Superior Saturday (15 page)

‘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 Atten dant, 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.

‘Wait! Don’t open it!’ Arthur said, but it was too late. The raven had jumped on the handle and ridden it down, and then pushed the door open with its beak. On hearing Arthur’s call, it turned around and looked back at him, with the door left ajar.

‘Yes?’

Arthur reached the doorway and carefully looked through, out on to a paved square at the foot of the tower. There were two Sorcerous Supernumeraries only three or four feet away, fortunately standing with their backs to the door. Beyond them, the square was packed with a crowd of Denizens. There had to be at least two thousand of them, including hundreds of Sorcerous Supernumeraries and many more full sorcerers of varying ranks, all with their umbrellas folded despite the rain.

The Denizens had their backs to Arthur. They were all looking at a huge iron platform at the base of the tower. As broad and long as a football field, it was about twelve feet high. Made from thousands of plates riveted together, it looked like the deck of a very old battleship, with its hull and upper works sliced off.

Located next to the tower, the massive platform had a dozen twelve-foot-high bronze wheels along two sides. On each corner there were raised, open-roofed turrets packed with sorcerers.

But it wasn’t the platform all the Denizens in the square were looking at. They were staring up at the construction that stood
on
the platform, which looked like a giant bullet. It was a cylinder several hundred feet high, with its bottom half solid bronze and its top half an open framework of bronze rods like a baroque birdcage. This caged section was divided into eight levels, which had woven wicker floors like in a balloon basket. The floors were connected by spindly metal ladders that ran up the full length of the cylinder, from the solid ‘cartridge’ part to the top of the open section.

A dozen of the octopoidal construction automatons perched on the top of the rocket or whatever it was, flexing their tentacles. In the air around them flew fifty or sixty grease monkeys, their wings fluttering. Most of them held shiny pieces of metal.

Like the watching Denizens, all the grease monkeys were looking up. Arthur couldn’t help but look up too, though he also eased the door shut a bit, to make it harder for him to be seen.

Blinking aside a raindrop that fell into his eye, Arthur saw a shape so dark, it had to be composed of Nothing. It was slowly descending out of the rain toward the bronze-wire cylinder, so slowly that at first it appeared to be levitating of its own accord. It was only after Arthur’s eyes adjusted to its darkness that he saw faint lines of light upon its surface, traces made by the Immaterial ropes that were being used by several hundred flying Denizens to bring the object over to the bronze rocket.

The ropes were bright, but it was the dark shape that hurt Arthur’s eyes. He immediately knew what it was: a spike of sorcerously fixed Nothing, like the one that the Piper had used to stop the movement of the Great Maze. This one was much, much taller, though it was also more slender. Arthur figured it to be a hundred feet long, with an incredibly thin, sharp point at the top.

The flying Denizens lined the spike up with the cylinder of bronze wire. When this was done, there was a shouted order from one of their number, and together they released the ropes. The spike fell straight down the remaining few feet and was caught by the automatons, whose tentacles were cased in some kind of protective coating that sparked and glowed as they handled the Nothing. They moved the spike around, shifting it to the right position, and lowered it into place. Immediately the grease monkeys moved in, fitting a collar of a sparkling translucent material—probably Immaterial Glass—to hold the spike in place atop the cylinder.

‘Saturday’s vehicle to pierce the underside of the Incomparable Gardens,’ said the Will, not quietly enough for Arthur’s liking. He eased the door shut and turned on the raven.

‘You need to be quieter and more careful,’ he whispered. ‘There are thousands of Denizens out there.’

‘I thought I was being quiet,’ said the Will, lowering its voice only a little. ‘I haven’t been this corporeal for ages. It’s hard getting used to having a throat ... and a beak.’

‘Well, try harder to be quiet,’ Arthur admonished.

‘Very well,’ croaked the raven, its voice so quiet that Arthur could barely understand it. ‘All I wanted to say was that if that’s Saturday’s vehicle for piercing the Gardens, then it’s likely that all the Denizens down here will get in it. And when they get in it, we can get going.’

‘It must be the assault ram mentioned in Alyse’s orders. And that’s the Exterior Lift One or whatever it was called.’

‘It doesn’t matter what it’s called,’ said the Will. ‘As long as it goes. The sooner Saturday starts fighting with Sunday, the better for us to sneak up the other side of the tower.’

‘Okay.’ Arthur looked down at his ragged coveralls and bare feet. ‘I have to get some clothes.’

‘No problem!’ said the Will. Before Arthur could stop it, it hopped to the door, pried it open, and hopped out, transforming as it did so into a small, extremely dishevelled grease monkey.

He heard the Will say something to the closest Denizen, who answered loud enough for not only Arthur to hear, but every other Denizen within twenty yards.

‘You sure? Asked for me, by name? Woxroth?’

‘Yes,’ said the Will. ‘That was it. Woxroth. Just go in there.’

Arthur pressed his back to the wall and wished that he’d set some firmer ground rules with the Will. He didn’t even have his wrench, and he was wondering whether he could actually strangle the Denizen or just hit him with his fist when the Sorcerous Supernumerary came in, closely followed by the Will, who shut the door behind them.

The Supernumerary looked at Arthur, who raised both his hands, then his fist. When the Denizen just kept staring at him with a sad expression, Arthur lowered them again and said, ‘I just want your coat, hat and boots. Hand them over.’

‘What?’ asked the Denizen. ‘Haven’t you got a letter for me?’

‘No,’ said Arthur. He could feel the frustrated anger rising inside him again, the temper that appeared when his will was thwarted by insignificant creatures. ‘I am Arthur! Give me—’

There was a loud
thock,
and the Denizen suddenly crumpled to the ground. The raven jumped off the back of his head and dropped the cobble it had just used to great effect.

‘What were you talking to him for?’ it asked. ‘Should have just bopped him one.’

‘I was going to,’ protested Arthur as he bent down to take off the unconscious Denizen’s coat. ‘He just looked so sad and pathetic.’

The coat and boots adjusted themselves as Arthur put them on, but they weren’t a bad fit to start with. Arthur looked down at himself and wondered if he’d grown even taller, possibly just in the last few minutes, because he needed to look like a Denizen. If the Will thought that he could pass for a Bathroom Attendant, he must be now almost six feet tall. Almost as tall as his basketball star older brother, Eric, he realised, a stab of melancholy passing through him.

Eric might already be dead; he’ll die when the hospital is bombed and the city goes with it. I shouldn’t be this tall, not for years yet. I feel like my old self is slipping away ... faster and faster ... and I can never be normal again.

He’d just finished dressing, had transferred his precious bag to his coat pocket, and was picking up the black umbrella when the door suddenly flung open. The Will, quick as a flash, transformed into a blanket and threw itself over the unconscious Denizen on the floor.

A sorcerer with a yellow umbrella looked in.

‘Hurry up, idiot!’ she shouted at Arthur. ‘We’re boarding the assault ram! Come on!’

She stood there, watching as Arthur pulled the brim of his hat lower to hide his face and eyes, and tried to think. When he didn’t move, she scowled and gestured with her umbrella.

‘We haven’t got all day! I’ll put you on report in a minute. Woxroth, isn’t it?’

‘Sorry,’ mumbled Arthur. He started over to her, thinking that he might drag the Denizen inside and shut the door, and the Will could konk her with its cobble. But there were more sorcerers looking in from behind her, their attention drawn by her shouting. So instead he just stumbled out the door. As he shut it behind him, he caught a flash of movement, and shuddered as he felt the Will run up his sleeve in the shape of something like a cockroach.

The waiting Denizens were no longer an unruly crowd, staring up at the bronze rocket. They were lining up in a long queue that zigzagged back and forth through the square. The head of the line was at the assault ram, and the Denizens there were climbing the external ladders on the solid bronze part and forming up in ranks on the different floors.

Arthur joined the line, the last in the long queue. The Denizen in front of him, another Sorcerous Supernumerary, looked back at him for a moment, but only gave a mournful sigh and trudged on. Arthur copied her pose, dragging his feet and keeping his chin tucked almost to his chest so his hat shielded his face.

It took quite a while to get to the rocket. Arthur had time to estimate the number of sorcerers climbing into the assault ram. By the time they all got on, he reckoned, there would be five thousand sorcerers on board. Most of them were full sorcerers too, some of them with umbrellas of gold and silver, which meant they were from higher levels he hadn’t even seen. And right at the top, where they might have been all along, there were dozens of Denizens wearing the shiny satin top hats of Internal Auditors, the same as the ones the Piper had killed in Friday’s eyrie in the Middle House. A contingent of Artful Loungers, in one of the middle levels, sat at the side of the rocket and kicked their legs through the bars.

As they approached the base of the ram, Arthur saw that there was a rainbow umbrella sorcerer checking everyone off a list. But even worse than that, there was also a very haughty-looking seven-foot-tall Denizen dressed in an immaculate silver tailcoat, night-black breeches, and super-reflective boots. He had a dove-grey greatcoat of seven capes draped over his shoulders, and any raindrops that got within a few feet of this sizzled themselves out of existence.

It’s got to be Saturday’s Dusk,
thought Arthur.
He’ll spot me for sure ... and then there’s five thousand sorcerers here to finish me off.

Trying to act casual, Arthur raised his hand to his face and scratched his nose. With his mouth partially covered, he hissed, ‘Will!’

An albino cockroach with
Will
written on its back in red letters crawled up Arthur’s wrist and into the palm of his hand.

Think to me,
said the Will, silently.
You don’t need to talk.

Oh, yeah,
replied Arthur.
I forgot. That’s Saturday’s Dusk up ahead. I think I need you to distract him. Take the shape of a Raised Rat, maybe, and run away. Then you’d better go rescue Suzy, because I’m not going to get the chance—

You don’t know that,
the Will replied.
Also, I don’t think Saturday’s Dusk will know you. There’s too much sorcery around for him to sniff you out. That bronze thing there is reeking with it, not to mention the platform it’s on. They’ve got two hundred and fifty executive-level sorcerers preparing to lift that thing, you know. Just keep your head down.

I still want you to go and rescue Suzy!
Arthur insisted.
Go now, while there’s still a chance.

No,
said the Will into Arthur’s head.
My job is to find the Rightful Heir, and now that I have, I’m sticking with you. We might even get a chance at the Key. Anything can happen now, with the Piper’s Army below and Sunday’s insects above.

I want you to go and rescue Suzy! I order you to do so!

‘Name?’ asked the gold-umbrella sorcerer.

Arthur dropped his hand, and the Will ran up his sleeve.

‘Uh, Woxroth,’ muttered Arthur.

‘Last and least,’ said the sorcerer. ‘Get up the ladder and find your place.’

As Arthur scrambled up the ladder, the sorcerer turned to Saturday’s Dusk, who had fastened a monocle in his right eye and was staring at the paved floor.

‘Loading almost complete, sir.’

‘Not a moment too soon,’ replied Dusk. ‘The Piper’s forces have finished landing and are moving up. Well, they may have the Floor. They will not get far up the tower, and we will soon be in the Gardens.’

‘Are they as beautiful and wondrous as they say?’ asked the sorcerer as he started to climb, with Noon coming up after him. He was about fifteen feet behind Arthur, and the boy could hear every word.

‘We will soon see,’ said Dusk. ‘Time we began, I think.’

He held on to the ladder with one hand and cupped the other around his mouth, calling out to another gold-umbrella sorcerer who stood watching in the nearest corner cupola on the platform.

‘Take her up!’ shouted Dusk. ‘All the way to the top!’