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The Master s hands moved swiftly to the controls of the
metamorphosis projector. Something was happening to
Karelion.  There is energy around you, he called to the
stranded automaton.  Use it! He boosted the machine to
the overload threshold and groaned as the power went out
of himself.  Come, my slave! he cried.  Be at one with me!
Kamelion, glittering like a Maltese tinfoil Saint at Festa
time, turned slowly to the six old men prostrate in the dirt
before him.
 Welcome to our city, Outsider, said one of the old men
in a trembling voice.
 Who are you? asked the robot.
 Timanov, Chief Elder of the Sarns. His outstretched
arms shook. Tears filled his eyes.  I have struggled to keep
the faith alive. He looked up at the seraphic figure.  I
never thought I would live to see this day, but Logar is
just...
The Master laughed.  We shall use these superstitious
fools. He gazed at the coherer which now gave back the
true image of the renegade Time Lord.
The Elders gasped as the radiance died and revealed a
stranger in a dark suit. A complete Outsider.
The Kamelion-Master, secure again in his identity, was
more than willing to be escorted to the city, where he was
sure to find the girl Peri and the Doctor, to whom she
would have gone running with the comparator. His old
enemy was in for a considerable surprise.
 We have grown lax with our observances, said
Timanov penitently as they walked back towards the city.
 But all that will change. There will be regular burnings.
The protestations of loyalty from the Elders delighted
the Master and he smiled, for the prospect of burnings
pleased him mightily.  You must root out the enemies of
Logar, he exhorted the Chief Elder. turning to take hold
of one of the old men s staves. (He could only guess how
laser guns had come into the hands of primitives but he
would enjoy explaining their proper use.)  There is one
supreme enemy... the Master chuckled.  He calls himself
the Doctor.
It was a mistake, the Doctor decided, to have left Professor
Foster in the TARDIS. He would have appreciated the
archaeologist s company walking in the ancient streets of
Sarn, and he would have relished the connoisseur s
opinion of the faded grandeur of this desert metropolis. It
reminded him (the professor would surely have agreed) of
the old Roman city of Ephesus, with its crumbling stones
and quake-toppled columns the face of imperialism made
acceptable in elegant decrepitude.
Turlough, who must have known something of the
colonial history of his forebears, said nothing throughout
the journey from the bunker to the Hall of Fire. The
Unbelievers were also silent, nervous that any moment
some zealous citizen might come forward to denounce
them.
The Doctor and Turlough with Amyand and his group
of dissidents halted in a side street just beyond the main
entrance of the Hall. Amyand nodded to his men who drew
swords and knives from under their clothes.
The Sarns assembled in the Hall of Fire thought for a
moment that the Elders had returned. But none of those
arthritic ayatollahs could have achieved the speed with
which Amyand s picked men dashed up the portico steps
and into the Hall.
 Don t anyone move! shouted the rebel leader as each
Unbeliever ran to his strategic corner, grabbed a citizen
and held a knife at his throat.  Stay where you are and no
one will get hurt.
The guards raised their sabres, but dared not move for
fear of causing injury to the hostages.
Amyand ran to the stone platform in front of the cave
where the fire still raged.  You re here to see the Outsider,
he shouted, giving the crowd no time to recover from the
shock of the invasion.  Well, you won t be disappointed
because we ve found him for you. He gestured to the
entrance as the Doctor arrived at the top step of the portico
like a royal bride.  In fact, two of them! cried Amyand
excitedly as Turlough joined the Doctor.
The citizens were overawed by the spectacle. Like the
Unbelievers, they had never seen strangers before.
 Doctor! Turlough! Amyand saluted the aliens who,
escorted by the two armed Unbelievers, processed through
the Hall, every eye upon them.  Do they look like
messengers from Logar? shouted Amyand.  They re men
like us!
It was a disconcerting experience for the Doctor and
Turlough to walk from one end of the building to the other
under such universal scrutiny. Turlough was so
embarassed that he had no inclination to look round the
Hall, and it was not until he reached the platform by the
cave that he saw the units from the Trion ship.  That s the
navigational unit from a Trion space shuttle! exclaimed
the boy.  And the concentrator from a propulsion unit! He
pointed to another piece of hi-tech pseudo-sculpture that
adorned the platform.
 These people, continued Amyand, pointing to the
Doctor and Turlough,  will tell you that Logar is dead that
Logar never existed.
Turlough, however, was not interested in the idealogical
problems of the Sarns; he wanted to know what they were
doing with bits of a Trion space ship. But there was no [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]