Chapter Thirteen



Arthur stretched out his arms and drew his hands into the sleeves of his new paper-patchwork coat, so Pirkin could cut the cuffs to the right length. The Denizen was using a huge, old pair of bronze scissors, which should have made Arthur nervous, but he was feeling quite relaxed. It was very warm inside the but on the raft, thanks to a fridge-sized porcelain stove that was sitting on a ten-by-ten-foot slab of red stone deeply chiselled with huge incomprehensible letters. There was no fire visible through the stove’s smoky quartz door, nor had Arthur seen it fed with any fuel, but there had been smoke outside.

New, dry clothes were also a good thing. Arthur, like the others, was now completely dressed (from underclothes up) in garments made from paper or parchment or soft hide, all with lines and lines of writing. He’d expected the clothes to be itchy or uncomfortable, especially the paper coat, but they were surprisingly soft and comfortable. He’d also thought they’d be no use outside in the wet snow, but Pirkin had explained that they would shed water. It was one of the Paper Pushers’ few unique powers, to make clothes that would survive work on the canal and be proof against both textually charged water and the normal kind.

Arthur was also pleased because the raft was moving along the canal at quite a high speed, perhaps twenty miles an hour, fast enough to generate quite a wash behind it. So he was moving towards his objective-if indeed Lady Friday’s Scriptorium was his objective. He was having some thoughts about the situation and what he should do, and was weighing whether he should discuss matters with Suzy and Fred.

They are my friends, he thought. But they are also bound to serve the Piper. Ugham is a good bloke, but ultimately he has to serve the Piper too. If we get to the Key, Ugham would have to try to take it for the Piper ... or rather, call the Piper in, since he wouldn’t be able to take it himself. I wonder if he has some means of contacting the Piper ....

Pirkin finished cutting the sleeves and took up a long needle and some red thread, swiftly hemming the cuffs to finish the process. Arthur was the last to be outfitted, as he had ordered, unconsciously following the ethos of the Army of the Architect, that an officer must look after his or her soldiers first. Suzy and Fred, already resplendent in their typographical coats, had gone outside to make sure the boar-unicorn Nithling was not somehow pursuing them, Ugham following them like a large and faithful hound shepherding some toddlers. The Newnith had been reluctant to change his uniform, but had complied when Pirkin explained that the textually charged currents and other sorceries in the canal would actively try to drown anyone not wearing the correct clothing, as made by the Paper Pushers.

The Piper and Saturday will go for the Scriptorium, thought Arthur. One of them will almost certainly get there before I do, and they will also probably fight over it and try to stop each other. But if I can find Part Five of the Will, it doesn’t matter who has the Fifth Key; the Will can help me get it. Particularly since I don’t trust Lady Friday anyway. So I should try to find the Will first. Though it might also be in the Scriptorium ... I wish Dr. Scamandros were here to do that spell with the gold leaf ....

“Cup of hot water?” asked Pirkin, interrupting Arthur’s reverie. “We haven’t got any tea. Not anymore. We had some on the wharf, but ...”

“Sure.” Though Arthur was now quite warm, a cup of hot anything would be welcome. It might help banish the memory of the cold-and would help if he had to go outside, where it was still snowing. “Are the other Paper Pushers coming in? They don’t need to do any poling now, do they?”

“We’re in the up seven-six current now, and the canal is a full twenty fathoms deep,” said Pirkin. He was quite agreeable now that he had given up trying to prevent Arthur and the others from boarding the raft. “But someone has to watch the raft, make sure nothing falls off or sinks, to upset the trim. Besides, they’re not so used to strangers, being as how they’re only ordinary members of the association and not Branch Secretary like I am.”

Arthur gratefully took the steaming enamel cup he was offered.

“Thanks. So we’re in an up-current? How long will it take to get to the Middle of the Middle? And can we keep going from there to the Top Shelf?”

“We’ll reach the Lower Sky by morning,” said Pirkin. “Then it depends how long to get through the skylock-”

“The Lower Sky? Skylock?” asked Arthur. “What do you mean? I thought the Middle House was all one big mountain.”

“It is and it isn’t,” said Pirkin. He took a swig of his hot water. “Ah, that’s the stuff. Nearly as good as tea, leastways if you haven’t got any tea. Where was I? Oh, the Lower Sky. There’s a sky above the Flat, that’s the Lower Sky. And there’s a sky between the Middle of the Middle and the Top Shelf, that’s the Middle Sky. And then there’s a sky right up top, I suppose. Least there’s clouds and suns and suchlike up above the Top Shelf. Top Sky, that would be.”

“And the skylock?”

“Where the canal goes through,” said Pirkin. “Big gate that slides across. Oh, it’s a right pain to open, I tell you. Needs a hundred ordinary members of the association on the windlass and a couple of Branch Secretaries, at least, to do the counting. Risky business too. Long way to fall if you step off the canal side.”

“So how long will it take to get through?”

“Depends, don’t it?” said Pirkin, with a shrug that spilled hot water on himself. He didn’t seem to notice, though it would have badly scalded a human. “If there’s enough rafts queued on either side, it might already be open, or we can open it fast-like.”

“And once we’re in the Middle of the Middle, how long to get through there and on to the Top Shelf?” asked Arthur.

“Couple of days,” said Pirkin. “Depends on cargo. Got to stop at Burinberg and pick up. Unless everything’s gone to pieces.”

“Gone to pieces? How exactly?”

Pirkin looked at Arthur with surprise.

“Well, you’re part of it, aren’t you? Oddkin’s raft dropped us some letters when he passed .... Where are they now?”

He fished around in his pockets, drawing out numerous folded papers, till he found what he was looking for and handed them to Arthur.

“First one said Lady Friday’s nicked off somewhere and that everyone who wants to should take a holiday and experiencing’s allowed,” said Pirkin. “Second one says Lady Friday’s handed over to Superior Saturday, work must go on as usual, experiencing’s not allowed, obey Saturday’s officers and so on and so forth.”

Arthur quickly scanned the two letters, which had the colourful seals of the relevant Trustee. The first did indeed confirm that Lady Friday was going away, but it did not specifically mention abdication or handing over the Key or her authority in the Middle House.

The second, from Superior Saturday, was much more explicit. Arthur read it in full.

To all Denizens of authority in the Middle House, Greeting. The Lady Friday, Former Trustee of the Architect, has abdicated and resigned from all authority within the Middle House. Her place has been assumed by Lady Saturday, Superior Sorcerer of the Upper House. All Denizens in the Middle House must acknowledge the authority of Superior Saturday and her officers.

You are instructed to follow the orders of any of Superior Saturday’s officers, such orders to take precedence over any standing orders, former orders, traditions, commonplace actions, rituals, regular tasks, or anything else that may conflict with said orders or instructions.

All Denizens of the Middle House will continue with their regular work. The practice known as “experiencing” is forbidden, and the possession of a “mortal experience” is decreed to be a crime, punishable to the utmost degree by any officer of the Upper house.

All Denizens of the Middle House are to cooperate with the officers, troops, and auxiliaries of the Upper House. Some auxiliaries may appear to be Nithlings. They are not Nithlings as such, but auxiliaries in the service of the Upper House.

All Denizens of the Middle House must immediately report to the nearest officer from the Upper House if they should observe, notice, hear, or become cognisant of any information concerning the whereabouts or intentions of the dangerous outlaw Arthur Penhaligon, self-styled Rightful Heir to something or other.

All Denizens of the Middle House must immediately report to the nearest officer from the Upper House if they should observe, notice, hear, or become cognisant of any information concerning the whereabouts or intentions of the rebel known as the Piper, or the malcontent known as the Mariner (aka “the Captain”).

All Piper’s children in the Middle House are, as of now, outlawed and must be destroyed. Loyal Denizens of the Middle House are called upon to attack Piper’s children whenever and wherever they are seen. Evidence in the form of their detached heads should be retained in suitable sacks for presentation to officers of the Upper House.

All creatures known as Raised Rats are, as of now, outlawed and must be destroyed. Loyal Denizens of the Middle House are called upon to attack Raised Rats whenever and wherever they are seen. Evidence in the form of their detached tails should be retained in suitable sacks for presentation to officers of the Upper House.

All and any possessions of any captured Raised Rat or Piper’s Child must also be retained in separate labelled stacks. Should any Raised Rat or Piper’s Child be found to be in possession of a letter or any document, said document must be delivered with utmost haste to any officer of the Upper House.

By order of Lady Saturday, Superior Sorcerer of the Upper House, with tacit approval of Lord Sunday.

Arthur frowned. The letter had the seal of Lady Saturday, a gold disc attached by rainbow-hued wax that constantly changed colour ... but it did not have Sunday’s seal. And what did “tacit” mean?

I’ve got to find out more about Lord Sunday, thought

Arthur. He’d been thinking this for some time. All the things that are done against me seem to be organized by Saturday, and Sunday is just in the background ... or is he?

He dismissed the thought for the moment. He had to concentrate on what was in front of him right now.

“Have you read all of this second letter?” Arthur asked Pirkin cautiously. His hand fell to the Fourth Key at his side. He hadn’t put his belt back on, but he’d made sure it was never out of reach.

“I read ’em both,” said Pirkin. “But like Oddkin said, it’s just a load of old jetsam. Kill Piper’s children? Kill Raised Rats? That’s not something the association would stand for, I tell you. That Saturday ain’t got no rights here. She can do whatever she wants in the Upper House, I suppose, but no one here is going to do stupid stuff just because she says so.”

He paused to take another sip of his hot water, then added, “Or almost nobody. I s’pose those toffee-noses up on the Top Shelf might want to look good. They’re always going on about how close they are to the Upper House anyhow. ‘Top of the Middle just means bottom of the Upper’ they like to say. Most of ’em failed school there, I reckon. They should stick to fixing up records like they’re supposed to.”

“I hope you’re right,” said Arthur. He started to lift his cup but had to grab it with both hands as the raft suddenly lurched and the floor tilted sharply, making his chair slide back to the wall. “What’s happening?!”

“Started up the rise, haven’t we,” said Pirkin. He put down his cup and moved to the door. “Not before time too. About ten hours’ climb to the Skylock and then we should see some sunshine in the Middle. Their weather isn’t broken. I’d best see we’re in the fastest current.”

As Pirkin left the hut, Arthur settled back in his chair. The floor of the raft was now tilted up at about twenty degrees, which both looked and felt quite strange, but Pirkin had not been concerned so Arthur figured he would try not to be as well.

He had just taken his long-delayed sip when the door opened and Suzy and Fred burst in, accompanied by a cold gust of wind and some flying snow. They advanced cautiously to the stove, the cantered floor giving them some trouble, and sat down with their backs to the stove, facing Arthur.

“No sign of the pig thing,” said Suzy. “But Uggie’s keeping watch.”

“Never thought I’d go for a ride on a Paper Pusher’s raft,” said Fred. “Particularly not when I was up for another ninety-nine years of service in the Army before I could even get back to Letterer’s Lark.”

“Still want to be a General, Fred?” asked Arthur.

Fred shook his head slowly and fingered the line of writing around his neck.

“In whose army?” he said. “I don’t reckon Marshal Noon or anyone would trust me now.”

“I’m sure that can be removed,” said Arthur. “Dr. Scamandros, or Dame Primus-”

“Can you do it now?” asked Suzy. “I just can’t stand having to obey the-”

“Suzy! Stop!” both Fred and Arthur interrupted, but it was too late.

“-the Piper,” finished Suzy and as the word left her mouth, the line on her throat gave out a low, whistling hum and both boys saw it suddenly contract on Suzy’s throat.

Suzy coughed once and fell to the floor, sliding down to Arthur’s feet. Her face went bright red and she scratched desperately at her neck, the writing there stark white against the red, irritated skin.

“Arthur!” shouted Fred. “Do something!”

Arthur hesitated, but only for a second. He didn’t really have a choice. He drew the baton that was the Fourth Key and held it against Suzy’s throat as she thrashed at his feet.

“Release Suzy from the Piper’s bonds,” he said quietly.

A faint glow of green light appeared around the baton, and a similar glow surrounded Suzy’s throat. It grew brighter for an instant, bright as an emerald in the sun, then disappeared, taking with it the line of type that forced Suzy to the Piper’s service.

As Suzy took in a deep, racking breath, Arthur stood up and held the baton to Fred’s throat, repeating the process.

It only took a few seconds to release both of them. Arthur sat back down, put the baton on his lap, and raised his empty hand. The crocodile ring on his finger caught the light, glinting in almost equal parts silver and gold. Arthur had to look at it more closely to see that, as he had expected, the gold had crept farther past the fifth line.

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you, Suzy?” he said bitterly. “To make me use the Key.”

“I didn’t really mean to, Arthur,” said Suzy, though her voice lacked conviction. “It just came out!”

“Sure,” said Arthur. He shook his head in exasperation.

“Thanks, though,” said Suzy. She punched Arthur lightly on the shoulder, but he did not react and she stepped back.

“Yes, thank you, Arthur,” said Fred. “It was more than a bit of a worry, you know, not knowing if it was going to choke me sometime. Or cut my head off.”

Arthur didn’t answer. He was furious with Suzy for forcing him to use the Key, but he was also angry with himself for being furious, because it felt so mean not to help his friends when they needed it, just to save himself from becoming a Denizen.

The three of them sat in silence for a few minutes, neither Suzy nor Fred looking up at Arthur. He, in turn, looked down and turned the crocodile ring on his finger so that only the silver side showed. Then he turned it again, back to the gold, and kept on turning, till at last he sighed and looked up.

“What’s Ugham going to do?” asked Arthur.

“I think he’ll be all right,” said Fred. “The Newniths are funny. The ones we were with kept talking about gardening. They’re good soldiers, but they don’t like soldiering, I reckon. They owe the Piper because he made them, but they don’t volunteer to do anything.”

“Uggie’s said he’ll only do what he was ordered to do,” said Suzy. “Look after us. ‘Course, if he gets new orders, that’s different.”

“We’ll have to be careful,” said Arthur.

“Look on the bright side, Arthur,” said Suzy. “Now-”

“What bright side?” interrupted Arthur crossly. “You just don’t take anything seriously, Suzy!”

“She really didn’t mean to make you use the Key,

Arthur,” said Fred cautiously. “Maybe you should say sorry, Suzy.”

“Sorry,” muttered Suzy.

Arthur let out an exasperated sigh, and with it, most of his anger. He never could stay angry with Suzy, even though he knew she had almost gotten herself killed just then on purpose, to make him use his power and free her from the Piper’s compulsion.

“Oh, forget it!” he said. “Okay! Tell me what the bright side is.”

“Now you can tell us what we’re going to do so you can get the Key and fix Friday for good and proper!”

“Yes!” said Fred, his face brightening. “What’s the plan?”

Arthur frowned again, this time in thought, not anger.

“You do have a plan, don’t you?” asked Fred.

“Yes,” admitted Arthur. “But I’m not sure it’s a very good one. We’ll need to find a sorcerer, for a start. Or somehow get in touch with Dr. Scamandros. Or I suppose we might be able to find out what we need to know some other way. Or-”

“How about you tell us the plan?” said Suzy. “Before the others come back in? Between Fred and me, we can probably fix it up.”

“Thanks!” said Arthur, not without sarcasm. “It is pretty basic. First, the Piper and Saturday will both go for Lady Friday’s Scriptorium to try to seize the Key. They’ll expect me to do the same, and I guess that’s what Friday would predict I’d do. But I think I’ll try to find the Fifth Part of the Will first, which may or may not be in the Scriptorium but probably is in the Middle House. And I have a way to find the Will. At least I think I do, if I can get a sorcerer to do a simple spell. If there are any sorcerers in the Middle House ....”

“Sorcerers?” asked Fred. “Depends on what kind of sorcery. There’s heaps of Denizens who use sorcery up in the Top Shelf. Most of the High Guild, though they’re not exactly what you’d call full sorcerers, like that Dr. Scamandros. Binding and Restoration, that’s mostly sorcery anyway. What do you want one of them to do?”

Arthur was about to answer when the door flung open and Pirkin leaned in, his face framed by a flurry of snow. An icicle fell off his nose and bounced on the stone floor.

“All hands on deck!” he said. “There’s some kind of battle going on above us, up under the sky!”


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