Grim Tuesday (17 page)

“I’m not an indentured worker,” said Arthur, though he quailed a little as the man lifted his harpoon and made as if to strike. “I’m the Master of the Lower House and I’ve come to get Part Two of the Will.”

The man’s eyes narrowed, but he put the harpoon aside and strode over to Arthur. Standing above him, he gripped the boy’s chin and pushed his head back till their eyes met. At the same time, he blocked an attempted blow from Suzy’s copper pipe, grabbed her by the collar, and lifted her up without looking.

“Master of the Lower House, are ye?”

“Yes…yes, I am!” stammered Arthur. Suzy’s lips were turning blue and her eyes were rolling back in her head. “Leave her alone!”

He reached out and tried to drag Suzy down. At first he couldn’t move the man’s arm at all, then once again his hand felt hot and, with a sudden lurch, Suzy was dropped.

“Well, well,” said the man. “So you are, after all.”

He held out his hand. When Arthur hesitantly took it, they shook vigorously.

“You can call me…let’s see…Captain Tom Shelvocke,” the man said. “A mariner, temporarily becalmed by that slavemaster Grim Tuesday. And who’s this young lady, Master?”

“Call me Arthur,” said Arthur as he helped Suzy up. She gave Tom a nasty look and massaged her throat. “This is Suzy Turquoise Blue, Monday’s Tierce.”

“Sorry about the neck-wrangle,” said Tom, offering his hand to Suzy. “Though by rights, you’d be stuck through and through by my friend, as is my orders from Grim Tuesday. ‘Any indentured workers that step through that door are to be slain,’ he said. But if one of the other Days orders me to leave her alone, well then,
Tom has to wait and think about it and maybe not do anything at all.”

Suzy reluctantly shook Tom’s hand, then stepped back, out of his reach.

“Who are you?” asked Arthur. “I mean, are you a Denizen…or something…someone…er…else?”

“I’m a treasure,” said Tom. “Collected by Grim Tuesday from a place called Earth. You’ve heard of it?”

“Yes,” replied Arthur. “I’m from Earth. I mean, that’s where I live, only I have to be the Master, but not yet…It’s a long story…but why would you be a treasure?”

“Because I’m neither mortal nor Denizen nor Nithling,” said Tom. “Like my brother, the Piper, who Miss Blue has obviously met. I’m one of the sons of the Architect and the Old One, in a manner of speaking. The Old One sired the three of us on mortal women, and the Architect brought us up in the House, with all the changes that brings. When She chained up Dad, we slipped back to the Secondary Realms. I went to Earth and signed up for a few seafaring journeys, here and there and back again. First I knew of Mother disappearing was when Grim Tuesday took me from the deck of my ship and stuck me in here. Took all the power of the
Second Key to do it, and that wouldn’t have been enough if I was ready with my friend at hand. Or in all truth, if I’d drunk a little less rum at dinner, which I wouldn’t normally have done, you understand, if it wasn’t for that blamed bird I shot by accident…but there you have it. I’m bound here by the power of the Key, can venture no farther than the worldlets in my bottles, and must serve Grim Tuesday as an inky-fingered secretary.”

“Nothing wrong with inky fingers,” muttered Suzy.

“What’s that?” asked Tom sharply.

“What’s your ‘friend’ made out of?” asked Suzy quickly and more respectfully than Arthur had seen her speak to anyone.

“She’s made from the luminous trail of a narwhal’s wake under the aurora borealis in an arctic sea,” said Tom. “Mother made her for me, as a birthday present when I was a century old and set fair for a seafaring life.”

“Good,” said Suzy. “There’s a Nithling outside who should meet your friend.”

“A Nithling? Inside the Tower?”

“It used to be Grim Tuesday’s eyebrow,” Arthur explained. “Or so it says.”

Tom laughed again, a deep, booming laugh, and rubbed his hands together.

“Looks like Tuesday’s glass is set for storms. Now, am I right in thinking you’re looking for something in particular in this Treasure Tower, Arthur? Anything I might be able to help ye with?”

Arthur had been thinking about that, and about what Tom had said. A few things had caught his attention.

“What are these ‘worldlets’ in the bottles?” he asked.

“Ah, the bottles are something I taught Grim Tuesday myself,” Tom said. “You see, if you’ve got the art and the craft and the power, and a bottle made special, you can copy a little piece of the Secondary Realms and stick it in that bottle. It’ll stay there, right and tight, place and time and all, unless someone pulls the stopper. And if you’ve got the secret of it, you can visit whatever place you’ve got in your bottle.”

“So they’re all copies of real ships in real places?” Now that Arthur looked closely at the bottles, he could see that the ships were moving, the sea splashing, the sun—sometimes more than one sun—shifting in the sky.

“All but one bottle,” answered Tom. “There’s one
that holds a real place, not a copy. One where time flows like it should, not round and round for a few copied hours.”

“What do you mean?” asked Arthur. “What’s in that one bottle?”

Tom smiled. “I’m as pleased as punch you asked that question, for it’s the one I’ve been wanting to tell you. That single bottle holds a sun, and several worlds, and a sunship, the finest ever built. Sail into the sun, she can, right to its blazing core—with the crew none the hotter for it.”

“Why would you sail to the center of that sun?” asked Arthur.

“Why, you’d sail there to see what Grim Tuesday might have put there ten thousand years ago.”

“The Will?”

Tom smiled and shrugged.

“Can you take us there?”

“I could take one of the Seven Days into any of these bottles at their command, for Grim Tuesday never said nay about that.”

“Well, I, Arthur, Master of the Lower House, command you to take me and Suzy to the center of the sun where Grim Tuesday went ten thousand years ago.”

“It will be my pleasure to go a-sunfaring with the
two of you,” replied Tom. “We’ll just need some bright-coats, star-hoods, and Immaterial Boots.”

The mariner went over to a chest behind the barrels and reached way down inside it, far further than it was deep. He quickly produced several long overcoats that shimmered in different colors, like mother-of-pearl. He threw these to Arthur, who nearly collapsed under the weight of what felt like a hundred pounds of wool. Then he threw across several pairs of boots identical to the ones he was wearing himself, that just looked like ordinary rubber seaboots. Finally he gestured to the corner of the table.

“And we’ll need the saltshaker off the luncheon corner of my board, Miss Blue, if you don’t mind. Likely Old Tuesday will have left some Fetchers aboard.”

Arthur separated out the pile of coats into half a dozen garments. One looked to be his size, so he happily discarded his apron and tried it on. The coat fit perfectly. Despite its weight, it was very cool and very soft, and Arthur immediately liked it.

“Star-hood in the collar,” said Tom. He put on a brightcoat himself and took the huge silver saltshaker from Suzy and put it in his pocket. Then he folded up his collar and unfurled a hood that was made from what Arthur thought must be loosely woven starlight. It
sparkled and shimmered, barely visible, save for the faint outline where it touched Tom’s hands.

“Drag it right over, you won’t come to harm,” Tom instructed. He pulled the hood completely over his face and down to the top button of his coat, where it fastened with a single press of his thumb.

“Immaterial Boots on and you’ll be equipped for any trouble of a starry nature,” said Tom. “Just remember to pull your hands into your sleeves if it gets a little hot. Not that you need any of this gear aboard the
Helios,
as I call her, but it’s best to be prepared—we might have some trouble docking.”

“What do we dock with? What’s at the center of that star?” Arthur asked as he struggled to get the Immaterial Boots on. As soon as his feet were snug, they rippled and changed shape to look like his normal runners. Suzy’s became shiny patent leather half-boots.

“A place Grim Tuesday made,” Tom replied. “That’s all I can say. It may be a little hot disembarking there, and hotter still when it’s time to sail away. Are you ready?”

“I’m ready,” said Suzy.

“I just want to look at the register,” said Arthur. He walked over to look at the bronze-bound book. It was about two feet thick, with very thin paper like onionskin.
The open page was printed up with headings and lines, and had some clear copperplate writing filling in each section, obviously copied from the yellow forms that were on the spike.

There was
NUMBER
,
OCCUPATION
,
FORMER NAME
,
ORIGIN
,
MISDEMEANORS
,
PUNISHMENTS
, and the same headings Arthur had seen on Japeth’s indenture card,
EARNINGS
and
OWING
.

The figures under
EARNINGS
and
OWING
changed as Arthur watched, written in clear numerals unlike the copperplate hand that had to be Tom’s.

“One of Grim Tuesday’s conceits,” said Tom darkly. “The register can write everything itself, but he enjoys setting me to enter the new arrivals. That register took over for more than two thousand clerks. Freed them up to go down the Pit.”

“I have to destroy it,” said Arthur. “So the indentured workers can be freed.”

“Many’s the time I’ve tried to rip it apart or wrench it from the table,” said Tom. He was bent over the bottles, carefully reaching across to get one that shone with a clear yellow light. “Grim Tuesday makes strong stuff, particularly when it’s got slavery at the heart of it.”

Arthur tried to rip out the open page. But he couldn’t get a grip. His fingers slid off. Then he tried to pick up
the book, but it didn’t budge at all. It felt like a solid lump of metal bolted to a concrete block.

“I promised Japeth I’d free him and the other workers,” said Arthur. He put both his hands on the open pages of the register and took the deepest breath he could manage.

“I, Arthur, Lord Monday, Master of the Lower House, call upon the power of the First Key to destroy this register! Turn every page to dust and…and break its binding into fragments!”

Arthur’s hands got hot and smoke billowed out from under his palms. But the book didn’t turn to dust or explode into fragments. When Arthur stepped back, it looked just the same.

“Made with the Second Key,” said Suzy. “‘Spect you need that to destroy it.”

Arthur didn’t reply. He stared down at the register, watching the
OWING
figure increase for some poor Denizen who had the former name
Sargarol
and was now just a thirteen-digit number and
Driller Fifth Class
.

As he stared, a yellow form fluttered out of the air and landed next to the book. Arthur picked it up, expecting to see the record of a newly indentured worker.

But this was a telegram, just five lines of uneven capital letters from some really old typewriter that said:

CAPTAIN STOP THIEVES IN TOWER

STOP SLAY ALL INTRUDERS STOP

NO EXCEPTIONS STOP REPORT ANY

INCIDENT IMMEDIATELY STOP GRIM

TUESDAY END

A
rthur glanced across at Tom. The old mariner was rearranging the bottles, intent on his task. Without looking directly at the telegram, Arthur slowly dropped his hand over it and then slid it across the table towards his waist. He coughed as he crumpled the paper to disguise the noise, and thrust the balled-up telegram deep into the pocket of his brightcoat.

“How do we get inside?” Suzy asked as she bent over to look inside the bottle Tom had carefully placed in front of her. “Is that the sunship?”

“The
Helios
. A fine vessel, one of the finest in my fleet. Though she sails with the solar winds of space rather than on the seas I love, I rate her as my third most favorite ship, after the sloop
Polly Parbuckle
and my Ophiran quinquereme.”

“Looks like a metal turtle,” said Suzy. She looked at Tom and quickly added, “No insult meant, your honor.”

“None taken, young miss,” Tom replied. “She does look like a metal turtle, and that’s a fine shape for sunfaring. Now, I’ll ask you to place your left hand upon
the bottle and look deep at my
Helios
while I ready the spell to take us in. Mind you—stare at the ship and not at one of the planets or the sun itself. Are you ready, Arthur?”

Arthur hesitated. Having experienced the awfulness of the Pit firsthand, he really wanted to destroy the register and free the indentured workers before he headed into the sunship.

“What if you helped me take the register?” he asked Tom, struck by a sudden idea. “You’re the son of the Old One. I’ve got some of the power of the First Key. Maybe together we’d be strong enough to remove it?”

“Remove it together? Perchance we could,” said Tom. “But what then?”

“Could we drop it into the sun we’re going to visit?” asked Arthur. “Out of the sunship?”

“Aye, we could. But that might not destroy it. It depends upon the protections Grim Tuesday wove into its making.”

“Oh…and I guess if we drop it in the sun it would just keep on working and we couldn’t even get it back to try and destroy it some other way.”

Tom shook his head. “If it was not destroyed, it would find its way back here. That is the nature of such artifacts.”

“Maybe we could drop it into the Pit and it would be destroyed by Nothing,” Arthur offered. He reached up and felt the outline of the Atlas in his pocket. “I’ll ask the Atlas.”

“The Atlas?
The Compleat Atlas of the House
?” asked Tom, with obvious surprise. “You have it?”

“Yes,” answered Arthur. “Why?”

“It disappeared at the same time as Mother, ten thousand years ago,” replied Tom. “It is one of her greatest works, after the House itself and the Secondary Realms.”