Fic: A Family Affair (2/3)
Title: A Family Affair
Fandom: the "Gallifrey" audio series
Rating: PG/gen
Length: 19424 words
Spoilers: set between 3.4 "Mindbomb" and 3.5 "Panacea", with no spoilers for series 4
Characters: Narvin, Leela, K9, Romana, OCs
Summary: my morepolitics entry for ficciones, whose prompt was "Leela and Narvin in something buddy-cop style. Preferably with hijinks" - it is certainly a buddycop story, but maybe a little short of hijinks.
Part One
The motherhouse of Stillhaven had been located on a vast estate on the northern slopes of Mount Cadon since time immemorial. Its foundations had been laid before even the mighty citadel had been built, and since then, generations had continued to thrive there, sequestered in the clear, calm air of the mountains, far away from the troubled life of the Capital. It was almost a settlement of its own, housing at any time between twenty and two-hundred cousins of Stillhaven. Narvin had never spent much time on the grounds as a child, and it still surprised him to see how vast they truly were. The land served no purpose - farming had died out long before Rassilon’s time, and hunting, even as a sport, had been out of fashion for millennia. Perhaps in these uncertain times, people would start to build in this isolated area again.
At present, Stillhaven was teeming with people. As he pulled in for the landing, Narvin could see a small fleet of fliers, skippers and other vehicles scattered on the lawn like boats tied to a mooring, with their solar panels and gleaming metal surfaces ablaze in the last sunlight.
Narvin threw one last unhappy glance at Leela. Everyone would recognise her instantly for Romana’s alien bodyguard, on the other hand, Narvin’s black and white CIA robes were just as conspicuous. He could have tried to go incognito, in civilian clothes - he still owned a number of Arcalian robes with which he would have blended in easily among his cousins - but the half-formed plan in his head required the protection of authority. Narvin had therefore chosen his most ostentatious dress uniform, which had gold piping, an impractical sash and a very uncomfortable collar that itched where it came into contact with the faded scars from the bomb blast that had nearly killed him during the war. Still, there was a difference between being impressive and looking as if you were to be the evening’s entertainment.
“Leela,” he said to her in his most imploring tone, “let me do the talking.”
“I have no wish to talk to your tribe,” Leela said, looking rather distracted as she stepped cautiously out of the flyer and onto the grass. For a moment, a smile lit up her features, and she lifted her face towards the sun, basking in its light, then her expression darkened again, and she sighed. “The air smells fresh and bright in this place. I wish I could see the sky.”
“The valley is said to be... picturesque,” Narvin admitted reluctantly.
“That means beautiful?”
He didn’t reply. Leela’s interest had made him take a closer look at the site and everywhere, Narvin saw changes that took his breath away. When Leela noticed his silence, she stepped closer. “Is something wrong?” she asked in low voice.
“The south gate is barricaded,” Narvin said, turning slightly as he spoke, and noticing more changes with each passing moment. “There are scorch marks on the walls, and refugee tents on the lawn. I hadn’t realized the war had come this far.”
“You did not check if your family was well?”
“There was no time,” Narvin snapped. More quietly he added, “And I never thought that Stillhaven would ever see war. These walls have not seen a single shot fired for tens of thousands of years. In my youth, bringing a weapon to an occasion like this would have caused a scandal - now there are armed guards at the door. Gallifrey is- Gallifrey was the galaxy’s oldest peaceful civilisation. There hasn’t been a war fought on Gallifreyan ground for long than it takes most species to develop sentience. We have some of the deadliest, most powerful weapons in the universe, but since the wars fought by Rassilon, we have never used them to conquer or destroy. That is what makes us the greatest civilisation of all, don’t you see, Leela? Peace and stability.”
“No longer the greatest,” Leela said. “War has come to Gallifrey, and now you are no different from the rest of us.”
It smarted - especially as Leela took no pains to hide her satisfaction - but it was true.
“We’re late,” Narvin said, summoning up all the dignity and authority he could muster. “It looks as if most guests have already arrived. Stay close by my side.”
“To ‘watch your back’?” Leela asked as she followed him, still cautious in the unfamiliar terrain.
“Yes, but also to listen closely to what people are saying. Use those instincts of yours, and tell me, quietly, if there is anything suspicious.”
“But if it is this dangerous, why did you not bring along more weapons and people?” Leela asked.
“Later,” Narvin said, because they had reached the entrance of the main court, where, to Narvin’s surprise, a stiff-necked young man in the livery of Stillhaven’s guards was holding a staser and checking invitations.
“Name?” the guard demanded.
“Chief Co-ordinator Narvin of the CIA. I’m on the list.” The guard was hardly paying attention to the list, instead, he was staring, half-mocking, half salacious, at Leela. Narvin narrowed his eyes. “And this is the Lady Leela of Deeptree.”
Leela turned around in instant indignation. “I am no Lady of-”
Narvin discreetly elbowed her in the side, which under any other circumstances, he wouldn’t have dared. “The Lady Leela of Deeptree,” he repeated more loudly, and simply shouldered past the guard, dragging Leela along.
“At this rate, you’ll get us thrown out before we’re even in,” he hissed furiously at Leela.
“But I am no Lady of Deeptree,” she hissed back, shaking him off. “Andred is dead, and I am just Leela of the Sevateem. Is that not enough for you?”
“I’d introduce you as Rassilon’s secret daughter, if I thought it would impress anyone here,” Narvin snapped. “Honestly, you don’t have a subtle bone in your body, do you?”
Leela was prevented from replying by the gong being beaten. The assembled guests stood silently facing the podium where an ancient man in ceremonial robes was beating the gong. Next to the gong, an urn rested on a pedestal. The old man cleared his throat. “In the noble name and solemn memory of Darkellaquistraastrid, I welcome all who have been invited to this wake.”
This ended the ceremonial part of the evening, and Narvin wasn’t disappointed to have missed the rites and speeches. No doubt Darkel had requested a full service with all imaginable pomp. Most of the younger attendants looked shell-shocked into boredom, but the older, savvier family members were already spreading out on the lawn and mingling. Politics and intrigue in her memory - Darkel would have approved.
Before he could even scan the crowd for anyone he suspected of trying to poison him, they were approached by a short, elderly Time Lord. He was ancient, both in this body and in years, but his cheeks retained a vital glow. “Who do I spy with my old eyes?” he exclaimed, laughing at his own pun. “If it isn’t my favourite nephew, little Narvin! How are the bugs these days? Marged still keeps them in the attic, you know. Always going about what a waste it was that you didn’t make a career at the Academy.”
Narvin dearly wished he could have escaped, but his uncle had already latched onto his arm with a skeletal but powerful grip.
“I’m working for the CIA these days, Uncle Pendell,” he said through his teeth.
Pendell had always been Narvin’s least favourite Uncle. The man had been a news broadcaster before his retirement, and was still an incessant prattler who liked nothing better than to drag out everyone’s most embarrassing secrets. Right now, he was winking at Leela.
“Of course, son,” he said to Narvin, “but even a co-ordinator must have hobbies. Though I see you’ve moved on to rather more exotic fauna.”
Leela lifted her chin, glaring at a spot slightly to the left of Pendell’s face. “Careful, old man! I know that word, and I do not like it.”
“And neither do I,” Narvin said quickly to prevent a direct confrontation (it was perfectly true, since hearing ‘exotic’ and Leela mentioned in the same sentence had caused him to flush embarrassingly ever since that thrice-damned fake conference). “Leela is-” damn it, he couldn’t even call her one of his agents, because then Leela would gut him instead of Pendell, “Leela is my personal escort.” No, no, extremely bad, “I mean, she’s my bodyguard. My personal bodyguard.”
Pendell’s brows climbed into the vicinity of his scruffy white hair, and he began to chortle. He lowered his voice, “Well, then I hope she’s got more up her not very ample sleeves than some knives, if you know what I mean.”
Leela took a step closer, “I will show you my knives!”
Whatever else you could say about Pendell, though, he wasn’t a coward. He’d insulted at least five different presidents to their face in his lifetime and lived to tell the tale, and Leela’s fury only caused him to sidestep a little. “Please don’t, my dear, I wouldn’t want to embarrass Narvin. He’s far too good at doing that himself.” Pendell patted Narvin’s shoulder. “Do keep out of trouble, Narvin. There are some people here today who think you’ve rather made a mess of things, politically.”
With that, he turned on his heels, nimbly avoided a servitor with a tray of drinks, and would have been lost in the crowd if Narvin hadn’t followed him.
“Wait a moment,” he gasped, tugging his sleeve from Leela’s grip, and trying to lower his voice again. “Pendell. You said there were some people - but you wouldn’t know who, exactly?”
Mortifying though its delivery had been, Pendell’s warning might actually have been a gesture of friendship. Perhaps he was willing to make another one, and if there was anyone in Stillhaven who knew about rumours, then it was him.
Pendell frowned, and kept his distance. “I should say just about everyone,” he said, no longer genial. “And if you wished to be forgiven, I can’t see why you brought the ex-president’s bodyguard along with you. It seems a little clumsy, politically speaking, even for you. Now excuse me, I have a buffet to attend to.”
Pendell left, and this time, Narvin didn’t attempt to stop him. He felt strangely unsettled by this unexpected development. There were some people among his family whom Narvin would have suspected of trying to kill him if it were practical, but Pendell wasn’t one of them. Was he scared of Darkel’s cronies, or did he simply not care?
“You are surprised,” Leela said, too perceptive as always. “Is your uncle not always this rude?”
“Rude? Yes,” Narvin replied. “But not ruthless.”
He surveyed the crowd once more, noticing who was and who wasn’t obviously staring at them. Over near the podium, the most powerful members of Stillhaven stood in a loose circle of their own - Lady Tamarged, Cardinal Valoxin, Lord Hilding, who was said to be a candidate for the next Inquisitor Prime, and a number of their spouses and closest associates. Pendell had just joined them, and laughed at something Hilding said.
Leela suddenly touched his shoulder. “There is someone watching us,” she whispered. “I can feel it.”
Narvin waved for one of the servitors, using that movement to try and see if Leela was right. But instead of a servitor, he was handed a drink by a woman wearing Arcalian green and an amused smirk. “I see you’re watching the inner circle,” she said. “You should join them, Narvin, you’ve earned your place among them. Even Darkel almost respected you in the end.”
“Stop,” Leela said, her knife halfway out of its sheath. “Do not touch him.”
The woman laughed and handed Leela another glass of wine. “If I were trying to kill Narvin, it wouldn’t be this obvious. Won’t you introduce us, Narvin?”
“Eulidia,” Narvin said flatly. He should have realized that she would be here.
“Chairwoman Eulidia,” she corrected him, “but you may call me Eulidia for old time’s sake. Now who’s your delightfully unlikely accomplice?”
“I am Leela,” Leela said, swallowing a mouthful of wine, “This drink is good Narvin, it is not poisoned.”
“Fascinating,” Eulidia said. “Genetically enhanced taste receptors to make up for her blindness?”
“No, Leela is all natural.” Narvin shifted uncomfortably between them, trying to think of a way to end this conversation quickly. Eulidia might help, but she might just as well be the enemy. Narvin had never understood her. “I’m not here to chat.”
“Of course not,” Eulidia said over the rim of her own glass. “You’re here for the reading of Darkel’s will.”
“Oh,” Leela exclaimed, forgetting to keep her voice down. “So that is why we are here! Darkel had something you want, and she is going to pass it on to her heirs.”
“A fine tongue and a fine mind, too.” Leela seemed momentarily puzzled by the compliment, or perhaps its amused delivery. Eulidia laughed at the sudden silence, glancing from Leela to Narvin. “I think Darkel was wrong about you, Narvin. She thought that President Romana had bewitched you with her girlish charms, but clearly Romana’s side had more to offer than that.”
Narvin choked on his wine. “Darkel thought what?”
“I told her it was ridiculous, but Darkel was always fond of you in her own way. I remember when she kept going on about what a politically advantageous match you might one day be if you had someone to help you along with your career in the CIA...”
“Someone to help me along...?! All Darkel ever did was use me for her own gain!” Narvin sputtered.
“Yes,” Eulidia nodded, “dear old Darkel. I shall miss her, now and then.”
With that, she wandered gracefully off into the crowd, leaving Narvin to stare open-mouthed after her. Leela, who had finished her wine and dropped the glass on the ground, still looked puzzled. “Romana is not a witch! And what did she mean by ‘had more to offer’?”
“I doubt she meant anything at all. She was most likely having a laugh at our expense,” Narvin said darkly.
Leela shook her head. “I cannot tell if this woman was a friend or foe, and yet... I think she likes you. It is very strange... I do not think I have ever met someone who likes you.”
“I doubt she does,” Narvin muttered. He was still insulted by Eulidia’s ridiculous insinuations, but something she’d said had jogged a memory, and he was beginning to understand just how long Darkel had been trying to use him. She must have known, from the moment he joined the CIA, that he could be her in-road into a world that House Stillhaven had little connection with otherwise.
Leela was apparently unwilling to let the matter go. “She does not like you? Why?”
“Because she’s Darkel’s sister. And I nearly married her, once.”
Leela laughed out loud. “Eulidia was your betrothed? Was it a ‘political’ marriage?”
On Eulidia’s side it would certainly have been a political marriage. They’d known each other since childhood, but Eulidia had never shown any romantic interest in him until he’d joined the CIA. Her sudden interest had made sense to Narvin then - he’d been young, inexperienced and entirely too gullible to see Darkel pulling the strings. His best guess had been that women simply found spies more attractive than data technicians, and that even Eulidia, however sensible otherwise, could not help but fall for the dangerous charm of his new profession. Naturally he’d been pleased, then flattered, then smug. He’d even flirted with the idea of becoming respected and popular. The bubble had burst when Eulidia had broken off the engagement.
“I’m sure you’ll have a brilliant career as a spy, Narvin,” she’d said to him, “but I find this whole business of political marriage too tedious for words.” It had been mortifying, even hurtful, but in hindsight, Narvin could appreciate that a little cynicism went a long way in the CIA. From that day on, he’d never again wasted a thought on popularity, power or personal glory. He’d focused entirely on his career for its own sake, and eventually, found the service more fulfilling than marriage could ever have been. Without Eulidia, he might never have been the agent he was, but with her as his wife, he might indeed have been precisely the vain and corruptible man Darkel had wished him to be.
“Yes,” Narvin said in answer to Leela’s question, feeling a cold shiver at the thought of the path his life could have taken. “It would have been a political marriage.”
*
In hindsight, Leela was beginning to appreciate Andred’s family. When they had been newly married, she had asked him not to make her be friends with his family, because, although some his people had made a token effort to welcome her, Leela had known she would never fit in with them, at least not happily. But at least they had loved Andred enough to accept his chosen mate.
Narvin’s family, however, could only be compared to a pit full of hoarders. She was almost glad when the gong was beaten again and they were called to order by an elder of the tribe who announced that Darkel’s will would now be read. It bothered Leela that she still didn’t know what Narvin had come here for. If it belonged to Darkel, and if Narvin wanted it, then it could only be something dangerous. Perhaps one of Pandora’s secret weapons? She wished she could see, and she wished she had a better idea of her surroundings, in case they had to flee. And she would have given almost anything for K-9 to be at her side.
The list of things Darkel had owned was very long, and she had apparently bequeathed each and every last thing to a different one of her relatives. Leela found it very tiresome. Why divide your possessions thus? And who would want to own Darkel’s robes, anyway? With each item, Narvin seemed to grow more agitated, muttering to himself in a low voice about Darkel being a sly and devious woman.
Leela leaned close to him to whisper in his ear, “Is that which we came for not on the list?”
Narvin startled. “I fear Darkel may have anticipated my presence. Any number of those chests and scrolls and ceremonial hats could contain it.”
“So what do we do?”
“There’s only one thing we can do,” he said grimly.
“Will there be a fight?” Leela would well have liked to cut up a few of Narvin’s tribe, but she feared they would be outnumbered.
“Let’s hope not. But if you must, as the Co-ordinator of the CIA I authorize you to use any force necessary.” He pressed a small staser into her hand.
Leela took a deep breath. It would be good to die here, under the open sky, with grass beneath her feet and the clear night air cooling her face. “So be it, then,” she said.
When the elder neared the end of the will, Narvin started forward, pushing his way through the crowd. Leela followed him, gripping the sleeve of his robe with one hand and doing her best to appear threatening to those around them. They broke free of the crowd close to the speaker, who stopped in the middle of his speech to clear his throat in annoyance and demand, “What’s all this commotion about?”
“I’m sorry, Drower,” Narvin said, raising his voice over the murmuring crowd, “but I hereby declare this meeting unlawful under article 237 of the constitution of Gallifrey.”
“Two-hundred and thirty-seven?” someone wheezed indignantly to Leela’s right. “What does that youngster think he’s getting at?”
“Two-hundred and thirty-seven,” Narvin confirmed, and Leela could tell that he was grimly enjoying this. “Under the provision of Emergency Law, any assembly of more than ten people has to be authorized by the High Council, the Castellan, or the CIA, otherwise all present are suspect of high treason.”
“Under Emergency Law,” a female voice objected. “But we’re not!”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Cardinal Drella.” Narvin stepped up onto the podium. “President Matthias has only been in office for three days, and he has not, officially, declared that we’re no longer in a State of Emergency. As the highest legal authority in this place, I am well within my right to disperse this assembly and to confiscate all the items on this list.”
An outcry rose among the mourners, but none dared threaten Narvin directly. For a moment, Leela thought he might have won this battle with nothing but words. Then the elder cleared his throat again, thumped something heavy on the ground.
“As I was about to say,” he continued, “the last item on this list reads, ‘Should my cousin Narvin do me the honour of attending this reading, I leave to him the key to my vaults.’”
Narvin stilled. “Oh. Well. That’s... unexpected.”
“No!” Leela shouted, and tried to pull him back, but it was too late. Even as she grabbed him, there was a loud crack, Narvin twitched under her hands, and they both went down. Leela jumped back to her feet, wildly pointing her staser in every direction. “Off!” she yelled. “Get away from me, or I will shoot!”
Something pricked her shoulder, no more painful than a gnat’s bite. By the time Leela realised that it was poison, her legs gave out under her and she joined Narvin on the ground.
*
For a while, Leela thought Narvin might be dead, but then she heard him breathe again, and finally come to with a soft moan.
“Narvin?” she called out as loud as she dared, not knowing who might be nearby and listening. All Leela could tell was that they were somewhere cold and underground, probably a cellar or a dungeon, and that there were heavy chains around her wrists, shackling her to something heavy and wooden. “Wake up!”
Narvin mumbled something, then started awake. “The key!”
“Why did you touch it? It was Darkel’s - of course it was a trap!”
“Because it looked like - never mind. Where are we?”
“I cannot see.” Leela rattled her chains angrily. “Someone pricked me with a poison thorn, and I fainted. When I woke up, I heard them say that they were taking you to a doctor, but this is not a healing place.”
Narvin sniffed. “No, smells more like the wine cellar. It was probably a ruse... which means that not everyone at the wake was aware that people are trying to kill me. Someone’s covering this up. But I’m surprised my mother would fall for it...”
A door creaked in its handles, and people approached. Two, Leela thought, listening to their steps and the sweeps of their robes: one of them puffing and short of breath, like an old person, one of them wearing heavy boots, probably a guard.
“So you are awake again, Narvin,” a woman said. She sounded old, like one who speaks with wisdom and authority, or perhaps only great power.
“Lady Tamarged,” Narvin said softly. For the first time today, he sounded not just surprised, but insecure.
“I wouldn’t believe it when Darkel said it,” the woman continued sharply, “but you are a disgrace to your House, Narvin. I loomed you myself, and this is your thanks? Declaring us all traitors? Besmirching the memory of one far greater than you, one who brought nothing but fame to Stillhaven? And for what? A President who would have dragged Gallifrey to ruin, had she not been stopped by Darkel.”
“Are you aware,” Narvin interrupted her, high-pitched and tense, “that the key was a trap engineered by me for Darkel? And someone here poisoned my invitation! Or are you telling me you authorized all this?”
“Not the letter,” Tamarged said coldly, “but now I wish that fool Kelner hadn’t failed. It would have saved me the pain of looking at you now. As it is, I’ve made certain arrangements. You’ll soon see the error of your ways, Narvin, and then we may talk about how you can regain my trust.”
Narvin’s breath hitched. “Arrangements?”
“Cardinal Valoxin has kindly promised to lend me one of the Academy’s emergency regeneration chambers. Until then, I recommend you meditate on your mistakes and prepare yourself for a fresh start.”
Narvin made no reply.
“What about me?” Leela demanded. “You cannot let me rot down here! Give me a honourable death, a fight-”
Tamarged’s voice was laced with disgust. “I’ll let Narvin decide that, once he’s come to his senses. I think it’ll prove... cathartic.”
Their footsteps were fading in the distance before Leela spoke again, softly this time. “That woman - she was your mother?”
“Yes.”
Leela hesitated. Her own mother had died when she was not yet of age, and she had only faint memories of her, but they were loving and dear to her. She could not imagine how a mother could ever act like this towards her own child, even a Time Lady. “Will they kill you? With this ‘emergency regeneration chamber’?”
“No.” Narvin sounded as if he had to force himself to speak. “No, it’s a device used to induce forced regeneration. It’s usually used as a form of punishment less extreme than dispersion, or in medical emergencies. It... it seems my mother thinks I’ll change my mind once I’ve regenerated.”
“Oh.” Regeneration sounded like a terrible punishment to Leela, worse than dispersal, which only killed you. Regeneration meant that you lived on, yourself and yet not yourself, like a ghost or a revenant haunting your own life. She would have preferred a hundred deaths to regeneration.
Narvin suddenly laughed, the sound echoing hollowly in the cellar. “Forced regeneration! It’s something you do to degenerates, to madmen. This is utterly ridiculous. I won’t change my mind about what is right because of I’ve regenerated!”
“Andred did.”
“It wasn’t Andred’s regeneration that changed him so radically, it was what he did afterwards. He became who he pretended to be.” Narvin paused. His tone became intrigued. “Although... that gives me an idea. It might just work. I can pretend to come to my senses and beg my mother for forgiveness - and get right at Darkel’s plans! Don’t worry, I’ll find a way to convince her that you’re more useful to her alive than dead, you’ll just have to play along with whatever I say...”
Leela strained against the chains around her wrists so hard it hurt. “No! What if you end up like Andred, becoming who you pretend to be? You cannot risk that!”
“Oh please.” Narvin chuckled, slightly hysterical. “Andred took things far too personally, that’s why he became so confused. I, on the other hand will keep a cool and rational distance between me and my act. I’m not on some sort of ill-considered personal crusade here, I’m merely doing my job.”
“Why do you pretend not to care?” Leela exclaimed. “You do not have to lie to me! I know what it is like when your tribe wants to kill you for being right because they are all wrong and will not change their minds. Standing up against those you love is like cutting your own heart out with a dull knife.”
“You clearly haven’t the slightest notion of what family means on Gallifrey, so please stop making these utterly unfounded assumptions about my emotional state.” He laughed dully. “Love! What did Andred tell you about us? A Gallifreyan child is expected to be loyal towards his House, respectful. Love has nothing to do with it.”
“It has everything to do with love! How can you be loyal if you do not love? Without love, what you call loyalty is only blind obedience. And how can you love what you do not respect? Without respect, love is only... I do not know what it is. But it is not love.”
*
They were left alone. Narvin’s comlink had been taken away while he was unconscious, so they could not try to get any outside help, and the chains apparently proved to be too strong even for Leela, who would not stop pulling and squirming, exerting herself to no avail.
Narvin closed his eyes and tried to meditate as his mother had told him. A regeneration was always easier when you were calm and prepared. Ordinarily, Narvin had little use for meditation - his mind, when left to its own devices, tended to seize on the nearest worry until he grew entirely too agitated to achieve any sort of mental balance. But right now, Narvin’s mind felt blank, and all he had to do was let it drift.
He ended up thinking about Leela’s strange ideas about love. They weren’t what he’d expected from her. He’d always assumed that she was one of those romantic, sentimental fools for whom everything was a matter of passion and feeling, inconstant, violent, uncontrolled - after all, she had married for love into a society she could hardly understand.
But if you could substitute love for respect, for loyalty, then it changed everything. If that was what Leela meant by love, then they merely spoke different languages while meaning the same thing. He had never considered it before because Leela’s behaviour was always brash and emotional, but she did insist that she was a warrior, and that, in a primitive, tribal society like hers had to mean more than combat training. It was a way of life - not law, precisely, more a code of conduct, of honour. She would have been raised to depend on her fellow warriors and be dependable in return - a loyalty that could not be enforced, but had to be based on mutual trust, respect, a sort of love even. To ensure survival of the tribe, you had to value everyone in it as highly as yourself, there could be no selfishness, no radical individualism. Of course, such a system could never work on a larger scale. A society like Gallifrey survived not because it stood united, but because it had different factions balancing each other, their struggle leading to a slow but steady progress. And yet... Narvin would never have called himself a romantic, but there was something about Leela’s simple, tribal code of honour that sounded terribly appealing.
The chink of metal on stone startled him out of his thoughts.
“Finally,” Leela hissed, getting to her feet and rubbing her sore wrists. The chains lay useless on the floor - she appeared to have wriggled out of them rather than breaking them. She turned to him, her expression dark. “I have lost Andred, and my K-9 and I may be losing Romana soon. I will not lose another friend.”
Narvin blinked. “I wasn’t aware you considered me a friend.”
“Be quiet and help me with this,” Leela muttered, and started to work on his chains.
*
They managed to escape the cellar before his mother returned, and quickly agreed that they had to get back to the flyer. Narvin hoped that his mother hadn’t got rid of it, but if her plan was to make it look as if an accident at the wake had caused him to regenerate, she would have no reason to do so. Presumably her plans for him were that - however she intended to use Darkel’s inheritance, - he would return to his duties as Co-ordinator, effectively bringing the CIA under Stillhaven’s control.
He and Leela were on the ground floor and nearing one of the servants’ exits when they tripped the first alarm. Leela jumped like a startled cat, drawing her knife in an instant. Then heavy footsteps closed in on them from two sides of the hall. Panicked, Narvin grabbed Leela and dragged her into the first room that presented itself. It turned out to be the library.
The library of Stillhaven was truly ancient, its vast shelves breathing with knowledge, and its wooden floors polished by the centuries. The windows were shuttered, and some of the paintings veiled by dustcovers, as if no one had come here in a while. But to the left of the library lay the salon, and under the door, Narvin could see a sliver of warm light and hear the din of many voices. In the hallways, people were probably searching for whoever had tripped the alarm. Soon they’d discover that he and Leela had escaped the cellar, and a full-sized hunt for them would begin. That only left the hidden staircase that led from the library to the second floor of the house.
“This way-” Narvin began, just as the door to the salon opened and, in a wave of noise and light, someone entered the library and closed the doors behind them.
Narvin, holding back Leela, stared at Eulidia, fully expecting her to call for the guards. But Eulidia breezed by him with a yawn, heading right for the secret staircase. For a moment, he thought they hadn’t been noticed, but then she said over her shoulder,
“I’m glad to see you’re better, Narvin, I was told you regenerated. Although I can’t say it’s much of an improvement.”
“I haven’t regenerated!”
“Oh, more’s the pity,” she shrugged. “Are you coming? I heard someone call for the hounds, it’s probably you they’re looking for.”
He hesitated. “I’m not sure we can trust you.”
Leela stepped forward. “I trust her. She has the voice of one who does not bother with lies.”
*
Eulidia led them up the staircase and into one of the guest bedrooms - evidently her own. The baying of the hounds and the shouts downstairs didn’t seem to concern her one bit, because after locking the door, she sat down in front of the gilded dressing table that dominated the room, folded her hands in her lap and smiled expectantly at both of them.
“Are we safe here?” Leela asked tensely. She still stood with a slight crouch, ready to run or fight at the slightest provocation.
“Not for long,” Narvin said.
“They’ll find you up here within the next thirty microspans,” Eulidia agreed amiably. “So you’d better hurry.”
“You locked the door,” Narvin pointed out, beginning to panic slightly. Eulidia had always tended towards the eccentric side of absentminded genius, but since he’d last seen her, she had grown even stranger. It was impossible to tell if she was fully aware of their situation, or grasped the danger they were in.
“Yes, you don’t want to go down there. The hallways will be swarming with guards already.”
“But then we are trapped!” Leela furiously turned on the spot, glaring blindly at the walls as if she could force them to reveal an escape route to her. “This is useless, Narvin! We must go and fight. I am tired of scurrying away like pigrats in the sewers!”
Eulidia shrugged. “Possibly. I didn’t think about a way for you to escape. That’s your own business. I just wanted to know why you came here. I’m insanely curious. You see, Darkel cut me out completely. She seemed to have this fixed idea that I couldn’t be trusted with politics. Something about me being too much of a scientist. How is that even possible, I ask you? She wouldn’t even let me in on the things that happened at the Academy. I was very angry at her. Anyway, I brought you here so you could tell me what’s going on.”
“Yes, I would also like to know that,” Leela said darkly, at last turning her glower on Narvin. “This is no time to be keeping secrets.”
“Is there ever a time for secrets? They just inhibit the free flow of information, in my opinion,” Eulidia said. “But while you’re mentioning secrets - how about another secret passage? If you want to get to your flyer, that is. I can show you the way, if you tell me everything.”
There was no choice but to admit defeat. Leela would mutiny if he didn’t tell her, and Eulidia, however much she pretended to be above such matters, knew that by dangling the prospect of escape in front of him, she could extort any information she wanted.
“I will tell you everything,” Narvin promised, “once we’re safely in the flyer and back on our way to the Citadel.”
Narvin was surprised when they agreed, but then, neither Eulidia nor Leela were spies. They probably didn’t realize that every minute they gave him to think about this was a minute in which he could formulate a convincing lie. They made their way through the secret passage in silence, always listening for signs that they were being followed. When they emerged, about ten micro-spans later, in the burial field located downhill from the main house, they could see that the CIA flyer, parked among the other vehicles, was only guarded by two men.
“I can take care of them,” Leela said confidently when Narvin described their positions to her. “If I am still ‘authorized to use any force necessary’.”
She didn’t wait for his consent, though, but crept off into the night like a shadow among its own kin, soon nearly invisible but for an occasional swift movement or glimmer of her blade. Then suddenly she stood behind one of the guards, raising an arm as if to embrace him, and with the same motion held his body as he twitched silently and lowered him to the ground. The other guard turned, and whatever he saw made him take a frightened step back, dropping his staser. A moment later, he too was dead, and Leela pulled her knife from his neck.
“She is very efficient,” Eulidia said appreciatively.
Narvin almost objected. He knew what efficient death looked like - it required no more than the pull of a trigger, the push of a button, a word said at the right time. None of that speed and grace, no bloody blade, no deadly embrace. It didn’t require the bright, girlish smile Leela wore when they caught up with her, either, or the stain of blood on her skirt where she had wiped her knife. Leela’s way of killing was not efficient, but watching her, Narvin felt an inkling of what a man like Braxiatel had to feel when he looked at a work of art.
“Very efficient,” he answered.
Part Three
Fandom: the "Gallifrey" audio series
Rating: PG/gen
Length: 19424 words
Spoilers: set between 3.4 "Mindbomb" and 3.5 "Panacea", with no spoilers for series 4
Characters: Narvin, Leela, K9, Romana, OCs
Summary: my morepolitics entry for ficciones, whose prompt was "Leela and Narvin in something buddy-cop style. Preferably with hijinks" - it is certainly a buddycop story, but maybe a little short of hijinks.
Part One
The motherhouse of Stillhaven had been located on a vast estate on the northern slopes of Mount Cadon since time immemorial. Its foundations had been laid before even the mighty citadel had been built, and since then, generations had continued to thrive there, sequestered in the clear, calm air of the mountains, far away from the troubled life of the Capital. It was almost a settlement of its own, housing at any time between twenty and two-hundred cousins of Stillhaven. Narvin had never spent much time on the grounds as a child, and it still surprised him to see how vast they truly were. The land served no purpose - farming had died out long before Rassilon’s time, and hunting, even as a sport, had been out of fashion for millennia. Perhaps in these uncertain times, people would start to build in this isolated area again.
At present, Stillhaven was teeming with people. As he pulled in for the landing, Narvin could see a small fleet of fliers, skippers and other vehicles scattered on the lawn like boats tied to a mooring, with their solar panels and gleaming metal surfaces ablaze in the last sunlight.
Narvin threw one last unhappy glance at Leela. Everyone would recognise her instantly for Romana’s alien bodyguard, on the other hand, Narvin’s black and white CIA robes were just as conspicuous. He could have tried to go incognito, in civilian clothes - he still owned a number of Arcalian robes with which he would have blended in easily among his cousins - but the half-formed plan in his head required the protection of authority. Narvin had therefore chosen his most ostentatious dress uniform, which had gold piping, an impractical sash and a very uncomfortable collar that itched where it came into contact with the faded scars from the bomb blast that had nearly killed him during the war. Still, there was a difference between being impressive and looking as if you were to be the evening’s entertainment.
“Leela,” he said to her in his most imploring tone, “let me do the talking.”
“I have no wish to talk to your tribe,” Leela said, looking rather distracted as she stepped cautiously out of the flyer and onto the grass. For a moment, a smile lit up her features, and she lifted her face towards the sun, basking in its light, then her expression darkened again, and she sighed. “The air smells fresh and bright in this place. I wish I could see the sky.”
“The valley is said to be... picturesque,” Narvin admitted reluctantly.
“That means beautiful?”
He didn’t reply. Leela’s interest had made him take a closer look at the site and everywhere, Narvin saw changes that took his breath away. When Leela noticed his silence, she stepped closer. “Is something wrong?” she asked in low voice.
“The south gate is barricaded,” Narvin said, turning slightly as he spoke, and noticing more changes with each passing moment. “There are scorch marks on the walls, and refugee tents on the lawn. I hadn’t realized the war had come this far.”
“You did not check if your family was well?”
“There was no time,” Narvin snapped. More quietly he added, “And I never thought that Stillhaven would ever see war. These walls have not seen a single shot fired for tens of thousands of years. In my youth, bringing a weapon to an occasion like this would have caused a scandal - now there are armed guards at the door. Gallifrey is- Gallifrey was the galaxy’s oldest peaceful civilisation. There hasn’t been a war fought on Gallifreyan ground for long than it takes most species to develop sentience. We have some of the deadliest, most powerful weapons in the universe, but since the wars fought by Rassilon, we have never used them to conquer or destroy. That is what makes us the greatest civilisation of all, don’t you see, Leela? Peace and stability.”
“No longer the greatest,” Leela said. “War has come to Gallifrey, and now you are no different from the rest of us.”
It smarted - especially as Leela took no pains to hide her satisfaction - but it was true.
“We’re late,” Narvin said, summoning up all the dignity and authority he could muster. “It looks as if most guests have already arrived. Stay close by my side.”
“To ‘watch your back’?” Leela asked as she followed him, still cautious in the unfamiliar terrain.
“Yes, but also to listen closely to what people are saying. Use those instincts of yours, and tell me, quietly, if there is anything suspicious.”
“But if it is this dangerous, why did you not bring along more weapons and people?” Leela asked.
“Later,” Narvin said, because they had reached the entrance of the main court, where, to Narvin’s surprise, a stiff-necked young man in the livery of Stillhaven’s guards was holding a staser and checking invitations.
“Name?” the guard demanded.
“Chief Co-ordinator Narvin of the CIA. I’m on the list.” The guard was hardly paying attention to the list, instead, he was staring, half-mocking, half salacious, at Leela. Narvin narrowed his eyes. “And this is the Lady Leela of Deeptree.”
Leela turned around in instant indignation. “I am no Lady of-”
Narvin discreetly elbowed her in the side, which under any other circumstances, he wouldn’t have dared. “The Lady Leela of Deeptree,” he repeated more loudly, and simply shouldered past the guard, dragging Leela along.
“At this rate, you’ll get us thrown out before we’re even in,” he hissed furiously at Leela.
“But I am no Lady of Deeptree,” she hissed back, shaking him off. “Andred is dead, and I am just Leela of the Sevateem. Is that not enough for you?”
“I’d introduce you as Rassilon’s secret daughter, if I thought it would impress anyone here,” Narvin snapped. “Honestly, you don’t have a subtle bone in your body, do you?”
Leela was prevented from replying by the gong being beaten. The assembled guests stood silently facing the podium where an ancient man in ceremonial robes was beating the gong. Next to the gong, an urn rested on a pedestal. The old man cleared his throat. “In the noble name and solemn memory of Darkellaquistraastrid, I welcome all who have been invited to this wake.”
This ended the ceremonial part of the evening, and Narvin wasn’t disappointed to have missed the rites and speeches. No doubt Darkel had requested a full service with all imaginable pomp. Most of the younger attendants looked shell-shocked into boredom, but the older, savvier family members were already spreading out on the lawn and mingling. Politics and intrigue in her memory - Darkel would have approved.
Before he could even scan the crowd for anyone he suspected of trying to poison him, they were approached by a short, elderly Time Lord. He was ancient, both in this body and in years, but his cheeks retained a vital glow. “Who do I spy with my old eyes?” he exclaimed, laughing at his own pun. “If it isn’t my favourite nephew, little Narvin! How are the bugs these days? Marged still keeps them in the attic, you know. Always going about what a waste it was that you didn’t make a career at the Academy.”
Narvin dearly wished he could have escaped, but his uncle had already latched onto his arm with a skeletal but powerful grip.
“I’m working for the CIA these days, Uncle Pendell,” he said through his teeth.
Pendell had always been Narvin’s least favourite Uncle. The man had been a news broadcaster before his retirement, and was still an incessant prattler who liked nothing better than to drag out everyone’s most embarrassing secrets. Right now, he was winking at Leela.
“Of course, son,” he said to Narvin, “but even a co-ordinator must have hobbies. Though I see you’ve moved on to rather more exotic fauna.”
Leela lifted her chin, glaring at a spot slightly to the left of Pendell’s face. “Careful, old man! I know that word, and I do not like it.”
“And neither do I,” Narvin said quickly to prevent a direct confrontation (it was perfectly true, since hearing ‘exotic’ and Leela mentioned in the same sentence had caused him to flush embarrassingly ever since that thrice-damned fake conference). “Leela is-” damn it, he couldn’t even call her one of his agents, because then Leela would gut him instead of Pendell, “Leela is my personal escort.” No, no, extremely bad, “I mean, she’s my bodyguard. My personal bodyguard.”
Pendell’s brows climbed into the vicinity of his scruffy white hair, and he began to chortle. He lowered his voice, “Well, then I hope she’s got more up her not very ample sleeves than some knives, if you know what I mean.”
Leela took a step closer, “I will show you my knives!”
Whatever else you could say about Pendell, though, he wasn’t a coward. He’d insulted at least five different presidents to their face in his lifetime and lived to tell the tale, and Leela’s fury only caused him to sidestep a little. “Please don’t, my dear, I wouldn’t want to embarrass Narvin. He’s far too good at doing that himself.” Pendell patted Narvin’s shoulder. “Do keep out of trouble, Narvin. There are some people here today who think you’ve rather made a mess of things, politically.”
With that, he turned on his heels, nimbly avoided a servitor with a tray of drinks, and would have been lost in the crowd if Narvin hadn’t followed him.
“Wait a moment,” he gasped, tugging his sleeve from Leela’s grip, and trying to lower his voice again. “Pendell. You said there were some people - but you wouldn’t know who, exactly?”
Mortifying though its delivery had been, Pendell’s warning might actually have been a gesture of friendship. Perhaps he was willing to make another one, and if there was anyone in Stillhaven who knew about rumours, then it was him.
Pendell frowned, and kept his distance. “I should say just about everyone,” he said, no longer genial. “And if you wished to be forgiven, I can’t see why you brought the ex-president’s bodyguard along with you. It seems a little clumsy, politically speaking, even for you. Now excuse me, I have a buffet to attend to.”
Pendell left, and this time, Narvin didn’t attempt to stop him. He felt strangely unsettled by this unexpected development. There were some people among his family whom Narvin would have suspected of trying to kill him if it were practical, but Pendell wasn’t one of them. Was he scared of Darkel’s cronies, or did he simply not care?
“You are surprised,” Leela said, too perceptive as always. “Is your uncle not always this rude?”
“Rude? Yes,” Narvin replied. “But not ruthless.”
He surveyed the crowd once more, noticing who was and who wasn’t obviously staring at them. Over near the podium, the most powerful members of Stillhaven stood in a loose circle of their own - Lady Tamarged, Cardinal Valoxin, Lord Hilding, who was said to be a candidate for the next Inquisitor Prime, and a number of their spouses and closest associates. Pendell had just joined them, and laughed at something Hilding said.
Leela suddenly touched his shoulder. “There is someone watching us,” she whispered. “I can feel it.”
Narvin waved for one of the servitors, using that movement to try and see if Leela was right. But instead of a servitor, he was handed a drink by a woman wearing Arcalian green and an amused smirk. “I see you’re watching the inner circle,” she said. “You should join them, Narvin, you’ve earned your place among them. Even Darkel almost respected you in the end.”
“Stop,” Leela said, her knife halfway out of its sheath. “Do not touch him.”
The woman laughed and handed Leela another glass of wine. “If I were trying to kill Narvin, it wouldn’t be this obvious. Won’t you introduce us, Narvin?”
“Eulidia,” Narvin said flatly. He should have realized that she would be here.
“Chairwoman Eulidia,” she corrected him, “but you may call me Eulidia for old time’s sake. Now who’s your delightfully unlikely accomplice?”
“I am Leela,” Leela said, swallowing a mouthful of wine, “This drink is good Narvin, it is not poisoned.”
“Fascinating,” Eulidia said. “Genetically enhanced taste receptors to make up for her blindness?”
“No, Leela is all natural.” Narvin shifted uncomfortably between them, trying to think of a way to end this conversation quickly. Eulidia might help, but she might just as well be the enemy. Narvin had never understood her. “I’m not here to chat.”
“Of course not,” Eulidia said over the rim of her own glass. “You’re here for the reading of Darkel’s will.”
“Oh,” Leela exclaimed, forgetting to keep her voice down. “So that is why we are here! Darkel had something you want, and she is going to pass it on to her heirs.”
“A fine tongue and a fine mind, too.” Leela seemed momentarily puzzled by the compliment, or perhaps its amused delivery. Eulidia laughed at the sudden silence, glancing from Leela to Narvin. “I think Darkel was wrong about you, Narvin. She thought that President Romana had bewitched you with her girlish charms, but clearly Romana’s side had more to offer than that.”
Narvin choked on his wine. “Darkel thought what?”
“I told her it was ridiculous, but Darkel was always fond of you in her own way. I remember when she kept going on about what a politically advantageous match you might one day be if you had someone to help you along with your career in the CIA...”
“Someone to help me along...?! All Darkel ever did was use me for her own gain!” Narvin sputtered.
“Yes,” Eulidia nodded, “dear old Darkel. I shall miss her, now and then.”
With that, she wandered gracefully off into the crowd, leaving Narvin to stare open-mouthed after her. Leela, who had finished her wine and dropped the glass on the ground, still looked puzzled. “Romana is not a witch! And what did she mean by ‘had more to offer’?”
“I doubt she meant anything at all. She was most likely having a laugh at our expense,” Narvin said darkly.
Leela shook her head. “I cannot tell if this woman was a friend or foe, and yet... I think she likes you. It is very strange... I do not think I have ever met someone who likes you.”
“I doubt she does,” Narvin muttered. He was still insulted by Eulidia’s ridiculous insinuations, but something she’d said had jogged a memory, and he was beginning to understand just how long Darkel had been trying to use him. She must have known, from the moment he joined the CIA, that he could be her in-road into a world that House Stillhaven had little connection with otherwise.
Leela was apparently unwilling to let the matter go. “She does not like you? Why?”
“Because she’s Darkel’s sister. And I nearly married her, once.”
Leela laughed out loud. “Eulidia was your betrothed? Was it a ‘political’ marriage?”
On Eulidia’s side it would certainly have been a political marriage. They’d known each other since childhood, but Eulidia had never shown any romantic interest in him until he’d joined the CIA. Her sudden interest had made sense to Narvin then - he’d been young, inexperienced and entirely too gullible to see Darkel pulling the strings. His best guess had been that women simply found spies more attractive than data technicians, and that even Eulidia, however sensible otherwise, could not help but fall for the dangerous charm of his new profession. Naturally he’d been pleased, then flattered, then smug. He’d even flirted with the idea of becoming respected and popular. The bubble had burst when Eulidia had broken off the engagement.
“I’m sure you’ll have a brilliant career as a spy, Narvin,” she’d said to him, “but I find this whole business of political marriage too tedious for words.” It had been mortifying, even hurtful, but in hindsight, Narvin could appreciate that a little cynicism went a long way in the CIA. From that day on, he’d never again wasted a thought on popularity, power or personal glory. He’d focused entirely on his career for its own sake, and eventually, found the service more fulfilling than marriage could ever have been. Without Eulidia, he might never have been the agent he was, but with her as his wife, he might indeed have been precisely the vain and corruptible man Darkel had wished him to be.
“Yes,” Narvin said in answer to Leela’s question, feeling a cold shiver at the thought of the path his life could have taken. “It would have been a political marriage.”
*
In hindsight, Leela was beginning to appreciate Andred’s family. When they had been newly married, she had asked him not to make her be friends with his family, because, although some his people had made a token effort to welcome her, Leela had known she would never fit in with them, at least not happily. But at least they had loved Andred enough to accept his chosen mate.
Narvin’s family, however, could only be compared to a pit full of hoarders. She was almost glad when the gong was beaten again and they were called to order by an elder of the tribe who announced that Darkel’s will would now be read. It bothered Leela that she still didn’t know what Narvin had come here for. If it belonged to Darkel, and if Narvin wanted it, then it could only be something dangerous. Perhaps one of Pandora’s secret weapons? She wished she could see, and she wished she had a better idea of her surroundings, in case they had to flee. And she would have given almost anything for K-9 to be at her side.
The list of things Darkel had owned was very long, and she had apparently bequeathed each and every last thing to a different one of her relatives. Leela found it very tiresome. Why divide your possessions thus? And who would want to own Darkel’s robes, anyway? With each item, Narvin seemed to grow more agitated, muttering to himself in a low voice about Darkel being a sly and devious woman.
Leela leaned close to him to whisper in his ear, “Is that which we came for not on the list?”
Narvin startled. “I fear Darkel may have anticipated my presence. Any number of those chests and scrolls and ceremonial hats could contain it.”
“So what do we do?”
“There’s only one thing we can do,” he said grimly.
“Will there be a fight?” Leela would well have liked to cut up a few of Narvin’s tribe, but she feared they would be outnumbered.
“Let’s hope not. But if you must, as the Co-ordinator of the CIA I authorize you to use any force necessary.” He pressed a small staser into her hand.
Leela took a deep breath. It would be good to die here, under the open sky, with grass beneath her feet and the clear night air cooling her face. “So be it, then,” she said.
When the elder neared the end of the will, Narvin started forward, pushing his way through the crowd. Leela followed him, gripping the sleeve of his robe with one hand and doing her best to appear threatening to those around them. They broke free of the crowd close to the speaker, who stopped in the middle of his speech to clear his throat in annoyance and demand, “What’s all this commotion about?”
“I’m sorry, Drower,” Narvin said, raising his voice over the murmuring crowd, “but I hereby declare this meeting unlawful under article 237 of the constitution of Gallifrey.”
“Two-hundred and thirty-seven?” someone wheezed indignantly to Leela’s right. “What does that youngster think he’s getting at?”
“Two-hundred and thirty-seven,” Narvin confirmed, and Leela could tell that he was grimly enjoying this. “Under the provision of Emergency Law, any assembly of more than ten people has to be authorized by the High Council, the Castellan, or the CIA, otherwise all present are suspect of high treason.”
“Under Emergency Law,” a female voice objected. “But we’re not!”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Cardinal Drella.” Narvin stepped up onto the podium. “President Matthias has only been in office for three days, and he has not, officially, declared that we’re no longer in a State of Emergency. As the highest legal authority in this place, I am well within my right to disperse this assembly and to confiscate all the items on this list.”
An outcry rose among the mourners, but none dared threaten Narvin directly. For a moment, Leela thought he might have won this battle with nothing but words. Then the elder cleared his throat again, thumped something heavy on the ground.
“As I was about to say,” he continued, “the last item on this list reads, ‘Should my cousin Narvin do me the honour of attending this reading, I leave to him the key to my vaults.’”
Narvin stilled. “Oh. Well. That’s... unexpected.”
“No!” Leela shouted, and tried to pull him back, but it was too late. Even as she grabbed him, there was a loud crack, Narvin twitched under her hands, and they both went down. Leela jumped back to her feet, wildly pointing her staser in every direction. “Off!” she yelled. “Get away from me, or I will shoot!”
Something pricked her shoulder, no more painful than a gnat’s bite. By the time Leela realised that it was poison, her legs gave out under her and she joined Narvin on the ground.
*
For a while, Leela thought Narvin might be dead, but then she heard him breathe again, and finally come to with a soft moan.
“Narvin?” she called out as loud as she dared, not knowing who might be nearby and listening. All Leela could tell was that they were somewhere cold and underground, probably a cellar or a dungeon, and that there were heavy chains around her wrists, shackling her to something heavy and wooden. “Wake up!”
Narvin mumbled something, then started awake. “The key!”
“Why did you touch it? It was Darkel’s - of course it was a trap!”
“Because it looked like - never mind. Where are we?”
“I cannot see.” Leela rattled her chains angrily. “Someone pricked me with a poison thorn, and I fainted. When I woke up, I heard them say that they were taking you to a doctor, but this is not a healing place.”
Narvin sniffed. “No, smells more like the wine cellar. It was probably a ruse... which means that not everyone at the wake was aware that people are trying to kill me. Someone’s covering this up. But I’m surprised my mother would fall for it...”
A door creaked in its handles, and people approached. Two, Leela thought, listening to their steps and the sweeps of their robes: one of them puffing and short of breath, like an old person, one of them wearing heavy boots, probably a guard.
“So you are awake again, Narvin,” a woman said. She sounded old, like one who speaks with wisdom and authority, or perhaps only great power.
“Lady Tamarged,” Narvin said softly. For the first time today, he sounded not just surprised, but insecure.
“I wouldn’t believe it when Darkel said it,” the woman continued sharply, “but you are a disgrace to your House, Narvin. I loomed you myself, and this is your thanks? Declaring us all traitors? Besmirching the memory of one far greater than you, one who brought nothing but fame to Stillhaven? And for what? A President who would have dragged Gallifrey to ruin, had she not been stopped by Darkel.”
“Are you aware,” Narvin interrupted her, high-pitched and tense, “that the key was a trap engineered by me for Darkel? And someone here poisoned my invitation! Or are you telling me you authorized all this?”
“Not the letter,” Tamarged said coldly, “but now I wish that fool Kelner hadn’t failed. It would have saved me the pain of looking at you now. As it is, I’ve made certain arrangements. You’ll soon see the error of your ways, Narvin, and then we may talk about how you can regain my trust.”
Narvin’s breath hitched. “Arrangements?”
“Cardinal Valoxin has kindly promised to lend me one of the Academy’s emergency regeneration chambers. Until then, I recommend you meditate on your mistakes and prepare yourself for a fresh start.”
Narvin made no reply.
“What about me?” Leela demanded. “You cannot let me rot down here! Give me a honourable death, a fight-”
Tamarged’s voice was laced with disgust. “I’ll let Narvin decide that, once he’s come to his senses. I think it’ll prove... cathartic.”
Their footsteps were fading in the distance before Leela spoke again, softly this time. “That woman - she was your mother?”
“Yes.”
Leela hesitated. Her own mother had died when she was not yet of age, and she had only faint memories of her, but they were loving and dear to her. She could not imagine how a mother could ever act like this towards her own child, even a Time Lady. “Will they kill you? With this ‘emergency regeneration chamber’?”
“No.” Narvin sounded as if he had to force himself to speak. “No, it’s a device used to induce forced regeneration. It’s usually used as a form of punishment less extreme than dispersion, or in medical emergencies. It... it seems my mother thinks I’ll change my mind once I’ve regenerated.”
“Oh.” Regeneration sounded like a terrible punishment to Leela, worse than dispersal, which only killed you. Regeneration meant that you lived on, yourself and yet not yourself, like a ghost or a revenant haunting your own life. She would have preferred a hundred deaths to regeneration.
Narvin suddenly laughed, the sound echoing hollowly in the cellar. “Forced regeneration! It’s something you do to degenerates, to madmen. This is utterly ridiculous. I won’t change my mind about what is right because of I’ve regenerated!”
“Andred did.”
“It wasn’t Andred’s regeneration that changed him so radically, it was what he did afterwards. He became who he pretended to be.” Narvin paused. His tone became intrigued. “Although... that gives me an idea. It might just work. I can pretend to come to my senses and beg my mother for forgiveness - and get right at Darkel’s plans! Don’t worry, I’ll find a way to convince her that you’re more useful to her alive than dead, you’ll just have to play along with whatever I say...”
Leela strained against the chains around her wrists so hard it hurt. “No! What if you end up like Andred, becoming who you pretend to be? You cannot risk that!”
“Oh please.” Narvin chuckled, slightly hysterical. “Andred took things far too personally, that’s why he became so confused. I, on the other hand will keep a cool and rational distance between me and my act. I’m not on some sort of ill-considered personal crusade here, I’m merely doing my job.”
“Why do you pretend not to care?” Leela exclaimed. “You do not have to lie to me! I know what it is like when your tribe wants to kill you for being right because they are all wrong and will not change their minds. Standing up against those you love is like cutting your own heart out with a dull knife.”
“You clearly haven’t the slightest notion of what family means on Gallifrey, so please stop making these utterly unfounded assumptions about my emotional state.” He laughed dully. “Love! What did Andred tell you about us? A Gallifreyan child is expected to be loyal towards his House, respectful. Love has nothing to do with it.”
“It has everything to do with love! How can you be loyal if you do not love? Without love, what you call loyalty is only blind obedience. And how can you love what you do not respect? Without respect, love is only... I do not know what it is. But it is not love.”
*
They were left alone. Narvin’s comlink had been taken away while he was unconscious, so they could not try to get any outside help, and the chains apparently proved to be too strong even for Leela, who would not stop pulling and squirming, exerting herself to no avail.
Narvin closed his eyes and tried to meditate as his mother had told him. A regeneration was always easier when you were calm and prepared. Ordinarily, Narvin had little use for meditation - his mind, when left to its own devices, tended to seize on the nearest worry until he grew entirely too agitated to achieve any sort of mental balance. But right now, Narvin’s mind felt blank, and all he had to do was let it drift.
He ended up thinking about Leela’s strange ideas about love. They weren’t what he’d expected from her. He’d always assumed that she was one of those romantic, sentimental fools for whom everything was a matter of passion and feeling, inconstant, violent, uncontrolled - after all, she had married for love into a society she could hardly understand.
But if you could substitute love for respect, for loyalty, then it changed everything. If that was what Leela meant by love, then they merely spoke different languages while meaning the same thing. He had never considered it before because Leela’s behaviour was always brash and emotional, but she did insist that she was a warrior, and that, in a primitive, tribal society like hers had to mean more than combat training. It was a way of life - not law, precisely, more a code of conduct, of honour. She would have been raised to depend on her fellow warriors and be dependable in return - a loyalty that could not be enforced, but had to be based on mutual trust, respect, a sort of love even. To ensure survival of the tribe, you had to value everyone in it as highly as yourself, there could be no selfishness, no radical individualism. Of course, such a system could never work on a larger scale. A society like Gallifrey survived not because it stood united, but because it had different factions balancing each other, their struggle leading to a slow but steady progress. And yet... Narvin would never have called himself a romantic, but there was something about Leela’s simple, tribal code of honour that sounded terribly appealing.
The chink of metal on stone startled him out of his thoughts.
“Finally,” Leela hissed, getting to her feet and rubbing her sore wrists. The chains lay useless on the floor - she appeared to have wriggled out of them rather than breaking them. She turned to him, her expression dark. “I have lost Andred, and my K-9 and I may be losing Romana soon. I will not lose another friend.”
Narvin blinked. “I wasn’t aware you considered me a friend.”
“Be quiet and help me with this,” Leela muttered, and started to work on his chains.
*
They managed to escape the cellar before his mother returned, and quickly agreed that they had to get back to the flyer. Narvin hoped that his mother hadn’t got rid of it, but if her plan was to make it look as if an accident at the wake had caused him to regenerate, she would have no reason to do so. Presumably her plans for him were that - however she intended to use Darkel’s inheritance, - he would return to his duties as Co-ordinator, effectively bringing the CIA under Stillhaven’s control.
He and Leela were on the ground floor and nearing one of the servants’ exits when they tripped the first alarm. Leela jumped like a startled cat, drawing her knife in an instant. Then heavy footsteps closed in on them from two sides of the hall. Panicked, Narvin grabbed Leela and dragged her into the first room that presented itself. It turned out to be the library.
The library of Stillhaven was truly ancient, its vast shelves breathing with knowledge, and its wooden floors polished by the centuries. The windows were shuttered, and some of the paintings veiled by dustcovers, as if no one had come here in a while. But to the left of the library lay the salon, and under the door, Narvin could see a sliver of warm light and hear the din of many voices. In the hallways, people were probably searching for whoever had tripped the alarm. Soon they’d discover that he and Leela had escaped the cellar, and a full-sized hunt for them would begin. That only left the hidden staircase that led from the library to the second floor of the house.
“This way-” Narvin began, just as the door to the salon opened and, in a wave of noise and light, someone entered the library and closed the doors behind them.
Narvin, holding back Leela, stared at Eulidia, fully expecting her to call for the guards. But Eulidia breezed by him with a yawn, heading right for the secret staircase. For a moment, he thought they hadn’t been noticed, but then she said over her shoulder,
“I’m glad to see you’re better, Narvin, I was told you regenerated. Although I can’t say it’s much of an improvement.”
“I haven’t regenerated!”
“Oh, more’s the pity,” she shrugged. “Are you coming? I heard someone call for the hounds, it’s probably you they’re looking for.”
He hesitated. “I’m not sure we can trust you.”
Leela stepped forward. “I trust her. She has the voice of one who does not bother with lies.”
*
Eulidia led them up the staircase and into one of the guest bedrooms - evidently her own. The baying of the hounds and the shouts downstairs didn’t seem to concern her one bit, because after locking the door, she sat down in front of the gilded dressing table that dominated the room, folded her hands in her lap and smiled expectantly at both of them.
“Are we safe here?” Leela asked tensely. She still stood with a slight crouch, ready to run or fight at the slightest provocation.
“Not for long,” Narvin said.
“They’ll find you up here within the next thirty microspans,” Eulidia agreed amiably. “So you’d better hurry.”
“You locked the door,” Narvin pointed out, beginning to panic slightly. Eulidia had always tended towards the eccentric side of absentminded genius, but since he’d last seen her, she had grown even stranger. It was impossible to tell if she was fully aware of their situation, or grasped the danger they were in.
“Yes, you don’t want to go down there. The hallways will be swarming with guards already.”
“But then we are trapped!” Leela furiously turned on the spot, glaring blindly at the walls as if she could force them to reveal an escape route to her. “This is useless, Narvin! We must go and fight. I am tired of scurrying away like pigrats in the sewers!”
Eulidia shrugged. “Possibly. I didn’t think about a way for you to escape. That’s your own business. I just wanted to know why you came here. I’m insanely curious. You see, Darkel cut me out completely. She seemed to have this fixed idea that I couldn’t be trusted with politics. Something about me being too much of a scientist. How is that even possible, I ask you? She wouldn’t even let me in on the things that happened at the Academy. I was very angry at her. Anyway, I brought you here so you could tell me what’s going on.”
“Yes, I would also like to know that,” Leela said darkly, at last turning her glower on Narvin. “This is no time to be keeping secrets.”
“Is there ever a time for secrets? They just inhibit the free flow of information, in my opinion,” Eulidia said. “But while you’re mentioning secrets - how about another secret passage? If you want to get to your flyer, that is. I can show you the way, if you tell me everything.”
There was no choice but to admit defeat. Leela would mutiny if he didn’t tell her, and Eulidia, however much she pretended to be above such matters, knew that by dangling the prospect of escape in front of him, she could extort any information she wanted.
“I will tell you everything,” Narvin promised, “once we’re safely in the flyer and back on our way to the Citadel.”
Narvin was surprised when they agreed, but then, neither Eulidia nor Leela were spies. They probably didn’t realize that every minute they gave him to think about this was a minute in which he could formulate a convincing lie. They made their way through the secret passage in silence, always listening for signs that they were being followed. When they emerged, about ten micro-spans later, in the burial field located downhill from the main house, they could see that the CIA flyer, parked among the other vehicles, was only guarded by two men.
“I can take care of them,” Leela said confidently when Narvin described their positions to her. “If I am still ‘authorized to use any force necessary’.”
She didn’t wait for his consent, though, but crept off into the night like a shadow among its own kin, soon nearly invisible but for an occasional swift movement or glimmer of her blade. Then suddenly she stood behind one of the guards, raising an arm as if to embrace him, and with the same motion held his body as he twitched silently and lowered him to the ground. The other guard turned, and whatever he saw made him take a frightened step back, dropping his staser. A moment later, he too was dead, and Leela pulled her knife from his neck.
“She is very efficient,” Eulidia said appreciatively.
Narvin almost objected. He knew what efficient death looked like - it required no more than the pull of a trigger, the push of a button, a word said at the right time. None of that speed and grace, no bloody blade, no deadly embrace. It didn’t require the bright, girlish smile Leela wore when they caught up with her, either, or the stain of blood on her skirt where she had wiped her knife. Leela’s way of killing was not efficient, but watching her, Narvin felt an inkling of what a man like Braxiatel had to feel when he looked at a work of art.
“Very efficient,” he answered.
Part Three