Sir Thursday

Twenty-seven

HIGH ON THE battlements of the Star Fort, it was easier to see just how much trouble the Citadel and all those who sheltered behind its walls were in. There was a blackened, churned-up borderland that stretched for about three hundred yards beyond the western bastions. After that, there were numerous diagonal trenches dug in a complex pattern that ran for miles to the west and to the north and south. These trenches were heavily populated by New Nithlings and New Nithling siege equipment, including scaling ladders, bundles of fascines for filling trenches, battering rams, and many large mantlets that were like portable roofs they carried to protect themselves from arrows and musketry.

"So that's what seventy-five thousand New Nithlings look like," said Arthur. He tried to sound nonchalant, but there were so many of the enemy, and everything about their position looked so organised, from the trenches to the way that each unit was formed up within the earthworks, each with its own colourful banner above it, spread by the breeze and bravely lit by the afternoon sun.

"More like ninety thousand," said Dusk, looking at a strip of parchment in his hand. "The Borderers report another column has just arrived. There – you can see its dust in the distance."

Arthur looked where Marshal Dusk was pointing.

"How far away is that?"

"Four miles," said Dusk. "Off the fixed tiles. They'd normally be moved far away at sunset."

Arthur didn't say anything, but everyone glanced at the downward-lurching sun, and there was an unspoken note of regret that the mission to destroy the spike had failed.

"They're preparing for another assault," said a colonel at Dusk's side.

"That's unusual," said Dusk. "They've only just failed in their last attempt. Normally they wait a day or so, to really build up their numbers. I wonder why the hurry now?"

"They were close to taking the southwestern corner bastion," answered the colonel. "Perhaps they think a quick assault will finish that task."

"I had best go see to the defences, sir," said Dusk. "If I may suggest, sir, it would be wise to send Marshal Noon there too. He is a tremendous fighter and always greatly cheers the troops."

"We'll all go," said Arthur. He licked his lips, which had become suddenly dry.

Just the wind, Arthur thought.

"I'll go out with the truce flag," he said. "I don't suppose the Piper will be there … though I guess he can probably use the Improbable Stair too … so maybe he will be …"

Arthur paused for a moment, thinking before he continued.

"I'll ask for him. If he's not there and they're prepared to talk, it will win us some time. If he is, I'll try to drag things out as long as I can, to give Dame Primus time to get the reinforcements here."

I just pray she's not as slow and bureaucratic as she normally is, thought Arthur. He hoped this doubt did not show on his face.

"They may simply try to kill you," said Marshal Dusk. "The Key will protect you to some extent, but we do not know the extent of their Nothing-based sorcery or powers. And the Piper … I know little about him, but he was always rumoured to be a most powerful and unusual sorcerer himself."

"When did you last hear about him?" asked Arthur.

"We do not pay much attention to what goes on elsewhere in the House or the Secondary Realms," Dusk explained. "But of course new recruits bring rumours, and letters come from their civilian homes. Now that I think on it, I suppose I have not heard anything of the Piper's exploits for several hundred years at least."

"And now the Piper's back, apparently from Nothing, with an army of New Nithlings."

"With your permission, I will personally choose and lead your bodyguard," said Dusk.

Arthur shook his head and pointed down.

"I'll go alone. To the middle of the firewash-burned zone there, between those two bastions. You can cover me from there. If too many of them come for me, I'll back off. But I hope when they see the white flag, they'll send just one messenger. They are very military … I think they'll do the right thing."

"They are good soldiers," Dusk said slowly, as if it were hard for him to say this aloud. "Perhaps they will send a herald. But in case they do not … we have a troop of the Horde here, sir. So, again with your permission, I will have them stand ready near the southwest sally port. In the event a rescue is required."

"Sure," Arthur said. "But no one is to do anything unless I give a clear signal or I'm being literally dragged away or attacked. I don't want everything to go off the rails because someone shoots the herald or something."

He hesitated, then spoke again.

"You'd better assign soldiers to watch the Piper's children too. The Piper might be able to make them do things. I don't want any of them hurt or locked up or anything. They should be allowed to carry out their duties. Just have them watched, and if they do act strangely, they can be restrained. But not hurt, all right?"

"Yes, sir," said Dusk. "Here is Marshal Noon, with the truce flag."

Noon stomped grumpily out onto the battlements, a staff with a furled white flag in his hand.

"Thank you, Marshal." Arthur felt a bit guilty for sending the Marshal to get a white flag. It was because the Denizen had annoyed him, and he felt ill that he had behaved in such a way. His mother and father would be horrified at his misuse of power. If he wasn't careful, Arthur thought, he'd not only turn into a Denizen, he'd turn into one like Sir Thursday. "I should have sent a junior officer. I apologise."

"Yes, sir," said Noon stiffly. "Do you have further orders, sir?"

"I want you to take personal charge of the defence of the outer bastions," said Arthur. "I am going to try to get us time by talking, but it may not work, and the New Nithlings are apparently preparing to attack again."

Noon looked out over the crenellated wall and back again.

"Within the hour, I would say," he said. "At sundown."

"I suppose I should change into something more impressive," said Arthur. He looked down at his dusty cuirass and the torn and bedraggled uniform underneath it.

"You hold the Key, and Part Four of the Will of the Architect rides upon your arm," said the Will. "You need no adornment to proclaim your authority. Now, Lord Arthur, I think that you might find ten minutes to hold a court and try Sir Thursday –"

"Please stop going on about a trial or whatever for Thursday!" exclaimed Arthur. "I've got enough to worry about!"

"In my experience, if justice needs to be done, it should be done swiftly and visibly," protested the Will.

Arthur wasn't listening. One of the officers around him had idly picked up a lead bullet or a small stone and was throwing it over the wall. Something about its arc made him suddenly wonder if he'd thrown the Skinless Boy's pocket far enough to land in the Nothing. If it had fallen short, as now seemed all too likely, he would have to try to get that back from the Piper in order to destroy it.

"Sir Thursday will face trial," he said, trying to refocus. "He murdered Fineold and Jazebeth. But right now we haven't got time. Let's get down to the outer bastions. Marshal Noon, if you would lead the way?"

As with his journey into the Citadel, Arthur was led along, through, and past a bewildering arrangement of tunnels, gates, walkways, and guardhouses. But it was different this time. He was constantly saluted, and his arm grew weary from raising his baton in reply. The Marshals spoke to the soldiers, encouraging them, talking to them by name, congratulating them for their exploits so far in the siege. But Arthur couldn't do that. Every time he was about to say something morale-boosting, he found the words he was thinking of sounded insincere. So he remained silent, striding along amid the crowd of Marshals and other officers, but strangely alone, space always around him, no matter how confined they were.

He felt lonelier still as a small sally-port door was opened and a sergeant handed him the staff with the now unfurled white flag. It was huge, the size of a double-bed sheet, but Arthur found he could carry it like a pike, balanced on his shoulder.

"Good luck, sir," said the sergeant as he helped Arthur and the flag through the doorway to the blasted earth beyond.

"Good luck, sir," echoed Marshal Dusk and the dozen staff officers who seemed to do nothing but follow senior officers around.

Arthur stepped forward and raised the flag. The sally-port door shut behind him. He took another few steps and looked back up. The bastion's battlements were forty feet above, soldiers peering down through the embrasures at him.

Arthur turned to look at the enemy lines and walked forward, out into the middle of the firewash-blasted dead ground between the bastion and the forward trenches of the enemy.

"I hope this works," hissed the Will. "It is rather foolhardy of you, Lord Arthur. I suspect that the first three Parts of myself have not counselled you as well as they should have. I suppose they are out of balance, being only three parts of seven. With the addition of myself, we will be four, and the scales will be a little better adjusted."

"I want you to be quiet if we do get to have a meeting with the New Nithlings," said Arthur. "I don't want any interruptions. And don't attack anyone either. The last thing we need is a poisoned messenger."

"I can choose to be poisonous or not," said the Will. "As the case requires. I can even choose my poison."

"Well, don't poisonously bite anyone unless I ask you to," said Arthur forcefully. He looked up at his flag and saw that it was fully spread. There had been no olive branch available, but the white flag should be an unmistakable request for a truce and negotiation, Arthur thought.

He'd been a bit concerned that the firewashed area was going to be a gruesome repository of dead Nithlings, but there were no bodies or even any bloodstains. Just a fine, grey ash that lay inch-thick on the dirt, puffing up under Arthur's feet as he strode out towards the trenches.

When he judged he was halfway, Arthur found a patch of loose earth, probably from where a cannonball had struck early in the siege, and stuck the staff in the ground. Then he stood under the flag and waited.

He could see the front line of trenches very clearly, and the heads of the New Nithlings who were observing him just as closely. They did not use muskets or any other distance weapon as far as he knew, but even so his skin felt tense, as if there would suddenly be a shot, or an arrow would plunge down from the sky.

Nothing happened for a considerable time. The sun sank lower in the sky. Arthur even began to get bored, which surprised him. The New Nithlings continued to move about the trenches, carrying ladders and other gear, and pushing larger siege engines along farther back. But they did not move out of their trenches and come forward.

Arthur almost missed it when something began to happen. The pattern of Nithling movement changed and all handling of large equipment stopped. It also became much quieter.

A tall figure climbed out of the forward trench and walked towards Arthur. A Denizen-tall figure in a voluminous yellow greatcoat that hid his body, topped by that Napoleon hat and the steely mask. He had no obvious weapons, but the greatcoat could conceal almost anything, and of course, he probably had his pipe.

He walked up to within two yards of Arthur and stopped. Then he gave a sketchy half-salute. Arthur, without thinking, returned it with an instinctive, smartly snapped salute at full attention.

"You are courteous," said the Piper. His voice was light and somewhat strange, and it made Arthur feel like he was in a dream, not really understanding what was happening, but also feeling an overwhelming urge to agree with the Piper. He shook his head to clear it and gripped the Fourth Key more tightly.

"I see you are protected," said the Piper. His voice sounded the same, but it didn't have the same effect. "I suppose that is only to be expected."

"Why are you here?" Arthur asked gruffly. His own voice sounded like a crow's rasping caw after the Piper's melodious tones. "I mean, why are you attacking the Army?"

"Let us introduce ourselves first, surely," said the Piper. "Though I have now been told who you claim to be. I am called the Piper, and I am the son of the Architect and the Old One. I am the Rightful Heir to the House."