by Clive May

PG

The Fifth Doctor, Tegan and Turlough pay their respects to Nyssa.

The copyright of Doctor Who is owned by the BBC.

===========

The massive arm lifted to the leaden sky. The huge paw unfolded slowly. Lost in the expanse of the palm was the ring of dull metal he had removed with such gentleness from the wrist of the Little Queen.

Such an inconsequential seeming thing it was, to encompass such power. Others, less content than he, might be tempted by its infinite possibility, but not he. There was but one service he required of the bracelet - its power to bring the ones who must come, the ones without whom the Little Queen would be truly lost.

Settling his bulky body into a stance which perfectly expressed his determination, the Gardener of the God Tree sent forth the first summons.

Tegan entered the console room bearing a laden tea-tray which she set down on a little stand. She looked across at the Doctor. 'Tea?' The Doctor did not answer. He was studying the console read-outs and frowning.

Tegan moved over to stand beside him. 'Something wrong?'

The Doctor glanced at her, then back to the console. 'Hmm - not exactly.' He reached out and tried a few keys. Nothing happened. His frown deepened and his hand moved to hover over a large red button.

'What is it, Doctor?' Turlough came up on his other side. He managed to sound casual; but the hand in his pocket, clutching the crystal, was suddenly slippery with sweat. The fear that his Controller might be acting without him gnawed at his soul.

'The TARDIS has changed course.'

'The Time Lords?' asked Turlough, somehow managing to keep the hope out of his voice.

'No. Not this time. This has not come from outside; the TARDIS has done this on her own.' He brushed the edge of the console affectionately. 'What is it, Old Girl? Where are you taking us?' The Doctor cocked his head, as if listening to a quiet voice.

'Well?' inquired Tegan mischievously, 'What does she say?'

The Doctor gave her a withering look. 'She will not say why.' He seemed to come to a decision. 'I think I'd better put a stop to this.' His hand went down firmly on the red button.

There was instant chaos. The floor lurched and spun crazily. Tegan and Turlough clutched the console for support. Somewhere a great bell was clanging and the air was full of shrill alarms. The tea-tray vaulted from the stand. The china smashed noisily.

The Doctor lifted his hand from the red button. Things instantly returned to normal. He soothed the edge of the console. 'Alright, Old Girl, have it your own way, but I just hope you know what you're doing.'

By the time the mess had been cleaned up, the Time Rotor had ceased its slow rising and falling. The Doctor stood twiddling the scanner controls and critically observing the scene that flowed across the screen. Tegan went closer for a better look. 'It doesn't look very welcoming.'

The scene outside showed a winter wood land. Great trees reared, bare of leaf, against a grey sky.

Turlough asked: 'Are we going out?'

The Doctor adjusted some controls. He looked perplexed and irritated at the result. 'I think we may have to. The TARDIS is not going to let us leave. She would not do this without good reason. Whatever she has brought us here for must be out there somewhere?' He nodded at the scanner. He flicked a few more switches, looking thoughtful, then he retrieved his hat from the stand and headed for the doors. 'Put something warm on, it's cold,' he called back as he vanished through the doors.

Tegan and Turlough exchanged looks.

'We'd better get after him. You know how easily he finds it to get into trouble,' Tegan said. But Turlough was already heading for the closet where the cold weather clothes were.

The Doctor had not gone more than a dozen yards. When they came up to him, he was holding out a tiny electronic device in his hand and casting about with it. At last he settled his hat firmly and set off through the trees. 'This way - come on, you two!'

The trio moved among the trees, dwarfed by the towering boles. The bare branches were like many fingered hands, raised to the sky, imploring a gift of sun and warmth. The still air was chill. A thin drizzle sifted down, giving everything an unhealthy sheen. Their feet scuffed through a deep leaf litter, sending up a rich earthy smell of decay, which was not unpleasant. A smothering silence settled behind their footfalls, gathering amongst the trees, oppressing the spirit.

Tegan and Turlough huddled into their heavy cloaks; unaffected by the cold, the Doctor moved before them. They trudged on without speaking. At last, they came out into a large clearing. In the centre of the glade a bulky figure waited, still as a statue, hand upraised. At the feet of the creature was a bundle of cloth that, as they approached, they saw was the body of a woman. It was wrapped in a tattered and stained anti-radiation cloak. Beside the body gaped an open grave.

The Doctor, Tegan and Turlough, stopped beside the grave, opposite the little tableaux.

Only then did the Garm move. He lowered his massive arm and indicated the bundle of cloth at his feet. The Doctor moved around and knelt beside the thin, wasted body. He drew the cloak back from the woman's face. He smoothed away the tangle of dark hair to reveal her features. He must have expressed somehow the shock he felt, for he heard Tegan say:

'What is it, Doctor?' She moved around to get a look at the body.

The Doctor rose quickly and laid a hand on her shoulder. 'No! Tegan! Come away!' He added a forlorn: 'Please?' to her back as she brushed past him and looked down at the body.

A little strangled cry escaped her as she fell to her knees beside the corpse. 'No! Oh, please God! No!' She let out a low cry of shock and disbelief.

The familiar face gazed back up at her. Older than she remembered; the elfin beauty worn away by years of unremitting worry and frustration, haggard and drained by illness, but still retaining that air of solemn dignity.

Gently, tenderly, Tegan reached out and stroked the cold, dead cheek of Nyssa of Traken.

*******

The pain and shock in Tegan's eyes reproached him more eloquently than the words of anger, sorrow and grief she did not say. Her mute reproach hovered in the cold air between them like the ghost of Adric. What could she expect him to do? The unfairness of her unspoken accusation stung him. The Doctor betrayed nothing of what he felt, save that he could not meet Tegan's tear-bright eyes.

But Tegan had gone beyond unfairness. Not for the first time she pondered the "humanity" of this..."being"...before her. What did he really feel? Was this control a sham? A cover for a cold, alien indifference? Why did he have to be so...so...controlled?

Well, she had no cold, alien indifference; nor did she feel easy with such iron control. Without uttering a word she turned abruptly and walked away a few steps. Wrapping the heavy cloak about her, she gave herself up to the feelings of grief and loss, letting the tears come.

Off to one side, an onlooker to this little tragedy, Turlough stood, his eyes taking in everything.

At last the Garm stirred, breaking the stillness that had settled over the winter-stricken clearing.

He stretched out his fist to the Doctor. The Doctor knew, without having to be shown, what it contained. He had been aware of its presence since entering the glade. It spoke to him in a language without words.

A Gallifreyan Time Ring!

The Time Ring!

The one he had given to Nyssa when they had parted on the Terminus Construct.

The High Council would have been aghast had he seen fit to inform them. He had not. He would not have been able to explain wy he had done this rash and dangerous thing. They could not have understood. To them, after all, Nyssa was only an outlander, an alien - but most of all - an "ephemeral". For that was how they saw other, shorter lived races. He almost hated them for that.

Explaining his motives would have been impossible, especially as he was suspicious of them himself. At the time, he had told himself that it was to help her to communicate. A Time Ring remained tied to its host TARDIS and thus conveyed many of the benefits of a TARDIS. Language was only a small part of it. More importantly, it enabled Nyssa to "link" to the TARDIS.

Her birth and upbringing in the Traken Union had made her like all of those in the Union, a powerful, unconscious empath. Perhaps because of the strength of the loneliness and loss she sometimes radiated, the TARDIS had relented of its jealous and exclusive attachment to himself and opened itself to Nyssa. When he had discovered this, he had been touched and pleased that his TARDIS, whose animating intelligence, after all, contained facets of his own personality, had found such charity in its machine heart.

He could not judge exactly, but he felt certain that Nyssa had gained great solace and comfort from her empathic link.

The thought of Nyssa losing contact with that last pale ghost of the intimacy she had grown to womanhood under, in the Union, twisted his hearts painfully. So, he had given her the Time Ring, knowing the peril, knowing that he was taking a terrible risk and that in the eyes of his own kind he was committing a heinous crime.

But he had done it.

The Garm stooped and unfolded a bundle of green at his feet. Out from its folds he took, with care, a small nest of leaves. Nestling among them was a large silvery seed about twice the size of an acorn. This he placed inside the Time Ring that lay on his right palm. With his left hand he took up a woven circlet of evergreens. Solemnly, he placed the little crown over the Time Ring, which cradled the seed in its nest of leaves.

This done, he gathered up the bundle of green and rose. It rustled softly in the winter silence like the faint echo of a new summer's promise. He draped it over his left arm. It was a sort of cloak woven from slender shapely leaves, silvery green on one side, darker on the other. He stretched out his laden arms to the trio at the graveside, displaying the symbolic arrangement: Life, ruling Time, encompassing the promise of new Life.

He fixed his gaze upon the trees enclosing the clearing. Slowly he turned, showing his treasures to the trees. There was something of pleading in the set of his expressive body, pleading and a wilful defiance too. He turned until he had made a full circle. He stopped facing the little group - waiting.

The Doctor understood. Together they stooped to the body of Nyssa. The Doctor unwrapped her from the radiation cloak. Underneath she was dressed in stained white coveralls, with the insignia of The Terminus Corporation on the left breast. He sat back on his heels. The Garm offered his right hand to the Doctor. Tentatively, the Doctor took the little crown of evergreens, careful not to touch the Time Ring. He sensed that he should not, that it would in some way "taint" what was taking place here.

He smoothed the dark tangle of hair from the face, regarding it thoughtfully for a long moment. Then he eased the crown over the head and settled it on the brow. The Garm laid aside the cloak. With tenderness expressed in his every motion, delicately, he folded the hands over the heart and closed the thin white fingers around the Time Ring with its little bundle of leaves, which cradled the Life Seed.

His irreplaceable Life Seed.

The Gift of Life Eternal granted by the God Tree to its faithful gardeners.

With reverence, he bestowed the priceless gift upon his Little Queen. He gave it gladly, without hesitation or regret. With all his being he gave it, and in the giving of his Life Seed, gave away, with a singing heart, the promise of Life Eternal, his Doorway into Endless Summer.

At last things were arranged to the Garm's satisfaction. He took up the whispering cloak of green and together with the Doctor they wrapped the body in its embrace. The Garm turned his attention to Tegan and Turlough; he beckoned to them. Tegan went forwards and knelt beside the body. After a moment's hesitation, she reached out and stroked the pale cheek in farewell. She could find no words to say, and understood, deep inside, that none were necessary. Her silent farewell done, Tegan rose and went to stand by the Doctor.

The Garm looked pointedly at Turlough. He hung back a moment before coming to stand beside the Doctor and Tegan. He would come no further. The Garm's gaze moved to the Doctor, expectant. The Doctor felt suddenly awkward. He looked away, around at the trees fringing the clearing; they seemed to crowd closer in the gathering gloom. They too waited. Something was required of him, something important to complete the pattern. There were depths to this ritual that he felt keenly, but did not yet understand.

A gesture, perhaps? Yes, a gesture was needed. And he knew exactly what that gesture must be. He drew out the fresh piece of celery he habitually wore in his lapel. He regarded it uncertainly, ever the unwillingness to display his inner self restrained him. But for Nyssa...It was for Nyssa.

For it was Nyssa, of all the people he had travelled with, who had gotten under his guard so completely. Her grave dignity in the face of the catastrophe that had ripped apart her life and destroyed her happiness, filled him with a helpless admiration. Her isolation too, now that the Traken Union was broken, rang echoes from the deep places of his own mind where the fears and failed hopes of his own long life lurked.

And he could do nothing meaningful - until now.

For Nyssa, then. He gave Tegan a long look, gazing directly into her tear-filled eyes. Then he brushed his lips to the celery and stooping quickly, tucked the tiny sprig of green in among the leaves over the heart. As he rose, Tegan laid a hand softly on his arm.

'Thank you, Doctor,' she said simply.

The Garm looked from the Doctor to the body of Nyssa, then to the trees and back to the Doctor. He indicated his approval with the slightest nod of his head.

The Doctor released the breath he had not known he was holding. For the first time, since the death of Adric, he knew that he had done something right. With gentle strength the Doctor and the Garm took up the wasted body and laid it in the grave. Using his massive hands, the Garm began to fill the hole, moving the good rich earth with reverence and love. He was a Gardener of the God Tree - and he had great hopes for this day's planting.

The Doctor stood back and watched. Without any awkwardness now, he put his arm around Tegan's shoulders, and gave her a comforting squeeze.

In a very few minutes a low mound of earth marked the final home of Nyssa of Traken.

******

It began to rain in earnest from the louring sky. The Garm and the Doctor faced each other over the fresh grave. Neither moved, or gave any sign that they were other than statues.

Turlough shifted nervously; he did not want to be here. He scuffed his feet through the wet leaves, wishing he was elsewhere, even back in the TARDIS, which now seemed more of a sanctuary than it ever had before.

Tegan stood a few yards off, immobile, wrapped in her cloak and her memories of Nyssa. Vivid and persistent, they filled her numbed and grieving mind. They served only to emphasise her pain and loss. Nonetheless, she gathered them lovingly to herself; they were the only things of Nyssa remaining to her - the memories.

Nyssa's face, unguarded, vulnerable, framed by hair tousled from sleep, before she put on her habitual mask of serenity. The sound of her voice as she chattered happily. The long silences when she radiated isolation so strongly that Tegan sensed it, like a cold mist, enveloping her friend. The disappearances alone into the interior spaces of the TARDIS, for hours on end, when this mood took her. And the serene woman who was there when she returned, never telling Tegan where she had been, or what she had done, though she shared almost every other thought that came into her head.

So the images came, treading one upon the other. Tegan remembered the coolness of her skin as Nyssa spontaneously took her hand in a moment of elation, excitement or fear. Nyssa had a child's capacity to find great comfort in a simple human contact. She had even, on occasion, touched the Doctor with an easy affection, oblivious of his awkwardness - a thing that Tegan would never dare - though her affection for him was as strong.

Tegan fancied she could smell the delicate scent that Nyssa affected. It never quite masked the sharp tang of her alien physiology, but it was not an unpleasant odour, and of all the things remembered, it was the thing that most strongly evoked Nyssa for Tegan.

She drew in her breath in a long sigh, tasting Nyssa in the chill, damp air. She was suddenly beset by the conviction that Nyssa was somewhere close by. She felt that if she just concentrated hard enough, perhaps the fondly remembered form could be conjoured out of the gathering dark.

Then, with a start, she realised that the Garm was studying her with a frightening intensity. She looked a wordless question at the Doctor.

A grim little smile touched his lips. He reached out a hand to her. 'So, it is you, Tegan.'

'Me? What do you mean?'

'I think there is to be a Summoning.'

'A Summoning? I don't understand?'

'That is not necessary, Tegan. Do not try to understand - just follow your heart. It is to you to open the way. Turlough cannot, I...I must not - though our friend would have it so.' The Doctor nodded at the Garm.

'What am I supposed to do?'

'Just what you are doing now - remember Nyssa, remember her with love. And perhaps, if our friend here knows his business, and I feel that he does, then we, together, shall plant a new God Tree this day. But it is to you to show us the way, Tegan. Just think of Nyssa, and remember her with love.'

Think of Nyssa? Remember her with love? Nothing could be simpler; the memories pressed for her attention.

Nyssa running out of the sheer joy of being alive. Her cheeks flushing pink with the exertion, her dark hair flying, her stately Traken robes fluttering ridiculously. Nyssa's face, a comical study, delight and objectivity warring for control of her features, as she peered closely at a tiny blue flower. Nyssa's eyes, sparkling with a lively intelligence. Nyssa smiling, Nyssa frowning, Nyssa, Nyssa - in every aspect experienced by Tegan, filling Tegan's mind.

So absorbed was Tegan in her recollections of Nyssa that she was hardly aware when the Garm took her left hand in a firm but surprisingly gentle grip. Her right hand was taken by the Doctor. It was his voice, sharp, commanding, brooking no denial as he spoke to Turlough, that snapped her suddenly back to the grim reality of the graveside.

The Doctor was holding out his hand to Turlough. The reluctance was plain in Turlough's face, but whatever the Doctor had said to him overrode his desire to have nothing to do with this business. At last, with a little shrug, he took the Doctor's hand and gingerly extended his other to the Garm.

The Garm regarded the hand suspiciously. It was the one that had clutched the Controller's crystal. Turlough half withdrew it; he understood, with a sinking heart, that the Garm "knew". He tried hard to look away, to avoid meeting the Garm's penetrating gaze, but found that he could not. For long seconds the Garm held his eyes.

A subtle strength moved in Turlough's mind, probing his memories, scrutinising the very depths of his soul, ruthlessly at first, but then more gently. Abruptly, the Subtle Strength withdrew. It left only the ghost of an apology in his mind. It did not judge him.

The Garm felt deep unease about this new element that he had not foreseen. But it was too late to stop now, the Summoning could only be done once, and it was already begun. To waver in his resolve now could bring only a disastrous end of his hopes.

But the taint? If the Darkness got a hold and his strength was not sufficient to the containing of it, then his selfish desire might doom the God Tree itself to an eternal enslavement to a Dark Power of the universe. And with the Time Ring wedded to the Overmind, its almost limitless power an integral part of the God Tree, the potential evil that might be unleashed on the universe was terrifying.

The Garm sent a desperate plea to the trees standing aloof in the darkness; but the manifestations of the Overmind vouchsafed no answer. The decision was his to make. He sought counsel in the sky; the rain fell, indifferent to his dilemma. The others, like the trees, waited.

The decision was his. He took Turlough's hand.

At the moment the Circle was complete, the world staggered under their feet. A great roaring violence tore it into tatters, and whirled the shreds away, into howling darkness, leaving only madness where the world had been.

In the clearing stillness settled, stirred only by the pattering rain. Then, the air trembled with a dark, triumphal laughter. In the darkness under the trees, a patch of deeper blackness thickened and resolved itself into the figure of a tall man, robed in black.

The Black Guardian glided out of the trees, a smile of cruel satisfaction on his face.

Tegan cried out in sudden alarm. She had no sensation of self at all, save in her hands. She felt them held, felt a Subtle Strength flowing through them, maintaining the Circle, as the shrieking violence pounded and tore at them.

There came out of the chaos, an impression of a voice, that tasted of the Doctor, saying words that smelt of reassurance. 'Time Wash! The Time Ring - courage, Tegan, remember Nyssa!'

And she did! Miraculously, she did!

A world away, and yet only a short distance off, amongst the trees, a small light atop a blue box began to blink. The sound of dematerialisation disturbed the quiet of the winter woodland. Slowly, the tall blue box melted away.

******

The chaos stabalised around a voice.

'So, Doctor! Finally you come to beard the lion in his den?'

They had form again. They stood on a limitless plain of black sand. Low overhead, clouds of chaos raced madly from nowhere to nowhere. A black robed form stood regarding the four beings joined in a circle. About him danced sand devils, raised by a restless wind. The Guardian flowed nearer, focusing his attention on the Doctor.

'But how remiss of you to come into my domain without the protection of that infernal machine. I am almost disappointed at how easily your death has been accomplished, Doctor.'

The Doctor straightened a little. 'Many have thought that, but as you can see, I'm still alive.'

'Not for much longer. This is the Time Vortex, my domain. I make the rules here. Whatever I wish to be, will be, and if I decide that you are dead, then you are dead.'

'Then you'd better get on with it, hadn't you?'

The Guardian's face darkened. He pointed a bony clawed hand at the Doctor. 'First, you will watch these others die in agony.'

'Doctor -' Tegan started to say but the Doctor cut her off.

'It's all right, Tegan, while the Garm maintains the Circle, he can do nothing - and he knows it.'

Abruptly the Guardian's attention shifted to Tegan. He circled around past the Doctor, lingered a long thoughtful moment behind Turlough, who cringed away from him. He moved behind the Garm, giving him a malicious look, and finally came to stand at Tegan's left side. He pointed at the Doctor. 'Look at him!' he commanded. 'Do you think he cares what happens to you? He'll betray you in an instant to save his own skin.'

Tegan glared at the Guardian, struggling to suppress the fear that threatened to overwhelm her. 'No! You're wrong! He is good and kind and he wouldn't abandon us - not just to save himself.'

'Such loyalty, when he has betrayed you time and again. How many times has he promised that he will get you back home? Has he kept any of those promises? I can get you home, Tegan; all you have to do is let go. You owe him nothing! Think about it, Tegan, in a moment you could be home!'

Tegan turned her troubled gaze upon the Doctor. He met her gaze directly, his blue eyes full of confidence in her. He trusted her; she could do no less. She felt his hand give a little squeeze. 'I trust him with my life.'

'Foolish woman! Others have trusted him in the past and have paid dearly for that trust.' He took a step back, flinging out his arm. The voluminous sleeve seemed to unfold in to infinity, leaving the form of a boy standing blinking on the black sand. 'This one trusted him - I believe you know him?'

The boy's face lit up with a delighted smile. 'Tegan!'

'Adric?'

The mouthing of the name awoke old hurts and resentments against the Doctor in her. In a tiny, hidden away dark corner of her mind, she had unconsciously nursed her bitterness against him. It was just the sort of dark thing that the Guardian could use.

'He could have saved him, had he really wanted to,' the Guardian purred persuasively in Tegan's ear. 'Ask him!'

She rounded on the Doctor. He did not look so confident now.

'Tegan...there was nothing I could do. I told you -'

'You told me a lot of things. How would I know if you were lying to me?'

'I would never lie to you, Tegan, you know that.' He fixed the Guardian with a stern look. 'He's the one who is lying to you. Adric is dead!'

The Guardian leaned in close again. 'But he can live again - all you have to do is let go.'

For long seconds Tegan struggled with her old hurts and griefs. She knew that the Doctor was right - that it was a trick; but the anger and resentment was strong within her; and she was fighting a losing battle with herself.

'Tegan? You must believe me!'

The desperate, almost pleading, tone in his voice chimed in her mind releasing a memory of the last time she had heard that sound. Tegan remembered the look on the Doctor's face, from that time before. That time when he had come almost to begging with her and Nyssa not to ask him the question that was in their minds; as if he feared he would weaken and try to go back and save Adric. Adric's death was a nodal point in time; it was also walled about by the Blinovitch Limitation, and he was afraid that he might try with God knew what terrible consequences for the universe. Tegan sensed the Black Guardian's hand in that moment of desperation. But it was that look of helplessness that swayed her.

She felt, instinctively, that none should witness such helplessness in a being of such consummate strength and self possession. The anger went out of her. She saw in that moment it was not really hers at all - but a dark thing nurtured by the Black Guardian, for his own evil ends. In that moment she found forgiveness for the Doctor - a real forgiveness, and the beginnings of a true understanding of the dilemma of his existence.

With growing relief the Doctor saw the birth of the new perspective surface in Tegan's eyes. 'Thank you, Tegan,' he breathed.

Adric stepped up beside her. 'You can't forgive him?' the boy said incredulously. 'He could have saved me!'

She regarded the figure coldly. 'You're not Adric - Adric is dead!'

'Then you must avenge me, Tegan. I will not rest easily until I am avenged!'

'No!' she said sharply. 'You are not Adric, he would not have wanted that!'

A look of hurt and betrayal came into his eyes. 'Tegan? I thought you were my friend?'

'I was...am Adric's friend - you are not Adric!'

The Adric thing half extended a hand towards her. 'Tegan? Please?'

The pleading in the voice and the look of betrayal in the eyes wrenched at Tegan's heart. She tried to look away, to stop her ears to the plaintiff cry, but could not. She told herself over and over that it was not the Adric she had known - could not be - Adric was dead!

The Adric thing gave a pathetic wail that encapsulated more hopelessness and despair than Tegan felt could have existed in the universe. The forlorn cry trailed into silence. The thing seemed to shrink back and shrivel. Cracks ran over the boyish face and black sand seeped from under the skin. It began to sift from eyes, nose and ears. Before Tegan's horrified gaze the Adric thing decomposed, collapsing into a shapeless mound of sand, which rose up and danced eerily in the chill wind. The sand slithered around Tegan's ankles, oozing coldly over her feet. She cringed from the touch, but kept the Circle intact. She trembled violently and tried not to retch up her last meal.

'Courage, Tegan,' said the Doctor quietly. 'Remember, he is helpless if the Circle endures.'

The Black Guardian moved. He circled around behind the Doctor and stopped behind Turlough, standing close, looming over him. He seemed more a hole cut in the fabric of the world, in the shape of a man, rather than anything substantial. The rising wind seemed to be rushing out through the man shaped hole. It made Turlough's hair writhe and coil like a living thing. The heavy cloak flapped and snapped, straining towards the darkness, as if trying to drag Turlough into the abyss.

The shadow on the world spoke at last. 'Up till now I have only been sporting with you, Doctor, amusing myself by tormenting your companions; but now, it is time for you to die! What you say is indeed true, while the Circle endures you are safe. But, Doctor, all I have to do is break the Circle!'

His bony hand fell suddenly upon Turlough's shoulder; the fingers bit cruelly into the flesh. Turlough cried out in pain and writhed violently but the Doctor clung onto his hand with all his Time Lord strength. The rising wind of chaos battered at the Circle. Black shapes, like gigantic hounds, formed themselves from the writhing sand and rose to stalk about the Circle. Loosing a demented baying, the Chaos Hounds closed in upon the little group.

'Let go! Boy! Remember our bargain! Let go and you will not suffer the fate of these other fools.'

'He's lying, Turlough! He means to kill us all!' The Doctor's voice was a very small thing, almost lost in the screaming of the wind and the baying of the Chaos Pack.

'Don't listen to him, boy; we have a bargain. Just let go and you will be home, remember home, boy? You can be there in an instant.'

Turlough's panicky, pain filled eyes darted about, taking in the snarling hounds, the black sand that was coiling about his legs, squeezing all feeling out of them. Soon it would be around his middle - then his throat. In a glance, he took in the look of helpless determination on the Doctor's face, the statue-like immobility of the Garm and the terrified face of Tegan. He saw no help anywhere.

With horror the Doctor watched Turlough's decision form in his fear contorted features. There was nothing he could do!

*******

Tegan's sharp voice cut across the Doctor's desperation. 'Turlough! PLEASE! Turlough!'

It was a long time since anyone said "please" to Turlough, and really meant it. The word touched something deep inside, a corner which the Black Guardian had not soiled with his promises and threats, a place where the events of Turlough's turbulent life had not yet soured. He stiffened and straightened. For the first time his direct gaze held Tegan's, devoid of any shadow of the habitual deceit. 'No! I will not do it!'

'What! You dare to disobey me, boy!'

The shout of rage was accompanied by a cruel twisting of his fingers in Turlough's shoulder. Turlough screamed in agony, but he hung on. The black sand flew into a frenzy, redoubling its efforts to strangle the life out of him.

'Then die! Fool!'

The huge black hounds closed in, their tooth studded muzzles dripping. Wherever the splashes touched, the sand boiled and sizzled, giving off a sulfurous stench.

Tegan gritted her teeth and willed him to resist. She looked desperately to the Doctor for help. He had an oddly preoccupied look on his face, his head was cocked slightly on one side, as if straining to hear some far off sound over the pandemonium all about them. He seemed not to notice the peril they were in.

The chaos of the sky fell in upon them. Once more the world exploded into madness. The sense of self dissolved, leaving only the Circle and the contact of the joined hands.

Then Tegan felt the Summoning. It was not for her, but sent through her, the Summoning put forth by the Subtle Strength. Compelling and insistent, it called into the madness, a steadfast beacon, a lighthouse for a soul lost in an illimitable sea. Slowly, too slowly, a sense of something "real" coalesced out of the chaos.

Through the contact of her hands, Tegan was aware of Turlough's fingers slipping inexorably from the Doctor's grasp. Far off and faint at first, but drawing closer and gaining in strength, came an echo of a memory of a sound of something familiar. It sharpened, became the materialisation of the TARDIS. Order grew upon the chaos. A ghostly image of the TARDIS formed around them. Order prevailed.

The little group stood in a vague impression of the TARDIS control room, their hands joined around the central console. The Time Rotor rose and fell - its smooth motion defining the reality. Seen through the wavering walls, stars looked on with cold indifference.

The quiet internal humming of the TARDIS filled Tegan's soul. She relaxed into it, allowing it to sooth her jangling nerves. It had never sounded quite so like a human voice, crooning a soothing lullaby, as it did now. Optimism and confidence seeped back into her. She turned to the Doctor. 'Well? What happens next?'

The Doctor regarded the presence of the Black Guardian. Now only a purple shadow oozing around the walls, the sole manifestation he was capable of here. 'I'm not sure. I don't think the Guardian can act directly any more - he is constrained by the White Guardian here in this bubble of real time. But just how stable this is I'm not sure. I don't know how long the TARDIS can maintain the bubble.'

Tegan looked to the Garm; until now he had been as impassive and immobile as a statue; but now he was stirring. He trembled all throughout his bulk. His heavy head swung to the right, gazing past Tegan's shoulder. She craned her head around to see what it was that had drawn his attention.

There was nothing, save the door to the TARDIS interior. The moment Tegan's gaze fell upon it, a greenish golden haze suffused it. It became more real. The stars shining distantly through it dimmed and the door took on a more solid appearance than the rest of the room. It began to open.

Tegan caught her breath at the thing that hovered there, framed in the doorway. It had the form of Nyssa, but it was wavering and insubstantial. It rippled like the walls, as if seen through a heat haze. The figure stabalised under her eyes, growing more solid.

Tegan grew aware of a tugging sensation deep inside her mind. The touch was light as gossamer threads settling. They wove carefully about all her memories of Nyssa, and drew them forth. She surrendered them gladly and without stint.

Soon the thing becoming Nyssa took on the form Tegan most vividly remembered - dressed in the blue outfit she had worn before the Terminus. Tegan understood with certainty that it was Nyssa, really nyssa, not some foul construct of the Guardian.

She moved into the room. The purple shadow came to block her way; but she dismissed it with a withering look. It darkened and pulsed with impotent rage; but the Guardian could not interfere here.

Nyssa turned to face Tegan over the central console, looking between the Doctor and Turlough.

The heart first. It had always been the heart first with Nyssa, seen between the head and the potential indifference of the intellect. She locked eyes with Tegan for a moment then she moved again. When she stopped, she once more locked eyes with Tegan, this time between Turlough and the Garm, caught between detachment and commitment. She drank it all in.

Her eyes next fell upon the Doctor, seen between the Garm and Tegan - softening the harshness of the intellect with the viewpoint from the heart and the emotions, engendering compassion.

So she moved, each time gazing across the console at one or other of them, constantly changing the viewpoint, and with each stop, taking something from them, adding it to her own being.

She did not once look to the Garm.

Now, with eyes full of Nyssa's well remembered intelligence, her face alive with understanding, she stopped between the Doctor and Tegan. Stepping up to the Circle, she laid her hands over those of the Doctor and Tegan.

The shadow slid closer, expectant, watchful, awaiting its chance to strike. It would triumph yet!

Neither resisted as she gently eased the hands apart and became part of the Circle. The Subtle Strength pulsed and throbbed in the Circle. The figure of Nyssa seemed to shimmer in a golden green haze.

Understanding and knowledge of what was necessary was in Tegan. She drew up the Garm's hand and held it out to the Doctor. Nyssa drew up the Doctor's and joined it to the Garm's. Then, without having broken the Circle, Tegan and Nyssa stepped away to form a smaller unit of two.

A brilliant smile lit up Nyssa's features. 'Hello, Tegan, You have been a long time coming for me.'

'I did not know the way at first.'

'But you found the way.'

Tegan glanced at the Garm. 'Yes, with help. But it was a long way.'

'And further yet to go. Will you show me the rest of the way, Tegan?'

'Gladly, and it is not so far now - just a few steps.'

'Shall we go then; I am anxious to be there.'

'Let us go then.'

Tegan took one long look around the console room; it had grown distant and vague. The three figures enclosing the console were stiff, unmoving, and seemed to have passed behind a veil, to have gone beyond into some other reality. She let one of Nyssa's hands drop and reaching up stroked the cheek, the cool, but warmly alive cheek of her friend.

'Yes, let us go. It is not far now, Nyssa, and I know the way.' Tegan led her to the outer doors of the TARDIS. As the pair approached them, they swung inwards. Beyond was a dazzling golden-green light. Without hesitation, Tegan stepped out into the brilliance, drawing Nyssa after her.

The unendurable power of the light made patterns dance on the retinas of Tegan's eyes. She squeezed them shut, trying to ward off the light. Then she blinked rapidly. The dancing patterns of light resolved themselves into sunlight dappling a tree trunk a few feet in front of her.

A warm summer breeze playfully ruffled her hair. It was full of the most beautiful bird song. Puzzled, Tegan looked around. A few yards away, sprawled on his winter cloak, on a low bank, was Turlough. He was face to face with a large green and gold bird, which every so often let out a low musical whistle. The bird kept turning its head from side to side, regarding Turlough with first one great golden eye, then another. It was completely at ease.

Nearby, the Doctor stood, his hand held out. Perched on the wrist was another bird, all reds and blues. The pair of them were regarding each other with wary appraisal. The world had suddenly become a riot of growing things. Flowers, painted gaily in eye catching colours, thrust out everywhere from vivid greenery. Their scents assailed her senses, heady and overpowering. Gone was the bleak mid-winter scene of a moment before. She looked up at the beautiful tree under which they stood. The branches were splendid with a summer decoration of slender, shapely leaves, silvery on one side, darker on the other. In and out among the leaves brightly plumed birds of many kinds hopped and fluttered; it was they who were filling the air with he entrancing melody of sound.

Off to one side stood the Garm, a bird on each shoulder. He was gazing up at the tree with an expression of profound satisfaction evident in the set of his bulky frame.

And somewhere, nearby, was Nyssa. The sense of her presence was so strong that Tegan began to peer around, expecting at any moment to catch sight of her friend. She breathed the name: 'Nyssa'. A shiver ran up the tree and set the leaves trembling.

She slipped off the cloak, folded it, allowed it to drop to the grass. The movement started the bird from the Doctor's arm. It launched itself in a flutter of wings and whirred away up into the branches. The Doctor shifted as if waking from a deep sleep.

'Ah - Tegan, I was wondering how long you would be finding your way back?'

'What happened? One minute it was winter, and now...' she trailed off gazing around again, half expecting the scene to fade and be replaced by the gaunt, bare winter landscape.

'And now it's summer,' the doctor finished for her.

'But, how...how did we get here?'

'We've been here all the time.' The Doctor waved an arm to indicate the scene around them.

Tegan studied her surroundings more closely. It was the same clearing, transformed into summer, but undeniably the same clearing - except...except for the beautiful tree. How long did a tree like that take to grow? 'This tree wasn't here before.'

'No.'

'How did it get here?'

'I rather think we planted it. It's a fine specimen - don't you think?'

Tegan's gaze travelled up the elegant trunk. 'But it's so big! It must have taken years to grow?'

The Doctor regarded the tree thoughtfully. 'Oh, I should think a good fifty years - Earth years, of course - to get that big.'

'And we've been here all that time?'

'Not exactly, We have been here but only in one sense, in another, we have travelled forward in time as well.' 'How? I can't remember anything about it. One minute we were in the rain, and then...Doctor, what happened?'

'Ah, well, that might be a little difficult to explain.'

'Try. You always say that when you don't want to be bothered.'

The Doctor made an attempt at looking hurt, but his heart was not really in it. 'The simple answer is that we have moved forward in time, courtesy of the Time Ring, and the Garm.'

'And the not so simple explanation?'

'That might be a little tricky. Do you remember the bracelet that the Garm put in Nyssa's hands?'

Tegan nodded.

'Well that was a Time Ring - '

'A what?'

'A Time Ring, it's a sort of...well you know that spaceships have emergency craft, well, the Ring is a sort of auxiliary craft for the TARDIS.'

'I see. But how did the Garm get hold of one; I should think that was not something to leave lying around.'

'They're not...I gave that one to Nyssa when we parted.'

'Why?'

'Well, ah... It seemed the right thing to do at the time.'

Tegan was instantly aware of the Doctor's awkwardness. She did not press the point. She knew the Doctor well enough to know that pursuing him on the matter would only lead to a change of subject. She pushed her hair back from her face, surprised to find it still wet. She shrugged. When the Doctor said it would be tricky, it was usually mind boggling and quite pointless for her to try and understand. She wiped her damp hand on her skirt and said with an overpowering feeling of deja vue: 'Well, what happens next?'

The Doctor's eyes twinkled with amusement. 'I suppose, since you've brought us all this way, Tegan, it might be as well to say a hello to Nyssa!'

*****

Tegan tentatively laid a palm on the trunk of the tree. At the moment of contact, her perception exploded; multiplying a thousand fold, so that she seemed to be experiencing everything from everywhere at once. She squeezed her eyes tight shut.

The impact of it sent her mind reeling. After the first shock had slammed through her, she grew aware of a "more than real" quality to the sensations. The gross intensity of the experience was painful. It was like her own senses were shouting at her in a dozen different languages, none of which she understood, and from everywhere at once.

The hand she held to the tree was taken in a firm, reassuring grip. Upon the instant things shrank back into a single point of focus, and lost intensity. A well remembered voice spoke to her. 'Oh! Tegan! I am sorry - I should have been more careful. Your people do not know Union. Forgive me?'

'What...What happened? What is all that... that...noise?'

'It is life - life as experienced by the Overmind. Open your eyes, Tegan, it will not be so vivid now. I have found the level that you can tolerate.'

Gingerly Tegan opened her eyes. The world still seemed too real, but it was bearable, especially now that the everywhere aspect had gone from her perception. But she hardly noticed any of that as her eyes fell upon the form of Nyssa, who now stood before her, where the tree had been. She was grinning broadly and squeezing her hand.

It was the Nyssa that Tegan remembered. Not the aged and withered thing she had seen in the rain by the grave side. She even wore the blue outfit that Tegan had last seen her wearing on the Terminus. A great surge of affection filled her. She threw her arms about her friend and hugged her laughing. Nyssa hugged her back joyfully. At last Tegan pulled away, studying her friend.

'Oh! Nyssa! I've missed you. Is it really you?'

'Yes, Tegan, it really is me! It is really good to see you, too! Come on! Let us go for a walk - I have so much to tell you.'

Nyssa set off among the riotous greenery, tugging her friend after her. As they walked and talked Tegan grew aware of something, lots of somethings, moving among the trees. She could not bring them into focus. They were always at the edges of her vision, and always vanished when she turned her gaze full upon them. The woods about them seem to be bustling with the "ghosts". She wanted to ask Nyssa about them but her friend was talking earnestly and Tegan felt no desire to interrupt her.

'...It was the Garm, it is his doing. The longer I worked on the Terminus the more I felt an affinity for him. We are very similar beings, the Garm and I. We both seemed to have lost the single central pillar of our existence. The Union is broken - that joy is lost to me forever. And the Garm seems to have been cut off from the Overmind, of which he is but a part, as I was a part of the Union - We consoled each other in our isolation.'

They stopped by a large bush with weeping boughs. Cold, blue flowers grew all along the branches. When the breeze stirred the bush, it became a waterfall of blossoms, fixed in place, yet seeming to cascade endlessly. Tegan stroked one of the swaying blooms; it gave off a strong, sharp scent. She turned to study Nyssa as she began speaking again.

'He kept me sane. I suppose I must have been on the Terminus twenty or more of your years, I do not really know, it was so hard to keep track of time; there was so much to do all the while. Because of my work there, the efficiency of the place went up and the Corporation kept on sending more and more ships in to us.'

She broke off to cup a delicate, golden bloom in her free hand. She savoured the scent of it, then held it out to Tegan, who drew in the perfume deeply. 'Heavenly,' she breathed.

'Without his sure support I might have walked off into the Dead Zone a dozen times when things were really bad.'

'You're not like that, Nyssa!' Tegan said. She found the idea of Nyssa giving up unsettling. To cover her sudden disquiet Tegan plucked the flower and set it into Nyssa's hair. She stood back to regard the effect.

'The dark and the work gets to you after a while. I doubt if I would have lived more than a few years without the Garm watching over me. He has a great reverence for life.' She fingered the flower in her hair. 'Please don't pick the flowers, Tegan, they cry and it troubles the Garm so.'

'I'm sorry, I didn't know.'

Nyssa stroked her cheek with a soothing hand. 'It is all right. It was a nice gesture, but here, life, all life is sacred. The time of a flower is so fleeting; and if you pick it, it has bloomed in vain.'

It was the gentlest reproof.

They wandered on among the trees in silence for a while, before Nyssa spoke again. 'After the control device was broken, he could have left at any time, but he stayed to help. Sometimes his reverence for life and living things terrified me. Tegan - it burns in him like a nova - He is the Life Force personified.'

'I'm glad he stayed - but...how did he come to be there? It doesn't seem to be the right sort of place for him. All that darkness, death and suffering - he seems far more "right" here among the trees.'

'The Corporation put him there. They needed a porter for a "hospital" they were planning, one who was immune to radiation -'

'The Terminus?'

'Yes, they found him when one of their companies came here to this planet, thinking to pillage it of all its natural treasures. The Overmind "forbade" them.'

Tegan marvelled at the authority and purpose that could be squeezed into such a small word as "forbade". Some deep instinct told her that she did not want to know what the Overmind had done to encourage the rapacious minions of the Corporation to leave its world.

'When they went they took the Garm with them. What they could not know is that he went willingly. He is part his own self and part like a leaf on a branch of the Overmind. Where he goes so a part of the Overmind goes and "knows" what its Gardner knows. The Overmind had never encountered completely independent self-willed individual creatures before. It was curious about them. It let the Garm go to gather information for it, but something was not right and he could not find a path back to his God Tree. It was something to do with the control device. So he was trapped there, cut off from the Overmind.'

'But it was broken, the Doctor broke it.'

'Yes, but by then he had become trapped by his need to care for the Lazars. There really was no choice for him. With the device broken he could "touch" the Overmind although only in a tenuous way. It was the distance, I think. And the Overmind was still curious about the self- willed beings - so he stayed.'

Nyssa fell silent a long moment. Tegan watched the dark thoughts chasing across her features. She waited patiently for her to go on. When she did it was in a reluctant and sombre tone. 'At some time, I am not sure when exactly, the radiation must have got me and...and..I must have died. I have no memory of it, the Overmind blocks me, but I am glad of that, I do not really want to see myself die.'

Tegan laid a hand over their joined hands. 'But you're not dead.'

'No, and it is thanks as much to you and the Doctor as to the Garm.'

'Why? What did we do?'

'You showed me the way back. Your strength of feeling for me was a shining beacon to guide me back into life. You were the voice to call, and the Garm was the strength to reach me.'

'I don't remember doing anything.'

'You remembered me with love. That was all that was needed. Turlough does not know me well enough to and the Doctor...well, the Doctor has certain...difficulties. But he did something else just as important. He gave me a Time Ring.'

'He told me about the Time Ring. It brought us all here.'

'It carried me here too, Tegan. I was dead, or rather my body was dead, but my mind, the essential me, had been in direct mind to mind contact with the TARDIS through the Ring every second from the moment I put it on my wrist. If you like it...recorded... me into its data banks, I sort of became a sub-system of the TARDIS - though, it was not really like that at all.'

'You mean you were inside the TARDIS all the time?'

'Yes. I tried all the time to call to you.'

Tegan turned to face her, and gazed wonderingly into Nyssa's brown eyes. 'I used to dream of you, very vivid dreams, you seemed to be trying to tell me something, or comfort me, but I could never quite catch what it was you were trying to say.'

'I did break through, then. I was never sure.'

They wandered on a few yards and stopped again while Tegan cupped another beautiful creamy coloured flower in her free hand; but with reverence this time. She drew in the heady scent of it. 'That's thee most gorgeous scent I've ever smelt. If I could bottle it, I could make a fortune.'

'So thought the Corporation, but I doubt it.'

'Why?'

'Because you are experiencing it through the Overmind; your senses are much sharper than normal.'

Tegan let the flower go and turned to face her friend once more. 'I feel somehow that you are far more than the Nyssa I knew.'

Nyssa laughed lightly. 'Yes, the Nyssa you knew, and the Nyssa you never met, and so much more than I could make you understand, even with the Overmind enhancing your senses.'

For a moment, Tegan sensed something behind and beyond her friend. Something old in years beyond counting, wise beyond understanding, and full to overflowing with a love of life. The vastness of it staggered her mind. Then Nyssa reasserted herself and came to the fore once more.

They strolled on again in silence while Tegan tried to digest what she had just experienced. Several time she went to speak but found no words. There were simply no words adequate to describe what had just touched her mind.

As they strolled among the whispering trees, she watched the things that were not there. The woods were alive with them. They constantly defied her every attempt to bring them into sharp focus. They slid around the edges of her vision. Tegan found it very aggravating. Her eyes, despite her best efforts, kept on trying to capture them.

She turned to Nyssa, a question forming on her lips. Nyssa squeezed her hand reassuringly and grinned at her. Then, deliberately she turned her gaze upon one of the fugitive ghosts. Tegan gasped with surprise as the thing solidified as soon as Nyssa looked directly at it. It was the Garm - or rather it was a Garm. She knew, somehow, that it was not Nyssa's Garm.

The Garm raised a hand in greeting. A warm sense of friendship flowed over her. A voice, vast yet intimate, spoke in her mind. 'You are welcome here, Pathway of the Little Queen.'

The moment that Nyssa's gaze moved back to her from the Garm, the thing faded into a ghost, a mere presence without form or substance. 'What -?'

'It is a Gardner who has gained his reward. There are thousands all around.' She waved. For a fleeting instant the woods were alive with real creatures. 'They are the People. They have chosen not to have substance in the manner that you do, Tegan, but they experience life as strongly - perhaps more so. Surely it is not such a surprise to you? Why - your own world has its Gardeners!'

Tegan's jaw dropped in surprise. 'You're not telling me there're Garms on Earth?'

'Not Garms - but do not all the peoples of your world have tales of Wood Nymphs, of spirits that live in trees - surely you have heard of them?'

'Yes...You mean they are...real, not just stories?'

'I do not see why they should not be. I am certain that there is an Overmind on Earth - but a primitive one that has only marginal intelligence. I remember a programme on your "television" about a giant fungus that lived in the soil of a Canadian forest. It joined tree to tree, acting like a nervous system for the forest. That is the origin of my Overmind here, only it spans the world and knows itself. Here it connects not only the things that grow in the good earth but also the free moving life. All are one, and each is separate.'

As they turned to go on, Tegan caught her foot in a root. She let go Nyssa's hand and went sprawling on the ground. Laughing, she got to her feet. She was back in the clearing in front of the tree. Turlough still sprawled over his cloak and the Doctor still stood a few yards off. the Garm was still regarding the tree. Of Nyssa there was no sign. She frowned in puzzlement.

Had it all been a dream?

*****

'We can't just go away and leave her here.' 'But we're not leaving her behind, Tegan. Wherever we go in future, or in the past for that matter, Nyssa can be there.'

'I don't understand, is she still in the TARDIS memory banks?'

'Not now, she has gone to her new home with the Overmind. I think she will be very happy; she was never truly herself as an individual being. For her joining the Overmind is like you returning to some beloved place where everything and everyone is familiar - a place you thought lost forever -' The Doctor stopped abruptly. Was he really saying these things? The ambience of this planet was getting under his guard. He was straying into an area where he did not feel "secure".

Had a troop of Cybermen come storming through the trees at that moment, guns blazing, or a Dalek death squad closed in around them, he would have known exactly what to do, and done it. But these "personal" areas were like swamps. He understood them only in the manner of a man standing at the edge with a map surveying the landscape, eyeing the features dubiously. But as he did not have to live there, he could see little or no reason for venturing far into that particular quagmire.

'The Time Ring is a part of the Overmind now, part of Nyssa, she can go anywhere in time and space -'

'Time travelling trees!' said an incredulous Turlough from where he lay.

The Doctor considered this for a long moment, then a mischievous grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. 'What a ridiculous idea, Turlough.' He turned back to Tegan. 'I have the feeling that the High Council will want to have a few words with me about this - when they find out - and I think it might be as well to let a little time pass - say a few centuries - before then; give them time to calm down a bit. We really must be going, Tegan. This nice little planet is going to be overrun with some very irritated Time Lords looking for explanations. I'd rather not be here when they arrive. You'd better say goodbye to Nyssa.'

Tegan stretched her arms as far around the tree as she could reach, and laid her cheek against the soft bark. She hugged it fiercely. A slow shiver ran up the trunk and through the branches, setting the leaves to trembling. 'We have to go, Nyssa, the Doctor is anxious to be off again.'

'It is his way, Tegan, you have travelled with him long enough to know that.'

Tegan sighed. 'Yes, but it still annoys me.'

'I expect there is a galaxy somewhere that needs saving, some injustice that needs setting right; you know how impossible he finds it to pass by on the other side. In the eyes of his people, I fear, it is a sad failing; but I am rather fond of him the way he is.'

'So am I,' Tegan admitted. 'Though I'm not sure if it means anything to him.'

'More than he could ever admit to you, Tegan. Make sure you take good care of him - he walks a very lonely road.'

'I'll do my best but you know how he is.'

Nyssa nodded. 'I know you will do your best - but you must go now, Tegan. I will never forget you.'

'I'll not forget you either.'

Nyssa reached up a gentle hand. She touched it to Tegan's cheek where a tear glistened. 'Brave Heart! Tegan! There is no need for tears, this need only be a brief parting - Soon I shall be able to go wherever I please in time and space. I shall search you out wherever you are and come to you.'

'Don't leave it too long.'

'As soon as I am able - I promise. Farewell, Tegan.'

'Goodbye, Nyssa.' Her eyes shining, Tegan gave her friend one more fierce hug and stepped away. There was a brief moment of disorientation, then she came back to herself. She looked up at the Doctor. He was clutching his ridiculous hat and looking awkward and wistful at the same time. 'Doctor? Aren't you going to say goodbye to Nyssa?'

He let his breath out in a long sigh and looked down at her, then at Turlough, then to the Garm and finally to the tree. His gaze travelled slowly up to the branches bedecked with the slender, shapely leaves. He remained like that for a long time. She had never seen him look so uncomfortable. And was that fear? She turned away; it was somehow indecent to witness such distress.

The moment of stillness stretched out; but it would not be put off forever. He sighed again and stretched out a hand, hesitated another long moment, then with sudden decisiveness, touched the tips of his fingers to the tree. His eyes remained open, but they were unfocused now, seeing into another and vaster aspect than the little clearing. At last the Doctor dropped his hand from the tree.

In the branches overhead there was a great commotion as the flock of birds all took flight at once. It swirled around like a rainbow hued cloud pulsing and rippling, dipped low over their heads then rose in a joyous swoop to drive up into the blue. They left behind a sweet threnody of sound quivering in the air which thinned slowly away among the trees.

The Doctor turned purposefully to Turlough, who leapt to his feet. Shaking his head and backing away, he said firmly: 'I'm not touching the tree!'

'It's all right, Turlough. Nyssa understands. She bids you farewell and offers you these words: Remember the light! And choose your way carefully - for the path you must tread is a road with few turnings! Nyssa says that you will understand.'

The last glimpse Tegan had, the one that remained with her always, was of the Garm, his bulk diminished by distance, standing among the trees. He was gazing fondly up at his Nyssa Tree. And, as she watched, a splendidly plumed bird, all golds, greens and blues, swooped to settle upon his shoulder. It perched there, for all the world as though in earnest conversation with him.

Then the other trees intervened and she saw no more of the Garm and his Nyssa Tree.

He had no regrets. The Nyssa Tree was a fine sturdy specimen, worthy of his sacrifice. And, he knew, he had many seasons yet to spend tending the needs of his Nyssa Tree. And the God Tree was good. It might yet relent and grant the gift of another Life Seed to its wayward Gardener; even though that Gardener had chosen to labour in another place, to reverence life other than the God Tree. Yes, there was always hope of a gift of a new Life Seed from the God Tree. And should that gift be granted - He knew just the spot for his final home...Just there, on that little rise where he could watch over the palace of the Little Queen who had so grown into his heart. If not, well, he could think of no finer thing than the tending of his beloved Nyssa Tree.

The end