Trap of the Toymaker: 6
Chapter 5:
“With a flash of irritation, the Doctor saw that the little man was looking round him with cheerful interest, like a tourist on a sight-seeing trip. Didn't the fellow take anything seriously? The Doctor found it difficult to realise that this scruffy, rather comical figure was an earlier version of himself. He felt this second Doctor was like a sort of younger brother, with a number of rather irritating mannerisms that he himself had outgrown.”
--The Third Doctor, in THE THREE DOCTORS
In the old days, the Before was beautiful. Even the youngest child had no fear of the complete lack of light. Getting lost was the only thing to worry about, and how often did children worry?
She remembered those days, back when she was not the Matrician, but known as Four. She would sit with her siblings in a curled-up circle under the travelling wagons, lighting tiny candles that sparkled and waved with the force of their speech. The Before was comforting; they looked forward to it. They loved it. They would even sit alone, eyes closed against the darkness, smelling the sweetness of the wind on their cheeks, and the low dulcet calls of the flying creatures.
How she missed those days.
It was as if she and the planet had both lost their innocence. The complete absence of light was now something to fear. It made fear where there had been none. None of her children had the slightest fathoming of what it meant in those days.
Of course, when she had been Four, she would have never dreamed the world would turn upside down.
Inside the caravan, the Doctor was waiting for Zὅe to wake up. From the small twitches and fits and bits of mutter she was beginning to show, it wouldn't be long.
First watching Jamie sleep, now Zὅe. And before that, he had watched over Susan.
...and before Susan...
The little man sighed sadly. He was still considered young-far too young to be yomping about the Universes of Time and Space without another Time Lord. And yet he suspected that age in his case was just a number. He had lived in his 460 years with more zeal and enthusiasm than anyone else he knew. Young, yes-but an experienced young.
Experience...
Zὅe twitched in her sleep again, and her face creased. She was not having a pleasant time of it. He reached out and gently rested his hand upon her shoulder, allowing the contact to slowly drift into her muddled awareness.
Experience. I have to make experience for the sake of my futureselves...if indeed I ever live long enough to have them! Time always tells, doesn't it?
He was a rebel. A loathed, despised example of his species. His House had doubtless stripped his name from their banners and burnt his public records in their Pyres of Oblivion. The family he had left knew better than to ever hope to seek him again-even his brother and mother. They had both been rebels...but they were able to hide their natural selves from society.
The Doctor had never held that capacity. Sometimes he wondered that of all his crimes, it would be his inability to lie about himself that they hated about him the most.
Yes, I am young, but I have been an Ambassador. A son. A husband. A father and grandfather. I have been a loyal son of Gallifrey-and I still am, for I will never betray Gallifrey even if they catch me and sentence me to death. I am a wanderer, a drifting vagabond of curiosity. I want to see all of Creation and experience it. What was I on Gallifrey? A struggling clerk, damned by his poor grades. I was a dusty academic. I longed for the stars all my life but could never touch them. And now I can. And I only regret that I cannot share the things I have seen with my people-who can take apart an organism but have forgotten what it means to be alive.
“Doctor...”
He looked down swiftly. Zὅe was blinking. Her long brown hair was tangling in her eyes as she fought through tendrils of sleep.
“I'm right here, Zὅe. Now, be careful,” he cautioned. “Do be careful,” he repeated. “You've had quite a shock but you're completely safe.”
She heard him; or she heard the warmth in his voice and turned to it like a flower to the sun. He released the breath he was holding, again grateful to their rescuers. They had truly done them a good turn. He was positive their lives hadn't been in danger, but Zὅe's reaction to the darkness had been completely out of his calculations.
The Doctor did not like being wrong. It always brought back the old, haunting days of his youth and how his classmates had been so eager to watch his every move, all the better to write down his next humiliation.
But...he did try very hard to admit to his mistakes (except for when it came to the TARDIS; he was positive that any criticism on his part to her navigational systems would lead to terrible trouble for him, based on a few hair-lifting experiences. She certainly never pitched a fit when any of his companions scoffed at her).
But when it came to a miscalculation of this nature?
He'd missed something about Zὅe. Best he admit to it and free her from that part of the trauma.
“Doctor?” She whispered. Her large eyes were wide and confused, but her mind was already reaching out to quantify and calculate and map out this new world of consciousness. “Where...are we?”
“Take it easy, Zὅe, we're with friends-I think.” He corrected hastily. “They heard you scream and found us...brought us here.” He looked around the tiny room. “It's a caravan. A house on wheels.”
She sat up slowly, looking back and forth with some of her familiar old curiosity coming back. That was reassuring. He leaned back and picked up the waiting tea-bowl “Small sips.” He advised. “It ought to clear your head.”
“Oh. Thank you, Doctor.” She sniffed the steam and clearly liked the result. Slowly, she did as she was told, and her shoulders relaxed as she handed back the empty vessel.
“I'm very sorry, Zὅe. I didn't know it would affect you so-but then, I didn't know it would be quite...like that.”
“It wasn't just the dark.” She stopped and looked down. “It was quiet. So quiet. And I couldn't feel anything.”
“No?” The Doctor had felt plenty when Darkness Fell. Mostly Zὅe's tiny fingers digging bruises into his flesh. He'd also felt the painful scrape of dry reedlike-stalks of the plants he'd landed on when Zὅe's collision into his chest had thrown him on to his back.
“No. I couldn't feel anything. There wasn't anything to feel.” She moved her head slightly, burying her face deeper into the crook of his neck. He held her tiny body, felt her trembling. “Why?”
“I think it's because you had a shock, Zὅe.” He offered carefully. If she had been shocked, then she wouldn't have been able to feel anything but terror.
“But why?” She asked plaintively. “I have no reason to be afraid of darkness. It's just an absence of light. I know what that is.”
Because she wasn't afraid of something she knew.
“I...I don't know, Zὅe, except...perhaps,” here he spoke carefully, “Something about the Darkness evoked something. It's a common phenomenon and I'm afraid it tends to be poorly understood and rarely researched.”
She went stiff as a board under his arms, but just as he opened his mouth to ask why, she slowly relaxed. Deliberately relaxed.
“Yes, it is.” Zὅe agreed, and the flesh at the back of the Doctor's neck crept up in a warning chill. Zὅe sounded just like she did back on the Wheel. “You're right, Doctor. It's a common phenomenon. Possibly something I experienced as a child and forgot. Because it wasn't important. I don't forget things. I never forget things.”
“Yes, that sounds likely, doesn't it?” The Doctor agreed with her agreement in a show of false cheer. Inwardly, he was promising to keep a close eye on the young girl.
She pulled back, and the little lamps lit the glitter of tears drying on her face. “I feel so silly now.”
“There's no shame in being silly, you know.” He scolded.
“Well, of course you'd say that.”
“Of course I say that! It's every bit true!” He tried to look affronted as she started to laugh. Then he gave in and laughed with her.
Oh, dear. Something in Zὅe's memories had been long-buried and it was possible it had been for a reason.
“You are awake.”
The woman didn't stand in the doorway as much as she seemed to claim it like a hostile territory in need of a thrashing. Zὅe's already wide eyes grew wider as she observed her-and noting even the smallest detail, the Doctor knew.
“I do not know your faces,” the woman said formally. “But I am the Matrician for the E-mm Clan. We heard your cry and chose to help.”
What strange wording, Zὅe had time to think, just before the Doctor suddenly brightened, his body cracking into an upright posture in less than a second.
“Oh!” The Doctor gasped for breath, clutching at his chest as his ribs heaved under the weight of air. “Oh, my goodness!” He exclaimed. “Now I've got it! You are the Reapt! I don't know why I didn't realise it before!” With his usual heedless enthusiasm he hopped up and came forward, shaking the dark woman's hand with all the delight of a child given a day with their favorite celebrity. “Thank you very much!”
“Well, we certainly couldn't leave you out there.” The older woman said sensibly. Despite the shaken demeanor prevailing, she was keeping a regal composure. Zὅe thought she looked like a Queen. A Queen that seemed fascinated with their wrists and throat and faces, for she kept studying those parts with an odd intent. “My Children, get them more hot drinks and some nourishment.”
The boys in question-grown men-had been waiting outside and Zὅe hadn't seen them at all; her heavily robed body had blocked everything, even the sight of the outside. They jumped with guilty expressions and rushed to obey. “Yes, Mother!” They exclaimed. It seemed unbelievable that the caravan could hold them all, but a banging and clanking soon erupted from outside the walls.
“Oh, but we couldn't intrude--” the Doctor began shyly. It was one of his more endearing qualities to Zὅe; his ability to wander in, get involved, and next thing you knew, he was apologizing for all the troubles.
“Nonsense. One's encounter with the Darkness is always a...memorable one.” The Matrician re-settled into her chair and leaned her chin into her forehand thoughtfully. She looked human enough, but Zὅe felt she was more...like the Doctor. There was a sense about her that spoke of age and wisdom. “You're curious to me,” she admitted at length. “I am rarely curious for trifles but you would have me think you are trifles.”
“Well, what another person thinks is their own business, Madam.” The Doctor smiled bravely. He dropped politely into a crosslegged pose upon the floor, but his small hands twisted nervously inside his silk kerchief and he kept glancing down. “I have all I can do with my own.” His face cleared with sadness. “As I said, we are here for a purpose. We are here to see if we can help a friend of ours.”
“A friend?” Was the gently skeptical answer.
“Yes...he was taken ill and we had hopes he could recover at the medical facilities at the City...that is, if their reputation is what we were led to believe.”
“That is quite possible.” The Matriarch informed him, and when Zὅe gasped in relief, those sharp eyes glanced at her, razor-swift. “The facilities are unmatched here...but he is only a friend?” That last part was said hesitantly, as if for the first time, this woman was unsure of the conversation's footing.
“Only a friend?” The Doctor quite forgot himself and stood up, swelling with his indignity as his hands fell to his sides. “There's no only about it! And I assure you our being here is nothing more than that!”
“Of course, and forgive me.” Was the smooth rejoiner. “Your wording has left me puzzled. I am sure we will breach this gaps in communication in time.” The men returned with the drinks, in bowls sculpted along an odd slant, and two round loaves of bread wrapped in cloth. They appeared to be lopsided. These were pressed into the newcomers' hands. Zὅe sighed as the warmth soaked into her palms. It smelled sweetish, like vanilla beans and black tea without the astringent tannins.
“Er...thank you.” The Doctor glanced down and took a cautious sip around the heat.
“There is no poison, I assure you.” The Matrician was amused.
“I...beg your pardon??”
“You tasted the drink first, to see if it was safe for your daughter.”
“Oh?”
“You must be very proud of her.”
“Well, of course I am.” He cleared his throat. “One can't be too careful these days...allergies you know. And there's already been a shock with the Darkness.”
“Ah, of course. Here you are, Zὅe. You have to tilt the cup up-like this--” He demonstrated, “And sip very slowly and lightly to one side. It doesn't matter which side, as I recall.” He glanced at the elder woman and received a smile for an answer. “No, it doesn't. The important thing is to drink with appropriate respect to the beverage, for it is brewed from leaves that were once alive, but yet still have something of life in them. Not to mention, if you sip to the side you have less of a chance of burning your mouth as it's only polite to serve the cups while they are still hot enough to melt boron.” He passed Zὅe a wry smile before dropping his voice-and his decibels-by 70%. “They're Rimorzi, Zὅe,” he whispered under his breath, but to all appearances, was instructing her how to conform to protocols by the proper sipping of the drink. “Very prim and proper. Manners mean more to them than anything else.”
“Thank you, Doctor.” Zὅe said softly. But her face was strange.
“The bread is best kept upon the lap, in the middle of its napkin. Break off pieces as you need them, and if it is too much, just roll it all up inside the napkin for storage. One loaf of this bread can keep you fed for an entire day.”
“The Dark shall be lifting soon.” The Matrician reassured them. “I assure you it will take you less time if you travel with us. And your presence will not be a burden.”
“We are most grateful.” The Doctor bowed from the neck with one of his charming smiles. Part of his ability to worm himself into the oddest of acquaintances was his genuine delight to meet people. Zὅe was convinced it was the secret to the undercurrent of joy that ran through him like a low-voltage wire. It also made friends of the most unexpected people.
“Zὅe, the Rimorzi are one of the oldest races in the Universe. They can live a very long time and they choose to spend that time very wisely.” He coughed slightly. “The pursuit of learning is quite appreciated here. It is never mocked or taken lightly.”
“Oh, how wonderful.” Zὅe breathed, which collected her first blink of surprise from their host.
“The Rimorzi have several forms of government, most of it through election in selected families known for their ability to work well with others as well as make intelligent decisions. These are called the Reapt. It is a very distinguished honour to be elected.” He turned to look at the softly-smiling woman in her chair. “Did I miss anything?” He asked innocently.
“I believe you have it.” Her mouth twitched. “It is true we are very old. Some say we are one of the oldest races in the Universe. I only know that I have not met all of the races, so I cannot say for certain.” She tipped her head to one side. “I do know that as we have retired from the public eye, so to speak, other races have begun...to forget about it.” There was no sadness. She was just stating a fact. “This world is one of the few planets we call home. It is quiet and peaceful, and it allows us to pursue our Art with glass.”
“It must take a long time to travel here.” The Doctor noted.
“It does, but...when one lives a long time, how much time does one need?” The shrug was philosophical. “If you do not mind, I shall see to my sons. They are preparing for the end of the Dark.”
Zὅe shook her head, slightly dazed. “I...” She began. “She seems...quite remarkable.”
“Yes. Yes she is.” The Doctor was openly admiring. He came to himself and smiled. “It looks like we're about to enter the city in style!”
“It looks that way.”
“Zὅe? Are you still feeling the effects of...”
“Oh. No. No, Doctor. Not at all.” Zὅe pinked. “I'm just...” Zὅe glanced down at the tops of her feet. “It just felt strange. No one's ever been proud of me...and I can't remember if anyone called me their daughter before. I don't know if it's bad or good.”
“Oh.” His worn face opened in comprehension. “Oh, I'm sorry, Zὅe. But you know, I wasn't lying.”
“No?”
“No, of course not. To their eyes we look like genetic family-and among the Rimorzi, family is really the only social bond that exists. If I had not claimed you as kin, things...might have gone very badly.” His kind, gentle face looked sad. “They are an old race, as I said. And some of their definitions of...one's working relationship with others can be...outdated.”
“Outdated?”
“Do you remember the Dominators?”
“They would have thought I was your slave?” Zὅe choked. “When she was looking at our necks and wrists...she was looking...for marks?”
“Or...I was yours, keeping my young mistress out of danger and doing a terrible job of it.” His voice was low and grim. “Some of their political factions are not averse to producing justice on part of someone else's slaves-the better to ensure the status quo, you see.”
“Oh, no!”
“But it's all right-” He sighed. “I've muddled it up about Jamie; it will have to be sorted out soon enough. But as far as anyone's concerned, I'm your father and you're my daughter.”
“What about my mother?”
“If we don't mention her, that will never be broached. They only discuss parenting at length when they're plotting one of their millions of marriages!” he shuddered. “And our House is unknown to them; only a stupendously ambitious House would think about brokering a marriage with either of us.”
Zὅe privately thought “ambitious” described the Matrician quite well, but she felt the Doctor was skittish enough as it was.
“Zὅe, anyone would be proud to say you were their daughter.” he gently grasped her shoulders. “Anyone.”
Zὅe sniffed. “I need to think about that, Doctor. It's a very new thought!”
“Then I am pleased that I could give you one.” He gave her a brief hug and considerately turned to his bread, leaving her with her jumbled up thoughts.