Arthur gasped, and Doctor Scamandros looked back. His wild eyes met Arthur’s.
‘Arthur!’ shrieked the tiny figure, barely audible over the sudden din of screams, shouts, explosions, and clashing metal that came through as well. ‘Help! Give me your hand!’
Without even thinking about it, Arthur touched the miniature with his finger. It was instantly seized and drawn in somewhere, along with Arthur’s other fingers and then his whole hand. He felt someone — or something — grip it fiercely. Panicked, Arthur pulled back as hard as he could.
It was like trying to pick up a very heavy weight — Arthur felt his elbow and shoulder joints stretch and almost crack. He leaned back and put his feet against the wall, pulling with all his strength. Then suddenly he was lying on his back and Doctor Scamandros was sprawled next to him on the floor.
‘Shut the watch!’ squealed Scamandros. ‘Shut the watch!’
Arthur leapt up. Just as he reached for the watch, he heard a strange zinging sound, and a long, oily flame shot out of the open watch and struck the iron ceiling, the flames burning off the paint and sending billows of choking smoke everywhere.
Arthur, thankful he was still wearing gloves, swiped at the watch, shutting it with one blow. The oily flame disappeared as the watch shut, but there was still lots of smoke. Arthur, coughing and rubbing his eyes, opened the door and the porthole to let it out, then turned to Scamandros, who was still lying on the floor.
‘Are you all right? Where did you come from — and how?’
‘Just recovering my strength,’ gasped Doctor Scamandros. ‘You called at an opportune time, Lord Arthur. Thank the Architect I had the foresight to give you my transfer watch!’
‘Is that what it is?’
‘Yes, one of my graduation projects.’ Scamandros tried to get up, but got tangled in the tails of his yellow greatcoat, till Arthur gave him a hand. ‘I had thought I might need to merely talk with you again, but the transfer was most fortunate.’
‘Why? What’s happened to the Moth and everyone?’
‘The Moth has been taken,’ said Scamandros, his eyes downcast. ‘By the pirate Feverfew.’
‘What —?’
Arthur was interrupted by shouts of ‘Fire!’ from outside, followed a few seconds later by several seaman Rats bursting in with buckets and a hose, fortunately not yet fully up to pressure so it only dribbled water.
‘Where’s the fire?’ shouted the first Rat into the room.
‘It’s out,’ said Arthur. ‘Don’t worry about it.’
‘Who’s this?’ asked the Rat suspiciously, looking at the bedraggled, yellow-overcoated, surprisingly short Denizen who had so mysteriously appeared. Doctor Scamandros bowed, but this didn’t help. The Rat looked around, made sure there really was no fire, then nodded to Arthur and backed out.
‘Stay here, please, sir, while I fetch the officer of the watch,’ the Rat said as she shut the door.
Arthur wasn’t sure what would happen next.
Eighteen
NO MORE THAN a minute later, there was a knock at the door. Arthur opened it and found Lieutenant Longtayle standing there, now wearing a sword. Behind him were half a dozen Rats wearing steel cuirasses and helmets, and carrying short crossbows or cut-down boarding pikes.
‘You have a visitor, Lord Arthur?’ asked Longtayle politely, but his eyes were cold and did not stray from Doctor Scamandros, who was sitting in the chair mopping his forehead with a yellow silk handkerchief.
‘It’s Doctor Scamandros, from the Moth,’ Arthur explained. ‘He came through a transfer watch.’
‘Are you sure it is Doctor Scamandros?’ asked Longtayle. ‘It could be a Nithling masquerading as him. Transfers can be intercepted or redirected.’
Arthur looked at Scamandros more carefully than he had before. The Doctor certainly looked the same. . .
‘I am Doctor Scamandros!’ the Denizen protested weakly.
‘Prove it,’ said Longtayle.
‘You Rats! Never prepared to take anyone’s word for anything,’ Scamandros complained. ‘Well, if you must insist upon proof, here are some documents for you.’
He reached inside his greatcoat and pulled out a thin leather document case tied together with pink legal ribbon. He undid this and pulled out a parchment, which he handed over to Lieutenant Longtayle, who carefully looked it over. Arthur couldn’t see what was on it clearly, but he caught a glimpse of a kind of three-dimensional portrait of Doctor Scamandros that moved and turned, with flowing type scrolling underneath the picture.
‘This is merely a student accreditation from the Sorcery Scholar Assistant Registrar of the Upper House,’ said Longtayle. ‘If it’s a true document, what are you doing here in the Border Sea?’
‘Up until very recently I have been the Navigator-Sorcerer of the ship Moth,’ said Doctor Scamandros. ‘A post I have held for several thousand years, giving complete satisfaction, I may add. I have a letter here to that effect from Captain Catapillow.’
He handed over a folded sheet of paper. Longtayle read this one too.
‘What brought you to the Border Sea in the first place?’
Angry storms rolled across Scamandros’s cheeks and his fingers twitched.
‘That’s none of your affair, young Rat!’
‘You’ve come aboard without permission,’ said Longtayle grimly. ‘If you don’t answer my questions we shall have to —’
‘He’s my guest!’ interrupted Arthur. ‘I kind of . . . I guess I brought him aboard.’
Scamandros waved his hand weakly. The storms on his cheeks dispersed and the ships tattooed there rode gently at anchor. A sun shone on his forehead, turning green as it slowly sank towards his right ear.
‘Never mind, Lord Arthur. It’s well known that these Rats never rest without prying out everyone’s secrets. I came to the Border Sea to find my final exam papers, which were supposedly lost before they could be marked. I thought that if I could find them and have them properly assessed, I could gain my degree and once more be admitted into the halls of learning in the Upper House. A foolish hope, I now acknowledge. I suspect my papers were never truly lost, and so will not reappear in the Sea.’
‘That confirms your identity,’ said Longtayle. He bowed and added, ‘We like to be sure who we have aboard, Doctor. As it happens, your ‘secret’ was already known to us. If Lord Arthur wishes to confirm you as his guest, we are happy to welcome you aboard the Rattus Navis IV.’
‘I do confirm him as a guest,’ said Arthur. ‘I was hoping to enlist Doctor Scamandros for my . . . my expedition anyway.’
‘Expedition?’ Scamandros asked. ‘Well, if I could have a cup of tea and a biscuit first, I daresay I could manage a small expedition . . .’
‘We have to get to Port Wednesday before we really get started,’ said Arthur. ‘So you’ll have a few days to recover —’
‘Excellent!’ Doctor Scamandros beamed. He cast his eyes about the cabin. ‘Perhaps I might lie down on that bunk over there? I feel a little weak.’
‘Uh, I guess you can,’ said Arthur. ‘But I want to know what happened with the Moth! Was . . . was anybody killed? Is Sunscorch all right?’
‘They’ll all be slaves now,’ said Doctor Scamandros gloomily as he climbed into the bunk. He looked down at his stomach, then pulled his greatcoat closed. ‘Those that survived. Sunscorch? I don’t know. Everything was confused. There was smoke everywhere, and Feverfew cast a spell that made the planks bite at our ankles. The Captain and Mister Concort retreated to the main cabin, while Sunscorch led the defence. The Shiver fired a broadside of grapeshot as she closed, raking the deck, then suddenly there were pirates everywhere, all around. I ran to the forepeak, thinking to jump, when I heard the chime of my transfer watch . . .’
‘But how did Feverfew know where you were? Was the Moth still on the beach?’
‘On the beach? No, no, we were only there for two weeks, though of course that was a week too long for Sunscorch. After the ship was fixed up we started back for the Border Sea. That was when Feverfew got us. The Shiver was waiting, right where we came through the Line of Storms. I don’t know how Feverfew knew where we’d cross. Though one naturally loathes and detests him as a pirate, one must admire his sorcery.’
‘You were on the beach for two weeks? But it’s only been hours for me since I left.’
‘Time runs true in the House and —’
‘— meanders elsewhere, yeah, I know,’ interrupted Arthur. He was thinking about getting back home before he was missed. ‘But that’s a big time difference.’
‘I’ve known bigger,’ said Scamandros. ‘Why, one time we left the House for a year and came back only fifteen minutes after we left. The tea was still warm in the pot I left on the corner table of Aunt Sally’s Café in Port Wednesday. Quite disturbing, I have to say. Now tell me, what is this expedition you plan, Lord Arthur?’
‘It’s a very difficult one,’ said Arthur carefully. ‘And getting more difficult. You see, I’m going to sneak into Feverfew’s secret harbour and steal something from him. Only now I guess I’d better try to rescue the survivors from the Moth as well.’
‘That would not be wise, Lord Arthur,’ said Longtayle. ‘We consider you would have some small chance of infiltration for the purpose of finding and retrieving the object you seek. That chance would be greatly reduced if you try to free slaves as well.’
‘I guess I’ll have to see for myself,’ said Arthur stubbornly. ‘What do you think, Doctor Scamandros — will you help me?’
‘Naturally I am at your service, Lord Arthur,’ said Scamandros. ‘May I ask where the fabled secret harbour of Captain Feverfew actually is?’
‘Inside Drowned Wednesday.’
Scamandros’s head fell back as Arthur spoke, hitting the pillow with a loud thud.
‘Doctor Scamandros?’
Longtayle went to the bed and looked down on the Doctor, peeling back one eyelid.
‘Fainted,’ he pronounced. Then his whiskers twitched and he peered more closely at the Denizen’s midsection. Reaching inside the Doctor’s coat, his paw came out covered in blue blood.
‘Fetch Mister Yongtin!’ he barked to one of the sailor Rats.
‘Is he all right?’ asked Arthur.
‘Peppered with grapeshot,’ answered Longtayle. ‘Strange that his coat isn’t . . . I wouldn’t have thought he’d have fainted, though, just from these wounds. He’s a Denizen. . .’
He bent down still closer and sniffed, his whiskers all aquiver. Then he recoiled and wiped his snout with a clean white handkerchief.
‘He’s poisoned with Nothing,’ Longtayle pronounced. ‘Feverfew must have doctored the grapeshot. I don’t know how he’d make it stick together —’ He stopped talking as a tall, piebald Rat wearing a long apron over his frock coat rushed in. This new arrival went immediately to Doctor Scamandros, pushing Longtayle out of the way. He sniffed at the Denizen, opened up his Gladstone bag, and began to pull out a number of instruments, including a large pair of pincers, which he laid on the table.
‘Got to get the Nothing-laced lead out of him,’ said the Rat. ‘Clear the room so I can work, Longtayle.’
‘Mister Yongtin,’ whispered Longtayle as he ushered Arthur out and across the passageway into the great cabin where he’d met with Commodore Monckton, though the commodore wasn’t there now. ‘An excellent surgeon, but no conversationalist.’
‘Is . . . do you think Doctor Scamandros will die?’ Arthur asked.
‘Probably not,’ said Longtayle. ‘It’s very hard to kill a Denizen. It depends on whether Yongtin can get the Nothing out before it dissolves too much of him. But he’ll be weak for quite a while, so I doubt you can count on him for the expedition.’
‘I hope he’ll be okay,’ said Arthur. He felt a bit bad because he knew he wanted Doctor Scamandros to recover as much for the expedition as for his own sake.
‘I’ll show you to another cabin,’ said Longtayle. ‘It might be an idea to rest, if you can. We found long ago that though sleep is not absolutely essential within the House, we mortals and semi-mortals are happier if we do rest our tired minds and bodies.’
‘I could do with a rest,’ admitted Arthur. ‘Only there’s one thing I have to do first, but I need someone to watch over me. Maybe, if it’s okay, you could do that.’
As they went into the new cabin, Arthur quickly explained to Longtayle the watching spell Scamandros had made for him so he could check that Leaf was all right. He showed the Rat the mirror and the shell.
‘I can’t watch myself,’ said Longtayle. ‘I am the captain of this ship, after all. But I shall assign someone trustworthy. They will be with you in a few minutes.’
He sounded a bit offended.
‘Oops,’ muttered Arthur to himself as the Rat left. Obviously you didn’t ask the captain of a ship to do something so basic as stand around watching a passenger stare into a little mirror.
As promised, a few minutes later there was a knock on the door. Arthur opened it and let in a familiar-looking rat.
‘Gunner’s Mate First Watkingle,’ Arthur said as the Rat saluted and opened his mouth to talk.
‘Bless me! You remembered, sir.’
‘Thank you for coming so quickly,’ said Arthur. ‘Did the captain explain what I want you to do?’