The Sacred Garden

Chapter Four

Leela paced the length of the cell, sorting her top ten pressing concerns into two categories: emotional and practical. She intended to move the practical ones up the list, but the emotional concerns felt like fresh wounds that begged for priority attendance. First was Andred, who was almost immobile from his guilt, and for whom Leela felt a powerful mixture of sympathy and frustration as he sat on the floor in the corner of the cell, head bowed. It was a poor way to begin. Not only that: any disaster to befall him from here on out was in large measure her responsibility, because she had been reckless enough to insist upon the journey. It was a heavier burden than she had reckoned. Then there was Rodan, who occasionally broke out into spasms of hyperventilation and looked by turns gray-faced and resigned or white-faced and frightened.

It was a bit of a relief to have Nesbin at hand, if only to serve as the recipient of frustrated glances. Nesbin had wasted no time walking about the cell and assessing it, and maintained a cool, detached exterior.

"Interesting," he grunted after awhile. "The stonework looks new, or well preserved, anyway. There are few gaps in the mortar, the bricks are smooth."

"But the metal looks old," said Leela cottoning on. Indeed, the flat slats of the metal grating that spanned the cell were nearly more rust than metal.

"It's about brittle in parts," added Nesbin. "Which means either lack of funds or lack of resources."

"The mines are abandoned."

"Yes, maybe a recent event – they haven't had time to come up with an alternative." This from Andred, who looked like his interest was piqued. He joined Leela and Nesbin at the bars, standing over Leela's shoulder and touching her arm. "Different kind of metal, though, as the one at the mine."

"Are you sure?"

"Well, different color rust. I guess the important thing is – how brittle is it?" He glanced sideways at Nesbin.

Nesbin in turn glanced up and down the corridor, in which this cell was only one of six. "It looks like a couple of the cells have already had their bars broken. It would make a bit of a racket, of course – I don't know how to calculate the odds of escape."

"Well, any odds, short or long, above zero would be welcome," said Andred wryly, "as I am about to be tried for murder."

"K9!" exclaimed Leela.

"He needs to stay with the TARDIS," said Andred firmly. At her look, he continued: "As a last resort, then. Look, none of you are in the same kind of trouble as I am, so you can devise a rescue with or without K9. Also: they'll probably see reason, right? I must have hit some buried mine or something – it was a crazy accident. OK, I'm not sure they'll understand that I was attempting to stun them ..."

"Why do you assume the best?" she asked. "Most places – justice is harsh! That's one thing I have learned."

"I'm not assuming, exactly," he said, mildly. "Just being – hopeful."

Reading alien languages took, for some reason, a bit more practice and skill than listening to and understanding them. Andred supposed that it had to do with context and voice inflection. At any rate, he spent a great deal of time in the courtroom staring at what he felt sure was a time device, trying to work it out, until at last he discerned numbers in what appeared to be a duodecimal system. Even so, he had no perspective on how these people ordered their day. Was "1" early in the day or later?

The room was bland, in universal courtroom fashion, and bare. The witness box, the defense and accusation benches, and the audience seats were all of plain wood, well worn and yellow. A more elaborate, S-shaped table with a marble overlay was set at the head of the room. A small window, high up on the wall, was barred and stained with some greasy opaque substance. Uniformed officers in black and tan, armed only with bulky crossbows hitched against their shoulders, stood along the wall. As it gathered, the crowd swelled in size and volume. Andred was surprised by the amount of interest the trial had generated, and alarmed at the snatches of conversation he heard behind him.