Drowned Wednesday (19 page)
‘Do you have a submarine or know where one is, and can I borrow it?’
‘A VALUABLE QUESTION, Lord Arthur,’ said Monckton. He hesitated, his whiskers shivering, then went on. ‘We do indeed have a submersible boat, a craft we keep secret. But I am afraid it is laid up underneath our dock at Port Wednesday, for lack of an essential component, which we have been waiting on for some time.’
‘What kind of component?’ asked Arthur. ‘And who’s making you wait? Uh, only answer if that doesn’t count as another question.’
‘That can be accounted as part of your second question, Arthur,’ replied Monckton. ‘The submersible boat was made for us in the Far Reaches, by Grim Tuesday’s minions. The component it lacks is, in fact, a canister of Accelerated Coal, which must be replaced every century or so. However, since the fall of Grim Tuesday, very few of our orders are coming through from the Far Reaches.’
‘Yeah, well, I’m sure Dame Primus is doing her best to sort everything out,’ said Arthur defensively. ‘Grim Tuesday was using way too much Nothing —’ ‘That was not a criticism, merely an observation,’ said Monckton. ‘We are aware that changes were necessary in the Far Reaches, and we have been advised that we will get a new fuel canister within the next thirty or forty years.’
‘Thirty or forty years! That’s hopeless,’ said Arthur. He thought for a moment, then said, ‘How about I get you a new fuel canister? Will you then let me use the submersible to get into Drowned Wednesday’s stomach?’
‘Will you allow me to confer with Lieutenant Longtayle for a moment?’ Monckton asked. ‘The submersible is very valuable, and it would not be easy for even it to survive a passage into the Leviathan’s interior — and out again.’
‘Sure, go ahead.’
Monckton and Longtayle retreated to the other side of the cabin to whisper, while Arthur studied the drawings and the map again. His head was full of rapid thoughts darting around and linking together to lead him into new ideas.
Okay, if I can get into Wednesday’s stomach and then into
Feverfew’s private worldlet, I still need to find the Will and
release it and get back out again. Presuming the place will be full
of pirates, it would be dumb to go in there by myself … This is
kind of like working out how to rob a bank or something …
I need to get a team together to help me …
There’re the Rats, of course, to run the submarine …
I wonder if the Rats can fight … I probably need some
Denizens who can fight the pirates, though we should try and
sneak in, but just in case … I wonder if Dawn would come
along … Then there is the sorcery angle, so if I could get Doctor
Scamandros to help out … and Sunscorch, he’d be a good
fighter, though the rest of the
Moth
’s crew wouldn’t be up to
much —
Monckton and Longtayle came back to the table and sat down. Arthur looked at them expectantly.
‘We have agreed,’ said Monckton. ‘You may have the use of the submersible
Rattus Balaena
and its crew if you can secure a new power canister for it. We will do our best to deliver you into the belly of the whale.’
‘Great!’ exclaimed Arthur. ‘And they’ll take me out again too, right? With the Will.’
‘Yes, if at all possible, the
Balaena
will stand by to take you off the worldlet again and return out to the Border Sea. But the crew will not be able to help you against Feverfew in the worldlet itself. That is too great a risk.’
‘What about taking on extra passengers, as well as me? I’ll need to get some help.’
‘There is limited space aboard the
Balaena.
It was built for us Rats, but there is room for you and perhaps another six normal-sized Denizens, if no one minds being a little cramped. There might be some bumped heads too.’
‘Great! I’d better write a message to Dame Primus to get that power canister delivered. Do you have someone in Port Wednesday with one of your bottles, so I can send it to them to pass on?’
‘Certainly,’ said Longtayle. He opened a drawer and offered Arthur a thick sheet of paper, a quill, a bottle of ink, and a small pot of sand. ‘We shall consider our next question while you write.’
Arthur dipped the quill in the bottle and wrote quickly. The smooth black ink ran a little too freely, causing blots and blotches along the way.
Dear Dame Primus,
I don’t know if you got my other letter. Anyway, I’m in the
Border Sea and I talked with Lady Wednesday and she explained
how she got turned into a whale by the other Trustees and how
she wants to release the Will and give the Key to me. But the Will
got stolen by a pirate called Feverfew who works for the Morrow
Days. I’ve done a deal with the Raised Rats and they’ve told me
that Feverfew’s secret harbour is inside her and they’ll let me use
their submarine to go there so I can try to get the Will and fix
everything up. Only the Rats need a power canister from the Far
Reaches for the submarine, so can you please hurry that up so
they get it straight away. I mean
really
straight away, not next
year or whatever. Immediately. Right now.
Also can you send Suzy to help me out? And if you can get
in touch with the Mariner, can you ask him to come and help me
out too?
Regards,
Arthur
P.S. Send a reply via the Rats at Port Wednesday and their
simultaneous bottles, so I get it quicker.
P.P.S. Can you check what’s happening back on my world?
I want to know what the Border Sea did to the hospital.
Thanks.
Arthur finished by spreading some sand over the paper to dry up the ink, as he’d seen done in the offices of the Lower House. He lifted the page to pour the sand back into the pot, then folded the paper, wrote Dame Primus’s name on it, and sealed it with his thumb. As before, his thumbprint shone and rippled like a rainbow and became a proper seal, showing Arthur’s laurel-wreathed profile.
‘If the power canister is delivered quickly, how long will it take before we can get going in the submarine?’ asked Arthur.
‘Well, the
Balaena
is at Port Wednesday, so we will have to get there first,’ said Longtayle. ‘Under full steam, that will be five days. The
Balaena
can be readied in that time, so we would be able to depart in her immediately.’
‘Five days!’ exclaimed Arthur. ‘I guess there’s no choice . . . I hope I still get back home just after I left, like I’ve done before. I suppose I might need the time to get in touch with the helpers I need. . .’
‘Our simultaneous bottles are at your service,’ said Longtayle. ‘I presume we can send the bill for their use to Dame Primus?’
‘Yes,’ said Arthur. ‘But no jacking up the price or anything — we’ll only pay the regular fee.’
‘That is understood. Are you ready for our second question?’
Arthur nodded.
‘What has the Will told you about the disappearance of the Architect?’
Arthur was surprised by the question, but tried not to show it. He wondered if he was supposed to be repeating what the Will told him. But a deal was a deal — and in this case, he didn’t think giving out the information would hurt. ‘I think it just said she went away,’ he told the Rats, ‘leaving the Will behind.’
‘Are you sure of the exact words?’
‘Pretty sure. Yeah, it was back when the Will was a frog in Suzy’s throat. It said something like “The Great Architect went away” or “The Architect then went away.”’
‘It never said that She was killed or slain by her own servants, the Morrow Days?’
Arthur dropped the cup he’d just picked up, the cranberry juice spreading like spilt blood towards the papers, till the liquid was hastily blotted up with a cloth by the Steward.
‘What?! No! The Will said something about choosing to go away or it was her own choice. It never said anything about her getting killed . . . Do you think the Morrow Days killed her? The Architect of everything? How would they do that?’
‘Some authorities claim She is dead, or returned to Nothing, which is the same thing,’ said Monckton. ‘We wanted to know what the Will had said to you, because the Will probably knows, and it would not lie to the Rightful Heir.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ said Arthur. ‘I reckon it would lie if it suited it. And the First Part of the Will used to say it didn’t know enough because it was only one-seventh of the whole Will. Though I have to say since it became Dame Primus it acts like it knows everything.’
‘You really think the Will might lie to you?’
Arthur thought for a moment. He couldn’t think of any time when the Will had told him an outright lie, but he still had the feeling that it would if it thought it might help its cause. It would certainly lie by omission, choosing not to tell him things if he didn’t ask for them.
‘Yes, I think it would, but only if it thought it needed to. You know, to make me do something the Rightful Heir should do.’
‘That is interesting. We had hoped to learn definitively what has happened to the Architect, but clearly that is not yet possible. Thank you, Arthur. Do you have your third question?’
‘I might save it for the time being, if that’s all right.’ Arthur didn’t want to waste his last question and he needed to think things through.
‘You may do so,’ said Monckton. ‘Of course that means we will also still have a question for you.’
‘That’s fine,’ Arthur agreed. He sat quietly for a moment, going over a rough plan in his head. ‘I want to send some other messages as well,’ he finally said. ‘Do you have a bottle on board the
Moth
? The salvage ship I was on.’
‘I don’t think so,’ replied Longtayle. He pulled out a small book from his pocket and started to flick through it. ‘I’ll check the list.’
‘Is there any other way to get a message to them?’
‘There are numerous ways,’ said Monckton. ‘But most rely on sorcery, and we do not practise House sorcery, save for navigation. If Wednesday’s Dawn is still here, she might send a message for you. She has many powers within the Border Sea.’
‘I’d like to talk to her,’ said Arthur. ‘But she told me she had urgent business to attend to.’
‘We don’t have a bottle or anyone on the
Moth
, but I’ll send someone to check if Wednesday’s Dawn is still over at the Triangle,’ said Longtayle. He opened the door and spoke quickly to the Rat who stood at attention there.
‘Sorcery . . .’ said Arthur. He suddenly remembered Scamandros had put something in his pocket. Arthur had meant to transfer it to his boot so it would be safe, but he’d forgotten. Was it still there? He reached into the deep pocket and for a moment thought it was gone. Then his fingers closed on something cool and metallic in the corner.
He realised then that Longtayle and Monckton were looking at him curiously, so he hastily pulled his hand out. The Rats were probably trustworthy, but they didn’t need to know everything, particularly if they were going to be trading information with him. Arthur needed to keep some secrets in reserve.
‘Would you care to be shown to your cabin?’ asked Longtayle. ‘It will take an hour or so to build up steam, then we will be on our way. Earlier, if the wind shifts and we can sail. The breeze is against us for Port Wednesday at the moment, but it may change.’
‘Thanks,’ said Arthur. He thought he could take a look at whatever Scamandros gave him in the cabin, and maybe use the shell and mirror to check out how Leaf was doing.
‘You shall have my cabin, which is opposite,’ said Longtayle as he opened the door and indicated another one across the passage. There was already a replacement sailor Rat on sentry outside, who stood aside and saluted. The Rats ran a much more disciplined ship than the
Moth
, Arthur noted.
Arthur bowed to the sentry, crossed the passage, and went into his cabin. It was smaller than the room he’d been in, no more than fifteen feet long and twelve feet wide, with a folded-up bunk on one bulkhead and a folded-down desk and chair on the wall.
Arthur sat down and pulled his boots off as part of the process of retrieving the Atlas, Wednesday’s invitation, the shell, and the mirror. He put all these things into his inside coat pockets, then took out the metal object Scamandros had given him.
It was egg-shaped and made of gold, and there was a small curved catch on the side. Arthur flicked this up and the egg opened. One side was a watch, with an ivory face and ornate numbers picked out in tiny emeralds. The two hands were made from some kind of faintly glowing blue metal. The other side had a miniature portrait of Doctor Scamandros. It was very lifelike. As Arthur looked at the painting, the tattoos on his face began to move, and the pale blue sky behind him changed to show a background of dark smoke and dimly lit figures that were either fighting or dancing. At the same time, the Doctor’s head turned away, as if he was looking behind him.
Arthur gasped, and Doctor Scamandros looked back. His wild eyes met Arthur’s.
‘Arthur!’ shrieked the tiny figure, barely audible over the sudden din of screams, shouts, explosions, and clashing metal that came through as well. ‘Help! Give me your hand!’
Without even thinking about it, Arthur touched the miniature with his finger. It was instantly seized and drawn in somewhere, along with Arthur’s other fingers and then his whole hand. He felt someone — or something — grip it fiercely. Panicked, Arthur pulled back as hard as he could.
It was like trying to pick up a very heavy weight — Arthur felt his elbow and shoulder joints stretch and almost crack. He leaned back and put his feet against the wall, pulling with all his strength. Then suddenly he was lying on his back and Doctor Scamandros was sprawled next to him on the floor.
‘Shut the watch!’ squealed Scamandros. ‘Shut the watch!’
Arthur leapt up. Just as he reached for the watch, he heard a strange zinging sound, and a long, oily flame shot out of the open watch and struck the iron ceiling, the flames burning off the paint and sending billows of choking smoke everywhere.