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gouged in the stones so that one could get back up.
Ixta had been on the point of challenging them, but the
torch had frightened him, so he remained concealed. ‘You
stay guard, Chesterton,’ the Doctor said as Ian wriggled
backwards out of the hole.
‘No, Doctor, you stay guard, I’ll go in.’
‘Then both of us will go,’ the Doctor insisted.
Ian grinned. ‘You’re hardly dressed for a spelaeological
crawl,’ he observed as he handed the torch to the Doctor.
Instinctively, Ixta cowered back behind the bushes,
wondering what magic Ian possessed to be able to make
light without fire.
Ian turned around and slid, feet first, into the hole.
Reaching the bottom of the tunnel would mean about a
two-foot drop once he released the outside of the hole, as
the greased lining would not allow him to hold on.
‘If all goes well, Doctor,’ he said cheerfully, ‘I’ll meet
you at the garden gate again.’
‘Good luck, Chesterton,’ the Doctor replied as Ian let go
and dropped from sight.
As he hit the bottom of the tunnel his feet shot out from
underneath him and he grabbed the handholds to keep his
balance.
‘Here’s the torch. Catch,’ the Doctor called and threw it
into the hole.
lan grabbed it and shone the light first in one direction
and then in the other. The base and sides of the tunnel
were square but the top was vaulted. One way was about
ten feet long and ended at what appeared to be a wall.In the
other direction the tunnel stretched beyond the range of
the torch towards the temple. Ian crouched to enter the
tunnel but the bottom was too slippery so he got down on
all fours realising that, joking aside, he really was in for a
time-consuming spelaeological crawl.
With the lit torch clamped between his teeth and
protruding from his mouth, Ian made his way along the
tunnel.
The Doctor watched as the light reflected off the walls
faded, until it disappeared altogether. Having regained his
courage now that Ian’s magic light had gone, Ixta watched
the Doctor as he bent down to examine the stone. He tried
to lift it but it was too heavy. Then he noticed the two
handles hewn in the back and realised that it could be slid
into place from the inside, convincing him that he had not
sent Ian off on a wild goose chase.
Silently Ixta crept away towards the garden door which
he opened and slammed shut. The Doctor heard the noise
and re-arranged the bougainvillea, but part of the stone
remained visible. Then he sauntered away along the path.
Ixta selected one that would enable him to intercept the
Doctor. He wandered along it, admiring the night sky.
When he met the Doctor he smiled. ‘I greet the aged
servant of Yetaxa.’ He bowed. ‘It is a pleasant night to walk
abroad.’
‘Yes, I couldn’t sleep so I thought a stroll in the garden
would be agreeable,’ the Doctor replied.
‘We are well met,’ Ixta said, ‘for I would talk to you
about Ian, with whom I must soon dispute the command of
our armies.’ He walked down the path the Doctor had
come along, making sure that he was on the wall side.
‘Oh, yes’?’ the Doctor was obliged to turn back.
‘I do not believe I can defeat him,’ Ixta admitted, ‘for, as
the servant of Yetaxa, he has powers of which I know
nothing.’
‘True,’ the Doctor concurred, glancing at the partially
visible stone out of the corner of his eye.
‘Thus we are unfairly matched in any contest,’ Ixta
stated.
‘Inevitably, I suppose.’
‘Then what am I to do? Of all Aztec warriors I am the
most fit to command,’ he edged his may towards the stone,
‘I have proved myself again and again, but I am no match
for the servant of a God.’
The Doctor took Ixta by the arm and tried to steer him
away from the stone. ‘What you say is true.’ The Doctor
tugged at him gently. ‘And I shall ask Yetaxa to demand
that Ian renounces his role as a Chosen Warrior.’
‘Would you do that for me?’ Ixta exclaimed and,
breaking away from the Doctor’s grip, stepped backwards
onto the stone. ‘Ouch!’ he cried.
‘What’s the matter?’ The Doctor tried to look startled.
Ixta swept the bougainvillea aside revealing both the stone
and the hole. ‘What negligence is this?’ he demanded. ‘The
stone must be replaced.’
‘I’m sure whoever took it out did so for a very good
reason,’ the Doctor said and suggested they left it where it
was.
‘But this part of the garden will be ruined,’ Ixta
protested.
‘Why should that be?’ the Doctor asked.
‘There is a tunnel which is used to irrigate the garden.
My father’s father built it.’
‘I am aware of that,’ the Doctor remarked dryly.
‘This entrance was made so that the tunnel could be
inspected and cleaned from time to time,’ Ixta explained,
‘but if the stone is not put back the next time the sluice-
gate is opened the water will pour out and flood this area.
No, it must be replaced’ Ixta picked it up, slid it back into
the wall and then tapped all around the edges with the heel
of his fist to ensure that the stone was firmly in. He stood
up and smiled at the Doctor. ‘Pardon my insistence, but I
am proud of all that my father’s father did.’
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