Grim Tuesday (26 page)

“You see,” interrupted the Will. “I even think that they might flout the Original Law and strike against you in the Secondary Realms.”

“Well, you should try and stop them here,” said Arthur. “I have to go home. I want my regular life back!”

“That is not possible,” sighed the Will. “However, if you insist on returning, then it shall be so. But you must appoint a Steward for the Second Key, as before.”

“Okay, I appoint you,” said Arthur. He stripped off the gauntlets that were the Second Key and handed them to Dame Primus.

“This is most unorthodox,” said Dame Primus. “But I suppose…repeat after me…‘I, Arthur, Lord of the Far Reaches, Master of the Lower House, Wielder of the Second and First Keys to the Kingdom…’”

Arthur gabbled the words. He had the curious sensation that if he could get away quickly enough then everything would be all right, that he wouldn’t be caught up in anything else.

“I grant my faithful servant, the combined First and Second Parts of the Great Will of the Architect, all my powers, possessions, and appurtenances, to exercise on
my behalf as Steward, until such time as I shall require them rendered unto me once more. There, finished!”

Dame Primus took the gauntlets and carefully put them on. They shed a ruby light as her fingers went in, and rose petals fell from her palms.

“A nice gesture,” said Dame Primus approvingly.

“Can you fix my leg now?” asked Arthur anxiously. He pushed it forward so that its foreshortened length and twist were obvious.

Dame Primus bent down to examine it. She frowned and held out her hand. A pair of pince-nez appeared, which she fixed to the bridge of her nose before looking again.

“How did this happen?”

“I broke my leg falling on the pyramid,” said Arthur. “Then I fixed it with the power of the First Key, the power that was left in my hands.”

“Ah,” said Dame Primus. “Then there is a problem.”

“A problem?” whispered Arthur. “Can’t you fix it?”

“I can use the First Key to reverse what you did. But then your leg will be broken, and as it will effectively have been broken by the Key, it cannot be mended by any magic that would not transform you completely.”

“Transform me?”

“Into a Denizen. You would no longer be mortal, which I gather you still wish to be. The Architect knows why!”

Arthur thought about how much his leg had hurt when he’d hit the pyramid. He thought about his life. His regular life. He wanted it, every boring bit that he’d ever complained about. New school and all.

“If that’s what it takes,” he said slowly. “But I still want to go back. Only…if I can go straight back home, that would be good. I don’t want to be lying around with a broken leg in the street.”

“I am sure that can be arranged,” said Dame Primus. “There is now no reason not to use the Front Door. In fact, I shall make a point of using it, and at the same time post warnings with the Lieutenant Keeper that you are to be left alone.”

“The Lieutenant Keeper…” Arthur said, suddenly struck by a thought. “Does he come under the Lower House? I mean, he said something about there being no Captain Keeper for ten thousand years. Was that because of Monday not signing something? Why don’t we…
you
just promote him?”

“The Captain and Lieutenant Keeper are appointed by all the Days,” said Dame Primus. “The current Captain
Keeper is merely missing, so cannot be replaced until his fate is determined, if it ever is.”

“Oh,” said Arthur. “I owe the Lieutenant Keeper a favor, so I thought maybe…also, there are a couple of Denizens who helped me here. If you can, give them good jobs. A new indentured called Japeth, who used to be a Thesaurus.”

“A Thesaurus is always useful,” said Dame Primus. She nodded to Monday’s Noon, who bowed to Arthur and made a careful note in a little linen-bound notebook.

“And a Supply Clerk called Mathias.”

Arthur glanced over to the bench where Suzy was now attacking some sort of cream-filled pastry.

“And Suzy, of course. I could never have done any of it without her. Maybe you could give her a holiday or something like that?”

“Suzy is always taking holidays,” replied Dame Primus. “Whether she should be having them or not. But some reward can doubtless be discovered through negotiation.”

“And Tom,” added Arthur. “The Captain. Please don’t have him arrested.”

“Very difficult character to arrest,” muttered Noon.
“Shouldn’t like to try it myself. Amazed Grim Tuesday managed to capture him.”

Dame Primus gave Noon a quelling glance.

“Since you ask, Arthur, we shall not bother the Mariner unless he bothers us or comes to our attention in such a way that we cannot ignore his transgressions.”

“I think that’s everyone,” said Arthur. “Let’s get on with it. How do we get to the Front Door?”

“Transfer Plate,” said Dame Primus. “To Doorstop Hill in the Lower House. Now, where have they gotten to? Sneezer!”

Arthur started again as Sneezer stepped out from behind him.

How had he gotten there without me noticing again?

“I have two Transfer Plates, ma’am,” said Sneezer, placing two quite ordinary-looking yellow-and-white china plates on the grass. “The Combe pattern. Miss Blue has the third plate for her cakes.”

Suzy was already hurrying over, stuffing a cake in her mouth while she wiped the crumbs off the plate she was carrying. She put it down next to the others.

“Where are we going?” she asked cheerfully, with her mouth full.

Dame Primus grimaced and looked away.

“Doorstop Hill,” she said. “Arthur is going home.
You simply step on the plate, Arthur. Not too briskly. With Grim Tuesday deposed, all lines of communication—and credit, I am pleased to say—are open once more between here and the other regions of the House. Noon, you are in charge here until I return.”

With that, she stepped on the plate in front of her and vanished.

Arthur was about to step onto his plate when Suzy fell against him and gripped his elbow.

“Oops!” she said loudly, but at the same time she slipped something in his hand and whispered in his ear, spraying his neck with crumbs.

“Captain told me to give you this. Don’t let the old madam see it.”

She pushed herself upright and stepped on her plate. Arthur was tempted to open his hand and see what he’d been given, but Noon was watching, so he stepped on his plate too.

And took another step onto the grassy slope of Doorstop Hill.

The Lieutenant Keeper was waiting by the Front Door. A huge door of dark wood that stood between white
stone gateposts on top of the green hill that overlooked the Lower Atrium. Arthur glanced up at the glowing ceiling and the many beams of light that shot back and forth between the ceiling and the town below. He knew better than to look at the Door directly. You could see too much in the Door and easily go mad.

“I greet you, Arthur Penhaligon,” said the Lieutenant Keeper as he saluted. Arthur waved back and, on the return motion, slipped whatever Suzy had given him into his shirt pocket next to the Atlas. It was small and flat, so it fit easily.

“Are you ready, Arthur?” asked Dame Primus. “The Lieutenant Keeper will carry you through when I am done.”

“Almost ready,” said Arthur. He stripped off the pajama-like shirt and trousers, but put his Immaterial Boots back on. They looked like sneakers anyway. Now that the moment had arrived, he couldn’t help put it off just a little. And it wasn’t just because his leg was going to be broken. He turned to Suzy and held out his hand.

“Thanks,” he said awkwardly. He wanted to say more, but didn’t know how.

“See you,” said Suzy. “Next time you come back, we’ll get some proper wings. No more of those rotten ascension ones.”

“Definitely not,” said Arthur. He turned to face Dame Primus, nodded quickly, and shut his eyes.

He didn’t see what she did, but there was an explosion of pain in his leg. He cried out and fell. The Lieutenant Keeper caught him with a swooping motion that carried them both into the Door.

Every step the Lieutenant Keeper took was agony for Arthur. The pain in his leg was terrible, and every jolt sent it out of his leg and up his side all the way to his head.

“Steady,” said the Lieutenant Keeper. “Not much farther.”

Arthur hardly heard him. He wasn’t sure if his eyes were open or not. All he could see were exploding blossoms of bright colors. All he could think about was his leg.

“You are brave, sir,” said the Lieutenant Keeper. “A slight jolt, and—”

Arthur blacked out. When he came to, he was lying on the landing at the bottom of the steps from his room. Doors were banging. There was shouting. He realized that he was screaming.

“Shut up!” called Michaeli. He heard slow footsteps on the stairs, then very fast footsteps and a shout in a very different tone. “Dad! Eric!”

Arthur forced himself to stop screaming. It was surprisingly easy. Too easy, in fact, until Arthur’s paindrenched mind realized it was because he wasn’t getting any air.

I’m having an asthma attack! The stupid Will has reversed
everything
the First Key did to me! I’ve got a broken leg and I’m having an asthma attack!

“Help,” Arthur croaked with what little air he had left. “Asthma…”

It was all too much. As Michaeli turned to dash back up the stairs to get his inhaler and Bob rushed up from his studio, Arthur blacked out again.

A
rthur woke up in the hospital. There was a drip in his arm and an oxygen mask on his face. He felt extremely sick and there was a constant dull ache in his leg. It also felt very odd, which was explained when Arthur raised his head and saw that it was wrapped up in some sort of plastic and carefully placed out of the covers.

“Arthur?”

He looked across and saw his parents. Bob was asleep in a chair, almost snoring, his head rising an inch with every heavy breath. Emily was getting out of the other chair, putting down her folder of luminescent e-paper.

“Mom…”

“You’re going to be absolutely fine,” Emily said. She came over and straightened his blankets and smoothed his hair back. “Not a bad asthma attack. But you have broken your leg. I don’t how you did it. Jack—the surgeon who set it—said it looked like a parachute-jumping injury. But it will be okay too.”

“Our house…the real estate agents…”

“Don’t worry,” soothed Arthur’s mom. “Everything’s
messed up, with the Sleepy Plague and all. Someone just got things confused in the city records and thought the property tax wasn’t paid. We’ll sort it out. You just go back to sleep.”

“I don’t feel sleepy,” said Arthur.

“How is the pain?” asked Emily. “Shall I fetch your nurse?”

“No, no…it’s not so bad,” Arthur answered truthfully. He looked around again, taking in the normality of the white walls, the stainless steel fittings, the panel with its numerous buttons and gauges and connections for oxygen and everything else.

Then he saw the clock, only he couldn’t quite see its face.

“What time is it?”

“Just after five in the morning,” said Emily. “You’ve been out since noon yesterday. The operation finished at seven last night, so you’ve done very well to sleep till now. That’s a good sign.”

She was hiding her concern with her “doctor” manner, Arthur saw. He felt her hand shaking as she smoothed his hair again.

“Five in the morning on Wednesday,” said Arthur.

“Yes,” Emily replied with a smile. “Michaeli and
Eric were here, but I sent them home. And your friend Leaf dropped in.”

“Leaf?” asked Arthur quickly. “Is she okay?”

“How did you know she was hurt?” Emily sounded surprised. “She came in around the same time we did. We met her in the emergency room. Nasty cut, but straightforward. It’s hard to believe that people would try to rob a house during a quarantine emergency. But I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“Is Leaf still here, in the hospital?”

“Yes, she is. Since her parents and brother are here for Q-observation, she’s gone in with them. And some sort of aunt with a peculiar name.”

“Mango,” said Arthur. He leaned back into his pillow, stretched his hands underneath, and immediately felt some things that shouldn’t have been there. The Atlas, a square of cardboard, and the small round-shaped object that Suzy had given him from Tom.

“I might go to sleep now,” he said to Emily, with a yawn. “You should go home.”

“I might as well wait for the snore monster to wake up,” said Emily. “But I’ve got some papers to look at. You just rest up.”

Arthur watched her go back to her chair and pick up
her papers, their pale green glow lighting her face. When she started tapping on them with her smart stylus, he rolled over and touched whatever was under his pillow. But he didn’t pull the items out.

Instead he withdrew his hand. He knew without looking that whatever was under the pillow would take him farther away from the normal life he so wanted to lead. It was already five hours into Wednesday and Arthur was sure the Morrow Days wouldn’t leave him alone. That had been a foolish hope, one he was not going to cling to anymore. If he could survive the Pit and take on Grim Tuesday, then he could face any further challenge. He might not succeed, but it wouldn’t be for lack of trying.

Arthur reached back under the pillow and pulled all three things out. The Atlas was first. It seemed to be its usual self so Arthur put it back. Next came a small disc. Arthur surreptitiously checked it out in the light from the call button. It was bone—probably whalebone, he thought. One side was carved with lots of tiny stars, and the other had a ship on it. A Viking longship, with the sail up and oars out between a row of shields. The disc had a hole at the top, so it could be worn on a leather strap. Arthur looked at it for a long time, then put it back.

The last thing was, as Arthur had felt, a square of stiff cardboard. White cardboard, with gilt edges and several lines of elegant copperplate writing.

It said:

L
ADY
W
EDNESDAY

T
RUSTEE OF THE
A
RCHITECT AND
D
UCHESS OF THE
B
ORDER
S
EA

HAS GREAT PLEASURE IN INVITING

A
RTHUR
P
ENHALIGON

TO A
P
ARTICULAR
L
UNCHEON

OF
S
EVENTEEN
R
EMOVES

T
RANSPORT HAS BEEN ARRANGED

RSVP
NOT REQUIRED