Author Note: Although it stands alone, this story follows on from The Other Side of the Coin
Kingmaker
"Do you know, Chancellor, that this is the year of my ascension? That within this next annual cycle I shall become a god?"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"That I shall hold the power of life and death over all of you?"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
There was a long pause, a drumming of well-manicured fingers. "Not that I don't have the power of life and death already. But this will be much more direct. No more going through those tedious legal procedures. I shall simply snap my fingers and you will be so much dust. Wonderful, isn't it?"
King Peron, son of gods, and ninety-third of his line looked down at his Chancellor. Her attention was focussed on reading the farming legislation that had to be passed through Council within the next few weeks if it was going to make any difference to the year's harvest. He stared at her, eyes narrowing, before slamming his hand into the papers and then scattering them with one quick movement.
His voice, on the other hand, was quite mild. "I don't think that you are giving your sovereign lord the attention that he is due."
The Chancellor stood and bowed. There'd be no point trying to work now; he'd take pleasure in disrupting whatever she tried to do. "Majesty, how may I be of service?"
Peron clapped his hands, smile springing to his face. "Much better. Much, much better. Now, Casta, I've been hearing some very disturbing things concerning my impending godhood. For one, the construction workers at my temple have refused to continue working."
Casta nodded. "They haven't been paid, Majesty."
"Paid!" spat Peron. "The impudence! They are honoured to be allowed to participate in such great works. What does money matter when they work towards their spiritual salvation?"
"Their families need to eat, and so do they. I did divert money from the treasury, but Your Majesty thought that-"
"-I hope, Chancellor, that you are not presuming to suggest I made a mistake."
Casta gave a quick bow. "Of course not, Majesty, but the people are hungry. They must eat."
"It simply can't be done," said Peron airily. "Their spirits will be full soon enough. But the Guard still haven't found the other artefact. And the people cannot think of their bellies when their lord's godhood is at stake. No, no, they shall starve. And they shall build. Or..." He stopped, spun and was suddenly perfectly delighted. "No god of our pantheon condemns cannibalism, do they, Casta? Ah, am I not brilliant! Am I not! I shall send orders at once!"
He ran from the room like a child with a new toy, cradling his idea inside his head. Casta swallowed, sat back down and tried to work on the farming initiative.
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Leto believed that she was dreaming.
She was at the hospital, not the one that the Family Tyerana had bombed, but one of the capital's hospitals that had managed to keep going even through the rioting. She was looking into one of the isowards. A private one, with a single patient.
The poison was in the air now, spreading across the planet, but the hospital would be safe for a little while longer. It had a separate air supply for just such an epidemic, but with no outside support it would soon run out.
She felt the doctor leave her, let her enter the ward alone. The patient was so very young: a girl no older than six with pale blonde hair and sickly white skin. Leto stroked the hair back from her forehead, sensing her soft sleeping thoughts. She wasn't in any pain.
There was a rustle behind her and she glanced over her shoulder. "What is it?"
"I'm sorry, Senator."
Leto closed her eyes. "What about her father?"
"Even if he could be persuaded to leave the front, the general is too far away to return to the capital before..."
"Then leave me alone."
The dream shattered at an approaching storm and Leto woke to the sound of thunder. Or some demonic orchestra.
She leapt to her feet, quite awake and stared in disbelief at the thin metal column materialising in her cell. A door in its side swung open.
Cautiously, Leto approached, not quite daring to believe that he had come back for her; thinking that this was just another layer of dreams keeping her submerged from consciousness. In that case, it didn't matter what she did. She stopped worrying and stepped inside the TARDIS.
"You'd better go to the medical unit, that gunshot wound could take weeks to heal using Earth medicine." The Master stood by the console, impeccably dressed in black and wholly composed.
"I thought you had left Earth."
"Only very briefly. There seemed little benefit in leaving you to UNIT's tender mercies. I'm well aware of what a bore it can be to be locked up by them."
She said the only thing that she could think of: "Thank you."
"Not at all, my dear. Now, please, go and do something about that arm."
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"It detects delta particles," the Doctor said, picking up the unit and striding into the TARDIS. "I admit it was a long shot, but now I've got a lock on the Master's TARDIS, I can't afford to lose it."
Jo took a last gulp of tea and put the empty cup in the sink. "Right, so now you know where and when the Master's going."
"That's right."
She followed him into the TARDIS, folding her arms as he set the co-ordinates. "The Brigadier's not going to be very happy, you know. Aren't you even going to tell him how Leto escaped?"
"I will. When we get back. But that artefact's far more important." The Doctor placed his hands on the console, over the telepathic circuits.
"Are you going to tell the Time Lords' it's something he's stolen from them?"
"Quiet, Jo. I have to concentrate." He closed his eyes, frowning slightly and for a moment, Jo was worried.
Then it was over. The doors shut and the TARDIS dematerialised, and it felt no different to any other trip she'd taken in it. "We're on our way?"
"We are indeed. And to answer your question, no, I didn't. The Time Lords have a bad habit of leaving some of their oldest and most dangerous creations lying around the cosmos. I'd rather not remind them about the things they've lost."
"Why ever not?"
He gave her a grim look. "Because then they might go looking for them."
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"Formal bow when greeting a social superior. Short bow on departure. Always let them decide when the conversation is over."
"Dinner?"
"Drinks from left to right. One between each course. Always sip. I have to take one injection every four hours to disperse the poison." It was, Leto thought, a very paranoid world that had its nobles consume a variety of poison with every meal from childhood onwards to build up a tolerance.
"Very good." The Master nodded, satisfied. "Now the sanity of the current monarch is questionable at best, which is to our advantage. He's taken quite an interest in the old prophecies that used to be the province of the Royal Court's seer."
"I noticed. But if he's irrational won't that make reasoning with him more difficult?"
"Not at all. He's already convinced he's destined to be a god. The year we are arriving in has been particularly promising for prophesy signs."
Leto smiled, amused despite herself. "So you'll be playing the messenger from the gods?"
"Yes. Now when we arrive, I shall need you at the console. The controls are simple enough, but there can be no mistakes."
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The Royal Court of Ceros was dark blue lit with silver and bustling with well-dressed dignitaries and stuffed bureaucrats. On his throne Peron listened, bored, to the appeal from the workers' representative.
"Enough! That's quite enough." He smiled, spread his hands. "I have been utterly convinced, I assure you. Chancellor!"
"Majesty?" Casta stepped forward, elegant and wearing her formal robes.
"Are my plans for the feeding of these humble workers ready?"
Casta looked at the ground, tried to ignore the wave of nausea that came over her. "They are, Majesty."
"Excellent!" Peron jumped to his feet, flung a friendly arm around the worker. "You'll be first to see the new plans, I think." He waved a guard over and had him escort the representative from the court. None but the Chancellor understood what was to happen to him.
Peron was about to call the next order of business when a great roar echoed across the court. He scowled, slammed a fist into the arm of his throne. "What is that?" he demanded.
The murmurs of the Court brought him no answers.
"Look!" said the Chancellor pointing at the empty space in the centre of the room. Peron blinked; it was no longer empty. A slim silver column was in its place. A door swung open and a stranger stepped out.
Peron felt a thrill of delight; he knew what this was, why he was here, still he would ask. He had to be sure. "Who are you?" he said imperiously.
The stranger bowed. "I come to speak on behalf of the Pantheon. I come to speak to Your Majesty concerning his most sacred destiny. I am the Master."
Peron ignored the whisperings that echoed through the room. "Have you proof of this?" He hardly dare breath.
The Master bowed again and waved a hand at the Seal of the Royal House, hanging above the throne. In the top segment, protected by the same force fields that could shield the throne, was the third artefact and the greatest treasure of Ceros. The artefact glowed a moment then flew from the seal, through the air and straight into the Master's hand.
"I bring the lost pieces of the machine with me."
"Then you will construct it? The Godmaker? It can be done?"
"Yes, Majesty."
Peron fell back in his throne, grinning. "Chancellor, give our most honoured guest quarters, food, wine, whatever he wants. And clear the laboratories." He turned back to the Master. "The resources of Ceros are at your disposal."