn"t think why, though she did notice

that the murmur of conversation had lessened when they

came in.

The Doctor pointed to an empty table with four stools

around it, two on either side. „I suggest we take a seat. I can

order for all of us. Whichever province of China this is, I

speak the local dialect, of course."

„Of course," Ian agreed.

At the sound of his voice, the rest of the inn fell silent. Vicki

could feel eyes on her back, and began to wonder if she"d

made such a good choice after all. She dismissed the worry;

this was a civilised place, a city on Earth. Even if someone

here was a criminal, they"d hardly start trouble in a public

place.

Ian and Barbara sat on one side of the table, opposite the

Doctor and Vicki. The Doctor went over to the man with the

glass eye and spoke to him. While he was there Vicki looked

around. There were a couple of white men at another table,

but they were concentrating on their meal. Everyone else was

looking at the time travellers" table.

It was more specific than that, Vicki realised after a

moment: they were looking at Ian. Their expressions ranged

from surprise through curiosity to indignation, and they were

all looking at Ian.

The Doctor returned, flanked by a waitress carrying a tray

of dim sum. He didn"t seem to notice the looks. „Help your-

selves," he said, taking his stool.

Vicki took his walking cane while he got himself settled.

„Thank you, child."

Vicki felt more comfortable sitting with the Doctor rather

than with Ian and Barbara. It wasn"t that she disliked them -

they were smart enough, considering they came from a time

not much evolved beyond this one, and they were good

people. It was just that she didn"t feel at ease being in their

way. They were so much a couple - almost a gestalt entity,

she sometimes thought - that she felt like an intruder when

she was around. Or sometimes just like a fifth wheel.

Vicki suddenly realised how hungry she really was. The

food machine in the TARDIS seemed able to supply any

amount of nutrition, and could even manage the taste of real

food, but it wasn"t really real. It didn"t have the right texture,

and you certainly couldn"t sit and have a chat over a meal

the size of a chocolate bar, even if it did taste like steak and

eggs.

She helped herself to spring rolls, noodles, steamed

dumplings and anything else her arms could reach. As she

had found in Rome, the food in the past tasted better, or at

least more real, than the food of her time.

On the ship to Astra - and even on Earth in her time -

everything was engineered and processed to be nutritious

and healthy, but it all tasted much the same. She looked over

at Ian and Barbara, who were chatting and relaxed as they

picked at the buffet. Though they came from a time not much

more advanced than this one, she envied them the food they

ate. Healthy or not, at least it was worthy of the name.

„This is excellent," Barbara exclaimed.

„Much better than anything out of the food machine," Ian

agreed, echoing Vicki"s thought.

„And just what is wrong with the food machine?" the Doctor

asked haughtily, though Vicki could tell from his tone that he

was being playful rather than truly offended.

„Nothing, Doctor," Ian said, doing a good job of faking

ruefulness. „But you have to admit that nutrition bars,

however well flavoured, are no match for the real thing."

Vicki got the feeling their banter was an old and favourite

game for both of them.

„Oh, aren"t they, young man? The Ship does have a kitchen,

you know - or perhaps I should say a galley. If I were to

collect ingredients, perhaps you"d care to do the cooking from

now on, eh?"

Ian looked tempted. „Well, I"m no cordon bleu, but I know

how to fry an egg -"

„Chesterton!" a voice from a nearby table exclaimed.

It was a man with the waxy face of a drinker, and the

stained clothes of one whose drinking gets less accurate with

every cup of wine. His face seemed to be caught in a battle

between the expressions of a jackpot winner and a crash

survivor. The whole populace of the restaurant looked at the

travellers.

„Yes," Ian said cautiously. „My name"s Chesterton."

„Chesterton," the half-drunk man said again.

Vicki was astonished. „How did he know your name?"

Ian could only shrug and look baffled as the drunkard put

his massive knuckles on the table and pushed himself up

from his stool. He came over, almost managing to walk in a

straight line.

„You must have more guts than we thought, to come in

here with only an old man and a couple of your gwailo

whores for company - or less brains than we thought."

„Look friend," Ian began tartly, „I don"t care what you think

you"ve got against me, but if you don"t take back what -"

His protest ended in a solid smack of drunken fist against

speaking mouth.

The old temple off the Baiyun road didn"t look nearly as

spooky in the morning light. It was just a tumbledown old

building, with grass for a floor, and plants and flowers

covering the walls. Fei-Hung felt more than a little foolish.

Perhaps he had been tricked by a shadow or the movement of

trees in the wind?

That"s what his father would say, anyway. He was sure of

that. But he was also sure the wind didn"t make the sound

he had heard, and neither did it cast a flashing light. There

were certainly no lamps in the old ruin.

„Where were you, exactly?" his father asked.

Fei-Hung pointed to an arch. „Through there."

Wong-sifu immediately made for the arch and, after a

moment"s hesitation, Fei-Hung followed. He wasn"t sure

whether he was expecting to see anything or not. The

daylight had banished most of the fear, and even if there had

been anything demonic, surely it would have returned to one

of the hells by dawn.

Fei-Hung stepped through the arch - and froze, a chill

trickling down his spine. The gate that had appeared from

nowhere was still there. „There it is."

Kei-Ying moved closer to it, but Fei-Hung stayed where he

was for a moment. In the light he could see that it was more

like a kind of wooden box - the size of two or three coffins

stuck together - that had appeared in the gap in the wall.

„You see, I told you!"

His father gave him a withering look, which mellowed after

a moment. „This box is new, but it"s nothing supernatural."

He pointed to some writing above the doors and on one of the

panels. „This writing is in the European alphabet. It probably

belongs to the compound on Xamian Island, or one of the

companies in town."

„Then what"s it doing out here?"

Kei-Ying stepped back, studying the box. „I don"t know. It"s

out of the way, but they haven"t hidden it or covered it up. It

could be abandoned, I suppose. Or some sort of small supply

cabinet for columns nearing the city. I wonder how heavy it

is; the noise you heard could have been some kind of steam-

driven traction-engine that was carrying it."

Fei-Hung shook his head. „Nothing carried it," he insisted.

„It appeared out of nothing. I saw it," he added emphatically.

He knew it sounded insane, but he also knew he wasn"t given

to flights of fancy, and he hoped his father knew this too.

After a moment Kei-Ying nodded. „I believe you believe

that"s what you saw." He turned back to the box and made to

pat its side. Instantly, he drew his hand back. „What the -?"

„Father?" Fei-Hung was immediately on guard, though he

wasn"t sure what he was guarding against.

„It... tingles."

„Tingles?"

Wong-sifu nodded.

Gingerly, Fei-Hung put out a hand towards the wooden

door. There was a strange feeling in his fingertips, as if the

flesh was trying to ripple against the bone inside. He jumped

back. „Magic?"

„Maybe... The man who owns the Hidden Panda does deals

of some kind with one of the Englishmen at Xamian. Perhaps

he"ll know something about this."

Kei-Ying turned on his heel and marched out of the temple.

Fei-Hung was glad to follow.

It didn"t take long for them to return to the city. They came

in past the docks this time in order to have a shorter walk to

the Hidden Panda. As they neared it they could hear shouts,

and the occasional crash of pottery or furniture. People in the

street were looking towards the junction where the Hidden

Panda stood.

Fei-Hung hoped the trouble wasn"t there; his father"s friend

was almost certainly a good man simply by virtue of being his

father"s friend, and Fei-Hung didn"t want such a person to be

hurt. He started running, his father matching him stride for

stride.

Through the open framework of the ground floor Fei-Hung

could see a fight going on. The inn was in uproar. Labourers

and merchants alike were struggling together in a knot of

bodies in the middle of the floor.

Two hefty men - dock workers, perhaps - were restraining

an older white man. A white girl was trying to pull them away

from him, while a white woman was clawing at the knot of

men trying to break them up. A few other men dotted around

were using the chaos to settle private scores, or just joining

in for fun.

Fei-Hung ducked to avoid a stool that was thrown through

the door as he entered. Behind him, his father caught it and

set it down beside a table. „Cheng! What"s going on here?"

Kei-Ying demanded of the innkeeper.

The scar-faced innkeeper paused in his bouncing of a

man"s head off the bar top, and gestured towards the scrum.

„It"s Chesterton -"

He broke off as the man he was grappling with fought back

and hit him with a backhanded blow. Cheng"s glass eye

clattered to the top of the bar and fell to the floor.

Fei-Hung had never met this Chesterton, but he"d heard

the name spoken by his father and some of his father"s

friends. They didn"t speak well of him. Fei-Hung wondered

what his father would think of this fight if the man he spoke

ill of was losing it.

Wong Kei-Ying hesitated momentarily at Cheng"s words. Then

he turned back to the group of men who were pummelling a

figure on the floor. It wasn"t a fight - it was a mob beating,

pure and simple. Even if the figure was the Chesterton he

had heard about, he didn"t deserve this. To be beaten in a

fair fight, yes; but not this.

Kei-Ying stepped in with a twist here and a sweep of the

arms there, and the men stumbled away clutching wrists and

shoulders. As the group parted, their fun over, Kei-Ying could

see that there was indeed a European man on the floor.

It was Chesterton, just as Cheng had said. His features

were the angular sort that westerners found handsome. His

torn and stained clothes were strange - perhaps a new

fashion from Europe.

There were two women with him. The older of the two was

striking-looking and dark-haired. She had been the one

trying to break up the gang. A few of the men had scratches

on their faces that would take weeks to heal, and Kei-Ying

had no doubt her nails had been responsible. Unusually for a

European woman, she was wearing trousers instead of thick

layers of skirt.

Kei-Ying could tell that the younger woman - no more than

a girl, really - was European even before he saw her face. Her

hair was an impossibly light shade for either Han or Manchu.

When she turned, he saw she had large eyes and a delicate

chin.

He glared at the rabble around the Hidden Panda"s ground

floor. „All right. You"ve had enough fun for one day. He isn"t

going to shrug this off, and he"s probably beyond the point of

feeling anything more you could do anyway."

„Wong-sifu is right," Cheng said. „You"ve done what you

wanted and wrecked half my place in the process. Get the

hell out of here so I can clean up."

The drunks and thugs exchanged doubtful looks, then

began to relax and filter away. Kei-Ying had noted that mobs

had a limited life span. Like firecrackers they blew up with

lots of noise and smoke, but the ashes blew away a moment

later. He saw the giant, Pang, lurking in the doorway to the

kitchen. He was an effective persuader of the doubters among

the mob, even without the large cleaver he held. Those who

doubted that the fun was really over also left, muttering

under their breaths.

„Keep an eye out, Fei-Hung," Kei-Ying said.

The young man nodded and went to guard the door, while

Kei-Ying turned his attention to Chesterton. The man was in

a bad way: his cheeks were swollen and his jaw was probably

chipped. The sheared-off top of a tooth was lying in a small

pool of blood and spit, and his eyelids were too swollen and

dark to open. His ears looked as if they had been hacked out

of wood.

Kei-Ying knelt and opened Chesterton"s jacket and shirt. As

he suspected from seeing the kicks that had been delivered,

the torso was a mass of bruises, and he wouldn"t be

surprised to find several ribs broken. At least Chesterton

wasn"t coughing blood, so no broken bone had pierced a

lung.

„He is badly hurt, but should live." He looked over at Cheng

and Pang. „Cheng, I"ll need a cart, and the assistance of

Pang."

„Yes, Wong-sifu," Cheng agreed. Pang merely nodded.

„What are you doing with him?" the older woman asked.

She had a bruised cheek, but didn"t seem to have noticed it.

Her attention was focused entirely on Chesterton.

„I will take him to Po Chi Lam, my surgery. There, I can

treat his wounds."

„You"re a doctor?"

„A healer."

She looked him in the eye, judging him. Kei-Ying didn"t

look away; he had nothing to hide. She seemed to see that.

„Thank you."

„Yes, thank you, sir, for your kind assistance," the old man

said.

Silver hair fell around his shoulders, and he was dressed

soberly in a black double-breasted frock coat and checked

trousers. His face was somehow as haughty as his bearing

and at the same time suggestive of wise amusement. „We

were in considerable trouble, I believe."

Kei-Ying nodded in agreement. „You were... Mr... ?"

„Oh, just Doctor."

„Doctor? You"re are a medical man too, then?"

„Well, that greatly depends." The Doctor smiled and clapped

his hands. „Now, as for your surgery... Po Chi Lam, did you

say?"

„Yes."

„And would your name, by any chance, be Master Wong?"

„Yes it would. Wong Kei-Ying. You"ve heard of me?"

„But of course, yes! You"re quite highly regarded, you know.

Yes, very highly indeed."

The Doctor seemed to remember his friend and immediately

became as professional and curt as Kei-Ying had heard

Western doctors could be. „The cart is a good idea. We can

hardly carry poor Chesterton ourselves. But we must be

careful when we lift him up, so as not to disturb any broken

ribs or internal injuries."

„Don"t worry, Doctor. My son and I also teach gungfu, and

we"re used to handling such injuries."

Pang loomed behind the Doctor. „I"ve got the cart ready," he

said. He looked down at Chesterton, his expression sad, and

shook his head.

6

Barbara knelt at Ian"s side, holding his hand almost tightly

enough to hear the bones grate against each other. At just

such an imagined sound she lessened her grip, flooded with

guilt. He was injured enough already.

Barbara couldn"t recall ever wanting to hit someone, or

hurt a person physically, so when the desire to do so washed

through her she didn"t recognise it at first. It was a dark

tension that started somewhere in the pit of her stomach,

and spread upwards and outwards in her blood. Every beat

of her pulse carried it a little further.

At first she mistook it for worry, or impatience for Ian to

heal. Then she remembered the faces of the men beating him

- their sweat-stained skin and gleeful expressions - and knew

that feeling her knuckles crack against their cheeks or jaws

would relieve that intolerable tension.

She wondered what tensions those men had taken out on

Ian, and decided there probably weren"t any. She wished she

could have done more to fight off the gang. She could see

blood under her fingernails where she had scratched at least

one of them, but she didn"t remember what it had felt like at

the time. She wondered if remembering the feeling would

make her feel better or worse.

Her fingers throbbed where the nails had been levered up

against the thug"s skin and bone, but she knew it was

nothing compared to what Ian must be going through.

At first she had thought the same as Vicki - the inn was a

safe-looking place, and the number of locals and foreigners

eating there suggested it served good and healthy fare. Then

some of those locals had set upon Ian just, as far as she

could see, for being Ian Chesterton.

This in itself was a puzzle. How could they know his name,

or who he was? She had asked this several times on the cart

journey here, but nobody had answered. They all either

looked at her as though she was mad for not knowing the

answer, or dodged the question. It was infuriating enough to

make her want to explode. Frankly, it was infuriating enough

to make her want to take out her fear and anger on them,

and repay them for the beating Ian had taken rather than the

help they were offering. It was wrong, and she knew it, but

feelings couldn"t be helped - they just happened to you,

whether you wanted them to or not.

The man who had pulled the mob off Ian had been true to

his word and had brought the time travellers to his surgery,

if that"s what this place was. He wore simple trousers and a

shirt, but carried them as well as if they were the uniform of

a general. He wore the look comfortably and easily, and

Barbara had no doubt that he wasn"t putting on an act for

anyone"s benefit.

His eyes were dark, but were flecked with lighter slivers the

way the autumn sunlight falls warmly on to undergrowth in a

forest path. They were strong and calm, and he clearly had

nothing to prove. He had introduced himself as „Wong," to the

Doctor. „Wong Kei-Ying." The name was vaguely familiar, but

Barbara couldn"t place it.

The giant cook had brought a cart round to the inn and,

with Kei-Ying and his son, had gently carried Ian to it. There

was a simple mattress in the cart.

„I brought it from my room," the giant said quietly. „Don"t

forget where it came from."

„It will be returned within the hour," Kei-Ying promised him.

Barbara was as mystified by the giant"s kindness as she

was by the gang"s hostility. „Thank you," she said. She liked

him immediately, though she couldn"t say why.

He simply smiled. Then the Wongs, pere et fils, boarded the

cart, as did the Doctor, Vicki and Barbara herself.

The journey lasted only a few minutes, and took them from

the city centre to a reasonable suburb. Various homes and

workplaces lined the streets, and Kei-Ying guided the cart

into a street with perimeter walls on either side that made it

difficult to see what sort of buildings might be beyond them.

One side of the street was taken up with a long white-

washed wall, about eight feet high. Above it Barbara could

make out tiled roofs, angular but with gentle curves. Halfway

along the wall a dark wooden gateway stood twelve feet high.

The gates themselves, studded with metal, were the same

height as the wall, leaving a gap between them and the top of

the wooden frame. Barbara guessed the frame was intended

to be decorative rather than a barrier to intruders.

Wong"s son jumped down and opened the gates to let the

cart through into a space that felt open and airy. A drive

paved with flagstones led between two dusty lawns to a wide

courtyard of hard-packed earth. On either side there were

long, low buildings, separated from the drive by the lawns.

The open space was only the size of a large garden, but it felt

like a field with room for the air to circulate.

The courtyard fronted an impressive wood and plaster

building with two wings on either side of the courtyard,

which was edged on three sides by a raised veranda. All the

doors and windows were wooden and were carved with

intricate patterns. The main double doors in the middle of

the central section slid aside and folded away as several men

emerged.

„Fei-Hung," Kei-Ying said to the youth, then rattled off a

string of syllables that Barbara couldn"t follow. She

presumed they were the names of medicines of some kind -

herbs, most likely. The young man nodded and ran into the

building.

Barbara helped the Doctor, Vicki and Kei-Ying to lift Ian

out of the cart. He felt heavier than she had imagined. Under

Kei-Ying"s direction they brought him into the room where

Barbara was now kneeling beside him.

It was a simple room, with several low beds and a polished

wooden floor surrounded by dark shelves filled with bowls,

cups and scrolls, and all the impedimenta of some esoteric

form of medicine. A couple of simple tables bore lamps near

the beds, as did some of the thick, black, square wooden

beams that supported the ceiling.

Fei-Hung was waiting, his arms overflowing with clay jars

and vials, all tightly stoppered and labelled with Chinese

characters. Kei-Ying wasted no time in brewing a herbal tea

and preparing lotions to dab on to Ian"s wounds.

„What are they?" Barbara asked.

‘Tsan go tsui, to reduce the pain from swelling injuries,"

Kei- Ying answered . ‘Chi da to reduce the bruising."

„These are quite effective natural anti-inflammatories," the

Doctor agreed, reassuringly. „And these other herbs here,

they should be quite effective analgesics."

Barbara wasn"t so sure. „I"d be happier if we had aspirin

available. I"m sure Master Wong knows what he"s doing, and

that some plants and herbs have some medicinal value -"

„Oh, really?" the Doctor asked. „What you call aspirin orig-

inates from the bark of the willow. You"d be surprised how

many natural substances are used or replicated in your

modern medicine."

Finally, Kei-Ying was finished and Barbara had to admit

that Ian was breathing more normally and the swellings

under his bruises were starting to reduce. „He will need a few

days" rest," Kei-Ying said, but it will take weeks for the broken

bones to heal. Especially the left shin. I have some little skill,

but even I cannot force bone to glue itself together overnight."

The Doctor looked Ian over and seemed satisfied with what

he saw. „Some little skill? Please, Master Wong, don"t do

yourself down. Your skills are quite remarkable for this day

and age. Yes, remarkable. In fact I don"t think I could have

done better myself."

„You honour me."

„Yes, I suppose I do," the Doctor murmured. „But we shall

have to do something about those ribs and that leg before we

can move again."

Kei-Ying nodded. „He has quarters at Xamian, of course,

but it may be dangerous to move -"

„Xamian, you say? I"m afraid I don"t know what you"re

talking about. We"ve only just arrived here in Guangzhou."

„Just arrived? But Chesterton has been here for at least a

year."

„That"s impossible," Barbara exclaimed.

„No," the Doctor said slowly. „I"m afraid it isn"t impossible.

Not in the TARDIS."

He half-closed his eyes, sinking deep into his thoughts the

way Barbara liked to sink into a relaxing bath. „Master Wong,

I"m sure you are honest and truthful, and that Chesterton

has been here for a year. It would be very difficult to explain,

but I must ask you to believe me that he has also just arrived

today, and that he has no lodgings at Xamian, wherever that

may be."

Kei-Ying hesitated, then looked back at Ian. „Then he

should stay here tonight."

„I"ll watch over him," Barbara said.

The Doctor"s face softened immediately and he put a hand

on her shoulder. „Of course, Barbara. You will let me know if

he wakes up, hmm?"

„Yes, of course."

„I can stay too," Vicki volunteered.

„That"s very kind of you, child," the Doctor said quickly, „but

we don"t want to crowd Chesterton, now do we?"

Barbara gave the Doctor a look of thanks, willing him to

hear the gratitude she wasn"t vocalising. He nodded slightly

and ushered Vicki out.

„I will check on him in an hour," Kei-Ying promised.

Barbara smiled and nodded. She felt as if she herself was

likely to keel over at any moment. All the light in the room

seemed to have floated to the top edge of her peripheral

vision, and everything she focused on was cloaked in twitchy

gloom.

She knelt beside Ian and took his hand. She appreciated

Vicki wanting to help, and the fact that the girl cared about

her travelling companions, but right now she just wanted to

be alone with Ian.

She was able to relax slightly, knowing that something had

been done about Ian"s injuries, but she couldn"t help feeling

that while he was unconscious some part of her was blacked

out. It was like having a radio on which one of her favourite

stations was silent. At the same time she felt, and hoped that

it wasn"t just a hope, that he would somehow know that she

was there.

Soon, the tension that remained was a dark one that

spread out from her stomach. For the first time she could

remember, Barbara wanted to hit someone.

Fei-Hung followed Kei-Ying out. His father had done a good

job and had made the young man proud to be his son, as he

often did. Despite this, Fei-Hung wasn"t sure they should

have bothered. „Father, why are we keeping him here? The

garrison at Xamian Island has its own doctors -"

„As I told the old man and the women, it could be

dangerous to move him right now." Kei-Ying sounded

distracted and distant. „Fei-Hung, have you met Chesterton

before?"

„Not as such. I"ve seen him from a distance, when he rode

by."

„Didn"t he strike you as being a little older than this man? I

recall he had more grey in his hair."

„Yes... Now that you mention it. Could this man be his

brother? That would explain why he has no quarters at

Xamian."

Kei-Ying nodded. „That"s what I was thinking."

Fei-Hung hesitated. „But, Father, he"s still a gwailo, still a

supporter of the Manchu -" He fell silent as Kei-Ying grabbed

his ear. Though he had celebrated his eighteenth birthday,

and was taller than his father, he made the appropriate

sounds of pain as he allowed Kei-Ying to escort him across

the courtyard and out of the main gate.

Without letting go of his son"s ear, Kei-Ying pointed at the

sign above the gate. „What does that say?"

„Po Chi Lam, Physician"s Surgery."

„Does it say “except for gwailos”?"

„No, but -"

Kei-Ying released the ear just long enough to give it a clip

with his hand, then twisted it again.

„No buts! No exceptions. This Chesterton needs a physician.

I am a physician, therefore I will help. You will be a physician

too, so the same rule applies to you." He released his son.

Fei-Hung rubbed his ear. „I bet their physician wouldn"t

help you if the situation was reversed."

„That," Kei-Ying said patiently, „is why we should help. If

you dislike someone, why would you want to be like him?" He

turned to go back inside, then paused to curse. „I forgot to

ask Cheng about that box."

They had been so completely sidetracked that Fei-Hung

hadn"t thought to mention it either.

„Just a moment," he said. „I have seen those people before!

We passed them on the Baiyun road."

„So we did! And the old man, the Doctor, said they"d just

arrived. Perhaps the box is theirs." Kei-Ying nodded to

himself. „I shall ask them, at dinner."

„What about Cheng"s cart?"

„Tell Jiang to take it back to the Hidden Panda."

„Jiang?" It seemed a rather menial task for another teacher.

„Jiang."

7

Once the last bolt was thrown, and the shutters closed

against the darkness outside, Cheng relaxed a bit, letting out

a long breath. Then he set about looking for his eye.

He found it under the table nearest the door, and picked off

the bits of grit and sawdust that had adhered to it. He looked

at it, reluctant to put it back in after its journey around the

floor. For the first time in his life, he felt a little guilty about

not keeping the place any cleaner than a drunken dock

worker was likely to notice.

The broom in the corner looked welcoming for a change.

„Maybe tomorrow," he told it. He went back behind the bar

and used his teeth to pull the stopper out of a bottle of Kao-

liang. He poured some of the liquor into a mug and dropped

his glass eye into it, rolling it around to clean it. Then he

dried the eye off carefully, put it back in its socket - it stung,

despite his efforts to remove the alcohol - and drank the

liquor, as he didn"t see any point in wasting it.

He lifted the bottle and took it through to the kitchen,

where the giant Pang was trying to chisel off the crust on one

of the overused woks. „Drink?" he offered. Pang took a couple

of swallows from the bottle.

„What a day," Cheng sighed.

„Almost like the old days."

„Yes, almost. Except that there was no profit in it. It"ll cost

us to replace those chairs."

There was a rapping on the shutters next to the door, a

simple long-short long-short code. Cheng opened the door

and let in a wiry, white man with a squashed nose and

weathered face. He wore simple local clothes, but couldn"t

disguise his military bearing or walk.

„You"re late," Cheng told him in heavily accented English.

„Captain Logan had me putting a couple of men through

punishment drills as soon as we got back from Qiang-Ling.

He"s a wee shite, that one. The kinna man whose mouth

bleeds every twenty-eight days, if ye take my meaning."

„Hardly the way for a soldier to talk about his superior

officer?"

Sergeant Major Anderson shrugged the comment off. „I"ve

been in the army since he was naught but a babe in arms,

and I"ll be there when he"s retired to some soft desk job in

London." He looked towards the door to the cellar. „Now, d"ye

have something for me?"

Cheng nodded, happy that the small talk was over. He lit a

small lamp and led Anderson down into the spiced depths of

the cellar. The space under the inn was filled with boxes and

barrels, and the occasional rat that Cheng hoped would have

the sense to keep out of the way. Apart from food and drink,

there were small piles of lanterns in the corners and even a

dancer"s lion costume.

Cheng led the Scotsman to a small pile of crates and patted

the topmost one. „A Russian ship came into the docks yester-

day. This was on board."

He put the lamp down, pulled a knife from his belt and lev-

ered the top off the crate. There were bottles inside it nestling

in straw. Cheng lifted one out and tossed it to Anderson, who

caught it easily.

The sergeant major pulled the stopper out and sniffed.

„Smooth stuff," he said admiringly. He put the stopper back

in. „How many?" .

„Just what you see here. Six crates, twelve bottles each."

Anderson nodded thoughtfully and Cheng could see the

wheels turning behind his eyes, the beads sliding along the

mental abacus to work out what to offer in exchange.

„Three boxes of rifle ammunition."

„Five," Cheng countered immediately - through force of

habit. Three would have been fine.

„Four."

„Done."

„Deliver them to the scullery at Xamian in the morning.

Your boxes of bullets will be in the linens as usual."

„That"s fine." Cheng led Anderson back up to the kitchen,

where Pang was counting up stock. „How is Megan?"

„Och, she"s fine. I had a letter from her this week. She"s

settling in to her new school nicely, she says."

„That is good to hear," Cheng said, and meant it. He"d never

met this Megan, but she seemed like a good person, from

what Anderson had told him. They shook hands on the deal.

„Tomorrow morning it is."

Then Anderson was gone, and Pang paused in his work.

„Jiang"s waiting for you upstairs."

Cheng groaned, but ascended to the cleaner, private dining

level. The furnishings here were much the same as on the

ground floor, but a few watercolours hung on the walls and

every table was partitioned into its own little booth. Here the

slightly better-off clientele could eat and discuss business

without having to look over their shoulders at a crowd.

Jiang was indeed waiting. He was tall and thin, with a

slightly shaggy moustache, and wore a white tunic over black

trousers. His clothes may have been plain, but they were well

tailored. „Jiang-sifu," Cheng said. „What can I do for you?"

„Lei-Fang has called a meeting. On the junk."

„Let me get my coat."

The junk was a large, two-masted ship that could slide over

the Pearl River quietly and steadily, as placid as a swan. Only

a couple of sailors were visible on deck, doing whatever

sailors did with ropes and suchlike. Cheng had never been to

sea and, on a river, preferred a boat he could row himself.

He and Jiang had ridden in a wagon to the northwest of the

city, to a small dock where a ferryman was waiting with a

low, wide boat. It had taken a further half-hour to reach the

place where the junk was moored, and Cheng had passed the

time by telling Jiang about the day"s hassles. Jiang seemed

amused, which made Cheng wonder whether telling him had

been such a good idea.

Then, as the setting sun enriched the sky ahead, they had

reached the junk. It sat high on the water, its sails glowing in

the late afternoon light, its planking the colour of pale tea.

The ferryman guided the boat in under the shadow of the

junk, and one of the sailors let down a rope ladder. Cheng

and Jiang quickly scrambled up it. At the top, Cheng looked

down and saw the ferryman push the boat away and glide

across to the near shore to wait.

Cheng stepped down on to the main deck and ducked

through a low door. To his surprise, Lei-Fang was waiting in

the companionway outside an ornate gilded door. He was a

little older than Cheng and Jiang, but he seemed to have

aged twenty years since Cheng last saw him barely a month

ago. He still wore his militia uniform, which surprised Cheng

as these meetings were supposed to be covert.

„Some sort of emergency?" Cheng asked.

„I"m not sure. Something strange is happening."

„Strange?"

„You"ll see." Lei-Fang sounded as worn and worried as he

looked.

Cheng didn"t like this at all.

Lei-Fang knocked on the door. „Enter," a voice called out.

And they did.

The room inside was fit for a palace - a far cry from the

simple captain"s cabin, strewn with charts and scrolls, of

Cheng"s last visit. Now the chamber was filled with ornate

lamps and statuary, and the most expensive furniture and

carpets he had ever seen. At the far end was a low dais.

Cheng stopped short as he saw the three men on the raised

area. They were all strangers to him; the familiar faces he

had served with for the last couple of years weren"t there.

All three men had short hair, and none of them had shaved

their foreheads. One man was sitting, firm yet relaxed. His

hair was grey, as was his wispy beard. The other two men

stood flanking him. One was lean, with an angular,

handsome face. The other was squat, almost as wide at the

shoulders as he was tall, his face almost square.

They were complete strangers, yet somehow Cheng recog-

nised them. He couldn"t believe his eye. Those three faces

were burnt into his consciousness in a way that even his

father"s face was not. They weren"t dressed in the robes of

monks any more, but he recognised them as if he had last

seen them yesterday, not two years ago.

The abbot leant closer to him. His eyes didn"t glow today,

but Cheng suddenly felt as if he knew what it was like to be a

haunch of beef in the hands of a butcher assessing the grain

before slicing the meat.

„I know you, don"t I?" the abbot asked.

Terrified, Cheng nearly blurted out „yes". He bit his tongue

in time and shook his head. He thanked all the gods and

ancestors he knew that he didn"t seem to be as important to

the abbot as the abbot had been to him. Then he

remembered that he had grown his moustache since their

last meeting, and that he had no glass eye back then, just a

patch over the socket.

The abbot didn"t blink, even though he held Cheng"s gaze

for a full minute. „Perhaps you have delivered reports to me

before."

„I...I don"t think so," Cheng replied. Then he blurted out,

„Who are you?"

„I am your superior. You may call me Lord, or Master." The

abbot Cheng remembered from nearly two years ago spread

his hands to either side. „These are my generals. You will call

them General, or Sir." He smiled, not unkindly but with steel.

„Now kneel before your lord."

The abbot watched as Zhao and Gao moved off the dais to

flank Lei-Fang, Jiang and Cheng. He had never seen the

latter pair before, as far as he could remember, but Lei-Fang

had told him who would be attending. A servant came in with

an urn of tea.

The abbot relaxed in his favourite seat. It was lacquered

wood, padded with velvet. Everyone knelt until he spoke. „Be

seated, please."

The visitors took plush seats of their own.

„It has come to my attention that there is a certain amount

of dissent among the ranks." The abbot smiled, and enjoyed

the way the three men looked even more nervous when he

did so. „Perhaps “confusion” would be a better word than

“dissent”? I gather that there are some in the Black Flag who

are uncertain whether merely to campaign against the

Manchu, to join the Manchu and campaign against the

gwailos, or to campaign against everyone who isn"t Black

Flag."

„There are factions, my Lord, it is true," Jiang agreed.

„Quite so," said the abbot. „The answer, of course, is simple.

The Black Flag should campaign against whomever its

sovereign lord tells it to. Loyalty and obedience are mortal

enemies of confusion - and powerful, invulnerable enemies

they are." He looked towards the tea servant and snapped his

fingers. „Refreshments."

The servant bowed hurriedly and scooted forward with a

trolley. Instead of cups and snacks a young buck deer, the

size of a large dog, was slumped across it. In the place of its

left ear, and the bone under it, there was a fist-sized hole

caked with dried blood.

The abbot watched the reactions of his audience carefully.

Cheng was almost soiling himself with fright. That was good.

Jiang looked baffled and his eyes darted around as if seeking

an exit. Lei-Fang simply looked stunned.

„Now," the abbot said, „what do you think of this fine

suckling pig?" Nobody dared to say anything, so he turned to

the servant. „It is cooked thoroughly, isn"t it?"

„Yes, my Lord," the servant said stiffly. He didn"t take his

eyes off the floor of the cabin.

„There, you hear? Cooked to perfection." The abbot slipped a

knife from his belt. „There"s more than enough pork here for

all of us."

„My Lord," Lei-Fang began hesitantly, „I see no pork. Only a

deer -"

Zhao"s fist slammed into the side of Lei-Fang"s head, once,

then again and again. When Lei-Fang had been reduced to

twitching insensibility the abbot held up a hand, staying

Zhao"s next blow. „You see? Confusion. But it is easily dealt

with. Zhao, it would appear that Lei-Fang"s eyes lie to him

and lead him into confusion. It would also seem that his nose

is useless as to smelling the aroma of cooking, and his

tongue is loose enough to spread this confusion, through, I"m

sure, no fault of his own. So, to protect him from any further

embarrassment, relieve him of those unnecessary and

unreasonable things."

Zhao nodded curtly and drew his dagger. Cheng studiously

looked out of the window, visibly trying not to be sick, while

Jiang watched, his mouth open, as Zhao plucked out Lei-

Fang"s left eye with the tip of the blade.

The abbot cut into the side of the deer with his knife,

parting the ribs with a cracking and scraping that was music

to his ears. He also enjoyed the screams that came from Lei-

Fang when the pain woke him.

By the time Zhao had dealt with the right eye and the nose,

the abbot had reached his prize. He pushed his hand into the

tight chest of the animal and pulled its heart free. As Zhao

sliced through Lei-Fang"s tongue and tossed it aside the

abbot bit into the heart, savouring the gelid, dead blood that

was trapped within, and the life and strength it carried with

it.

He swallowed, and held the heart out towards Cheng and

Jiang. „Pork?"

Cheng found his voice first, though it seemed to be swim-

ming up through vomit that desperately needed to be freed.

„Thank you, my Lord, no. Your chef has done too fine a job

for it to be wasted on a humble innkeeper like myself."

Jiang smiled weakly. „I already had yum cha before

boarding. But it is a roast worthy of an emperor, my Lord."

The abbot relaxed, taking another bite of the heart. The

pair had learnt their lesson, and were clearly worthy of the

love he had for them and the people. „Good. Cheng, your

supply of ammunition must continue."

„It will, my Lord," Cheng squeaked.

„Oh, I know it will." The abbot relaxed, putting Lei-Fang"s

mewling out of his mind and enjoying the respect that

radiated towards him from Cheng and Jiang. „I know."

CHAPTER TWO

The Dead and the Deadly

l

There was a small shrine at the back of the main hall at Po

Chi Lam, and there Fei-Hung was burning what looked to

Barbara like bank notes. Offerings of food were laid out as

well, but these only reminded her of the table at which Ian

had been attacked. The Doctor and Kei-Ying were waiting for

her in the hall with Vicki, looks of concern on their faces.

‘What is it?’ she asked.

Did they know something she didn’t? She wasn’t a medical

person, and knew she wouldn’t be able to recognise a skull

fracture, or any number of other potentially fatal results of a

beating.

‘Chesterton is very sick,’ Kei-Ying told her. ‘Internal

bleeding, and perhaps infection of the blood.’

Barbara couldn’t believe her ears. She refused to believe it.

‘I am treating him as best I can,’ Kei-Ying said, ‘but the

broken bones will not heal quickly.’

‘No,’ the Doctor murmured, ‘I don’t suppose they will

without rather more advanced medical techniques than you

have here. Oh, I don’t mean to belittle your talent, Master

Wong, but the techniques I’m thinking of are far in advance

of either yours, or western medicine in this century.’

‘This century?’ Kei-Ying looked as if he wanted to back

away, and Barbara couldn’t help but sympathise.

‘Barbara,’ the Doctor said, ‘do you think you could find

your way back to the Ship?’

‘I think so... why?’ A thought occurred to her and made her

bristle. ‘If you think you can get me out of the way while Ian-’

‘There are no antibiotic drugs in this century,’ the Doctor

reminded her pointedly, ‘but there are some medicines in the

TARDIS, of both your century and beyond.’ His voice

softened. ‘With them, I am sure that Chesterton will recover

fully, I promise you.’

‘I see.’ Could it be true? It was a silly question - she knew

for a fact that the TARDIS was filled to the gunwales with all

manner of modern and futuristic gubbins - but fear about

Ian’s condition bred doubts in even her most solid bastions of

certainty.

‘TARDIS?’ Kei-Ying echoed.

‘Our... conveyance,’ the Doctor said. ‘It would appear as a

large, blue wooden box with a lamp on top of it.’

‘With writing in white above the door, and on one panel of

the door? With small glass windows?’

‘Yes.’ The Doctor looked as surprised as Barbara felt. ‘Have

you seen it?’

‘My son said he saw it appear out of thin air. I examined it

this morning and thought it might belong to the English at

Xamian. Do you mean it is yours?’

‘Yes, indeed!’

The Doctor turned back to Barbara. ‘There is a first-aid

cabinet in the wall beside the food machine,’ he said. ‘In it

are some antibiotic drugs and a machine that looks rather

like a solid, wide paintbrush with lights and buttons. This is

a kind of bone-regenerator. It will knit broken bones together

in a matter of minutes.’

‘And we can use these on Ian?’ Relief washed over her, even

though the items were still back in the Ship. Just knowing

about them was more reassuring than all Kei-Ying’s efforts,

though Barbara would never be so insensitive as to say so

aloud.

‘Yes, my dear, we can. But first I shall need someone to go

and fetch them. I would rather not be away from Chesterton

in his present condition.’

‘I’ll go, of course.’

‘I thought you would.’ The Doctor handed her the TARDIS

key.

The touch of it felt strange, and Barbara wasn’t sure

whether this was because it was the key to something alien,

or because she was starting to feel dizzy and sick. If Ian

hadn’t needed help, she would have just lain down

somewhere and cried herself to sleep. But then, if Ian hadn’t

needed help she wouldn’t have been feeling this way in the

first place. The key looked like a perfectly ordinary Yale one

on the end of a black ribbon.

The Doctor’s hand closed over Barbara’s with surprising

firmness and reassurance. ‘I’m worried about Ian too,’ he

said softly. ‘And about you as well. You look as if you could

just topple over and pass out at any moment, and that’s not

good, now, is it?’

‘That sounds very much like how I feel,’ Barbara admitted.

‘There’s really nothing to worry about, you know.’ The

Doctor smiled kindly and caught her eye. ‘When you bring

me that first-aid kit from the TARDIS Ian will be as right as

rain, so you can start feeling rather more like your old self,

eh?’

Barbara nodded. Unexpectedly, she did feel better. Her

head seemed to be clearer and the nausea in her stomach

had gone.

Kei-Ying had remained calm and impassive throughout the

conversation, but now he nodded to himself. ‘My son can

guide you. He will also protect you if necessary.’

‘Thank you, Master Wong,’ the Doctor said. ‘I’m sure it

won’t be necessary, but it is most appreciated.’

Vicki looked towards the little shrine. ‘Can I go too?’

The Doctor looked at her quizzically for a moment, then

said, ‘Of course, child. Of course. Now let’s get you ready,

hmm?’

‘I’ll speak to Fei-Hung,’ Kei-Ying told them, and went over

to the shrine.

‘I’ll collect some fruit and water for the journey,’ Vicki said.

She too left, and the Doctor and Barbara were alone.

‘I’m surprised, Doctor, that you’re allowing Vicki to go. It’s

nearly dark, for one thing.’

The Doctor brushed Barbara’s comment away. ‘It’s only

natural that she should want to go. The child is a born

explorer, in case you hadn’t noticed. She’ll be keen to see

new times and new places.’

His features softened and, if Barbara wasn’t mistaken,

became almost admiring.

‘You see something of yourself in that?’ she asked.

‘What? Oh, I -’ The Doctor stopped pretending to be sur-

prised. ‘Yes, yes, in many ways I do. And something of Susan

too,’ he added sadly.

Barbara understood what he meant. ‘It’s natural that you’d

miss your granddaughter. Anyone would miss a child or

grandchild when they leave home at last.’

It was a judicious turn of phrase, and the Doctor clearly

knew this as well as Barbara did. Susan hadn’t exactly left

home; rather her home, the TARDIS, had left her.

‘Perhaps I shouldn’t indulge her so... Do you want Vicki to

stay here?’

Barbara thought for a moment, and almost said ‘Yes’. In

the end she shook her head. ‘I’m sure she’ll be fine.’

‘Tonight?’ Fei-Hung said. He looked slightly pained, and Kei-

Ying knew why. But Miss Law...’

‘If the girl loves you, she’ll understand.’

‘It’s not that,’ the young man protested. ‘It’s right in the

middle of yuelaan jit! Who wants to travel, especially after

dark? It’s bad luck -’

‘And it will be worse luck for this Chesterton if you do not.’

‘They arrived here overnight, travelling during yuelaan jit.

Doesn’t that prove my point?’

Kei-Ying let out a long sigh. ‘Well, if you’re afraid, I cannot

force you to go...’

‘I’m not afraid!’

‘No?’ Kei-Ying kept his face impassive. He knew his son

wasn’t afraid. At least, no more afraid than any sensible

person would be.

Fei-Hung knew it too. ‘This kind of manipulation is cheap

and beneath you, Father. I am not so much of a hothead to

be tricked with a simple challenge.’

Kei-Ying smiled. ‘Then be afraid, or not, as you will. But go

with the women, because that is what a good man and a

good healer would do. If you are who you are, it doesn’t

matter whether you fear or not.’

Fei-Hung looked through to Barbara in the main hall and

nodded. ‘I still think it’s a foolish thing to do.’

‘I know. And it may well be. But it is also the right thing to

do, and that’s what is important.’

The sun was already sinking when Vicki followed Fei-Hung

and Barbara out through the gates of Po Chi Lam, and into

what she now knew to be the city of Guangzhou in the year

1865. She paused in the gateway and looked back at the

surgery and school. The compound didn’t look like it had

looked in the few holographic films she had seen, yet it

definitely had the same air as the sets in those movies.

She couldn’t quite put her finger on what was different, or

what was the same, but in her heart and her bones she felt

there was something. For the first time in her life, Vicki had a

feeling she could only describe as roman vu, a sense of being

somewhere unreal. For a moment she didn’t know whether

she was in the nineteenth century or a fiction.

She ran to catch up with the others, and accompanied

them on to the still-busy lamplit streets. Paper lanterns cast

a dark light through the streets, and it was like viewing the

world through a bruised eye.

‘Don’t they have streetlights yet?’ she asked Barbara.

Barbara, like Ian, might be from an era that was nearly as

primitive as the one they were in now, but she was almost as

knowledgeable as the Doctor about still earlier times.

‘There are oil lamps, of course. And some cities in the world

will have gas lighting now.’

‘You’d think they’d make things brighter than these lamps

do.’

‘I think they normally do. I’ve seen this kind of lamp before,

in films and on television. I think it’s to do with a particular

festival, though I’m not sure which one.’

‘It is yuelaan jit’, Fei-Hung said. ‘The Festival of Hungry

Ghosts.’

Vicki had heard of this, but had no idea what it meant or

when it happened. ‘It doesn’t sound terribly cheerful. Is it

something like Hallowe’en?’

‘I think so,’ Barbara answered.

She seemed to want to say more, but fell silent. Vicki sup-

posed she wanted to get into a long lecture to take her mind

off Ian’s condition, and wished she could help.

‘I don’t know,’ Fei-Hung admitted. ‘What is Hallowe’en?’

Then, to Vicki’s surprise, he winked at her.

‘Hallowe’en is the old Celtic new year,’ Barbara began. ‘And

also when the spirits of the dead were thought to return for

one night, to join in the celebratory feast - if they could.’

‘Then it is probably similar, except that the spirits that

emerge from the hells during yuelaan jit are more likely to be

vengeful, and people try to show respect so that the spirits

won’t haunt them. So they offer food and money.’

‘Is that what you were doing earlier?’ Vicki asked. ‘Burning

money, I mean.’

‘Not real money. Hell money.’

‘Hell money?’

‘Your country and mine have different moneys, different

currencies?’

‘Yes.’

‘So do the lands of the living and those of the dead.’

By now Fei-Hung had led them northwards through the

city, passing parks and workshops, mansions, pagodas and

slums. The difference in sights was impressive enough, but

each area had sounds and smells of its own as if the space

around the different types of neighbourhood had different

properties.

Finally they skirted the edge of a park, making for what

Fei-Hung called the Baiyun road. Across the park Vicki could

see a tall pagoda, brightly lit by oil and gas lamps quite

unlike the paper lanterns that had turned the air in the

streets to blood. Cannon pointed out from the walls around

its grounds, and she could see patrolling men in uniform.

‘What’s that?’ she asked.

Barbara and Fei-Hung stopped to look. ‘Those look like

British uniforms,’ Barbara said slowly.

‘They are,’ Fei-Hung confirmed, tight-lipped. Their main

garrison is on Xamian Island back in the river, but they also

use this as a watchtower.’

‘It doesn’t look like a watchtower.’

‘It was a temple five hundred years ago. The British and

French took it over a few years ago.’

‘During the Opium Wars?’ Barbara suggested.

‘Yes.’ Fei-Hung let out a snort, and turned back on to the

path to the Baiyun road. ‘Come on. The sooner we reach this

box of yours, the sooner your friend will be healed.’

Vicki could have sworn she heard an unspoken ‘gone’

instead of ‘healed’ in Fei-Hung’s voice. It was a moment of

harshness that she hadn’t expected from him.

She remained for a moment longer. The park was at the top

of a hill and the city was spread out below, all the way to the

Pearl River which curved around to the right, parallel to their

path. There were lights on the river as well as on the streets,

drifting gently along in the current. Some were on boats like

the large junk she could make out silhouetted against the

sunset far to the west, but others were clearly floating on the

water under the warm sky.

Then there was a strange flickering in her eyes. At first

Vicki thought it was something actually inside one of her

eyes - a floating cell, perhaps - but she decided otherwise. It

was a feint ripple of light, centred on the junk in the west. It

spread out, looking like sunlight gently kissing the tops of

waves, and continued across the land. It crept across

buildings and lightly touched the sky. Then it was gone, as if

it had never been.

From the deck of the junk Cheng watched the ferryman bring

his boat closer. As far as he was concerned, the man couldn’t

move the thing fest enough. Moment by moment he was

finding it harder to keep control of his bowels. His gut felt as

if it were cartwheeling around the Beijing Opera stage. He

could hardly breathe, and was forcing his lungs to obey him,

when Jiang joined him. Cheng thought his heart was going to

burst and kill him on the spot.

‘It’s you... Don’t do that to me.’

Jiang looked thoughtful and relaxed. Cheng didn’t like this

at all. Anything Jiang liked was usually only good for Jiang,

and equally often bad for someone else.

‘Who is this abbot? Jiang asked.

Cheng stopped concentrating on his breathing and tried to

resist the prickling that took hold of his skull under the

scalp. ‘I don’t know.’

Jiang’s moustache turned up at the ends as he smiled.

‘You were terrified when you saw him. There must be a

reason for that. You have met him before, haven’t you?’

The junk tried to judder round in Cheng’s vision, though it

never actually moved. ‘I saw him once, yes. I don’t know who

he is. I don’t know his name, or where he comes from, or

what he wants.’

‘What do you know about him?’

Cheng’s gut tightened, though he couldn’t tell whether this

was simply from remembered terror or from fear that Jiang

would think he was lying and be offended. ‘I used to be a

bandit.’

‘I know.’

‘The last robbery I did, a group of us attacked a caravan

and looted it. There was myself, Pang, some others. We took

shelter in a cave on a hillside, and there... there these three

monks found us. They attacked, we fought. We got away.’

‘That doesn’t sound like something that would leave my

friend Cheng in mortal terror.’

Cheng looked around for a way out and found none. There

was an open door on the deck, but even if he went through it

Jiang or someone else would ask him about the monks later.

They’d ask again and again until he told them, and if he just

ran away the whole issue would resurface at every

opportunity. There was no escape.

He went into the junk’s galley to pilfer a bottle of rice wine,

and brought it back to the deck. Gathering his thoughts, he

sat on a thick coil of rope, unstopped the bottle, and drank

from it. The wine burnt pleasantly, chasing away the prickles

from under his skin.

‘We didn’t win that fight,’ he admitted. ‘These three monks

were good enough to join the Tigers, and more. They were the

best that Shaolin training has to offer. So they beat us, and

they bound us. Then something happened.’

‘Something?’

Cheng spread his hands and looked helplessly

heavenwards, in search of the right words. ‘The cave wasn’t

just a cave, it was man-made. A great hall, maybe, with

jewels and quicksilver for stars in the ceiling. That night, it

was yuelaan jit and the full moon. And the ghosts came.’

‘Ghosts?’ Jiang echoed, and a couple of men swabbing the

deck behind him looked at each other with varying degrees of

disbelief.

‘I saw lights in the ceiling, flying through the room like

reflections on water. Then that abbot changed and his eyes

glowed like lanterns.’

‘He froze like a corpse waiting for a spell to command it.

That’s when we escaped. The ghosts took that abbot and

maybe the other monks as well. And I came as far away from

that cave as it was possible to get while still being in China.’

Jiang looked back at the doorway to below decks. And now

he’s here.’

‘That’s right.’

‘Are you going to run away again?’

Cheng let out the kind of laugh that desperately wants to

be a tearful wail. It felt like it was slashing at his stomach as

it came out. ‘Where else could I go?’

There was a quiet call from below. The ferryman had

arrived, and Cheng was only too happy to get off the junk.

Jiang watched him go then went back below decks.

2

The evening was peaceful and calm, with birdsong fading.

Vicki was quite enjoying the peace of it - the coolness of the

air, the quiet, the smell of plants and trees. She had almost

managed to dismiss that strange flicker as a figment of her

imagination.

She wasn’t as emotionally attached to Ian as Barbara was,

but she did care about both of them and could feel worry

about them within her. She thought if her worry was making

her vision falter like that, she wouldn’t like to experience

whatever Barbara must be going through. She supposed that

must be a hundred times worse, or even a thousand. Finally,

she decided that maybe she couldn’t actually imagine how

bad Barbara must be feeling.

Barbara was trying to behave normally, of course, but Vicki

could tell the difference.

As the three of them walked under the waxing moon Fei-

Hung dropped back into step with Vicki. The venom she had

seen in his face when they were looking at the tower had

gone, and he now looked at Barbara with reluctant concern.

‘Miss...?’

‘Everyone calls me Vicki.’

‘Vicki... Is Chesterton Miss Wright’s husband?’

‘No. At least not formally.’ She thought about it for a

moment. ‘Actually, I think maybe they are sort of married,

but they just don’t know it yet.’

Fei-Hung smiled faintly. ‘I think I know what you mean.

Sometimes it is just meant to be.’

‘I suppose so.’ She looked at him. He was barely older than

herself, but there was a wisdom in his eyes that was almost

as palpable as the wiry muscles that covered his body.

‘You’re nothing like I imagined...’

Fei-Hung looked puzzled for a moment, then quickly

covered this with an expression Vicki could only think of as

being on guard. ‘You imagined me? You mean you’ve heard of

me?’

‘Oh yes. I’ve seen -’ She caught herself at last. Cars and

telephones weren’t around yet, so she wasn’t sure that

moving pictures had been invented either. ‘I’ve read about

you.’

‘The gwailos - sorry, no offence - the Europeans know my

name? They’ve been writing reports?’

‘Well, not exactly.’

Vicki wondered how the Doctor, Ian and Barbara coped

with not being able to talk about things that were common

knowledge to a time traveller, but a secret of the future to

anyone they met. She doubted she would ever get used to it.

‘You said something about there being a festival on now,’

she said, more to make conversation and relieve the boredom

of walking than actually to learn anything.

‘Yes,’ Fei-Hung nodded. He seemed unsure whether he

should say any more, but finally continued. ‘In the seventh

moon of the year the gates of hell are opened so that the

ghosts of the dead can come and look for food, and take

revenge on people who wronged them. So we make offerings,

and offer prayers, to dissuade the ghosts from harming us. At

the full moon there will be feasts and operas to pacify the

ghosts and bring good luck for the harvest season.’

‘How did this festival start?’ Barbara had joined them. ‘I

mean, there must be a reason why the ghosts would be let

out,’ she said.

‘You don’t believe this stuff, do you?’ Vicki murmured, low

enough, hopefully, for Fei-Hung not to hear her.

‘No,’ Barbara whispered back. ‘But a culture’s folklore is

very much a part of its history, and understanding it helps

you to understand the history.’

‘It’s a very old legend.’ Fei-Hung answered Barbara,

showing no sign of having heard their doubts. ‘Long ago,

before even the First Emperor, there was a greedy, selfish

woman. She never thought of anyone but herself. When the

poor begged for her help in the street, she would laugh in

their faces and push them away.’

‘She sounds perfectly awful.’ Vicki said.

She also had a son, but he was virtuous and kind. Exactly

the opposite of his mother in every way. He had a great deal

of compassion for everyone, and one day he decided he could

best help his fellow people by becoming a monk.

‘This rich woman was very angry with him for that, and

thought he was a fool. Worse, she saw it as a betrayal as she

thought he should be a professional craftsman, who would

earn money and give it to her.’

‘Wasn’t she proud of her son?’

Fei-Hung shook his head. ‘She saw him only as a source of

money. She didn’t love him for himself, as family, but only

loved money and the things she could buy with it. When she

realised he would not change his mind, and would not earn

money for her, she wanted revenge.’

‘On the monks?’ Vicki asked. ‘Did she attack them?’

‘People offered food to them because they had little other

means of supporting themselves…’

‘These monks would be vegetarian?’ Barbara supposed.

‘Exactly. And this woman secretly put meat into her

offerings before giving them to the monks. In this way, she

forced them - however unwittingly - to break their vow that

they would be responsible for no harm coming to other

beings.’

‘Didn’t they know that plants are living beings?’ Vicki

asked.

‘Vicki!’

Barbara turned back to the baffled-looking Fei-Hung.

‘Sorry.’

‘It’s all right. Anyway, this woman was eventually punished

by being sent to a hell where she sat on a bed of spikes,

clinging to a basin of blood. Her son, of course, had

compassion for her as well as for everyone else, and so he

travelled into the hells to find her and try to relieve her

suffering.

‘When he found her he tried to feed her, but the food he

offered would burn to ashes, and water or wine would turn to

blood. So he did the only other thing he could think of - pray

for her. The Buddha heard and was moved by the monk’s

compassion, and decided to intervene. He decreed that once

a year the gates of hell were to be opened for a month, so

that the souls of the damned could return to earth for relief

from their sufferings.’

‘And that’s now?’ Vicki looked sidelong at the shadows that

were falling across the road from trees and bushes.

Superstitions of this sort had disappeared centuries ago, as

far as she was concerned, and yet the darkness seemed more

alive than it had before Fei-Hung told the story. More alive

and, by extension, more intriguing. Vicki couldn’t help but

wonder what animals - or anything else - might be hidden in

the deepening black that was closing in around the road.

She felt a thrill run up her back. It was easy to imagine all

manner of strange creatures - ghosts and dragons, perhaps -

lurking in the shadows, awaiting careless travellers. She

knew such things were just from children’s stories, but it was

kind of exciting to think about running into them.

She wanted to laugh, and to skip along the road the way

she had skipped through the roof-top gardens of her

childhood home, and through the corridors of the Ship she

had been on before she met the Doctor, Ian and Barbara.

Then she remembered the crash, and the deaths, and she

didn’t want to laugh or skip any more. She decided it was

silly to want to seek out monsters and danger - those were

the things that sought you out and killed the ones you loved

when you least expected it.

But she was enjoying the sense of freshness that being in a

new place and time brought her, and wondered if China still

had pandas in 1865. Seeing one of those would probably be

more pleasant than seeing a ghost.

It began to rain and Vicki wished she was wearing clothes

that were more waterproof. And the jacket of Barbara’s

trouser suit wouldn’t react well to the wet if it was as woollen

as it looked.

Fei-Hung put up an umbrella, and both women came

closer to him to shelter under it, though it wasn’t really large

enough to cover three people. ‘How fortunate I am,’ he said.

‘The ladies flock to me like birds to a tree.’

Lei-Fang was gone when Jiang returned to his lord’s cabin.

Whether the militiaman had been taken away for treatment

or tossed overboard, Jiang didn’t know. He didn’t even know

whether Lei-Fang still lived, or whether he had succumbed to

the diabolical wounds that had been inflicted on him. He

wasn’t sure he wanted to know, either.

Jiang opened a shutter set into the wall and looked across

the river to shore. Only the dying lanterns that the junk

passed showed that the vessel was moving at all. Jiang could

scarcely believe that such a smooth journey was possible.

Ahead, a jetty jutted out from a small promontory. It was

half-hidden by bushes and reeds, and the buildings beyond it

were equally well camouflaged by trees.

Jiang watched a column of men march along the riverside.

The smell of burning wood, brick and flesh came before

them, and the low clouds behind them glowed with reflected

firelight. Glints of infernal light caressed the rain- spattered

steel the men wore and carried, giving the column a

glistening, serpentine appearance.

‘Magnificent, are they not?’ The abbot looked out, his

features relaxed. Apart from the armed men, there had been

nothing much to see during the short voyage. Just rice fields

and the occasional village, but the abbot wore the look of an

art connoisseur enjoying his collection.

The sights had bored Jiang. He saw no brothels, or arenas,

or wine shops. The abbot looked as if he was being inspired,

but Jiang couldn’t imagine what could be inspiring him. He

closed his eyes, inspired only to sleep.

‘Men of learning,’ the abbot said suddenly, and Jiang

snapped into wakefulness as best he could, trying not to look

irritated at his master’s timing. ‘Those are the most

important of your targets.’

‘But the foreigners -’

‘- are a symptom of the ill health of my empire’s body under

the Manchu, not the cause of it. To cure the empire, we must

deal with the cause.’

‘Yes, my Lord,’ Jiang acknowledged.

The abbot put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Where your militia

find astrologers, scholars of alchemy, powerful priests, they

will find the empire’s medicine. Those men you will bring

before me. In chains if you have to.’

‘Yes, Lord.’

‘The others who are called - by themselves or others – men

of learning are a different matter. The poets, teachers, weak

priests... those are of no use to us. Those men you shall not

leave alive.’

Jiang hesitated. Killing off Manchus or gwailos was one

thing, but he had nothing against learned men. Except per-

haps one. ‘Lord...’

‘If we are to unify our people against the invader and occu-

pier, we must be sure that they think as we wish them to

think. That they know the great history of their people that

we know. Not what those who collaborate with invaders want

to tell the people.’

Now Jiang saw what the abbot was getting at. He was

shocked to realise that the enemies of his Lord were so close

to home. ‘Teachers who show favour to foreigners?’

‘The worst of our enemies,’ the abbot said.

‘I know such a man. He treats me like a child, and gives

succour to the white man.’

‘Then he should be dealt with,’ the abbot spat.

‘But I am but one man. Our forces can hardly march into

Guangzhou.’

‘Then use your intelligence.’

The abbot’s hand was cold on Jiang’s shoulder, like a slab

of salted pork. Jiang could feel the chill through his tunic

and coat. Strangely, it felt exciting, and inspiring.

‘There is an old saying,’ he said. How better to destroy your

enemies than to let them destroy themselves.’

The abbot, Jiang’s lord, nodded. ‘An old saying, even when

I was young. I approve.’

‘I will begin at once, Lord.’

The abbot smiled again. ‘Begin in the morning. I must give

my troops the same instructions I have given you.’

3

The rain was heavy but not cold, and as there was no wind it

fell straight rather than cutting through them. The road was

made from hard-packed earth, but it was resisting the

attempt to transform it, and only a thin wash of mud

clutched feebly at their shoes. Vicki’s were synthetic, and she

knew Barbara’s would be leather, so it was Fei-Hung she felt

the most sympathy for - she suspected his slipper-like shoes

would let the water through, if not soak it up.

‘I hope the rain doesn’t last long,’ Barbara said. ‘The road

could turn into a quagmire.’

‘It will probably pass quickly,’ Fei-Hung replied.

Vicki sincerely hoped he was right about that. Over the last

few months she had become used to nice, dry climates. Dido,

the planet where she had first joined the TARDIS crew, was a

desert, and there had been uniformly good weather in Turkey

and Italy. Not that she minded rain, having spent so much

time on a desert world, but she would have preferred more,

lighter showers than a solid downpour.

Suddenly, she heard what sounded like a musical note.

Then another and another. It was a voice, not an instrument,

and it seemed to be singing. Neither Barbara nor Fei-Hung

seemed to have noticed it, so Vicki suspected she might be

imagining the sound. Then she heard it a little more clearly.

It was just too distant to make out the words, but the

melody was haunting and faded in and out between the

paths of falling raindrops. She turned her head this way and

that, trying to judge the direction it was coming from. She

finally decided that the sound came from ahead and to the

left - the opposite side of the road to the path to the temple

and the Ship.

The leaves of a flowering bush - Vicki had no idea what sort

it was - rippled slightly, as if the notes were gently caressing

the foliage on their way past it. She stopped and hissed to the

others. They turned.

‘What is it?’ Barbara asked, concern in her tone.

‘Do you hear that?’

‘What?’

‘It sounds like... singing.’

‘Singing?’ Barbara paused to listen. ‘No, I don- Just a

minute... I think I do.’

‘It’s your imagination,’ Fei-Hung said quickly. ‘The sound of

rain hitting leaves, or a bird sheltering from it.’ He shuffled

slightly, putting the umbrella in front of the women as if it

were a colourful fly in front of a fish.

‘No,’ Barbara said, ‘she’s right. There is a voice singing. It’s

coming from over there.’ She ducked out from under the

umbrella and went to the roadside. ‘Look, there’s a path.’

Barbara ignored the rain that was soaking through her jacket

- she felt only a tense urge to get back to Ian and see him

stand again. But she knew that neither Vicki nor Fei-Hung

would be feeling quite the same, and wondered whether it

would really make a difference to Ian if they looked for

shelter.

The Doctor had said he would be able to cure him, so it

would be foolish to get Vicki or Fei-Hung ill for the sake of an

hour or two while the rain passed over. If she had been alone

she would have kept going, but she knew Ian would think of

the others as well if he were here.

‘I think we should find some shelter,’ she said. ‘If that is

someone singing, presumably they’re under cover.’

‘But... Oh, you’d never understand,’ Fei-Hung said.

Barbara thought she heard a tremble in his voice. ‘This is

yuelaan jit, the Festival of Hungry Ghosts. What real person

would be out singing on a night like this?’

‘Gene Kelly, I suppose.’ Barbara sighed at Fei-Hung’s blank

look, then tried not to laugh. ‘I don’t believe in ghosts and

ghouls, and things that go bump in the night. If there is

singing, then it must be a person.’

Fei-Hung opened his mouth to speak again, but Barbara

had turned away and started up the path in the direction of

the singing.

Vicki found the house first.

‘Barbara, Fei-Hung!’

They joined her, and she pointed to a low shape far back in

the bushes. There was a clearing there, and a long roof.

‘Perhaps we can ask for shelter inside,’ Vicki said.

Barbara was in two minds, thinking back to another

desperate night and seeking shelter in another lonely house.

One of her minds reminded her that circumstances were very

different in those days, and that here there was no reason for

fear. The other needled her, reminding her gleefully that

there was no reason to be confident or comfortable either.

To spite it, she started towards the house. Behind her she

heard Fei-Hung say to Vicki, ‘Can’t you reason with her?’

‘I happen to agree with her. You’re not afraid of spooks and

spectres, are you? They’re just stories to frighten children.’

‘There could be bandits.’

‘Then you can fight them off.’

Barbara reached the clearing and the house. The building

was all of one storey, with a wooden table and bench in front

of it. Three steps led up to the door, and all the windows were

covered with shutters made from wood carved into a pattern

so delicate it was almost filigree. The dark tiles on the roof

glistened with wetness, and the walls exuded a clammy

feeling. A faint ripple of light passed across it, perhaps as the

leaves on the surrounding trees fluttered in the moonlight.

Barbara tried to look in through the windows, but the

shutters blocked most of the view and the house was filled

with darkness. She tried knocking on the door, but there was

no answer. She knocked again, and this time the door

juddered open a couple of inches.

She stepped back, startled, ready to apologise when the

occupants demanded to know why she was bursting into

their home. The only thing that emerged from the quiet

darkness within was a faint smell of flowers and incense, just

tangible enough to be pleasant.

Nothing else happened, other than the rain continuing to

patter on the leaves, and Barbara suddenly realised that the

singing had stopped. Perhaps whoever it was didn’t want

visitors, and was playing dumb in the hope that the trio

would pass on by.

‘Hello?’ she called.

No answer.

She heard Fei-Hung beside her, and turned to see him lift a

lamp from a hook on the eaves. It was old and grimy but,

after shaking it and peering inside, he said, ‘There’s still a

little oil in here.’ He pulled out some flint and steel and lit the

lamp.

In the soft lamplight Barbara could see through the gap in

the doorway into the house. The floor was covered in dust

that was disturbed only by old footprints made by small paws

and claws. There was no furniture in the part she could see.

‘It looks deserted,’ Vicki said. She was holding Fei-Hung’s

umbrella now that he had the lamp.

Barbara decided that if anyone was in the house they

would either have come to investigate by now or they were

unconscious and needed help. More likely, they just didn’t

exist. She pushed the door open and it juddered over the

uneven floor. The rest of the room was as bare as the part

she had already seen. There was no furniture, but nor were

there spots of wetness, which meant they could shelter from

the rain.

The three of them went inside and Barbara almost closed

the door, but thought better of it. She didn’t want it to jam

and trap them inside.

‘Well, this is cosy.’

‘I suppose,’ Vicki said doubtfully. ‘Some chairs would be

nice.’

‘Be grateful, Vicki. The roof is solid, so we won’t get any

wetter. The grass is always greener, isn’t it?’

‘What?’ Vicki sank on to her haunches in a corner.

‘People always seem to want more, rather than appreciating

what they’ve got.’

Fei-Hung cast the lamplight around the room. He still

looked a little nervous, but not as nervous as before. His face

set into a look of more practical concern. ‘I’d better check

we’re alone.’

‘Of course we’re alone.’ Vicki said.

‘I meant animals. Snakes, especially, like to shelter in

places like this.’

Vicki immediately jumped to her feet, looking down as if

she expected to see a cobra flaring its hood at her from the

patch of dust she had disturbed. Barbara tried not to smile

too obviously, and Vicki sat back down.

There were only two doors. Fei-Hung shone the lamplight

through first one, then the other. ‘No snakes,’ he said,

sounding surprised.

‘Is there any furniture?’ Vicki asked. Chairs, or stools?’

No.’ He put the lamp on the floor near Vicki. ‘You were

right,’ he said to Barbara. ‘This is a good place to wait out the

rain.’

Barbara wished she could feel as patient about reaching

the Ship and getting the medical kit back to the Doctor as

she had been when she was out in the rain. ‘Are we for from

the TAR- from the old temple?’

The young man frowned in concentration. ‘Perhaps another

half-mile, but the path leading to it will be on the other side

of the road.’

‘That shouldn’t take us long, once the rain has stopped.’

Barbara turned and went to lean against the door, looking

out at the mini-deluge. Though she didn’t like getting wet,

she had always loved watching rain. It was such a fresh and

natural thing, washing away the dirt and dust of the day,

bringing life to trees and flowers, and even the potatoes in

the family allotment. Sometimes she would stand at her

bedroom window, imagining herself to be looking out at a

storm from the wheelhouse of one of the steamers her father

helped to build.

She had once wondered, setting an imaginary course to

search for sunken treasure from the Armada, whether she

could grow up to become a sea captain, but her father told

her that many sailors were superstitious and thought women

brought bad luck. Then, as she got older, she was more

interested in the hows and whys of things like the Armada

than she was in treasure.

Now, in a deserted house in China, she found herself

standing on an imaginary deck, perhaps of a seagoing junk

plying between China, India and far Araby. She tried to recall

the tune of a sea shanty and hum it, but she couldn’t quite

get it right. The wrong notes kept insinuating themselves into

her ears, so that the humming sounded like the melody of

the song they’d heard earlier.

She realised that someone was actually humming the tune,

and turned to berate Fei-Hung or Vicki for doing so.

Her heart sprang for her throat with deadly intent, and

nearly knocked her over, as she saw a woman in a silk tunic

and long silk dress standing at the window, humming to her-

self. Her feet were hidden under the dress, but there were no

wet footprints near her. Barbara’s strangled cry alerted Fei-

Hung, who leapt into a fighting stance, and Vicki, who

cupped a hand over her mouth to stifle a scream.

The woman turned. She was pale and delicate, her skin the

tone of a paper-thin china cup, nearly transparent in its

fineness.

‘I like to watch the rain too,’ she said. Her voice was soft

and distant, but carried quite clearly.

‘You startled us,’ Barbara said. ‘We didn’t hear you come

in.’ How could she have, without brushing past her? Or,

Barbara thought with a shiver, passing through her.

‘I didn’t.’

Barbara immediately felt guilty as well as foolish. ‘I’m sorry

- the door fell open and we called out, but there was no

answer. We only wanted to shelter from the rain.’

‘That’s all right.’ The woman smiled pleasantly. ‘This isn’t

really my home any more, anyway. It used to be.’

Fei-Hung stepped up beside Barbara and said in a low

voice, ‘I looked in both the other rooms. There was no-one

there, and no place for her to have been hidden.’

Barbara felt her insides tense again, just a little. ‘A back

door...?’

‘None.’

Barbara swallowed, hard. ‘We heard singing earlier, the

same tune you were just humming. Was that you?’

‘Yes. I sing to my beloved. He’s dead now.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘That’s all right. He wouldn’t have gone off to the army if I’d

asked him to stay with me.’

Barbara felt an immediate sympathy. The poor girl was

probably still in mourning for a man killed. If the song was a

lament that would explain its melody.

‘It can’t be your fault,’ she said.

‘It was my fault for not telling him I love him, and for not

luring him to marriage. He’d still be alive then, and I’d still be

a lover.’ The woman looked around. ‘The house would not be

so cold and empty.’

Barbara, chilled and touched, couldn’t help looking round

as well, to better empathise with this story. She regretted it

immediately, because the table, chairs, ornaments and

platters of food would have been so enticing if they had been

there even a moment ago.

Now the smell of a large, spicy repast filled a room bright

with the light of many candles, and Vicki was knocking over

a chair as she ran for the door. Fei-Hung was chanting some-

thing, and keeping his guard up, as he physically shoved

Barbara outside.

Fei-Hung cursed himself, and the gwailo women. He had

known the house would be haunted; known it in his heart

and his bones, and he should never have let them shelter

there.

‘Run!’ he told them, pushing Barbara ahead. Neither she

nor Vicki needed to be told twice, and Fei-Hung hoped the

ghosts would not pursue them.

They burst out on to the Baiyun road and headed for the

old temple, pursued only by the soulful notes of the lament

that had drawn them to the house in the first place.

The rain had stopped, thankfully, and it didn’t take long to

reach the temple. Fei-Hung didn’t feel entirely confident that

it would be any more spiritually unpopulated than the house,

but he had nowhere else to go. The gwailos had said this box

of theirs was a place of safety, so even if the temple was

haunted, at least there was some sanctuary to be had.

He recognised the fallen stones and overgrown pathway

from the previous night, and hesitated. Then he continued

towards the box that his father had said must belong to the

gwailos on Xamian Island, and the Doctor had said belonged

to him. Sure enough, Barbara was heading straight for it, a

key glittering in her hand.

Barbara turned this way and that, dizzy from fear and the

pungency of rotting undergrowth. Then she saw the windows

of the TARDIS doors gazing affably at her from the archway,

and felt the weight lift from her shoulders.

She tried the key in the lock. At first she thought it was

going to stick and reject her, but then the door opened. She

entered, embraced by the Ship.

Inside, she could finally relax. The TARDIS was too clinical

and technological to feel like a home, or even a refuge, but it

was welcoming and protective all the same. It would defend

those who travelled with it, and keep them safe while they

were in its care.

Barbara felt the urge to pat the nearest panel of the central

console, and did so a little self-consciously. Maybe it was her

imagination, but the ever-present buzz of the Ship’s

mechanisms seemed to change for a moment, the way a cat’s

purr does when you stroke it. If so, she couldn’t help but

wonder whether the maybe-imaginary change in tone was for

the same reason.

Having caught her breath, she went through into the

antechamber where the food machine loomed. It took her a

moment to realise that the one indented roundel that didn’t

glow was the cupboard door she was looking for. The first-aid

kit and vaguely paintbrush-like object the Doctor had

described were indeed there, along with various other devices

and knick-knacks.

Vicki was torn between following Barbara into the blessed

sanctity of the TARDIS, and staying to reassure the

increasingly jittery Fei-Hung. She paused on the threshold of

the Ship and turned back to him. Barbara would be out in a

moment anyway.

She thought back to what had happened in the house. The

woman appearing from nowhere was bad enough, but the

whole place had suddenly changed. It was like being in a

museum when the holographic exhibits were switched on,

but no such thing had been invented yet.

It must have been a ghost after all.

4

Xamian Island was vaguely cigar-shaped, and nestled in a

bay against the southwest corner of the city where the great

Pearl River split in two. The main river continued

southwards, but another one turned eastwards for a while.

The sun rose, casting light and heat across the roof tops,

and across the parks and courtyards, and across the parade

ground at Xamian, and finally across the faces and skin of

the people who were up and about at that hour.

Sergeant Major Anderson was only 5 foot 4 inches, but

nobody could have mistaken him for anything less than hard

as nails. Perhaps it was the Glasgow accent, or the flattened

nose cultivated by years as a bare-knuckle bantam. Maybe it

was just because no-one in the regiment had ever seen him

smile.

Captain Richard Logan knew better than that. Anderson

was a tough nut, but in Logan’s eyes this was simply because

he was insane. Not in the devil-may-care, courageous way

that the major was insane, but in a sour and sadistic way

that thrived on taking out his troubles on whichever poor

bugger caught his glance the wrong way.

Logan envied the major his extra lie-in in bed. He would

much rather get up at a more leisurely pace than be out here

with the Scottish devil, watching the men form up at reveille.

The company stood in lines and Logan walked along them,

adjusting a button here, ordering a polish there. The sergeant

major, who had already been up for ages and seemed to have

an inhuman lack of need for sleep, marched in step with him,

glowering at the men.

‘Everything seems in order, Sarn’t Major. Have them fall

out for breakfast.’

‘Aye, sir.’ As Logan headed for his own office, where his

batman would already be waiting with his breakfast, he

heard Anderson bellow at the men to fall out and report to

the mess.

Anderson stayed where he was as the men fell out, silently

counting the seconds in his head, seeing how long he could

glare at nothing in particular without blinking. There were

plenty of men around to watch him from the corners of their

fluttering eyes, fearing his wrath, wondering at his motives.

Thinking he was insane, which he knew Logan did. He liked

that, because it kept them on their toes.

After two and a half minutes his eyelids rebelled, forcing a

blink on to his features. He turned on his heel and marched

towards his billet, satisfied that the men’s fear and wonder

had been properly reinforced.

The major felt that another, equally hot and burning, sun

was rising from the nape of his neck to the centre of his

skull. Far from waking him, it baked the inside of his head

and battered the back of his eyeballs with waves of heat. He

reached up to touch the side of his head, behind his ear. The

whole area was hot to the touch under his fingertips, and the

light pressure of his fingers sent a bolt of agony through his

brain that almost had him dropping to his knees with a

scream.

A batman had delivered a tray of devilled eggs, ham, toast

and marmalade to his quarters. The major didn’t have any

appetite, but forced down about half of each thing as he

knew that not eating anything would lead him to feel a great

deal sicker later on in the day.

Then he put on his uniform, and walked around the parade

ground to his office. It was small and cluttered, as company

staff offices usually were in his experience, but a little more

homely than most, thanks to a few souvenirs on the walls. A

picture of the major with his fellow officers at a billet hung

next to the portrait of Queen Victoria. He wondered idly how

he knew who she was. A curved, broad-bladed sword hung

on another wall and, of course, the major’s helmet - currently

resting on a spare chair - had a pagri wrapped round it and

no plume.

He sat down in his chair and turned to look up at the

photographic print next to the portrait. It had a caption

identifying the men as members of a Hussar company at

Jaipur, in 1860. Everyone wore full dress uniform and, after

a moment, the major recognised a face on the far left of the

picture as the same one he had seen in the mirror that

morning. The face in the picture had a full beard rather than

just its present handlebar moustache, but he recognised it all

the same.

‘So, I’ve been to India...’ He looked at the sword on the

other wall. It looked Indian to him, though he wasn’t sure

what gave him this idea. He just felt it.

Before he could explore his office further, there was a

knock at the door.

‘Enter,’ he said.

Logan went into the major’s office with all its souvenirs of

India. The major looked drawn and haggard, which Logan

took to be the result of a painful and sleepless night. Though

he didn’t say a word, the major gave him a mirthless smile

and a nod.

‘That bad, am I?’

‘I’m afraid so, sir.’

‘I’ve had worse. I think.’

‘It was a pretty bad fall, sir. Are you sure you don’t want

the MO to look at it?’

‘I’m sure.’ The major turned his head, pointing to an area

behind and above his ear. ‘It’s just a bump, you see?’

Logan looked at the bump. Even through the hair he could

see that the scalp was swollen and darkening like smoke

from a funeral pyre. When the major turned back, Logan

could see the tension in his jaw and the spectre of pain that

haunted his eyes. At that moment, if he had had the power to

take the injury himself and in the process liberate the major

from it, he would have. Better that than to see the look in the

major’s eyes.

‘I see, sir,’ he said at last.

Much as he would rather the major saw a doctor, Logan

decided he ought to honour the man’s desire to carry on as

normal despite the bump. ‘There are more reports from

Peking,’ he said, ‘and from the Kwantung militia

commandant.’

The major was relieved that Logan was getting straight to

business. He didn’t think he was up to thinking too hard

about things today, but making the effort was better than

letting some quack take the company away from him, even

for a few days.

‘More bandit attacks?’

‘I don’t think we can call it that for much longer, sir. The

brigadier general in Peking is of the opinion that these

attacks on towns have already reached the level of outright

armed insurrection against the emperor. He thinks what

we’re seeing are the first engagements in a civil war.’

The major shook his head, and immediately regretted it as

the pain washed like a tide, breaking against first one side

and then the other. He waited a moment for the waves to

subside, then said, ‘And who does his nibs blame for this?’

‘The Black Flag, of course,’ Logan answered in a surprised

tone. ‘Much Black Flag activity centres on this province, and

he suggests we co-operate with the Kwantung militia to

stamp it out.’

‘I see,’ the major said, rather than admit that he had no

idea who the Black Flag were. Clearly Logan thought he did,

which suggested he was more injured than he thought after

that fall.

The major tried to remember where he had been going

when he had the fall, and felt the blood drain from his face

when he realised he had no idea. He could remember his

agonising impact with the ground, and he knew who he was,

but everything before the fall was a blank.

‘Are you all right, sir?’ Logan looked slightly panicked. ‘I’ll

fetch a doctor

‘No!’ The major forced himself to appear calm, so as not to

upset Logan any further. ‘No, that’s all right. What do you

think of the brigadier general’s theory?’

‘I think nobody has pointed out to him that the Kwantung

militia are largely Black Flag themselves,’ Logan said. ‘The

Black Flag are a nuisance, but they’re more concerned with

getting their own people into government positions, and

getting the Manchus out. I can’t really see them being

responsible for wholesale slaughter of Chinese citizens. It’s

not really their kind of thing, sir.’

‘Then that would suggest someone else is responsible, don’t

you think?’

‘Yes, sir.’

The major thought for a moment. The present and future

were more important than his own forgotten past. ‘We’ll go

along with the idea of co-operating with the Kwantung

militia, but I don’t think we need to make it an operation

against the Black Flag specifically. Whoever is doing this

must be making them pretty angry too, I should think. With

any luck they’ll want to put a stop to it as much as we do.’

Logan smiled brightly and warmly. ‘I think so, too. I’ll get

on with it right away.’

‘Good. Carry on.’

The major returned Logan’s parting salute, and was then

alone in his office. Alone except for an identity that was a

stranger to him, and a past that was as hidden from his

memory as the future.

A quick root through the desk drawers told him what he

needed to know about his current duties, and who the major

figures and factions in Kwantung were. The logbooks and

reports in question were all in his own handwriting. The

major decided he agreed with Logan’s assessment of the

Black Flag, and that it was unlikely they’d be behind these

attacks on towns.

Finally, in the bottom right-hand drawer, he found a folded

double picture frame. When he opened it he found that one

oval contained a picture of himself, rather younger and

cleanshaven. The other picture was of the face of a lady of

about the same age. She was dark-haired and rather

striking. Her image stirred a feeling of comfort and peaceful

warmth that, just for an instant, smoothed out the turbulent

waves in the maelstrom that was his wounded head.

It was both reassuring and strangely disappointing that his

life so far could be summed up by a few items in an office. A

girl, his service record, and images and souvenirs of places to

which he had been posted. It wasn’t much to show for the

distances he’d travelled, or the hundreds of people he must

have met, or the thousands - millions, probably - of words

spoken.

It was as if he had simply chosen one day to reinvent

himself as a character for a novel or the stage, except that he

had no choice in the matter. The chaplain would be horrified

at the idea, but the major decided that his Maker had a

twisted sense of humour.

Logan was about to take a patrol across to the shore when he

saw a commotion at the gate of the garrison. Two guards

were remonstrating with a local and he walked over to see

what was going on.

The visitor was a Chinaman with shaggy hair and an

equally disreputable moustache. Despite this, his clothes

were the finest available from Kwantung’s silk markets and

he carried himself like an athlete. Logan recognised his

bearing at once, as that of a master from one of the city’s

Chinese boxing schools. He also looked vaguely familiar, and

Logan was sure he had seen the man before as a member of

the part-time Kwantung militia.

‘It’s Captain Jiang, isn’t it?’ he asked.

Jiang nodded. ‘Yes, sir.’

He seemed excited about something, in a smarmy sort of

way that made Logan uneasy.

‘It’s in that capacity that I have come.’ His English was slow

and stilted, and heavily accented. ‘I have information of a

crime against an Englishman.’

Logan was immediately interested and alert. ‘Well, out with

it, man!’

‘As you know, I am deputy at the Po Chi Lam surgery and

gungfu school. My sifu, Wong Kei-Ying, is holding English

travellers hostage. One of them, a young man, has been

tortured, and there may be women in the group.’

‘Tortured?’ Logan exploded. He knew immediately that he’d

need to mount a punitive raid, and had no doubt the major

would agree.

‘Beaten severely by several experts,’ Jiang specified.

‘And this man, he’s still there?’

‘Yes.’ Jiang frowned. ‘At least, I think so. The travellers may

have been killed already.’

‘Then there’s no time to lose. Sergeant Major!’

Anderson appeared in a doorway immediately.

‘I want ten men. Captain Jiang of the militia here will tell

you where you’ll be going with them. I’ll fetch the major.’

‘Aye sir,’ Anderson rapped and was gone, Jiang with him.

Logan dashed across the parade ground into the main

company building, and hurried along to the major’s office. He

knocked and was called in immediately.

‘You look as though you’ve seen a ghost,’ the major said,

looking up from the reports he was reading.

‘If we’re not quick we might see a new one, sir. An English

one, at that.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I’ve just been given a pretty queer story by one of our

liaisons in the militia. He says that a group of English

travellers is being held hostage at Po Chi Lam. At least one

has already been beaten within an inch of his life.’

The major looked startled. ‘I’ll come at once.’

Outside the office window the giant, Pang, was unloading

crates from a wagon. Glass clinked tellingly within them.

Pang’s understanding of English was limited, to say the least,

but the words Po Chi Lam’ tripped all manner of alarm bells

in his head.

Without finishing the unloading he hopped back on the

wagon, and made for the bridge back to the shore.

Kei-Ying was taking morning tea in his hall, and greeted the

Doctor with a polite ‘Good morning’ when he walked in.

‘What? Yes, I suppose it’s as best as can be expected,’ the

Doctor said.

Kei-Ying smiled to himself. Some people were not morning

people, and he found no shame in that.

‘My son and your friends will be back soon.’

‘I sincerely hope so. I must confess to a certain impatience

to see Chesterfield, er, that is, young Chesterton there, back

on his feet.’

‘He is important to you?’

‘Everyone is important to me, young man.’

Kei-Ying was a little bemused at being called ‘young man’

for the first time in over a decade.

‘Who did those ruffians think he is?’ the Doctor continued.

‘Neither Chesterton nor myself have been in China for several

cen- for a very long time.’

‘There’s a Chesterton with the British garrison here. He

looks very much like your friend, and I suppose the people

who attacked him must have thought they were one and the

same. Then when they heard that your friend’s name is

Chesterton...’

‘I see.’

‘I myself thought they were the same man, but if you and

he have only just arrived, then it cannot be so. The man they

wanted to hurt has been here for two years.’

‘The same man,’ the Doctor said thoughtfully. He looked

troubled. ‘Is it possible?’

Kei-Ying thought better than to ask what he was talking

about.

The Doctor looked into the distance. ‘Perhaps if we knew

when he had first arrived, and where he was before,’ he said.

He pursed his lips and looked out through the gates at a

figure running through the street. ‘It’s that one-eyed fellow

from the inn where we were set upon.’

‘Cheng?’

Kei-Ying turned, thinking the Doctor must have exceptional

eyesight by anyone’s standards, let alone someone of his

generous years. It was indeed Cheng, running, dodging

basket-laden merchants and almost slipping on fallen fruit.

‘Wong-sifu,’ he gasped, out of breath. ‘Pang just told me.

The English are coming for you.’

‘What?’

Kei-Ying wondered why on earth they would be looking for

him. He and his son helped to train the Guangzhou militia,

who collaborated with the foreign soldiers.

‘They think you’ve kidnapped, or killed, someone.’

‘That’s ridiculous.’ Kei-Ying shivered.

‘I know, but they’re coming.’

Kei-Ying turned to the Doctor. ‘If they see you and your

injured friend here, it -’

‘I understand. It might make them think we are your pris-

oners, or that your people mistreated Ian. But, on the other

hand, perhaps I can help you by putting in a good word.’

‘They’d only arrest you too,’ Cheng prophesied. ‘Say you’re

a traitor or something.’

‘There is that, I suppose,’ the Doctor admitted.

Kei-Ying put a hand on his shoulder. ‘I think the best thing

would be for you to keep watch over Ian until my son and the

women return. His recovery is the most important thing at

the moment.’

The Doctor’s gaze was drawn back indoors. ‘You’re right, of

course.’

‘Stay quiet. Just in case.’

‘As you say.’

The Doctor disappeared into the sprawling surgery and Kei-

Ying seated himself comfortably on a stool on the veranda.

Presently, there was a knocking on the gates at the far side of

the courtyard. One of Kei-Ying’s students rushed across to

see who it was.

‘That will be the British army,’ Kei-Ying called out to him.

Let them in, then tell Cousin Yee to bring tea and yum cha.’

The student paused only to bow before opening the gates.

The visitors were indeed soldiers. The enlisted men looked

nervous, but their rifles were slung over their shoulders and

not in their hands. In the lead were two officers. The younger

one had a plume on his helmet and a Vandyke beard. The

older man had some sort of cloth wound round his helmet in

lieu of a plume, and a handlebar moustache.

‘Master Wong?’ the bearded one asked. Kei-Ying nodded.

‘I’m Captain Logan. We have been given information -’

‘Suggestions

and

supposition,

perhaps,

but

not

information.’

‘We’ve been told that you are holding some English

prisoners.’

‘Prisoners?’ It was all Kei-Ying could do not to laugh.

‘That’s insane.’

‘We have a reliable witness. He says that there’s a beaten

man, and possibly female hostages as well.’

‘There are no Englishwomen here.’

‘And Englishmen?’

‘There are six standing in front of me, so I can hardly deny

that.’

‘Perhaps if we could look around inside?’

Kei-Ying shook his head with a smile. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said,

and meant it. ‘But I have patients who must not be

disturbed.’

‘Master Wong, you strike me as an honourable man, yet

you’re shooting yourself in the foot here. If I didn’t know

better, I’d think you were trying to get me to take you back

for questioning.’ The captain sighed. ‘All right, we do need to

ask you a few questions, if only to determine how honest our

informant is. I have no choice but to place you under arrest

for the moment.’

Kei-Ying had expected no different from such a professional

man. He admired professionalism. ‘I can only tell you the

truth, Captain, and you won’t believe it when I do. So you will

be arresting me whatever happens.’

‘We don’t know that. You’re well respected by the

Kwantung militia, and I sure as hell don’t want to arrest you.

So why not try me?’

Kei-Ying nodded. Fate couldn’t be cheated. ‘Some men

attacked an Englishman at the Hidden Panda. Cheng

brought him here for treatment.’

‘Where is he now?’

Kei-Ying took a deep breath. ‘Standing next to you.’

Inside, in the shadowed coolness of the hall, the Doctor had

been listening. He looked through the interior door to where

Ian lay unconscious, then peered through the latticework

shutters at the soldiers.

The major turned and the Doctor could finally see his face.

His hair had a few streaks of grey in it, and he had a

handlebar moustache the shade of faded ink, but it was a

face the Doctor had become accustomed to over the last

couple of years.

The Doctor’s eyes widened slightly, and he whispered,

‘Chesterton.’

5

Major Chesterton had been sweating under the sun, as much

from the heat inside his skull as from the heat outside. He

had been perfectly content to let Logan do the talking so far

as he didn’t trust himself to avoid slurring his words,

forgetting them altogether or betraying his mental fogginess.

And then Wong Kei-Ying had pointed to him. Chesterton

couldn’t quite deny what he had said, though Logan and

Anderson clearly expected some such outright dismissal.

‘I don’t think I’ve ever been treated by you, Master Wong.

I’m sure I would have remembered.’

Kei-Ying looked him up and down, and his lip curled as if

he was suppressing a pain. ‘I don’t know how or why you

don’t remember, but I treated you last night.’

Chesterton hesitated. Wong looked and sounded sincere,

and if he’d made this statement about someone else he would

certainly have believed him. But since Chesterton knew he

had been with Logan and Anderson and the rest of the gar-

rison last night, he knew Wong was lying. He suddenly felt a

tinge of admiration for the man’s barefaced cheek.

‘You have to come with us, I’m afraid,’ he said.

‘I told you so,’ Kei-Ying said. He looked around at the

students, who were starting to gather around the courtyard.

‘Might I give instructions to my staff to look after the surgery

and school while I’m with you?’

Chesterton agreed immediately.

Kei-Ying went into the hall and spotted the Doctor hovering

in the doorway to Ian’s room, neither quite in one place nor

the other.

‘Doctor,’ he began, uncertain how to proceed. ‘That man

outside... it’s him.’ He pointed to Ian.

‘Yes, I saw. This is a most unfortunate turn of events, my

friend. Unfortunate and dangerous.’

Kei-Ying couldn’t disagree. ‘I will have to go. Somehow I

must make that Chesterton...,’ he gestured to the major, ‘...

understand that I am not his enemy.’

‘I will come and speak to him later,’ the Doctor promised.

In the meantime, I have a favour to ask.’

‘Anything, Master Wong. My friends and I are... well, we are

in your debt.’

‘Someone must take charge of Po Chi Lam while I am at

Xamian. I would like you to do so.’

‘Me, sir?’ the Doctor protested. ‘But I am -’

‘You are a man of medicine, and of reason. Don’t worry

about the gungfu school, my son will handle that side of

things. But Po Chi Lam must stay open for people to visit it

for help when they are ill.’

The Doctor drew himself up, clutching his lapels. ‘I shall do

my best to honour your request, Master Wong.’

‘Thank you.’

Barbara wanted to run all the way back to Po Chi Lam from

the old temple, but her tired legs and feet would never have

been up to the task. She suspected that Fei-Hung might have

managed it - he seemed the athletic type - but in the end

their pace was much the same as when they had walked to

the temple.

As a result, they arrived at Po Chi Lam just in time to see a

British captain with a Vandyke beard escorting Kei-Ying to a

small carriage outside the gates. Another carriage filled with

uniformed men was already rattling unsteadily away.

Barbara didn’t like the look of this at all.

‘What the hell?’ Fei-Hung darted past her and ran down the

street towards the gates. One of the soldiers levelled his gun

at him as he approached, forcing the young man to raise his

hands.

‘It’s all right,’ Kei-Ying shouted, then repeated the words

more calmly. ‘I won’t be gone long.’

Fei-Hung couldn’t take his eyes off the gun, wondering just

how fast a bullet would travel. ‘Is this the thanks you get for-’

‘Never mind,’ Kei-Ying snapped. ‘There are issues here that

I can’t explain. But the Doctor might be able to.’

‘The Doctor?’

‘I’ve put him in charge of the surgery. You know the

training schedule well enough to handle it?’

‘Of course, but -’

‘No buts, son. Talk to the Doctor. He’ll explain.’

‘Those gwailos are a curse on us, Father.’ Fei-Hung could

feel his fists flexing of their own volition.

‘Trust me,’ Kei-Ying said simply, and turned to step proudly

into the carriage.

The men’s words had reached Barbara and Vicki faintly, but

clearly. The women exchanged glances, each wishing to see

whether the other comprehended the situation.

‘What’s happening?’ Vicki asked.

‘They said the Doctor would know, and he usually does.’

‘But Master Wong helped us.’

As Vicki watched Kei-Ying walk out under armed escort

without showing any signs of being ruffled she could, for a

moment, almost see a taller man in his place, proudly

wearing the uniform of the Merchant Space Marine.

Lieutenant Commander Pallister would have responded

exactly as Kei-Ying had. For the briefest of moments he was

there, alive and on duty. Then he was gone, and Kei-Ying was

boarding the carriage, and a tear was on Vicki’s cheek.

The abbot was walking down the gangplank even before it

thumped on to the ground. He was glad to be on dry land

again, and gladder still to be met by such a glorious sight.

Flame cleansed the buildings, while the ragged townspeople

were being organised by his troops and formed into orderly

parties, ready for work.

Zhao and Gao were already ashore, helmetless but in full

armour, poring over a scroll they had unrolled between them.

‘Brothers,’ the abbot called out, ‘well done.’

Gao looked round and snorted. ‘The men of this age are

weak, but they still have some fire in their bellies.’

‘Especially when motivated properly,’ Zhao added with a sly

grin.

‘And the temple?’ the abbot asked.

Zhao became more serious. ‘The local priests we interro-

gated say it burnt down 150 years ago. A new Buddhist

temple has been built on the site.’

‘Raze it.’ The abbot took the scroll and spread it out on the

ground. ‘How many of these sites do we hold?’

‘Directly or indirectly, more than half,’ Gao replied. ‘Most of

the sites are not well guarded, or indeed guarded at all.’

‘I would still be happier,’ Zhao rumbled, ‘if we struck

outward in concentric circles from the origin point. That way

we could consolidate a perimeter -’

‘Which would continually expand until our forces were

stretched too thinly all around it,’ the abbot snapped, disap-

pointed at the answer to his query. He reached out to touch

Zhao’s shoulder. ‘I have my reasons, my general. Have I led

you false so far?’

‘No, my Lord.’

‘Nor will I.’

Zhao lowered his head apologetically. ‘I would never doubt

my Lord. I merely thought to see you conquer that which you

most desire, Lord.’

‘I know.’

‘Of the sites... What of T’ai Shan?’

The abbot grimaced, remembering another time and

another life. ‘Ah, the sacred mountain...’ His eyes narrowed

vengefully. ‘When the time comes, the gods there will not

reject me this time.’ He smiled and looked down, turning his

hands over in front of his eyes.

Quietly, so that only Zhao and Gao could hear, he added,

‘I’ve outlived them.’

6

The wooden floor and walls of the central hall at Po Chi Lam

felt darker to Fei-Hung. Dark, cold and dead. It was like

being trapped in the heart of a dead tree with no way out to

the soft floor of the forest.

He was breathing too fast, and he knew it.

The Doctor was checking through the little case that

Barbara had fetched from the TARDIS. Vicki had tried to

speak to Fei-Hung but he had brushed the little gwailo aside.

The way he was feeling was all the fault of her and her

friends. He clenched his fists.

‘We can’t leave my father in the hands of those barbarian

gwailos... no offence, by the way. He wouldn’t let any of his

friends rot like that -’

‘Indeed, and nor shall we,’ the Doctor said sharply. ‘But we

can’t just go running around like headless chickens, now can

we, hmm? What good would it do Master Wong if we all went

and got ourselves jailed as well? Or worse?’

Fei-Hung glared at him, willing the old man to keel over. He

was too sensible to pretend he didn’t know the Doctor was

right, and young enough to be frustrated by this. ‘Then we

should make sure we don’t get caught.’

The Doctor took up a lecturing pose. ‘And how does anyone

give such guarantees? No, anything we do should be done

with thought and civility.’

‘And what are you planning to do?’

‘First, I shall complete the job of healing my friend that

your father started. Then I shall go and speak to the major

who was here, and try to settle the problem with rationality

and diplomacy, and not some kind of bash-and-dash

nonsense that you young people seem to think is so

important.’

Ian was immersed in pain, the skin boiling from his flesh and

the flesh from his bones, with nothing to cool the water and

restore him.

There was a strange smell of alien herbs in the air, and the

sound of singsong voices. He didn’t wonder where he was -

he remembered they had arrived in nineteenth-century China

- but in a way this was a disadvantage. At least if he couldn’t

remember what had happened, he wouldn’t constantly be

reliving it in his head. Waking or sleeping, the beating had

been an expert one by anybody’s standards, and he had all

the pleasures of remembering every blow in intimate detail.

Then he opened his eyes and knew that the world was for

the most part still a good and just place, because Barbara

Wright’s face was the first thing he saw.

After an hour or so, Ian was able to sit up and take some

soup and tea while the Doctor and Barbara filled him in on

what had happened while he was unconscious. Barbara’s

hand gripped his own with a crushing force throughout their

story, but it was a discomfort worth having.

‘What I don’t understand,’ Ian said at the end, ‘is what

those men had against me. I mean, if they just hated

foreigners or white men... Well, it’s senseless but it happens.

Along with being red on the inside, and thinking that people

who share the same views are right, a dislike for people who

are different is one of the few things that makes all creeds

and colours the same. But those men knew my name and

singled me out.’

The Doctor was packing away his instruments into the

medical kit from the TARDIS. ‘They knew your name and,

yes, they seemed to hold some kind of grudge against you,

though I’ve yet to make the inquiries that might give us a

clue as to why.’

‘But it’s impossible!’

‘No, it isn’t. Not in the TARDIS. Disturbing, yes... Troubling,

yes... But not impossible. It seems, young man, that you are

going to make quite an impression on some future visit.’

Ian’s head was starting to get fuzzy. He could hear and see

well enough, but surely the words were getting scrambled on

the way to his brain. Was the Doctor talking about a journey

in the TARDIS? Ian remembered the TARDIS, but wasn’t sure

he recalled every trip he’d made in it. ‘Future visit? What do

you mean?’

‘You’ll agree that those people clearly knew who you are,

hmm?’

Ian winced as the bruises on his side tried to stretch while

he put his shirt back on. ‘Demonstrably.’

‘Quite so, quite so... But you’ve never been to nineteenth-

century Guangdong before, have you?’

‘Well, you’d know if we’d landed here before.’

‘Of course. So obviously you must return here on a future

journey, but to a point in time some little time before today.

Those people have already experienced whatever it is you’ll

do, but for you it hasn’t happened yet.’

Maybe it was the throbbing pain from the bruising around

his skull, but Ian found himself less able to follow the

Doctor’s explanation than usual. ‘I’m not sure I follow you,

Doctor, but I think I get the basic idea. Not sure I can believe

it, mind you.’

‘Well, I can believe it,’ the Doctor told him, and tapped his

chest with a fingertip. ‘Now, you just be careful until we know

more about how you will end up here.’

Ian shivered.

Barbara cleared her throat. ‘And what about our

unbelievable little incident?’

She and Vicki had told Ian their story too. It had amused

him and lightened his mood, which he supposed was their

reason for telling it. Ghosts, indeed!

The Doctor, much to Ian’s surprise, was taking the story

seriously. ‘It sounds to me, Barbara, very much like you’ve

found yourself a stone tape. Yes, a stone tape.’

Ian and Barbara exchanged puzzled looks.

‘Stone tape?’ Ian echoed.

‘It’s an explanation for ghosts, young man. You have

certain minerals and oxides on the surface of a magnetic

recording tape, yes?’

That much Ian understood. ‘Yes, they form the pattern of

the recording according to what electrical signals the tape

machine receives. Then they’re decoded and the patterns are

converted to electrical signals and played out through a

speaker.’

The Doctor nodded. ‘Now, Chesterfield, many of those same

minerals and oxides are also present in brickwork and

certain types of rock formation. And those can record

electrical signals just like a tape machine and play them

back, d’you see?’

Ian could see what the Doctor was getting at, but a brick

was very different from a piece of tape on a reel. ‘But how?

You’d need a pretty big tape recorder to play a wall.’

The Doctor tapped his forehead. ‘The human brain, dear

boy. It is simply an electrochemical machine, is it not? It

generates signals that can be recorded, and so it can also

decode existing recordings.’

‘I think I understand,’ Ian said doubtfully. ‘You mean if a

brain reacts the right way with one of these stone tapes, it’s

like putting a tape on a player? It plugs an image - a

hallucination, I suppose - right into the brain?’

‘Precisely so. You’re learning!’

‘Thank you, Doctor,’ Ian said dryly. ‘They say doctors make

the worst patients, so I dread to think what sort of students

teachers make.’

‘Ones who can’t be left alone for a minute without getting

themselves into mischief.’

‘All right, I suppose I walked into that one, didn’t I?’

Ian grinned. Whether it was the medicines, the company,

the food or just the Doctor’s acid humour, it had worked. Ian

now found his mind turning over the Doctor’s theory about

himself and the other Chesterton.

‘I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier, about me

meeting those people again in my future but their past.’

‘Yes?’

‘Well, surely that means nothing can happen to us now. At

least until we make that trip.’

The thought made him feel better. He might be hurting, but

at least he could feel confident about walking around in this

time and place, and not have to be constantly on the lookout

for danger. Since boarding the Ship he’d become so

accustomed to staying alert to the dangers they kept running

into that he’d forgotten how much of a strain it could be. He

had also forgotten how comfortable and relaxing it was not to

be looking out for where the next trouble would come from.

The Doctor shook his head, clucking his tongue. ‘I’m afraid

it isn’t quite as simple as that. For one thing, it’s only you

who needs go back and meet those disagreeable fellows at a

later date.’

‘But I can’t fly the TARDIS. Which means it can’t be just

me.’

‘And nor can Barbara or Vicki, neither of whom those

ruffians seemed to recognise.’

This sent a chill into Ian’s bones. Did it mean the girls

didn’t make that trip - and if not, why not? He couldn’t

imagine letting Barbara stay behind somewhere and

travelling without her. The alternatives he could think of were

worse.

‘In any case,’ the Doctor went on, ‘something could easily

happen to you or me. We’re not indestructible, you know.

Time doesn’t make us invulnerable just because we appear to

have an appointment somewhere else.’

‘But if anything did happen to us before -’

‘It would cause a paradox, and that could be a minor

irritant to the universe, or a major catastrophe, but we

should never know which if we’re fortunate.’

Ian had never been particularly superstitious. He didn’t

care about walking under ladders, and could never remember

whether a black cat crossing his path was supposed to be

lucky or unlucky. If someone told him they had a feeling of

danger when none was present - a premonition, he supposed

he would call it - he would dismiss it as just a nervous fear.

None of which stopped a voice in his brain from screaming

that Vicki and Barbara would be in danger here, and that

they should get back to the Ship and leave as soon as they

could.

The fear crept along his arms and caressed his sides, just

under the skin where he couldn’t brush it off. He wished he’d

never had that conversation with the Doctor about being safe

until they came to Canton at an earlier time.

Fei-Hung appeared in the doorway. ‘Doctor. Someone

wants to see you.’

‘Someone?’

‘His name’s Jiang. He’s a teacher at the gungfu school here,

under my father.’

‘Then I shall come along at once.’

Jiang had been careful to get off the carriage a few streets

away and make his way into Po Chi Lam separately from the

soldiers.

It would have been satisfying to see the look on Wong-sifu’s

face, but Jiang wasn’t going to sacrifice his promotion from

deputy to master for the sake of a pleasant image or a quick

gloat. He had seen too many people fall by the wayside

because they were emotional, rather than practical, to make

the same mistake himself.

When he had seen Wong Kei-Ying boarding the carriage

Jiang had run straight over, knowing that Kei-Ying, Fei-Hung

and anyone else who was around would see that he was not

with the soldiers, and that he was as surprised as they were.

‘Sifu’, he cried out in feigned, but convincing, anguish. ‘What

is happening?’

‘It would seem I am under arrest for the moment,’ Kei-Ying

said.

He didn’t seem too concerned, but this didn’t worry Jiang.

Kei-Ying had never let anything get on top of him, for as long

as Jiang had studied under him.

‘It is, of course, merely a misunderstanding,’ Kei-Ying con-

tinued.

‘Nonsense,’ Jiang snapped. ‘It is an outrageous slur. You

need only say the word and I will deal with these guards,

and-’

‘No, you will not.’

Jiang waited expectantly for Kei-Ying to continue. He had

no idea what he would have done if Kei-Ying had told him to

go ahead.

‘The school and the surgery are more important. Their

names must not be besmirched.’

‘I will look after them well during the moments you are

absent,’ Jiang promised.

‘That won’t be necessary,’ Kei-Ying told him.

Then he smiled and there was something in this smile that

Jiang didn’t like. Recognition, perhaps, or worse,

understanding. Wong-sifu had always been a good judge of

character and this unnerved Jiang.

‘The Doctor will administer the school and take over the

surgery during my absence. He too is a medical man, and I

sense wisdom in him.’

Jiang felt his cheeks sting and burn. ‘You’re turning Po Chi

Lam over to that gwailo? I am your deputy -’

‘And a good one, Jiang, but you’re not ready yet. Don’t

worry, it won’t be long.’

Then a soldier was pushing Jiang aside with a casual shove

of his rifle, and the carriage was moving.

Now, looking into the Doctor’s eyes, Jiang knew why Kei-

Ying had chosen him. The Doctor held his gaze with the same

air as Kei-Ying did, and judged his character in the same

way.

‘And what can I do for you, young man?’.

Jiang didn’t hesitate. ‘Accept my challenge.’

The Doctor blinked. ‘Challenge? What challenge? What are

you talking about?’

Jiang smiled, but the smile remained strictly confined

between his chin and his moustache. ‘It is a tradition here

that the master of a school must be able to defend himself

against any master of any other school. If you wish to stay

master of this school, old man, you must prove yourself

capable by fighting and defeating me. The day after

tomorrow, at noon, Doctor.’

‘And what if Wong-sifu is back by then? Did you ever con-

sider that?’ The Doctor didn’t wait for Jiang to answer. ‘No, I

didn’t think so. You young people aren’t the considering

types, are you?’

‘Consider this, gwailo. My most difficult task will be to

decide whether to kill you or merely maim you. Make your

peace with your god, and I will return on Saturday at

midday.’

CHRPTER THREE

Warriors Two

l

Ian had taken the opportunity to explore Po Chi Lam while

the Doctor was speaking to Jiang. Two main wings split off

from the central hall, and the general effect was a cross

between a rather Spartan stately home and an oriental tea-

room. Unlike a western stately home the building was all on

one level, though the ceiling of the hall was high enough to

accommodate another floor. Everywhere within it smelt of

jasmine and sweat, and warm dust creeping in through the

doors.

The surgery was in the west wing and seemed to be a kind

of outpatients" accident and emergency room. No-one else

was staying there, but some of Kei-Ying"s students were

preparing herbs and spices for potions and poultices, while

others applied plaster to the broken wrist of one of the

martial arts students from the east wing. There was a

training hall there, but it was very small as most of the

training was done outside in the courtyard. There were

private apartments in the east wing, but Ian didn"t go into

them. He felt enough of an interloper as it was, and didn"t

want to taint his gratitude to the Wongs by trespassing.

He felt strangely comfortable at Po Chi Lam. Something

about the wood on the floors was just right. It felt not too new

to have a personality of its own, and not too old. It was com-

fortable and assured.

„Doctor, I"ve been thinking," Ian began, when he returned to

the main reception hall.

The Doctor was walking slowly back into it, looking rather

bemused.

„If we"re staying here for a few days, perhaps we should

take proper lodgings at an inn or hotel. I"m grateful to Master

Wong, but I don"t want to seem like a limpet -"

„And what happens the next time someone can"t tell you

from... you? Hmm? I should say you would have a season

ticket to this surgery anyway. Besides which, if I am to be

looking after this place for Master Wong, then I have to be

here. And not somewhere else."

„I thought you"d see it like that," Ian admitted, but the

Doctor had already wandered a little way off again. „Are you

all right?"

„Yes, yes, Chesterman. I was just pondering how best to

engage in the duel to which I have just been challenged."

„A duel?" Ian exclaimed. He could hardly believe what the

Doctor had just told him.

Fei-Hung came running at the sound of Ian"s exclamation.

„Do you know what he"s talking about?" Ian hoped that, as

an independent witness, the young man would be able to set

his mind at ease on this point.

Fei-Hung nodded reluctantly. „Jiang, one of my father"s

deputies, has challenged Doctor-sifu."

„Yes," the Doctor said, „and I must say I"m quite surprised,

too. But the man has issued his challenge -"

„It doesn"t necessarily follow that you have to accept it!" Ian

protested.

„Oh, but it does. It"s the custom here, you see. Master Wong

has entrusted me with looking after Po Chi Lam until we get

this nonsense about his incarceration sorted out. Since there

is a custom of challenging the masters of different schools, so

that they may prove their worth, it would seem that I ought

to accept."

„But you"re not a... a kung fu master, or whatever they call

it." Ian hesitated. The Doctor was a lot older than he seemed,

and had an almost limitless amount of experience at the

most surprising things. „Are you?"

„Until Master Wong comes back, it would appear that I am.

And if I am to honour his request and the trust he has placed

in me, then I must respond to this challenge as any master

would."

Fei-Hung shuffled slightly and, not meeting the Doctor"s

eyes, said, „Ches- Ian is right."

The Doctor glared at them. Are you implying that I"m too

old?" he asked sharply. „The old boy"s past it - is that what

you think?" He drew himself up proudly. Haven"t you looked

around, young man? Many of the most respected masters

here are men you would probably consider frail and past

their sell-by date."

Ian winced, recognising the verbal minefield he and Fei-

Hung had blundered into. He certainly didn"t want the

Doctor"s temper to explode. „I just meant that those

medicines of yours from the TARDIS have done the trick. I

feel as fit as a fiddle, and it"d be a shame to let that go to

waste."

The Doctor looked down his nose at him, clearly not fooled.

„And tell me, Chesterton, are you experienced in the martial

arts? Hmm?"

Ian flexed his fists. „I boxed a little during my National

Service days, yes."

The Doctor snorted. „But the styles of Chinese wuxia are

hardly Marquess of Queensbury. Do you have any experience

with them?"

„No, but -"

„Exactly! In other words you"d be just as foolish as you

accuse me of being, wouldn"t you?"

Ian couldn"t really deny this, but nor could he find the

words to say that it didn"t matter so much if he got beaten up

again. After all, he wasn"t needed to control the Ship if it

came to it.

„The Doctor has a point," Fei-Hung said to Ian. „There are

many aged masters who are more than capable of winning a

bout just like this one."

„Yes, but -"

„Some are even older than the Doctor."

The Doctor chuckled. „I should find that a little difficult to

believe."

„Doctor, this man is a younger, stronger expert in martial

arts," Ian said. „How on Earth will you defeat him?"

„With brains, dear boy. The intellect. Brains will win over

brawn every time, and there I have the distinct advantage,

don"t you think?" The Doctor chuckled to himself and looked

smug.

Ian couldn"t understand him. For some reason, he seemed

to be relishing the prospect of the duel.

Cheng put a bottle of something on a table in the Hidden

Panda, and started to drink from it. There was no label on it,

and he hadn"t bothered to check what it was. So long as it

was alcohol, then sooner or later it would deaden his hands

so that they stopped shaking, and flush away the worry

about what he should do next. If it didn"t, then at least it

would drive him to unconsciousness and he wouldn"t be

thinking enough to worry.

He was still frustratingly sober, and shaking, by the time

the bottle was all but empty. He swept it aside and went to

his room at the back of the building, and lifted up the stone

he kept the takings under. Neither the restaurant nor the

honest life per se were very profitable, but there was enough

for a fast horse and a small cottage somewhere in the

endless, muddy fields of the northeast.

When he straightened up he found Pang looking at him

with a kicked-puppy expression. „You"re leaving?"

„We"re leaving," Cheng corrected him.

„We are?"

„We are if we have any sense."

He scooped up a handful of coins and pressed them into

Pang"s clammy hand. He started looking for his saddlebags,

which he had kept for such a contingency. The room was

such a mess of empty bottles and unwashed clothes that it

could take a week to find them, but Cheng didn"t let this stop

him. He knew that if he stopped he"d shake and gasp for

breath.

„Remember that last caravan we robbed? Two years ago?"

Pang nodded.

„Remember the cave and the three monks?"

Pang nodded again.

„I saw them last night."

Pang"s head whipped around, as if the monks were

sneaking up on him at that very moment. „They"re here? In

Guangzhou."

A moment of calm overtook Cheng, and he knew Pang

would have to hear about what had happened. „They

mutilated Lei-Fang."

Pang"s mouth opened slightly, his eyes widening. Then his

face crumpled. „No..."

„Yes. And -" Cheng"s voice broke, and he sat down on his

flea-ridden cot, head in hands. „I didn"t do anything, Ah-

Pang. I just wanted to get the hell out of there. I don"t know

how they came to be above Lei-Fang in the Black Flag, but

they"ve got half the militia eating out of their hands."

„Lei-Fang..."

Cheng nodded, and put his arm around Pang. He could

barely reach.

„We have to go. I think the abbot recognised me."

„Why?"

„Well, he said -"

„Why do we have to go?" Pang asked patiently.

Cheng leant back. „You must be joking. They"ll be after us -"

„We should be after them," Pang said quietly. „Lei-Fang was

your friend."

Cheng knew that; the little piece of emptiness in his heart

was reminding him of it every moment.

„We ran as far as we could, didn"t we?" Pang asked.

Cheng sniffled. He wiped his nose and eyes on his sleeve.

„I think we did."

Fei-Hung arrived at the Hidden Panda, and almost walked

straight past it because all he could see was Miss Law"s face

looking up at him, bathed in moonlight. She would be

worried already, and if she didn"t hear from him soon her

parents would probably think he was no better than any

other young man.

Fei-Hung knew he was better. Better for Miss Law, anyway.

He took a couple of steps backwards and entered the

Hidden Panda. The Doctor had left the scheduling of training

sessions to him, and it was time to talk to Cheng about the

progress of his Black Flag class.

He found Cheng and Pang at the back of the inn, sitting

over a few bottles. Three were empty, the fourth was getting

there.

„He"s more than a match for us," Cheng was saying. „You

remember that." Pang nodded.

„And anyway, he"s one of our brothers now. Can we -" He

broke off when he saw Fei-Hung. „Sit down, come on. Have a

drink on the house."

Fei-Hung wasn"t stupid enough to turn down a free drink.

Or he wasn"t smart enough - he never could decide which. He

took a swig from the bottle and immediately wished he could

cough the fire out of his throat and chest. His eyes watered

and he slumped into a chair.

„What is that?"

Cheng looked at a label. „Peppered vodka. No wonder the

Russians are so bloody annoyed all the time."

Fei-Hung grabbed a jug of water and poured half of it down

his throat. „Bloody hell." He coughed. „I came in to talk about

the Black Flag -"

„Yes, we were just talking about that, and what we"re going

to do."

„With my lather in jail I have many extra duties at Po Chi

Lam. I"m not sure I"ll be able to take both training sessions

this week."

„Neither are we. Sure we can make it, that is." Cheng tried

to look vaguely in the direction of Fei-Hung. „We"ve found a

moral objectification to... to... to the new guy."

„New guy?"

„Some sort of abbot. He ate Lei-Fang for dinner, I think, so

I"m trying to decide what to do. Kill my brother or keep

running."

Fei-Hung sighed and rose. „I"ll come back tomorrow when

you"re not drunk. All things in moderation, you know." He

grinned. „But not too much."

When Fei-Hung had gone Cheng looked at Pang. „I don"t

feel drunk, do you?" Pang shook his head and fell forward on

to the table, snoring.

„Oh, he meant you," Cheng said, understanding.

Fei-Hung started towards the Law family"s house, but

stopped after a few yards. Something about Cheng"s words

triggered alarms in his head. He went back to the Hidden

Panda, but Cheng and Pang were both in a drunken stupor,

snores blowing bubbles from their lips.

He tried to wake them, but it was like trying to wake the

dead. After a few moments Fei-Hung decided to tell the

Doctor about them, and returned to Po Chi Lam.

The Doctor was experimenting with herbs and spices, con-

sulting a notebook as he opened each jar or sachet.

„Doctor-sifu," Fei-Hung whispered, careful not to disturb

the patients in the surgery.

„Oh, it"s you, young man." The Doctor put away his

notebook. „Is anything wrong?"

„I"m not sure," Fei-Hung admitted. „Cheng and Pang - the

men who carried your friend here when he was attacked - are

behaving most oddly."

„In what way odd?"

„Something about someone eating his brother or

something."

„Good grief! Do you mean to say cannibalism?"

„Not literally - at least I don"t think so." Fei-Hung sat back

on his heels. „I think it was something to do with the Black

Flag militia. They"re both members -"

„As are yourself and your father."

Fei-Hung gave a guilty start. „Well, yes. But I get the

impression that something is happening. A coup in the

ranks, perhaps."

„Life is a matter of shifting balances and changing alle-

giances," the Doctor said. „Whether we like it or not doesn"t

make a difference. In any case, it"s not my place to interfere

in your local politics."

„I was just wondering if the politics were interfering with

you." Fei-Hung lowered his voice. „Jiang is also a member,

and he is ambitious."

„I see," the Doctor said wearily. He sat down with a sigh.

„You know, I do so wish people would stop trying to involve

me in other people"s affairs. Or their own."

Major Chesterton had finished writing out the report on the

morning"s arrest, and a small snifter from the drinks cabinet

in his office had helped relax him and ease him into the

paperwork. He wished he knew just how reliable this Jiang

was. Anderson and Logan seemed to trust him well enough -

as much as either of them trusted any Chinaman - but

Chesterton couldn"t help dwelling on the fact that the man

was betraying his own superior.

No officer and gentleman would do such a thing for his own

advancement, but Jiang didn"t have the eyes of a gentleman.

He had the eyes of a snake, and the tongue of its charmer.

Chesterton wondered briefly if his opinion was merely

instinct, or if he had had some experience of the man before.

He read over the report and visualised Jiang"s waxed, droopy

moustache, and hoped this would trigger a memory. It didn"t,

so, tossing the report away with a snap of the wrist, he

decided to try another tack. He would go and speak to the

prisoner.

He went over to the glasshouse at the western end of the

garrison, and ordered the private on duty to open the door to

Kei-Ying"s cell. The middle-aged Chinaman was sitting on the

floor in the lotus position. Probably asleep, Chesterton

thought, though no doubt the man would call it meditation.

„Good evening, Major," Kei-Ying said without opening his

eyes. „How can I help you?"

Chesterton wasn"t sure what to ask. „Did we know each

other before?"

„I believe so, but only briefly," Kei-Ying said.

„You say you treated me once."

„Yes. Last night."

„You know I can"t accept that. But I can believe you"re

simply mistaken about when it was."

Kei-Ying opened one eye. It was calm and clear, and, in a

way, relaxing. It put Chesterton at ease. „Can you?"

„Yes." Chesterton stepped into the cell and sat on the cot

against one of the walls. He knew Kei-Ying could probably

take him with that strange type of boxing the Chinese did,

but he didn"t see any sign of hostility in the man"s eyes. „If

you know me, what do you think of me? What sort of man

am I?"

„You have always seemed a fair man. Open-minded, chival-

rous, brave and caring. Loyal to your friends."

„Sounds like a proper chivalrous knight," Chesterton said

wistfully. He held up his glass to the light, examining the

liquor. But it doesn"t sound much like the man I hear talk

about. The one whom half of Kwantung wants to punch in

the face."

„Perhaps something happened to you, changed you."

„Maybe. People do change, don"t they? And not always for

the better. My old dad used to say that."

„He sounds like a wise man."

„You only say that because you don"t know him. He was a

drunkard and a gambler, and couldn"t tell the difference

between his marriage bed and a whorehouse." Chesterton"s

mood had changed now and he sighed. „Is there a reason for

the hatred I get when I show my face in your streets? Or is it

just because I"m the symbol of a foreign law?"

Kei-Ying closed his eyes for a moment. „I hear tell of villages

being burnt, ships attacked by pirates, caravans falling prey

to banditry... but not of raiders being arrested or murderers

and bandits caught. We don"t hate you because of what you

do. We despair at what you fail to do. We know a Han

government could keep the order you fail to deliver. And we

know we would avenge the sons and daughters whose deaths

don"t seem to divert you from your plunder."

Chesterton stood up. „We"ll talk again in the morning."

He didn"t look back as the private re-locked the cell door.

He walked more slowly on the return journey to his office.

There must be a reason why he was so weak, so powerless.

He slumped into his chair. Perhaps if he dozed off his

troubles would disappear in the night. Trying to solve them

just seemed to breed more and more problems.

He took out the frame that contained the pictures of

himself and the striking woman, and touched her face. It

didn"t connect him to her any more than just looking did, but

he pretended it did. He pretended his fingertips were

brushing over soft skin, and that he was rewarded with the

breath of a kiss. He pretended he knew who she was, in the

hope that his pretence would come true and his life would

make sense again.

She didn"t speak, or blink, or blow a kiss. His fingertips

hissed over paper until he snapped the frame shut. Where

was this woman now, he wondered? The inscription made it

clear that she and he were lovers, so why was she not with

him? Was she looking after their children, back in England?

Did she leave him for a man who would be there at night,

and not travelling the globe? Was she pining over an identical

picture of him, her heart soon to break because he had

forgotten to write this week?

Any other explanation was too painful to think about. If he

had lost her, a loss repeated or, worse, relived, would be a

loss more than just doubled.

It was almost sunset when Cheng woke. Pang was still

snoring, and perhaps this was the noise that had woken him.

He groaned and found a pitcher of water to drain. Beyond

Pang, a few more crates of the vodka were stacked near the

door ready for delivery to the Scottish sergeant major.

Cheng found he had no enthusiasm for completing the job,

but then he remembered the way Anderson had talked about

his daughter. Maybe he wasn"t a bad man for a gwailo. It

occurred to him that perhaps the sergeant major could be of

use to him in his dilemma, especially if he could talk the

Scotsman into helping him.

Cheng opened the door and started lugging the crates

outside. He had the wagon loaded in record time, and was

soon clattering off to Sa Meen island, which the Wongs, who

were not Cantonese, called Xamian. He had no trouble

getting across the pontoon bridge that linked the island

garrison to the riverside. By now the guards were used to his

wagon with its legitimate deliveries and its special cargoes for

Sergeant Major Anderson.

He stopped the wagon at the wash house and waited for

Anderson to appear. Every part of his brain was rebelling,

telling him he was drunk and should run like hell. Cheng

ignored this, and soon saw Anderson emerging from the

cookhouse on the corner. He hissed to him and Anderson

turned. The sergeant major"s eyes widened and he marched

over to Cheng at double time, his eyes flicking left and right.

He pushed Cheng into the shadows between two barrack

blocks. „What are ye doing here?"

„Delivering the rest of your order."

„And d"ye expect me just to hand boxes of ammunition over

to a Chinee in front of everyone? Jesus Christ!"

„No, I don"t want it any more. Here it is, the remainder of

your crates. Don"t drink it all at once."

Anderson snorted. „I wouldn"t let a drop of this devil"s brew

past my lips to save my life. But it"ll bring a good profit."

Cheng laughed. „Buy yourself a ticket home, my friend.

You"ve told me enough about Megan that I know you are a

good father. You should go home and be one."

„Are ye threatening me, trying to get rid of me? Or trying to

warn me about something?"

Cheng hesitated. „I"m not sure," he admitted.

„I suppose it depends whose side you"re on."

Cheng shook his head. „I don"t know who"s on what side

any more."

Anderson frowned.

„There"s something else I want instead," Cheng said.

„And that would be?"

„To talk to Wong Kei-Ying."

2

Barbara couldn"t get enough of seeing Ian up on his feet,

behaving normally. Normalcy wasn"t something people

usually considered wonderful, but today she felt that Ian

being normal was wonderful. It was wonderful because

normalcy meant he wasn"t ill, he wasn"t in pain and his life

wasn"t fading before her eyes.

„You look like you"ve won the pools," he had said earlier.

„I did. The jackpot." His face had softened then, and she

had held him for a long minute. „I thought -"

„I know. I"ve been there. There and back again."

Barbara chuckled. „That"s a thought, actually. We saw that

house last night, but I wonder if -"

„- if it"s still there in the cold light of day?" Ian nodded to

himself, rubbing a sore spot on his chin. „I think some fresh

air might do me good, actually. And it looks like being a nice

day. I"ll just go and tell..." He fell silent with a grimace.

„Trouble?" Barbara asked, seeing the darkness in Ian"s

expression. She felt a sudden weakness at the thought that

the Doctor"s medicine might be wearing off. What if Ian"s

injuries were causing a relapse?

„Are you hurt? Is the Doctor"s medicine wearing off?"

„No," he said with a sigh. „It"s this duel of the Doctor"s. He

must be mad."

„I expect he knows what he"s doing, and has some kind of

plan," she lied. Ian had had enough to worry about since they

arrived here without this as well.

„I hope you"re right."

„You know I am. It"s not the first time he"s got into a scrap."

„With an expert?"

„Ian Chesterton," she said in her best classroom voice, „I do

believe you just like to look for things to worry about. It"s as if

you"re addicted to it."

„Believe me," Ian said with a smile, „I"d be only too happy

never to find a problem again. It"s not my fault if worries keep

finding me."

„Then I"m taking you to somewhere that they won"t find

you. Or if they do, at least they might help settle the

questions I"ve been asking myself since last night."

„As my lady commands," Ian quipped, with a faintly

ridiculous courtly bow that belonged in one of Coal Hill

School"s drama group productions. „Actually, maybe we

should ask the Doctor to come with us. He seemed to have

more ideas about this house of yours than I might have."

Barbara grinned. „He"s on teaching duty, and it"s an

extended midterm break for us."

„There is that," he had agreed, and so they had gone.

Ian borrowed a hat to shade his eyes and partly cover his

face, so that no-one would recognise him as they passed

through Canton.

Barbara had been half-afraid - more than half, if truth be

told - that the house would be gone. After all, none of them

had noticed it on their original journey into Canton the

previous morning, and she had an unreasoning suspicion

that it had appeared just for last night"s performance.

Her fears were unfounded. The house was still there, its

colours muted and dusty, all the paintwork it had ever had

faded by long years under the sun.

Ian had been half-expecting something Charles Addams

might have drawn, then, remembering where he was, had

amended his mental image to a sprawling pagoda with lots of

dark windows and bats in the rafters.

What Barbara led him to was just a little bungalow, built in

a typical Chinese plaster-and-tile fashion. In the daylight the

house was rather grimy and run-down, but it didn"t look at

all threatening or spooky to him.

„Are you sure this is the place?" he asked.

Barbara nodded. „It looked quite different last night."

„It must have done, from what you and Vicki told us."

There were roses growing around an old bench and table

outside. The door was still solid, but it was ajar and Ian

pushed experimentally against it. It was stiff, but opened

under relatively little pressure and he went into the house.

Although it had rained overnight, the interior didn"t smell

damp. Rather, it smelt of warm clay, with the scent of flowers

keeping it fresh. It made the air a little thicker than Ian

would have liked, but certainly not unpleasant.

The large room was dark even in the morning sunshine.

Moss had taken hold in the walls and there was no sign of

furniture. The only footprints in the dust on the bare

floorboards were his own. A couple of other smaller rooms

were separated from the big one by wooden partitions. Ian

went through to the one on the left and found a large,

wooden table and empty shelves. It was clearly a kitchen. The

other room was as empty as the first, but Ian was fairly sure

it must have been a bedroom.

„It doesn"t look like anybody"s lived here for years," Barbara

said.

She was standing in the larger, main room, looking around.

Perhaps it was Ian"s imagination, but it seemed unusually

quiet in the house. It wasn"t just that the walls blocked the

sounds outside, of birds and rustling leaves, but their voices

seemed muted in some way.

„No." Ian looked around. It was a nice enough house, but

seemed forgotten in its corner of the roadside. He didn"t

believe in ghosts, but shivered nonetheless. „Still, it"s a handy

place to shelter from some rain."

„And not leave any footprints?"

Ian could only shrug. „You came in last night, didn"t you?

Yet you didn"t leave any footprints either and we both know

you"re not a ghost. This must be a different house. The one

you sheltered in must be somewhere else along the road.

Either we"ve missed it already or we haven"t reached it yet."

„And this one?"

„This one would be easy to miss in the dark."

„Ian, it is this house. I recognise it. That little table outside,

the rose bush, the well."

„It"s probably the typical layout for a house in this time and

place. And even if it was this house, I can guarantee you

there"s a more rational explanation than ghosts and ghouls

and things that go bump in the night."

„Such as?"

Ian hesitated, trying to think of a single rational

explanation. „I dunno... Perhaps some more dust shook loose

from the ceiling after you left and covered up the prints."

„That"s even more far-fetched and you know it, Ian! For one

thing it would need the dust to be lying on the ceiling while

Vicki and Fei-Hung and I were here. You might be the

scientist, Ian, but I think that if anyone had repealed the law

of gravity it would have been mentioned in a lot of very

important history books."

„I suppose you"re right. Actually, I"m beginning to wonder a

little more about this “stone tape” theory of the Doctor"s."

Barbara laughed. „That was rather outlandish, wasn"t it? It

was all Greek to me. I don"t suppose you have a better idea of

how believable it is?"

Ian had been thinking about it. Earlier he would have said

the theory was pure science fiction, but now he wasn"t so

sure. He knelt beside a wall and used a penknife to scrape

some plaster away from the bricks.

„The Doctor could have a point. Tapes do record and read

signals by magnetically affecting particles of iron oxide and

the like." He tapped the wall. „And there are iron oxides in

bricks like these..." He stood up. „I think I"d like to keep an

open mind about it, at least."

Barbara stepped outside the house and went round the

corner. Ian stayed where he was, looking for signs of hidden

doors or some way out at the back. He didn"t find anything.

„Ian!" Barbara shouted suddenly, „Come quickly!"

Ian was moving at once, crashing through the overgrown

garden to the back of the house. Barbara was keeling in a

clearing, rubbing at a plank of wood that jutted up from a

low rise. She wasn"t in any danger, so he slowed to a walk to

cover the rest of the distance.

„What is it?"

„Ian, I think it"s a grave."

Ian looked at the plank. It was carved with Chinese char-

acters that he couldn"t read. „It looks like one, I agree. But

what difference does that make?"

„Perhaps it"s hers; the girl from last night, I mean."

Ian suppressed a laugh. „Why should it be? This could be

anybody"s grave - if it even is a grave." He pointed to the

inscription. „Unless you"ve suddenly developed an ability to

read that."

„No, I just have... I don"t know, a feeling."

He was tempted to push the issue further but something

about her tone stopped him. She was serious and, while she

had no proof, neither did he. It was just a matter of her

feeling against his, and he knew she wasn"t really any more

superstitious or gullible than he was. Her earnestness also

surprised him, and he liked it when this happened. They"d

been travelling together in the Ship for two years now, and

knew each other pretty well, but moments like this still kept

her surprising and fresh.

He realised she was looking at him while he was standing

there smiling, and cleared his throat.

„You seem happy," she said.

„I was just thinking about this place. This isn"t too bad an

era, Barbara. The height of the British Empire, London the

premier city of the world. Not a bad era to live in."

„I suppose not. But what would our children think?

Workhouses? The trenches? The Blitz?"

„You"ve got a point there." He looked back at the house,

then at Barbara. „“Our” children?"

The human race"s generally."

„Oh."

Barbara looked at the house again, thoughtfully. „She said

something, you know."

„Who? The girl last night?"

„Yes. She said that her only regret was not seizing the day.

Apparently someone she loved said he"d go off to the army if

she didn"t want him, and she didn"t talk him out of it. When

he got killed she realised her mistake."

Ian had heard this story before, several times. „It"s a tradi-

tional ghost story plot, I"ll give you that." He squatted beside

the grave, if a grave it was, and patted it. „Perhaps this is his,

rather than hers. Maybe she comes up from the city now and

again to tend it, and got caught in the rain."

This, Ian felt, would satisfactorily explain Barbara"s

encounter without recourse to the supernatural.

„You"re probably right," she admitted. „It"s hard to tell the

ages of Chinese girls. I suppose she could have been older

than I thought."

Something in her voice sounded different and alerted Ian.

He had the sudden uncomfortable feeling that they had been

talking at cross-purposes, and that something was about to

hit him out of the blue, but he couldn"t think what. All he

knew was that his stomach was suddenly jittery about what

it might be.

He realised what was going to happen, just a heartbeat

before Barbara kissed him.

„What are you doing?"

„Seizing the day."

„I thought we"d seized this day before."

Eighteen hundred years before, he added mentally.

„But I didn"t say I love you. And I do." So saying, she kissed

him again.

Major Chesterton dozed in his quarters, trying to seek respite

in unconsciousness. Whichever way he lay seemed to make

the ache in his skull feel worse, which was as frustrating as

it was tiring.

Finally, he gave up and went to the officers" mess for some-

thing to eat. On the way he met Anderson walking with an

old man Chesterton had never seen before. The old boy had

long, silver hair and was wearing a frock coat and checked

trousers, with only a panama hat of sorts acknowledging the

warmer environment.

„Major Chesterton, I presume," he began before Anderson

could introduce him. „I had rather been hoping to meet you."

„I like to think of myself as approachable, Mr... ?"

„Oh, just Doctor will do."

„Doctor?" Had Logan sent for this man? The captain had

been expressing a lot of concern about Chesterton"s head

injury lately. Had he become suspicious enough of its effects

to bring in a medical man against his wishes? The man was

vaguely familiar, but Chesterton couldn"t place him.

„That"s right." The Doctor leant slightly on his cane and

shook his head sadly. Chesterton could see lost hope in his

stance, and disappointment too.

„I was rather hoping that I could pick your brains on a

matter," the Doctor said, „but I don"t think now that I"ll be

able to."

„I don"t see why not." Chesterton chewed his lower lip for a

moment, deliberating, then said, „Let"s go to my office. We

can talk there." He wasn"t sure he wanted to talk, especially

to a doctor, but maybe some good would come of it.

The Doctor followed him back to his office and stood for a

moment, looking around at the collection of souvenirs.

„You"re still a traveller, I see."

„Yes," Chesterton replied happily. „The army keeps me mov-

ing around. Sometimes we have to teach someone a lesson,

but other than that I enjoy it."

„Other than that?"

„I don"t much like hurting people. At least, I don"t think I

do."

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. „How very unusual. A man

who doesn"t know whether he likes violence."

„Violence is the last refuge of the incompetent."

„A very healthy attitude. Yes, very healthy. Though I think

perhaps violence is more the first refuge of the incompetent."

Chesterton laughed. „You might be right there."

He went to a small drinks cabinet and lifted out a bottle of

brandy. „Care for a snifter? For purely medicinal purposes, of

course."

„That"s very generous of you, sir. Yes, thank you."

„I keep some around to chase away the aches and pains.

Age doesn"t come by itself."

„Indeed not," the Doctor agreed as Chesterton poured. „And

what aches and pains are those? Perhaps I might be able to

help?"

Chesterton froze, his suspicion that Logan had sent the

Doctor resurfacing. He handed his visitor a glass of brandy

and decided that if the game was up, it was up. „I took a fall

from my horse while chasing some bandits out of Qiang-Ling,

and landed on my head. Since then, most things prior to that

have been a blank."

He sat back and gazed at the group photograph of himself

with his staff at Jaipur. „This post, these men and the

souvenirs in here are all I have, and all I know. I don"t

remember how long I"ve been here or what my family did

before I joined the army... If anyone found out that I was

hiding this damnable...," he tapped his skull, „...void, it would

be straight back to England."

The Doctor nodded to himself, as if he were measuring this

information against something else he knew.

„I see. A side effect of a concussion, I wonder?"

Chesterton winced as even the word sent another bolt of

pain through his head. „Oh, I have a concussion all right. The

granddaddy of them all."

The Doctor seemed to reach a decision. „Your secret is safe

with me, Major. And, as it happens, I think I can arrange

some painkillers for you. A herbal remedy. You may or may

not know that I"m looking after Po Chi Lam surgery for the

moment?"

„I heard someone was looking after it."

„I shall have some analgesics sent up. But I should like to

ask for something in return. I would like to speak to Kei-

Ying."

Chesterton wasn"t sure about letting this stranger see the

prisoner, but then he also wasn"t sure the prisoner was guilty

of anything. And the man wasn"t a Chinee, so he was hardly

likely to try to break Kei-Ying out of jail. And, for some reason

he couldn"t fathom at all, Chesterton found that he trusted

the Doctor.

Wong Kei-Ying rested on the floor of his cell, even though

there was a cot. The cell in the Xamian Island prison was

small, but at least he had it to himself - if he didn"t count the

rat in the corner. It smelt of the grime and mould that had

taken hold in the small channels between the bricks, but it

was still cleaner than he could have expected if he had been

sent to a Guangzhou prison. Here he wasn"t sharing his

captivity with a couple of dozen others, some of whom would

be dead under the straw.

In the distance he could hear the garrison at work: shouts,

clanging, murmured conversations. The scent of the foul

form of tea the white man liked, laced with sugar, paid him a

fleeting visit, but didn"t come all the way in to his cell.

Suddenly he heard keys jangle at the end of the corridor

outside. He resisted the urge to look to see who it was and

whether they were coming to his cell. The short soldier - the

one who looked as though someone had been practising Iron

Palm techniques on his face - appeared outside the bars, and

started to unlock the door. Kei-Ying rose smoothly to meet

him.

„Visitor for ye," the man said. He opened the cell door and

the Doctor stepped inside.

„Doctor," Kei-Ying greeted him. „I hope everything is going

well."

„As well as can be expected. Your cousin Yee is a very adept

nurse, my friend, and follows orders very well. And that son

of yours doesn"t seem to have let the change in management

interfere with his training, either his own or the training of

others."

„He"s a good man," Kei-Ying said.

„Not everyone is as accommodating as your son," the Doctor

admitted. „As a matter of fact I have received - and, I might

say, accepted - my first challenge."

„Challenge? To a duel?" Kei-Ying hadn"t expected this. He

had thought the Doctor would simply take over the surgery

and the administration of the school. There was no reason to

challenge him as if he were a master. „Who?"

„A young man in your employ, named Jiang."

„Jiang? I might have guessed." The man was a hothead and

always had been. He was also good at what he did. „I"m sorry,

Doctor. I had no idea this might happen. If you can persuade

the English to let my son visit me, I will have him make sure

Jiang"s challenge is withdrawn."

„You will do no such thing, sir! As a matter of fact I intend

to go ahead with the match."

„You don"t have to."

The Doctor leant on his walking stick, and his expression

softened. „I have never been one to back down from difficul-

ties. And if I do, your staff would have reason to believe me

unworthy of the trust you place in me."

Kei-Ying couldn"t help but smile. The Doctor was

indomitable, and showed iron in his backbone. He would

make an excellent Han, if not for the misfortune of being

born in the west.

Jiang knelt before the abbot once more, one knee and both

fists on the junk"s deck, keeping his eyes lowered.

„My Lord, I have discredited the man who would most

oppose your position in the Black Flag. He is in jail and

cannot harm us. I have also challenged the man he forced

into my rightful place, a gwailo who calls himself the Doctor."

Jiang felt sudden heat on his head, the sensation of being a

little too close to a lamp. When the abbot spoke again Jiang

had to restrain himself from committing the disrespect of

looking up at his face to see if it was still him who was

speaking. The voice was different, louder, yet more distant,

an echoing sound from the depths of hell. „Describe this hu-

this man."

Jiang found that his voice refused to work until he had

swallowed a few times. „He...he is a gwailo, of normal height

for a Han. He has long, white hair and a nose like a hawk."

„And his companions? Do they wear strange clothes?"

„Yes, a new fashion from Europe, I think."

„But you have never seen such a material before?"

„No... no, I haven"t. It is not silk, or cotton, or wool, or -"

„You have told me enough. This man who calls himself the

Doctor is known. He must be destroyed."

„Yes, my Lord. I will kill him."

3

Major Chesterton walked along the north wall of the fortress

at Xamian, taking in the fresh air. There was a hint of sea

salt breezing in from the delta to the south. Behind him, men

were drilling on the parade ground, and to either side

sentries strolled around the walls. Across the river,

Kwantung city"s waterfront was jumbled together in a

thoroughly chaotic way.

Chesterton liked it. It was a symptom of a natural growth,

not some imposition of order, and this appealed to him.

Though he enjoyed the ordered and regimented life of a

soldier, he preferred to have nature around him. He

wondered if being outdoors was part of the reason he had

joined the army. He didn"t fancy the idea of spending his

whole adult life working in an office or a factory, trapped

indoors out of the fresh air.

The diabolical agony that had impaled his head for the last

few days was finally abating, thanks to the powders the

Doctor had delivered - along with a strong warning not to

drink brandy with them. His headache was down to being a

low throbbing above his ears, which was moderately annoy-

ing, but thankfully it no longer felt as though a red-hot poker

had been slid through his head from ear to ear.

With his headache finally fading, calm came over him at

last. He knew it was really just normalcy returning, but for

the moment it felt like a wave of happiness and calm at the

centre of his life. The last time he had felt this was in Italy,

watching the sunrise in the afterglow of making love.

He resisted the urge to shout with joy. He had remembered

something! He and the dark-haired woman from the photo-

graph in his office, making love in a villa. If there was

anything better in life than the touch of a lover"s lips, he had

yet to find it. He wondered where she was now, and why she

wasn"t here in China with him. The joy left him, though a

part of it remained, just close enough to suggest that things

were going to be fine and that he needn"t worry.

He didn"t feel any pain or heartache when he thought about

her, so he doubted that she had left him or died. More likely

she was waiting for him somewhere. The truth was

undoubtedly buried in some part of his scrambled brain, but

he could hardly ask Logan or Anderson about details of his

own love life.

He descended from the wall, wondering how many of the

soldiers on duty knew him better than he currently did

himself.

Logan watched Major Chesterton from the armoury door. The

major looked a little better to him, and Logan was mentally

grateful to the Doctor for helping. He wasn"t quite right yet,

though, and this made Logan sad.

He had surreptitiously taken on a few extra duties, taking

the workload off the major, and felt the extra effort and fewer

hours for sleeping were worth it. The major deserved every

chance to get better.

Ian and Barbara arrived back at Po Chi Lam to find the

Doctor glaring at three rows of children in the warm and

welcoming courtyard. He himself stood on the veranda that

held the courtyard in a relaxed embrace. The children wore

grey smocks and were sinking into leg stretches. This seemed

to be the intent, anyway. But half of them were running

around yelling and threatening to bowl over the others.

„You there, stop that!" the Doctor said, pointing his cane at

a boy who was trying to leapfrog over one of the children who

was stretching.

Neither Ian nor Barbara could suppress their laughter. The

Doctor threw them a withering look. „And what are you two

chuckling about, pray?"

Ian cleared his throat to stifle the laughter, and put on a

mock-serious tone. „We were just admiring your skills,

Doctor."

Yes," Barbara agreed. „It"s very important to pass on know-

ledge and educate the young. We would never dismiss such

an important task. But you have to admit you seem to be

having trouble keeping discipline."

„And what do you suggest I should do, eh? Give them a

sound spanking?" This last was directed more at the misbe-

having children than the two teachers.

„Ah," Ian said. He tutted theatrically. „So quick to violence."

He lowered his voice, so only Barbara could hear. „All the

same, I think I"m very happy I didn"t become a junior-school

teacher."

„Me too." Barbara raised her voice and addressed the

Doctor: „Perhaps if you demonstrated?"

Ian snorted, trying and failing to imagine the Doctor doing

the splits. „Those who can, do, those who can"t, teach?" he

offered.

„And those who can"t teach, try to teach teachers," the

Doctor replied acidly.

„Touché." Ian walked round the edge of the courtyard to the

veranda, and Barbara followed him. „Barbara"s right about

the demonstration," he said more seriously. „There must be a

more senior student here who could do that for you."

„My dear fellow," the Doctor said, his tetchiness apparently

an illusion. „How very kind of you to offer."

Before Ian could ask what he meant, the Doctor had

handed him a sheet with diagrams of warming-up exercises

on it. This is what they need to be doing. I"ll just go and fetch

a senior student."

He scuttled off with surprising speed, chuckling to himself.

Ian bit his tongue to hold in the curse that wanted to burst

forth. Barbara patted his shoulder in sympathy. „There are

two of us," she said. „We"ll manage."

Vicki and Fei-Hung were having lunch and watching the

exercise class through a window. Fei-Hung seemed distracted

and Vicki knew he must be worried about his father. She

understood his sense of loss all too well, though she envied

him the fact that he would see his father again.

„They work well as a team," Fei-Hung said, nodding towards

Ian and Barbara, who had gone into full teaching mode. „It"s

rare that a man and wife share the same trade, but I think I

like the idea."

Vicki giggled. „They"re not man and wife. They"re just

friends. Remember?"

Fei-Hung looked sceptical. „I still think they are married,

inside."

Vicki shook her head. „At least, I don"t think so."

„Then they should be. And you should be thinking about

marriage soon, too." Vicki nearly choked on her tea. She

wondered if this was his idea of flirting. Or, if she was honest

with herself, she hoped rather than wondered.

„You"re not married yet, are you?"

„Not yet. But I have a fiancée. Her name is Law."

His smile was a mix of desire and contentment, and Vicki

found herself responding to it with a sinking feeling. Fei-

Hung looked through the window again. „What happened this

week makes me wonder. If I were injured like Ian - or worse -

how would she feel?"

Vicki tried to think of something practical to say. „If she

loves you, I suppose she"d want to look after you."

„She does, and she would. It"s just... It would affect her life.

The fear and worry... I"m not sure I could put her, or anyone,

through that."

„I wouldn"t worry about that," Vicki said. „I think it just

means you love her too."

„And you? Have you ever been in love?"

„I"m not sure," she admitted. „I think so."

„Was this a boy on your ship? Or at home?"

„There were no boys my age on the ship." She got up, a little

red-faced. „I"d better go and see if the Doctor needs any help,"

she said abruptly.

Fei-Hung nodded politely.

If the small fishing town had a name - and all towns did - the

abbot had no idea what it was. Names of places didn"t

matter, except to those who lived there and called them

home. „Home" was a name that could well be applied to

everywhere.

The sky was smeared with the aftertaste of smoke and ash,

and the air was filled with the shouts of guards ordering

raggedly dressed prisoners to work. Patrols of armoured men

wearing black silk armbands and flattened basket-like hats

moved through the streets.

Most of the larger buildings were still standing, with

armoured guards outside and off-duty troops inside, crashed

out into exhausted sleep in their underwear. By the riverside

the thin masts of small, flat-bottomed fishing boats stuck up

from the waters. The boats were submerged and their masts,

some broken or charred, were tilted at odd angles. A large

junk was moored by the only jetty, guarded by troops with

rifles.

A monastery sat at the other end of the town. It was built of

brick, plaster and tile, all raised on a sort of embankment of

stones. Terraced gardens, exercise areas and stairways sur-

rounded it. The walls were stained with scorch marks.

Inside, all religious trappings had been removed. A statue

stood in each of the four corners of the main hall. All four

were life-sized and in the shape of a man in armour. Where a

large smiling Buddha statue had once sat, the abbot now

gazed down from a throne. He regretted the destruction of

parts of the town but it had been necessary. Sometimes, he

reflected, one had to cut away at infected tissue to preserve

the whole. He was more relaxed than he had been on the

junk; he preferred dry land under his feet. Land was solid

and supported people. It didn"t swallow them the way the sea

and rivers did.

He could sense Zhao and Gao approaching, and was glad

to receive them. Their service had been exemplary. The two

men approached and saluted, right fist cupped in left palm.

„My Lord," they said together.

They exchanged a glance, each seeming to offer the other

the chance to speak first.

„We have brought the astrologers you require," Gao said.

„There are but three, but they seem as competent as any."

„Bring them in, General."

Gao nodded to a guard waiting in the doorway, who imme-

diately stepped aside. Three middle-aged men in the dark

robes and skullcaps of court scholars shuffled fearfully in.

Three guards flanked them.

„Do you know who I am?" the abbot asked.

„Leader of the Black Flag," one of them said. „Lei-Fang"s...

replacement."

„Yes. Do you love China?"

There was a chorus of affirmative replies from the

astrologers.

The abbot was pleased. It was good to know that patriotism

hadn"t waned over the centuries. „Good. What I ask of you is

for China. To restore it to its rightful rulers."

The astrologers all nodded understandingly.

„Ask anything of us, my Lord," the first astrologer, the

oldest of the three, said obsequiously, „and we shall not rest

until it is completed."

The abbot nodded. It was rewarding to see his love for his

people repaid this way. They would do anything for him. „An

event will happen soon. In the heavens. A conjunction of

several stars and planets will occur on the night of a lunar

eclipse. You must calculate for me the exact moment that

this conjunction will occur, in Earth date and time."

„In “Earth...”?"

„Yes. I must know precisely how long it is until the

alignment."

The astrologers looked at each other, each trying to guess

what the other might say.

„We will begin the observations and calculations at once,"

the leader of the group said at last.

At sundown Fei-Hung had found himself a quiet spot in the

evening air to go through his jiao shi, which the Japanese

called kata. It was a quart fa, an unarmed jiao shi routine. His

father"s teacher, Luk Ah Choi, had taught him that jiao shi

were best practised at either sunrise, sunset or midnight.

Those were the best times to aid the circulation of chi

throughout the body.

Going through the motions of a quan fa routine by himself

should have freed Fei-Hung"s mind from worrying about his

father. It should have relaxed him and helped him to feel at

one with his country, his people and himself.

His body was so accustomed to the routine that it flowed

smoothly from one stance to the next, shifting its balance

perfectly without any conscious thought from him. His mind

should have soared, but it remained weighed down by the

bonds and chains that Fei-Hung was sure were wrapped

around his father in the cell at Xamian.

When he had finished, his arms and legs were shaking and

he didn"t know why. Sadness and frustration took as many

forms as fear, he supposed, and often took the same toll on

the body.

Punching and kicking at shadows and air, dodging only the

breeze and the occasional moth, didn"t help to free his father,

or even feel as satisfying as hitting his father"s jailers would

be. Hoping the exertion would at least help him to sleep, Fei-

Hung walked back to the main hall and up the steps to the

door.

He stopped, sensing his father"s former presence in the very

wood of the doorframe. It taunted him, reminding him of Kei-

Ying"s current absence. With a muttered curse, he turned

back again and sat on the top step.

Fei-Hung sensed movement behind him, but didn"t look

round. It was the tread of the old man, the Doctor.

„I trust I"m not disturbing you, young man?" the Doctor

asked.

„No."

„Good, good." The Doctor leant on his cane and looked up

into the clear night sky. „I really wish things hadn"t turned

out this way, you know. In many ways, I suppose I feel it"s

my fault. But I don"t think you need to worry too much.

Master Wong will be released sooner or later."

Fei-Hung stared at the gates. „I can"t go and rescue him, yet

I can"t stay in here and sleep, and not have at least tried to

free him." He looked around, the courtyard suddenly alien to

him, neither home as he had known it, nor a known

destination. „I don"t belong any more."

„We all feel that way from time to time, young man," the

Doctor said.

„Do we? Is that why you travel?"

„Partly, my boy, yes. But at the same time, if you don"t

belong in one place perhaps it"s because you belong

everywhere. Did you ever consider that? Hmm?"

Fei-Hung shook his head. „Are you suggesting I should run

away?" he spat. „Or hide?"

„Not a bit of it, and don"t you take that tone with me, young

man!"

The Doctor"s anger was palpable, and Fei-Hung raised a

hand involuntarily to soothe the sting he thought he felt at

his cheek.

„There are many journeys that are made with the mind, or

the heart," the Doctor said. „The search for truth, or for right,

for example."

„I always thought one travelled on foot, or on a horse, or a

ship..." Fei-Hung wasn"t sure what the Doctor meant by

mental travel. „The mind goes with you, doesn"t it? You might

as well say one could travel, oh, I don"t know, across the

stars."

„And what would you say if I told you it was possible to

travel among the stars, just as people travel on ships across

the sea?"

Fei-Hung laughed. „I"d say you and Wan Hu would have

enjoyed each other"s company."

„Wan who?"

„A scribe and astronomer who wanted to go up among the

stars he loved to watch."

„Really? I wouldn"t mind meeting him some day."

„I fear you"re a bit late for that, Doctor. He lived nearly four

hundred years ago."

„Did he? I see." The Doctor tutted. „Well, some day... And

you know about this fellow?"

Fei Hung nodded. „He thought rockets and gunpowder

could be used to make man fly to the stars. So he fitted two

kites to his best throne, and the forty-seven biggest rockets

he could find."

„Yes," the Doctor prompted doubtfully.

„When the flying chair was built Wan Hu dressed himself in

robes fitting for the ascent into heaven. Then he had forty-

seven servants each light one of the fuses simultaneously.

Then there was a huge bang as all the rockets went off at

once. When the smoke blew away there was no sign of Wan

Hu or his flying chair. According to legend, the servants

assumed this meant the chair had worked and Wan Hu had

flown into the stars, never to return."

The Doctor listened with raised eyebrows. „Hmm. A some-

what optimistic appraisal of his situation, don"t you think?"

Fei-Hung smiled wistfully. „He followed the dream he

believed in and, one way or the other, ascended to the

heavens. I always liked him, and his story."

He relaxed, dreaming of his father walking free. He could

see the cell in front of him as clearly as if he had gone to

Xamian, and hear Kei-Ying"s voice.

„Thank you, Doctor-sifu."

The Doctor merely smiled.

4

Cheng was frustrated by Anderson stringing him along about

seeing Kei-Ying, a promise which he hadn"t yet made good

on. Trying to get permission was like trying to see something

with his glass eye - and he didn"t want to risk arrest by

returning to Xamian Island. Nor did he want to get Anderson

into trouble. In the end, he settled for waiting outside a

brothel he had seen the Scotsman frequent. It was payday for

the British soldiers, and this meant that those who engaged

the services of the whores would be with them tonight.

He steeled himself with half a bottle of rice wine, and leant

against a wall across the street. He could simply have waited

in the brothel"s entrance hall, but the day he could resist a

woman would be the day he died, and he didn"t want to miss

Anderson for the sake of a roll in bed.

Eventually the pug-nosed Scot appeared looking a little

flushed, but grinning like a dope fiend. Cheng hurried across.

„Anderson..." He didn"t look at the Scotsman; he couldn"t

bear to. „I need to be able to talk to Wong-sifu."

„What about?"

„Does that matter?" Cheng knew it did, of course. The

Europeans wouldn"t want people conspiring against them in

their own cells. Nor would they be likely to believe he wasn"t

doing so.

„That depends on what ye need to talk about."

„An internal Guangzhou militia matter." He could feel

Anderson"s eyes on the back of his head. He could hear the

man"s suspicions as if he was shouting them from the roof

top. „All right. An internal Black Flag matter," he said.

He turned to Anderson. „Something is happening among

the Black Flag. Something bad. Maybe even a threat to your

people."

The sergeant major looked at him inscrutably. „Is that why

ye"re suddenly so generous with your supplies, and wanting

nae a thing in return? Perhaps ye ken something about

where those cartridges are going to go, and ye dinnae like it?"

„I don"t know anything!" The anger Cheng felt at the accu-

sation was fuelled by guilt. „I just suspect things. Worry

about them."

Anderson kept a poker face. „Aye, well ye"re worrying me

right enough as well. Maybe ye should have a chat, but to

Captain Logan or the major."

„Logan wouldn"t understand."

„Probably not, knowing him. But if he brings it to the

major"s attention, the major is more likely to be the one to

grant ye your request to visit Master Wong."

Cheng gritted his teeth, trying to refuse, or at least not

accede to, Anderson"s demand. His fellow Chinese were too

important to betray, but was betraying a betrayer really

betraying his people? Wong would know, because he had the

wisdom that Cheng knew he could never possess. Wong

could make a decision like this. Wong, Cheng knew, in

answer to this question, would say „Yes".

All right," he said at last.

The relaxed mood Anderson had bought for himself in the

White Tigers" parlour had evaporated quickly, but he didn"t

mind. It was just one of those things that happened to a

professional.

He wasn"t sure that taking Cheng to the major was the

right thing to do, but he knew that not doing it, and then

discovering there was a split among the local rabble-rousers,

would be a big mistake.

He took Cheng to the major"s office, knocked and was

admitted.

„This is Cheng. He"s one of the Black Flag, the militia, and

the owner of that poor excuse for a slop house where you

were supposedly beaten up this week."

Chesterton sat back and regarded the newcomer silently.

Cheng"s jaw dropped. This was the man who had been

attacked in the Hidden Panda right enough, but he had aged

a dozen years since then.

„What can I do for you, Mr Cheng?" the major asked. „Has

Captain Logan perhaps been attacked today?"

„No, sir," Cheng said stiffly.

Anderson could see in his eyes that he was already regret-

ting starting this. He might start changing his story at any

moment to get out of it. The sergeant major leant forward so

that only Cheng could hear him. „Don"t be put off by the

major. He really did get a bump on the head this week. He"s

probably sick of the ache by now."

Cheng nodded, and continued. „There"s a man, he dresses

like an abbot and used to be one. He"s taking over the local

chapters of the Black Flag, but what he"s doing with them is

nothing to do with the Black Flag"s aims. I think he is the

warlord behind the attacks on random towns and villages."

„What makes you think that?"

„He told me, when he wanted me to follow him."

„And what did you say?"

„I said “Yes, sir” because anyone who refuses him is killed.

Then I packed my bags and wanted to leave."

„And?"

„Jiang, who holds the same rank as myself in the Black

Flag... I don"t think he lied when he promised obedience. He

and this abbot talked for a lot longer. And then he challenged

the man Wong-sifu had entrusted with looking after the

surgery, almost as soon as Wong-sifu was in your hands."

Once Cheng"s story was told, Chesterton sent him to the

mess with Anderson to get something to eat. He didn"t know

whether he could trust his story, or Jiang"s, or neither. The

men were inscrutable Chinese, after all. To save face they"d

tell you whatever you wanted to hear and think their lies

were doing you a favour. Trusting any of them blindly was

not an option.

Chesterton also thought that mistrusting Cheng"s infor-

mation out of hand would be equally foolish. The Chinese

had a long history of factional fighting, and there was no

reason why there couldn"t be such a split in the Black Flag,

or even in the semi-autonomous militias he was supposed to

co-operate with. It was going to be a long night, but at least

he would have something better to think about than his

missing past.

He summoned Captain Logan, who came running from his

quarters still buttoning his tunic. Chesterton quickly

recounted Cheng"s story, and Logan considered it. „A rum

sort of tale," he opined. „If there really is a schism in the

Black Flag, and especially if a group has gone rogue, I think

perhaps Mr Wong ought to be told. Kei-Ying, I mean."

„You do? Why?"

It wasn"t a challenge, but Chesterton was genuinely

curious. Any thought might help him to make the right

decision.

„It could explain a lot. It certainly explains this chap Jiang"s

accusation against Kei-Ying, if it was part of some sort of

internal power struggle."

„So it was just a pack of lies." It wouldn"t surprise

Chesterton if this were the case. What a tangled web we

weave, eh, Logan? All right. We"ll see how our prisoner reacts

to this."

Ko was too tired to work. The figures on the paper vibrated

and danced under his gaze, when they were in focus at all. If

he was to calculate the answers the abbot wanted, he needed

to be fresh. It would maybe be better to rest first and blaze

through the work in the morning.

He couldn"t sleep either. He lay on a thin blanket in one of

the monks" bedchambers in a distant corner of the former

monastery, and still saw the calculations dancing before his

eyes, glowing slightly against the darkness of the ceiling. It

was irritating, being caught between one state and the other.

When he tried to work he wanted only to sleep, and vice

versa. If someone could induce such a state in other men at

will, he thought, it would make a fine torture for criminals.

Eventually, driven by the occasional restless twitch in his

calves, he decided that perhaps working through a sequence

of t"ai chi moves in the open air would help. He had trained

to be a martial monk when he was a child, and found that

such a pattern smoothed out the balance of his energy and

helped him sleep afterwards.

He hadn"t stuck with the training long because other inter-

ests had caught his attention, and he had found an aptitude

for calculating the motions of the stars and planets. His

father had apprenticed him to an astrologer, with the intent

that this would prove more satisfying for the young Ko and

more profitable for himself.

So far his father had been proved right, and Ko was one of

the most respected men in the little town. Until this group of

Black Flag troops had come. He wasn"t sure how holding the

town was supposed to hurt the Chings in the government,

but politics had never been Ko"s strong suit.

Ko knew there were guards who would try to stop him

going outside the building, but he also knew, from his time

training in the monastery, that there was a trap door through

which he would be able to get up on to the roof, and then he

could climb down a pillar to an exercise court.

First he had to go through the kitchen. A small serving

hatch in a wall near his room led straight to this part of the

building and, although he wasn"t a teenager any more, at

forty he was the youngest of the astrologers, and he had little

difficulty in climbing through the hatch.

He padded through the deserted kitchen and up some

steps, and reached what used to be a store room. He was not

alone. One of the two aides to the abbot - the muscle-bound

one - was sitting on a stool, alone in the dark.

To the astrologer"s eyes, the monk would be asleep in a

matter of moments. Ko held his breath, desperately hoping

not to do anything that might disturb him and wake him up.

He watched carefully, waiting for the moment when Zhao"s

attention was well and truly gone. Slowly, the monk"s eyes

became unfocused, his eyelids drooping slightly. They didn"t

close all the way. As Zhao"s consciousness faded, Ko

discerned the beginning of a faint sulphurous glow

emanating from his dilated pupils.

In a few seconds Zhao"s breathing was shallow and steady,

and he was beginning to snore, but his eyes projected beams

of light. Then he got up and walked to the centre of the room.

Ko had never seen anything like it. He certainly never

expected to see such a thing again.

The doors at the end of the room swung open, and Gao and

the abbot entered. Both of them were projecting beams of

fiery light from their eyes. They moved to the centre of the

room and stood next to Zhao. The three monks were a few

feet apart from each other, facing a spot in between them.

The beams of light met there, in the centre of the group,

and instead of projecting on to the walls they stopped there

and began to swirl. The light churned inwards, forming an

amorphous cloud. The air began to taste strange, and there

was a faint discordant sound. It was like a whimpered song,

lamenting lost souls.

Ko watched in horror, and suddenly had one of those

moments when a man realises that the silhouetted

candlestick he is looking at is actually a pair of faces. He no

longer saw light streaming from the trio"s eyes - and their

mouths - to create a bizarre mass of light. Instead, he

couldn"t help but see tendrils of glowing fire from the hellish

thing in the centre insinuating their way into the heads of the

three monks.

Kei-Ying sniffed suspiciously at a mug of British army tea. It

smelt ridiculously overdone and over sweetened. Calling it tea

was, Kei-Ying thought, like calling a man-eating lion a cat.

He, Cheng, Anderson, Logan and Major Chesterton were

sitting around a table in an otherwise deserted mess hall.

The room was as large as Po Chi Lam"s training hall, but was

filled with simple tables and benches. A long counter

separated it from the kitchen, but not from the smell of dull,

stolid, flavourless food.

Kei-Ying took in the tale that Cheng had told. „I think we

should contact the other Tigers."

„The Tigers?" Cheng grinned. „Yes, they"ll get you out of this

barbarian hole in no time."

The three British men glared at him.

„No offence," he added.

Kei-Ying ignored him. „If a Black Flag group has gone rogue

under this warlord and started raiding and killing indiscrim-

inately, it"s going to come to the Tigers" attention anyway. In

fact, it will almost certainly have done so already. If they"re

going to find themselves fighting against the Black Flag, they

ought to know why."

„The Ten Tigers of Kwantung?" Logan asked. He sounded

impressed in a patronising sort of way.

„Eight Tigers," Kei-Ying corrected him. „Dr Leung Jon was

murdered at dinner recently and my sifu, Luk Ah Choi, died a

few years ago."

„How would you propose to contact them?" Chesterton

asked.

„I can write letters to them. Cheng can arrange for messen-

gers to find them." He looked questioningly at Chesterton.

„Does this mean I"m released?"

„Partly," Chesterton said. „I"d like to keep you here until we

have more proof, but we won"t lock your cell door and you

can use our facilities to write your letters."

Kei-Ying grimaced inwardly. He wouldn"t be free in time to

stop Jiang"s duel with the Doctor, and he felt shame at

having dropped the old man into such trouble.

„I suppose I have no choice."

Ko started to back away, feeling backwards with his foot to

find the steps. He wanted to look away from the bizarre sight

in front of him, but daren"t. It was fascinating in a horrible

way - and he didn"t want to risk one of the monks noticing

him while his back was turned.

He started to put his foot down, but he hadn"t judged the

width of the step correctly. The foot caught briefly on the

edge of the top step and slid off it on to the next one with a

thud. The light in the room snapped off immediately.

Ko fled, but behind him he could hear footsteps in pursuit.

He dashed downstairs and through several empty rooms.

At a side door he knocked over a dozing guard, totally by

chance rather than with any martial skill. He knew he had to

get as far away from here as he could. Not just away from the

monastery, but away from the town.

He leapt off the edge of one terrace, then another. This was

a fishing town, so there would be boats on the river.

Breathless, his lungs burning as much as his thighs were, he

pelted down several streets dodging the occasional guard.

The sounds of footsteps behind him increased as more troops

joined the chase. At one point a shot blew chips off a wall

several feet away. It was a hopeless shot on the part of

whichever guard had fired it, but it woke other troops up to

the fact that something was happening.

Ko"s legs felt heavier than mountains, his head swam and

he fully expected his heart to burst. Instead, he heard wood

booming hollowly under his feet and realised he had reached

the jetty.

All the fishing boats were broken and shattered. He wanted

to cry, but couldn"t spare the breath. At the end of the jetty a

gangplank led up to the junk. It was too large a ship to

operate on his own, even if he had known anything about

sailing, but he could see a small rowing boat in a cradle on

the deck. If he could get it into the water, maybe he could

still escape with his life.

Then the deck swung up to meet him, smacking him across

the face with the sickening crack that only solid planks can

deliver. Ko rolled over, stunned. Above him, Zhao pulled back

the leg with which he had tripped him and prepared to drive

the edge of his foot down on to his neck.

Half-remembering his martial training at the monastery

thirty years ago, Ko managed to grab Zhao"s ankle and twist

it. Zhao went down, and Ko knew he couldn"t let the muscle-

bound ape get back up again. He grabbed the man"s neck in

a lock and gripped more tightly, applying pressure to Zhao"s

windpipe. Gradually, the bigger man"s struggles became more

feeble. Ko shook with relief and strain as he felt

consciousness leave the monk"s muscles.

A faint patch of light brightened on the wall of the wheel-

house beyond them, as if someone was shining a torch on it.

Two torches, in fact. Ko looked over his shoulder without

letting go of Zhao, to see if there was someone with a candle

or lantern. There was no-one there. The light was brighter

now, and it looked almost as if it was being projected from

Zhao"s head.

Zhao went limp at last. But instead of flopping on to the

deck his arm lashed back. Pain and blurring rippled out from

the bridge of Ko"s nose. Stunned, his grip weakened and

Zhao tossed him aside.

To Ko"s horror the light was coming from Zhao, beaming

out of his eyes as it had back in the monastery. When the

monk grinned, more light escaped through the gaps in his

teeth and Ko realised that he"d made a huge error of

judgement.

Then there was a flash of pure light and sound and Ko

knew nothing else, ever again.

5

Sunrise brought morning exercise for Wong Fei-Hung and his

students. Vicki watched from a cosy corner of the courtyard,

trying her best to copy their movements. It was difficult, but

something about doing this made her feel just a little

stronger, a little healthier and a little better.

It never ceased to amaze her that people could do the most

astonishing things, and achieve near miracles of balance and

movement. She had seen people practise their kata in zero

gravity, and beings with more than two arms or legs

competing in judo tournaments broadcast on the ship-wide

sports channel, but the ability of an ordinary human to do

some of these things on Earth was magical to behold.

After a while Fei-Hung told the students to go and get

breakfast, and approached Vicki. „I saw you joining in. Not

many Europeans would do that."

„I"m not European," she pointed out.

He looked surprised. „Where are you from, then? America?"

„Earth," Vicki said. „To start with anyway."

He looked at her as if he was trying to spot a flaw in her

reply, and she realised what she had just said.

„The British Empire may be the most powerful in the world

right now," Fei-Hung said darkly, „but that doesn"t make it

the whole of the Earth."

„I didn"t mean it that way."

Vicki stopped talking, as the strangest sensation she had

ever experienced buzzed inside her head. It wasn"t so much

deja vu as a sort of jamais vu, or even roman vu. Everything

seemed unreal, and she half expected to see stagehands

behind the walls, or the sun being taken off a wire that

suspended it from the ceiling.

„Are you all right?" Fei-Hung asked, taking her arm. „Let"s

go back into the surgery and brew a -"

„No." Vicki shook her head and forced a smile, which she

could feel was more goofy than intended. „It"s just the first

time I"ve spoken to a fictional character."

„Fictional?"

„Oh, I don"t mean to be rude. It"s just that where I come

from there are stories about you, and I didn"t think you were

real until now."

Fei-Hung looked down at himself and patted himself on the

chest and stomach. „I feel real." He paused. „You did well this

morning. No worse than any newcomer. Do you know

gungfu?’

Vicki shook her head. She knew a few basics of self-

defence, like aiming a kick at the groin if someone tried to

grab her, but that was about the limit of her martial skills.

Nobody had needed to know more than this in a world where

fighting was done with the push of a button, if at all. „Only

what I"ve seen you do - ," she bit off, „in movies".

„Ah. Our styles of boxing are family matters. There are

basic moves and styles which are common to everyone, but

the more advanced elements are handed down from father to

son, or to selected students who are close friends and allies

of the family." Feng-Hui laughed. „My father didn"t want me to

learn gungfu! he admitted. „Think of it, one of the Ten Tigers,

the greatest boxers of them all, and he didn"t want me to

carry on this tradition."

„He seems all right with it now."

„I went to Luk Ah Choi, the master who taught my father,

and learnt from him. When he found out why I had gone to

him he immediately berated my father for not teaching me.

The family style is supposed to be passed down from father to

son, and Ah Choi warned my father that if he didn"t teach me

it might be forgotten."

„It"s always the fun things parents don"t want you to do,"

Vicki said. „They"re happy for you study hard, but they panic

if you want to stay out late the way they did when they were

your age."

„Yes. That"s my father exactly!"

„I think we have parental influence in common. Your father

reminds me very much of mine."

„Was your father a healer too?"

Vicki shook her head. „He had basic paramedic training for

the job he was going to take up on Astra. And it was useful

on the ship."

„A ship?"

Vicki only nodded, the laughter fading from her heart.

„He was in the navy, then?" Fei-Hung asked.

„Oh no, it was a civilian ship. Passengers and some cargo."

„Is this ship here in Guangzhou?"

„No, it... ran aground, a few months ago."

„I"m sorry to hear that."

„There were only two survivors. Myself and one man. I

found out, when he died, that he had caused the accident

deliberately. He killed my father. But it was already too late

to find out whether I"d have the courage to take revenge, or

the courage not to. I don"t think I"d have liked myself much

either way, so I"m glad I didn"t have to choose."

Smoke and steam rose from long, low buildings set among

the riverside trees. The abbot, flanked by two men from his

quartermaster"s staff, stepped into the nearest one. Inside,

sweating men and women were grinding black, steel tubes

and fitting them against wooden stocks. Once the breeches

and locks were added they would be rifles.

The abbot paused for a moment, watching them work.

Then he took a barrel from the nearest woman and examined

it closely, inside and out.

„Acceptable," he said, handing it back.

One of the quartermasters made a note.

The abbot moved along the production line and took a

barrel from a man who had been working hard on it with a

file. Examining it, the abbot could see that the end of the

barrel had been filed at a slight angle. Once evened up it

would be a fraction short when it was mated with a breech

and stock.

He lashed out with the barrel, the steel smashing into the

man"s cheek. The worker sprawled, bleeding and spitting

teeth.

„Replace this turd," the abbot said.

The quartermaster made another note.

Fei-Hung found the Doctor in the surgery studying one of his

father"s medical texts.

„Most interesting," the Doctor said. „Most interesting for this

time period."

Fei-Hung smiled, proud of his father and naturally glad to

hear him praised. It lasted only an instant as he had brought

more serious news. „Jiang is at the gates."

The Doctor frowned as if unsure what the message meant.

Then his face cleared. „Oh, this ridiculous and silly duel. I"m

rather afraid I had quite forgotten it." He sighed wearily. „Very

well, let"s get on with it, shall we? Let him in."

‘Sif- Doctor," Fei-Hung corrected himself. „You cannot mean

to fight Jiang-sifu."

„Can"t I indeed? And who are you to tell me what I mean?"

Fei-Hung had never seen such courage in a white man

before. Or maybe it was stubbornness. „Do you not know who

he is?"

„A rival master to your father. Does it really matter?"

„Two years ago a Japanese master came to challenge Jiang.

The Japanese had heard of his boasts about being a great

fighter, and wanted to teach him a lesson. Everyone expected

it to be a prodigious bout that would drag on and on."

„And wasn"t it?"

„It took exactly one move. Jiang killed the Japanese master

with a single kick to the head."

All the students were waiting, ranged around the main

courtyard. They were whispering among themselves, but

Jiang couldn"t hear them clearly enough to make out what

they were saying. Perhaps some of them were expressing

dismay that one of their own would challenge the man

appointed by the master of the school, but this didn"t bother

Jiang. He was sure the majority were excited at the prospect

of seeing him humiliate the gwailo.

Once the Doctor was no longer in charge Jiang, as deputy,

would take his place. Then he need only ensure that Kei-Ying

didn"t return.

As if summoned by Jiang thinking about his father, Fei-

Hung appeared through the latticework doors of the hall.

Chesterton, Barbara and Vicki followed. Finally, the Doctor

appeared. He hadn"t even bothered to change into more

appropriate clothing, Jiang noted.

The Doctor"s clothes weren"t loose enough to perform much

in the way of martial arts, so perhaps he was going to forfeit.

That wouldn"t be as much fun, but it would still get Jiang

what he wanted, so he would accept it.

The Doctor stepped down on to the courtyard and

approached Jiang. He stopped a few feet away. „Well, young

man," he said. „Do you still insist on this ridiculous duel?"

„Unless you are choosing to forfeit. There is no dishonour in

acknowledging one"s limitations." Jiang waited for the

Doctor"s inevitable backing down.

„So be it," the Doctor said. „Then let"s get on with it." He

turned slightly side on, left foot forward, lowering his right

hand behind him.

With his left hand, the Doctor beckoned to Jiang.

CHAPTER FOUR

Drunken Master

1

The sun had reached its zenith, and the Doctor and Jiang

faced each other in the middle of Po Chi Lam"s courtyard.

Ian, Barbara, Vicki and Fei-Hung were standing on the raised

veranda, while the other staff and students in their plain

tunics lined the walls on either side. Everyone was giving the

combatants plenty of room.

The Doctor, in his shirtsleeves and braces, was beckoning

to the lanky Jiang. Ian steeled himself to jump in and take on

Jiang himself. Without looking round Fei-Hung reached back

to put a hand on his shoulder.

„That will only get you beaten," Fei-Hung murmured. „And

the Doctor as well."

„You know he can"t win."

„I know only that the Doctor is older, and I believe he

cannot win. But I cannot know what will happen before it

happens. Even the strongest warrior might be beaten by the

weakest, if fortune so decides."

Ian"s eyes momentarily flicked round to Fei-Hung. „That

sounds like a very wise attitude."

„It should be. It"s my father"s. He drums it into all his

students in the hope of preventing us from becoming

arrogant and overconfident."

„It doesn"t seem to have made much of an impression on

Jiang."

Barbara could barely look. She had already seen Ian beaten

almost to a pulp, and had no wish to see the same thing

happen to the only person who could take them away from

here.

Part of her mind told her the Doctor must have some plan,

or that maybe he really did have the ability to match Jiang.

The old boy could be pretty sprightly when he wanted to,

though she knew he always paid for it later. The larger part

of her mind, however, simply went along with what her eyes

were seeing, as did most people"s.

She could see an old man who walked with a stick

preparing to fight a younger, fitter man who had been

training all his adult life, and who had once killed a man with

a single kick. She couldn"t understand why the Doctor was

going through with this. She had visited Nero"s Rome and

there she had watched Ian fight in the Coliseum as a

gladiator, under threat of death. There was no such threat

here from any authority, so why do it?

If it were two teenage boys fighting in the Coal Hill School

playground she would almost understand. Boys of such an

age seemed to have a genetic disposition to proving

themselves. The Doctor was a far cry from being a teenage

boy, and generally disapproved of violence.

She bit her tongue to avoid shouting to them to stop this

nonsense, just as she would have done at the school back in

Shoreditch. She had heard Fei-Hung"s warning to Ian and

didn"t want to make the situation any worse. Despite this,

she remembered her desire to hit someone when she was

tending to the unconscious Ian the previous day. If Jiang

brought the Doctor down perhaps she would just give in to

that impulse, and see for once what it felt like.

Vicki watched the two men on the courtyard intently. She

would have preferred to watch Fei-Hung knock seven bells

out of this Jiang person, and find out whether he was as

good as the stories and legends suggested.

She didn"t mind watching the Doctor fight. For one thing,

as Fei-Hung had said, many masters were as old as the

Doctor - or perhaps that should be as young as the Doctor

appeared to be. She knew he was really much older, though

she didn"t know by how much. If forced to guess, she would

probably say she thought he must be five hundred years old.

She didn"t think he was frail, even though he was a demi-

millenarian. Over the centuries he must have learnt lots of

different things about looking after himself. She had been

with him when he had fought off an assassin in Nero"s palace

in Rome. Even though the man had been younger and

stronger- looking than Jiang, and had been armed with a

sword, the Doctor had fought him off with little apparent

effort.

For this reason, and because of his intelligence, she was

sure he would beat Jiang. She hoped she was sure.

Jiang knew he could bring the Doctor down with a good kick

to the head, but he doubted that the watching students

would see much honour in doing that to the old man. He

wanted them to cheer him and accept him as their master,

not vilify him. So instead, he started with a punch.

The Doctor didn"t even try to dodge it, and Jiang doubted

that he could. At the instant before his fist would connect

with the Doctor"s face, the old man started to lean back and

his left hand began to rise. It was too late, in Jiang"s opinion.

Then the Doctor"s forearm connected with his own, his

hand snaking up and around Jiang"s arm. It first went

outwards over Jiang"s bicep, then ducked under his armpit,

and suddenly the Doctor"s left palm was on Jiang"s chest

next to the shoulder. Jiang never even noticed the Doctor"s

foot dart out and catch his ankle, because suddenly he was

on the ground with blinding agony shooting up his spine

from his tailbone.

As one, the students and staff gasped. Then, slowly, they

began to cheer. Fei-Hung could hardly believe his eyes. The

Doctor had scarcely so much as moved, and Jiang, one of the

best fighters Fei-Hung had seen, was down. Perhaps they did

have masters in the west, and the Doctor was one. In any

case, his father must have been right after all, to entrust the

school into this man"s care.

Ian regretted ever having doubted the Doctor. He should have

known the wily old bird would know how to deal with a

situation like this.

Barbara felt her heart shoot up into her throat when Jiang

moved, but then it was floating with elation rather than

jumping in alarm.

Vicki gritted her teeth to avoid letting out a laugh. That

would probably have been inappropriate, she thought. The

Doctor hadn"t let her down, as she had known he wouldn"t.

Jiang bit down on the yell that wanted to burst from his lips.

The pain geysering up from his tailbone was scalding and

freezing at the same time.

The Doctor looked down at him, an infuriating twinkle in

his eye. „I hope you aren"t hurt too much." He reached out a

hand. „Do you need any help?"

Jiang swatted the hand away, and rose. He hoped his legs

didn"t look as wobbly as they felt. The old bastard had tricked

him this time, but he was determined it wouldn"t happen

again. „You couldn"t hurt me if you tried."

„I wouldn"t want to, dear boy," the Doctor said. „But this

duelling is very dangerous - you might easily hurt yourself."

„You worry about yourself, Doctor," Jiang spat. „You were

fortunate, and that will save you face." He lowered his voice to

a threatening mutter. „Be thankful that you will not be seen

as humiliated. You will die with honour."

The Doctor"s expression was mild, understanding and

downright irritating. „Yes, I suppose I shall. You know, there

are laws against giving details of future events to people,

hmm?"

Jiang had no idea what the Doctor was talking about, but

was sure it was a deliberate attempt to confuse him and

break his concentration. He refused to let this happen.

„Again," he said, and lunged at the Doctor, careful to keep his

weight moving forward.

This time the Doctor moved a little more. He caught the

wrist behind Jiang"s incoming fist and pulled it towards him-

self. At the same time, he turned on his heel and slapped

Jiang lightly on the back.

Jiang hit the earth face-first this time. The watching

students applauded.

Jiang sprang to his feet, brushing dirt and pebbles from his

face. „Fight properly, damn you."

„And what exactly do you mean by “properly”? Hmm?" The

Doctor"s tone was definitely slightly mocking now. „Like you

do, I suppose? Well, that type of thing isn"t doing you much

good here, is it?"

Jiang grimaced, his face burning. The old bastard wasn"t

even putting in any effort! It was as if he was dismissing

Jiang"s very thoughts and instincts, rather than besting him

in a proper fight. He decided it was time to forget his

magnanimous plans to allow the Doctor an honourable fight.

He came forward again and lashed out with a foot. It was

the type of roundhouse kick that he practised by shattering

clay jars of water, and skulls shattered more easily than the

jars did.

This time the Doctor simply dodged back, not trying to stop

the kick. This didn"t surprise Jiang too much, as he was

certain there was nothing the Doctor could possibly stop the

kick with. Even if he blocked it his arm would be broken in

the process.

Jiang"s foot missed the Doctor"s head by inches, and he

continued into a spinning back kick. The Doctor kept

retreating towards the steps that led up to the veranda. Then

he stopped and took up a guarding stance. Jiang felt himself

filled with anticipation, and it was like the warmth of a good

wine.

He came forward, starting to kick. There was a sudden

flash in his eyes - the sun reflecting from the Doctor"s ring -

but it came too late to stop him aiming the kick right at the

Doctor"s head.

The top of Jiang"s foot stopped moving when it impacted,

and crushing pain exploded up his leg blasting him to the

ground. He writhed in agony, trying to reach his foot with his

hands. He could feel the gut-churning sensation of ligaments

and muscles tearing. Every movement sent a sympathetic

ripple through his bowels.

The Doctor was looking at him, his head tilted to one side.

Behind him a solid, hardwood beam, one of many that

supported the veranda"s roof, had a bloody mark, and

splinters gouged out of it. The Doctor, Jiang realised, had

simply positioned himself in front of it and moved his head to

let Jiang"s foot hit the wood. The flash from his ring had

covered the movement.

Jiang tried to rise, but his foot just wouldn"t support him.

„I think this duel is over, don"t you?" the Doctor asked.

All Jiang could do was curse and nod through the pain.

2

Ian could hardly find the words to express himself. „Doctor,

that was astonishing!"

Everyone was trying to clap the Doctor on the back, and

his fellow time travellers could hardly get near him.

„Well, it wouldn"t have been if I had listened to you, young

man," the Doctor rebuked him. „I told you, dear boy. Brains

will always win over brawn. Have you heard of Miyamoto

Musashi?"

Ian shook his head.

„I have," Fei-Hung said. „He was a Japanese warrior, genera-

tions ago."

The Doctor gave a pleased nod. „That is correct, young

man. Musashi once told the story of a situation similar to our

own. A farmer came to him to ask his advice about a duel he

was to fight. A samurai warrior, who was feared all over the

area as an unbeatable fighter, had challenged him over some

imaginary insult or other. The farmer was not a warrior and,

although he owned a sword, he had never fought with it.

„Musashi told him, “First, accept that you will die

tomorrow.”„

„Cheerful advice," Ian said dryly.

„Oh, hush now, Chesterton. He then told the farmer to hold

his sword high above his head and, when the samurai

stepped forward to strike, to bring the sword down on the top

of his head...," the Doctor demonstrated, chopping his hand

down almost unconsciously, „...just like so!"

„What happened?" Fei-Hung asked.

„On the morning of the duel the farmer waited. When he

saw the samurai approaching he held his sword over his

head as Musashi had told him. The samurai tried to judge

the best way to cut him down. It would be easy - the farmer

was no fighter and the samurai could kill him with one blow.

But to do this he would have to come in under the farmer"s

sword, and he knew he would get his head chopped in half if

he did."

Fei-Hung nodded, understanding. „You mean he knew he

could kill the farmer, but only at the price of his own life?"

„Yes, exactly! And after spending an hour trying to work out

how he could kill the farmer without dying himself he put his

sword away and gave up in disgust and went home!"

The Doctor chuckled, but there was something knowing

and calculating about the chuckle. „Brains over brawn, you

see. Brains over brawn." He paused and looked narrowly at

Ian. „You know, I think I find it quite disappointing that you

have such lack of faith." He harrumphed.

„Yes, I understand that, but I was thinking about his youth

and speed rather than his brawn."

„And so was he, and that"s what cost him the bout," the

Doctor chuckled. „He was more concerned with doing the

thing quickly, than with doing it right."

He stepped aside to let a couple of students carry Jiang

into the surgery. The defeated man"s eyes were screwed tight

shut, his teeth were audibly grinding together. The Doctor

stopped the students and examined Jiang"s shattered foot.

He rattled off a list of words that Ian couldn"t quite catch,

and the lead student nodded.

„People like the young man I"ve been fighting tend to think

that sophistication is at the heart of power," the Doctor said.

„That the most complicated and flashy movements are the

best, and that doing them makes them more effective. But

that isn"t true. Simplicity is at the heart of power."

„Simplicity?" Ian asked.

„Why yes, of course. The more complicated and theatrical a

move, the longer it takes to perform. It also requires more

concentration, and so is easier to throw off."

„Well, anyway, you beat him. That"s what matters."

The Doctor chuckled. „I suppose I should be proud to take

the credit, but really he beat himself."

„He beat himself? You fought him, you won. It was because

you were smarter, but you still beat him."

The Doctor shook his head, and smiled in a kindly way.

„That young man there beat himself because he expected me

to fight back with the same kind of movements as he was

using. He acted as he would act against someone who would

punch and kick him back, and so wasn"t prepared for my

simply acting as a fulcrum, and letting him be a lever." He

sighed. „I suppose I shall now have to waste time treating

him, after he"s caused all this bother."

The abbot lay at peace, basking in the soft warmth of the

girls who shared his bed. There were three, though the bed

was large enough for at least twice that number. They were

pretty enough, but they didn"t stir his loins and he found

that this didn"t trouble him at all. When a woman stole a

man"s seed, she stole part of his vital energy, his chi. In many

ways the woman was death, if the man was not careful.

The room was formerly a set of reception rooms for the

monastery"s previous abbot. Like so many other people, he

would not be complaining about the situation any more.

„My Lord." Gao"s voice came through the door. It carried

quietly but clearly. „The two remaining astrologers have com-

pleted their calculations."

The abbot slid off the bed and pulled on a robe patterned

with lions. His eyes blazed and his voice changed. It

emanated from somewhere deep in the hearts of all three

monks: the abbot, Gao and, outside, Zhao.

„The stars are right."

Kei-Ying handed the final letter to Cheng. Logan thought the

Chinese doctor looked ten years older than he had yesterday,

after sitting up writing through the night. He couldn"t see

himself doing that. It was one of the reasons he had joined

the army: to get away from the family accountancy business.

„That one"s for Beggar Soh," Kei-Ying said.

„Yes, sifu,’ Cheng said quietly.

He slipped out.

Logan went to tell Major Chesterton the news. Chesterton

was asleep, another victim of the long night. He hadn"t

undressed further than taking off his boots and tunic, and

Logan was relieved to see that - in sleep, at least - he was

looking less troubled and haggard. As far as he was

concerned, a man like Chesterton didn"t deserve such

trouble. That was the way of the world as far as he could see

- the devil looked after his own, and those who were good

merely suffered for it.

He touched Chesterton"s cheek with the back of his first

two fingers for a second, then gently shook him awake. „Sir,"

he said.

„Wha...?"

„The letters are on their way."

„What le..." Chesterton shook himself. „Oh, those letters.

Right." He pulled his boots on and retrieved his tunic, then

headed back to Kei-Ying"s cell, with Logan following.

Kei-Ying was lying on the cot when they reached the cell.

He yawned. „I"m sorry, gentlemen, but even a Tiger must rest

from time to time."

„That"s all right," Chesterton said. „I just wanted to ask if

you have any other suggestions."

„If the Doctor is still alive," Kei-Ying said through another

yawn, „he should be able to help. He is a very intelligent and

civilised man, for a gwailo.’

Logan remembered seeing this doctor the previous day. He

didn"t know quite what to make of him, but he seemed to

have done Chesterton some good and that won him points as

far as Logan was concerned.

„All right," Chesterton was saying. „But on the condition

that you tell the truth about the English people at Po Chi

Lam."

„They are my guests, willingly. The Doctor is currently run-

ning my surgery. Unless he lost this morning"s duel..."

„And the beaten man?"

„Some drunken dock workers at the Hidden Panda did that.

I treated him."

„Who is he?"

Kei-Ying finally opened his eyes, sat up and looked

Chesterton in the eye. „As I am given to understand it... he is

you."

The children had gone and Ian was fetching Barbara some

afternoon tea. It was his first day of teaching in two years,

and it felt good. He had almost forgotten what it was like, and

why he"d chosen teaching as a career.

An adult student had demonstrated the moves the

schedule required the children to do, and Barbara kept them

in line. Ian had found himself explaining the workings of

fulcrums and leverage, to explain why certain moves worked

the way they did. This aspect of martial arts was something

that hadn"t occurred to him before, and he wondered if he

should take it up if - when - he ever got back to London. He

knew of an evening class in judo quite near to his place.

When he got back with the tea, he found that the Doctor

had joined Barbara. „That Jiang"s foot isn"t broken," he was

saying. Just very badly bruised. He"s really quite lucky."

„Well," Barbara said with visible reluctance, „I suppose it"s

for the best that no-one got really hurt."

„Yes, I suppose it is."

The Doctor turned to Ian. „Since we are already in China I

didn"t think Barbara and I would have to wait for you to go to

China for the tea."

„It"s been a busy day, Doctor, as I"m sure you understand.

One minute those kids are just running around chaotically,

but the next minute they"re focused and everybody"s kung-fu

fighting."

„Those kids are as fast as lightning," Barbara added.

The Doctor raised his eyebrows. „Are they indeed? And was

it, perchance, dear boy, a little bit frightening? Hmm?"

„I wouldn"t like to try to control a playground full of them,"

Ian admitted. „But I don"t think the word -"

A distant thud and a cry of pain silenced him. It had come

from the far end of the west wing. Ian was on his feet at once,

and ran to see what had happened. Jiang was hauling

himself through a window, and not quite managing to stifle

his cries as he moved his swollen foot. Ian sprinted through

the hall towards him, arms outstretched to grab Jiang and

pull him back in.

He was just too late. He saw Jiang limping towards the

corner of the grounds where the wall was lowest and tried to

squeeze through a window, but it was just a little too narrow

and he couldn"t get through. He dropped back as the Doctor

and Barbara entered the room.

„It"s Jiang," he said. „He"s gone through the window and is

trying to get over the wall. I think I might just be able to

catch him."

He started to leave, but the Doctor put a hand in his way.

„Oh, let the infuriating man go. After that defeat and loss of

face, he won"t be back."

„I hope you"re right, Doctor," Ian said. As far as he could

tell, this Jiang was the vindictive sort. He was sure they

hadn"t seen the last of him. „I really hope you"re right."

3

Music was in the air in the monastery. A small number of

nervous musicians were grouped where there had once been

incense burners, playing for the abbot. Gao found his lord

standing at the mirror behind the dais. His fingertips were on

the glass, as if he were trying to gauge what it felt like or find

something that was lost.

„My Lord," Gao whispered respectfully, and bent on one

knee, fist in palm.

„Gao." The abbot didn"t turn from the mirror, nor did his

expression change from one of awed puzzlement.

„Jiang-sifu has returned."

The abbot"s voice was soft. „Then the time traveller is dead."

„No, my Lord." Gao knew his master would be angry and

disappointed. He knew this because he felt the same way

himself, and knew Zhao would too. Zhao would almost cer-

tainly be feeling these emotions more strongly than he was;

he always had done, even when they were boys.

„No?" The abbot turned at last, his eyes glittering with a

growing anger. „Jiang lost the duel?"

„Yes, my Lord. He did not give up his life as he should have,

but allowed himself to be merely injured, and humiliated. By

his own admission, the Doctor treated the injury Jiang

received." Gao could barely keep the shudder out of his voice.

He knew his lord would feel it anyway, such was the bond

they now shared.

The abbot was silent for a long time. Finally he said, „Do

you remember what I looked like, Gao?"

„My Lord?" Gao had no idea what this had to do with

Jiang"s return. He was even more astonished by the fact that

his master could surprise him in spite of their bond. Then

again, perhaps this was why he and his brother were loyal

servants of their lord, and not the other way round.

„I do not," the abbot said. „I remember my name and my

desires. I remember that which I ruled, and how to make

decisions and make war. But I do not remember my face. Nor

yours, though I know who you are."

Gao thought for a moment. „No, my Lord," he said. „I do not

remember your face, or mine, or my brother"s... Does it

matter?"

„No. But I am curious as to why we do not remember these

things." He fell silent again, then: „Bring Jiang before me."

Gao bowed and backed out of the room.

The ferryman had brought Jiang to the small town where the

junk was now moored. Gao had been waiting for him on the

jetty with an armed escort of armoured warriors. Jiang

vaguely remembered passing through the town a few times

before.

He had tried to hide the fact that he was limping from Gao,

and the pain from himself, but Gao had known immediately

that he had been injured. By the time they reached the

monastery Jiang had told him the whole story. He didn"t

want to, but he knew he couldn"t hide his swollen foot for

long.

Gao had gone into the monastery first leaving Jiang with

the guards. He hadn"t given the guards any orders, but Jiang

suspected that he and they both knew they were there to

keep him where he was. He shivered.

After a few minutes Gao had returned and led him into the

monastery, and along dark, unlit corridors to the large hall

where the monks used to pray to their now-gone Buddha

statue.

The abbot was sitting on a throne on the dais that had

supported the Buddha. His face was as calm and impassive

as that of any of the four life-sized statues that were the

hall"s only current decoration. Pale, sweating musicians

twanged strings and tapped drums in a discordant excuse for

barbaric music, the likes of which Jiang had never heard

before.

„You know who I am, Jiang. Do you know what I looked

like?" the abbot asked.

The question took Jiang by surprise. „Like a living god, my

Lord," he said promptly. „Athletic, powerful, handsome. As the

emperor of all China should be."

The abbot"s expression didn"t change, but his tone did.

Jiang felt a stab at his heart. It wasn"t fear or horror, but the

certainty that he was doomed.

„I do not remember my face, but I do know how to tell when

someone is telling me what they think I want to hear, instead

of the truth that I asked for." The abbot stepped down from

the dais and paced around Jiang, who didn"t dare move.

„Do you lie to me often?" he asked conversationally.

„My Lord?"

The abbot paused and looked at Jiang with intolerable

calm. „I"m sorry, I didn"t think such a simple question would

confuse an intelligent man so. Are you in the habit of lying to

me, Jiang?"

„No, my Lord!"

„How can I believe that? How can I believe you?"

„My Lord, I am your faithful servant, pledged to serve and

please you -"

„Yet you lie to me when I ask you what I looked like .You

lied to me when you said you would kill the traveller."

„My Lord, I had truth in my heart

„You had cowardice in your heart!" the abbot roared in

Jiang"s ear.

Jiang almost stumbled at the shout.

„Cowardice and incompetence!" the abbot spat. „Do you

serve me by sparing my enemies? Do you please me by trying

to make a fool of me with your words? Your only pledge is to

keeping your own head on your shoulders. You say whatever

it will take to deflect the anger you fear from me."

„My Lord -"

„More accurately," the abbot continued, as he stopped in

front of Jiang, you tried to do what you thought would make

me not kill you. But, you are as incompetent in that as you

are in doing my bidding."

Jiang recoiled as the abbot"s eyes began to glow with a fiery

light that beamed from his eyes as if they were lanterns. The

abbot"s lips parted and the same glow was released from

between them.

A hard wall pressed against Jiang"s back, and he realised

with a shudder of terror that he couldn"t get any further away

from the demonic figure that approached him.

„You are weak," a voice said, though the abbot"s lips didn"t

blot out the light and Jiang wasn"t even sure it was the

abbot"s voice. It echoed, and seemed to come from

everywhere. „Weak. Coward. You are not fit to be a Han."

Jiang sidled along the wall, reaching out with his hand to

feel the corner that led into the corridor. His fingers curled

around the edge and he knew he could make a run for it.

The abbot, still a few feet away, raised an empty hand, his

palm towards Jiang. „You must be punished for the treachery

of incompetence."

Jiang grabbed the corner and pulled himself round it, the

pull giving him a bit of extra speed as he started to run. The

abbot was older and overweight; no match for Jiang"s

sprinting.

The abbot didn"t move. He merely smiled.

With an explosive report of displaced air, a lightning flash

connected his palm with Jiang"s back.

Jiang"s shirt caught fire even as he was blasted headlong

through the door. He crashed to the ground and the skin

across his shoulder blades blackened and cracked, flames

from his burning shirt climbing up his queue towards his

scalp. A couple of nearby men, who were scrubbing the floor,

snatched up their buckets of soapy water and ran to douse

him. Soaked, he remained face down, only the moan of a

deeply damaged animal escaping his lips.

Pain drowned out his senses, blotting out the abbot"s

approach until he stood over Jiang"s head. The abbot"s hand

stretched out again and Jiang"s heart raced. Terror of the

pain, and of oblivion, washed through him. The former was

stronger, and the only thought he could muster was that if

death would end the pain it would be welcome.

The abbot winced, an eyelid fluttering. His hand stiffened

into a claw, then curled into a shaking fist. As it did darkness

returned to his eyes. „Leave him to the fates," he told the men

around him. Then he turned on his heel and was gone.

Jiang writhed alone in a pain that was more exquisite than

he had ever imagined could possibly exist - but, mercifully,

not for long.

There was a lot of hugging and thanking and feasting and

drinking that night. It was the night Kei-Ying returned to Po

Chi Lam and was reunited with Fei-Hung. Fei-Hung and

Cheng had immediately arranged what, for want of a better

word, Ian would call a party.

Though there was much to celebrate, Kei-Ying and Cheng

also wanted to get down to business. Kei-Ying managed to

corner the Doctor and his companions at last, and drew them

aside to talk with Cheng. He quickly outlined the fears he

and Cheng, and Chesterton and Logan had about the Black

Flag and Jiang, and Cheng told them about the abbot.

He was telling his story for what felt like the third or fourth

time in a day. It felt good, getting it off his chest, and he was

beginning to enjoy the catharsis, though he suspected this

would wear off when he sobered up.

„The last raid I did, when I was a bandit, was against a

caravan to Sui Lim. Myself and nine others - you"ve met

Pang, he was one of them." The Doctor nodded as Cheng

continued. „We stole money, jewels, religious trinkets and

then there was a storm, so we took shelter in a cave. Three

Shaolin monks - martial monks - caught up with us there.

They beat the crap out of all of us."

„And, young man?"

„And... then something strange happened. I can"t explain it."

„Try."

„Whatever it was happened to the three monks. There was

this light, inside the cave, and it distracted them from tying

us up. Then..." Cheng shivered at the memory. „Then their

eyes glowed. I don"t mean like a cat"s do, but like a powerful

lantern does. I"ve never seen anything so unnatural, and I

never want to again."

„Then?"

„Then we escaped, left them there and hoped never to see

them again. And I didn"t. Until now. They"re the three new

Black Flag people. At least they claim to be. This abbot is

almost certainly the one who wanted Jiang to kill you -

luckily he overestimated Jiang"s brains, which is easy

enough."

„I see. And you say he also has other plans?"

„He has this obsession with getting hold of astrologers and

astronomers, and killing off anyone else who is a scientist or

teacher." Cheng glanced at Kei-Ying. „That explains a lot."

Barbara had been listening to Cheng"s tale, and was

becoming more worried as it went on. She gnawed on a

knuckle, then realised what she was doing and looked at her

hand as if she"d never seen it before.

„I wonder..." the Doctor said. He wasn"t looking at anyone in

particular, so Barbara assumed he was thinking out loud.

„I have a feeling..."

„“By the pricking of my thumbs,”„ Barbara quoted, „“some-

thing wicked this way comes.”„

„Yes, my dear! Exactly. There was something about the feel

of the TARDIS"s landing…"

„It felt pretty normal to me," Ian said.

„But you"re not connected to the Ship the way Susan and I -

the way I am. The tiny vibration of the controls under my

fingers..." The Doctor pointed to Barbara. „And then your

experience, so close to where the Ship landed. And now Mr

Cheng"s tale. These things all form a pattern," he opined

darkly, „and I wonder about it, and how it fits in."

„Fits in with what?"

„With human history, Chessington!" He shook his head and

stomped off, muttering to himself.

„Chinese his- Chinese politics," Barbara corrected herself,

isn"t really my speciality, but surely someone like this abbot

would have been a globally known figure. But I can"t think of

anyone who fits his description. Certainly not from the

1860s."

„There are many warlords in China," Kei-Ying told her.

„Being head of an army is almost normal for some people."

The Doctor returned, studying a small fruit. „Mr Cheng?"

„Yes?"

„Might I ask what sort of night it was when you first met

this, er - abbot?"

„It was the seventh full moon, just as it is now. There was a

storm for part of the night, but it was finished by the time we

came out of the cave."

„I thought as much. Master Wong, do you know anywhere I

might be able to get hold of a telescope?"

Kei-Ying nodded, wearing a puzzled frown. „Of what size?"

„The largest possible. And I shall also require a place from

which to observe with it. Somewhere as high up as possible."

„The tower," Vicki suggested. „It was at least four or five

storeys high. It should be an ideal observation platform."

„That"s Zhenhailou," Kei-Ying said, in an aside from

pondering the Doctor"s request for a telescope. „The British

use it as a watchtower."

„A capital suggestion. A telescope in Zhenhailou. „The

Doctor snapped his fingers and looked pleased with himself.

„If, that is, the captain or the major can be persuaded to let

us borrow the tower."

„I think Major Chesterton and I have an understanding for

the moment," Kei-Ying said. „In fact, that would solve both

your problems as the British have a large telescope there,

built by their navy."

„Excellent. Then there"s no time to waste." The Doctor lifted

a panama hat from a hat stand near the door.

„I shall go at once."

Kei-Ying followed the Doctor out to the gate. „Do you want me

to come with you?"

The Doctor smiled. „That"s very kind of you, Master Wong,

but I think I"m right in thinking that you"ve seen enough of

Xamian for just now, hmm?"

Kei-Ying couldn"t deny it. In fact, he"d be perfectly happy if

the island and its fortress sank into the river and were never

seen again. At the same time, it was his country, his city, his

friends, and he wanted to do his best for them all.

„Perhaps Ian -"

„No!" The Doctor looked as if someone had suggested he

drink poison. „The two Chestertons must not meet. Not ever,

do you understand me?"

Kei-Ying stepped back under the force of the Doctor"s insis-

tence. „I understand, but... why?"

I cannot explain in a way you would understand, Master

Wong. Suffice it to say that their meeting would be dangerous

beyond your imagination. For both of them, and for this city."

4

Zhenhailou wasn"t anything like as large as Xamian. Sitting

atop a low hill overlooking the city, it was a five-storey tower

manned by a platoon of soldiers and defended by a couple of

cannon.

The wall around the grounds was no higher than the one

around Po Chi Lam, and Sergeant Major Anderson thought it

was probably more for show than to keep out any invading

hordes. He was at the gate to the small compound,

explaining the new visitors to the sergeant in charge. „The

major has decided tae give these civilians the run o" the

place, but dinnae harass them too much; they"re actually

doing us some good."

„Even the Chinks?"

Anderson shrugged. „You never know."

The sergeant, a gruff, balding Yorkshireman, looked suspi-

ciously at the newcomers. The Doctor was staring at the

stars with an expression of barely controlled impatience. Ian

and Fei-Hung were carrying a tripod between them, and the

giant Pang was effortlessly supporting a large, long crate on

his shoulder.

„What the hell are they supposed to be doing?"

„Looking through a telescope. A big one, borrowed from the

navy, in that crate."

The sergeant"s mouth crooked up at one end. „You could

see the back rooms of the White Tigers from here with one of

them things."

„That"s as may be," Anderson snapped, making a mental

note always to close the curtains on future visits there, „but

this lot are looking at the stars and the moon. Chesterton

seems to think -"

„Yes, and what"s he doing here?" The sergeant indicated Ian.

„And why has he shaved off -"

„He hasnae." Anderson waited for the inevitable question

and the chance to see the sergeant"s mind implode.

„But he hasn"t got it now."

„There are two of them," Anderson said pleasantly.

The sergeant"s face was a joy to behold.

„But... how... ?"

„I dinnae ken," Anderson admitted. „The Doctor there has

some sort of explanation, but it sounded double Dutch to me.

I reckon they"re twins."

„I suppose..."

„Anyway," Anderson warned, „this one has no rank. Ye"re

not to salute him."

„Right."

„Apart from that, give them every assistance the Doctor

asks for." He turned to go, then hesitated. „But keep an eye

on the Chinee, just in case."

„Too bloody right."

Anderson went back to the civilians as the gate opened

behind him. „Right lads, ye"re on your own now. I"ll tell the

major that ye"re getting started."

Inside the compound oil lamps gave the already warm night a

friendlier touch of light. A couple of men in their shirtsleeves

were performing some sort of maintenance duties on a can-

non. The tower itself was five storeys high, but there were

only three floors.

The ground floor had been turned into a combined living,

eating and working area for the soldiers on duty. The ceiling

was so high that the lamps on the walls left the upper

reaches in shadow. An urn of tea so sweet and thick that Ian

thought he could have spread it on toast was simmering

away in one corner. Boxes of tools and bullets were scattered

around. Several smaller rooms split off from the main area to

give the man in charge privacy, and to separate the small

kitchen from the rest of the space.

The next floor up, actually in the middle of the tower, was

partitioned into untidy sleeping quarters and exuded the

rank smell of sweaty clothes and unwashed bedding.

Finally, sections of the tiled roof had been removed, giving

anyone on the top floor a clear view in every direction.

„Yes," the Doctor said, „this will be ideal. Ideal, my boy."

„Thank heavens for that," Ian grunted as he and Fei-Hung

set the tripod down. He wanted to yell with relief. He spread

the legs of the tripod, then attached the telescope, which

Pang lifted from its crate and held in place until all the

screws and bolts were tightened.

„Capital, my boy. Boys," the Doctor corrected himself.

He immediately set about lining up the telescope on the

first of his chosen targets. „Mars first, I think," he said to Ian.

„Easier to find."

„Precisely." The Doctor adjusted the brass knobs of the

telescope.

Fei-Hung cleared his throat and said, „I should be getting

back to Po Chi Lam."

„Very well, but be careful. City streets can be dangerous at

night."

Fei-Hung merely chuckled, and he and Pang left. The

Doctor continued to peer through the telescope, occasionally

swinging or tilting it on to a new bearing, and making notes

on a piece of paper.

Major Chesterton was walking in a hall of mirrors. The hall

was in total darkness, with no sources of light, yet he could

see the reflections clearly enough. Variations on his own face

leered at him shouting questions.

„Who are you?" a scar-faced Chesterton demanded.

„How long have your been here?" An old, white-haired

version of himself asked.

„Who is she?" the younger one demanded.

Then the reflections started to step out of the mirrors and

attack him. He fought back as best he could, but his other

selves all seemed to be experts in Chinese boxing of various

kinds. Fists and feet pummelled him, driving him down to

the ground and then through it.

He was drenched in cold sweat when he woke. He stumbled

to a cupboard for a brandy, and took a single hit from the

bottle. He had never had a dream like this before. Of course,

he had never before been told that there were two of him.

The very idea was utterly preposterous, like something Poe

would have made up. Chesterton wanted to laugh, but the

earnest expressions on the faces of such a diverse group of

reflections gave him pause. He seemed to recall the

Scandinavian legend of the Doppelganger, and wondered if

this was the kind of thing people had seen.

Perhaps he should see this double for himself, he decided.

His mind, falling back into the irrational world of dreams,

threw up a last suggestion. Maybe the other Chesterton was

the part of him that had been missing since his fall.

Ian was feeling a little jealous of the Doctor hogging the

telescope. It was a fine example of nineteenth-century

science, and he wouldn"t have minded taking a few

observations himself. The Doctor finally stepped away from it.

He put the paper on a low table and started scribbling

furiously, occasionally licking the pencil and mumbling to

himself.

Then he looked up from his calculations. His eyes were as

bright as new pennies. „A conjunction," he chuckled. „Yes,

there"s going to be a stellar conjunction of sorts."

The lightness faded from his voice as he looked at the

paper on which he had worked out his sums. „There are

many cycles to the heavens, depending upon which celestial

bodies you are relating to. In this case, there seems to be a

relationship between the position of the Earth, the moon and

several more distant regions of space."

„What sort of relationship?" Ian asked.

„A two-thousand-year-long cycle, which will soon reach its

turning point again." He looked out of the window, up at the

stars in the clear summer sky. „I must admit to you,

Chesterton, that I do not like the look of this at all."

„Doctor, you"re beginning to sound like one of those women

who think their horoscopes in the papers actually make

sense."

The Doctor gave him a withering look.

„I"m sorry, Doctor, but what you"re talking about sounds

more like astrology than astronomy."

„I"m sure it does, but just because something sounds like

something else, it doesn"t mean to say that it is that

something else." The Doctor tapped his calculations. „Suffice

it to say that I have good scientific reason to think that this

conjunction could well prove dangerous."

When Fei-Hung reached Po Chi Lam a man was sitting in

front of the gateway, leaning against it. Fei-Hung was sure he

had never seen him before, but he looked vaguely familiar.

He was quite tall and a lot of white was starting to creep into

his queue. His lined face had seen many years and probably

many fights, and the tattooed forearms that emerged from his

exquisite tunic were as solid and taut as if they were

moulded out of steel.

The man was asleep and for a moment Fei-Hung wondered

whether he should wake him, as he might have been a friend

of Jiang"s. But he was leaning against the gateway, so he

would have to be disturbed anyway. Fei-Hung reached out to

touch him gently, but the man"s eyes opened before he could

do so and he sprang to his feet.

„I"m terribly sorry, I didn"t want to wake anyone at this

hour," Fei-Hung said.

The newcomer put his hands on his hips and looked

askance at him.

„Good grief," he said. „Fei-Hung? My word, but you"ve

grown. I haven"t seen you since…"

„Do I know you?"

The stranger scratched his nose as he thought about this.

„Well, we"ve met, but you were very small at the time and

probably don"t remember. I"m called Iron Bridge Three. I"m a

friend of your father"s." He pulled a folded piece of paper from

his tunic and handed it to Fei-Hung. It was a letter from Kei-

Ying - Fei-Hung recognised his father"s calligraphy - inviting

the man to come and discuss the current situation.

Fei-Hung handed the letter back and saluted, fist in palm.

This man was one of the Ten Tigers, and deserved such

respect. „Come in. I"ll wake my father. He"ll be glad to see

you."

„Chesterton..." the abbot mused. „He will be the biggest

danger to us in Guangzhou. The Doctor will undoubtedly ally

himself with this soldier, who has already been sending out

messages to the Ten Tigers. Since Kei-Ying and the Doctor

have both survived, we should concentrate on the weakest

link."

„But there are two Chestertons," Zhao said. „We"ve been

assuming that Major Chesterton has simply taken to wearing

civilian clothes, but Jiang has seen the two of them..."

„They are clearly brothers," the abbot said. „That presents

us with an interesting opportunity." He smiled, obviously

taken with whatever plan he had in mind. Eerily, Zhao and

Gao smiled too, as if the three of them had the same feeling

about the same thought.

Both men will be on their guard for our assassins, but how

could Major Chesterton suspect his own brother of planning

to kill him?"

„The brother?"

„Yes. His name is Ian, if Jiang was correct. If we apply the

right pressure, he will be able to approach his brother far

more closely - and without arousing suspicion - than we

could."

„What sort of pressure did you have in mind?"

The abbot remembered something Jiang had told him, days

ago. „He has a woman. Her name is Barbara. If we bring her

here, he will do anything we ask to save her life."

Vicki had seen a lot of activity. First, late the previous night

Fei-Hung had brought in a man with the bizarre name of Iron

Bridge Three, and the early hours had been filled with the

muffled sounds of speech and laughter from the Wongs"

apartments.

Kei-Ying and Iron Bridge had gone off to Xamian before

breakfast, neither of them looking at all tired.

Now another stranger had interrupted the dawn exercise

patterns in the courtyard. He was big and long-legged, with

baggy clothes and a booming voice. He strolled in, did some-

thing of a double take at the sight of Vicki, then grinned and

stuck out a hand. „This is the western custom isn"t it?"

Vicki shook his hand. „Yes, it is. Are you one of the Tigers?"

She had been told that other masters might arrive over the

coming day or two.

„That"s right. Tham Chai Wen. Most people call me Three-

Legged Tham. I have a letter from Wong-sifu -" He broke off,

looking past her. „Do you know a large man, about seven feet

tall, who likes to wear a cloak and hood, by any chance?"

„No, there"s no-one like that here."

„Ah, then we"re in trouble, because four of him are coming

this way."

Vicki turned as he took up a fighting stance.

Tham kicked out at the first cloaked figure, a flurry of feet

to the head, and fell in agony clutching his foot the way Jiang

had earlier. The figure didn"t even wince. It just grabbed

Vicki, its fists squeezing her so hard that she thought the

bones in her arms would splinter under their grip. It felt like

the sort of pressure that could turn a piece of coal into a

diamond.

Remembering what little self-defence knowledge she had,

she thrust a knee into the figure"s groin. White-hot pain

exploded through her from her kneecap, but her captor didn"t

even flinch. It was as if she"d hit solid steel armour, or as if

the figure holding her was some kind of robot.

Then one of her arms was free, but before she could take

advantage of this, something in the back of her head popped

like a flashbulb, and she knew no more.

Students and healers were flying through the air like dis-

carded wrappings when Fei-Hung reached the hall, drawn by

the shouts and yells. Three large, cloaked and hooded men

were kicking in doors and slapping aside with incredible force

anyone who got in their way.

One was dragging Barbara out of her quarters, and Fei-

Hung immediately went for him rather than the men fighting

with the male staff and students. He had delivered his third

punch, and was launching a kick at the cloaked man"s head,

when the pain from the fist that had delivered his first punch

backed up his arm. The kick faltered and he stepped back,

his hands burning.

The man must be wearing armour under that cloak. Not

even little plates on leather, but western-style, solid steel

breastplates. Fei-Hung was looking for a weapon when

something exploded across his shoulder blades, and

everything went black.

The Doctor and Ian were in reasonably good spirits when

they returned from Zhenhailou with their calculations, but

Ian"s mood darkened when he saw one of Po Chi Lam"s gates

lying off its hinges.

Immediately wanting to check on Barbara and Vicki, he

dashed through the broken gateway, and stopped. The sight

he saw was like the aftermath of the battle for the Alamo.

Injured youths lay everywhere, gritting their teeth against

pain. Inside the surgery, Fei-Hung and a tall man in baggy

clothes were doing their best to treat the most badly

wounded. Their task wasn"t made any easier by the fact that

much of the furniture and many bottles and vials were

broken.

„What happened here?"

„An attack," Fei-Hung said bluntly.

„Who by?"

„Probably friends of Jiang," the tall man said darkly. „Or

thugs hired by him. The loss of face will have stung him more

than his broken foot, and he always had a foulness about

him. A nature you could smell from streets away."

Fei-Hung looked at his swollen hands, and knew from the

throbbing in his face that his cheeks and eyelids must look

even worse. He didn"t want to check this in a mirror. He tried

to flex his fingers but they felt glued into position, and a part

of his mind thought they might snap off if he pushed them

too far. Not that they were much use to him now. They were

too painful to use as fists, and too thick and senseless to sift

herbs and powders, or handle vials and cups of medicine.

He had never felt so useless. Even as a child he could fetch

and carry, or at least watch and learn.

He turned at the sound of footsteps to find the Doctor

watching him. The old man"s face was inscrutable, but Fei-

Hung thought he saw concern in the pattern of his features.

Then the Doctor stepped fully into the room, the light on him

shifted and his emotions were a mystery again.

The Doctor sighed. „It seems you may have been right about

that foolish man, Jiang."

„It wasn"t Jiang. Three-Legged Tham thinks it was men

hired by Jiang, but I don"t know."

Fei-Hung looked down at his hands again.

My gungfu skills have been of little use, and with hands like

these, I can"t prepare medicines properly. If my father was

here, it wouldn"t matter so much, but -"

„I"m sure Master Wong is just as concerned about how you

are, but he wouldn"t let it distract him from what he was

doing, would he?"

„My father? What has he to do with it?"

„He is a difficult man to live up to, but he is his own man,

as are you, young man. If you did your best, you can"t find

yourself wanting. Now, let"s do something practical, hmm?

Can you describe these attackers?"

„Not really. They were wearing cloaks and hoods."

„What about the one you fought? Could you not tell

anything from being so close to him? Or even from his

fighting style?"

Fei-Hung thought about this. It was natural for him to

analyse the style of an opponent. He was glad the same

thought had occurred to the Doctor. „He must have been

wearing armour. Not Chinese armour, but steel-plate

armour, like in your English stories."

The Doctor frowned and looked off into the distance. „That"s

very interesting, young man. And also very strange."

„He didn"t have much of a fighting style. It was very

primitive and relied mostly on just taking punishment no

matter what. But it"s not very easy to fight in armour."

Despite the heat of the day, and the thick blindfolds that

been wrapped around her and Vicki"s heads, Barbara was

soaked in a cold sweat as she lay on the floor. With no clue

as to the intent of the strong men who had carried them, her

imagination had been more than happy to make suggestions

of its own. If they intended simply to kill her and Vicki they

could easily have done so at Po Chi Lam, but knowing this

intellectually hadn"t stopped her stomach churning in

anticipation of a blade.

If the men weren"t bent on murder, the next options her

mind inflicted on her were rape or ransom or, possibly,

simply leverage.

She struggled, trying to get to her feet, then winced and

yelped as the knife that was cutting her bonds caught her

hand. The hood was pulled from her face, and she caught a

brief glimpse of several men as she looked around to see if

Vicki was all right.

The younger girl was looking at her. „Are you all right?"

Barbara asked.

„I think so," Vicki said nervously. „I haven"t anything

broken, anyway. But I think I feel sick."

The room they were in was large and high ceilinged, with a

large dais in the centre. Four statues stood against the wall

behind the girls, two flanking the door and one in each

corner. They were life-sized soldiers, their bodies carved into

the shape of padded tunics and leggings, and armoured

jerkins. Their faces were astonishingly lifelike and all four

were very individual. They hadn"t been merely pulled from a

mould.

Three men were on the dais. The two who were standing

wore leather armour over silks, with metal plates and studs

set into the leather. One was huge and almost too muscle-

bound to be real, the other was lean and mean-looking. Both

had dark hair tied into topknots. The third man, sitting

between them, was wearing fine robes over a well-cut tunic.

His hair was almost white, as was his goatee beard.

„Welcome," the third man said.

Barbara recognised instinctively that these were the men

Cheng had described, and that the one who had spoken was

the abbot.

„Just who do you think you are?" she demanded.

„Who am I?" The abbot seemed amused. „I am the lord of

this land. My name is Qin Shi Huangdi."

Barbara could feel the blood drain from her face and the

hairs on the back of her neck prickle. The words caught in

her throat before she could get them out. „The First

Emperor?"

„There were others after me?" He seemed to be struggling to

think. „Yes," he said at last.

„But the First Emperor died two thousand years ago."

For a moment the abbot looked shocked, then he smiled.

„Yes," he said finally. „Yes, I did."

5

Qin died.

He didn"t remember all of it. He didn"t remember meeting

any of his family, or the bridge of jade, or even the white light

he had heard his soldiers talk about after they were

wounded. Maybe the living just weren"t meant to remember

such things, or maybe the pain of being reborn scrambled it

all up in his head.

Dying was easy. The coming back hurt like all hell.

Whether the pain woke him, or his waking kicked the pain

into life, he couldn"t tell. All he did know was that every

breath was sending fire around his ribs, across his shoulders

and down his back. The fire paused in his chest to gather

itself, psyching itself up to come out fighting with each new

breath.

He rode out the waves of pain and discomfort, welcoming

them simply as sensations. They hugged him like long-lost

brothers whom he had not seen for a long time. He had for-

gotten what it felt like to expand his lungs with air and to feel

muscles stretch and move.

He was vaguely aware of another man at his feet. That was

appropriate. He wondered whether it was Zhao or Gao who

was respecting him so. He tried to remember how to make

the mouth form words, to speak to the man, but it had been

so long that the knowledge escaped him.

The man with the eye patch shuffled backwards, and now

Qin could see that his hands were solidly tied behind his

back. He was something to do with the owner of this body,

then; a prisoner of his.

The man with the eye patch ran, and Qin felt the urge to

pursue him and cut him down. It would be a great pleasure

to kill a criminal who had been so impudent as to enter his

presence. The body still would not obey his commands, and

the half-bound man was gone in a moment.

Every particle of his skin tingled, the robes he wore con-

straining his chest. The sound of running footsteps echoed in

the dimness of the cave. The light from a few fallen torches

made him wince, and he wished the tingle of air on his skin

would stop. He stretched and took a step.

He almost fell, unfamiliar with this body"s balance. He

didn"t remember noticing the need for balance before. Had he

simply been gone so long, or was something wrong with this

body?

Qin looked around, slowly and carefully, and saw two other

men in the same kind of robes he was wearing. They stag-

gered as if they were drunk, and he knew they were Zhao and

Gao because only the two generals could possibly be

experiencing the same sensations and unfamiliarity with

their bodies that Qin was.

For a moment he was overwhelmed by the sense of being in

three places at once: Qin, looking at Gao, looking at Zhao,

looking at Qin. Somehow - perhaps because of the angles he

was seeing them from - he knew that Zhao was the large man

with muscles like an ox, and that Gao was now the other

man.

There was a voice, too. No, not a voice... a thought, or

maybe just a feeling, somewhere at the back of his mind.

Somewhere at the back of three of their minds. He didn"t

quite catch it, and then it was gone, but he could feel the

potential for it to come back.

It took a few minutes to become used to the legs and arms

of this body, and learn to ignore the twinges in its back and

the niggles posed by its teeth. By then, he was able to walk

around almost normally and joined Zhao and Gao in the

centre of the chamber. Above them, mercury flowed and

glinted wetly.

Gao was looking at his hands, his expression still vacant.

Qin suspected his own was no better. „The wizard spoke

truth," Gao whispered, stumbling over the words with his

unfamiliar tongue. „I wonder how long -"

„It doesn"t matter," Qin said. „If this is the time, then this is

the time."

Then Qin heard the voice that was not a voice booming in

his head. From Zhao"s and Gao"s expressions he could tell

they heard it too.

„This is not quite the time. This is the prelude."

„Then the Eight Thousand...?" Zhao began.

„The window is too short," Qin said. But we will need an

elite. Perhaps a handful of captains. There is enough for

that."

„Yes," Zhao replied, in the echoing voice Qin had just heard

come from his own lips. „There is enough of a window for

that."

The two generals, as the abbot had called them, had removed

Barbara and Vicki after their audience with the „emperor" and

locked them in what used to be some kind of storage cellar.

The walls were still lined with shelves, and the room smelt of

vinegar and dark sauces.

„The First Emperor?" Vicki prompted. „That"s impossible, so

who is he really?"

Barbara gave the girl a smile, but it faltered, empty of the

reassurance it should have had. „The abbot Cheng spoke

about, I assume. And he"s - I suppose “insane” is a cruel

word - seriously mentally ill."

„You must not speak of my Lord this way," the thinner

general snapped. He was standing on the other side of the

door, sneering at the women through a small window. „He is

the First Emperor, and my brother and I are his generals."

„The First Emperor? That"s impossible," Barbara insisted.

You know it is."

Gao snorted. „I do not."

„And if I took you to an asylum in England I could

introduce you to any number of people who think they"re

Julius Caesar, or King Arthur, or Jesus." Barbara

concentrated on what she was saying, to keep the panic out

of her voice. „He needs help; you must see that."

„The only ones here who need help are yourselves, and

there is none here." Gao turned on his heel and Barbara

heard him march away.

„I think they"re all crazy," Vicki said. „Shouldn"t we try to get

them to a psychiatric hospital?"

„I don"t know, Vicki. Asylums in even the most civilised

European cities of this era were places of torture and terror.

I"m not sure what good one would do him."

Ian had searched everywhere and found no sign of Barbara

or Vicki. His stomach churned more and more with the

increasing certainty that the attackers had taken them. He

rejoined the others, who now included Cheng.

„Doctor," he said, „Barbara"s gone. And Vicki. I"ve looked

everywhere."

„I saw one of them carry off the young girl," Three-Legged

Tham said.

„And the one I fought was carrying Barbara," Fei-Hung

added.

„I knew it," Ian snarled, kicking over a wooden stool. „But

who could have done it?"

„Well, I still say Jiang," Tham said. „He"s petty enough."

„If it is, I"ll-"

„No, Chesterton," the Doctor interrupted. „You know, that

young man was most disagreeable, and I can certainly believe

he would bear a childish grudge, but this raid that took the

girls was too precise and too powerful for him." He shook his

head. „No, I rather think Mr Jiang would have tried to waylay

one of us in the street, or break in and cause trouble on his

own. This was more a sort of a military operation."

„I see what you mean, Doctor," Ian agreed slowly. „It does

look like some sort of commando raid."

„A commando raid, yes. That"s it exactly, Chesterton. This

was a carefully planned raid to snatch the girls and take

them away for some purpose."

„Not to kill them. They"d just have done that here.

Leverage?"

„On us, you mean? Yes. I think we will hear from the kid-

nappers soon enough."

„Not soon enough for me."

„We still don"t know who they are."

„I think I might," Cheng said.

Ian and the Doctor both looked at him.

„The abbot who"s split the Black Flag. Jiang was practically

worshipping him, and if he"s the one who"s been razing

villages he certainly has the experience of warfare."

„Now, you"ve mentioned this abbot before," the Doctor said.

„Tell me some more about him, if you please."

„If your women are in his hands... It might have been better

for them and for you if they had just died here."

„And why is that?"

„Because the abbot"s insane. I don"t mean eccentric or silly.

He cut out the eyes and tongue of a friend of mine because

he wouldn"t say that the unskinned deer in front of him was

a roasted pig. Then he carved out the deer"s still-warm heart

and ate it." The memory put a cold sweat on Cheng"s brow

and between his shoulder blades. „He just isn"t human."

The Doctor looked sharply at Cheng. „Is that so? We"ll see."

He turned to Tham. „Sir, when Master Wong wrote to you

he will have asked if you have heard of other attacks."

„Yes, I"ve heard of other attacks." Tham unrolled a map.

„The first was here, near Shaoshan. Then further south, east

of Guilin. They seem to be concentrating on older towns,

monasteries, temples... It makes no sense to me."

„Tell me," the Doctor said. „It is yuelaan jit, is it not?" Tham

nodded. „Have there been reports of, shall we say, strange

occurrences in the vicinity of these places?"

Tham looked surprised. „Yes. As a matter of fact when I

passed by Guilin last month the Taoist priests there were

swamped with requests for exorcisms."

The Doctor steepled his fingers and looked down his nose

at the map. „Sacred sites, temples and ancient towns. I see..."

„You do?" Ian asked.

„Yes, I think perhaps I do, but I can"t be certain, of course.

No, I can"t be certain."

„It"s just instinct, is it, Doctor?"

„Yes, my boy, instinct."

„Well, if you"ve got some kind of theory, is there some way

to check up on it? To be certain of it?"

„There would be, if I had a geological map of China. I

should rather like to see a layout of China"s faults. Fault

lines, I mean, and rivers and iron deposits."

The gwailo woman, Barbara, was sleeping. Qin remembered

sleep, and not with pleasure. With the darkness had come

death, each and every night. Lanterns had never held it back

long enough. The worst was not falling asleep, but waking,

knowing that life had paused and not knowing how or why it

had started again. Being sick to the stomach with terror that

the next time there might not be a waking.

The gwailo woman, Barbara, showed no signs of such fear.

Her face was calm and soft. The softness must hide iron, he

thought, to accept that daily taste of death with such

equanimity. He had, of course, never seen his own face while

asleep, but couldn"t imagine anything less than a contorted

rictus, desperately struggling to breathe again with the rising

of the next dawn.

„Bring her," he told the guard with him.

The guard opened the store-room door and pulled Barbara

out. Qin had her brought to his bedchamber. The woman

looked frightened, but unbowed. This was new and therefore

interesting to him.

He sat on a chair and indicated for her to sit too. She sat

on the floor, pointedly avoiding the large bed, which still held

the scent of womanhood from the three girls he had spent the

night with.

„You don"t fear me the way my own people do," he said.

„Why is that?"

„Because I"ve met your type before."

Such strength of will and mind. He was surprised, as he

had been so often since her arrival.

„I do not want you to fear me." He paused. „I am told you are

a scholar of history. A teacher?"

„Yes."

„Do you know what I looked like?"

6

Barbara was afraid, though the man she was afraid of was

the one who was insane and believed himself to be a

historical figure. She certainly wasn"t afraid of a monarch

dead for two thousand years.

She had been doubly afraid when he had her brought to his

bedchamber, but the fear had been knocked aside by baffle-

ment when he asked his question. She didn"t understand

what he meant at first.

„Do you know what I - Qin Shi Huangdi - looked like?"

For an instant, Barbara thought she saw anguish in his

expression and heard yearning in his voice.

„I don"t remember," he said.

„Well, I"m not sure. I know more about European and South

American cultures... But I remember seeing a portrait of the

First Emperor in a book once. He was quite a large man." She

hesitated.

„You mean fat."

„I imagine palace food for the Emperor is richer than for his

subjects."

„Continue, gwailo’, he said quietly.

„He looked severe, unforgiving. He had a longish black

beard."

The man"s fingers reached up to his own white whiskers.

„It"s ironic," the abbot - Barbara didn"t know what his real

name was, but it was unlikely to be Qin - said. „A foreigner

knowing more about me than my own subjects." He frowned.

„Of course, it is a spy"s job to know such things."

„We are not spies."

„Yet you come to me with fine words, trying to draw my

secrets from me."

„You kidnapped us, remember?" Barbara said pointedly.

„You have friends. I wish them to do something for me."

Barbara felt a slight relief. At least it was not lust that was

driving him.

„Then I can complete my work here."

„Work? Raiding towns, killing... Do you love war so much?"

she demanded. „Does it make you feel like a big man to raze a

town, or order people to work or to fight or to die?"

„Yes," he said sharply, and somehow the sharpness told

Barbara that he was lying. „That"s the best thing in life."

„“The greatest pleasure is to vanquish your enemies and

chase them before you,”„ Barbara said. „“To rob them of their

wealth and see those dear to them bathed in tears, to ride

their horses and clasp to your bosom their wives and

daughters.” That"s what Genghis Khan said."

The abbot left her then and walked out on to the hillside. The

sun was sinking, casting a honeyed light across the dusty

path and enriching the woodland shadows. If he closed his

eyes he fancied he could feel the trees, as if some emanation

from them was pressing against him. He could hear his

people moving around, attending to their duties and serving

him with their loyalty.

Something spread up from his spine and out across his

shoulders, enveloping his chest. It felt like the softest fur -

sensual, warm, comforting. He vaguely remembered it from

long, long ago. It was the best thing in life.

These were his woods, his trees, his country and his

people. If anything other than his love for them could bring

him that spreading happiness, he had yet to find it.

Kei-Ying, Iron Bridge Three and Major Chesterton pored over

the military maps in Chesterton"s office. With a practical

military problem to solve, Chesterton was able to push the

mystery of his duplicated self to the back of his mind.

„From what... Mr Iron Bridge has said I think it"s clear that

this abbot and his followers have been coming south for a

while."

„How can we find out where they came from?" Kei-Ying

asked.

„We can retrace the advances of the battle lines. They may

have tried to disguise their origins by flanking manoeuvres,

but if we have a chronology of which places were attacked -

or persuaded to join their cause - we should be able to track

them back."

„Good," Iron Bridge snapped. „Then let"s get on with it, shall

we?"

Ian paced around the main hall at Po Chi Lam, unable to

settle. If only there was something he could do, a place he

could go.

„Cheng," he said. „You met this abbot person. Can"t you tell

us where?"

„It was aboard a junk. It moves around. I don"t know where

it would be now."

„Can"t we put the word out to these Tigers of yours and

have them look for it."

„We"re foreign to you, not stupid, Chesterton. Of course

we"ve done that."

Ian resented Cheng"s tone, but knew it was deserved. „I"m

sorry. It"s just..."

„Barbara is your woman. I understand."

„Ha!" the Doctor exclaimed, attracting Ian"s attention.

He looked from his sheet of calculations to a map from Kei-

Ying"s study, „I should estimate the focal point will be there,"

he stabbed a finger on to the map, „somewhere in Shaanxi

province." His lips thinned. „Very near to Xianyang."

„Focal point?" Ian asked.

„I"ll show you," the Doctor said.

Qin Shi Huangdi was the only name he knew himself by. The

face that stared back at him from the mirror had

undoubtedly had a different name, but he had no idea what

it might be.

In the mirror he saw Zhao step into the room behind him

and kneel.

„My Lord." Zhao lowered his eyes to the floor, respectfully.

The muscle-bound frame that knelt no doubt also had a

different name, as had the lean body of Gao. Qin wondered

whether either of them had any inkling of what those names

were.

„Yes, General," Qin acknowledged.

„The caravan to Xianyang is in operation, my Lord."

„Good. We can return there shortly."

„What about the gwailo women?"

„Bring the tall, dark-haired one with us."

Zhao hesitated, and Qin could feel his indecision. „My Lord,

she is a historian and teacher. Your orders are to leave none

such alive."

Qin looked down at his hands and studied them, trying to

remember whether they were similar to, or different from, the

hands he used to have. „And she will die when I have

extracted from her all that I wish to know. She comes with

us."

„And the girl?"

„Who?" The image of a younger gwailo girl came belatedly

into his mind. Another...traveller? As if it mattered whether

she was living in China or just visiting. She was nothing.

„Zhao may kill her at his leisure."

„It shall be done," the abbot knew this as certainly as if

Zhao had made the promise aloud. When he turned, Zhao

was already gone.

The Doctor led his little group through to a small hall in the

eastern wing. The ceiling was high enough for climbing ropes

to dangle from the beams. Shafts of sunlight came through

what would have been upstairs windows if the hall had an

upper floor.

Picking a grapefruit from a bowl in one hand, the Doctor

took a delicate pen in the other and began to draw lightly on

the skin of the fruit.

„What on Earth are you doing?" Ian asked, intrigued despite

himself.

„Arranging a little demonstration. Actions speak louder

than words, eh?"

Ian couldn"t deny this. He looked over the Doctor"s

shoulder and saw that he was drawing a rough outline of the

Earth"s continents on the dimpled skin.

The Doctor put the grapefruit on to a low stool and

positioned it near one wall. Then he pulled a couple of spare

pince-nez from his pockets and popped the lenses out of their

frames. He called to four young students and handed each of

them a lens before sending them up the climbing ropes.

Ian watched, puzzled, as the Doctor directed the students

to go up or down a little, and then to hold out the lenses in

their hands. All was explained when the first lens caught the

sunlight from the high window and beamed it to the other

lenses and onwards. A narrow pinpoint of light glowed on the

grapefruit, in the heart of the outline of China. In seconds,

the skin of the fruit began to smoulder, then blacken, and a

thin column of smoke rose from it.

„A magnifying glass a few inches away would have done the

same thing," Ian said.

„It would, but what if you are much further away and still

want to transmit focused energy to an exact spot? You

require a sequence of elements between you and your target.

If you are relying on nature, the motions of the stars, to

provide this sequence of elements then you are constrained

by the rhythms of the universe."

„You mean orbital cycles?"

„Yes, and every now and again several orbits coincide and

you have a conjunction. A sequence of elements between the

Earth and a most dangerous region of the cosmos."

„And then people there can use that sequence to transmit

something to Earth?"

„Not people, young man. Intelligences. Sentient influences.

Beings quite beyond our kind of imagination."

„And what would they be sending to Earth?"

„That I don"t know, and cannot until it happens. Perhaps

energy, or their discrete sentiences in person, or memes and

programs. It could be anything, but whatever it is will not be

a good thing for the people of your Earth."

Kei-Ying and Iron Bridge both stabbed their fingers at the

same point on the map, in central China. Chesterton, who

had been about to do the same, was astonished. These men

hadn"t been trained by the British army, yet they had as good

a grasp of strategy as he had himself.

„Somewhere in this vicinity, I should think," Iron Bridge was

saying. „Shaanxi province."

Kei-Ying nodded in agreement.

„Very odd," Chesterton said.

Both Tigers looked at him expectantly.

„What makes you say that?" Kei-Ying asked.

„If they"re some sort of rebels, why not head east, for

Peking, Nanking and Shanghai? It"s a shorter journey and

the juiciest targets are there."

„Perhaps the Doctor will know."

That afternoon Kei-Ying returned to Po Chi Lam. He paused

for a moment, feeling as if he were sinking into the arms of

his beloved wife. Then he walked on to tell the Doctor his

news.

„Doctor," he said as he entered the main hall. „We"ve calcu-

lated the abbot"s region of origin. If Chesterton and I are

correct, it"s -"

„In Shaanxi province," the Doctor said. „Yes, do try to keep

up, will you?" He handed Kei-Ying his calculations and

pointed to the map. „Xianyang."

Kei-Ying"s eyebrows rose. „I have never heard of such a

place."

„It isn"t called that any more, but that was its name the last

time there was a conjunction like this one. No, today it is

called Xi"an, I believe."

„Xi"an."

Ian chuckled at the Doctor"s trumping of Kei-Ying. He had

long since ceased to be amazed by anything the Doctor did.

At least, he told himself he had, but it was a pleasant lie, like

believing in Santa Claus, and the truth was just as

reassuring.

A child came up to him. „Mr Chesterton?"

„Yes?"

„There is a messenger for you, at the gate."

„Thanks"

Ian went outside and crossed the courtyard to the gateway.

One gate was closed, the other was in a woodworking room

for repairs. A man stood on the other side of the space the

missing gate would have occupied. He lowered his hood as

Ian approached, revealing an angular yet handsome face, and

a topknot of black hair. Ian could make out the edge of

armour below his collar.

„Ian Chesterton?"

„I am. Who wants to know?"

„I am General Gao. I have a message for you."

„I see."

Ian stretched out his hand, expecting to be given paper or a

scroll. Instead, Gao held up a wristwatch. Ian recognised it

immediately; there were few enough of these in 1865. „Where

did you get that?"

„From its owner. The woman Barbara and the girl Vicki are

in the custody of my master. If you wish them released, you

will kill your brother by sundown tomorrow."

„My brother?" Ian realised immediately that the man must

mean Major Chesterton. Well, there was enough of a

similarity between them, and Ian supposed it was a logical

assumption for someone not acquainted with the idea of time

travel to make. „You mean Major Chesterton."

„If he still lives by dark tomorrow..." Gao left the words

hanging. He flexed his lingers around the watch and, with a

sharp crack like the splitting of a bone, his hand balled into a

fist. When he opened it splinters of metal, and tiny cogs and

springs, trickled to the floor.

„You understand?"

The abbot"s face didn"t smile, though Qin felt it should. The

male time traveller understood perfectly what Gao meant.

Qin didn"t understand how he knew this and nor did he care.

All that mattered was that his resurrection was going

according to plan, just as the sorcerer had foreseen, and his

generals were doing their jobs as well as if they were a part of

his own mind.

CHAPTER FIVE

The Prodigal Son

1

Ian rushed into the surgery, telling himself he was delivering

important news urgently and not panicking. He knew it was a

lie.

„Doctor!"

„What is it, Chesterton?" The Doctor was all business in

response to Ian"s tone.

„I"ve just had a visitor - he says he has Barbara and Vicki."

„You mean a kidnapper?"

As if it wasn"t blindingly bloody obvious, Ian thought, then

realised this was the voice of panic and fear speaking. He

forced himself to take a deep breath and approach the

situation rationally. Anything else would just make things

worse.

„Who was this man?" the Doctor asked.

Ian had hardly any idea of the personalities of this time

and place. I don"t know. He said his name was Gao."

„Can you describe him?"

„About your height, lean, short hair. The cloak he was

wearing hung pretty oddly, as if there was more than just

man under there."

„Weapons and armour, you mean?"

„I couldn"t swear to it, of course, but, yes, I think so."

„Good!"

„Good?" Ian was stunned. „What"s good about it?"

„For one thing, my boy, it means this abbot is convinced we

are a threat to him, and hopefully that means we are.

Secondly, if they are using Barbara and Vicki as leverage

they will be kept alive for the moment, and that is the most

important thing."

Barbara and Vicki had been fed steamed dumplings and

vegetables. They had been given small cups of rice wine to

wash the food down with, which tasted to Barbara like petrol

flavoured with soy sauce.

„We have to escape," Vicki said. „That abbot"s insane, worse

than Bennett. You know it"s only a matter of time before he

kills us. Or worse."

Barbara looked at the door. „I"m not so sure, Vicki. There"s

something about the way he talks. I almost half-believe him."

„That he"s possessed by the spirit of an ancient emperor?"

Vicki was surprised. Based on what she knew of Ian and

Barbara so far, she hadn"t thought the citizens of the

twentieth century were quite that superstitious or primitive.

„But it"s impossible," she said. „At least it is without having

access to machines and technology that haven"t been

invented yet."

„I know that. But electric torches haven"t been invented yet

either, and I know both the Doctor and Ian carry pen

torches."

Barbara laid her hand on the wall, feeling the roughness of

the brickwork. „Vicki, do you know anything about this

“stone tape” idea the Doctor had when we told him about

that little house?"

„Well, I"ve heard of it, of course. It"s quite simple really.

Metallic oxides in..."

„Yes, I"ve heard about all of that side of it from Ian as well. I

was wondering if it could, I don"t know, work the other way."

„The other way?"

„Yes. I mean, what if he really is Qin Shi Huangdi? What if

he somehow recorded himself into one of these stone tapes,

and then that recording was put into the abbot? Could that

be possible?"

„Neural technology wasn"t on my syllabus, but... an AI can

respond to what you do," Vicki said. „An artificial intelligence,"

she added for Barbara"s benefit.

„Artificial intelligence?"

„AIs are sort of like recordings in computers, but they can

think for themselves and hold conversations, fight against

you in games... What they do or say will change depending

on what you do or say."

Light flooded across the room, interrupting their conver-

sation. The abbot was standing in the doorway. „Computers,"

he said. „Neural technology. No-one on this insignificant

world knows of such things. How is it that you do?"

Vicki felt as guilty as she was terrified. She had let

something slip that she shouldn"t have, and it might well

benefit their captor. Her face fell, sinking with her heart.

The abbot regarded her, but not as coldly as she had

expected. Was there something he wanted from her? She

hoped not.

„You were borne to this time and this place by a TARDIS?"

„Yes." Vicki was too surprised to hesitate long enough to lie.

„Vicki!" Barbara complained plaintively Vicki wanted to

cringe away from the betrayed look in her eyes.

Barbara could have slapped Vicki for being so stupid. She

might be from a more advanced time, and have had a more

advanced education, but she was still a child.

„What do you -" She broke off as light flared from the

abbot"s eyes. It was as if someone had thrown a switch to

turn on the headlights of a car.

„Then you are a traveller?" his voice boomed. „You are both

travellers?"

„I am a teacher. A history teacher," Barbara said. „You know

that. But I travel these days, yes."

„Through the space-time vortex?"

The voice was oddly inflected and not simply with a

Chinese accent. It sounded mournful, the way the man in the

moon might sound if he could talk.

„Yes," Barbara admitted, too startled to say anything else.

„You travel with this girl," he indicated Vicki, „and the one

called Chesterton?"

„Yes."

The being - she wasn"t sure that it was the abbot, or even

Qin Shi Huangdi - stepped forward. The glow inside his head

was so bright it was beginning to show through the flesh of

his cheeks and between the gaps in his teeth. The hairs on

the back of her neck began to rise, twitched by some kind of

electricity.

„And the Doctor?"

Barbara gasped. How could whatever this was know about

the Doctor?

„How -" She bit off the words, but it was too late. Booming

laughter echoed around the room and through her head.

„This Chesterton. This... other Chesterton? He is your

husband?"

She started to say „Yes", telling herself it was only a useful

lie to discourage him from getting any lecherous ideas about

her. But she decided that if he had such plans in mind she

would have found out already. She had been in his

bedchamber, after all. Besides, she was increasingly sure

that this new voice belonged to neither Qin nor the abbot.

Something new was happening here that she didn"t quite

understand.

„No, he"s not my husband."

It was an easy mistake to make. She and Ian had

essentially been living together since they entered the

TARDIS nearly two years ago. She supposed they knew each

other as well as any married couple who"d been together for

the same length of time.

„Not yet, anyway," she added.

Barbara was determined not to give the abbot, or Qin,

whatever it was he wanted. The light from his eyes and

mouth bore down on her like the headlights of an

approaching car that can freeze a rabbit in its tracks.

„What do you want of us?" she repeated, trying to sound

more brave - or at least less afraid - than she felt. She tried to

sound more like her father. „Whatever it is, I doubt it can be

for the best."

„Your loyalty," the voice responded. „Join with us and rule in

your time."

„What do you mean... join?"

„We would have humans speak for us and carry our wishes

to your people," the mournful voice boomed. „We offer you

more than freedom." The voice seemed to echo metallically. It

was as if the syllables were being beaten out on a gong. „We

offer you your world."

At first Barbara couldn"t believe what the voice had said,

nor understand what it meant. „I"m sorry?"

„We would have dominion over this world for all time. We

would have rulers in all times. Our dominion over this world

is inevitable. You will oversee it for us."

Barbara didn"t know what to say, or whether to believe that

this lunatic - or whatever he or it was - was offering her the

rulership of the entire world. She couldn"t imagine why he, or

it, thought she would have any idea what to do with the

world.

„Why us? What makes you think we"d want to rule the

world, or even have any idea what to do with it?"

„You are not like the other organic beings on this world.

You are more advanced."

„I see... You sensed that, did you?"

„We know you are a traveller in time. You have seen many

worlds, and many times." Qin, the abbot - whoever - turned

away.

Barbara felt herself start forward to see if she could help,

then remembered that he was holding her captive and was

unlikely to be in need of her sympathy. All the same, she felt

that he did need help of some kind, and not just the psychi-

atric treatment she had thought about earlier.

Then he turned back, the light gone from his eyes. „Walk

with me, woman," he said to Barbara.

A guard appeared at his side and grabbed Barbara by the

arm, dragging her out of the room.

„I was ruler of China, woman! The first ruler of it all." He fell

silent again.

„Yes," Barbara agreed. „You were ruler of all China. But not

this China."

„This China? Are there other Chinas?" he sneered.

„No, there"s just the one. But it"s changed since the time of

Qin Shi Huangdi. Every map in the world has been redrawn

thousands of times since those days. Different peoples and

races have moved around, come and gone."

„This I understand," he admitted. I was listening while you

and the girl talked."

He seemed unsettled, much to Barbara"s surprise. He

looked haunted and jumpy. Not at all like the image of

hands-on dictator that he showed to his men.

„You have said you could help me."

„Yes," Barbara stammered, feeling a little more confident.

Perhaps the abbot was just mentally ill after all, though she

couldn"t think of an explanation for the glowing eyes. „I might

be able to, if you let us go."

„That I cannot do," the abbot said immediately. „I still need

your friend Ian to kill Major Chesterton - and don"t imagine I

won"t kill you if I have to."

Barbara"s fear came back with a vengeance.

„I don"t even know who this body belongs to," Qin insisted.

„A warrior monk, I"m told." He shrugged. „That"s as much as I

know, or care, about him. Nothing of him remains." He hesi-

tated. „At least, not here."

„Then where?"

„Nowhere, I hope."

„If you want my help," Barbara said, „then I need to ask you

something."

He didn"t tell her not to ask, or otherwise try to silence her,

so she pressed on. „If you really are the First Emperor, how

did you come to be in this body? It"s not your original,

surely?"

For minutes that felt like hours he simply stood with his

back to her, not replying. She couldn"t see his face, nor could

she read his body language particularly well, but she hoped

he was thinking about what she had asked him.

It was clear he thought some part of his life was missing, or

at least hidden from him, and she wished she could give it

back. Unfortunately, she couldn"t even decide which he" was

the one with a missing element to his life. Qin? Or the abbot?

„A great wizard of Japan told me how to cheat death," he

said at last. „He told me the materials with which to surround

myself. How my spirit could live outside the flesh. If you can

call it living."

„He didn"t tell you how long it would be before you found

another body?"

„No. Nor how slowly time passes in the darkness when you

have naught but your own thoughts for company. I followed

the wizard"s instructions to the letter," Qin said. „My generals

and I, and the Eight Thousand, took our assigned places in

the sacred space that had been built to the wizard"s

specifications.

„At the seventh full moon of the year we watched the night

swallow the moon, and then..." He frowned, remembering.

„Then there was darkness. No bridge of jade, no celestial

temples."

„No heaven?"

„No hell. But then, I imagine there wouldn"t be for the

immortals."

He shivered at the thought of the darkness. He had no idea

how long he had been alone with his thoughts. No sight, no

sound, no touch of silk or flesh, no taste of meat or wine.

Having only his own thoughts for company, yet also sensing

that he was not alone, because his generals and his troops

were with him. „I thought I would walk the earth for ever."

He looked at the guard. „Return her to her room."

The guard steered Barbara back through the kitchens

towards the store room, the keys to its door jingling in his

hand. It occurred to Barbara that he would not be expecting

a white woman - or any woman, probably - to overpower him.

He would have to at least partly turn his back to unlock the

door, and perhaps she would have a chance to do something

then.

They reached the door and the guard made Vicki step

further back into the room before he opened it. He never

expected Barbara to reach forward and pull the sword from

his belt. He reached for a dagger, opening his mouth to raise

the alarm, but Barbara swung the blade as best she could.

The flat of the blade smacked against his ear and he

dropped before he could shout. Barbara pushed the door

open. „Come on," she urged Vicki.

Delighted at Barbara"s ingenuity, Vicki could barely contain

her excitement as she ran through the door. Still holding the

sword, Barbara led her towards what Vicki hoped was a

supply entrance to the kitchen.

As they emerged out on to the terraces, Vicki heard a shout

from the kitchen. Either the guard had woken up or another

one had found him.

„Run," Barbara told her, tossing the sword aside.

Both women dashed to opposite sides of the terrace. Vicki

hoped the guards would follow her and allow Barbara to get

away, but she knew Barbara would be hoping the reverse.

She heard a scream from behind her, and Barbara"s voice

shouting „Keep going!" Vicki didn"t dare stop to look round,

but from fear of Barbara"s sharp tongue rather than the

guards. She bolted for the town, and quickly lost herself in

the rubble.

She could hear guards moving around, their armour and

weapons rattling, and tried to be quiet now that she was out

of their sight. She had no idea where she was, but hoped that

if she could reach the river a boat might perhaps carry her

downstream to Guangzhou.

Qin was furious when the guards dragged Barbara to him as

he stood on the hillside. Her head was still ringing from

where one of them had backhanded her.

„This is how you “help” me?" he snarled. „Poisonous viper!

You had best pray to whatever barbarian gods you worship

that Ian kills Chesterton, because if he does not I will slake

my thirst for vengeance with your head!"

„I can help you," Barbara insisted, knowing it was a lost

cause. „There"s another possibility."

She felt guilty for what she was about to say. If the abbot

really was mentally ill she would only compound the

problem. However, she had seen enough strangeness on her

travels to entertain the possibility that what he was saying

was true, in which case her theory might also be true.

„Perhaps what you"ve told me is completely true, all of it.

Then, what if the recording of your mind was somehow

changed? Edited to remove unnecessary or undesirable

elements."

„By whom?"

„I don"t know. Who says it had to have been by anyone?

Perhaps it just didn"t work properly, and only part of what

Qin was actually survived. Don"t you see what I"m getting at?"

Barbara didn"t want to shout, but she could feel her voice

rising and tried to stifle it. „Even if what you"re saying is true,

you can"t be the original Qin. You"re a copy of his mind and

memories. Even Qin"s dynasty died with his son."

Qin reeled as if struck. „I had a son...?"

„Qin Shi Huangdi would have remembered that, surely?"

„I am he!" Qin roared. Thirty-odd years of blood and fire

tingled in his nostrils. He heard the screams of the executed

and cheers of the honoured. He could see the battlefields he

had fought on as clearly as if he was still standing on them.

He could hear the cheers that had greeted his ascension to

the throne of a unified China as if the trees around him were

shouting their triumph.

He knew he"d had women, but why couldn"t he see their

faces in his mind? He couldn"t remember the name of any

woman from his palace at Xianyang, yet he knew the names

of every one of the Eight Thousand who had accompanied

him on that last, glorious campaign.

The birth of a son and heir would have been a momentous

event, but he remembered no such occasion. So why did this

Bar-Bara insist there had been one? To catch him out? Prove

to him that he was just a deluded old abbot who imagined

himself to be the unifier of China?

The most frightening thing was the thought that she might

be right. What if he, Qin Shi Huangdi, was really dead and

gone to dust long ago, cheated of the eternal rulership that

was his divine right? What if he was just an old monk who"d

been hit on the head once too often?

Qin sank to the floor, pulling his knees up and huddling

around them. If he could make himself small enough he

could hide from that fear.

The lights blazed on behind his face.

„Yes," something boomed, and Barbara realised her mistake

- if the abbot was possessed by Qin, then Qin was also pos-

sessed by something else!

Terrified beyond words, she was dragged back to the store

room.

With no boats usable, Vicki had slipped into the water and

hung on to a log that was floating downstream. She hoped it

would give her cover from any watching guards as well as

keep her afloat.

Her plan had worked well enough, but she hadn"t counted

on soon foiling asleep in the water. She coughed herself

awake, vomiting up muddy river water as something pulled

at her arms and pressed on her back. She screamed,

thinking a guard had caught her. A grubby but strong hand

pressed against her mouth to silence her as she was rolled

over.

„It"s all right, I"m a friend!"

The speaker was a short, middle-aged man whose grey-

veined hair was too unkempt to be called a queue. It was

more of a Gordian knot.

„I don"t believe you!"

„I came from Po Chi Lam. Wong-sifu and your friend the

Doctor sent me."

„And who exactly are you?"

He smiled and puffed himself up as if he were a VIP in full

evening dress. „My name is Soh Hut Yi. Most of my peers call

me Beggar Soh."

„I can"t imagine why," Vicki said in spite of herself. „Oh! I"m

sorry, I didn"t mean it that way."

The man merely grinned, a yellowed wall of teeth. „I bet you

can."

He held out a grimy flask that looked like something that

had originally belonged inside an animal. „Want a drink?" He

unstopped the flask, letting out something that smelt like

used reactor coolant from a spaceship.

„No thanks," Vicki said politely. „I"m... trying to give it up."

„Oh. That"s probably wise," the man said, and guzzled the

contents in one go without any apparent effect. He tossed the

flask aside and clapped his hands together. „Well now," he

said with a grin, „I suppose we should get you back to Po Chi

Lam, shouldn"t we?" His eyes sparkled conspiratorially.

2

Vicki knew she should be delighted to be back at Po Chi Lam

and with the Doctor and Ian again, but she wasn"t. She

couldn"t get over the feeling that she had been wrong to leave

Barbara. She felt sure Ian was hating her for not staying, or

not managing to rescue Barbara from that awful place.

The Doctor and Ian both acted as if it was all right, of

course. They smiled and said nice things about her bravery,

and insisted that she had done the right thing, but they were

only words. She was sure she had let the side down.

„But if you escaped," she imagined she heard Ian thinking,

„then where"s Barbara?"

Vicki looked at his pretend-happy face, and wished

someone would call her away so that she wouldn"t have to

say anything. She took a sip of water, suddenly needing to

wet her lips. „Barbara thinks she can help the abbot get

better. She thinks he might be just mentally ill."

Ian blinked and his eyes were unfocused for an instant, as

if he had taken a punch. „That"s our Barbara, all right."

„This is most unfortunate," the Doctor said. He stepped out

into the courtyard and looked up into the heavens. He looked

haunted for a moment. „Most unfortunate."

„Whether he"s just mentally ill or something more," Ian said,

„we can"t just leave Barbara to him. Who knows what he

might be doing with - or to - her."

„And what do you suggest?" the Doctor asked.

„That we mount some sort of rescue mission."

„That would be incredibly dangerous," Beggar Soh warned.

„As a matter of fact, almost suicidal."

„I"ve risked my life for Barbara before."

„Oh, Ian, I don"t know," Vicki said. „I think we should rescue

her, but we probably need the army. Something was

definitely strange about that abbot."

She didn"t think it was anything as mundane as insanity.

She knew there were illnesses, even in her own time, that

caused the sufferer to hallucinate or to generate other

personalities, some of which might be those of historical,

mythical or fictional characters. She had never heard of

glowing eyes being symptoms of such an illness.

Aliens, she thought. Either the abbot and his „generals"

must be aliens posing as humans, or they must be in the

thrall of some kind of parasitic being that had taken control

of their bodies. She had heard stories from her father, and

other people on the ship to Astra, about creatures that could

do that.

She shivered. Neither possibility was particularly pleasant.

„Then let"s get the army. We have to rescue Barbara!" Ian

said. He looked around for a weapon, or a disguise that

would get him into wherever she was being held.

„We will rescue her, Chesterton," the Doctor told him. „We

will. But you can"t just rush off and fight your way in."

„I can slip in. Disguise myself..."

„I see, and can you disguise your face as that of a

Chinaman?"

This stopped Ian in his tracks.

„Exactly."

„I"ll go," Fei-Hung said. Ian looked at him in surprise.

Behind the young man his father sported a momentary smile

of pride.

„I can"t ask you to fight my battles for me."

„There is no “my” battle," Fei-Hung said quietly. „There is

only right and wrong. And that battle is everyone"s."

Ian felt a momentary swell of thanks, and a general pride in

humanity. „Thank you, Fei-Hung. I can"t say enough to thank

you for even thinking that."

„We"ll all go," Kei-Ying said suddenly. „Tham, Iron Bridge,

Beggar Soh, all of us."

The Doctor nodded his agreement. „And Major Chesterton

will want to be involved. I will speak to him and see if I can

borrow some of his men. That will take time, so I suggest that

you," he indicated Fei-Hung, „act purely as a scout. Check out

the lay of the land and see if Barbara is still there."

„The Doctor is right," Kei-Ying said. „You scout ahead and

we will follow."

Fei-Hung nodded. „Yes, Father."

Beggar Soh interlocked his fingers and looked out from

under his brows at Fei-Hung. „It seems we have a Tiger Cub,"

he grinned.

Fei-Hung walked out of Po Chi Lam on what might be his last

night on Earth. He knew he was probably overdramatising

the situation, but tomorrow he would undertake a journey as

a compatriot of not just the Black Flag or the Guangzhou

militia, but also of the Ten Tigers of Guangdong - or three of

them, at least.

He found himself outside Miss Law"s window without con-

sciously realising that this was where he was going. He

tapped on the window quietly so as not to disturb her

parents. After a moment she opened it, and let him in to her

small fruit-scented bedroom.

„Fei-Hung." She hugged him. He inhaled the scent of her

hair, freshly washed but not perfumed. It was natural and

pleasant.

„I wanted to see you tonight," he said. He wanted to

continue, to tell her that she might never see him again, but

the words caught in his chest.

„Something"s wrong," she said. „Is it your father?"

„No. I... I have something to do. Something dangerous."

He didn"t want to say any more. Barbara"s face floated into

his vision, wracked with sobs and angry tears as it had been

when her beloved was fallen. He closed his eyes as he

embraced Miss Law, and Barbara"s face became hers,

weeping and lamenting for him.

„Whatever it is," she whispered into his ear, „you know I will

believe it right."

He swallowed hard, trying not to imagine the pain she

would have in her heart, or the all-encompassing numbness

that would freeze her mind if she saw him dead or crippled.

He didn"t want to go. What sort of lover could put his beloved

through such a trauma?

He pulled slightly away from her, so that he could look at

her. „I can"t go."

She touched his face. „You"re afraid."

Fei-Hung shook his head. „I"m not afraid of anyone. It"s

just-"

„You"re afraid of hurting me. Or upsetting me." She held his

gaze. „Tell me honestly, Fei-Hung. Is what you"re going to do

dangerous?"

„Perhaps." In truth, he didn"t know, but he could guess.

„Probably. I"m not afraid of death or injury, but I can"t put

you through the emotions that you would feel if either of

those things happened. I"ve seen it on the face of a friend of

my father"s when her man was beaten and broken, and I

would rather not have such a look in your eyes, whether I

was there to see it or not. It would be as if I was attacking

you."

She held him tighter, and the sound of her breath next to

his ear was as natural and soothing as the surf on a beach,

or the passage of a bird"s wing through the air.

„You wouldn"t even have considered going if it wasn"t in a

just cause."

„No, I wouldn"t."

„Then the cause is... ?"

„The woman I spoke of, a friend of my father"s, is being held

hostage to force her man to commit murder. I hoped to find

her, and free her."

„Then if I was selfish enough not to let you go and the man

was killed, or the woman died by her captor"s hands, it would

be as bad as if I had slit those throats myself. Could you

inflict that upon me?"

„No." Fei-Hung was torn. He would be harming her either

way. „I can"t go, but I can"t not go

„The man I love wouldn"t put a selfish concern above saving

an innocent life. And I doubt he could really love a woman

who did that either." She smiled, tears in her eyes that made

him want to break down into sobs. It wasn"t guilt that made

his cheeks wet, but the sheer quantity and strength of his

emotions.

„If I... ?" He swallowed and looked at the floor. He cursed

the fact that he couldn"t control his tongue as well as he

could control the rest of himself.

„When I come back, will you marry me?"

„I thought I was going to have to wait until our fathers

arranged it." She kissed him. „Yes, of course."

„Then I suppose I"ll have to come back alive."

In his bedchamber Barbara"s words echoed around Qin"s

mind, chasing him and snapping at him, and not letting him

have a moment"s rest. Madness, she had suggested, an

incomplete spell for immortality. Even possession within

possession. This was not what the wizard had promised him.

Qin kicked a table over and the noise drew Gao. The general

burst in, sword at the ready. He put it away when he saw

that there was no-one else in the room.

Qin continued to rage, and tore at the grey hair that had

begun to grow again from his borrowed scalp. „Who am I?

What am I?"

„You are the First Emperor of China -"

„No!" He whirled on Gao pointing a silencing finger. „I have

memories of rulership, of passing laws, of ordering

executions, of leading my people to battle... but those are the

only memories I have. If I founded a dynasty why do I not

remember my sons? If I had sons, why do I not remember?"

„It must be something in the abbot"s mind resisting you."

„There is no abbot"s mind!" Qin stopped and turned to the

mirror he had been using to judge his new face in earlier. „Or

is there?" He felt a fear that he had never known before. He

thought he had been afraid of death, terrified by it, but now

he felt something far more disturbing.

„Am I a fiction - a diseased part of this abbot"s mind? Do I

really not exist at all, except in my own imagination, in a

head I only think I have taken possession of from its rightful

owner?"

„If that were true, how could you remember your life two

thousand years ago?" Gao asked.

„How do I know that I do?" Qin demanded. „How do I know

that what I remember is a true memory, and not just a dream

or a wish that I think is a memory?"

„The gwailo woman must be a sorceress; she has bewitched

you. Let me kill her for you," Gao pleaded. „The pleasure in

her suffering will remind you of the truth, and she will no

longer poison your mind with her evil. Let those who love you

serve you."

„She must not die!"

„Why not?" Gao asked.

Qin realised that he didn"t know. He wanted to say, „Yes,

kill her," but the words would not come. „Because it is not

fated," he snapped at last.

„Then it is time to fetch her. We must go tonight. The con-

junction is upon us."

Qin realised he had almost lost track of the time. He

nodded. „Bring her outside."

Gao saluted and left. Qin went outside. There, Zhao was

waiting. The rage in Qin"s mind had burnt itself out for now,

but he knew it would be back and shivered inwardly at the

thought.

Gao soon dragged Barbara out to meet them and Qin

grabbed her by the wrist. Light blazed from his eyes and

mouth and he raised both hands. Zhao and Gao stepped

forward, the light from their eyes and mouths joining the

light from Qin"s, and raised their hands too. Electric fire

crackled around their forearms and fingers, and lashed out

like grasping claws.

The lightning merged between the three monks and

snatched and tore there, ripping a hole in the air. Through

the ragged gap, which was edged with actinic fire, Barbara

could see a dusty hillside covered with the stumps of cut-

down bushes.

Qin reached a hand back and grabbed her wrist. Then he

stepped through the hole, pulling her with him.

3

Beggar Soh and Vicki had described their journey back to

Guangzhou in great detail. It was simple enough for Fei-

Hung to follow it in reverse. He had taken a small sailing

dinghy, leaving a few coins on the jetty at the docks where it

had been moored. The tide was coming in and had given the

boat a much-needed boost upstream. He had beached the

dinghy as soon as he saw the tops of the junk"s masts in the

distance and gone the rest of the way on foot.

The town was deserted. He had expected at least some of

the guards the abbot had lured from the Black Flag still to be

around, or maybe some prisoners, but there was no-one. The

town was completely empty.

Next, Fei-Hung slipped down to the lone jetty. The junk

was still afloat. A couple of guards patrolled the deck, so he

felt confident that the town wasn"t permanently abandoned.

The junk was being kept ready for use.

Fei-Hung slipped quietly aboard and put both guards down

with rapid punches and kicks to the head. He tied them up

quickly so that he could search the junk in peace. It was

empty. No-one was aboard except for the guards, and Fei-

hung left them bound and gagged when he left. They would

be able to talk to his father and the others when they arrived.

The old monastery was his ultimate destination. This was

where Vicki had said she and Barbara were held prisoner.

Fei-Hung"s confidence about finding Barbara was fading. He

had found the place easily enough, but the absence of people

suggested she might already have been killed or removed. He

began to hope that he would find nothing, and therefore that

she had been taken away somewhere else. He didn"t want to

find her body lying alone in the abandoned building.

The main doors of the monastery were ajar, and Fei-Hung

didn"t touch them as he squeezed past in case they squeaked

and alerted anyone within. A short corridor led him to the

main hall. There was a dais and a few stools, but no statue of

the Buddha, no incense burners, no religious paraphernalia

of any kind. Fei-Hung didn"t like it at all. Whoever had

removed all this had turned a sacred space into just a space.

He looked for a door that would lead deeper into the

monastery. It would probably be behind the dais, he thought.

He spotted it quickly and pulled it open.

Two men blocked his path. One was lean and carried a

staff. He matched the description of the one Ian had seen,

called Gao. The other, whom Vicki had called Zhao, was like

an ox standing on its hind legs. On any other day Fei-Hung

might have been afraid as well as wary, but not today. Today

he was simply relieved, because they were indeed men and

not whatever that thing near the temple had been.

Gao lunged forward with the staff while Zhao circled round

to stop Fei-Hung from getting away. Fei-Hung was happy

enough with that; if the pair were wrong about what he

wanted to do, their tactics might also be wrong.

He dodged back from the whirling staff, pretending not to

notice Zhao closing in behind him. When the muscular

general was close enough, and about to attack, Fei-Hung hit

him in the gut with a tiger-tail kick, without looking round.

Zhao doubled over and toppled, but Gao redoubled his

attack. Fei-Hung blocked as best he could, careful to block

against the man"s forearms rather than the wood itself. If he

could stay in close enough, Gao wouldn"t be able to swing the

staff well enough to use it with enough momentum to do real

damage.

Then Gao unexpectedly swung the staff down, sweeping

Fei-Hung off his feet. Fei-Hung rolled immediately, narrowly

getting out from under the edge of Zhao"s foot as it slashed

towards his neck.

He sprang back to his feet to engage the unarmed Zhao

again, keeping the man-mountain between himself and Gao.

Fei-Hung was faster with his kicks and punches, but Zhao"s

muscles were like iron. All Fei-Hung"s punches rebounded

from Zhao"s forearms, all his kicks from the outsides of

Zhao"s calves. Suddenly the tip of Gao"s staff was jabbing

past either side of Zhao"s head, and Fei-Hung had to dart his

head aside like a pigeon to avoid it.

He needed a breathing space to assess his strategy and

acquire a useful weapon. He stunned Zhao with one of his

father"s speciality no-shadow kicks, then push-kicked him

back into Gao. Both men tumbled in a heap crushing the

black wooden throne.

Fei-Hung used the rebound from the kick to flip

backwards, and snatched an umbrella from a stand near the

door. He would have preferred a proper sabre or broadsword,

but the main shaft of the umbrella felt as solid in his hand as

any staff would.

His breath burnt his lungs, but he was excited by this

rather than pained. He felt he had the measure of the two

generals and, while he respected their skill and refused to

feel comfortable enough to underestimate them, he was

satisfied they did not outclass him. All that mattered was

that he did his best. Live or die, he would be doing his best

for his friends, his country and his beliefs.

Zhao and Gao were back on their feet and advancing on

him from either side. Gao twirled his staff ominously, while

Zhao held a leg from the broken throne in each hand in a

double guarding block.

Fei-Hung didn"t smile, but he relaxed and let his expression

clear. Let the enemy wonder whether he was angry or afraid,

excited or overconfident. Let them not know who their enemy

was.

He was Wong Fei-Hung: healer, teacher and defender of the

people he cared about, whether he knew them or not, and

whether they were Han or not. Zhao and Gao were warriors

who sought to elevate one man above all others. It didn"t

matter whether they were crazy men or possessed by ghosts,

because either way they were servants of oppression who

valued force over thought. That was all they were, and it was

all he needed to know.

Fei-Hung rolled the umbrella shaft around his wrist,

testing its weight and balance. It didn"t move the same way a

sword would, but he knew he could adjust for that. He

twisted the shaft in his hand, resting it on his left arm which

was outstretched behind him. With his right hand, he

smoothed down the front of his rumpled tunic and beckoned

his opponents towards him.

They rushed him together. Fei-Hung bounded forward a

couple of steps and leapt into the air between them. One foot

hit the middle of Gao"s staff as if it was a ladder rung, and

prevented him from swinging the weapon. The other caught

Zhao"s shoulder, making him stagger aside.

Then Fei-Hung was on the balls of his feet, blocking and

parrying Gao"s staff with the umbrella. The umbrella jarred

painfully against the heel of his hand with each block, but it

didn"t break.

Then Zhao was upon him as well, and Fei-Hung found him-

self blocking the staff with side kicks to Gao"s hands and

fencing against the two impromptu batons Zhao was trying to

drum on his head with. The trio danced around the room like

this for a moment, each seeking an advantage, until Fei-

Hung managed to hook the staff with the umbrella shaft and

slam it into Zhao"s fists.

Before either general could recover, Fei-Hung stabbed

backwards for Gao"s groin with the point of the umbrella and

snapped a no-shadow kick at Zhao"s face. Both generals

staggered back, allowing Fei-Hung to slip a toe under the

fallen staff and flick it up into his hand.

He twirled the staff, thrusting it forward and back, aiming

for the chests, groins and faces of both opponents. Their

arms swung and shifted rapidly, blocking the attempted

blows. Zhao managed to catch the end of the staff in a cross

block, then lashed out with a foot and snapped it in half in

the middle. He immediately lunged forward with the half he

now held, fencing with Fei-Hung who still held the other half.

Fei-Hung circled desperately, trying to keep Zhao between

himself and Gao so that the leaner man couldn"t flank him

and attack. Finally, he saw an opportunity as Zhao lunged

with his half of the staff at his stomach. A strong enough

impact could rupture the younger man"s spleen and kill him.

At the last second Fei-Hung switched the piece of staff to his

left hand, turned it behind the arm and launched his right

foot on a roundhouse kick towards the inside of Zhao"s

elbow.

Zhao"s right arm snapped and crumpled inwards, the piece

of staff falling to the floor with a clatter. Not yet certain that

Zhao was quite out of the fight, Fei-Hung let the momentum

of his movement carry him round into a spin, and hit him on

the side of the head with another tiger-tail kick from his left

foot.

Zhao toppled sideways revealing the other man, who looked

from Fei-Hung to the fallen man. „Brother!" Gao cried.

Something in his tone told Fei-Hung he meant the word in

its literal sense. Fei-Hung almost gave up then, because he

knew that if it was a matter of family honour a brother would

always seek to avenge a brother. Defeating one would merely

redouble the efforts of the other.

Gao didn"t return to the attack. Instead a startling, almost

blinding, light blazed from his eyes and he thrust out his left

hand. Fei-Hung didn"t know what this meant, but he knew it

was bad for him so he dived and rolled, just in time to avoid a

bolt of lightning that shattered the air and ignited a small

wooden stool against the wall.

Fei-Hung snatched the stool up by the end of one leg and

threw it at Gao before he could do whatever it was again. Fei-

Hung didn"t understand what had just happened, and knew

this meant it was time to get out if he could. His father had

taught him that there was no shame in knowing when to

withdraw.

Zhao was blocking the door, the same light beaming out

from his eyes and from his grin, his left hand rising. Fei-

Hung turned, too terrified to think, and found Gao advancing

on him. Gao held a sword in one hand and was using the

other to pat out a flame on his shoulder.

The hairs on Fei-Hung"s arms and neck prickled and he

dropped, sliding feet-first to kick out at Gao"s kneecaps. Gao

fell forward and, in the instant that he was separated from

Fei-Hung by only a few inches of air, took Zhao „s lightning

bolt in the face.

Instead of landing atop Fei-Hung, Gao was blasted clear

across the room, where he slammed into the wall with

enough force to splinter the boards. Fei-Hung had never

heard a scream like his in his life before, and fervently hoped

he never would again. It was a sound he knew he would hear

in his sleep every night for the rest of his life, if he had one.

Fei-Hung instinctively grabbed the sword Gao had dropped,

but realised that the steel would only attract the lightning if

there was another bolt. Zhao had moved out of position, so

Fei-Hung made a dash for the door. He burst into the fresh

air just as there was a snapping bang behind him.

Zhao followed him out and another lightning bolt hit the

ground under Fei-Hung. The blast knocked the running

youth off his feet. Fei-Hung wasn"t injured, and he rolled and

even managed to keep hold of the sword. He got on to his

knees as Zhao paused by a small tree.

Zhao stretched out his hand again and Fei-Hung hurled

the sword with all his might. It took Zhao through the palm,

pinning him to the tree at the instant the lightning snapped

into being around his fingers. His fingers and thumb simply

burst. Jagged light ripped out from his body, emerging like

sweat from a condemned prisoner. His scream put Gao"s out

of Fei-Hung"s mind for ever more.

Then the blinding serpents of light slithered away into the

ground and under the rocks where such wriggling things

belonged - and Zhao crumpled, leaving half his hand pinned

to the tree.

Fei-Hung caught his breath and all his desire to keep

standing fled from his body. He slumped to his knees, too

exhausted to keep in the sobs that his pounding heart and

head were letting out. He didn"t feel scared or sad, but he

had to let his sobs out like steam from a train"s engine. If he

didn"t, he thought he"d explode just like an overheated boiler.

Fei-Hung couldn"t believe his eyes. Through the still-open

door, he saw Gao rising to his feet, quivering and shaking

with either trauma or rage. Fei-Hung couldn"t tell which, and

didn"t care because the mere fact of his being upright was

horrible enough.

Gao"s hair was smouldering, his lips torn to bloody flaps by

shards of exploded teeth and his nose was all but gone. All

this was bad enough, but it was his eyes that struck Fei-

Hung the most.

They were gone. They had burst and their contents had

boiled away in a literal flash. Through the blasted sockets Fei

Hung could see the incandescent sun that was contained by

Gao"s skull.

Gao turned away and slashed his hand through the air. A

rent opened up, edged in lightning. To Fei-Hung"s

astonishment he could see another place through the tear. A

hill with tents and buildings clustered around it. Then Gao

stepped through the hole and it closed up with a bang.

4

The Doctor and his friends, and Kei-Ying, Three-Legged

Tham, Beggar Soh and Iron Bridge Three arrived some hours

later. The Tigers had brought men from the militia"s Fifth

Regiment to restore order to the deserted town.

Fei-Hung had managed to drag Zhao into the monastery,

and had laid him on the dais in the main hall.

The muscular man was pale and covered in a layer of damp

sweat. He was shaking and the sounds that made a tortuous

escape from his throat could have been either tears, laughter

or some bizarre, bastard offspring of the two.

„He"s gone into shock," Kei-Ying said, as the Doctor and Fei-

Hung wrapped blankets around Zhao.

At the sound of his voice Zhao"s eyes opened wide. They

darted around searching for something. „What happened?" he

asked in a quivering voice. „Did the bandits get away from the

cave?"

The Doctor, Ian, Vicki, Kei-Ying and Fei-Hung exchanged

glances.

„Bandits?" Fei-Hung echoed.

„What cave?" Vicki asked.

„Now, now," the Doctor said thoughtfully, „this poor devil

has been through rather a lot lately, and we shouldn"t rush

him."

„Devil is right," Fei-Hung said. „He shot fire from his hand,

and -"

„Undoubtedly some kind of advanced weapon," the Doctor

snapped. „Just because something relies on the projection of

energy rather than pieces of metal -"

„There was no weapon, Doctor," Fei-Hung insisted. „He held

out his hand like this...," he mimed the action, „...and

lightning struck from it."

The Doctor"s expression darkened and his eyes narrowed,

seeing explanations that no-one else in the room could see. „I

see, yes." He turned back to the injured man. „And what do

you have to say for yourself, young man?" he demanded

sharply.

„I don"t understand," the defeated general answered through

teeth that were gritted against obvious pain. „I was in a cave.

We had chased some bandits who robbed a caravan. They

went into a cave, and we followed. We fought them, and

then..." His expression went blank. „Then I woke up here, and

my hand is gone." He swallowed, looking at the bandaged

stump of his arm as if he could will his hand back. „Did one

of the bandits do this?"

„No, they did not, General Zhao," Fei-Hung said. „I did that."

„General?" the man said, wonderingly. „I am no general, I

am a monk. My name is Yeung."

Everyone in the room started to talk at once, but the

Doctor raised a hand to quieten them. „Hush now! A monk,

you say, hmm? Tell me," he continued slowly, „did anything

strange happen in this cave? Anything unusual?"

„There was a sort of light," Brother Yeung admitted. „Like

the reflection of the sun on water if you throw a stone into a

pool."

„And what happened then?"

„I woke up here."

„Yes... I"m afraid I, eh, rather thought that might be the

case." The Doctor stood up. „I wonder, would this monastery

have an infirmary of some kind?"

„They usually do," Kei-Ying said. He lifted a large bag, not

unlike a carpetbag. „And I have some useful ingredients here."

He started pulling out jars and bottles, arranging them on

the dais.

Fei-Hung walked around the dais as if looking for a clue to

the monk"s state of mind. „He can"t remember anything. I"m

not really surprised - if he was possessed, the mind con-

trolling his body would not be his own. Any memories would

have been drained away with it."

„Not necessarily," the Doctor said. He steepled his fingers

and regarded the wounded monk. „This unfortunate man

might still have some secondary memories of who - or rather,

I should say, what - his strange handler may have been. Or

what its aims and objectives were. The trick, I think, will be

to find a way to get at and access them."

„Secondary memories?" Ian echoed.

„Well, if you read a book you remember the story, even

when the book is taken away from you."

Ian nodded, understanding at once. „You mean he won"t

remember being that person, but he might remember hearing

it think or something."

„Yes, dear boy, I should think there"s a rather good chance

of something like that."

The Doctor stepped over to Kei-Ying"s vast array of herbs

and ointments that nestled like pigeons in little square nests.

„But if he doesn"t know himself, at least consciously -"

The Doctor silenced Ian with a hawkish gaze. „Then we

shall just have to inquire of his subconscious, shan"t we?

Hmm?"

He started to lift jars and bottles from the dais, and

examine their dusty labels. A couple he put down on a plinth

and the rest he put back, his hands darting in and out of the

growing field of vials like birds hunting for that early worm.

„Yes," he chuckled to himself, „the subconscious indeed."

Kei-Ying looked at the jars and bottles the Doctor was

collecting. He frowned for an instant but the frown cleared -

Ian was impressed by how quickly - and he nodded with both

understanding and approval. He didn"t say what it was he

understood, so Ian was left none the wiser. Instead Kei-Ying

simply began measuring out tiny amounts of the contents of

the vials and mixing them.

Ian was fascinated by how carefully he did this; the

slowness and care with which he worked seemed as

ritualistic and reverent as it was methodical.

Kei-Ying looked at him and Ian got the uncomfortable

feeling that the Chinese doctor knew exactly what he was

thinking.

„If a man paints a picture," Kei-Ying said conversationally,

„the brush strokes are unique, for the precise moment of each

one with exactly that amount of paint on exactly the fibres of

that piece of silk will never come again. That picture is part of

who he is - a frozen moment in a man"s life."

„I suppose," Ian admitted, though he had no idea where Kei-

Ying was going with this.

„A herbal mixture made by a healer is the same. This

draught will be unique, because these exact seeds will never

be in my hand at this exact date again. I must take great care

over it because it is part of me, part of my work, and I am a

careful man who gives thought to such things."

„I"m not sure I understand."

„Ah, that is the first step in understanding. Who and what

we are," Kei-Ying said, „is not just this flesh that contains our

thoughts or even those thoughts themselves. It is everything

we do, everything that is perceptible to ourselves or others."

„You mean context is part of who we are?"

Kei-Ying smiled and set the draught down, completed.

„Have you ever watched a child fly a kite with a ribbon

trailing from it, looping and turning through the sky?"

„Watched it?" Ian chuckled. „I"ve flown many a kite in my

youth."

„Then imagine that you could, at one moment, see that

ribbon at every point in the flight simultaneously. A twisting,

complex tube that takes up perhaps miles of sky You can

also see the air that supports the kite, the wind"s currents

that brush against it as it brushes against the wind... Now

imagine all of that is you. Not just your lifetime, but the real,

whole you, affected by everything you affect. But the body

and mind that you live in, that stands there listening to me

tell you this, is only the ribbon as you see it normally."

The wording was strange, and not very scientific, but Ian

thought he knew what Kei-Ying meant. It was a sort of

holistic view, he felt. He looked for the Doctor"s reaction, and

saw that the old man was wearing a secret smile and the

expression of someone who has just found a momentary

wonder while passing through a rainbow.

Kei-Ying indicated the finished draught. „This is one of

those unnoticeable and innumerable breaths of wind that

have touched the ribbon that is me. Knowing this, I must

create and treat it as carefully as I would any other part of

myself." He held the draught to the monk"s lips, letting him

sip at it.

Once the monk had drunk the draught, the Doctor waved

his hand in front of the man"s eyes. The old Roman ring on

the Doctor"s finger caught the light strangely. „Now, I am

going to count backwards from five. When I reach one you

will be asleep, but you will hear my voice and be able to

answer me. Now. Five... four..."

Brother Yeung"s features relaxed, his eyes glazing over.

„Three," the Doctor continued, „two... one." He stopped

moving his hand. „Someone or something was with you for

the last two years. It was inside you, but you heard it speak

and heard others speak to it. You saw what it did and you

know what it wanted."

„Yes."

„Who was it?"

„General Zhao."

„And who is this General Zhao?"

„Loyal general to the emperor, Qin Shi Huangdi. He is in

Abbot Wu."

The Doctor frowned. „In?"

„Zhao"s memory was preserved. It took me over, came into

my head. He is immortal."

„Immortality," the Doctor said to himself, as if trying the

concept on for size. „Tell me, Chesterton, if you were in

charge of something - a country, or even a large organisation

- and wanted to be sure that your plans for it were carried

out for ever more, even after your time, what would you do?"

„Look, Doctor, I like a good mental challenge as much as

the next man, but surely this isn"t the time to be -"

„This is exactly the time! And I know it may not seem like it

to you, but I am certain that this is a vital key to rescuing

Barbara. To outfox our opponent we must understand him."

„Well... I suppose I"d leave instructions - notes and

memoranda."

„Yes. A good start, but notes and memoranda can be forged,

can"t they? You want to be absolutely certain that your

orders remain for ever, to be obeyed by those who follow you.

Indeed, perhaps you even want to make them believe you are

still there giving them!"

„I could record my orders on a tape, I suppose." The thought

took hold, leading Ian to expound further as ideas and

thoughts often did. „Yes, I could make tapes with my policies

and orders. Have them played over intercoms, or even down

the phone to subordinates, who might think it was the real

me."

„Exactly! Now you have it. You could make a recording,

which would give out the orders you wanted even if you were

no longer there. So long, that is, as there was someone

around to play the recording."

„But, Doctor, I"m from the 1960s, so it"s easy enough to find

a tape recorder. But this is the middle of the nineteenth

century."

„Yes, and I happen to believe that this particular recording

was made for earlier still."

„At the time of the First Emperor?"

„Yes, two thousand years ago."

„But, Doctor, you know that"s impossible. They didn"t have

tape recorders in those days."

Before the Doctor could answer, Ian corrected himself. „But

you mentioned a sort of recording before, to Barbara. A

“stone tape” you called it. Are you trying to suggest that this

General Zhao is one?"

„Yes, my boy, that is exactly what I am suggesting." The

Doctor nodded towards Brother Yeung. „His story is quite

clear cut, isn"t it? Qin Shi Huangdi wanted to rule for ever,

and somehow he found a way to have his mind and person-

ality recorded as a stone tape, along with those of his two

generals."

„Then he found his immortality, after a fashion? It doesn"t

sound like much of an afterlife to me."

„No, he didn"t really. This recording is only a copy of his

mind at the time, but it is no more really him than a

recording of a man singing a song is that original man."

„It sounds like a pretty unstable mind, too."

„It most certainly was. Unstable and dangerous. In those

days the Chinese believed that eating imperishable materials

such as gold and jade would make the body equally

imperishable. So Qin liked to snack on powdered jade and

gold dust."

„But that"s ridiculous. It could only lead to heavy-metal

poisoning. And if gold affects the body anything like lead or

arsenic..."

„It does."

„Brain damage, eh?" Ian asked, though he didn"t need the

Doctor to answer this for him.

„I"m afraid I was thinking too narrowly, Chesterton, when I

speculated about a stone tape."

„Too narrowly? It sounded pretty broad-minded to me."

„Yes, but a recording doesn"t respond to you, does it? It just

plays."

„An AI could respond to what you do," Vicki said. „An

artificial intelligence," she added, this time for Ian"s benefit.

„Artificial intelligence?"

„AIs are sort of like recordings in computers, but they can

think for themselves and hold conversations, fight against

you in games... What they do or say depends on what you do

or say."

„My dear child! You"ve hit the nail precisely on the head."

The Doctor chuckled. „That"s exactly what you"ve done."

„You"ve both lost me," Ian admitted. „The stone tape thing I

can understand, but..."

The Doctor tapped his foot for attention. „If you could make

a stone tape - a recording or imprint, rather, of a person"s

mind - then you could play it back. Perhaps you could record

over it later, wiping it out. But what if you wanted to keep it

but change it a little, hmm? What if you could program it to

do some things the way you want them done?"

Vicki frowned. „Then it wouldn"t be so much a stone tape as

a stone application or a stone executable file. A building full

of them could be a stone matrix. But how could you program

it or edit it?"

„That would depend on where you are in relation to your

stone application."

Ian was still trying to understand all this futuristic ter-

minology. „So what you"re saying is that some intelligence

persuaded the First Emperor to imprint his and his men"s

consciousness into a stone tape recording, which this

controlling force could then reprogram to do its bidding?"

„Yes, Chesterton, that is precisely what I am stating."

„Then who or what is behind this?"

„Some alien force that has no physical presence, but is

capable of making use of the forces inherent in the fabric of

the universe to reach out and program local proxies on

worlds it wishes to control."

„What forces inherent in the fabric of the universe?"

„Alignments in gravitational fields, perhaps. Much as you

might wait for the wind to drop before shouting from one roof

top to another, the alignments and conjunctions of stars and

planets allow some beings to make their influence felt at

certain times."

„And that"s why they waited two thousand years before

starting up their reprogrammed army? Because they needed

the conditions to be right in order for them to be heard?"

„Yes," the Doctor said darkly. „The stars must be right."

5

Ian stood in the store room where Vicki had said she and

Barbara were held prisoner. He told himself he was looking

for signs of what had happened to Barbara - blood, if the

worst had come to the worst. In reality he was doing his best

not to look at all. He didn"t want to see blood, or a body, or

anything other than her smiling when she saw him.

The fact that the abbot, whether possessed or otherwise,

had taken her with him suggested there was still a window in

which Ian was expected to kill Major Chesterton.

He had never thought he could do something like that. Not

in cold blood. He had killed during his time travelling with

the Doctor and Barbara, but he had never set out with that

intention, and never done so when losing his own life wasn"t

the only alternative. Cold-blooded killing was a different

matter entirely.

Taking a life for selfish reasons was possibly the worst

thing Ian could imagine. At Sunday School he had been

taught the Ten Commandments and, although he wasn"t par-

ticularly religious as an adult, he still tried to hold on to

those core values which seemed common to almost all races

and cultures.

He had also been taught that suicide was a sin as bad as

murder, because you were murdering yourself. He doubted

that Father Michael ever could have imagined a situation in

which this could be so literally the case.

Was it murder to kill an older version of yourself when you

would still be alive? Was it suicide? Or was it some weird

mixture of both and neither? Ian didn"t know, but he was

sure Father Michael would have disapproved.

Father Michael by definition wouldn"t have had a wife to

live for, kill for and die for. Barbara might not share his name

or wear his ring, but he knew their hearts had wed long ago

and were just waiting for their minds to catch up.

Would he kill for Barbara? Yes, to protect her life. He would

die for her too, he knew that. Major Chesterton was himself,

which meant that he, too, would die for Barbara. Ian just

wished he didn"t have to be the one to make the choice for

him. Not that anyone else could. They were one person, and

only one person could make such a choice.

Ian backed out of the store room and found his way out of

the monastery. The moon was setting in the west. Not on the

British Empire - the sun would set on that in the coming

century - but the ancient Greek huntress was setting on one

man who was two.

Sticking to the shadows, as if in a dream, Ian set off for the

docks.

Vicki woke early and went to look for breakfast. A boat from

Xamian had been promised, bearing supplies. She hoped it

had arrived. She passed the room Ian had been given at the

monastery and saw that it was empty, the door open.

Vicki wasn"t surprised at this. With Barbara in the hands

of a madman - or worse - it would be a wonder if Ian could

get a wink of sleep. He was probably already at breakfast,

swapping stories with the soldiers who were delivering the

supplies.

He wasn"t. In fact, he wasn"t anywhere in the monastery.

Vicki was beginning to worry that some of their enemies had

remained behind as guerrillas or terrorists. She half expected

a sword-wielding assassin with glowing eyes to jump out at

her at any moment. The only person she did bump into,

however, was Fei-Hung. He was going through his morning

jiao shi next to a scorched and blackened tree as the sun

rose.

„Have you seen Ian?" she asked.

„No, but I am worried about him."

„He seems fine to me," Vicki said. „All his injuries have

healed."

Fei-Hung shook his head. „He has a mix of practicality,

compassion and courage that is enviable and dangerous. He

reminds me of myself, in many ways."

„You mean he won"t leave anyone behind? He doesn"t want

to fight, but he won"t back down if he"s forced...?"

Fei-Hung nodded.

„Also... if I were him I would do anything to rescue the

woman I love. Even if it meant dying or killing. And, I think

that if he were me he would do the same thing."

A terrible suspicion began to dawn on Vicki. „You mean...?"

„I mean he isn"t in his room, no-one has seen him since

before sunrise and the boat that delivered the supplies from

Xamian has already left. I don"t know whether he was on it,

but if I were him I would be oh my way to kill the major."

„Oh no!" Vicki ran back into the monastery. She had to tell

the Doctor about this, and she was sure he would come to

the same conclusion as Fei-Hung. It was a conclusion Vicki

didn"t want to believe, but did.

The Doctor was examining scorch marks on the wall of the

main hall, while Logan, who had arrived with the food

supplies and bedding, looked on.

„Gunshots?" Logan asked.

„No, I think some kind of projected electrical plasma."

„I"ve never heard of such a weapon."

„If young Wong is to be believed, there was no weapon. And,

as it happens, I do believe him."

„But then how - ?"

Before the Doctor could answer, Vicki called out to him.

„Doctor!"

„What is it, child? Can"t you see I"m busy?"

It"s about Ian. He"s gone. I think he"s gone to kill the other

Ian. I mean, Major Chesterton."

The Doctor gasped. „He mustn"t. If the two Ians should

meet, there would be the most terrible explo-"

„Ian?" Logan shook his head. „The major"s name isn"t Ian."

The Doctor and Vicki both froze. „What did you say?" the

Doctor asked hoarsely.

„The major"s name isn"t Ian. It"s William. Major William

Chesterton, of the First Light Hussars."

„Are you certain of that?"

„As certain as I can be, and I"ve known him since he was

twenty and under my father"s command."

„Captain, we must get to Xamian Island at once."

„The boat will have gone back already."

„Then we must use the junk. Or Ian Chesterton will make a

terrible, terrible mistake!"

Ian walked on to the parade ground in the heart of the

fortress at Xamian. He didn"t feel his footsteps hit the

ground, and felt as if he was floating. All a product of

adrenaline or something, he supposed.

A couple of soldiers in grey shirts, sans uniform tunics,

were whitewashing the perimeter of small stones around the

parade ground. Ian suppressed a smile. In... what?... ninety

years? ...he"d be doing the exact same thing in Wales. What

was it the French said? The more things changed, the more

they stayed the same. Technologies, policies and attitudes

may change, he thought, but the British army would for ever

run on the motto, „If it moves, shoot it; if it doesn"t move,

paint it white."

He wondered if these men were conscripts, as he had been

in his National Service days, or volunteers. For all Ian knew

they still press-ganged people in 1865. He reflected that his

knowledge of army history wasn"t up to much. He should ask

Barbara, he thought, and then shivered.

„Major Chesterton," a voice called. Ian froze, struck with the

fear that his other self was about to stumble upon him. True,

he wanted to meet the major, but on his own terms. He

wanted to see him coming.

The call came again and Ian looked around for the source.

A soldier was coming across the parade ground holding a

bundle. „Excuse me, sir," the man said with a salute. „Sorry,

sir! Didn"t recognise you without your moustache, sir."

„That"s all right," Ian told the man. „Life is all about change,

isn"t it?" He forced a smile he didn"t feel. „What can I do for

you, Private?"

„Oh, sorry again, sir. For the delay, I mean."

He held out the bundle he was carrying. Ian took it, and

found that it was heavy. It was a leather belt, wrapped

around a leather holster that contained a pistol that weighed

almost as much as Ian"s heart.

„Quartermaster says it"s as good as new, sir."

Ian forced something he hoped resembled a smile. „Of

course he does. Thank you, Private. Dismissed."

The soldier left just in time, as Major Chesterton emerged

from a door twenty yards behind him.

The pistol felt heavy in Ian"s hands as he walked towards

his other self. He registered that people were looking at him,

and speaking or shouting. They were like reflections in a

fairground hall of mirrors - distorted and silent, fading out of

his peripheral vision as he came closer to the major.

There was sound - voices, in the main - but it floated past

him like the breeze. His older self, turning, surprised, as Ian

raised the gun.

Their eyes locked and Ian saw understanding there of what

was about to pass between them. He knew he shouldn"t be

surprised as his older self must surely have remembered this

moment when it had been he who pulled the trigger.

Where was Barbara in Major Chesterton"s life? Had they

parted, amicably or otherwise? Had Ian"s older self become

separated from the others and left behind? Was an older

Barbara still travelling through time and space, yearning to

return to where the Ship had left him?

Or had Gao not kept his word to release her? Would she

follow his older self into death today, killed by a captor who

had no further use for her?

Not knowing the answers to any of these questions, Ian

fired once, then again and again. Major Chesterton crumpled,

his ankle turning under him, and crashed to the ground.

CHAPTER SIX

Last Hero in China

l

It was like stepping through a doorway. One moment they

had been in the terraced garden outside the old monastery,

and suddenly Barbara and Qin were standing on a dark,

rain-soaked hillside, overlooking a vast temporary camp that

would have put the preparations for D-Day to shame.

A city of yurts and tents was spread across broad, dusty

fields on every side. Wooden cabins and huts clustered

around the base of the hill. Some had simple iron chimneys

burping out foul, black smoke. The doom-laden thump of

mechanical workings rolled up the hill towards them.

Guards were patrolling everywhere, and troops were drilling

in the open spaces left between the blocks of tents. Civilians

were hard at work, fetching and carrying. Some wore the

robes of monks, and Barbara fancied that she now knew

what had happened to the population of the town she had

been in previously.

The hill itself seemed to be square, with relatively straight

sides rising to the summit. It was more like a squat pyramid,

Barbara thought, than a natural hill. It squatted against the

fields like a limpet or barnacle on a ship"s hull, parasitically

holding on to the land.

Then Barbara felt a pressure behind her ears, and the

world around her disappeared again.

She woke up retching, with no idea how much time had

passed. She was in a small, stone room. There were no win-

dows, but the door was open and led out into a stone

corridor. An oil lamp just outside the door cast a dim,

honeyed light into the room. There was very little dust and

the air was thick and heavy, having been trapped for a length

of time that Barbara could only guess at, but which she

suspected would be measured in centuries.

The abbot, or Qin, was watching her as she got groggily to

her feet. „Welcome back, woman," he said. He didn"t seem

angry any more.

„Where are we?"

„In my mausoleum."

There were painted friezes on the walls depicting hunting

scenes, parades and caravans travelling through mushroom-

shaped mountains. At the centre of every scene was a large

man who carried a paunch ahead of him like a prow. He was

wearing quilted robes and a sort of wide cummerbund. On

his head was a kind of mortarboard with a row of tassels at

the front and back. He might almost be a comical figure,

Barbara thought, except for the face.

It was a face that could adorn the posters in Orwell"s

Nineteen Eighty-Four, or give Stalin nightmares. Fierce, burn-

ing eyes looked out from a proud snarl and a Rasputinesque

beard. It was the face of a man who knew he had the power

of life and death over everyone he could ever meet, and could

not imagine living any other way.

Barbara"s gaze followed the abbot"s as he noticed the

friezes. He reached out a hand to touch the painted face, and

put the other to his own cheek.

„This is..."

„You, I suppose," Barbara said. „Qin Shi Huangdi."

„So you accept the truth? That is good. I may yet let you

live."

He seemed to be struggling with the words, and she got the

feeling he was trying to justify something to himself.

„In any case, your friend Ian did what he was told. Gao

reports that he shot Major Chesterton, and so nipped in the

bud any coalition to move against me. He will be hanged, of

course. He is now a murderer, after all."

„I don"t believe it! Ian wouldn"t harm anyone!"

„Would you harm someone to save the life of someone you

loved?"

She didn"t answer. She didn"t have to.

„So would he. And I have kept my word and spared your

life."

„Why?" She didn"t know much about the First Emperor, but

she knew he was supposed to be vengeful and sadistic. „Why

keep me alive instead of killing me?"

He turned away, refusing to meet her eyes, and she

realised the truth.

„I said maybe you were out-possessed..." She tried to meet

his eyes, but he avoided her. „You can"t kill me, can you?

That other creature, the one that"s inside you, has other

plans, and it won"t let you kill me!"

„Nonsense!" He slapped her. „I do as I please."

He dragged her out into the corridor. Oil lamps were

burning at regular intervals, and the darkness above them

had a weight that made Barbara uncomfortable. She

wondered if there was a whole mountain over her head,

threatening to crash down on her at any moment. Set into

the wall at the end of the corridor was a plain, undecorated

slab. A ramp of desiccated skeletons climbed halfway up it,

their twig-like fingers reaching out for the freedom that was

separated from them by the stone.

Leathery skin was shrink-wrapped around their bones,

bearded with patches of fungus that had dried to dust

centuries ago. They looked as if they had simply grown older

and more decrepit with the passing of centuries, and had

eventually forgotten to die and rot.

„Who were they?"

Qin didn"t spare the skeletons a glance. „Labourers,

masons, painters. People who could not be trusted to keep

what they had seen to themselves." He compared his own

hand to one of those that had been mummified by the sealed-

in air. „They were supposed to serve me in heaven, until my

return." He dropped the hand he"d been holding and kicked

its owner, who exploded into choking dust. „They didn"t."

He passed by the ramp and led Barbara into a larger

chamber.

Several sarcophagi lay in the darkness sealed with heavy,

stone lids. Despite her fear, Barbara couldn"t resist looking at

the carvings on the sides. This was an opportunity that could

never come again. She knew she was inside the tomb of the

First Emperor, and she also knew it had never been

discovered by archaeologists or historians. Not in her time,

anyway.

The carvings on the sarcophagi showed loving, romantic

scenes of courting, and couples holding hands.

„Your wives... or mistresses?"

„Concubines," Qin said. He stroked the top of the nearest

sarcophagus. „I had forgotten these…"

He stopped to look at the sarcophagus and his hands

moved towards its lid as if he wanted to remove it. His hands

fell, and Barbara was relieved. All that could be inside -

hopefully - would be another desiccated mummy, or an ivory

skeleton, or simply a layer of dust. None of these would be

the best way to remember a wife or lover. If it was her, she

decided, she would rather not see what was inside, and

remember her lover as he had been the last time they made

love.

„The ones who didn"t bear me sons," he muttered.

„Strangled."

Barbara"s pang of sympathy for him died quickly; more

quickly than the poor women in the sarcophagi had. „That

was their punishment, was it?" she demanded, putting every

particle of disgust that she could into her voice.

„Punishment? No!" Qin caressed the top of the sarcophagus

again. „A son is an heir and needs his mother. The others... I

was to love them for ever, in heaven. They would spend

eternity with the one who loved them more than anyone

could." A shadow cloaked his features. „They didn"t. They will

be courtesans in heaven, but I remain here, to look after my

empire and its people."

Sadness had replaced the earlier anger in his voice. He

might be an alien, or a spirit possessing the living, or both,

but Barbara knew he was desperately unstable.

„If this is the tomb of Qin Shi Huangdi, it"s been lost for two

thousand years."

„Not to me."

„What I mean is, these oil lamps are quite small. How come

they"re still burning?"

„We are not alone here. Four of my captains are on duty."

As if called, a shadow appeared on the wall. It was massive

and bulky, and Barbara realised it was one of the hooded

figures who had abducted her and Vicki from Po Chi Lam.

The figure stepped into the light, and Barbara saw it clearly

for the first time. She couldn"t believe her eyes. It was a

phrase she had long thought a cliché, but now it was literally

true and her mind tried to turn away from the image. It was

repulsed, as a magnetic pole is repulsed by a like pole.

„It"s impossible," she breathed, already feeling her voice lose

control.

„No, it isn"t. And soon you and all the gwailos in China will

be seeing a lot more of them. A lot."

Barbara finally screamed.

Ian Chesterton was slumped in the major"s office, a guard on

duty outside. He didn"t know why they hadn"t put him in a

cell, or even why they hadn"t simply hanged him once they

had tackled him to the ground next to the major"s body. He

didn"t particularly care, either. He was a murderer and if they

hanged him for it, well, at least he had done his best for

Barbara.

He noticed a photograph on the wall, and was momentarily

surprised. He wasn"t sure when photography had been

invented. The picture had a caption identifying the men as

members of a Hussar company at Jaipur, five years ago.

Everyone wore old-fashioned uniforms with lots of braid

and, after a moment, he recognised a face on the far left of

the picture. It was the one he had looked into when he pulled

the pistol"s trigger. The one he had seen in the mirror last

time he shaved.

„India, in 1860? So we don"t come here again," he muttered

to himself. It was a strange feeling to know one"s future, he

thought. The phrase „someone walking over my grave" just

didn"t do it justice. It was a feeling of awe at the complexity of

fate, and fear at the knowledge of one"s own doom, and

comfort at there being even one certainty in life, all combined

to create a heaviness in the veins and a sluggishness in the

mind.

He didn"t know whether to laugh or cry, or just keep

praying that Barbara was, and would remain, alive and

healthy.

„So," a familiar voice said. „You"re the Chesterton I"d heard

so much about."

It was none other than Major Chesterton, alive and without

so much as a bloodstain on his shirt. He was wiping some

parade-ground dirt off his cheek.

„You"re still alive?"

Chesterton nodded. „I do so hope you"re not offended. You

got that gun from a private who thought you were me, didn"t

you?’

Ian nodded, dumbfounded. He didn"t know whether to be

delighted or horrified that things had gone so differently from

the way he had intended. How would this affect Barbara"s

chances of survival? That was all that mattered. If someone

had asked Ian to imagine this situation, he would have said

he would want to find the kidnappers and make them pay.

He was surprised, and felt helpless, to discover that he didn"t

give a fig about them. He just wanted to see Barbara once

again, and hear her voice and know that she was all right.

„I"d have done the same," Chesterton admitted.

Ian managed a thin, humourless smile. „I know."

„The gun was loaded with blanks. Not even much powder in

them, in case you came too close. Just enough to make a

noise."

Chesterton sat down opposite Ian, and the pair spent a

moment just looking at each other.

„I would die for Barbara," Ian said. „As a matter of fact I

almost have, several times. You would too."

„I daresay I would, if I"d ever met the lady in question."

„You can"t mean that," Ian exclaimed. „I... You don"t even

remember Barbara?"

„Keep your voice down, dammit," the major hissed. He

looked round as if expecting to see all his troops listening at

the door. „I don"t remember much of anything before this

week," he admitted. He fingered the bump on the back of his

head, and wondered how much he could trust this man.

„I know I shouldn"t tell anyone this, but I feel I can trust

you. I wish I knew why."

I could tell you, but I doubt you"d believe it," Ian muttered.

„I took a fall from my horse. It did something to my

memory. I love my life in the Hussars, Ian. I"d never want to

do anything else, but if word got out that I"d gone doolally I"d

be back to Blighty before you could say... anything, really."

„But maybe the Doctor can help you recover our - your -

memory."

„The Doctor most certainly can," came another voice from

the door.

It was the Doctor, of course, and Ian almost leapt out of his

chair in delight.

„You"ve been a complete idiot, Ches- Ian. Complete and

total!" The Doctor waggled a finger at Ian as if he had been

scrumping apples. „If I hadn"t got here first, you"d have been

a murderer."

Ian"s mind reeled. „But if you got here first, why didn"t you

say something? Why the charade with the gun and the

blanks?"

„Because young Master Wong - Fei-Hung - spotted that

man Gao watching, and we decided to put on a

disinformative show for him and his master."

Ian slumped, and started to shake as all the adrenaline

and tension drained away. „What about Barbara?"

„I know where that abbot fellow is. We shall be dealing with

him next, once we"ve decided who is to be doing what."

„We?"

„Myself, Master Wong, the other Tigers and the major. We

shall have a sort of council of war within the hour. In fact,

just as soon as Major Chesterton here collects the remedy

Master Wong has been preparing for him to sort out this

memory problem."

He looked pointedly at the major, who shrugged submis-

sively. „I"ll go now," he said, and did so, leaving the Doctor

and Ian alone.

„I"m rather afraid that the major there... well... He"s not

you," the Doctor said more quietly. „I was wrong, Chesterton,

about your future impinging on your past."

„You were wrong?" Ian wondered who the hell he had nearly

killed.

„His name is Major William Chesterton."

„Bill Chesterton? But that was my great-grandfather"s

name-"

„Exactly. And that is exactly who this man is."

Ian shivered and his hands trembled. „You mean I nearly…"

„Yes."

What Ian said next, he would have been sacked for saying

in front of his class at Coal Hill School.

2

The „council of war" was taking place in the officers" mess. A

circle of reasonably comfortable armchairs had been pulled

around a large circular table stained with rings from years of

mugs of tea and flagons of beer.

Kei-Ying, Three-Legged Tham, Beggar Soh and Iron Bridge

Three were huddled together, speaking rapidly. Logan

watched them suspiciously. The Doctor was using pint pots

to hold down the corners of a map on the table.

The two Chestertons arrived together. The major was begin-

ning to realise that this chap Ian wasn"t so bad after all,

though the resemblance between them was disturbing. He

was unable to express his wonderment in mere words.

„Upon my soul... I never imagined such a likeness was pos-

sible. Who are you, exactly?"

„My name"s Ian."

„Yes, I heard that. Can"t say I"ve heard of an Ian in the

family."

„I"m a rather distant relative, a couple of times removed."

„Ah." Now the major understood. „You must be one of Aunt

Mary"s boys. Though you"ve done a good job of hiding the

accent..."

„Thanks," Ian said, then quickly changed the subject. „It

looks like everyone"s ready for us."

„Yes." The major saw Logan salute, and returned the

gesture. The captain looked as though he"d been through a

nervous breakdown, though Chesterton couldn"t imagine

why. Shocked by the security breach of Ian being able to

wander into the garrison like that, he supposed.

Beggar Soh looked up from the other Tigers and rubbed his

hands with glee. „Ah, there you are. As occupying powers go,

you"re not really doing much with your vassal country, are

you?"

„What do you mean?"

„I mean you"ve got your own laws here in the city, as if the

Chinese didn"t have good enough ones, and outside there

seems to be no law at all."

Ian"s attention drifted away from the conversation and he

saw Fei-Hung sitting quietly behind his father. He realised he

hadn"t been able to ask the young master what had

happened when he went looking for Barbara at the

monastery.

He slid around the edge of the circle and reached Fei-Hung.

„Thank you," he said first, „for all you"ve done."

„It was the right thing to do."

„Yes, it was. I sometimes wish more people in the world had

your attitude. Look, I wanted to ask you: when you went to

look for Barbara at the monastery, you didn"t see her at all?"

Fei-Hung shook his head. „I"m sorry, Ian. Neither she nor

the abbot, Qin, were there. They must have left before I

arrived."

„Yes, but how?"

„Perhaps the same way this “General Gao” left."

This got the Doctor"s attention. „And how was that?" he

asked.

„Magic."

The Doctor glared at him over the top of his pince-nez.

„Nonsense, my boy."

„I am no liar, Doctor. He waved his hand and cut a fiery

hole in the air. I could see another place through it, and then

he stepped through."

„And the hole?"

„Closed up after him."

The whole story sounded preposterous to Ian, but Fei-Hung

seemed earnest enough, and had proved an honest and reli-

able witness so far. Ian also had to ask himself whether the

story was really any stranger than a police box that could

disappear, and travel anywhere in time and space.

„There are more things in heaven and earth," he muttered to

himself under his breath.

The Doctor didn"t notice his comment. He simply tapped a

forefinger on the map. „We know where he"s going, but that

would give him a terrible advantage in speed…"

Kei-Ying had been listening to his son"s conversation with

one ear and to his fellow Tigers with the other. He caught the

Doctor"s eye, and both men looked from Ian to each other.

Kei-Ying drew the Doctor aside. „You"re worried about her

too."

The Doctor nodded. „She is a friend, yes, as is Ian. I fear

that to lose one of them would be to lose the other."

„If you"ll pardon my saying, Doctor-sifu, you look like one

who has lost someone close already."

„I was thinking about my granddaughter. She left me

recently, you see."

Kei-Ying nodded understandingly. „She"s back in England?

In London?"

„Yes, yes, in a manner of speaking. She chose to stay

behind."

The Doctor"s eyes became unfocused, as if he was looking

at something - or someone - impossibly far away. He fell

silent for a moment and Kei-Ying fancied he could feel

something of what the Doctor must be feeling. Fei-Hung

would set up his own school and surgery some day, gods

willing, and Kei-Ying could see himself wearing that

expression when he did.

„She just didn"t realise," the Doctor continued, „or perhaps I

should say understand, that she had made that decision."

„Your granddaughter... Do you have sons, Doctor? Or

daughters? Or both?"

The Doctor seemed surprised by the question. „Yes, hmm, I

suppose you could put it that way. Sons or daughters, or

both, yes."

„Then we must make sure this threat doesn"t last to

threaten our sons or daughters."

„I quite agree. The conjunction I spoke of before will begin

at the moment of totality as seen from Xi"an."

„And when will that be?"

„At exactly eight minutes past midnight. And, whatever

happens, we must be there to stop Qin - or whatever is

behind him - from exploiting it."

„How?"

The Doctor didn"t answer. Kei-Ying searched his face,

knowing in his gut the only answer the Doctor could have in

mind. The Doctor"s eyes remained level and determined,

indomitable.

„What exactly is it that you"re expecting, Doctor? Men from

Mars to land?"

„Whatever our opponent is, it comes from much further

away than Mars. The other end of the line of focus formed by

the conjunction is millions of times further away."

Iron Bridge Three sniffed slightly. „Yes, well obviously we

have to worry about the troops as well as this conjunction

thing."

„Troops?"

„This man Qin, or whatever he"s calling himself, isn"t just

relying on those two generals and help from the hells. No, he

has a large number of living troops and we"ll have to deal

with them."

„Won"t they be at Chang"an?" Ian asked.

Almost everyone at the table shook their heads as one. The

major answered. „What"s the point in taking towns and

villages if all his troops are already in one place? He must

have left them scattered along the line from Chang"an to

here."

„But the town we found was abandoned."

„Because it will have been taken by his own personal staff.

They go where he goes. They"ll be in Chang"an with him, but

most of the Black Flag members and whatever other thugs

he"s persuaded - no offence to our guests - will be scattered

around."

„If we can stop him exploiting the conjunction," the Doctor

said, „nothing will happen in those towns, and Qin"s followers

will simply drift away."

„And if we can"t, a civil war," Kei-Ying said gloomily.

„I"m afraid so."

„Then we must be prepared for both eventualities,"

Chesterton said. „We need forces to be ready at those places

where we know there are Qin loyalists, and another group to

go after Qin himself."

„The men who follow him were formerly Black Flag mem-

bers," Kei-Ying said. „I find it a vile idea to face Black Flag

against Black Flag, but it is an internal Chinese matter and

an internal Black Flag matter." He looked around the table, a

faint smile playing across his features. „I suggest that the

Tigers take militia troops on manoeuvres near the places

where Qin has forces."

„Agreed," the Doctor said. „In fact, the very suggestion I

myself was about to make. Meanwhile, I shall go to find a

way to prevent Qin"s plans from succeeding, and to rescue

my friend Barbara."

„Me too," Ian said.

„And me," Vicki piped up.

Fei-Hung looked to his father, who nodded. „We will go with

you, Doctor."

„So will I," Major Chesterton said finally. „Logan, I"ll want a

platoon of volunteers."

3

Vicki, Ian and the Doctor remained in the officers" mess when

the others dispersed.

„Doctor," Ian asked, „how exactly are we supposed to get to

Chang"an? It"s hundreds of miles away

„- and we must be there tonight, yes." The Doctor"s face was

troubled, his tone tired.

Vicki was about to suggest that they fly, but held her

tongue. She wasn"t sure whether powered flight had been

invented yet, and had already embarrassed herself enough by

getting things wrong.

She caught Ian"s eyes, and mimed an aeroplane movement

with her hand, behind the Doctor"s back. Ian smiled and

shook his head, then mouthed „1903".

„We can"t exactly use the TARDIS," Ian said aloud.

„No. I rather think we must use our enemy"s own energies

against it, just as I did with that ruffian Jiang."

„But what energy?"

„Some kind of plasma-based helix. I suspect, you know,

that the supernatural occurrences people have reported are

signs of leakage or corruption from the energy that has

already been sent to control Qin and his Generals."

„Perhaps we can find a way to hijack it?" Vicki suggested.

„Sort of, hack into it or pirate it."

Ian snapped his fingers. „What about the monk? The one

who was Zhao? Surely he had the same ability as the other

one?"

„Yes, yes, of course, but he hasn"t now, has he?"

„No, but could he have, if you accessed those - what did

you call them - secondary memories?"

The Doctor brightened immediately. „I really have no idea,"

he admitted, „but it must be worth trying!"

Outside the hill where Barbara and Qin had arrived earlier,

exhausted civilians were preparing ramps up out of the

earth, and carrying stacks of new swords and rifles to racks

that filled long wooden cabins.

Gao, his eyeless sockets glowing, walked among the

workers, his head swinging from side to side. The workers

had done well, producing new weapons for the army that

would soon be reborn.

A few minutes after Gao had passed, a ring of electricity

pulled back from a point a few feet above the ground. Major

Chesterton came through first, quickly followed by Logan,

Ian, the Wongs, the Doctor, Vicki, and a platoon of armed

men led by Anderson.

The fiery gateway closed behind them.

As soon as he saw the hill, the Doctor sucked air in

through his teeth. „That will be the receiving point for the

energy. We must get inside. The main entrance seems to have

been excavated, but it will be guarded."

„We could use Cheng"s cave," Kei-Ying suggested. „It must

be in this hill, if this is where it all started."

„That will be for you to do," the Doctor said. „I rather think

it"s time I met this Qin Shi Huangdi."

„You can"t be serious," Ian protested. „He"ll kill you, or at

least take you prisoner."

„Yes, Chesterfield, he might. But sometimes we must face

up to such dangers, mustn"t we? Besides which I have a

feeling that if he has kept Barbara alive to make her an offer,

as Vicki told us, he might make me the same one."

„He tried to have Jiang kill you."

„Then I imagine it means these great celestial intelligences

are not so infallible, hmm? You see there"s always a bright

side." The cheerful smile froze on his face. „Vicki, Chesterton,

I"ve been such a foolish old goat!"

„No," Vicki protested, „that"s impossible, and you know it."

„I"ve been thinking - we all have - that this Qin of yours

must have a military reason for coming south."

„Well, he is a warlord, and he must be a successful one if

he really was the emperor."

„A military man would be looking for resources," the Doctor

explained, „seeking to get things for himself and deny them to

the enemy. He would be looking for targets he could take and

hold."

„So?" Vicki asked.

„So Qin hasn"t done that."

„But he"s taken dozens of places. Just look at the map."

„That"s just what I have done, child. Looked, really looked,

at the map. And the places he has been taking are all old

places. Places with ancient temples and geological faults.

Places where energy could be distributed or stored in the

rock, and in the buildings."

„Stone tapes?" Vicki thought she could see where the

Doctor"s mind was going. „Stone tapes, and energy being

transmitted here via the conjunction…"

„Exactly. He hasn"t been trying to take over China, he has

been -"

„Formatting a disk!"

„Yes!"

„But he seemed pretty certain of what he wanted to do -

reclaim the empire he used to have."

„I believe you, child," the Doctor said, patting her hair in a

kindly way. „And I think my mind is open on the matter of

whether he believes it too. Or if he even knows why he is

really doing what he"s doing."

„How could he not know?"

„Didn"t you say that he harped on about gaps in his

memory, and that he wasn"t all there, if you"ll pardon the

expression?"

„Yes," Vicki"s hand darted to her mouth as she suddenly felt

sick at the thought that had crossed her mind. „You mean

there"s something else in those gaps?"

„Nature abhors a vacuum, young lady. Yes, I think perhaps

there is."

Vicki tried to imagine what it must be like, sharing a brain

with an alien something that was there in place of part of

your memories - in place of part of what made you you. Then

she wished she hadn"t.

„And that"s what was in charge when that light was shining

out of his eyes," she said.

The Doctor nodded solemnly. „In Qin, and in his generals."

Ian had been thinking about this business of energy

distribution as the time travellers and their companions

made their way around the workings on the brooding hill.

„Doctor, you say they"re trying to distribute energy around

China, like a giant circuit."

„In a way, yes, but to distribute such energies," the Doctor

said, „the circuitry must be exactly right."

„Can"t we break the circuit somehow? Make it incapable of

carrying this power?"

„We must try! The engineering of this structure is very

precise - it would have to be, to do what it"s doing. Perhaps if

we could introduce some kind of imbalance...?"

„Doctor, you said that the materials of the place itself carry

a charge - piezoelectricity. Could we break that? Introduce a

new fault line, maybe?"

„With explosives? Yes, my boy, we could. We need only

introduce a few cracks -"

„Can"t be done," Major Chesterton said. „We don"t have

enough dynamite for that."

„Just a minute," Ian interrupted. „We know from what Fei-

Hung told us about the monk that this power is electrical in

some way."

„Yes, yes, don"t waste our time stating the obvious."

„I was just thinking, Doctor, that if it"s electrical perhaps we

can short it out to earth. There must be water around here

somewhere."

„Water?" The Doctor"s face took on a calculating expression

that would have done justice to Machiavelli or Sun Tzu.

Kei-Ying shook his head. „Cheng said the whole complex is

bone dry, Ian. There"s not the slightest trace of dampness."

„What"s more," the Doctor added, „this place was built for

the transposition of this energy. Whoever designed it was not

a fool. They will have ensured that it"s protected against

anything that could short-circuit it."

Ian nodded placatingly. „I understand that, and I suppose it

will be pretty well protected if the builders did their job right.

The fact of there having been builders also guarantees that

there must have been accessible water somewhere."

„How so?"

Ian almost laughed. Despite all that threatened them, he

found he could enjoy the sensation of seeing something the

Doctor didn"t. „Well, they were men, weren"t they? Ordinary

human beings. Even if they were enslaved they would still

have to have been fed and watered, wouldn"t they? To say

nothing of the complex itself needing a local water supply. So

there must be wells in the vicinity."

The Doctor looked at him, a smile spreading across his

face. „You"re absolutely right, young man. There must have

been." He tapped Ian on the chest. „You know, I think this

must be why I enjoy the company of you young fellows.

You"re just the right people to see the simple solutions."

„Thanks, I think."

Kei-Ying still looked and sounded doubtful. „Surely any

sources of water will have been sealed off by now if there"s a

danger?"

„Whatever has been sealed can always be unsealed,

especially with dynamite," Ian pointed out. „Besides, maybe

our friend the emperor, or his muse from outer space, is at

least as sophisticated as the Doctor here and has overlooked

the simple solution." He flexed his fists. „I get the feeling that

we might well be able to turn things around."

The Doctor gazed at the group like a teacher surveying his

class before they graduated. „We will split up when we reach

the hill. Major, you and Kei-Ying will take everyone through

the cave Cheng used before. Try to find a way to get at the

water table, and breach it. We should try to flood the tomb if

we can. I will go to the main entrance and confront this

despicable abbot." He held up a hand to silence any potential

protestations. „Now, I will not have my mind changed."

Under cover of the gathering darkness, the group darted

between huts and past piles of excavated earth until they

reached a deep crater that had been dug into the side of the

hill.

„I don"t like this," Major Chesterton said nervously. „It"s been

too easy."

„Shush," the Doctor hissed. „Never look a gift horse in the

mouth."

„Doctor," Ian said slowly. „Look up there."

Everyone looked up at the sky. The heavens were parting,

spinning back from a central point above the hill top like an

iris expanding. Then, through the widened eye of the storm, a

blinding shaft of light stabbed down at the hill.

The sky split and the air screamed.

Logan winced at the screech. „What the hell is that?"

„Hell is right," Fei-Hung said, stunned and slack-jawed. „The

gates of hell are opening! The hungry ghosts are coming to

feed!"

„Nonsense!" the Doctor snapped. „What you"re hearing is the

sound of electrons being stripped from molecules of air."

„Like plasma, you mean?" Ian asked. „Lightning?"

The Doctor spoke in a deep voice, almost as if he was

enjoying being a doom-sayer. „No, Chesterton. Chestertons,"

he corrected himself. „The energies being transmitted across

the conjunction are far beyond that."

„You mean this has come from some other world?"

„Not necessarily. From another part of the universe, yes,

but there"s no need to assume that the beings who sent it are

corporeal or that they live on a solid planet. We just don"t

know."

„But you said this wouldn"t happen until after midnight!"

The Doctor paled. „I forgot to take the changeover from the

Julian to Gregorian calendar into account!"

Below, Barbara looked at Qin in horror as the whole mau-

soleum shook. She had a sudden premonition that she would

be buried alive in here and never get out.

Qin was having a different reaction. He was laughing.

Around him, the friezes brightened into life. The colours were

deep and vibrant, painted textures almost tangible. Barbara

could all but hear the splashing of the painted rivers, the

sounds of the beasts in the undergrowth and the incessant

crunching of marching feet in the processions depicted on

the walls.

Soft lightning washed across the images, the tendrils of

energy spiralling around each other in helixes of fire. Ghostly

images of fallen walls filled in the gaps as if they were Kirlian

photographs, then solidified as the walls renewed themselves.

„At last," Qin shouted to the ceiling, „I am truly immortal!"

4

The Doctor walked calmly towards the main entrance that

had been excavated from the side of the hill. There was a

ramp leading down to the main doors, and a tiger was embla-

zoned on one door and a five-clawed imperial dragon on the

other.

The Doctor rapped sharply on the dragon"s nose with his

cane. The door opened slowly to reveal a handful of guards

and the mangled, half-melted face of General Gao. His eye-

sockets glowed.

„Traveller," Gao said. „You should not have interfered."

„Traveller?"

„Do you not travel the stars, and journey through future

and past?"

The Doctor was instantly defensive and suspicious. „How

could you possibly have known that?"

„You are known to us," said Gao"s sonorous voice.

„Yes, so I gathered from my young friend Vicki."

„Why did you come to us?"

„I wanted to talk to you, and tell you that you can never

win."

„Come with Gao, Doctor, come and see who wins."

The cave was just as Cheng had described it. The group had

little difficulty finding it, and although there were people

nearby they were too busy running around like headless

chickens, panicking at the column of energy stabbing down

from the heavens, to bother about a few extra faces. Even

those in British army uniforms.

The Wongs, being most familiar with Cheng"s story, led

them down the narrow stairway at the back of the cave,

which bored down through the living rock.

Ian snorted. „If it wasn"t a hundred years too early, I"d say

this Qin had been reading too much Ian Fleming."

„What do you mean?" Vicki asked.

Well, I mean, he even has the old underground base just

like in the James Bond books."

„Weren"t you listening to the Doctor? This isn"t some sort of

underground base."

„But this complex -"

„It"s a mausoleum, Ian. A tomb. One of the old places the

Doctor was talking about. And it"s quite reasonable to expect

burials to be under the ground, isn"t it?"

„Yes, I suppose it is."

By this time they had emerged into a huge cavern at the

bottom of the stairs. Pillars the thickness of mighty oaks

soared into the darkness above.

„Look!" Kei-Ying pointed up at the ceiling. The jewels that

represented the stars were glowing and tiny serpents of light

were slithering between them. „What is that?"

„Look at the pattern," Ian said. „It"s forming some kind of

helix. This energy is being transmitted from somewhere else

to here for distribution."

„This is beyond me."

„Well, you cut irrigation ditches to bring water to fields in a

dry spell, don"t you? From a canal or a river?"

„Yes."

„But what if the canal or river dries up? Then no water gets

to the irrigation ditches. Or what if the canal isn"t there yet?

You"d have to build one, wouldn"t you?"

„But then, what does this energy irrigate?"

„Something that needs an astronomical amount of power,"

Ian told him. „I mean, literally astronomical."

In the distance, like a lighthouse on the far side of a forest,

Ian could see the flicker of a lamp. The soldiers fanned out

between the mineral-encrusted stone trees, as did the Wongs.

Ian realised there was wisdom in their actions, and he too

kept close to the columns just in case anyone - or anything -

nasty was waiting for them on the other side of the indoor

forest.

Their progress was painstakingly slow, and Ian tried to

resist the urge to rush forward. He could already feel his

fingernails digging into his palms with frustration, though he

hadn"t been conscious of even making a fist.

Fei-Hung appeared at his side. „Don"t worry, Ian. Qin must

have some plan for Barbara."

„That"s supposed to make me feel better?"

„Qin thinks he"s a fighter. If he simply wanted to kill

Barbara he would have either done it immediately, or when

you had shot the major and Qin had no more use for her."

„I suppose you"re right."

„It"s what I would have done."

Ian shivered. He shivered again when he looked towards

the source of the light. A stone doorway had been broken

down, making a hole through the wall. The faint smell of

ozone drifted through it, carried on grey air that felt and

tasted like the breath of the dead.

Two statues were near the door. They were life-sized

figures, and not of small men. Any colour they had been

decorated with was long gone, but their faces and the detail

of their armour were as realistic as they must have been

whenever the statues were made. Ian tried to remember how

long ago that must have been. Two thousand years, if they

were contemporaries of the First Emperor. They looked as if

they had been pulled from a high-tech mould yesterday. Not

just one mould, but two separate ones, he decided, as their

faces were individual and different.

Ian approached cautiously, hoping not to make a sound

that might alert any living men in the corridor beyond the

door. He held up a torch to examine the nearest statue more

closely. It wasn"t made of stone, but of some kind of pottery

clay. Terracotta, he decided. He could even see flecks of

ancient paint that hadn"t quite finished disintegrating into

the mists of time and memory.

As the flames danced around his torch, shadows passed

across the faces of the warriors. Their gaze seemed to move

with every flicker, their cheeks twitching, their lips curling.

Ian told himself to stop being so damned jumpy, that the

figures were only statues, their apparent life only the product

of shifting light and his overactive imagination. He could

almost have laughed; this same imagination had got him

reading Wells and Verne. From there it had encouraged him

to find out about other things, and so led him to teach

science. Now it was playing tricks on him. If only he could

give it detention for its cheek.

He looked quickly into the corridor, verifying that it was

empty, then beckoned to the others. Logan and Major

Chesterton rushed forward, surprisingly quietly, their

revolvers in their hands. The others followed and Ian brought

up the rear. They paused at the other end of the corridor,

which split off into a T-junction.

Ian thought he heard a sound behind him and turned. He

knew he had been the last one through the tunnel. Those

statues and that damned imagination again. He turned away.

A heavy footstep crunched behind him and he froze. „No, it

couldn"t be..." He looked back over his shoulder.

A sword in a dusty terracotta hand was raised over his

head. Ian ducked aside just in time as it slashed down. The

major and Logan immediately opened fire with their

revolvers, blasting little craters into the statue"s chest. It

continued to move forward, and the second statue was

following it into the tunnel.

Ian scrambled back and the whole party split at the junc-

tion. Logan, Fei-Hung and a few soldiers went to the left, and

Ian and the others to the right.

Right was wrong. After a few feet the corridor opened into a

long, narrow hall, and the hall was filled with warrior

statues. Tendrils of energy were twisting around its walls,

and the room was filled with the deafening sound of groaning

and the grinding of stone and dust. All around, the sound

accompanied movement. Baked clay arms hefted weapons.

Dust fell from sculpted faces as they formed their first new

expressions in over two millennia.

„It"s the Eight Thousand!" Kei-Ying exclaimed.

Ian shook his head. „I don"t think so. If the Doctor"s right,

these things must be templates, like the copies of Qin and

his generals" personae that took over those unfortunate

monks."

„Templates?" Vicki echoed. „You mean they"re like old-style

computer disks? The minds of the Eight Thousand were the

formatted media?"

„Yes, media for this other force to overwrite and replace.

Except that this time it"s got ready-made bodies, it doesn"t

have to steal some."

Ian led his companions in a mad dash through a new open-

ing in a corner. „It"s a ready-made army."

„Ready-made for what?" the major demanded.

„Conquering the world, I think. It"s an invasion."

For hundreds of yards around the hill the ground was

rippling and flexing. The surface of the fields pulsed upwards

like boiling water in a pot. Suddenly, one of the pulses burst,

a bronze blade thrusting up into the air. Next to it, a fist

punched its way out of the ground. Then another, and a

spear, and another fist.

Impassive, the frozen faces of the long dead kissed the air

for the first time in centuries. Warriors whose torsos were

sculpted into ancient armour flexed their moulded fists, and

pulled themselves free of the earth.

The Eight Thousand were going to war.

Barbara might be terrified, but she still had the heart and

soul of a historian who loved the products of ancient

civilisations with a passion that few couples could ever hope

to match in their love for each other.

It wasn"t just her job, or what she did, it was who she was.

Qin"s burial chamber simply took her breath away. She no

longer felt like a prisoner, or a sacrifice, or even an audience

for the man"s insane ramblings. She was a female Howard

Carter, experiencing the splendours of a forgotten age.

The floor was a sculpted map of China, skilfully and

exquisitely formed by the master craftsmen of the third

century BC. Every mountain range was exactly modelled in

miniature, every city represented by a model palace or

pagoda. Rivers flowed through the valleys and channels of

the miniature Middle Kingdom, but they weren"t water.

Mercury gleamed in the river beds, circulating through the

burial chamber like blood through the chambers of the heart.

In the exact centre of the landscape, representing Chang"an

itself, stood a large sarcophagus. It was carved with the full

life-story of the First Emperor - his official version, of course -

and inside it a figure encrusted in jade lay staring up at the

ceiling.

Barbara knew who was wrapped in that precious shroud,

and so did her captor. He was staring at it like a man pos-

sessed. The thought insinuated itself into her head before she

could stop it.

Apart from the ubiquitous and ever-burning oil lamps,

tended by a robot-like terracotta warrior, the chamber was

illuminated by a faint column of light that beamed down from

the ceiling to the sarcophagus. It had been barely noticeable

at first, but was brightening as the minutes went past. Tiny

flickers of electric arcs had broken off from it, slithering into

the mercury rivers and away to parts unknown.

Barbara didn"t know what it was, but was sure it must be

something evil. She also didn"t know what Qin wanted to do

with her and it, and she wasn"t sure she wanted to know,

either.

Qin suddenly spread his hands wide. „Be pleased, woman,

and welcome your reunion with your friend."

Barbara was taken by surprise, but turned to the half-

hidden doorway hoping against hope that it was Ian.

It was the next best thing, and she felt a twinge of guilt at

the slight sinking of her heart when she saw the Doctor. He

was escorted by another terracotta warrior, and Gao, as well

as half a dozen human guards. The humans looked warily at

the warriors, which had never spoken in all the time Barbara

had been guarded by them.

In a way Qin was glad of the Doctor"s arrival. He had heard

so much about this man, and knew he was a threat, but it

was always courteous to see your enemy in person before his

execution.

„Welcome, Doctor."

„I wish I could say it was a pleasure, Abbot, or whatever

you"re calling yourself today."

„You may call me Emperor Qin."

„I shall most certainly do no such thing!"

„You will, Doctor, or your friend will die."

The Doctor fell silent. This mollified Qin slightly - it was

only natural that such a worthy opponent would frustrate

him in this way. It was something Qin could test himself

against, to see whether he could resist the urge to rise to the

Doctor"s bait. He knew he could, because he was emperor of

a country he loved with all his heart. His country and his

people were his muse and motivation, and he would not let

them down by allowing himself to be distracted by the

Doctor.

„That"s better," he said. „It is fitting that someone of your

stature should witness my apotheosis."

The Doctor snorted. „I can assure you that is not what is

about to happen."

„No? Do you think you can stop me?"

„It is not you I wish to stop."

This gave Qin pause. He was in control here. Everything

had gone according to his design so that he might rule China

and give its people his love for eternity. The loyal people.

Others, undeserving of his love, would die. „There"s no-one

elsewhere to stop."

„But there is," the Doctor said. „A being beyond your imag-

ination, which sits in your mind like the captain of a ship."

„I am my own ruler, Doctor."

„You are not, sir!" the Doctor replied, his voice becoming

more impassioned.

„I am the First Emperor! I am Qin Shi Huang -"

„The First Emperor died two thousand years ago!" the

Doctor insisted.

„I cheated death, Doctor. I fled the body until I could take

possession of a new one. And I shall do so again and again,

as many times as it takes."

„Fled the body?" the Doctor echoed. „Fled the body? And

how, pray, did you do that?"

Qin hesitated. He knew this was what he had done - he

remembered planning it, seeking out the sorcerers who could

instruct him - but he could remember none of the details.

„Exactly," the Doctor snapped. „Qin Shi Huangdi died of

obesity and heavy-metal poisoning from eating jade and

mercury, and was carried around in a wagon of fish for

weeks before being buried. You are nothing more than a copy

of some of his memories, in a personality matrix. You are an

executable application engram, not the spirit of a deceased

ruler."

Qin desperately wanted to think of a worthy retort, but

couldn"t. Suddenly, he realised he could no longer hear the

Doctor"s words. He felt a plummeting sensation in his gut,

but that, too, faded quickly, along with his sight. Then there

was nothing.

The abbot"s body stiffened and his eyes began to glow. Light

seeped from his ears and nostrils, and escaped from between

his lips when he spoke. „The being that was Qin is of no more

use to us, Traveller. This planet is part of our domain now."

5

Logan and Fei-Hung had somehow lost the soldiers in the

maze of tunnels and corridors. If Fei-Hung hadn"t known

better he would have sworn the corridors were calmly

rearranging themselves, ensnaring the intruders in a spider"s

web. The friezes would be confusing enough, concealing

doors and corners, but the way they were taking on a new life

of their own, brightening and sharpening to a degree of

realism that was utterly disturbing, made it ten times worse.

Fei-Hung felt, rather than heard, the click from under the

slab. He immediately dropped, swinging out a foot to sweep

Logan"s legs out from under him. Logan fell down with a yell

and a crossbow bolt flashed over the top of his head, missing

it by a couple of inches and burying itself in the wall at what

would have been about liver height if he"d been standing.

Fei-Hung stayed down, listening out for any more sounds

that might indicate danger. Logan"s eyes darted around

everywhere, bulging.

„I say, do you think it safe to get up?"

„I don"t think anything in this place is safe," Fei-Hung told

him honestly. „But I don"t want to live the rest of my life on

this floor." He rose cautiously. „We should move more

carefully. There may be other traps."

Logan broke open his revolver and tipped out the empty

cartridges. „I think you"re right, there."

„The traps are a good sign. They suggest we are near some-

thing worth keeping people away from."

He led Logan round the next corner, and noticed a

flagstone that was raised perhaps a tenth of an inch above its

neighbours. „Don"t step on that one."

Logan merely swallowed.

Beyond the suspect flagstone was a series of doorways. The

first led to a room full of the skeletons. The second was a

floorless trap with spikes in a pit. The third contained old

coins. Finally, the fourth was a more general store room.

Fei-Hung spied a collection of scrolls heaped in a corner.

He picked one up, looking for something useful. Writing

would never have been invented if it didn"t have benefits, and

even the First Emperor had thought a few books worthy of

keeping.

The scroll was large, perhaps two feet long, and he only

unrolled a few inches. It was a set of engineering plans

depicting the counterweight system used to open and close

the mausoleum"s main doorways. In and of itself it was

useless, but it was enough to tell him that his instincts

weren"t playing him false. There were many scrolls here, and

they were presumably all records of different information.

He stepped back out of the room, carefully avoiding the trip

for the crossbow trap that had almost deprived Miss Law of

her wedded bliss, and called quietly to Captain Logan.

„What is it, lad?" the Englishman whispered.

Fei-Hung brandished the scroll. „Drawings. Engineering

plans. There might be another one that shows the geological

area and the water table."

Logan wasted no time; he snatched a handful of scrolls,

and started to spread one out on the floor, his eyes bright

with excitement.

„Wait," Fei-Hung said. He quickly sketched the ideograms

for „water" and „level" on a piece of scrap paper. „Look for these

words. That will be the scroll we want."

„Right you are, sir."

Logan and Fei-Hung started unrolling scrolls and tossing

them aside after glances cut tragically short by the absence

of the required symbols.

After a moment, Fei-Hung felt a stab of guilty pride that he

had been the one to find the scroll with the symbols. „Look,"

he said. „This is it."

Logan took the scroll and spread it out on the flagstones. „It

certainly looks like a survey showing a water table, though

I"m no expert." He pointed to some writing in heavier, more

emphatic strokes. „What"s that?"

„It says, “Avoid disturbance here. Do not dig.”" Fei-Hung

looked at Logan, sure the Englishman was thinking exactly

the same thing as he was. „That"s what we want."

„We have to get this to Major Chesterton."

„Then come on!"

Major Chesterton and his group had the misfortune to be

followed by the waking terracotta warriors. Whether this was

because they recognised his party as the greater threat, or

simply because the major and his companions were close to

them, Chesterton couldn"t say. The group had managed to

find its way back to the cavern of tree-like pillars, but the

warriors were on its heels.

Rifle and pistol fire cracked and boomed in the cave, every

explosion magnified and echoing several times over. Dust and

pottery chips sparked from the advancing warriors, leaving

scars and pits, but they kept coming. Chesterton had made it

clear that Vicki was to be protected at all costs, and his

soldiers agreed. God alone knew what had driven the young

lady to come along anyway.

Luckily, few of the warriors had weapons, but as they were

bulletproof and had limbs as solid as stone - literally - this

didn"t make them any less dangerous. Nor did it take long for

the soldiers to start running out of ammunition.

Chesterton was out of ammo terrifyingly quickly, and found

himself in hand-to-hand combat with one of the warriors.

Worse still, his opponent had a sword. The major barely drew

his own sabre in time when it attacked. The warrior was

surprisingly fast, and didn"t seem to feel the hits he landed

on it. It drove him back, further and further until he heard a

noise behind him and ducked. A stony fist swept over his

head from a second warrior who was coming up behind him.

The bastards were hunting in pairs.

The major parried and riposted as best he could, trying not

to let the two warriors box him into a corner. Sparks flew

when their blades clashed, and small chips of pottery

splintered off when Chesterton managed to land a cut on

either of them. It was a losing battle, and he knew it. He

redoubled his efforts, knowing that he was doing little more

than giving them a run for their money. His sabre darted

around wildly, blocking their increasingly furious advances,

but his muscles were beginning to ache.

Then a massive, two-handed swipe from one of the warriors

knocked the sabre clear out of his hand, and Chesterton

stared death in its impassive grey face.

In an explosion of dust and potsherds the lead warrior"s arm

shattered and fell. It turned, and something blurred past

Chesterton"s eyes to strike it in the face. Its head came off

exposing the wooden plugs in its neck that had kept it in

place.

Ian pulled the major aside. „Looks like I was just in time."

„What the hell did you do?"

Ian held up a workman"s hammer, perhaps half the size of

a sledgehammer. „I found this in a pile of old tools. They"ve

been doing a lot of work down here. Sharp edges didn"t seem

to do any good, but I thought that if these things are made of

hollow pottery they should be pretty fragile."

„Use your rifle butts," Chesterton shouted immediately. The

men grasped the idea straight away, and in moments the

cave was filled with the sound of smashing pottery.

Logan had reached the cavern just in time to see Chesterton

lose his sword. It was the worst moment of the bearded

captain"s life. He knew that Vicki could see the look on his

face, but his emotion was too true to hide, even from himself.

Then Ian had come to the rescue and the tide of battle had

turned.

„I"ve only seen that look once before," Vicki said. „It was

Barbara, when Ian was hurt."

Logan"s lips thinned. „I don"t know what you mean."

Chesterton made a count and discovered they had lost six

men to the warriors. He felt empty inside, and unable to

mourn their loss yet. He knew he would later, but for now he

just wanted the night to be over. At least they were all

together again.

Though his limbs felt quivery and his back ached, he forced

himself to join Ian in examining the map Fei-Hung and Logan

had found. „It looks simple enough," he said. „If they haven"t

added any extra protection on top we can blast through this

part here. We"ve got enough dynamite for that."

„Good," Ian said. „Master Wong, do you think you can find

this place?"

Kei-Ying inclined his head. „Easily."

Major Chesterton straightened and put some authority

back into his voice. „Right. Logan, Kei-Ying and I will go and

put a leak in this tunnel. Ian, I presume you"ll be going after

Barbara and the Doctor."

Yes."

„I"ll go with you," Fei-Hung said.

Ian sent a questioning glance to Kei-Ying, who nodded.

„Anderson," the major continued. „Get everyone else out of

here. Take the furthest building you can find in the encamp-

ment outside, and hold it until the rest of us join you."

„Aye, sir."

Fei-Hung led Ian deeper into the mausoleum, moving as fast

as possible but looking out for more warriors.

„Are you sure you know where we"re going?" Ian asked.

„The emperor"s burial chamber is at the exact centre of the

mausoleum, according to the plans we found. The Doctor

said the centre is where everything will happen, so I think it"s

the best place to look."

Ian grinned as best he could considering that he was

almost out of breath just trying to keep up with the teenager.

„You"d make a great scientist."

„Healing is a science."

Anderson had at first been glad of his assignment to escort

Vicki and the remaining soldiers back to the surface and

safety. It wasn"t that he was a coward, or wanted to run

away, but Megan did deserve to see her father again.

Maybe it was time to buy himself out of the army and go

home. He could join the police in Glasgow. They were always

on the lookout for ex-army types, especially sergeants. Then

he could mix with all the riff-raff he liked - and crack a few

heads and make a profit - and still see his family at night.

Then they emerged from the cave on to the hillside, and

Anderson wished he had stayed underground.

The land was a morass of mud and half-buried warriors.

Some of the warriors had freed themselves and were forming

up into battle lines and marching formations, while others

were chasing down the Black Flag guards and killing them,

apparently for practice.

Anderson breathed out every curse word he knew. „We"ll

have to try to sneak past them."

„But what about the others when they come out?" Vicki

asked.

„They"re not stupid," Anderson said. „Not that stupid,

anyway."

„Run," Chesterton said, and lit the fuse for the explosives he,

Kei-Ying and Logan had set. The corridor they were in was

totally nondescript, without any of the characteristic murals

decorating it, but Kei-Ying was adamant that this was the

place.

Chesterton pelted back the way they had come, unsure

whether his lungs or legs were burning with the most pain.

When the explosion came it was deafening and almost

threw him off his stride. He pushed himself along the wall

until he recovered his balance and kept running. He didn"t

know how much water was being released, and had no desire

to become a fish at this stage in his life.

Behind him, as his hearing recovered, he heard a sound

like a babbling brook.

The water wasn"t blasting through the tunnels under high

pressure, or pushing down doors or walls, but it was flowing

quite rapidly. It sloshed along the floor, seeking out doorways

to spread through and scrolls to soak into.

In the burial chamber, a warrior was holding the Doctor by

his upper arms. The column of light was blazing now, and

Barbara thought she could almost see images or patterns in

the light stream. They weren"t faces, but forms - amorphous

and indistinct.

Whatever was occupying the abbot"s body - she knew it

wasn"t Qin any more - lifted Barbara over one of the mercury

rivers and pushed her towards the light. „Our dominion must

be ruled well, with experience, Doctor," it was saying.

„Experience?" the Doctor uttered in horror.

„It is fitting," the sepulchral, and slightly maudlin voice

boomed. „We allowed Qin to be activated because the world

did not become ours four hundred years ago. Your influence

has been, and will be, great upon this world. We would have

it be our influence."

Barbara realised then what it meant. „Doctor, I think it

wants to possess us, and use us as puppets, like Qin."

„That is exactly what it wants."

The warrior started pushing the Doctor forward. Barbara

could see him trying to resist, but without effect. Meanwhile,

the being that had usurped Qin"s body was pushing her

closer to the light.

„Step into the light, Traveller. Be part of our light."

The body of the abbot, so recently vacated by Qin, tried to

push Barbara into the column of light at the centre of the

sarcophagus. She remembered the Doctor"s move from his

fight with Jiang and twisted, slipping neatly out of his grasp.

The abbot wobbled slightly and nearly stepped in the

scaled-down river. Nearly, but not quite. Barbara ran,

noticing as she went that the quicksilver was being flushed

away, and that most of the model rivers were now running

with water.

The abbot"s cadaver stretched out a hand for a lightning

blast. To keep out of the water he had to keep going higher

up the island on which Qin"s sarcophagus stood.

Then three men stepped into her view. Gao, his whole head

glowing, began to reach out. Behind him, Fei-Hung launched

himself into a flying leap at his back, and behind Fei-Hung,

Ian - blessed, wonderful Ian - broke into a determined grin.

Ian"s hand was stretched out behind him and snapped

forward suddenly, propelling a piece of broken stone at what

he probably thought was Qin. Qin"s hand flashed up and

took the blow on the wrist. He swayed backwards for a

moment, then steadied himself. His foot was less than an

inch above the wet ground on the island.

The alien intelligence that was in charge of Qin made his

face smile. The corners of his lips were dragged upwards,

bearing no relation to the rest of his face, and his foot began

to move back towards dry ground.

Then, just for an instant, the light faded from his eyes and

the smile became more genuine. Barbara locked eyes with

him and saw not the solar glow of alien energy, but the

fierceness of a tiger that knows it is at the top of the food

chain. It was the look of a man refusing to give up his

country, his people or his throne to anyone, least of all a

foreign invader.

Then the burning projection of light was back, but too late.

Qin"s foot was already stamping down, slapping into the

waterlogged ground with a decisive smack.

Blackness exploded into every corner of the mausoleum

complex with a thunderclap more astonishing than anything

the gods themselves could set off, knocking everyone to the

ground.

Outside, Anderson"s men were doing their best to dodge and

evade the warriors. Some hand-to-hand skirmishing was

going on, and a couple of the men were firing the rifles

intended for the warriors at them, but it was a losing battle.

Man after man was turning and fleeing, and even Vicki was

smashing the hands of warriors with a rifle butt.

Then, suddenly, the column of light popped and disap-

peared, like a soap bubble bursting, and the warriors froze. A

few rifle-butt thuds sounded, then stopped. Every one of the

warriors was still and lifeless, a harmless statue once more.

„He did it," Vicki said. „The Doctor must have done it again."

6

The rain whooshed through the leaves, hissing like a nest of

snakes and turning the ground at the foot of the hillside into

mud that would bog down any approaching horse.

This didn"t impede the man who was making his way to the

glow of the bandits" fire in the cave mouth. He was a monk in

tight leggings and loose robes, one shoulder bare. He was

approaching middle age, but his body was still firm and there

was little sign of a developing paunch. Though his head was

shaved, his small chin was covered with wisps of grey beard.

Nature was all around him, soaking into his robes, filling

his lungs and caressing his feet as he moved. He felt he was

part of it, and so in tune with the world around him, rather

than stepping over or through it.

Two other monks followed him through the trees. One - Yen

- was slight, with an angular face and glittering eyes under

straight brows. Yeung"s torso was almost triangular, rising

from a narrow waist to impossibly wide shoulders. His

shoulders, chest and upper arms were huge, muscles upon

muscles, and his squarish head rose from those

mountainous shoulders with hardly any sign of a neck in

between.

„Abbot, look," Yeung said pointing. The abbot looked and

made out the shapes of soaked horses above them, a short

walk from the cave.

„It"s them," the abbot said. „They will have taken their booty

into shelter. Come."

He led the other two monks up to the side of the cave,

taking care not to disturb the horses or let his feet squelch in

the mud.

The abbot stepped into the cave and immediately took up a

fighting stance against the inevitable defence the nine thieves

would put up.

Nothing happened; the cave was empty. Baffled, the abbot

beckoned the other two monks to join him.

„Where are they?" the thinner monk asked.

„I don"t know. Perhaps there"s another exit from this cave.

Did you see anyone out in the storm making for the horses?"

Both monks shook their heads. The abbot"s eyes fell on

several pouches and saddlebags. „There are the valuables

they took from the caravan. At least they can be returned."

He grimaced. It rankled him to let the thieves go unpunished.

They should have been taken back to the city for trial.

Recovering the stolen goods was as important, though, and it

would have to suffice.

He was reaching for the nearest pouch, his fingers almost

touching the leather strap, when an awe-struck wordless

sound reached his ears. It echoed slightly, as if from afar. He

looked around and saw only darkness before him. The

darkness of a tunnel leading down, deeper into the hill.

Nodding silently to his colleagues, the abbot started down

the tunnel. He moved without a sound, and so took the three

men coming up it by surprise. A couple of quick knee strikes

and punches felled the first two, but the third man, almost as

big as Yeung, had time to draw a weapon. Yen"s staff darted

out over the abbot"s shoulder, the end driving straight into

the giant"s forehead. The man crashed to the ground, his

shout of pain cut off as soon as it began. The torch he was

carrying bounced down the steps into the open area below,

but did not go out.

The abbot would have preferred there to be no sound to

alert the bandits, but it didn"t matter too much. They would

be no match for men who had been trained in fighting since

they were old enough to walk.

The tunnel opened into a larger chamber where the fallen

torch burnt on the floor, next to its owner. He was still alive,

moaning faintly, but was out of the fight.

Yen and Yeung followed the abbot out on to the flagstones

of a large cave. Shadows hinted at huge pillars, barely visible

in the light of various torches. The abbot wasn"t interested in

the cave, but in the nine - now six - men who had entered it

before he arrived.

The fugitive bandits were arrayed before him. They looked

unsettled, but not frightened or angry.

The abbot stepped forward, casual but alert. „Bandits! Give

yourselves up now, and I will see that you are not executed."

He hoped they would see sense. Life was better than death,

no matter what.

One man, clearly the leader of the bandits, stepped slightly

forward. He was of average height, dressed in clothes that

were probably new when his father was a boy. A patch cov-

ered his left eye and his right hand rested loosely on the hilt

of a sword in his belt. He drew it, revealing it to be a curved

sabre that glinted like the grin of a madman in the torchlight.

„You"re outnumbered, monk," he said. „Leave now and I"ll let

you keep the same number of limbs as you had when you

came in."

The abbot had hoped he wouldn"t have to harm the bandits

any further, but they were free men, as he was, and free to

make their own choices. There was no need to discuss the

matter further. Instead, a flick of his foot sent the fallen torch

spinning towards the leader"s face. The leader cut it aside

with his sword.

Firelight waved and spun, causing shadows and darkness

to tumble, as a couple of bandits used their torches as

weapons to swing at the monks. Yen was fighting the leader,

but a couple of other bandits blocked the abbot"s approach to

him.

He dispatched them easily, sending their agonised bodies

tumbling into the darkness with several broken bones each.

He could feel their forearms crack against his fists, as if he

were punching through thin panels or decorative shutters.

Even their screams couldn"t quite hide the repulsive sounds

of bones breaking.

It had been their choice, the abbot reminded himself. Then

he was at the bandit leader"s shoulder, and the man was

turned away from him trying to recover his breath. The abbot

didn"t want to give him the chance to get back into the fight.

He lashed out with his foot, the top of it smacking the bandit

square in the kidneys.

The bandit pulled himself up against the wall of the cave,

instinctively dodging backwards. He twisted and rolled to his

feet, lashing out with his fists. He was quite good, for an

amateur, but the abbot slid aside easily, letting all the

bandit"s punches and kicks connect only with thin air. Then

a flick of the wrist tapped the bandit"s ear.

This time he stayed down.

The abbot seized the man, dropping to put his knee into

the small of the bandit"s back, and grabbed his hands pulling

them behind him. „You should have listened," he said. He

meant it.

„These men are good companions, not animals to be

slaughtered," the bandit pleaded. „If you think differently,

then it"s you who deserves to be executed."

Then, out of the corner of his eye, the abbot thought he

saw something move on the ceiling. A light of some kind, but

that was impossible. He started to look up, but remained

conscious of the bandit.

There was a light there, rippling and glowing. He opened

his mouth to call to his two comrades, but never got as far as

emitting a sound. The light gathered itself, and leapt down at

him, blinding and burning him so much that he couldn"t

stand it.

He tried to scream, but nothing would come. He tried to

move, but couldn"t feel his legs, or anything else.

Then there was a merciful blackness.

He was lying on the floor of the cave that the bandits had

sheltered in. All of a sudden it was more brightly lit, and he

wasn"t sure that he was in the spot where he had been

holding the bandit leader. His whole body ached with a deep,

icy fire that he had never imagined in his worst nightmares.

Every limb felt as if it weighed a hundred tons and would

need a thousand men to move it an inch.

The light stung his eyes, and the clothes he was wearing

seemed to be entangling him. They weren"t the monk"s robes

he had been used to since he was three, but finer, heavier

garments. The robes of a noble, or government official,

perhaps.

He tried to move his arms and groaned with the effort.

Slowly, as slowly and painfully as if his arms were trying to

push a mountain across the land, he rose. Through eyes that

were throbbing and out of focus, he could make out a

mixture of Chinese and white men. Most of the white men

were soldiers in uniform, apart from a man in strange clothes

and an older, white-haired man.

„What happened? Who are you?" he asked.

The old man pushed the nearest soldier"s gun down with

his walking stick. „I don"t think you"ll be needing that now,

young man." He stepped forward, looking the abbot in the

eye. „May I ask you your name, sir?"

„Abbot Wu." He looked around. „Where have the bandits

gone?"

„Bandits?"

„My comrades and I...," as if he had been called, Yen

groaned, beginning to wake up, „...pursued nine bandits to

these caves. They had robbed a caravan carrying supplies to

our temple. We tracked them to here, and fought them.

Then..." His voice trailed off and he looked baffled.

„You don"t remember anything after that?" the old man

asked. It was as much a statement as a question.

„No. One moment we were binding the wrists of the bandits,

and the next I woke up just now."

The journey back to Canton would take a lot longer than the

journey from it, Ian knew. He didn"t mind in the slightest, if it

meant that: a) the threat was over, and b) he and Barbara

could be together.

It was a pleasant September day as they relaxed on the

boat carrying them down the Pearl River towards the city.

Barbara leant against Ian, and said, „I wanted to ask you

something."

„Anything." He realised that the word probably sounded

more soulful than he had intended it to, and thought about

correcting this. „You know you could ask anything of me," he

said, finally. „What did you have in mind?"

„Oh, nothing much. I was just wondering if you"d marry me,

if ever we get home."

Anderson watched them from the wheelhouse and felt a

certain warmth. It did a body"s heart good to see two young

folk so much in love. He let his lip curl, causing a couple of

soldiers to look away hurriedly lest he take a punishing

interest in them.

It was only when he was alone - in the privacy of his billet

or, in this case, the wheelhouse, that Anderson could finally

relax. A letter from his daughter had arrived today, and he

could let his face show a smile as he read it in private.

Then one day, as the red leaves turned to the shade that was

the most valuable form of gold in the world, Wong Fei-Hung,

his wife - and that was a wedding the time travellers would

long remember - his father and Major Chesterton said their

goodbyes to the Doctor, Ian, Barbara and Vicki at the old

temple, and watched them file impossibly into the box that

was still there.

There was a strange roaring sound from the temple. The

box faded away.

„Do you think we"ll ever see them again?" Major Chesterton

asked nobody in particular.

„They will always be with us," Fei-Hung said. „You can"t kill

what someone means to someone else."

Inside the Ship the instruments ticked and whirred, and Ian

felt at home for the first time in two years. Barbara sewing a

dress for Vicki seemed a disturbingly comfortable sight, as

did Vicki getting in the way.

The Doctor brushed an imaginary speck of dust off the

console with a handkerchief, and looked paternally over the

console room.

This, too, was a familiar and comfortable sight - a far cry

from the days when Ian and Barbara had viewed the old man

as a cold-blooded kidnapper who had abducted them for the

sake of his granddaughter.

What sort of person wouldn"t be capable of doing something

stupid, in a moment of panic, to protect his family? Ian

sometimes thought this particular fallibility was reassuring.

It made the Doctor less cold-hearted and alien than he might

otherwise have seemed.

In many ways, it made him seem more human than many

of the parents Ian and Barbara dealt with in the course of

their work as teachers at Coal Hill School.

What made Ian feel most comfortable, however, and most

complete, was the peace that had come with saying „Yes".

CUTAWAY II

And there the Taoist priest stopped writing, with the rising of

the sun. The cold night had indeed passed agreeably. But the

priest’s curiosity was not sated, and he asked the jade: ‘What

of the one you mentioned? What of his tale?’

‘If you return this way another night,’ the jade told him,

‘that tale will pass that night as agreeably as this one, for it is

another story.’

Translated by Major William Chesterton (retired) in 1890, from

the surviving fragment of ‘Mountains and Sunsets’ by Ho Lin

Chung (AD 1537).

NOTES, THANKS, ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

AND OTHER WAFFLE

Bloody typical, isn’t it? Just as I think I’ve completed the set,

written for all the TV Doctors and can finally relax... they

bring out another one! But I don’t think any disappointment’

has ever been so pleasing.

This book was at one stage intended to be a more serious

character-historical in the vein of Wages of Sin, but the

amount that is known about Wong Fei-Hung’s life is actually

not very much. So, I hope you’ve enjoyed this Doctor

Who/Golden Harvest kind of romp...

Special mention and thanks must go to: TP Chai, Keith

Topping (he told me to keep *that* joke in...), Warren Albers

(who has infinite patience for emails about fiddly language

changes) and Nick Wallace. A special ‘hi’ to all the folks on

the Outpost Gallifrey forums as well.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

David A. Mclntee has written more Doctor Who novels than

he can count these days. A seasoned traveller, he is married

to Ambassador Mollari and lives in Yorkshire with B’Elanna,

Seven of Nine, a live Cannonball and a stripy git.

When not writing books he explores historical sites,

researches

Fortean

subjects,

teaches

stage-fighting

workshops and collects SF weaponry. His role models in life

are the Fourth Doctor, Kerr Avon, Graeme Garden and Eddie

Hitler, so members of the public should be wary of

approaching him.

One of the statements on this page is untrue.

That’s it, then. Go on, haven’t you folks got no homes to go

to? You can put the book down now, there’s only the inside of

the back cover left...

Document Outline

Front Cover

Back Cover

CUTAWAY I

CHAPTER ONE 1

2

3

4

5

6

7

CHAPTER TWO 1

2

3

4

5

6

CHRPTER THREE 1

2

3

4

5

CHAPTER FOUR 1

2

3

4

5

6

CHAPTER FIVE 1

2

3

4

5

CHAPTER SIX 1

2

3

4

5

6

CUTAWAY II

NOTES

ABOUT THE AUTHOR