DAY 156

Mr. Sandman

Eleven

"I'd like to buy this; how much is it?"

"Excuse me?"

"This, right here, this thing. What can I give you for it? I could give you, uh… knowledge? How about that? Lovely bit of knowledge to keep you going? …No?"

"Gold."

"Gold? Well, I'll see what I have…" He rifled through his pockets: sonic screwdriver, psychic paper, half-empty pack of Marlboro Lights he kept meaning to get rid of, Clara's polaroid camera she had given to him to hang onto, a few stray Jelly Babies courtesy of his daughter – and then, "Ah-ha! I've struck gold. Get it? Here you are." From his pocket he produced a toffee penny from a box of Quality Streets, having absolutely no idea when he had acquired it or how old it was. "How about this?"

"This? For my camel?" the street vendor took the toffee penny.

"Yes! It's gold, isn't it? Or, if you like," he again pilfered his jacket, this time finding a partially-wrapped segment of Dairy Milk Caramel. "This is caramel. And caramel sounds like camel, so I rather think-" Somebody cleared their throat very angrily behind him, and he turned to see a tall and furious silhouette bearing down on him beneath the Egyptian sun.

"Are you trying to buy this man's camel using a very old sweet?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Amelia. I would never – well don't eat it!" he rounded on the street vendor again. The toffee penny had gone a bit melty in the desert heat. "If you eat it you can't sell it on! It could be worth ten times' as much in a few hundred years, keep it as a… urgh." The merchant had finished the toffee penny, and now grinned very widely at the Doctor.

"For more of these, I give you my camel," he said. The Doctor beamed, but Amy stole the words from his mouth.

"Last one, sorry," she grabbed his elbow, "You ate it. All gone."

"I'm trying to haggle over here," the Doctor argued with her.

"Oh my god," she stopped and then pressed her fingers to her temples, looking like she was in incredible pain all of a sudden. The Doctor was alarmed.

"What? What is it? Are you okay?"

"I just saw into the future," she put a hand on his shoulders, "And I saw that if you buy that camel, your wife is going to murder you."

"She would love it!"

"No she wouldn't. No one would. It's a stupid idea. You're an idiot and I'm very impressed she hasn't divorced you yet. Now come on," she slapped his arm, "I want to see the Sphinx before its nose falls off."

"Its nose didn't fall off, actually, it got vandalised. By Romans, probably. They went around bashing the noses off all the statues of Pharaohs and the like," the Doctor explained, following Amy.

"Has the Sphinx been built yet?"

"This is the First Century, AD, it's been built for two-and-a-half-thousand years," Eleven informed her. "The Pharaohs are going to fall within the next few decades."

"All because Cleopatra couldn't keep it in her pants," Amy sighed.

"If you want to be brash about it." Amy guided him back to where River Song was also haggling with Rory at her side, only she was doing a much better job of it than Eleven had been. She was trying to purchase some sort of trinket from a stall run by a surprisingly young child, but the little boy was driving a hard bargain.

"I've found him. He was this close to pawning his wedding ring to buy a camel," she said, holding up her fingers with a minute gap between them. It was roasting hot out there in the Egyptian marketplace, right in the heart of a tiny village built in and around some ruined pillars, at the shaded base of one of the Great Pyramids. When he looked up, he could see the largest one swimming in the heat. Typically, he was not dressed for the weather, with his tweed jacket and bowtie.

"No I wasn't. I couldn't. He wanted gold and my ring is made of silver," he said, looking at it on his hand. It was warm from the sunlight. He rarely noticed it now, but there was a time when it caught his eye and seemed very marvellous every time it threw off the light. Made him feel like a magpie, but a very lucky magpie who was married to Clara Oswald. "You know, I keep getting quizzes about this from the Tenth Doctor," he addressed mainly the Ponds, and mainly Rory at that, with River still trying to win her trinket and Amy going to see what the fuss was all about.

"Quizzes how?" Rory asked.

"Something along the lines of, does a wedding ring feel like the bars of a prison?"

"Probably shouldn't get married if you view it as being in a prison," said Rory, rubbing patches of sweat from his forehead with the back of his equally sweaty hand. "How are you not drenched? Aren't you boiling?" Rory was only in a t-shirt and shorts, and Amy was wearing next-to-nothing as always and kept getting stared at.

"I'm fine. But you just reminded me," and then he did a spin for dramatic effect while pulling from his pocket quite possibly his most prized possession. "Ta-da!"

"Oh, god…"

"It's my fez," he declared, "Back again."

"I don't even think fezzes are Egyptian," Rory said.

"They're not, they came from the Ottoman Empire," River interrupted, casting a glare at the little boy manning the stall. She had not been able to get whatever she was after. "On the subject, marriage always makes me think of prison."

"Only because you were in prison for most of ours," Eleven pointed out. She shrugged.

"It's not a prison. You can walk out at any time," Amy said indifferently.

"Well. That makes me feel confident," Rory muttered. Amy smiled at him. "When are they getting married?"

"In a week," said Amy.

"A week!?" Eleven exclaimed, "As in-? Next week?"

"We're going to see the Sphinx next week at the rate this is going," Amy complained.

"Yes, fine, we can go see the Sphinx. Would have been a lot quicker if you let me buy that camel."

"Why do you even want a camel? They just spit at you," said Rory.

"It's more to do with the idea. I'm an ideas man. Anyway, come on, the Sphinx is this way," he said, beginning to walk, "Even though going towards the Sphinx means leaving the shade of this excellent pyramid." They really were right at the base of it, sheltered from the scorching noon sun. At least for once they had got where they were planning to go – he remembered the time Amy had begged to go to Rio and they had ended up in a cold patch of Welsh countryside where people were trying to drill the Silurians out of house and home. She was wearing sunglasses, and people found this very interesting because sunglasses did not exist yet. When Eleven told her to take them off she ignored him.

A woman's scream pierced the air, which had been so stagnant and quiet aside from muttered conversations and the sounds of buzzing flies. They turned in time to see a relatively young woman, possibly only in her twenties, wailing and screaming at the top of her lungs. It took a few moments to decipher what she was saying and to realise what was going on quickly enough to actually act. She was saying something about her son, and how her son had been taken by a curse. Yes, after listening carefully, the Doctor was very sure she said the word 'curse', and more than once.

"The Curse of Apep! My boy! My child! My love!" she sobbed, then she collapsed to her knees, dressed in rags, in the middle of the market of that tiny village. The Doctor waited for people to rush to her aid, to comfort her, but this did not happen. Instead, people bowed their heads in sorrow and did not look at this scene. The Doctor thought it was outrageous, and immediately stepped forwards to go and help her himself, with the Ponds and River Song right on his heels.

"Are you okay? What's happened?" Amy asked her first, holding her shoulders and trying to steady her. The woman looked at her, saw her weeping face reflected in Amy's sunglasses, and then wailed even more. A terrible sound, wracked with grief, and she almost collapsed by Eleven stepped forwards to support her.

"Take them off," he ordered her now, and she finally did remove the glasses while he shook his head. He was a bad influence on them; they never dressed for the period. Clara nearly always dressed for the period, but he thought she had a thing for dressing up. Not that that was remotely relevant to the struggles of a grieving Egyptian mother. "Did you say curse?" he pressed.

"The Curse of Apep."

"Apep, Apep…" he muttered to himself.

"Embodiment of chaos, ultimate evil," River informed him curtly.

"Right, chaos, blimey, that's not very good. What does this curse entail, exactly? You can trust me, I'm a doctor – a medicine man, a physician, you know?" he said, failing to remember any proper terms. He really should have brushed up on his Ancient Egyptian history that morning, but Amy had rather sprung on him her desire to go see the Sphinx, annoyed that the only time they had ever really seen any of the sights of Egypt it had been in a bizarre parallel timeline. The Doctor tried not to think about all that business, it gave him a headache and felt very long ago now.

"It is death to all who have angered the gods," the woman said, but the Doctor did not believe in angry gods bringing death to young children.

"Your son, may we see him? We might be able to help," he said hopefully.

"Nobody can help him now! We have prayed, and prayed-"

"Maybe we were sent by your gods, to see if we can do anything," Rory interrupted, "Please. I'm a doctor too."

"In your dreams," Amy said quietly.

"Compared to the basic medicine of Ancient Egypt-" he began, but his wife shushed him.

"Come on, now, show us where he is," Eleven entreated helping her back to her feet. Now people around them were growing intrigued, because the unusual tourists were taking an interest in something which wasn't their business. But when people were suffering, the Doctor made it his business, and the woman clung to the glimmer of hope that maybe he would be able to do something.

"Do you have your medical kit?" River asked Rory.

"Never leave home without it," he said, "You never know what might happen on one of these trips. I was there when Jenny broke her thumb."

"No, you weren't," said the Doctor.

"I was," said Rory.

"No. That's my daughter and you didn't see what happened to her," he said very firmly, with a tone of voice that meant he shouldn't be argued with on this. But Rory hadn't had to sit there and watch while his only blood relative had their hand pulled apart. Something else he didn't like to think about, as this staggering woman led them to her son's alleged deathbed. A grim turn of events to their day of idle sight-seeing – why did this always happen to them? Oh well. Perhaps the boy merely had a cold.

With a shaky hand, the woman opened the flimsy wooden door into a hut half built out of the stone walls of the ruins and half out of bits of cloth and more salvaged wood. It looked like driftwood, possibly lugged over from the relatively close-by Nile. Inside, it was stifling, and it stank very pungently of urine. Amy covered her nose. It was tricky to see, with no real light source, but he could make out the tiny form of a young boy no more than ten curled up under a blanket on a tiny, wooden bed, about the size of a camp bed and not much more comfortable. Rory pushed past the Doctor to go and see to the boy, taking out his small first aid kit he took everywhere.

"Is he dead?" asked Amy.

"No. But he's close…"

"Medicine cannot defy the will of the gods," the woman said. Rory said nothing, looking at the boy.

"Sorry, is there pee in here?" he turned to ask the mother, "Like a chamber pot, or something?" The woman nodded. "Can I get a look at it?" She thought this was a highly unusual question, but they all moved back as she slid a pot which looked more like a repurposed vase out from underneath the bed, making the smell significantly worse. Rory braved it and leant over the mouth of the container and shone his torch inside. Eleven didn't look over his shoulder to get a look too, he trusted Rory's opinion on the pee. Then he went back to looking at the boy himself, lifting his eyelids, checking his hands, taking his pulse, et cetera.

"Well?" River prompted eventually.

"I'm no Martha, but it looks like a kidney infection."

"A curse on his kidneys," the mother said.

"There's blood and vomit in here, and he's got a nasty fever," said Rory, "Not to mention the jaundice in his eyes."

"I thought jaundice is from liver disease?" Amy asked.

"Usually, but kidney problems can cause it as well. His eyes are very yellow. I'm… sorry, but it looks like he's in the final stages, it's very advanced," Rory said with some difficulty to the mother. To give her hope and take it away again… "Maybe if we came earlier, or if there are other people here with these symptoms-"

"Many others have died from the Curse of Apep," she said.

"But a kidney infection, or even kidney failure – that's not contagious," Rory was perplexed, "None of this looks contagious." The Doctor put his hands in his trouser pockets and thought. Why would an entire village be dying off slowly of kidney failure?

"We are being punished. Ever since the wells dried up months ago. That was the first time that we have enraged the gods," the mother said sombrely. She had clearly already accepted her son's death, though she was still weeping. He was close to offering her his handkerchief, but suspected his wife had stolen it.

"The wells dried up?" River asked, "Why is everyone still here if there isn't any water? The Nile is barely five miles away."

"Overnight," said the mother, "There was no water in the wells anymore."

"And you stayed?"

"There is a man, a good man, Sati, he brings us water every week from Memphis. He brings it on his own camels, we drink because of him – his generosity was gifted to him by the gods, praise Renenutet for her pity that she would help us while we are ravaged by Apep," she said.

"Does he now…" the Doctor mused, trying to determine how far away Memphis was. They may have to call the TARDIS back down and take a trip to the big city, which would certainly upset Amy's plans to see the Sphinx.

"He is due soon, when the sun is high above Khufu's Pyramid," she said, "Today."

"Today? We're in luck."

"I hope his elixir will help my son, perhaps Imhotep will have sympathy for me. He has never harmed anybody, he is a gentle child…" she looked at her dying son and wept. Amy didn't say a word, only watched, unable to think of what to say that would bring any comfort to this woman who was treating her child like he was already a corpse on his way to be embalmed.

"Don't you have any antibiotics?" River asked Rory as he stood up and brushed himself down, packing his things away in his bag and looking mournful. It couldn't be good to be unable to do anything for a patient; the Doctor hated it. But he was still thinking.

"For any chance, he'd need to be drip-fed antibiotics and fluids, and even then… I'd say he has hours, if that," Rory said quietly.

"I'm sorry," Eleven said to the grieving mother, "I'm a father, and this, if it happened to my…" But it had happened to her, the day she was born she had died in his arms and he had watched the life disappear from her eyes. It was something he never wanted to see again, and every day made him grateful of his second chances to do right by Jenny. He decided he was going to need to take a look at these wells.