Lady Friday (10 page)

The scream rose to an almost unbearable pitch, then fell away in a series of horrible grunts before starting to rise again. Arthur was already running, feeling the walls and the way ahead with his hands to find the passage. He felt Suzy crashing along behind him and Fred shouting something incomprehensible that was probably “Run!”

All of them knew the scream had come from somewhere outside the wharf. Somewhere behind them. Every instinct told them to get to the end of the wharf as fast as they could.

Whatever lay ahead, hidden under the hilly peninsula of papers, tablets, hides, and papyrus scrolls, had to be less dangerous than whatever was prowling around outside, screaming its rage at the sky.

Arthur’s headlong flight ended suddenly with an impact that sent him momentarily to his knees. But the pain of running full tilt into what felt like a giant mattress—but was probably a pile of old vellum manuscripts—helped clear his head a little. In that moment of brief respite, he clutched at the Key on his belt, and though he did not order it to do anything, as soon as his fingers closed on the cool ivory, he felt the fear dissipate. He could still hear the horrible shrieking but he wasn’t driven mad by a complete and unreasonable fear.

“Hold on!” shouted Arthur. He was kicked and pushed by Suzy and Fred as they tried to get past him, still fleeing from the scream. “It’s some kind of sorcery. It’s just a noise!”

His words had no effect. Suzy slid by and he felt the impact of Fred’s elbow as he barged past. Then he was alone in the dark and they were crashing and banging their way ahead of him.

“Stop!” yelled Arthur, but he knew they wouldn’t unless he actually used the power of the Key on them.

Instead he followed them at a slower pace, keeping one hand on the Key while he held his other hand out in front of himself to feel the way.

Behind him, the screaming drew closer and then was suddenly softened by the rumble of part of the wharf’s piles of paper falling over, followed by angry snorting, ripping, and shoving noises as something tried to bull its way through the now-blocked passage.

Arthur felt a different fear then, but it was a rational fear. He could keep it in bounds, while trying to go just a little bit faster without running into something and knocking himself out.

He was thinking about that when he suddenly felt his way around a corner and emerged into unexpected lantern light. A single strom lantern (as they were called in the House due to a clerical error) hung from a bamboo hatstand in the far corner of a chamber about as big as his living room back home, with ragged walls of piled-high papers, a roof made of stitched-together hides covered in the sticklike writing of some strange alphabet, and a window that was haphazardly framed by two stacks of slates and a hollow log, all of them written on.

Suzy and Fred were still trying to run away but with little success, as Ugham had caught them and was holding them under his arms. At the same time he was kicking a

Denizen who was trying to hit him with a long wooden pole that had a hook on the end. Three other Denizens were hastily climbing out through the window, and beyond them Arthur could just make out the debris-filled waters of the canal.

“Back, back, foul fiend!” chanted the Denizen with the pole, and then with a half-glance behind him, “Wait for me!”

“Who dost thou call fiend?” bellowed Ugham. He kicked the pole down and advanced on the Denizen. “The fiend is without, or so that noise would attest. But where do your fellows flee?”

The Denizen looked at his empty hands, then turned and ran. Unfortunately the marble slab that was the windowsill tilted back as he jumped and he fell back down in front of Ugham, who put one heavy foot upon his chest.

At the same time, there was an immense crash somewhere back along the wharf, and the pitch of the screeching went still higher, so high that Arthur winced and a set of four recently emptied fine porcelain teacups near the window hummed and vibrated before suddenly exploding.

Just as the cups shattered, there was a very loud splash and the screaming stopped. The sound of falling bits and pieces continued, but it still felt strangely quiet.

“The creature has fallen through these rotten boards,” said Ugham, “into the canal.”

He stamped his foot in emphasis and the Denizen groaned. Suzy, finding herself in the crook of Ugham’s left arm, tilted her head back with a puzzled look. Fred, under the Newnith’s right arm, had a similar expression.

“You can put me down, Uggie,” said Suzy. “I s’pose I got ensorcerated into running away.”

“It was the sound,” said Fred as Ugham set the two Piper’s children gently on their own feet. He shook his head as if a remnant of the scream was still lodged inside. “I had to get away from the sound. What was it anyway?”

“I don’t know,” said Arthur. “Hopefully it’s drowning. Are you a Paper Pusher?”

This question was addressed to the Denizen who was groaning under Ugham’s foot. He didn’t answer, but continued to moan.

“I asked if you’re a Paper Pusher,” said Arthur. “I’m Arthur, the Rightful Heir to the Architect, and I need your help.”

Still the Denizen didn’t answer, but he stopped groaning. Then, as Ugham grunted and began to press down harder with his foot, he quickly spoke.

“I’m not saying one way or another. Maybe I is a Paper

Pusher and if I am, why then, I’d be responsible for this here wharf number seventeen, stretch twelve, and I’d be a fully paid-up Branch Secretary of the Noble and Exalted Association of Waterway Motivators, and you’d not be and you’d have no business on the canal.”

“What’s your name and precedence within the House then, cully?” asked Suzy.

“Peter Pirkin, Primary Paper Pusher, First Class, 65,898,756
^th
in ... Oh, you’re a sharp one. Got me proper, didn’t you?”

“Okay, Peter Pirkin Paper Pusher,” said Arthur. “I really am the Rightful Heir to the Architect, and that means the Middle House as well and everything and everyone in it. I need you to help me get up to Lady Friday’s Scriptorium.”

“Can’t,” said Pirkin. “And won’t.”

“Why can’t you?” asked Arthur. “We’ll deal with
won’t
in a minute.”

“Can’t, because the canal only goes up to the Top Shelf.”

“Well, you can take us that far at least,” said Arthur. “Now—”

Before he could go on, the floor under his feet suddenly shuddered, and the timbers lifted up several inches before subsiding again. This phenomenon was immediately repeated, this time with a horrible grunting, gargling sound.

“It didn’t drown,” said Fred.

“It’s under us,” said Suzy.

“Let me go!” called out Pirkin. “Let me go!”

“Where?” asked Arthur. The floor was creaking and splintering all around them.

“The raft!”

Ugham picked up Pirkin by the collar of his paper-patchwork smock and ran to the window. He looked out and immediately had to dodge a thrown bronze tablet shaped like a large piece of toast.

“A strange flat vessel does indeed lie a jump away,” he reported, in between ducking or dodging thrown House records of various media.

“You have to take us too!” said Arthur to Pirkin. He jumped aside as several floorboards near him suddenly exploded into splinters. A long, extremely sharp, straight spear—or horn—of pure Nothing contained within a spiral wrap of silver wire thrust through and up at least six feet before it was withdrawn. “All of us go, or all of us stay!”

“We can’t!” squealed Pirkin. “You have to be a member of the association to ride the rafts!”

“We’ll join!” shouted Arthur as the Nothing horn smashed through the floor again. This time he saw the head of the beast as well. It was a Nithling, one of the elemental kind made of pure Nothing, in this case contained within an armature or framework of silver wire. It looked like a huge crazy wire sculpture, a mad cross between a unicorn and a wild boar, but with roiling dark matter inside the wire instead of empty space.

It didn’t have any eyes or any visible mouth.

“You can’t just join—”

“Throw him on the raft and jump!” ordered Arthur. He had the Key in his hand now, in its sword form, and as the boar-unicorn smashed through again, he struck at its horn.

It was like hitting a stone, but even though Arthur’s hand was jarred by the impact, the Nithling beast felt it much more. Its horn bent from the blow, it squealed, horribly loud and high-pitched, and withdrew back under the wharf.

Arthur turned, climbed through the window, and jumped to the raft below, almost missing it as it was already moving away. Six Paper Pushers were shoving with their poles, the looks on their faces indicating that they were more concerned with putting some distance between themselves and the Nithling creature than anything else, including a late addition to the crew.

The seventh Paper Pusher was Pirkin. He was picking himself up with more assistance than he probably wanted from Ugham, while Suzy and Fred stared back at the collapsing wharf and the horrible beast that was climbing up through the records to shriek after them.

Fortunately the Paper Pushers knew their business well, and a swift current picked up the raft and raced it away, propelling the odd vessel several hundred yards out into the canal, with the wharf and the beast quickly lost in the gloom.

The current of textually charged water propelled the vessel, Arthur saw, because the raft was entirely covered in writing of various kinds and was in fact made up entirely of House records. In this case, hundreds or perhaps thousands of bundles of papyrus tied together with ribbon that was itself printed on, the raft then given greater structural strength by the addition of bracing struts that were long, thin planks covered in something that must be writing, though to Arthur it looked more like random woodworm trails.

The whole raft was about the size of half a football field, though parts of it looked as if they had sunk lower than intended and were waterlogged or actually submerged. The part that held Arthur’s interest, though, was a but right in the middle. A solid-looking construction of marble tablet walls and a writing slate roof, it had a chimney with smoke coming out the top and soft yellow light attested to the presence of one or more strom lanterns.

Arthur started for this shelter immediately, this time not even trying to suppress the shivers that were emerging from somewhere inside him and making his hands and teeth shudder. Part of it was cold, and part of it was shock. He’d seen some terrible things in the House, but the boar-unicorn was one of the worst.

I hope it can’t swim,
thought Arthur, quickly followed by,
I hope it isn’t coming after us ....

“Stop,” said Peter Pirkin, raising one finger in Arthur’s face. “All right, you’re on the raft, we’ll let that go by, even if it is against both the rules and the articles of the association. But you are definitely not coming into the meeting house.”

“Yes we are,” said Arthur simply. He brushed some snow off his shoulder and walked on. “I’m too cold to argue.”

“Cold? This isn’t cold!” said Pirkin. “Why, we’ve been in currents so cold that only the moving text keeps the ice broken and then only long enough for the raft—”

“Stand aside, please,” chattered Arthur. Pirkin had kept walking backwards in front of Arthur and now stood in front of the door to the but—a door made from a single piece of bark with pictograms on it.

“No, I really have to draw ... Oh, stuff it. No one cares anyway. Look at all the help I get from my fellow members of the association! It’s bad enough when they won’t pay their dues, but as for repelling unauthorized passengers ...”

Pirkin gestured to the half-dozen other Paper Pushers who were watching with interest from what they hoped was a safe distance, resting on the poles they had used to push off from the canal’s shallower waters. Big broad-bladed paddles lay next to them, which would make quite useful weapons, but they made no move to pick them up.

Suzy waved to them, and after a moment, four of them waved back.

“Come in, then,” said Pirkin with a sigh. “You’d better get out of those wet things and put on some proper written-up clothes anyway. Never know when we might all end up in the water.”

 
“Are you afraid?” asked Lady Friday. She folded her wings and walked closer to Leaf, who stood completely still and felt very, very small.

“Yes,” whispered Leaf. The light was still too bright for her to look up, to face Lady Friday.

“It is interesting, fear,” said Friday. “There is always a lot of it in you mortals. I like a little of it, but not too much. That is why those I taste must be asleep, lest present fear overwhelm the other, older experiences. Now, do you know why I have brought you here, Leaf?”

“No.”

“I do not drink from young mortals,” said Friday. “Their experiences are too fresh, too slight to savor. Old mortals are best. Ah, how I enjoy a lifetime of eighty or ninety mortal years, with all the complex flavors of love and hope and sorrow and joy. If only the taste lasted longer than it does. Ah, well! You have caught me full of mortal experience and I do believe some melancholy has lingered on my palate .... Yes, I feel quite sad that the lives I taste are so quickly gone, and I must discipline myself not to immediately have some more ....”

She paused, and though Leaf could not look, she had the horrible suspicion that Friday was licking her lips.

“Now, as for you, Miss Interfering Leaf. I have brought you here because even though I have a most excellent plan to not only remove your friend Arthur but also several other major annoyances, I am not so stupid as to count on its success. My spies tell me Arthur is most attached to his friends, that he would do anything to help them. So you will serve as bait for a trap, or as a negotiating point, or a hostage, or something equally useful should the occasion arise. Just do as you are told and stay out of the way.”

“What if I don’t?” said Leaf, but again it didn’t come out as defiant. It sounded pathetic and hopeless.

“You are also not stupid, I think,” said Friday. “As I hold you to use against Arthur, I hold someone to use against you. Do I not?”

Leaf froze, unable to think of any response to that.

“Do I not?” snapped Friday. “Some blood relation, I think. Aunt Orange or Apple or some such fruity name.”

“Mango,” whispered Leaf. “Don’t ... please don’t experience her.”

I’m begging,
she thought, some part of her unable to believe the situation she was in.
I’m begging for Mango’s life, or something close to it.

“Oh, I can still feel the poignancy of it!” declared Friday. “The emotion is lasting longer! I almost feel like a mortal and it must be at least a minute .... No ... it’s fading .... Axilrad, I must have another batch .... No ... too soon ... I’ll run out ... perhaps some other distraction ...”

Leaf heard the Trustee’s wings unfurl and she threw herself forward, onto the hard stone.

“Please! Don’t do anything to Aunt Mango!”

“Your mango shall be the last fruit I taste,” called out Friday with a clear, carrying laugh, and then with a single, powerful beat of her wings, she leaped back up into the air.

Leaf stayed facedown, trying not to sob, her hand unconsciously going to the Mariner’s medallion, her fingers clutching it so hard they turned almost as white as the whalebone disc.

She lay there for at least a minute, letting the fear slowly ebb away, to be equally slowly replaced by her natural courage and determination. Now that Lady Friday had gone, she could think again, no longer struck with a feeling that had been as close to blind panic as she’d ever experienced.

So long as Friday’s not in front of me I can be brave,
thought Leaf. She bit back a sob.
That’s better than being a total coward, I guess. I just have to stay out of her way ....

“I told you,” said Harrison. “Guess you’ll help me now, won’t you?”

Leaf didn’t answer. She slowly stood up and looked over at the balcony on the crater rim where Lady Friday and her attendants were alighting. She watched them go inside, ignoring Harrison.

If I give in now, she’ll just experience Aunt Mango anyway,
thought Leaf.
Giving in never works ... and I can’t let her use me against Arthur ....

“I said you’d better help me now,” said Harrison again, stepping around so he was in front of her and she couldn’t ignore him.

“Why?” asked Leaf. “She won’t keep her word. Besides, Arthur will sort her out before too long. You’d do better to help me.”

“What?” asked Harrison weakly. “But you’ve seen Her, the power of the Key ....”

“You’d better decide whose side you’re on,” said Leaf. “You said you wanted to get back to Earth, didn’t you?”

“Yes ...”

“Do you reckon Lady Friday will ever let you go?”

“No ...”

“Then help me!” urged Leaf. “Is there a telephone anywhere here that connects with the House?”

“I don’t ...” replied Harrison. He looked around, to check if any Denizens were in earshot, but he and Leaf were alone in the crater, save for the fallen sleepers who lined the shore.

“I don’t know ....” he continued. “I’d have to ask a Denizen. But they’d never tell me. It’s pointless anyway. Just help me work and we’ll both stay out of trouble.”

“Staying out of trouble won’t get you back to Earth,” said Leaf. “Or help anyone else. I’m frightened by Friday too, but we have to do
something!”

“I can’t,” whispered Harrison. “I ... I haven’t got the guts. Not anymore.”

“Cover for me, then,” said Leaf. “Give me some job that’ll let me wander around carrying something.”

She didn’t mention that this was a trick she’d learned from her friend the Ship’s Boy Albert, who’d been killed by Feverfew.
Skiving,
he’d called it. The trick was to find something that looked like it needed to be delivered somewhere else on the ship and then you could walk around for ages with it before someone in authority noticed and took action. Denizens in particular were susceptible to this ruse, as they couldn’t imagine someone inventing a task for themselves.

“But if you’re caught somewhere you shouldn’t be, they’ll blame me!”

“If you won’t help, then you’re as bad as She is,” said Leaf. “You’ll be with the enemy when Arthur gets here.”

“He will come? You’re sure? Is he really ten feet tall?”

“He will come,” said Leaf with a conviction she was far from feeling. “He’s ... he’s not quite
that
tall, but he is ... um ... well, he’s beaten four Trustees already.”

“I guess you could go get pillowcases from the linen store,” said Harrison. He was weakening, Leaf could tell. “But that won’t help you find a phone. Like I said, you’d have to ask a Denizen ....”

“Yes,” said Leaf. “I have an idea about who to ask. Where is the linen store?”

Harrison didn’t answer; instead, his face twisted up in indecision.

“Remember, helping me is helping Arthur, and he’s your only chance of ever getting away from here,” said Leaf. “It’s now or never.”

“I’ll do it ....” said Harrison. “I mean, okay! I’ll do it. Come on—I’ll show you the way to the linen store. It’s at Circle Three, Twenty-five Past.”

“What about them?” asked Leaf quietly, pointing to the quiet bodies on the shore.

“Martine takes them from here,” said Harrison. “She’ll come out when the sun goes down.”

“Who’s Martine? A Denizen?”

“No, she’s human too. She’s been here longer than me. Crazy as a loon, though. She only works nights. Not that night here is anything like home. There’s three moons and they’re big ... and they change color.”

“Maybe she’s worth talking to,” said Leaf. “Where would I find her?”

“Circle Six, Half-Past,” muttered Harrison. He started walking back to the door where they’d entered the crater. “But she is crazy. Come on!”

Leaf followed him, but not without a glance back at the sleepers.

“Also, I need a drink. Have you got human food and, drink, and uh, a toilet I can use? And tea?”

“I get basic food and there are four restroom facilities for us mortals throughout the establishment,” said Harrison. “But I don’t have any tea. The Denizens love the stuff and they keep it for themselves. I don’t have any coffee either, so you’ll have to make do with water.”

“Oh, I don’t want the tea to drink myself,” said Leaf. “I was thinking about using it to trade with a Denizen. I’ll have to think of something else.”

Just after she spoke, a thought did occur to her and she bent down and picked up a small stone, one of the few that lay around the smooth floor of the crater.

“By the way, do you know where that Denizen Feorin hangs out?” Leaf asked.

“There aren’t many Denizens here,” said Harrison. “Maybe fifty altogether. Most are up on Circle Ten from Ten to Noon to Ten Past. I guess they have rooms there. They supposedly patrol around as well, but I don’t often see them on my rounds—which reminds me, I’ll have to get started again soon. Got to keep everyone turned ....”

He sighed and bent his head, and the small spring in his step that had come on when he agreed to help Leaf disappeared, giving way to his usual depressed shuffle. Leaf followed silently, her head full of plans and schemes, most of which she had to admit were totally impractical. She kept coming back to just three basic aims, but was entirely unsure how she might achieve them.

First, find a telephone to the House and call Arthur. Second, find Aunt Mango and get her away from wherever she is. Three, hide out with Mango somewhere until help comes.

Actually, there were four basic aims, Leaf thought, and the fourth was perhaps the most strident in her mind.
Keep away from Lady Friday.

As Harrison had predicted, they met no one on the way to the linen store. This was a chamber almost identical to the room where Leaf had found the Skinless Boy’s pocket. It brought back unpleasant memories and also made her think, because the linen was all branded with the name of the same laundry service that served East Area Hospital.

“All this stuff gets washed back on Earth, right? Not here.”

“I guess so,” said Harrison. “I dump the dirty sheets and stuff in a chute and get the fresh linen here ....”

“So someone must take it back and forth,” said Leaf. “There must be a way between here and Lady Friday’s hospital back on Earth.”

“If there is, you need to have her power to use it,” said Harrison.

Leaf shook her head.

“No way Lady Friday takes the dirty laundry to Earth and carries back a load of fresh sheets herself! So there must be a way ... but maybe it’s some kind of sorcery. It’s worth checking out, though.”

“I have to get back to the people stores ... I mean wards,” said Harrison nervously. He was backsliding already. “Axilrad might come looking. Don’t stay away too long. You’d better come and help me fairly soon, otherwise—”

“You go, then,” said Leaf. “I’ll find you when I need you.”

“Don’t do ... well, don’t ....” Harrison’s voice trailed off. He looked at the floor, scuffed his feet, and left.

Leaf looked around the linen store till she found a loose bolt in one of the metal shelves. She pulled it out and used it to scratch some invented letters onto the stone from the crater, in an effort to make it look interesting and strange. Perhaps even
sorcerous ....

At the same time, she practiced a rhythmic, barking cough.

“Ah-woof, ah-woof, ah-woof.”