Drowned Wednesday

Twelve

LEAF WAS SITTING slumped in a narrow space, with an inch or so of water around her legs. A heavy chain joined the manacles on her wrists to the manacles on her ankles, then ran to a dark iron ring set into the wooden wall. From the way the water gently sloshed from side to side, she was clearly aboard a ship. The only light came from a swinging, smoke-grimed lantern that hung from a hook in the planked ceiling, barely a foot above Leaf's head.

Something moved in the darkness in the corner of the vision. Arthur shifted his head to try to see it, but that didn't work. The mirror was like a TV set or a stage. Anything that happened to either side or behind it was invisible.

The movement came again. Leaf raised her head and looked around. Seeing nothing, her head slumped forward. It looked like she was totally despondent, till Arthur noticed that she was doing something to the manacle on her left ankle. Trying to pick it, he guessed, catching a glimpse of a nail file or something similar.

Arthur was concentrating so hard on what Leaf was doing to the manacle that it took a moment for him to realise he'd seen movement again. This time, the movement ended within the mirror's frame and Arthur had a clear look at what it was.

A rat. But not just any old rat.

This was a four-foot-tall brown-haired rat that stood upright on its hind legs. It was also wearing clothes. It had on an old but well-kept swallow-tailed coat of dark blue with gold facings over a cream shirt and silver waistcoat, with white breeches that were rolled up to be out of the sloshing water. Its feet were bare and its pink, hairless tail flicked around behind.

The rat lifted its broad-brimmed but low-crowned hat of oiled leather and said in a voice that squeaked when it took in a breath, "Excuse me, Miss. Are you by any chance a mortal from Earth?"

Leaf started and scuttled back, her chains rattling.

"I beg your pardon," said the rat. "I didn't mean to startle you. I would not intrude, save that I have a commission regarding a mortal from Earth."

Leaf shook her head and blinked a few times.

"Sorry," she said. "I just kind of... wasn't expecting... a... a visitor."

"Allow me to introduce myself," said the rat. "I am Commodore Monckton, officer in charge of the Raised Rats of the Border Sea."

"Raised Rats?" asked Leaf weakly. "Border Sea?"

Commodore Monckton's whiskers twitched before he answered.

"The Raised Rats, young lady, are those rats that formerly served the Piper, and were brought by him to the House. The Border Sea is a demesne of the House, notionally ruled over by Lady Wednesday, self-styled Duchess of the Border Sea and Trustee of the Architect."

"Oh, I see," said Leaf sarcastically.

"I beg your pardon?"

Leaf shook her head again. "Never mind. Yes, I suppose I am a mortal from Earth. A pretty dumb mortal."

"Yet you speak."

"I mean dumb like stupid," said Leaf. "Anyway, what do you want with a mortal from Earth? Can you help me get out of here?"

Monckton took a paper out of his coat pocket and held it out to Leaf. It was Post-it note size when he handed it over, but as Leaf picked it up it grew to full letter size.

The paper showed an engraved portrait of a boy. It was quite a good likeness of Arthur. Underneath it were a few lines of type:

REWARD

Information as to the whereabouts of one

Arthur Penhaligon,

a mortal boy from Earth.

Send particulars by telegram or message to

Monday's Tierce, Suzy Turquoise Blue

"Arthur!" said Leaf. "And Suzy was the girl... the one with the wings."

"Ah," said Monckton. "You know Arthur? Do you know where he is?"

"I might," said Leaf. Arthur could tell she was thinking from the way her eyes had narrowed a bit. "I guess you want the reward?"

"Naturally," said Monckton. "Though in this case we have already been paid a small retainer. We are known to be expert searchers and finders."

"I'll tell you what I know if you help me escape," said Leaf, holding up her manacled wrists. "And help me get in touch with Suzy Blue."

"Hmmm," mused the Rat. "We can't help you escape, as that would be counter to several agreements we have with various authorities within the House. However, I would be honoured to act as your counsel in the forthcoming court of inquiry into your criminal activities."

"Criminal what? What! The only thing I've done is let them drag me onto this ship! They took one look at me, asked my name, and then threw me down here in chains!"

"I believe that you will be charged with being a stowaway," said Monckton, adding emphasis with a flick of his tail. "The penalty is likely to be one or two hundred lashes, which I suspect you would not survive. Or, to be quite frank, being mortal, you would definitely not survive."

"Lashes? You mean like whipping?"

"Indeed. With the cat-o"-nine-tails. Perhaps you've heard of it?"

"I don't want to hear about it! Or feel it either! This is crazy. There must be something I can do."

"It depends upon the court," said Monckton. "I suspect there is a logical flaw in the charge, which if correctly argued would result in you being spared punishment."

"What is it?"

Monckton inclined his head a little to the side and looked at Leaf with one bright eye.

"We are mercantile rats, Miss," he said. "That is to say, you tell me what you know about Arthur, and I shall act as your counsel at the court."

"How do I know that you'll do anything for me once I tell you about Arthur?" asked Leaf.

"I give you my word as a Raised Rat and former mortal inhabitant of Earth," said Monckton, placing one claw over his neatly waistcoated heart. "In the name of the Piper, who brought us here."

Leaf looked at the Rat carefully. He met her gaze and didn't blink.

"Okay," said Leaf. "I suppose I don't have much choice. You sound convincing, at least. Better than the guy who sold my dad his last car. I was visiting Arthur in his hospital room, back on our... back on Earth. Arthur had an invitation from Lady Wednesday, to have lunch, and he was telling me about the House and everything. Then a giant wave came through the hospital room and swept us out to sea, on Arthur's bed. We were getting washed up and down these really big waves when a ship with bright green sails picked me up with a rope, but they missed Arthur. I guess he's still floating on his hospital bed somewhere. If it hasn't sunk or been picked up by someone else. That good enough for you?"

"It is an excellent lead, thank you," said Monckton. "It also explains why the Captain and crew of this vessel have been so tediously closemouthed and have chosen to raft up here at the Triangle. Were it not for some of the regular rats, I would not even have known there was a mortal aboard. I suppose the Mantis was meant to pick up Arthur for Lady Wednesday, and having failed in their mission, Captain Swell is biding his time trying to work out what to do next. Besides get rid of you, the unfortunate evidence of having picked up the wrong mortal."

"Raft up? The Triangle? Where are we?"

"We are aboard the Flying Mantis on the orlop deck," said Monckton. "A ship of Wednesday's regular merchant marine. The Mantis is rafted up, which is to say moored to another ship, which is moored to another ship, and so on, all of them ultimately joined to a giant triangular mooring-post that is all that remains above sea level of the old Port Wednesday lighthouse. Hence, the Triangle. Which is, of course, in the Border Sea of the House."

"Which is the centre of the universe," said Leaf. "At least that's what Arthur said. My parents'd freak if they knew it was like this."

"I beg your pardon?"

"They think there's some big tree at the centre of the universe, with little branches going off everywhere. And animals living in harmony and being nice to each other and everything."

"It sounds rather pleasant," said Monckton. "If only it were so. Now, I must be getting back to my ship. I shall stop off on the way and inform Captain Swell that I shall be your counsel. I imagine the court will sit anytime within the next few days."

"The next few days!" exclaimed Leaf. "They haven't given me anything to eat or drink. I could starve or die of thirst!"

"Not in the House," said Monckton. "You may get hungry and thirsty, but you won't die from it."

"So you're just going to leave me here chained up? That's it? To wait for the court or whatever?"

"Yes," said Monckton. "You have it exactly. A pleasure doing business with you. Good-bye."

"Wait!" shrieked Leaf. But the Rat was gone. Arthur caught a flash of his tail as he left the mirror's field of view.

"Wait! You can't just leave me! What if the ship sinks —"

Leaf's shout was suddenly cut off and the mirror flickered between Leaf's situation and Arthur's face in the lantern light, before settling on the latter. Arthur felt a wave of nausea at the sudden change of perception, but that was banished in an instant as Sunscorch clapped him on the shoulder and whispered, "Arthur! Get ready, lad. There's something coming in from the sea!"

Arthur blinked, stood up, and hurriedly put the mirror and shell in the pockets of his dressing gown. That reminded him briefly that he really needed to change into something more sensible, the thought only lasting for a second before it was gone.

"What's coming in from the sea?"

"Dunno," replied Sunscorch. "Lizard saw a light far off. I've seen it too. It's getting closer. Could be the Shiver, though why they'd show a light I don't know. Here, take this knife."

Sunscorch had a cutlass at his belt, Arthur saw. He took the long knife the Denizen offered him, still in its sheath, and tried to fasten it to his dressing-gown belt. Sunscorch shook his head.

"That won't serve. Come on, back to the Captain's tent. Ichabod can find you some decent slops."

"Slops? I'm not hungry, particularly for something called —" "Slops is clothes. Come on. We haven't much time."

The camp was quite different now, Arthur saw as he followed Sunscorch over to Catapillow's tent. The Denizens were all up and getting ready for a fight. They appeared more confident and better organised than they'd been at sea.

"Landlubbers," whispered Sunscorch as they passed a group of Denizens checking over their crossbows. "They'll put up a better fight here than on any deck. Ichabod! Help Lord Arthur into some shipshape clothes!"

"Aye, aye!" called Ichabod. He came over and gave Arthur a very low bow. "Is there anything in particular milord requires?"

"Don't waste time!" instructed Sunscorch. "Give him whatever fits and be quick about it. I'm off to the guns. Arthur, join me there when you're ready."

Ichabod sniffed.

"Really, he has no idea the difficulties one has maintaining a proper standard of dress."

He looked Arthur up and down, walked around him, and wrote some figures down in a small notebook. Then he indicated the standing screen with the nautical pictures in the corner of the tent. Arthur had last seen it in Catapillow's impossible room aboard the Moth.

"If you would care to stand behind this screen, milord, I shall endeavour to present a number of articles of attire that may approach some level of suitability for one of your most eminent position."

Arthur went behind the screen. Almost immediately, Ichabod handed him a huge pile of clothes.

"Undergarments. Choice of three shirts. Collars, choice of four. Neckties, choice of six. Waistcoat, choice of three. Breeches, choice of three. Stockings, choice of five. Shoes or boots?"

"Uh, I don't need any. My slippers are Immaterial Boots."

"Sea-duty belt or ceremonial?"

"Sea duty, I think..."

Ichabod continued to ask questions, handing Arthur an item of clothing or equipment every few seconds. Finally he fell silent, and Arthur quickly got undressed and put on his new clothes. Surprisingly, everything fit him perfectly. Arthur hadn't deliberately chosen any particular combination, but when he was mostly dressed he found that he had on pretty much the same uniform as Catapillow. A blue coat over a white shirt and blue waistcoat with white breeches.

As Arthur had half-expected, as soon as he changed clothes his Immaterial Boots transformed from hospital slippers into knee-high boots, the left one wider in the leg to accommodate his crab-armour cast. Arthur thought for a moment, then slipped the Atlas and Wednesday's invitation down inside his right boot and the shell and mirror down the left boot. Immaterial Boots were proof against water, as they were to almost everything, and they would keep these articles safe and dry.

"I don't know what to do with this collar," Arthur said a few minutes later. The collar was separate from the shirt and he couldn't figure it out.

"Allow me," said Ichabod. He quickly stepped in and fastened Arthur's collar. Before the boy could protest, Ichabod had wrapped a red cloth around his neck and tied it as a necktie as well. "Arms up, sir, for the belt."

A broad leather belt seemed to be the last thing to put on, but when it was buckled up and Arthur tried to take a step out, Ichabod held up his hand and gave a slight bow. "Your sword, sir. One mustn't venture into a prospective battle without one's sword."

"I suppose, er, one mustn't," repeated Arthur.

I'm even starting to sound like Catapillow, he thought. I hope I don't turn into someone like him. I'd rather be like Sunscorch. Someone who gets things done.

Ichabod picked up a scabbarded sword from the floor and fastened it to Arthur's belt on his left hip. At the same time, Arthur tied the knife he'd been given by Sunscorch onto the other hip.

"This is a naval pattern sword, reduced in length and weight by the armourer specifically for your lordship," said Ichabod. He stood up and saw Sunscorch's knife, his mouth twisting a little in distaste. "If I may say, milord, the knife does little for the ensemble. Perhaps if you allow me —"

"I want to keep the knife," Arthur said quickly. "And I have to go and join Mister Sunscorch now. Thanks for your help, Ichabod. I don't know how you got the clothes my size so quickly."

"Oh, I cut them down from the Captain's and Mister Concort's best while you were off with Doctor Scamandros," said Ichabod proudly. "Then a few minor tweaks were all that was required, as I have a very good eye, even if I say so myself. “Always anticipate!” That's the motto of the true gentleman's gentleman!"

"Um, thanks," muttered Arthur. He hoped Catapillow and Concort wouldn't mind their best clothes getting cut down. "Thanks again."

"And should your lordship be wounded in the forthcoming action, be assured that I have applied my motto to my other profession," said Ichabod.

"What?"

"Surgeon's Mate," said Ichabod. "Or as the extremely vulgar call it, Loblolly Boy. I assist Doctor Scamandros. We have never had to operate upon a mortal, but I have all my equipment ready. Knives, saws, drills — all newly sharpened!"

"Great!" said Arthur, faking a cheerfulness he didn't feel. "Well done! Keep up the good work!"

He hurried away before Ichabod had a chance to show him any newly sharpened surgeon's tools. He was halfway through the camp to where the two cannons were pointing out to sea when he heard the sudden clang and clatter of the ship's bell, and Sunscorch's bellow.

"Stand to your guns! Make ready your crossbows! Cutlasses and boarding pikes to the tidemark!"