Keys To The Kingdom_ Sir Thursday Part 14

Even with the light, there was still nothing else to see.

Suzy looked up, down, and all around, hoping for some indication that ther e was somewhere or even some-thing...else in this strange absence.

Seeing nothing, Suzy experimentally flapped her wings. Again, she felt the sensation of movement, but without any way to get her bearings, she couldn' t be sure that anything was happening. For all she could tell, she might be stuck like a fly in jam, flapping her wings and getting nowhere.

Suzy shrugged, chose a direction at random, and started flapping her wings in earnest. A considerable time later perhaps hours Suzy started to w onder if she had managed to get herself seriously lost somewhere inside th e Front Door, or some area in between the House and the Door that wasn't N othing but wasn't much of anything else either.

She stopped flapping her wings. The sensation of movement remained, and Su zy thought about the situation. Just flapping about aimlessly had produced no results, so she had to do something else.

"Hey!" Suzy called out. Her voice sounded very loud in the quiet. "Lieuten ant Keeper! I'm lost in your stupid Door! Come and help!"

There was no answer. Suzy crossed her legs and took a cheese, mustard, and watercress sandwich out of her hat. Like the hat, the sandwich was rather s quashed, but Suzy ate it with gusto. She had rarely had access to any food at all as an Ink-Filler. Since becoming Monday's Tierce and gaining greater access to the larders of the Dayroom, she had rediscovered the enjoyment o f food, even though it was not a necessity for life.

"Miss Turquoise Blue."

Suzy jumped up and dropped her crust. Whirling around, she saw a tall, extr emely handsome Denizen in a high-collared dove-gray morning coat, his black trousers knife-edge-creased above shining top-boots. His top hat was so gl ossy it reflected the light from Suzy's wings like a mirror. He held a silv er-topped cane in his kid-gloved hand. His wings, furled behind him, were o f beaten silver.

"Who are you?" asked Suzy suspiciously.

"That would be asking," said the Denizen pleasantly. His tongue, Leaf noted, was an even brighter silver than his wings. "I'll trouble you to hand me ou r Spirit-eater's treasure. We can't have his work interrupted, can we?"

"Your Spirit-eater?" Suzy's eyes flickered from side to side, hoping to see where this Denizen had come from, or some other potential point of escape.

"Ours," said the Denizen. His voice was extremely musical and pleasant to listen to. "Come now. Give me the pocket, and I shall show you a point of egress from the Door."

Suzy blinked and found her hand reaching under her waistcoats.

"I'm not giving it over to you!" she said through gritted teeth.

"Yes, you are," instructed the Denizen. He yawned and patted his mouth with his left glove. "Hurry up."

"I'm not!" insisted Suzy, but to her horror, she found that she was taking out the container with its sc.r.a.p of precious material.

"Very good," said the Denizen approvingly. He reached out his hand to take t he box as Suzy stared at it and tried to will herself to move away, to withd raw her hand.

Just as his fingers were about to close on the box, the Denizen's wings sud denly exploded out behind him and he twisted up and away, snarling in rage.

Suzy fell back and somersaulted over twice before her own wings spread out and steadied her.

High above her, the silver-winged Denizen was in a furious duel with an ele ctric-blue-winged Denizen that Suzy did not at first recognize as the Lieut enant Keeper of the Front Door. His blue-fire sword was met by the silver f lash of the other Denizen's sword-cane, the two of them swooping, turning, and diving as they exchanged lunges and blows and blurringly fast parries a nd dodges.

Suzy watched openmouthed as the two combatants fought. They used their win gs as weapons as much as a means of movement, blocking swords, slicing wit h the tips, and delivering buffets that if they hit, sent the targeted Den izen somersaulting through s.p.a.ce. Sometimes the two were upside down relat ive to Suzy, or perpendicular, and she got quite dizzy trying to reorient herself before she gave up and just watched.

The swordplay was very fast and very dangerous. Many times one or the othe r only just managed to parry or weave aside or leap backwards as a thrust went home. Steel clashed on steel so quickly it sounded like a constant ja ngle of fallen coins. Suzy, who was being taught to fence by Monday's Noon , felt her eyebrows going up and down in constant surprise as she saw wing -a.s.sisted feats of sword-fighting that were in none of the manuals Noon ha d lent her.

Apart from watching, all Suzy could do was stuff the container with the po cket back into her waistcoat and stay out of the way. She contemplated try ing to intervene, but the two combatants moved too quickly and were so foc used on the fight that she concluded any move on her part would only put t he Lieutenant Keeper off.

Then, as the Lieutenant Keeper went on the defensive, continually retreatin g upward, Suzy wondered whether she should try to get away. But she still c ouldn't see anywhere to retreat to. Instead, she followed the combat, her w ings straining to keep up.

Suddenly the Lieutenant Keeper stopped retreating and flung himself forward . The other Denizen tried for a stop-thrust but missed, and the two closed, blades locking. The Lieutenant Keeper was the slighter and shorter of the two, but his wings must have been stronger, for he pushed his opponent back at least twenty feet. At the same time he shouted something, a word that S uzy couldn't understand but still felt through every bone in her body, like a ripple of ague.

With that word, a circle of white light appeared directly behind the silver -winged Denizen. He must have sensed it, for his wings thrashed even harder to keep his place but the Lieutenant Keeper was too strong for him.

"This does not end " shouted the Denizen as he fell back into the circle of light. It was a doorway out, Suzy saw, with a gold-paneled room on the o ther side and an elephant's-foot umbrella stand. Once the Denizen was throu gh, the circle closed like a bursting soap bubble. Again there was nothing but featureless s.p.a.ce all around.

"Cripes," said Suzy. "Who was that?"

"Superior Sat.u.r.day's Dusk," said the Lieutenant Keeper. "We are old adversari es, he and I. Not all the Days or their servants follow the compact of the Do or to the letter, and Sat.u.r.day's minions are the slipperiest of all."

The Lieutenant Keeper brushed back his long white hair with his fingers and wiped his face with the sleeve of his blue coat. He still looked harried; his waders were dripping with water and there were more dried blue bloodsta ins on his right sleeve. "Doubtless he will return soon, possibly with othe rs. I have closed many of the doors in the House, but this is of little ava il when Sat.u.r.day orders them open again and Sunday does not say yea or nay.

Where do you wish to go, Suzy?"

"The Lower Hou " Suzy started to say. Then she stopped.

"Can I go anywhere within the House?" she asked.

"The Front Door opens in all parts of the House, in various guises," the Li eutenant Keeper informed her. "Not all those doors are safe. Some are stuck , and some are locked, and some are lost, even from me. But I can show you a door to any of the demesnes, within certain bounds."

"Do you know where Arthur is now?" asked Suzy. She'd planned to take the p ocket back to Monday's Dayroom, but it would be better to get it straight to Arthur so he could destroy it without delay.

"I do not," said the Lieutenant Keeper. "Come, decide where you would go. My work is never done, and I cannot tarry."

"The Great Maze," said Suzy. "I want to go to the Great Maze."

"The only door I might open there is in the Citadel. That is where Sir Thurs day resides. Are you sure that is where you want to go?"

"Sure," said Suzy.

"There is great trouble in the Maze," warned the Lieutenant Keeper. He looke d directly at Suzy, his pale ice-blue eyes meeting hers. "It is possible tha t soon all doors to and from the Maze will be closed. Elevators too."

"Why?"

"Because a Nithling army stands on the brink of conquest there. If they defe at Sir Thursday's forces, then the Great Maze will be cut off in order to sa ve the rest of the House. So I ask again: Are you sure you want to go there?"

"I got to get this to Arthur," Suzy answered, patting the container under her waistcoats. "So I reckon I do have to go there. Besides, it can't be as bad as all that. I mean, Nithlings never get on with one another, do they?"

"These ones do," said the Lieutenant Keeper. "Here, as you insist, is the do or to the Great Maze and Sir Thursday's Citadel."

He gestured with his sword, and once again spoke a word that made Suzy's s tomach flip over and her ears ring. A circle of light formed, and through it she could see a wooden walkway along a stone wall. A Denizen in scarlet uniform was marching along the walkway with his back to her, a musket on his shoulder.

"Thanks!" said Suzy. She flapped her wings and was about to dive headfirst i nto the hole when she felt herself held back by her tip feathers.

"No wings in the Great Maze," said the Lieutenant Keeper. The wings detach ed themselves from Suzy, dropping into his hands. "They attract too much l ightning. Something to do with the tile changes."

"But I have to give them baaa "

Before Suzy could finish talking, the doorway moved toward her and she fell through, emerging into late-afternoon sunlight and a cool wind, high on the battlements of one of the bastions of the Star Fort, an inner defense of Sir Thursday's Citadel.

As Suzy clattered onto the walkway, the sentry suddenly stopped, stamped his feet, and did an about-turn. He took another two or three paces, staring ri ght at Suzy, before the sight of her percolated into his brain. He stopped a nd fumbled with his musket, eventually bringing it to bear as he stuttered o ut, "Halt! Who goes there! Call the guard! Alarm! Guard! Corporal!"

Chapter Twenty

The New Nithling patrol was easily evaded, the Not-Horses stretching their leg s to gallop without the burden of the double-ride sack. Arthur, experiencing t his for the first time, was at first terrified and then, after it became clear he wouldn't just fall off, exhilarated.

The Not-Horses had much greater stamina than earthly horses, but even they c ould not sustain a gallop for long. After the Nithling force was nothing but a distant speck on the horizon, beyond the low hills of the current tile, T roop Lieutenant Jarrow raised his hand. His Not-Horse slowed down to a cante r, then to a brief trot, and finally a walk, with Arthur's and Fred's mounts following their leader.

They continued at a walk for the rest of the day, with half an hour's rest at noon, amid the ruined city of the last tile they needed to cross. It wasn't much of a ruined city. There were only outlines of old buildings, one or two bricks high, and gra.s.sy barrows that might or might not contain interesting r emnants. Troop Lieutenant Jarrow explained that there had never actually been a city there. It was built as a ruin, when the Architect had made the Great Maze to be a training ground for the Army.

The officer also showed them how to recognize a tile border an important thing to know, because anyone within a few yards of a border at sundown ran the risk of having different portions of their body simultaneously transpo rted to different places.

Not all tile borders were marked in the same way, Jarrow explained, but mos t borders were obvious from a change in the color of the vegetation or the soil, showing up as a continuous line. The border from the jungle to the ru ined city, for example, was very clear, as every vine-hugged tree on the so uthern edge was almost yellow instead of a healthy green.

The border from the ruined city tile to the marsh was not as evident, since there was no clear line of color change or difference in vegetation. But Jar row pointed to a low cairn of white stones in the middle of an area where th e ground slowly changed from a short green gra.s.s to low shrubs that were alm ost blue. Significantly, the cairn was a semicircle, round on the northern s ide and sheer on the south. It had been built to show the southern border of that tile.

The marsh proper began soon after. Jarrow let the reins slack, and his Not-H orse picked a way through the spongy sedge and the tea-colored pools of wate r, the others following in single file.

In the middle of the tile, or near enough by Jarrow's estimation, they foun d an island of slightly drier, somewhat higher ground, and here they set up camp. Jarrow again kept watch as Arthur and Fred removed the Not-Horses' h arnesses, wire-brushed and oiled them, and polished their ruby eyes. Then t hey rubbed down their lightning-charged tulwars, sharpened them, and rubbed grease on their boots and their mail hauberks. All in all, this took till dusk.

Deep in the marsh, with the sun dipped below the horizon, they could only s ee one of the changed tiles around them. Looking to the east, where there h ad been nothing to see, there was now an imposing mountain, a dark silhouet te against the starry sky.

"We ride to the Citadel in the morning," said Jarrow. He'd used the last of t he sun to consult his almanac, choosing not to show a light after dark. "I'd like to ride now, and if we had different tiles we might have done it. But th ere's a mountain pa.s.s to go through now, and a forest, and the Eastern Water Defense."

"The what water defense?" asked Arthur.

"It's part of the Citadel and doesn't move. A dry lake that can be flooded by opening sluice gates from the subterranean springs below the Citadel hill. I t should still be dry, but"

Jarrow's voice trailed off. The three of them sat in the starlit darkness, li stening to the sounds of the swamp. Their Not-Horses stood quietly nearby, al so occasionally talking to one another in their soft, dry language that perha ps only the oldest of troop sergeants might understand.

"Should be dry, sir, but perhaps won't be?" asked Fred after a while, greatly daring.

"Yes, it may have been filled," said Jarrow. "While tectonic strategy has p roved masterful as always, there are so many New Nithlings around that some were bound to end up near the Citadel, and the different groups have been joining up on the plain below the hilla nuisance really. Not a siege, not by any means."

"What exactly is the Citadel, sir?" asked Arthur.

"It's a mighty fortress, Green. Four concentric rings of bastions, ravelins, and demi-lunes, all sited to support one another with cannon and musket, an d the approach ramps covered by firewash projectors. Then, within the third ring, there is the Inner Citadel, a Star Fort built upon a hill of hard ston e. The Inner Citadel has earthen ramparts seventy feet thick ab.u.t.ting walls forty feet high, and it is armed with sixteen royal cannon, thirty-two demicannon, and seventy-two small cannons the artillerists call sakers. Though t here has been a terrible shortage of powder for them, ever since Grim Tuesda y was deposed by this new Lord Arthur " Jarrow stopped talking as Arthur suddenly whimpered in pain and clapped his hands to his head. He felt as if a missile had struck the center of his br ain, exploding into a vast array of memories. Images, sounds, smells, and t houghts reverberated everywhere within his skull, so many that he momentari ly felt disoriented and sick. Every significant memory from the day he lost his yellow elephant to the approach of the three Bathroom Attendants was o verlaid all at once in a crazy mishmash of instant recollection.

The pain disappeared almost at once, and the memories slowly retreated dee per into his head, sorting themselves out as they went, though not in perf ect order. However, he did know who he was and what had happened, and that he was in great danger from Sir Thursday.

"Are you all right, Trooper?" asked Jarrow.

"Yes, sir," whispered Arthur.

"Memory pain," said Fred. "I punched myself in the mouth once because of i t. Got a fat lip. Did you remember anything useful, Ray?" "Maybe," said Arthur guardedly. He was in a tough position. He wanted to tel l Fred everything, but that would only put his friend at risk as well. "I've got a few more things to think through anyway."

"You two rest," said Jarrow. He stood up, loosened his tulwar in its scabbard , and began to pace quietly around their small island. "I'll keep watch."

"Don't you need some rest too, sir?" asked Fred.

"I have much to think about," said Jarrow. "And I do not need to rest yet. Piper's children need more sleep than drafted Denizens, and those Denizens need more sleep than regular soldiers like myself, who were made for the pr ofession of arms by the Architect. But even I need to sleep more than our r ed-eyed comrades here, who sleep only in their stables and then no more tha n once a seven-day. I will rouse you before the dawn, or if there is the su ggestion of trouble."

There was no alarm in the night, though Arthur woke several times, disturbe d either by some night noise or by a twinge of discomfort, born from sleepi ng on the ground with only a saddle for a pillow and a rough, felted blanke t for bedcovers.

Arthur was woken properly by Jarrow before any sun was visible but as the h igher stars began to fade. Without the need for breakfast, and being forgiv en shaving as they were in the field, the trio quickly saddled the Not-Hors es and went on their way, the two boys working hard to bear in silence the aches and pains that had come from the previous day's ride and their night on the ground.

Arthur did not spare too much attention to these pains, or to the swamp h e was traveling through. His mind was fully occupied thinking about what he was going to do, and what Sir Thursday might do to him. The Trustee ha d to know who Arthur was, because either Lieutenant Crosshaw or Sergeant Helve would surely have reported his presence. Or possibly Sir Thursday m ight have known all the time and had Arthur drafted on purpose, rather th an by bureaucratic accident.

But why would Sir Thursday summon all the Piper's children in the Army to t he Citadel if he only wanted to get Arthur? There had to be more to it, Art hur believed. There was also the question of what he was going to do if the opportunity presented itself for him to try to find the Will or get hold o f the Fourth Key. Should he take it and put himself at risk of retribution? Or should he be a good soldier and follow orders and not give Sir Thursday any excuse to put aside Army Regulations and do something horrible to him? If he just tried to be a good soldier, he might end up having to serve his hundred years, and he'd never get home Home. The Skinless Boy. Leaf. The -.

"The letter!" Arthur suddenly said aloud, slapping his head again. He'd ju st remembered the letter from Superior Sat.u.r.day, the one threatening his f amily. As Ray, without his proper memory, he'd dismissed it as a hoax. But now that he remembered everything, it brought home everything he had fear ed would happen with the Skinless Boy.

"We must be quiet from here," ordered Jarrow, wheeling his horse to addres s Arthur and Fred directly. "The pa.s.s ahead should be clear, but we cannot count on it. Close up on me and ready your swords. We will charge through if the way is blocked."

Arthur rode close enough to almost touch knees with the lieutenant, while F red did the same on the other side. If they had to charge, they would do so as a tight ma.s.s of Not-Horses, a wedge that should punch through any New N ithling ranks that stood against them.

As they advanced, Arthur looked around properly for the first time in at le ast ten minutes. They were leaving the swamp, heading west, and the tile ah ead was dominated by two rocky hills, with a shallow gorge between them tha t was perhaps half as high. The rough road they were on led into the gorge.

"Can't we go around?" he asked. He couldn't see anything too formidable to the north or south.

"There are mud pools to the north today," said Jarrow, tapping his Ephemeris . "And thistle-scrub south. Very slow for the Not-Horses. This way is somewh at steep, but the road is wide and good. Beyond the pa.s.s, there is gra.s.sland and a bucolic village. After that is the easternmost fixed tile, which is t he Eastern Water Defense. If we are not waylaid, and the water defenses are dry, we should be at the Citadel by late afternoon."

They were not waylaid, but well before they saw it, they knew the Eastern Wa ter Defense was not dry. It had been flooded, and some of its water was spil ling over into the adjacent tile, running down the main street of the bucoli c village, a lovely but uninhabited collection of narrow lanes and charming houses that surrounded a large village green bordered by several pubs, a bla cksmith's forge, four or five small shops, and an archery range.

"Was there ever anyone here, sir?" asked Arthur as the Not-Horses waded up t o their fetlocks in the water streaming down the main street, their noses he ld high to show their dislike for the stuff. "Not permanently," replied Jarrow. He spoke quickly, and his eyes were never still, darting this way and that as he looked all around. "But in the past , whenever this tile came close to the Citadel, the White Keep, Fort Transfo rmation, or one of the other fixed locations, the taverns would be manned an d a fair established for the day. We should be able to see the Citadel in a minute. Once we are past these buildings."

The road began to rise after the town, then leveled out again. There were sta nds of tall cypress at intervals along it, but the view was clear straight ah ead. As they reached the flat, Jarrow stopped and gazed out, shielding his ey es with his hand.

Arthur and Fred did not look so much as stare, their mouths open wide enou gh to catch any small insects that might have been about.

There was a broad, mile-wide lake ahead of them, stretching north and south onto other tiles andon out of sight. Its eastern sh.o.r.e lapped the edge of t he village tile, which was marked by a line of tall pines, many of them shor n of western branches.

Beyond the lake was a giant wedding cake of a fortress, spread over many mil es. The outer line of angled bastions which to Arthur looked like short, b road, triangle-shaped towers formed the bottom of the cake, then a hundred and fifty yards in and fifty feet higher there was the second line, and one hundred and fifty yards in from that and up fifty feet again was the third line. Beyond that line was a hill of stark white stone, and on the hill was a star-shaped fort, each of its six points a bastion that held half a dozen cannon and perhaps two hundred defenders. Right in the middle of the Star Fo rt was an ancient keep, a square stone tower a hundred and fifty feet high.

A huge cloud of green smoke hung above the outermost defense line to the southwest.

"Firewash smoke," said Jarrow grimly. "There must have been an a.s.sault s ometime this morning. But I heard no cannons we must be very low on Not hing-powder. We must go back to the village we will have to build a ra ft."

"Can't we signal the Citadel somehow?" suggested Arthur. "Sir?"

"I have no communication figures," said Jarrow. "None could be spared for m e. If we signal with smoke or mirror, the New Nithlings may see it and send a raiding party. They must be established in force on the western plains. I have never seen a firewash cloud as big as that one."

It was not as difficult to make a raft as Arthur had thought. They simply took a dozen barrels from the nearest pub, three of its doors, and a quant.i.ty of r ope, cordage, pitch, and nails from the blacksmith's, along with some of the t ools. Under Jarrow's direction, the barrels were lashed together, the doors na iled to the top, and the likely places for the barrels to leak smeared with pi tch.