Superior Saturday

EIGHTEEN

ARTHUR DIDN’T HAVE time to think or duck. He didn’t need to. Without any active thought on his part, he leaned aside and caught the bolt as it passed, right in the middle of the shaft. The Nothing bottle on the end remained unbroken.

Arthur reversed the bolt to use it as a hand weapon and advanced upon Dartbristle, who was hastily cranking his crossbow to ready it for another bolt.

‘The strictest orders,’ panted the Rat. ‘Shoot anyone who might interfere. I don’t want to shoot you, but I must!’

Arthur stopped. Something – several somethings – were coming out of the steam clouds. Six Ratcatcher Automatons, their long feelers testing the way ahead as they advanced down the quay.

Dartbristle saw the expression on Arthur’s face and turned around, just as the closest Ratcatcher charged. The Rat threw his crossbow aside, picked up the net, and hurled it into the water. He tried to draw his long knife, but throwing the net had taken all the time he had. The Ratcatcher’s left claw caught him around the neck and snapped closed. Another automaton came up and wound its razor-edged feelers all around him and began to squeeze.

This was a mistake. Dartbristle was almost certainly already dead anyway, but the squeezing broke the Nothing bottles that were in their special wooden case on his back. Nothing exploded out, and the Ratcatchers’ feelers instantly dissolved. The automatons hummed and squealed in alarm as the Nothing ran like quicksilver over their claws and out along their bodies, dissolving everything it touched.

In a few seconds, no trace remained of either Dartbristle or the two Ratcatcher Automatons. The Nothing coalesced back into a puddle of darkness and began to sink into the bulwark bedrock, cutting a deep shaft through the reinforced House material.

Arthur eyed the remaining four automatons and readied himself for their attack. But they didn’t charge. They waved their feelers around and their red central eye things glowed, and then the four of them turned around and disappeared back into the warm fog.

‘Recognised you weren’t a Rat,’ said the Will. It had two wings now, and was hopping along the surface of the pool, albeit without having any claws or a tail. ‘Which is lucky. I believe they have a bit of a problem with recognising their legitimate prey.’

‘Poor Dartbristle,’ said Arthur. ‘He didn’t want to shoot me, or at least not me in particular. What did he throw into the pool?’

‘I shall take a look,’ said the Will. It scuttled across the surface and grabbed the floating net in its beak to drag it back to Arthur, who sat back down on the edge of the pool and let his feet dangle in the water. His boots had come off after all, in his rapid descent, and his coveralls were ripped to shreds below the knees and elbows. His belt was still on, fortunately, and Arthur tapped the pouch to confirm that the bag with the Key, the Mariner’s medal and Elephant was still there.

‘These are things of sorcery,’ said the Will as it dropped the net near Arthur. ‘I do not know what they are for.’

Arthur picked up the net. There were three large round glass floats inside. One red, one blue and one green. They looked like the same kind of glass that Simultaneous Bottles were made from.

‘He threw these into the water, even though it meant he didn’t have time to draw his weapon,’ said Arthur. ‘It was that important.’

‘Then we should put them back in the water,’ said the Will. ‘To respect his dying wish.’

‘What?’ asked Arthur. This wasn’t the kind of behaviour he was used to from any part of the Will.

‘We should put them back in,’ the Will repeated. ‘As a matter of respect. Ah, the text for one of my tail feathers has just dropped in. Back in a moment.’

It left Arthur holding the net and scudded off toward the waterfall that issued from the downpipe.

Arthur lifted the red float and looked at it. It didn’t seem particularly sorcerous.

Arthur held the floats for a minute, thinking about something his mother had once said when she was explaining something to his sister Michaeli and didn’t know he was listening. There is never one absolutely right thing to do. All you can do is honour what you believe, accept the consequences of your own actions, and make the best out of whatever happens.

‘I bet I’m going to regret this,’ he said aloud, and dropped the floats back into the water. They bobbed around his feet and then slowly began to drift out, so slowly that he couldn’t be sure if they were actually propelling themselves or if there was some kind of current.

Arthur watched the floats bob away and tried to plan what he was going to do next. But he still hurt all over – apart from the physical pain, he felt a great load of guilt.

I should’ve got Suzy to swim out with me. I wasn’t thinking. I was too confident. No – I’ve got to stop obsessing. It’s done now. I just have to rescue her. I’ll have to challenge Saturday for the Key anyway. But she has too many sorcerers. So I should go back and get the Army. And Dame Primus, or Dame Quarto and Thingo or whoever. At least the other Keys. But if I do that, it might take too long...

The Will came planing back on one claw a few minutes later, while Arthur wrestled with his conscience, his fears and his half-formed plans.

‘Almost there!’ cawed the Will. ‘Only part of a claw and a tail feather to go!’

‘Good,’ said Arthur. ‘As soon as you’re ready, I guess we’d better go back to the Citadel-’

He stopped talking and cocked his head.

‘What is it?’ asked the Will. It was preening its wing feathers with its beak.

‘The steam engines,’ said Arthur. ‘They sound closer.’

He stood up and turned around.

‘Closer and coming from a different direction.’

The Will stopped preening and looked out across the water with its beady black eyes.

‘Steamship,’ said Arthur. ‘Or steamships. That’s what I can hear.’

‘I can see them!’ said the Will. ‘Look! Eight of them.’

Arthur stared out across the lake. There was too much steam and smoke, but even if he couldn’t see anything, he could hear the rhythmic beat of the engines and the sound of the ship’s wake. Finally one sharp bow thrust its way through the fog, and he saw the front of a Raised Rat steamship, with rank after rank of Newniths mustered on the foredeck.

‘The Piper!’ said Arthur. ‘We’ve got to get out of here!’

‘So much sorcery!’ said the Will. ‘Saturday is bound to respond at any moment!’

‘I think she already has,’ said Arthur. He pointed up at the clouds of smoke above them. A huge ring of fire was beginning to form above the ships, a ring the size of an athletic track, easily five hundred yards in diameter. Flames began to fall from it, small flames at first, like fiery rain, but they began to get bigger and, from the way they changed colour from yellow-red to blue and white, much hotter.

The ships responded by increasing their speed. They were heading straight for the quay where Arthur was standing, their funnels belching smoke as their engines were stoked for maximum power.

‘They’re going to run aground right here!’ said Arthur. ‘Are you complete?’

‘Not quite,’ said the Will calmly. ‘Just one short paragraph to go, but an essential one, to make a flight feather...’

‘Hurry up,’ Arthur urged. As the ships came closer, the ring of fire was moving too, and the storm of incendiary rain was increasing in ferocity.

But it wasn’t setting the ships alight, Arthur saw, or even hitting the Newnith soldiers on the decks. The rain was sliding off an invisible barrier that stretched from the masts of the ships down to the side rails, a sorcerous barrier that was, for the moment, proving impervious to Saturday’s attack.

We don’t have that barrier, Arthur realised. That fire is getting way too close...

He could feel the heat of the flaming rain now, fierce on his face. The drops were so hot that he could see them keep going for several feet underwater, unquenched, their fire lasting for much longer than it should.

‘Are you ready?’ Arthur snapped again. ‘We have to run!’

‘Almost, almost, almost there,’ crooned the raven.

Fiery raindrops were hissing into the water ten feet away. The ships, steaming at full speed, were three hundred yards away. A group of soldiers pointed at Arthur and suddenly there were arrows in the air, which flew true but didn’t make it through the firestorm.

‘Done,’ said the raven. It flew up and perched on Arthur’s shoulder. ‘I am complete. I am Part Six of the Will of the-’

Arthur didn’t wait to hear any more. He turned and ran along the quay as fast as he could go, flames spattering on the stone behind him. Steam klaxons sounded too, and the war cries of the Newniths, which he knew all too well from the battles in the Great Maze.

Through all that noise, through the hammering of engines, the scream of klaxons, the hiss and roar of the firestorm and the shouts, there was still that other sound. A clear and separate sound, beautiful and terrible to hear.

The sound of the Piper, playing a tune upon his pipes.

‘Ah,’ said the raven. ‘The Architect’s troublesome third son.’

‘Troublesome!’ Arthur snorted. ‘He’s a lot worse than that.’

The quay ended at a solid rock face, with no obvious exits. Arthur stared at it for a second, then started to hunt for protuberances or bits of stone that looked out of place. He quickly found one, pressed it, and rushed in as the rock-slab door groaned open.

The cavern beyond was an equipment room, the walls covered with racks of many different metalworking tools, which at a different time would have interested Arthur. With the Piper’s Army landing behind him, he barely spared them a glance.

‘How do I lock the door?’ he asked the Will, after he made sure there was another exit.

‘I have no idea,’ the Will replied.

‘You’ve been here for the last ten thousand years! Haven’t you learned anything?’

‘My viewpoint has been rather limited,’ the raven explained. ‘Not to mention extremely fragmented.’

Arthur grabbed several long iron bars and propped them up against the door, kicking them down so they were wedged in place.

‘That might last a few minutes,’ he said. ‘Come on!’

‘Where are we going?’ asked the Will.

‘Out of here, for a start.’ Arthur opened the far door and looked up a circular stairway made of red wrought iron that was decorated with gilded rosettes in its railings and on the steps. ‘The Piper will take a while to land all his troops, but they’ll send out scouting parties for sure, and I guess Saturday will send forces down. We have to stay out of the way of both.’

‘Saturday may well be occupied high above,’ said the Will. ‘Her tower has reached the underside of the Incomparable Gardens, and the Drasil trees are no longer growing taller.’

Arthur started running up the steps, taking three at a time. The raven flew behind him, occasionally alighting on his head.

‘Why does she want to get into the Incomparable Gardens?’ Arthur asked as he climbed.

‘Because the Incomparable Gardens are the first place the Architect made, and so shall be the last to fall,’ cawed the raven. ‘But also because Saturday believes that she should have always ruled there. She envies Sunday and would supplant him.’

‘Even if it means destroying the House?’ asked Arthur. The stairway was winding up between walkways like the one where he and Suzy had arrived out of the Simultaneous Nebuchadnezzar.

It would be really easy to enter the Improbable Stair right now, he thought. Going up these steps makes it really easy to visualise...

‘She believes the Incomparable Gardens would survive even if the rest of the House crumbles into Nothing,’ said the raven. ‘She may even be correct. Making the lower parts of the House fall was the only way she could stop the Drasils from growing.’

‘So she’ll get in? Can’t Lord Sunday stop her?’

‘I know nothing of Sunday’s current capabilities,’ said the Will. ‘Nor his intentions. We must find and free Part Seven to help us with that. But first, of course, you must claim the Sixth Key from Saturday, the self-proclaimed Superior Sorcerer.’

‘I know,’ said Arthur. ‘But how am I supposed to do that?’

‘Where there’s a Will there’s a-’

‘Shut up!’ protested Arthur. ‘I’m sick of hearing that.’

‘Oh?’ asked the Will. ‘Heard it before? I do apologise.’

‘How about something a bit more concrete?’ asked Arthur. ‘Like a plan, or some intelligent advice for a change?’

‘Hmm,’ said the raven. ‘I take it my lesser Parts have not endeared themselves to you?’

‘Not exactly,’ said Arthur. ‘Some bits are better than others. How long is this stair going to go up?’

‘I do have a plan, actually,’ said the Will, after another fifty steps.

‘Okay, what is it?’ Arthur wasn’t even slightly out of breath, despite running up so many steps. He still found that incredible.

‘Your friend, the Piper’s child, you want to attempt a rescue?’

‘Yes,’ said Arthur.

If Suzy’s still alive...

He stopped and the raven almost crashed into his face before managing to land on his shoulder. ‘Are you sure you’re part of the Will?’ Arthur had to ask. ‘The rest of you doesn’t usually care much about... anyone, really.’

‘It’s all part of my plan,’ the Will assured him. ‘You see, when I was suspended in the rain, I did get to visit many nooks and crannies that were rarely visited by anyone else. Including the hanging cages where they put prisoners.’

‘Hanging cages?’ Arthur didn’t like the sound of that.

‘Yes,’ said the raven eagerly. ‘Now, on the south and west sides of the tower, there’s all the big lifting apparatus and so on. On the north side it’s completely sheer and undisturbed, I don’t know why. But on the east side, there are lots of small extensions, platforms, balconies, crane-jigs and suchlike. Toward the top, around 61620, the Internal Auditors have a buttress that sticks out about fifty feet, and from that buttress they hang cages for prisoners. That’s probably where your friend is now. Unless the Artful Loungers killed her straight off. They are vicious creatures, and those Nothing-poison daggers of theirs-’

‘Let’s assume she’s alive,’ Arthur interrupted. Then he hesitated before adding, ‘I want to rescue her – but how would we get to these cages and not attract the attention of the Internal Auditors? There’s going to be a battle going on – maybe two battles...’

‘That will help us,’ said the Will. ‘But as to how we get there, it’s rather simple. We disguise ourselves as a Bathroom Attendant.’

‘Ourselves?’ asked Arthur. ‘As a single Bathroom Attendant?’

‘Yes,’ croaked the raven happily. ‘You’re almost tall enough to be a short Bathroom Attendant, and I can make myself into the mask.’

‘But why would a Bathroom Attendant go up there in the first place?’

Arthur shuddered as he remembered the gold-masked faces of the Bathroom Attendants who had washed him between the ears, temporarily removing his memory.

‘Because they’re Internal Auditors,’ explained the Will. ‘I mean, all Bathroom Attendants are Internal Auditors, though not all Internal Auditors are Bathroom Attendants.’

‘You mean they work for Saturday? She’s the one who wants all the Piper’s children’s memories erased?’

‘Yes, yes,’ said the Will. ‘It’s all got to do with trying to delay the appearance of the Rightful Heir. Or, if you get knocked off, another one, and so on.’

‘So we disguise ourselves as a Bathroom Attendant, get to the Internal Auditors’ offices, and rescue Suzy from the hanging cage. But how does that fit in with getting the Key from Saturday? Or anything else, for that matter?’

‘Well, there shouldn’t be any Internal Auditors there,’ said the Will. ‘They’re Saturday’s best troops, so they’ll be up top, ready to fight their way into the Incomparable Gardens. Like I said, it’s the east side, so it’ll be the quiet side. We rescue your friend, then we watch the Piper’s troops fight Saturday’s troops and, at the right moment, you open an elevator shaft to the Citadel and bring your troops through.’

‘I don’t know how to open an elevator shaft,’ said Arthur.

‘It’s easy – or at least it will be then, because all of Saturday’s sorcerers that are stopping the elevators will be distracted. Or if they’re not, you use the Fifth Key to take us out, we regroup, and then come back the same way. How does that sound?’

‘Dodgy,’ Arthur said. ‘But the disguise part might work. If I can just rescue Suzy, and all three of us can get out, that’s enough for now. I have to go back to Earth too. There’s something important I need to-’

‘Forget Earth!’ insisted the raven. ‘Earth will be all right. It’s the House we have to worry about.’

‘Isn’t that the same thing?’ asked Arthur. ‘I mean if the House goes, everything goes.’

‘Nope,’ said the raven. ‘Who told you that?’

‘But... everyone...’ stuttered Arthur. ‘The Architect made the House and the Secondary Realms...’

‘That’s Denizens for you,’ said the raven. ‘She made most of the House after she made the Universe. I bet Saturday made up that ‘Secondary Realms’ stuff, the sly minx. The Architect made the House to observe and record what was happening out in the Universe because it was so interesting. Not the other way around.’

‘Most of the House,’ said Arthur intently. ‘You said 'most of the House.” ’

‘Yes, well, the Incomparable Gardens were first out of the Void.’

‘So they are the epicentre of the Universe? What happens if the Incomparable Gardens are destroyed?’

‘Everything goes, end of creation, the jig’s up.’

‘So basically what everyone has been saying is true,’ said Arthur. ‘It just means that until the last bit – the first bit – of the House is destroyed then the rest of the Universe will survive.’

‘I suppose so,’ said the raven. ‘If you want to get technical. Is that a door?’

It flew ahead, up through the middle of the spiral stair.

Arthur followed more slowly, deep in thought.