standing nose-to-snout with it, the Doctor gave a little wave. 'Hello again!'
The creature spoke, its voice low and monotone. 'I represent the Regulatory Board. Under Clause 9.4b (subsection 12.2) of the Regulation of Psycho-Manipulatory Metals Act (30673.26), all parties here assembled must hand over any substances 95
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covered by said Act within ten standard time units.'
'That was a mouthful. Can you do it again?' It did.
'So you can. Good for you! Not easy learning lines like that. If you ever decide to get out of the regulatory business, I suggest you think about the stage. So you want the stuff, too.' The Doctor rocked back and forth on his heels. 'Enamour, Enamour, they all want Enamour... So what's your claim? Who's your boss? Not these Bright Nobles, I bet.'
It growled at that name. 'My authority comes from the Reconstruction Oversight Committee—'
'The what?' The Doctor clutched his head in pain. 'That's a rubbish name! Who sold you that one? You should get your money back... Did nobody talk to you about brand management? And as for "standard time units"...' He groaned. 'That's rubbish too! What were you thinking? You know, if you're serious about reconstructing whatever it is you're busy reconstructing, you should probably get rid of that committee.'
With a sudden quick movement, the Doctor stuck his arm right through the Regulator. It all but disappeared. 'Huh,' he said, half to the Regulator, half to himself. 'Definitely a projection. Doesn't stop you being alarming. The trick with the lights 96
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is a good one, too, I'll give you that. And somehow you're stimulating fear and apprehension... Don't know how you're doing it - not yet, will eventually
- but put it all together and it's an effective bad-guy routine, isn't it? Said you should think about the stage.' He pulled back his hand, and the Regulator coalesced back into its whole shape.
Ooh. That's interesting. I stick my hand through you and you still don't make a move towards me. Ten standard time units. And then what? What do you do then?'
'Under powers granted to the Regulatory Board by the Regulation of Psycho-Manipulatory Metals Act (30673.26), reasonable force can be used to secure all substances covered by said Act.'
'Reasonable force?' The Doctor frowned. 'I don't like the sound of that. Reasonable force is never actually reasonable, is it?'
The Regulator twitched the many fingers of one hand. The lamps behind the throne burst back into flame. Then it pointed up towards the dome. All of them gathered there - the Doctor, Amy, Rory, Hilthe, the Teller - looked up.
'Save us!' the Teller whispered, when he saw what was passing overhead.
Beyond the golden dome of the chamber, silhouetted like a shadow play, two gigantic shapes were moving slowly across the sky above 97
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Geath. Both were winged and had a long thin tail that stretched out behind each of them. Amy even thought she could see a puff of smoke. 'Oh, you're kidding me,' she said. 'They can't possibly be...'
'But look at them!' said Rory. 'They totally are!
They're —'
'Don't say it, Rory Williams!'
' — dragons! Dragons, Amy! Instant awesome!'
'How can this be happening?' gasped the Teller. He clutched desperately at Amy's arm.
She nearly felt sorry for him. 'It'll all work out fine,' she said comfortingly. 'Just keep your hands off the glittery stuff in future, OK? Doesn't do anyone any good. Doctor, tell me they're not really dragons.'
'Tell me they are,' begged Rory.
'Sorry to disappoint you, Rory,' the Doctor said.
'But of course they're not dragons.' He put a finger to his lips, signalling to everyone to be quiet. 'Listen.
What can you hear?'
Amy had to strain to pick out what he meant, because the city was already awakening to this new threat. There were shouts from outside and then a gong sounded repeatedly. But behind it all, distantly but distinctly, Amy heard not the flap of wings, but a low constant and entirely