Lady Friday

Arthur wanted to lie in the snow, no matter how cold and wet it was, but he knew he couldn’t. He forced himself up and looked around to make sure there was no danger of attack. When he was sure no Fetchers or anything worse were nearby, he looked back up at the turning wheel.

Suzy was already on it, sliding down the descending spoke like a surfer down a wave. She jumped across to the shore with perfect timing, sending a spray of snow over Arthur as she touched down.

“That was fun!” she declared. Arthur scowled at her and scraped some snow off himself while he waited for Fred or Ugham to come down next.

It was Fred, who while lacking Suzy’s style nevertheless did a workmanlike job of riding the spoke down on all fours, jumping like a dog at the end to land in a crouch near Suzy and Arthur.

Ugham chose an entirely different method, benefiting from having observed the others. He jumped with a dagger in his hand, thrusting it into the timber to give himself a secure handhold. He used that hold to position himself square in the middle of the spoke, then worked the dagger free, slid down to the wheel’s inner rim, stood up, and stepped off onto the canal side as easily as Arthur might have stepped off an escalator back home.

“Let’s go!” declared Arthur. He waved his hand and pointed west along the canal before pushing through the waist-high snow. He only went a few paces before Ugham overtook him.

“It were best I forge a path,” said Ugham. Lowering his charged spear to the snow ahead, he twisted the bronze grip to activate it. The spear point glowed with sudden heat, the snow melting away to create a channel that Ugham widened by the simple method of pushing through. The three children followed in his wake, their way made much easier.

“It’s a lot faster,” said Arthur. “But we’re leaving a completely obvious trail, not to mention the light.”

“We’d leave a trail anyway,” said Fred. “It’s not snow­ing enough to cover any tracks.”

“Uggie’s keeping the spear point down,” added Suzy. “Not that much light is showing.”

“It’s the only light around, though,” said Arthur, glanc­ing about. Strangely, it didn’t seem any darker than it had been when he’d first looked out from the tower. He felt much colder, though, chilled through to his bones despite the heavy aprons he wore, and every few minutes a shiver would pass through him that he couldn’t suppress. “But I guess we haven’t got a choice. We need to find this Paper Pusher wharf quickly. I hope they’ve got somewhere we can shelter for the night.”

“I don’t think there’s going to be a night,” said Fred as he stopped for a moment to squint up at the snow-clouded sky. “I reckon the sun’s stuck again. There won’t be no morn­ing either, though. It’ll stay like this till someone fixes it.”

“Great,” muttered Suzy. “Perpetual twilight and freez­ing snow. I thought the Lower House was managed badly enough ....”

“It’s not that bad,” said Fred. “It’s nice enough inside the workshops or the town.”

“I bet,” said Suzy. “Freezing out here, though, ain’t it?”

“We’d better be quiet,” ordered Arthur. It was freez­ing, and he was already greatly tempted to use the Key to warm himself ... and the others, though they were prob­ably better able to cope, being less mortal than himself. If they didn’t find shelter, he would have to use the Key.

They slogged on through the snow in silence. As Fred had predicted, the sky grew no darker, a dim twilight pre­vailing. The weather remained much the same too, with scattered showers of snow that never really got started properly but also never really stopped.

After they had gone at least a mile, Arthur called a brief halt. He was very tired, mostly from the cold. The four of them huddled together around Ugham’s spear point, warming their hands. Arthur could barely feel the top joints of his fingers, and his nose and cheekbones didn’t feel much better.

“You need a hat, Arthur,” said Suzy. She took off her own New Nithling–issue fur hat and pulled it down on Arthur’s head before he could protest. Then as he feebly tried to lift it off, she whipped a handkerchief out of her sleeve and tied it over her head and ears.

“I can’t take your hat,” said Arthur, but Suzy skipped away as he tried to hand it back. Recognizing the futility of trying to get her to do something she didn’t want to do, Arthur put the hat back on. He had to admit he immedi­ately felt warmer. He remembered reading somewhere that people lost most of their heat through their head and kicked himself for not thinking of it before. He couldn’t afford to make simple mistakes like forgetting to wear a hat.

Any more simple mistakes, Arthur thought.

“How far is this wharf?” asked Suzy.

“I’m not sure,” Arthur confessed. “Half a parsang, whatever that is. Do you know, Fred?”

“I’ve never gone far from Letterer’s Lark, but I don’t think a half parsang is that far,” said Fred. “I’ve seen the canal, but never a wharf. The Paper Pushers don’t have a good reputation, though.”

“I don’t care about their reputation, so long as they have a fire,” said Suzy.

Arthur nodded. He knew that if he kept talking, his teeth would chatter, and he didn’t want to show the others how cold he really was. Instead he stood up and pointed west. Ugham immediately rose and started out again, once more melting the snow. Arthur followed, with Suzy close behind and Fred bringing up the rear.

They hadn’t gone very far when Ugham stopped and turned back to face the others.

“Something ahead,” he whispered. “Lying in the snow.”

“Spread out,” Arthur whispered back. He drew the Key, and for the first time he heard it make a slight hum­ming noise as it transformed into its sword shape. If it had been a human noise it might have been something like a soft, expectant aaahhh. Whatever it meant, Arthur didn’t like it, but he had to ignore it for the moment. He waved the sword forward, and the quartet advanced.

The something in the snow turned out to be the bodies of two Denizens, who were lying almost on top of each other. Two shabby, short Denizens who had huge holes where their hearts used to be. Blue blood was frozen all over their long coats, which were made of paper and, though different in detail, were of the same design, both being a patchwork of paper records, neatly sewn together with yellow thread.

“They’re Paper Pushers,” said Fred. “They wear clothes made of printed papers, in case they fall in the canal. The textually charged water repels and moves text, you see—”

“I know about that,” interrupted Arthur. He looked around nervously, the cold and his weariness momentarily forgotten. “What I want to know is what could have done that to both of them? I mean they’re dead. I thought

Denizens could survive all kinds of things that would kill mortals.”

Ugham walked around the corpses, then bent down to sniff around their wounds.

“They were slain in the blink of an eye, sliced through as readily as I have parted the snow, and there is the stench of Nothing upon them. Betide these unfortunates were slain by a sorcerous weapon. Something akin to the sword you bear, Lord Arthur.”

“What?!” exclaimed Arthur. “A Key?”

“Something most sorcerous,” said Ugham. “No mere steel, nor even the weapons of your Army or mine own charged spear could spit two Denizens in a single thrust. Nor make a wound a full handspan wide.”

He held up his left hand and spread his seven fingers to illustrate the point, before adding, “Whoever did this would be a foe to face indeed.”

“Saturday herself, maybe,” said Arthur nervously. “I don’t think her Dusk could do that. He would have skew­ered me down in the Pit ages ago if he had that kind of weapon.”

“Nah,” said Suzy. “Saturday wouldn’t come here her­self. This is Friday’s neck of the woods. They have that agreement, remember?”

“Lady Friday has abdicated,” replied Arthur. He was looking all around, peering out into the twilit snowscape. “Or so she said in her message. I guess all the usual restric­tions on the other Trustees are off. Though I suppose ....”

“What?” asked Suzy.

“Maybe Friday killed these two,” said Arthur. “Oh, I don’t know! I’m too cold and tired to think straight. Let’s find the wharf—but be careful.”

For once Suzy didn’t comment. She just nodded, as did Fred. Ugham’s answer was to stride off again, this time choosing not to activate his spear, instead just pushing through the snow and making a path with his body.

The wharf was soon in sight, a dark rectangular bulk lacking all detail in the twilight. It could be a low, long hill for all Arthur could tell, but as they drew closer, Arthur saw that while the wharf itself was a simple wooden pier that thrust out fifty or sixty feet into the canal, its con­struction was obscured by the sheer bulk of ribbon-tied papers, stone tablets, papyrus bundles, stacks of hides, and other written records that were piled all over it, in places up to thirty feet high. It all looked extremely shaky and likely to fall down. If anything did fall down, it would probably crush any poor unfortunates who happened to be underneath. Some of the stone tablets, in particular, were larger than Arthur himself.

The four travelers advanced warily on this huge, shabby dump of records, but there was no sudden attack, or any indication that anyone else was around. A quick circuit of the landward end of the wharf also showed that there were no buildings, not even a but in which they might shelter.

There was, however, a small dark opening between two towering stacks of evil-smelling cured hides that had been written on in green phosphorescent ink by an untidy scribe whose lines went all over the place.

“That looks like a passage,” said Suzy. “I bet there’s a cozy little den inside all this stuff. Probably down the end. That’s where I’d set up.”

“And as like as not, an ambuscade at the end of it,” said Ugham. He handed his spear to Fred and drew his knuckle-duster knife. “Dark corners lead to dark deeds.”

Before Arthur could say or do anything, Ugham disap­peared into the dark, narrow way, moving in a fighting crouch. The boy hesitated for a moment. But it was not from fear, just from the cold that was slowly spreading from his numb fingers and frozen toes, all the way up into his brain.

I’m slowing down, thought Arthur. I have to get warm or I’ll die ....

Except he wouldn’t die, he knew. His will to survive was too strong. He’d use the Key, and he’d become a Denizen ....

Arthur forced himself to concentrate on the immediate future rather than on what might lay ahead. He forced his cold muscles into action and followed Ugham into the dark passage, with Suzy and Fred close behind.

After only a dozen paces, Arthur had to stop. The pas­sage between the records was getting dark, too dark to see. He could hear Ugham moving up ahead somewhere, but the way was too twisty and difficult to navigate without being able to see.

“Have either of you got some kind of light?” whis­pered Arthur. Suzy was right behind him now, and Fred close behind her.

“Only the spear,” Fred whispered back. “But there’s too much paper to turn it on. Start a fire for sure.”

“No light,” said Suzy. “But I can see a bit in the dark. Not as much as the Newniths, though. The Piper made them special. They like the dark. Maybe Uggie will find a lantern and come back.”

“We can’t just let Ugham go ahead,” said Arthur. “What if there is a Trustee at the other end? Or a top-level Denizen sorcerer?”

Suzy drew breath to answer, but whatever she was about to say was completely drowned out by the sound of a terrible, inhuman scream behind them. A scream that they immediately and instinctively recognized as a cry of rage. A vengeful sound that drove all rational thought out of the three children’s heads.

The scream rose to an almost unbearable pitch, then fell away in a series of horrible grunts before starting to rise again. Arthur was already running, feeling the walls and the way ahead with his hands to find the passage. He felt Suzy crashing along behind him and Fred shouting something incomprehensible that was probably “Run!”

All of them knew the scream had come from some­where outside the wharf. Somewhere behind them. Every instinct told them to get to the end of the wharf as fast as they could.

Whatever lay ahead, hidden under the hilly peninsula of papers, tablets, hides, and papyrus scrolls, had to be less dangerous than whatever was prowling around outside, screaming its rage at the sky.
Chapter Eleven

Arthur’s headlong flight ended suddenly with an impact that sent him momentarily to his knees. But the pain of running full tilt into what felt like a giant mattress—but was probably a pile of old vellum manuscripts—helped clear his head a little. In that moment of brief respite, he clutched at the Key on his belt, and though he did not order it to do anything, as soon as his fingers closed on the cool ivory, he felt the fear dissipate. He could still hear the horrible shrieking but he wasn’t driven mad by a complete and unreasonable fear.

“Hold on!” shouted Arthur. He was kicked and pushed by Suzy and Fred as they tried to get past him, still fleeing from the scream. “It’s some kind of sorcery. It’s just a noise!”

His words had no effect. Suzy slid by and he felt the impact of Fred’s elbow as he barged past. Then he was alone in the dark and they were crashing and banging their way ahead of him.

“Stop!” yelled Arthur, but he knew they wouldn’t unless he actually used the power of the Key on them.