Death glared at him. ‘I’m the sister of Time and Pain and several more. We’re the dreams of Time Lords. We leak out across the universe, and occasionally somebody like the Timewyrm gives us form. Certain Time Lords, in their nightmares, or in states like you’re in, make sordid little deals with us. We might even take them on as our Champions. We make them pay a price.’

‘Does that mean I’m dead?’

‘Don’t ask that too loudly. I’m waiting here for somebody particular. I don’t have to deal with you. Do you know what a respiratory by-pass system is?’

‘No.’

‘That’s all right then. You’ve just got one.’

Tim woke up and reached for his neck. He pulled the collar of his pyjamas aside and found the red marks where the rope had bitten him.

‘I’m alive!’ he gasped. Then the gasp became a shout. ‘I’m alive!’

Phipps was the first one to wake, smothering a scream with his bedclothes when he saw Timothy sitting up in bed.

The others ignited their bedside lamps, and, seeing the miracle that had occurred, ran to surround the boy again. ‘But you were dead!’ Merryweather cried. ‘You’d stopped breathing, there was no pulse!’

‘I died,’ Timothy told him. ‘And then I came back.’

Hutchinson pushed his way through the crowd and glared at Timothy. Timothy met his gaze evenly.

After a moment, the Captain turned away. ‘As I said,’ he murmured. ‘A lot of fuss about nothing. Don’t forget it’s OTC tomorrow, Dean. Make a man of you.’

The others hesitantly followed Hutchinson’s example and returned to their beds, many of them still staring at Timothy as they did so.

After the lights had all been extinguished again, Tim flexed his fingers experimentally, staring at his young hands. ‘Too late…’ he whispered.

Serif opened his eyes. ‘I don’t believe it!’ he whispered. He was in a tiny, white-brick cell, with a solid metal door. One small barred window looked out on the darkness. The only light was that which washed under the door. On the floor in front of him sat a tray with some bread and cheese on it.

He jumped to his feet and hammered on the door. After a few minutes, a tiny slat at eye-level slid open. ‘Oi,’ said a voice. ‘Be qui-et. Silencio. Get my meaning? You’ll wake the other prisoners.’

‘You⁠ —’ Serif rammed his hand at the little gap, but the slat slammed shut again before he could touch whoever was outside.

It was inconceivable, but somehow the ex-Time Lord had outsmarted him. He turned back to the interior of the cell and paced up and down, considering his options. He didn’t carry any of the extravagant weaponry that the others favoured.

If they’d only given him some meat…