while the black stars burn (21 page)

“No need for that,” he said. “I’ve been here numerous times and know the city quite well, thank you.”

“Are you sure?” asked Elizabeth.

“Absolutely,” he replied. “The map of Prague is right up here.” He tapped his head. “In the old toboggan.”

“Well,
you
may know the layout of the city,” said Ace, taking the map from Elizabeth, “but I’m still a first-time tourist. Thank you, Elizabeth. I’m sure this will prove useful, should the Doctor and I be separated.”

“Your confidence in my powers of navigation is deeply touching,” said the Doctor.

Elizabeth grinned at the both of them, and then added: “The eye-witness accounts suggest that most of the activity has been seen heading to or from an area near the Jewish Quarter. Something tells me that the source of the problem may be centered there.”

The Doctor slapped his hands together. “Very well, then—near the Jewish Quarter it shall be. Perhaps we’ll catch a glimpse of good Rabbi Loew’s Golem, eh? Wouldn’t that be exciting?”

Ace shrugged. “Says you.”

The Doctor turned toward Elizabeth. “One last thing—I listened very carefully to your assistants’ accounts, and I don’t recall hearing
one
of them mention anything about the phenomena coming from or returning to an area ‘near the Jewish Quarter.’” He stared at her unblinking. “What did
you
see, Elizabeth?”

“How did you know?”

“Elementary, my dear Holub. Every person in your lab reported at least
two
encounters with the phenomena, while you, evidently, have spent the whole of your life secluded in this gargantuan edifice, never seeing so much as a bird building its nest. As oddities, go, I’d call that one of the more intriguing ones—wouldn’t you agree, Ace?”

“
Does
seem a bit off, now that you mention it.”

The Doctor tapped the tip of his umbrella against the stone stairs. “Right! So, I ask once again—what did
you
see, Elizabeth?”

Elizabeth looked down at her feet, sighed, then faced the Doctor. “Understand, Doctor, that my position here requires that my staff has the utmost, unshakable confidence in my leadership abilities, and—”

“—and you don’t wish to sound daft, lest you lose that confidence. Yes, yes, I understand your reasons for keeping your personal encounters to yourself, but you needn’t worry about Ace and mw thinking you incontinent.”

“‘Incompetent’,” Ace corrected.

“Right you are. So, Elizabeth?”

“I was in the Little Quarter, visiting the new branch of the National Library, and decided to pay a visit to Prague Castle—it’s just over the Charles Bridge, on the other side of the Jewish Quarter.”

Unable to maintain eye contact with the Doctor—whose glare was becoming intensely impatient—Elizabeth addressed Ace. “I fancy myself something of an architecture buff, and Prague has some of the most beautiful buildings in the world—none more so than Prague Castle.”

“Travelogues bore me to tears, Elizabeth,” said the Doctor.

“And she ain’t talking to
you
, now, is she?” snapped Ace.

The Doctor pouted. “No reason to be cross about it. I have feelings too, you know.”

“The thing is,” Elizabeth continued, “a section of the castle was destroyed in the petrol riots—a bomb brought down an entire tower. But that tower, just the other night...
it was back
.”

“You mean it, like, reappeared while you were watching?”

“No,” replied Elizabeth. “I mean it was still there, as if it had never been destroyed. Not a stone out of place. And I heard...I heard
music
from somewhere inside, a—”

“—a violin?” asked Ace.

“Yes! How did you know?”

The Doctor turned toward his companion. “Indeed, I should like to know the answer to that myself.”

“Not important,” said Ace, sliding the map into a side pocket of her rucksack. “We need to get moving. If the electricity goes out at nightfall, we’ve got about six hours.”

“I assume, Elizabeth,” said the Doctor, “that you will be willing to lend us your car.”

“But you need to know what I saw!” said Elizabeth.

“Yes...?” said the Doctor.

“A giant. A great, fierce-looking thing.”

“A giant?” said Ace. “As in ‘fee-fi-fo-fum’?”

Elizabeth nodded. “Precisely.”

“Oh, this just gets better ‘n better, don’t it, Professor?”

“And on my way back across the bridge,” continued Elizabeth, “I saw a knight conversing with a large earthworm.”

Ace caught the glint in the Doctor’s eyes: a sparkle of almost-realization that told her in no uncertain terms he was already piecing things together. Despite his sometimes exasperating her, it was at moments like this, when she could almost hear his mind going
clickety-clickety-click!
, that she found him unquestionably compelling—even attractive, in his own peculiar way.

Elizabeth escorted them to her subcompact hydrogen car and gave the keys to Ace. “I’m assuming that the good Doctor’s driving skills have not improved with age,” she said.

The Doctor sighed. “Everyone’s insulting me today.”

Ace pointed toward the car. “Get in, Professor.”

“I live to serve.”

And with that, Elizabeth wished them luck, and Ace and the Doctor climbed inside.

Ace was just starting the car when the Doctor reached over and took firm hold of her arm.

“Out with it, Ace.”

“With what?”

“How did you know about the violin music?”

“Does it matter?”

The Doctor glared at her. “Listen carefully to me, Ace. The tower Elizabeth spoke of is called Dalibor Tower. It was built as part of the fortifications to Prague Castle by King Vladislav Jagiello.

“The tower also served as a prison. It was given its name after its first inmate, Dalibor of Kozojedy, a knight sentenced to death for supporting a peasant rebellion. He was placed in a pit, an underground dungeon. He played the violin to pass the time and prevent himself from going mad from the isolation. People came to listen to him play. I know this because the story was used by Bedrich Smetana in his opera
Dalibor
—the debut of which I was fortunate enough to attend in this very city. So I must ask you a very important question, Ace—
how did you know
?”

“I heard it in a dream.”

“The dream you spoke of back in the TARDIS?”

“Yes.”

“And I take it, then, that you also saw the dungeon-pit?”

“Yes. There was a little girl kneeling over it. She was talking to her father—her father was the one down in the pit, the one playing the violin.”

The Doctor shook his head. “Impossible. Dalibor of Kozojedy never sired any children.”

“Maybe it weren’t Dalibor she was talking to.”

“Then who
would
she have been–?” The Doctor waved his hand. “Never mind, the identity of the violinist isn’t our immediate problem. That little girl and Dalibor Tower is. I assume, dear Ace, that you would recognize this little girl should we cross paths with her?”

She nodded. “I’d know that face anywhere. She was laughing in my dream, but there was...there was a sadness about her, a sort of loneliness. I knew just how she was feeling.”

The Doctor gave her hand a tender, affectionate squeeze. “You’re not alone anymore, Ace. Never will be, if I’ve anything to say about it. Now, I suggest you start the vehicle and drive in the direction of Charles Bridge.”

Ace reached for the map, and then realized that she
had
said a few things today that might have hurt the Doctor’s feelings, and the Doctor did need to know that her trust in him was unshaken. “Which way?”

The Doctor smiled at her, and then pointed. “That-a-way, Pardner—as John Wayne used to say.”

*

They had been traveling for less than an hour when they spotted the first dragon, this one queen-less but rather imposing, nonetheless. It was stretched out by the roadside soaking up the sunlight. The creature—though fully three-dimensional—appeared to have been drawn, in the greatest detail, with charcoal: its uniform grayness stood in stark contrast to the lush field of green on which it lay.

“Pull over,” said the Doctor.

“Stop beside a dragon? Are you daft?”

“Always. Now pull over. I have a hunch.”

“And you wonder why I worry.” Ace pulled over, and the Doctor immediately climbed out but did not approach the Dragon. Since the Doctor’s attention was elsewhere, Ace took the opportunity to reach behind her and dig a canister of Nitro-9—one of six she’d secretly brought along—from her rucksack. She placed it down by her right side where the Doctor couldn’t see and curled her finger around the activation pin.

“Hello?” called the Doctor. “Hello, my good fellow!”

The dragon opened one sleepy eye, stretched, wiggled, then said: “Are you Hynek? Come in search of the three doves?”

“Hynek?” replied the Doctor. “I’m afraid not. I’m known as the Doctor. I hate to bother you, seeing as how you’re obviously having a grand old time sunbathing, but I was wondering if you might know the quickest route to Prague Castle. My companion and I are in a bit of hurry, so any—”

The Doctor’s words cut off, and after a moment Ace leaned over toward his side of the vehicle. “Professor? You all right?”

The Doctor leaned down. “Did he say ‘Hynek’?”

“That’s how it sounded to me.”

“Ah.” He stood up again and continued his conversation with the dragon. “If you’d be so kind to point us in the right direction...”

The dragon raised up its left wing and flicked it southward.

Tipping his hat, the Doctor said, “I thank you for your kindness, good Sir Dragon.”

“You haven’t by chance a sheep you could spare, have you?” asked the dragon. “I could fancy a snack right about now.”

“So sorry, fresh out of sheep, I’m afraid. I might be able to locate a chocolate bar, though.”

“No, thank you,” said the dragon. “Chocolate doesn’t very much agree with me. Ah, well....” And the dragon closed its eyes, stretched out in the sunlight, and fell back asleep, though not before mumbling something about three doves and dancing devils.

The Doctor leapt back into the car, slamming closed the door and hissing, “We must make haste, Ace, to the nearest library or bookstore. The first one we pass, stop.
The very first one
.”

Ace pulled away with a bit more speed than was called for; if the Doctor noticed, he said nothing.

“What’s going on, Professor? Why do we need to go shopping for a
book
?”

“Not just any book, oh, no—it’s a very specific book I’ve in mind. And it
must
be the correct edition!”

“Got a sudden urge to read, have you?”

“A sudden
need
, dear Ace.” He turned toward her. “If my hunch is correct, then we may very well be dealing with something infinitely more threatening than the loss of the city’s power and the presence of these fantastical beings.”

“And what would that be?”

The Doctor opened his mouth to speak, closed it, tapped the handle of his umbrella, and then said, “Not just yet. I have to make certain that my hunch is correct.”

“That’s not fair! I’m entitled to know what we’re going up against!”

The Doctor stared at her. “Tell me, Ace, when you spent all that time alone when you were a child, did you ever find solace in fairy stories?”

Ace pulled in a deep breath; the Doctor’s question had opened doors in her memory that she’d prefer remained closed forever. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

The Doctor once again squeezed her hand. “You’ve given me my answer. We need never speak of this again, unless of course you feel compelled to share with me.”

*

By the time Ace managed to navigate the roads and side-streets leading to the Little Quarter, the sky was growing dim as more clouds crowded the horizon. Though enough sunlight managed to break through to give her a clear field of vision, the shadows were massing for a final attack.

“Not much daylight left, it looks like,” she commented.

“Oh, going by the clock, there’s still well over three hours of daylight remaining,” said the Doctor as he leaned forward and looked up through the windshield. “However, I’d say that the elements are conspiring against us. If you’ll look around us, Ace, you’ll see that there are fewer cars on the road and more horse-drawn wagons. It would appear the citizens of Prague are as resourceful as ever. They
know
the electricity is going to fail them as soon as the lights fades, and they’ve found a way to adapt—at least, as far as their transportation needs go.”

“Tell that to the bloke with the tricky pacemaker in his chest. I’m sure he’ll find a lot of comfort in that.”

“Point taken. The branch of the National Library should be just round this bend.”

As indeed it was; a towering, elegant, Gothic-style stone building with numerous Baroque additions, the place looked to Ace more like a cathedral than a place to house books—but of course, as the Doctor would undoubtedly point out to her, all libraries
were
a sort of cathedral, when you thought about it.

“Impressive,” said the Doctor; then, to Ace: “Or if I may borrow your term of choice, ‘
Wicked’
.”

“No arguments here,” replied Ace. She was just pulling into a parking space when the car completely stopped; the engine died, the dashboard lights cut out, and the radio—which Ace had been playing at a low volume—snapped off.

“Well, well,” said the Doctor. “It appears that the clouds have at last ruled the day—or what remains of it.”

Ace looked out her window. All around the Quarter, lights were going out; no sooner did the electricity in one building cease to function than someone inside began lighting numerous candles. Even the interior of the library began to sparkle with dozens of small dancing flames.

“Now what?” she asked.

Opening his door, the Doctor replied, “We go in search of the needed book. Come, Ace, we must basin.”

“‘Hasten.’”

“Have it your way.”

They scurried up the stone stairs leading to the magnificent wooden doors of the entrance, but no sooner had they reached the landing than the Doctor was knocked backward by some invisible force, losing his balance and dropping firmly on his backside, his Panama hat falling from his head.