‘You’ll need this,’ he whispered. ‘Won’t be able to see the House without it or find the Front Door. Dame Primus is a bit impatient – not intentionally, I’m sure.’
Leaf looked at what he’d given her: an open leather case that contained a pair of gold wire-rimmed spectacles, with thin lenses that were heavily cracked and crazed with tiny lines. She snapped the case shut and slipped it into the tight waistband of her breeches.
‘This way, please, Miss Leaf,’ said Sneezer as Scamandros ran back to his place at the table. ‘Will you be requiring clothes more suitable to your own Secondary Realm and era?’
‘If you’ve got something, that’d be great,’ said Leaf, who was wearing a wide-sleeved cotton shirt and blue canvas breeches, the basic uniform of a ship’s boy from the Flying Mantis. She hadn’t even started to think about how to explain her clothes. Explaining why she hadn’t been to see her parents, aunt, and brother in quarantine for at least sixteen hours was going to be hard enough.
As she left, Leaf heard Dame Primus say something to Dr Scamandros and then launch into a speech. She sounded like a politician in a televised debate, wary of her opponent’s delaying tactics.
‘I trust, Lord Arthur, that we may now proceed as you have requested, with the Agenda rearranged in order of importance.’
‘Sure,’ said Arthur wearily, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the Spirit-eater, this ‘Skinless Boy’ who was pretending to be him. What was the creature going to do? His parents would have no idea. They’d be helpless, and so would his sisters and brothers. The thing would take over their minds and then … even if the Spirit-eater was destroyed and Arthur could go back, he might not have a family anymore.
Something penetrated Arthur’s thoughts. Dame Primus had just said something. Something very important.
‘What was that?’ he asked. ‘What did you just say?’
‘I said, Lord Arthur, we now suspect that the Morrow Days’ misgovernance is no accident. They have been influenced or induced to behave as they do, with the ultimate aim being the complete and utter destruction of the House – and with it, the entirety of creation.’
‘What!?’ Arthur jumped out of his chair. Everyone looked at him, and he slowly sat back down again, taking a deep breath to try and slow his suddenly speeding heart.
‘Really, Lord Arthur, must I repeat myself again? If the Morrow Days are allowed to continue as they are, there is a great risk the entire House will be destroyed.’
‘Are you sure?’ asked Arthur nervously. ‘I mean, Mister Monday was really lazy, and Grim Tuesday wanted to make lots of stuff and own it, and Wednesday … she couldn’t help being a total pig. That doesn’t mean they wanted to destroy the House.’
‘In every case, the Trustees have put the House at risk,’ said Dame Primus stiffly. ‘Mister Monday’s sloth meant the Lower House did not properly transport or store records, so it is even now impossible to ascertain what has happened to numerous Denizens, parts of the House, important objects, millions or possibly trillions of sentient mortals, and even entire worlds in the Secondary Realms. There has also been considerable interference with the Secondary Realms, most of it via the Lower House.
‘Grim Tuesday’s case is even worse, for in his avarice, he mined so much Nothing that the Far Reaches of the House were in danger of inundation by Nothing. If the Far Reaches had fallen into Nothing, it is quite possible the rest of the House would have collapsed as well.
‘Drowned Wednesday failed to stop the Border Sea from breaking its bounds and now it extends to many places it should not, allowing passage to and from the House for those able to pass the Line of Storms, and impinging on areas of Nothing, again weakening the fabric of the House.’
She paused to sip her blood-red wine.
‘All of this together suggests that the Trustees, knowingly or not, are part of a plan to demolish the House and reduce it and everything else the Architect created into Nothing!’
‘The whole universe?’ asked Arthur.
‘The whole universe,’ said Dame Primus. ‘Though as yet we do not know who is behind this plot, or what they can possibly hope to gain. Lord Sunday or Superior Saturday are the obvious candidates … but then they too would be destroyed. Unless they have found a way to destroy only part of the House … it is a curious puzzle. Being only three parts of the Will, I lack significant knowledge. In any case, it matters not, for our strategy does not differ, whether we oppose the Trustees or some force behind them.’
‘What is “our” strategy?’ asked Arthur.
‘As it has been,’ said Dame Primus. ‘You will wrest the Fourth Key from Sir Thursday, the Fifth from Lady Friday, the Sixth from Superior Saturday, and the Seventh from Lord Sunday.’
‘That’s it?’ asked Arthur. ‘You call that a strategy?’
‘What did you expect from a frog-bear-fish?’ said Suzy under the table, just loud enough for only Arthur to hear her.
‘It is the grand strategy,’ replied Dame Primus stiffly. ‘Naturally there are details to be gone into. One of the first things that must be done is to restore the bounds of the Border Sea before it causes any more problems. Since you have decided to retain the Third Key, Arthur, this should be your next task.’
‘What do I have to do?’
‘Wednesday’s Dawn has identified thirty-seven thousand four hundred and sixty-two places where the Border Sea has impinged on the Secondary Realms or Nothing. In each case, you must use the power of the Key to force the Sea back to its proper place. Fortunately, you do not need to visit each location, as the power of the Third Key can be directed from Port Wednesday.’
‘But I’d have to use the Key thirty-seven thousand times,’ said Arthur. He looked at the crocodile ring on his finger. It didn’t appear to have changed at all since he’d used the Atlas. Then he lifted it really close, and could see that the gold had spread by the width of a hair and was now right on the fourth band. ‘I’d become a Denizen in no time. And I could never go home.’
‘This sentimental attachment to your original world and mortality is a serious weakness, Arthur,’ said Dame Primus. She leaned forward as she spoke, and Arthur felt his eyes drawn to her gaze. Her own eyes grew brighter, infused with a golden glow, and though she was not wearing her wings, Arthur could sense them rearing up behind her, increasing her majesty. He felt an almost overpowering urge to bow before her, because she was so beautiful and powerful.
‘The Border Sea must be brought within its bounds and only the Third Key can do it.’
Arthur tried to force his chin up, resisting the pressure to bow before the Will. It would be so easy to give in, to agree with whatever she wanted. But if he did, that would be the end of a boy named Arthur Penhaligon. He would be something else, no longer human.
But it would be so easy. … Arthur opened his mouth and then shut it again as something sharp pricked his knee.
The momentary pain enabled him to break eye contact with Dame Primus and he quickly looked down.
‘Let me think about it,’ said Arthur. It cost him an effort to even say that, but it worked. Dame Primus leaned back and the almost-visible aura of her wings diminished, and her face no longer seemed so unbearably beautiful.
Arthur took a sip of his orange juice and glanced under the table. Suzy was pushing another large needle through the lining of her outer coat, where it nestled with half-a-dozen others.
He took a deep breath and continued, ‘What’s your plan for me after the Border Sea is taken care of?’
‘Sir Thursday holds the Fourth Key,’ said Dame Primus. ‘As he commands the Glorious Army of the Architect and is a very powerful, volatile, and excessively violent Denizen, it would not be wise to confront him directly. Instead, we think it best if we employ agents to discover where Part Four of the Will has been imprisoned by Sir Thursday. Once we have found and released Part Four, then we can consider our next move. In the meantime, because of the danger from assassins, it would be best if you go to Port Wednesday under guard and work to contain the Border Sea with the Third Key.’
‘Right …’ said Arthur. He frowned and sipped his orange juice as he tried to figure out what he should do. The only thing he knew for sure was that if he wanted any chance of ever getting back to being normal, he had to avoid using the Keys. Obviously the Third Key needed to be used right now to get the Border Sea back under control. But Dame Primus could do that.
And I’ll just hide out here, thought Arthur bitterly. He felt powerless and trapped, but at the same time, he could not think of anything else he could do.
‘If I use the Third Key that much, then I will turn into a Denizen, full stop,’ Arthur said finally. ‘But I realise that the Border Sea must be contained. So I will give you the Third Key.’
‘Good,’ said Dame Primus. She smiled and tapped her Agenda a few times with satisfaction, then suddenly stopped as if struck by a sudden recollection. ‘However, you are the Rightful Heir. You should not remain a weak mortal. It probably would be best for you to keep and use all three Keys and become a Denizen as quickly as possible.’
Arthur was irritated now. ‘I’ve told you tons of times – I know I can’t go home now, but at least there’s a chance … a small chance that one day, if I don’t become a Denizen … oh, forget it!’
Arthur sat back down and slapped the table angrily, spoiling the effect by choking slightly on his own spit as he did so. To clear his throat, he picked up his orange juice and drank it down – until something hard rolled out of the cup and into his mouth, almost choking him for real.
Arthur spat out whatever it was onto the table. The object rang like a bell as it hit the metal surface, rolled in ever-decreasing circles, and quivered to a stop. It was a silver coin, about twice the diameter of a dollar.
‘What the –’ said Arthur. ‘There was a coin in my drink!’
‘No,’ said Dame Primus. She dropped her gold pencil and a tortoiseshell fan appeared in her hand. As she resumed speaking, she fanned her face in agitation. ‘Surely you wouldn’t be eligible?’
‘What are you talking about?’ Arthur picked up the coin and looked at it. One side showed a knight’s head, with the visor of his helmet up and ostrich plumes falling down one side. The letters around the side were initially just gobbledygook to Arthur, but they changed as he looked at them, to spell out Sir Thursday, Defender of the House. The other side showed the top third of a big old-fashioned sword, with a serpent wound around the hilt. Or perhaps the serpent was the hilt – Arthur couldn’t be sure. The words around this side also shimmered and changed, to become One Shilling.
‘It’s just a coin,’ said Arthur. He looked around at everyone. They were all staring at him, and they all looked disturbed. ‘Isn’t it?’
‘It’s Sir Thursday’s shilling,’ Dame Primus explained. ‘You’ve been tricked into taking it. One of the very oldest tricks, to make someone accept something they don’t want, or don’t know about.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘It means you’ve been drafted,’ said Dame Primus. ‘Into the Glorious Army of the Architect. I expect the papers will arrive at any moment.’
‘Drafted!? Into the army? But how –’
‘I suppose that technically you have a position within the House,’ said Dame Primus. ‘Which allows Sir Thursday to draft you. Every Denizen, at some time, must do their century of military service –’
‘Century! I can’t spend a hundred years in the Army!’
‘The question is whether this is an intentional plan on the part of Sir Thursday to bring you into his power, or just some accident of the administrative process. If the latter, you will be quite safe, until we can find out where Part Four of the Will is, and then with its help, we can –’
‘Safe? I’ll be in the Army! What if I get sent into a battle or something? What if Sir Thursday just kills me?!’
Dame Primus shook her head.
‘He can’t just kill you. Once you’ve been recruited, he’ll have to follow his own regulations. I suppose that he could make things very unpleasant for you. But they do that to the recruits anyway.’
‘Fantastic. What about the assassins that killed Mister Monday and Grim Tuesday? What if they kill me?’
‘Hmmm. In fact, this could work to your advantage, Arthur. No assassin from the Middle or Upper House would dare attack you among your comrades in the Great Maze, and a Denizen from the Incomparable Gardens would be very obvious and give you time to get away or think of something. You would be out of the way, and comparatively safe, while we get on with things.’
‘I beg your pardon, Dame Primus, but there is one thing Sir Thursday could and probably will do if he knows Arthur is among his recruits,’ Monday’s Noon interrupted. ‘My own service was long ago, but I have not forgotten it. Arthur will probably be safe enough during his first year of training. But after that, he could be posted to the Borderers, or to the Mountain Fort, where there is always fighting with the Nithlings. As a mortal, he would stand in much more danger in battle than any Denizen.’
‘What if I just don’t go?’ Arthur asked. It was seeming like the best choice. ‘I mean, come on. There has to be some benefit to being Master of the Lower House and Duke of the Border Sea and all that. I mean, Sir Thursday couldn’t draft Mister Monday or Grim Tuesday or Lady Wednesday, could he?’