Superior Saturday (9 page)

The Raised Rat opened the door and pulled it open, revealing a vertical shaft about twelve feet square. In the middle of the shaft a heavy chain hung down. Each of its links was easily two feet tall and made from four-inch-thick dark iron. It wouldn’t have been out of place on a battleship, Arthur thought.

‘Got to start her up,’ said Dartbristle. He leaned precariously into the shaft and grabbed hold of the motionless chain, which was so heavy it barely rattled.

Arthur poked his head in and looked up and down. The chain extended in both directions as far as he could see into the smoke-shrouded shaft.

Dartbristle continued his instruction. ‘When she starts, you’d best jump and hold on quick, while she’s still slow. Then wait for me to give the word to jump off, and jump. If you wait too long, the chain’ll go over the wheel and take you back down again—or mash you up. Stand by the door ... ready?’

Arthur and Suzy stood shoulder to shoulder in the doorway. Dartbristle shifted his grip, then swung fully onto the chain. As it took his weight, it fell a few feet, causing a frightful screech and rattle. Then there was a click almost as loud as a gunshot, and the chain began to move upward, taking Dartbristle with it.

Suzy jumped before Arthur could even think of doing so. She landed well, and climbed up a few feet to settle below Dartbristle’s rear paws.

‘I like this!’ she exclaimed, and was gone, the chain already accelerating.

Arthur gulped, and leaped for the chain.

Arthur hit his snout on the chain, but got a good pawhold, gripping the link he held with remarkable strength. The chain was rising up at a speed that felt like forty or fifty miles an hour, the smoky air whistling past them fast enough to plaster Arthur’s long Rat ears against his head.

‘Uh-oh,’ said Suzy.

‘What?’ Arthur asked. He looked up. Suzy was only holding on with one paw while she wriggled her other paw in the air. ‘What are you doing?! Hold on with both hands ... paws ... whatever!’

‘That’s it!’ said Suzy. ‘I can’t. My paw is turning back into a hand and it’s not working properly!’

‘Hold on with your teeth!’ called Dartbristle. He demonstrated with his own front teeth, which were at least five inches long and rather impressive.

‘Can’t!’ said Suzy. ‘My mouth has gone weird and wobbly!’

She slithered down the chain toward Arthur. She looked half-Rat and half-human. He climbed up to her, and one human and one Raised Rat foot scraped his head before landing on his shoulders.

‘Almost there!’ called Dartbristle. ‘I’ll count. Jump on three—it doesn’t matter which direction.’

‘Can’t ... hold on!’

Suzy crashed into Arthur. He gripped the chain with his own huge front teeth and one paw and grabbed her with the other paw. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was holding on to, because her body was rippling and changing, parts of it Raised Rat and parts human. It looked very disturbing and very painful, and her sailor’s clothes were now nothing but rags, ripped and torn by the transformations.

‘One!’

Suzy slipped from Arthur’s grasp, but he swung his feet out and gripped her with his back paws, which in Rat shape were almost as dextrous as his front paws.

’Two!’

They shot out of the narrow shaft into a huge, dirty warehouse that was two-thirds full of the same kind of oil containers as the chamber below.

‘Three! Jump!’ shouted Dartbristle.

Arthur opened his mouth and pushed off from the chain, using all his strength so he took Suzy with him. The two of them landed on the edge of the shaft, and he had to scrabble and claw his way to safety, dragging Suzy with his back paws.

Above them, the chain continued up through a broad chimney to some other chamber, and Arthur caught a glimpse of the enormous, fast-spinning driving wheel that had pulled the chain.

‘I’m going to kick Scamandros in the shins when I see him next!’ growled Suzy. She stood up and then immediately fell down again as her lower half became human and her top half Raised Rat, so she was totally out of proportion and her centre of gravity was all wrong.

‘I’m sure it will wear off ... ugh ... soon,’ said Arthur. He had to pause mid-sentence as a wave of nausea ran through his body. His torso suddenly stretched up several feet, then snapped back again, and his paws turned to four sets of feet.

‘It’d better,’ said Suzy. ‘Thanks, Arthur.’

She crawled away from the shaft, and, after a moment’s thought, Arthur followed her. The rapid changes to his body might topple him in if he stayed too close to the edge.

‘I’ll scout out the lay of the land while you’re sorting yourselves out,’ said Dartbristle. ‘The grease monkeys—that’s what the Piper’s children here call themselves—have a depot across the way, and there’s a drain that connects us here. We can’t cross outside, because there’s a detachment of Sorcerous Supernumeraries watching the depot, but I’ll nip through, have a word with the grease monkeys, and pick you up some clothes.’

‘Don’t tell them our real names,’ said Arthur. He had an unbearably itchy nose, but he couldn’t control his arms enough to be able to scratch it. ‘Tell them ... uh ... tell them we’re Piper’s children discharged from the Army and we’ve just been washed between the ears and can’t remember our names or anything yet.’

‘Aye, aye,’ said Dartbristle. He went over to a nearby trapdoor and lifted it. As he did, the sound of rushing water—a great deal of rushing water—filled the warehouse.

‘Got to wait a few minutes,’ he said. ‘This is a flood channel—takes an overflow every now and again. Timing is everything, as they say.’

‘Quiet!’ Arthur suddenly ordered. He sat up as best he could with a rubbery neck and cocked his one Rat ear to listen. Amid the sound of the rushing water, he’d heard a distinctive call, and at the same time he’d felt a familiar twinge inside his head.

‘Arthur!’

It was the Will, calling his name. But the voice was distant and fleeting. Even with the others quiet, all he could hear now was running water, the jangle of the moving chain in the shaft, and the more distant thrum of the subterranean engines.

‘Did you hear that?’ he asked. ‘Someone calling my name?’

‘No,’ said Suzy. She looked herself again. Even the torn rags of her Rat breeches and shirt weren’t too out of

place on her, considering her normal choice in clothes. ‘Didn’t hear nuthin’.’

‘Nor I, I fear,’ added Dartbristle. ‘And with my ears, I have won many a Hearing Contest in the fleet.’

‘Never mind,’ said Arthur.

It must have been speaking in my head,
he thought.
Like the Carp did ... but from far away. Or perhaps the Will could only escape its bonds for a moment ...

The sound of the rushing water died away. Dartbristle waved his hat over his head and jumped down. Arthur and Suzy could hear the splash as he landed in the channel.

‘There’s a window up there,’ said Suzy, pointing to a large iron-barred window of dirty, rain-flecked glass that was set into the riveted iron walls about twelve feet up. ‘If I climb up those bottles, and stand on top of that big yellow one, I reckon I could see outside.’

The window let in a subdued greyish light. Looking at it, Arthur realised for the first time that he must have developed better night vision, because he could see quite clearly, even though the warehouse had only one dim lantern hanging from the high ceiling, and the six windows, all on the same wall, did not admit much extra light.

‘Suzy, how light is it in here?’ he asked.

‘In here? If it weren’t for the windows and that lantern, it’d be dark as a dog’s dinner, inside of a dog, and even with the windows and the lantern it’s not much better,’ answered Suzy, who was starting to climb from one bottleneck to another, stepping across an impromptu stairway to her chosen window. ‘But I reckon it is daytime outside, only it’s raining.’

‘What can you see?’ Arthur was now almost himself, apart from his hands, which were still paws and not under his control. They were twitching and wriggling in a very annoying way and he had already slapped himself in the face several times and would have suffered more if he hadn’t got control of his arms and neck and twisted away. His clothes were also reduced to shreds, which was probably just as well, as they would have been terribly restrictive now that he was back to his full height.

‘Rain,’ said Suzy. ‘And not much else. There’s a very tall building, with lots of green lights.’

’Ow!’ said Arthur as his paws turned into hands but kept twitching, smacking his fingers against the floor. ‘That’s enough! Stop!’

His hands tingled and stopped. Arthur flexed his fingers and gave a relieved sigh. He was himself again, and everything was under control.

Suzy climbed down and both of them went over to look through the trapdoor. There was a rusted iron ladder that led down to an arched passage lined with small red bricks. A thin trickle of water ran down the middle, but from the dampness of the walls it was evident that the water rose nearly as high as the trapdoor when it was in full spate, as it must have been just a few minutes before the Raised Rat went through.

Suzy immediately started to climb down the ladder, but Arthur pulled her back.

‘Hold on! Let’s wait for Dartbristle. We need proper clothes. Besides, there might be more water flooding through.’

‘I was just ’aving a look,’ grumbled Suzy.

‘How’s that cut?’ asked Arthur.

Suzy looked down and felt her chest through her ripped rags.

‘It’s gone!’ she exclaimed. ‘That was at least a four-day cut, that was!’

‘Healed in the transformation, I suppose,’ said Arthur.

‘Maybe I won’t kick old Doc after all,’ said Suzy cheerfully.

‘I’m glad you’re better.’ Arthur knelt down and peered into the flood channel. Though it wasn’t lit at all, he could see at least thirty or forty feet along it. That made him have a second thought about his eyes, and he sprang back up and looked carefully at Suzy. Her eyes looked the same as ever: dark brown, curious and sharp.

‘Suzy,’ he said. ‘My eyes haven’t stayed like a Raised Rat’s, have they?’

‘Nope. They’ve gone bright blue, but. Wot’s called cornflower blue in the inkworks. Only yours is kind of glowing. I reckon it’s to do with the Keys turning you into ... whatever it is they’re turning you into.’

‘A Denizen,’ said Arthur glumly.

‘Nah,’ said Suzy. ‘Not even a Superior Denizen looks like you do. When that Dartbristle gets back, we’d best smear some grease on your face so you’ll pass as one of us.’

I can’t even be mistaken for a Piper’s child anymore,
thought Arthur with unexpected sadness.

Suzy cocked her head, sensing his mood.

‘You’ll still be Arthur Penhaligon,’ she said. ‘Not the brightest, not the bravest, but up for anything. Least, that’s how I see you. Kind of like a little brother, only you’re taller than me now.’

She paused and frowned. ‘I think I had a little brother once. Don’t know whether it was here, or back home, or what ...’

She stopped talking, and their eyes met briefly. They both remembered the Improbable Stair and their visit to Suzy’s original home, back on Earth, back in time, a city in the grip of the bubonic plague. If Suzy had once had a brother, he’d likely died young and long ago, stricken by the disease.

That reminded Arthur of the plagues back home, the modern ones, and the hospital, and the Skinless Boy who had taken his place, and his brother calling about the nuclear strike on East Area Hospital. He felt a tide of anxiety rise up from somewhere in his stomach, almost choking him with responsibilities. He had to find the Will here, and defeat Saturday, and get back home in time to do something about the nuclear attack before it happened ...

‘It’s not a good idea to stop breathing,’ said Suzy, interrupting Arthur’s panic attack. She clapped him on the back and he took a sudden intake of breath.

‘I know,’ he said. ‘It’s just, it’s just—’

‘Ahoy there, children!’

Dartbristle climbed out of the flood channel, carrying a large cloth bag marked laundry. He tipped it up and emptied a pile of clothes and boots onto the floor.

‘Help yourself,’ he said. ‘Stuff should resize to fit, if it ain’t worn out. I picked up a few sets to be sure.’

The clothes were dirty off-white coveralls that had lots of pockets. Arthur picked up a set, hesitated a moment, then stripped off his rags and put on the coveralls as quickly as he could. The coveralls immediately resized themselves to fit, and several oil stains moved around as well to get better positions, some bickering before they established their pre-eminence.

‘Odd clothes,’ said Suzy doubtfully. She put on the coveralls, but tore a strip of blue cloth off her old rags and added it as a belt.

‘You’ll get utility belts at the depot,’ said Dartbristle.

‘I like a bit of colour,’ sniffed Suzy.

‘There’s boots there,’ Dartbristle pointed out. ‘You’ll need them for the climbing and jumping and whatnot.’

‘Climbing and jumping?’ asked Arthur. He sat down and pulled on a pair of the boots. They were made of soft leather and had strange soles that were covered in tiny tentacles like a sea anemone. They gripped Arthur’s finger when he touched them.

‘Everything up past the ground-floor level here is made up of desk units,’ said Dartbristle. ‘Open iron boxes with a lattice floor, stacked and slotted into a framework of guide rails, and moved up, down and across by shifter chains. The Piper’s children here are grease monkeys—they keep the chains oiled, free up obstructions, service the pneumatic message tubes and so on. Requires a lot of climbing, jumping and the like. If you’re going to be looking around the Upper House, you’ll need to fit in as grease monkeys.’

‘Who said we’d be looking around the Upper House?’ asked Arthur suspiciously.

Perhaps I should slay this Rat now,
came an unbidden thought.
He knows too much and I probably don’t need him ... Stop ... stop! I don’t want these thoughts ...

‘The message that came through advising me of your arrival,’ Dartbristle replied. ‘Said you’d be looking for something, and to offer you any reasonable assistance.’

‘Yes,’ said Arthur, keeping a tight lid on the nasty, selfish thoughts that were roiling in the depths of his head. ‘Thank you. We are looking for something. In fact—’

He took a breath and decided to go for it. He had to trust people, even if they happened to be Raised Rats. Or Denizens. Or Piper’s children.

‘I’m looking for Part Six of the Will of the Architect. It’s here somewhere. Trapped, or held prisoner. Have you heard anything about it?’

Dartbristle took off his hat and scratched his head. Then he took off his mask and scratched his nose. Then he put both back on and said, ‘No, I’m afraid not. The grease monkeys might—’

‘Maybe,’ said Arthur. ‘But I want to check them out first, so keep it secret for now. Remember, we’re newly returned from the Army and washed between the ears.’

‘Aye, I’ll remember,’ said Dartbristle. ‘We’re good with secrets, we Raised Rats. Are you ready to go?’