Sir Thursday

Twenty-five

ARTHUR GOT HIS legs wrapped around Sir Thursday's waist and his arms around his neck as he took his first step on the treacherous marble of the Improbable Stair itself. "Don't try anything!" warned Arthur. "If you do anything but move on the stair, I'll throw both of us off!"

Sir Thursday growled something, a sound so inarticulate and full of anger it might have been a beast's noise. But he kept plodding up the stair, carrying Arthur's weight as if the boy were no more than a light rucksack.

After twenty steps, the Trustee spoke again.

"You'll die for this. Mutiny is mutiny, no matter who commits it. You have sealed your own end, Lieutenant."

Arthur did not reply. He kept all his attention on Sir Thursday's movements, not his speech. The Trustee had his sword in his hand, and he could easily angle it back and slide it into Arthur without warning. Arthur knew he had to be ready to throw all his weight to one side, even if it ended up being a dead weight. At least Thursday would be thrown off the Stair, hopefully to somewhere horrible where it would not be easy to get back on again.

Justice will be served, said a voice in Arthur's head. The quiet, telepathic voice of the imprisoned Part Four of the Will. I nearly had him back there. You must make him angry again.

Make him angry? Arthur thought back. Are you as crazy as he is? I don't want to make him angry. I don't know how I'm going to survive as it is.

It is the only form of distraction that will work on Sir Thursday, replied the Will. Distract him, and I will free myself and deliver the Fourth Key to you, Lord Arthur. Then he may be brought to justice.

I'm not making him angry here, Arthur thought back at the Will.

He considered where the least worst place would be to make Sir Thursday angry for a moment. Then he spoke aloud.

"There must be a big briefing room at the Citadel. For the Marshals and so on, to keep up with what's going on. Particularly with the siege happening."

"There is my operations room," snarled Sir Thursday. "There is no siege. It is only an inconvenience."

"I want to come out in the operations room, then," said Arthur. "Take me there. Or I'll throw us both off."

"My revenge … will be all the … sweeter for your insults," said Sir Thursday. Arthur could hear him grinding his teeth between words. "It is merely delayed."

Arthur opened his mouth to answer, but he never had the chance, as unexpectedly, to him at least, they left the Stair and suddenly re-entered the House. Immediately Sir Thursday struck back with his free hand, his bony fist smashing Arthur off his back and onto the floor. Dazed, the boy struggled to his feet. Before he could do any more than stand up, Sir Thursday was bellowing orders and there were plenty of Denizens rushing about to follow them.

"Hold that traitor! All is revealed! The enemy is led by the Piper, and all Piper's children must be executed before they can conduct any traitorous activity. Marshal Dawn, see to it immediately!"

Arthur felt his arms pulled back behind him. He struggled to lift his chin, finally managing it with the unintended help of someone who jerked his head back so they could get an arm around his neck.

He was in a large, domed room full of officers. The three standing with Sir Thursday were the tallest and most splendid, so they had to be Marshals Dawn, Noon, and Dusk. All three sported black eyes, and Noon had a bandage around his right hand as well, which suggested that they had been in recent fighting or that they did not always see things Sir Thursday's way. Arthur thought the latter was more likely.

"We're not traitors!" Arthur croaked as he was hauled backwards towards a door. "Sir Thursday killed two of his own soldiers! He's not fit to command! I am an officer in the Glorious Army of the Architect too, and I demand to be –"

He got no further, as Sir Thursday crossed the room in a single leap and punched him in the stomach. It hurt worse than anything Arthur had ever felt, worse even than his broken leg. He couldn't breathe and for several seconds thought he never would breathe, ever again. It was more frightening even than an asthma attack, because his chest felt actually broken, not just tight.

But after ten or twelve awful seconds, he did get a breath, as Sir Thursday's attention was diverted by Marshal Dawn. Clad in the green of the Borderers, she stood out in a room dominated by scarlet headquarters uniforms, and also because unlike everyone else she strode towards Sir Thursday, rather than edging away from him.

"The lieutenant is correct. He has levelled a serious charge and it must be heard."

Sir Thursday's eyes narrowed to slits and he glided like a snake across the floor towards the Marshal.

"Must be heard? I have issued orders, have I not, Marshal Dawn? I want those Piper's children killed."

"Regulations state –"

Sir Thursday slapped her in the face. She rocked back but did not try to defend herself, merely spitting out a tooth. Then she started again.

"Regulations state that a court of enquiry –"

The next slap knocked her down and back onto her knees. But she stood up, and this time the other two Marshals marched forward to stand with her.

"Sir, this is neither the time nor the correct –" began Marshal Noon.

"Orders!" shrieked Sir Thursday. He turned and pointed at Arthur. "I am ordering my soldiers to kill all the Piper's children, starting with this one! Is there no one here who knows their duty?"

"Nobody move!" snapped Marshal Dusk, his voice cold and penetrating. "That is not a legal order. We are soldiers, not gallows-hands."

"You are nothing!" screamed Sir Thursday. "I demote you to nothing. I will carry out my orders myself."

He twirled, lifted his sword so that it pointed straight at Arthur's heart, and ran straight at the boy.

Arthur tried to throw himself forward to the ground, but he was held too fast. He could not avoid the thrust.

But the sword did not strike home. Sir Thursday had only taken a single step when the snake wound around the hilt suddenly uncoiled and reared back. It was made entirely of words, and one line that ran down its back suddenly shone silver. The letters grew to the full width of the reptile, spelling out a single phrase: Let the Will be done!

The snake's fangs gleamed in the silver light, and it struck before Thursday could take another step, its top jaw snapping down on the back of his hand, biting deep. Sir Thursday's hand jerked, lifting the sword so that the blade whistled well above Arthur's head, sliced the ear off the Denizen holding him, and then embedded itself in the wooden panelling of the wall.

Arthur heard the Denizen behind him scream and felt him let go. Sir Thursday was trying to rip the snake that was Part Four of the Will from his hand. The Marshals were drawing their swords. Everyone else was huddling back against the walls, some drawing weapons, but most just watching in stunned amazement and fear.

Arthur knew what to do. He spun around, reached up, and, exerting every last ounce of his strength, pulled the sword out of the wood. It clanged onto the ground, because it was too heavy for him to hold up. Arthur knelt beside it and gripped the hilt.

Then he spoke in the clearest voice he could muster.

"I, Arthur, Anointed Heir to the Kingdom, claim this Key and with it …" Sir Thursday howled in rage, plucked the snake from his hand, and threw it across the room. Then he snatched a sword from the nerveless hands of a staff major and, still howling like a beast, ran at Arthur.

His path and his swordplay were blocked by the Marshals. It took all three of them to do it, their blades clashing and weaving as they fought to hold off the ravening monster that Sir Thursday had become.

Arthur spoke faster and faster, his gaze on the lightning-fast interplay of swords.

"With it command of the Glorious Army of the Architect, and mastery of the Great Maze. I claim it by blood and bone and contest. Out of truth, in testament, and against all trouble!"

Something touched his leg and Arthur shrieked, rather spoiling the momentary silence that had fallen as he finished claiming the Key. He looked down and saw the snake spiralling up and around his leg.

The Marshals took advantage of Sir Thursday's momentary distraction, backing him into a corner, but he was neither disarmed nor defeated. It was all the three Marshals could do to keep him there and protect themselves from his lightning lunges and cuts. He might no longer have the Fourth Key, but he was still extremely dangerous.

"Point the Key at him and order him to stand to attention," hissed the Will. It had coiled most of its body around Arthur's upper arm and stretched up from there so its diamond-shaped head was unnervingly close to his ear.

"I don't want to use the Key," whispered Arthur.

"What!?" hissed the Will. "I know you're the Rightful Heir! I can tell!"

"Yes, I am," Arthur whispered back. "But … look, we'll talk about it later."

"So you have my Key," called out Sir Thursday. He lowered his sword, but the Marshals did not press home their attack. "However, it takes more than that to command my Army, particularly when the enemy is at the gates. I take it the enemy is still at the gates?"

"Yes, sir," said a colonel uncertainly. "But we are confident that when the tiles start to move again, the enemy will lose heart –" "The tiles will not move," said Sir Thursday. "Due to treachery, I failed. The spike was not destroyed."

His words were met by gasps, suppressed moans, and even one or two outright cries of despair. Several officers looked away; only a very few looked to Arthur. Their behaviour indicated that the situation was very bad, and now that Arthur thought to listen, he could distantly hear the sound of battle, though there was no cannon fire.

Which was either good or bad, depending on whether it was due to lack of Nothing-powder or because whatever attack was in progress wasn't that serious.

"I am Lord Arthur, the Rightful Heir of the Architect," Arthur announced. "I am assuming command. Marshals Dawn, Noon, and Dusk, I want you to disarm and arrest the Denizen formerly known as Sir Thursday."

"I command the Army by order of Lord Sunday, conveyed in writing by Superior Saturday," countered Sir Thursday. "Perhaps I was hasty in demanding the Piper's children be executed, but we are at war. Surely you all know that I am the only one who can lead us to victory over the New Nithlings. Arrest this Arthur, and in due course we can look into his claims and hold a proper court of enquiry."

"Use the Key!" hissed the Will.

"The Will of the Architect has chosen me," said Arthur desperately. He raised his arm to show the snake. "This is Part Four of Her Will."

He could feel the mood of the Denizens in the room changing. They would so easily fall back into the familiar pattern of obedience to Sir Thursday.

"What Will?" asked Sir Thursday. He took a step forward, and the three Marshals stepped back, their weapons lowered. "That is merely a sorcerous snake, a thing of the Upper House. An embellishment to the Key. Colonel Repton, you are close there. Arrest Lieutenant Green, as he actually is. You see that he cannot use the Key, don't you?"

"Use the Key!" hissed the Will again, desperation coming through in its soft serpent voice.