Drowned Wednesday

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 defense. 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 Cafe 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?"

"Stand sentry-like while you whip up some magic," replied Watkingle, tapping the cutlass at his side. "And if your eyes turn yellow and you start acting strange or yabbering peculiar, then I'm to give you a tap on the head with the pommel of this "ere cutlass."

"Uh, that's not exactly..." Arthur started to say. Then he shrugged and nodded.

I guess if my eyes do turn yellow and I start yabbering peculiar it probably would be best to hit me on the head, he thought.

Sunlight — or the light from the ceiling of the Border Sea — streamed in through the porthole. Arthur sat down, got out the mirror, angled it to the light, and raised the shell to his ear.

Once again, Arthur tried to think of Leaf. A few images rose up in his mind. When he'd first seen her, refusing to run, with her brother, Ed. Then in her house, with the Scoucher cutting its way through the front door.

These images briefly crossed the surface of the mirror, then it went dark. Arthur heard the hiss inside the shell change. He caught the sound of footsteps, followed by a match striking. Light flared in the mirror and the darkness ebbed.

Arthur saw a pale hand transfer the match to a lantern. Then, as the wick caught and flared, another view of a small space aboard a ship. Not the same prison area Leaf had been in before, though the ceiling was only four feet high. This was a long, narrow room.

Leaf was there. She looked quite different. She had a blue bandanna tied around her hair and was wearing a blue-striped shirt and black breeches, with the tops of her high sea-boots folded down over her knees. Even in the flickering light, Arthur could see her skin was much darker than it had been, burned brown by some otherworldly sun.

There was a boy with her, dressed in the same style. He was the one who had lit the lantern, which now hung by a hook in the ceiling.

"I don't see why we have to fight, Albert," said Leaf. "It seems kind of dumb to me. I mean, it's not as if we don't get along okay."

"Tradition," replied Albert glumly. "I don't want to fight either, but the Captain told me we have to. “Ship's boys always fight,” he said, “and Miss Leaf has been aboard a month without a drubbing. See to it, or you can both have twenty of the best over the twelve-pounder.”"

"What?"

"Twenty strokes of Pannikin's cane over one of the cannons," explained Albert. He was rolling up his sleeves. "Which would hurt a lot more than anything you could do."

"You're just trying to make me angry," said Leaf. She didn't bother to roll up her sleeves, instead leaning back against a curved internal strut. "Which won't work. I've studied psychology. I know what you're trying to do."

"You don't know much else," said Albert, though there wasn't much heat in his words. "I get tired trying to teach you everyday stuff you should already know."

"What, like the difference between the mizzen gaff and the mizzen topsail yard?" snorted Leaf. "As if I'd ever need to know that back home."

"I keep telling you, you won't be going home," said Albert. "That just doesn't happen. You might as well face up to the fact that you're one of the Piper's children now, or good as."

"Arthur will find me," said Leaf. "He's the Master of the Lower House and everything. I'll be going home, sooner or later."

"Sure, and Pannikin will give us extra plum pudding for good work," Albert scoffed, then suddenly darted forward and punched Leaf fair in the face.

"Ow! What the —" Albert darted in again, but this time when he threw a punch, Leaf ducked aside and trapped his arm with an obviously well-practised move using her left hand and right arm. She followed this up with a swinging movement of her body that propelled Albert into the side of the ship.

He hit hard and Leaf let go. But instead of falling down or giving up, Albert turned around and punched her again, this time in the stomach. Leaf fell back, gasping, the wind knocked out of her.

"That'll probably do it," said Albert, wiping his bloodied nose with the back of his hand. "S" long as the Captain sees blood he'll be satisfied, and if you can walk around all hunched up like that for a hour or two —"

"I might have to, you idiot," complained Leaf. "If you just needed a bloody nose why didn't you say so?"

"I thought it'd be better if you had the bloody nose," said Albert. "Didn't know you could fight, did I? What was that wrestling trick?"

"Judo." Leaf straightened up and took a breath. "And that's not all I know either, so you watch it."

"We can be friends again now," said Albert, holding out his hand. "For about another three months or so, I reckon, before the Captain decides we should be fighting. Or if we get any more ship's boys aboard. Or we get washed between the ears and have to start all over again."

"Washed between the ears? That doesn't sound good," replied Leaf as they shook hands.

"It isn't. It's strange, now I think about it. I mean, the Border Sea is all messed up, what with Wednesday turning into a great big fish and all, but the washing between the ears is still regular. Someone always turns up to do it, every couple of decades. Never thought about that before. Can't see why anyone would bother. We're just the Piper's brats, after all."

"I'll have to ask Arthur," said Leaf. "I want to know why the Piper brought you all here in the first place too. And the Raised Rats."

Albert shrugged.

"Never thought about it all myself. Too much to do. Speaking of which, we'd better get back topside before my nose stops."

He lifted down the lantern and blew it out. Arthur listened as it was replaced, and to the soft footfalls as the two children walked away. He was about to stop watching, when a narrow beam of light entered the frame, and he saw the silhouettes of Leaf and Albert against it. They were opening a hatch and climbing out, but as they did so, there was a lot of shouting from up above. It took Arthur a few seconds to separate out some specific words from the general tumult.

"Beat to quarters!"

"It's the Shiver!"

As Arthur heard the words, a strange red wash crossed the mirror, like a crimson oil spreading on water. The dark image of the inside of the Flying Mantis was replaced with something lit by a very bright, green-hued sun, so glaring that Arthur had to squint.

"You may wear gloves," said a voice from somewhere within the bright light. "But I can still see the mark of MY RED HAND!"