Lord Sunday Read online

  ‘We do not,’ said the Will with a look at Suzy. ‘But he gave me orders to prepare a force to assault the Upper House. If the Army has retreated to the Middle—’

  Dusk interrupted him.

  ‘Not “retreated”, please,’ he said. ‘We have merely taken up an alternate position, in preparation for further offensive action.’

  ‘If the Army and Dame Primus are in the Middle House, we must go there,’ said the Will. ‘But we cannot do so from this elevator.’

  ‘Indeed,’ said Dusk. ‘I am surprised you arrived in it. Doctor Scamandros judged that shaft to be too compromised by Nothing, or we would have used it ourselves.’

  ‘Trust you to call a rotten elevator,’ said Suzy to the Will. It clacked its beak at her and flew to Giac’s shoulder. He stiffened in alarm and looked away, as if he could ignore the presence of the sorcerous bird.

  Marshal Dusk took a silver pocket watch out of his sleeve and flipped it open.

  ‘Come! We have less than an hour. We must march to the next tile at once. It moves to the Citadel, and our last working elevator is at the Citadel.’

  ‘So the tiles are moving?’ asked Suzy. ‘They haven’t broken down?’

  ‘Some still move,’ replied Dusk. ‘We must hope the one we need will take us. If it doesn’t . . .’

  ‘If it doesn’t . . .’ prompted Suzy when Marshal Dusk did not finish.

  ‘We will be consumed by Nothing,’ concluded the Denizen.

  Ten

  LEAF WAS A step away from the Front Door, with her eyes averted, when the Reaper pushed her hard in the middle of her back. She stumbled forward, her arms outstretched to stop herself – and encountered no resistance. Instead, she went straight through the Door, and fell screaming into darkness.

  She was still screaming when the Reaper caught up with her, his scythe casting a bright greenish light around him. Only then did Leaf realise that she wasn’t actually falling, that her senses had betrayed her. She was more floating than anything else. But if she looked away from the Reaper, or shut her eyes, the sensation of falling returned.

  ‘Where are we?’ she asked.

  ‘Inside the Front Door,’ said the Reaper. ‘Where we should not linger. Climb upon my back, but do not essay any nonsense.’

  ‘Why should I trust you?’ said Leaf. She was already thinking about trying to strangle the Reaper or something like that, with the vague idea that if she could stall her eventual arrival wherever the Reaper wanted to take her, it would be a victory of sorts.

  ‘You had best obey. There are now many Nithlings within the Door,’ said the Reaper. ‘And I will need both hands to wield my scythe.’

  Leaf looked around. All she could see were the Reaper and herself within a globe of greenish light. All else was darkness.

  ‘I have little patience for those who choose to die,’ said the Reaper. ‘Climb on my back. Now!’

  Leaf looked around again. This time, she did see the hint of a shadow breaking the green light, a split-second warning before the sudden appearance of grasping legs that belonged to something that had the abdomen and legs of a spider, and the torso and head of a human. Before those spurred, hairy limbs could grasp her, Leaf dove for the Reaper’s feet, even as the Denizen swung his scythe and the Nithling was parted in two. The different sections still scrabbled after Leaf, till the Reaper kicked them away and they spiralled off into the dark.

  Leaf needed no more instruction. She climbed up the Reaper’s back like a monkey up a tree, and embraced his neck with shaking arms.

  ‘Hold tighter,’ said the Reaper. Once he was satisfied she had obeyed, he jumped, extending his scythe ahead of him. Its green light shone around them as they moved through this strange darkness that was neither water nor air.

  Like deep-sea creatures drawn to a glowing lure, the Nithlings came to the green light. The first one was a thing that was mostly a giant bird with a vicious beak and metallic feathers, though instead of talons it had vastly oversize human hands, each with eight fingers and no thumbs. It speared its beak at the Reaper, but he dove under it, sweeping up with his scythe, to burst through a sudden storm of blood and feathers and continue unslowed.

  The next attack came from a dozen small Nithlings that had the general shape of crabs, though each had a human face upon the back of its shell, faces that cried and squealed and called out as they scuttled in from all directions – above, behind, below. But again the scythe moved, and the Nithlings died, and the Reaper and his human burden moved on.

  After the crabs with the human faces, there was silence. Leaf could not tell how swiftly they were moving, for she had no point of reference, nor was there any air moving past her face. She had a moment of panic as she wondered if, in fact, there simply was no air, and went as far as to lift off her gas mask, but even with it off she couldn’t tell if she was actually breathing in anything or not. Still, she was alive, and if she couldn’t breathe inside the Front Door, she’d already be dead, so there was no point worrying about it – particularly when there were plenty of other things to worry about, like where the Reaper might be taking her, and for what reason. But even that paled into insignificance as Leaf suddenly saw that there was another glow up ahead, which looked like it was made by a whole lot of distant lights; these were not green, but a nasty black-tinted red, like the smoky flames from burning rubber.

  ‘Hold on with one arm, and hold out your hand,’ instructed the Reaper. He had not slowed at all, but was charging towards the red light. ‘You will also need to fight this time.’

  Leaf held out her hand, and her fingers closed around the hilt of a sword that appeared from nowhere. It was a short sword, with a slightly curved blade of blue steel that was broader near the tip than the hilt. Faint sparks ran along the blade. As Leaf raised the weapon, the sparks intensified, and she heard a fierce crackling noise, rather like the hoarse whispering of an angry crowd.

  ‘Strike at the glimmer in their chests,’ said the Reaper.

  Leaf didn’t know what he was talking about for a few seconds, till they got close enough for her to see what was making the red glow. Rather than coming from a fire or fires, the light was issuing from the chests of a hundred or more Nithlings who were arrayed ahead of them, both on the same plane and above and below. These Nithlings had rudimentary wings of leather that they were all flapping wildly, but more striking still was that, though they were basically humanoid, they appeared to have no heads.

  At least, they had no heads on their shoulders. Leaf saw that the red glow came from their eyes, which were in their chests and roughly level with their armpits, and that was where the rest of their heads were located as well. Horrible, malformed foreheads, noses, and chins jutted out from their naked torsos, lit by the glow of their red eyes.

  The Reaper seemed unperturbed by their numbers. Even as they flapped down, up, and across to the point of his impact, he continued at full speed. Though he had no wings, Leaf saw that the scythe itself drew him forward, as if he were a diver hanging on to a propeller unit.

  When they were only yards away, the Nithlings came to meet them, scores of them driving straight at their target from all angles. Leaf turned half around and swung about her with her sword, hacking and slicing in a desperate attempt to keep the Nithlings’ horrible hands from latching on to her and dragging her away. The Reaper’s scythe mowed all around them, and then Leaf was striking at air and the Nithlings fell behind, unable to keep up.

  Leaf watched the red points of light fade into the distance, but held her sword ready, her gaze darting around in an attempt to keep every direction covered. She also realised that she was holding on even tighter to the Reaper, and that if he had been human, she would have strangled him long since. But he made no complaint.

  Leaf started to ask the Reaper a question, but stopped when no sound came out of her mouth. She gulped and took a few deep breaths before trying again.

  ‘How . . . how long till we get out of here?’ she asked, pleased to hear only a sli
ght tremble in her voice.

  ‘That depends,’ said the Reaper, ‘upon our foes.’

  ‘Right.’ Leaf shifted her grip on the sword and looked around again. As before, everything was dark. There was no light, save that of the scythe.

  Then she saw something. A tiny, distant star, a pinprick of pure white light. They were heading straight towards it, and it was growing larger by the second.

  ‘Is that—’

  ‘It is the other side of the Door,’ said the Reaper, though in fact Leaf had been about to ask if it was another enemy. She felt a surge of relief. Somehow, even though she knew the Reaper was not her friend, she feared him less than whatever unknown Nithlings might appear.

  The relief was very short-lived, as the Reaper suddenly changed direction. At the same time, Leaf thought she heard the echo of a trumpet or another horn of some kind. Faint and distant, and so low that it might have just been some trick of her ears.

  ‘Where . . . where are we going?’ asked Leaf. Her voice was not as steady as she’d hoped.

  ‘To assist a companion,’ said the Reaper. His voice, as always, was entirely devoid of emotion.

  Leaf heard the trumpet call again, as they flew through the strange atmosphere of the Door. It grew louder as they travelled, indicating that the Reaper was heading directly for whatever was creating the sound. It had to be an alarm call of some kind, though as usual Leaf couldn’t see anything in the darkness. She kept looking, though, craning her neck as she tried to cover all possible directions where Nithlings might suddenly appear and attack.

  But no Nithlings did attack, and after a little while the trumpet fell silent. Leaf wondered how the Reaper knew where to go, for he kept up their speed and made small changes of direction from time to time, so he clearly had a specific destination in mind.

  Eventually, Leaf saw something ahead: a single Denizen who at first she thought was standing strangely, till the Reaper turned sideways and she reoriented her notion of what was up and what was down. The Denizen was lying – or floating – on his back. He was wearing a swallow-tailed coat that looked turquoise coloured in the green light, but Leaf knew it was actually blue, and that the single epaulet on the shoulder was gold. His right arm trailed down at his side, and his fingers barely held the hilt of a sword that had been fastened to his wrist. The braided cord was now loose, with one tassel falling down the blade and the other gone forever.

  Leaf knew this Denizen was the Lieutenant Keeper of the Front Door, and even though dull blue blood was seeping through his coat and breeches in a dozen places, he was not yet dead. As the Reaper stooped over him, he raised his head.

  ‘You come too late for the fight,’ he said weakly. ‘But I thank you.’

  ‘I have long thought it unwise you should fight alone in the Door,’ replied the Reaper. He transferred his scythe to his left hand and reached down to slide his right arm under the Lieutenant Keeper’s shoulder. ‘Come, I will bear you away. My Master shall make you anew.’

  ‘Nay,’ said the Lieutenant Keeper, shaking his head. ‘I must not leave my post, and their blades were Nothing-poisoned. I will soon pass a more mysterious door than this one.’

  Leaf, who was looking over the Reaper’s shoulder, wiped a tear from her eye. It was as much reaction to everything that had happened as it was sorrow at the death of a Denizen she didn’t even know.

  ‘Shed no tears, lass,’ said the Lieutenant Keeper. ‘In truth, I have long been weary of my unceasing work. But before I am released, perhaps you would take my sword.’

  ‘No!’ the Reaper shouted as the Lieutenant Keeper flicked the sword up to Leaf and fell back, slowly tumbling into a somersault, all strength and life gone, poured into his final act.

  Leaf dropped her short sword and caught the hilt of the Lieutenant Keeper’s weapon, as the Reaper shrugged her off his back and jumped away, twisting so that he had his scythe ready to strike against her.

  As Leaf’s fingers closed around the hilt, the golden braid fastened itself around her wrist. In that instant, she felt a new sense suddenly flower in her mind. She could feel the Front Door in all its vastness, could feel the thousands of entrances and exits, could almost taste the presence of intruders, sour and unwelcome . . . It was all too much, and she cried out and crouched down under the pressure of the sensory overload, not even noticing that her radiation suit was turning blue and softening, becoming a swallow-tailed coat just like the dead Lieutenant Keeper’s, while the bottom half became white breeches and the suit’s over-boots became black top boots, the toe caps shiny as a mirror.

  The Reaper raised his scythe, but did not strike. Instead he frowned, and used the scythe to rise some ten feet above Leaf. He was still in striking distance, but did not make any further moves until the girl slowly uncurled and stood up.

  ‘My Master will be displeased,’ said the Reaper.

  ‘What?’ asked Leaf. She was still trying to come to grips with her new ability to sense what was going on in the Door, and it was hard to listen or talk at the same time.

  ‘You are now the Lieutenant Keeper of the Front Door,’ said the Reaper. ‘As such, I cannot compel you to come with me. I could kill you, of course, but my instructions are otherwise.’

  ‘Whose instructions?’ asked Leaf.

  ‘Lord Sunday’s, of course,’ said the Reaper. ‘As I’m sure you guessed.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Leaf. ‘What does he want with me?’

  ‘I do not know,’ replied the Reaper. ‘My Master likes to gather all possible tools before embarking upon any work. In this case, he must forgo your possible use.’

  ‘What?’ asked Leaf again, more sharply. She looked to one side, feeling the approach of a large group of Nithlings. ‘There are Nithlings coming—’

  ‘That is not my concern,’ said the Reaper. ‘I will leave you now.’

  ‘But you can’t!’ said Leaf. There were lots of Nithlings inside the Door, and there were strange breaches where she knew there should only be closed portals into parts of the House or the Secondary Realms. ‘I need your help!’

  ‘I answered the Lieutenant Keeper’s call,’ said the Reaper. ‘A detour from my proper work that has cost me dear. Now I must report my failure.’

  ‘Wait a—’ Leaf began, but the Reaper raised his scythe and it lifted him away. A moment later, he was accelerating into the dark.

  ‘Farewell!’ cried the Reaper, and he was gone.

  Leaf hefted her sword, which shone with its own cold blue light, stark as a fluorescent tube, and looked to the direction from which the Nithling horde would come.

  Eleven

  THE DRAGONFLY SWOOPED down to the third terrace that was cut into the hill, about halfway up, and Arthur was dragged over rough green turf for twenty feet before the flying creature came to a stop and went into a steady hover. The rope ladder tumbled down, and the two tall green Denizens descended. They unhooked Arthur’s chains from the dragonfly’s tow rope and, as he had feared, dragged him over to the clock.

  Lord Sunday followed close behind, directing the power of the Seventh Key against Arthur while Arthur’s own Keys struggled to break out of the silver net. The force of Sunday’s power pushed Arthur’s head down and made him feel weak and unable to resist the two Denizens. One of them held him while the other fastened the chains to the tips of the clock hands. Arthur felt the chains grow shorter, like elastic returning to its normal length, and they dragged him across the clock face till he had to sit on the central pivot, next to the trapdoor.

  Arthur craned his neck to check the position of the hands. The hour hand was on the twelve, and the minute hand just past it. Then he looked at the trapdoor. It was shut, but he could hear a faint whirring noise behind it, and something like a low, unpleasant chuckle.

  ‘This is like the Old One’s clock prison,’ Arthur said to Lord Sunday, who stood by the number six, gazing down at his captive. He still held the Seventh Key close in his right hand and the silver net in his left. ‘Are there puppets within tha
t will take out my eyes?’

  ‘There are,’ confirmed Lord Sunday. ‘But you have almost twelve hours before they will emerge, and you will have a chance to be spared from their ministrations.’

  ‘How?’ asked Arthur.

  ‘You may surrender your Keys to me,’ said Lord Sunday. ‘And The Compleat Atlas of the House. If they are freely given, I will return you to your Earth.’

  ‘And my mother?’

  ‘Yes, she shall go with you.’

  ‘And you’ll leave us alone? I mean, leave the Earth alone? And you’ll stop the Nothing from destroying the House and the Secondary Realms?’

  ‘I do not interfere unnecessarily beyond these Gardens,’ said Lord Sunday. ‘It is unfortunate that events have so transpired that I must take a hand, to impose order where others have failed to do so.’

  ‘So you won’t promise to leave us alone,’ said Arthur. ‘Or anything else.’

  ‘You have heard my offer,’ Lord Sunday replied coldly. ‘You and your mother will return to your world, if you give me the Keys and the Atlas.’

  Arthur slowly shook his head. ‘No. I don’t trust you.’

  ‘Very well,’ said Lord Sunday. ‘Consider that allowing the puppets to take your eyes is only one of many things I can do to make you reconsider. While I will not stoop to menace mere mortals, I do hold your mother prisoner. Your friend Leaf has also been taken. If you wish to see either of them again, then you will give me the Keys and the Atlas.’

  Arthur shut his eyes for a moment. He was tempted by Lord Sunday’s offer, but not because he was afraid for his mother or Leaf, or of the puppets that would tear out his eyes, but simply because it would mean he could lay down the impossible burden he had been given. Everything would just go back to the way it was before.

  Except it’s too late for that, Arthur thought as he opened his eyes. I can’t trust Sunday to do the right thing, for the House or the Universe . . . or for me. I don’t even know what his plans really are, or why he has let Saturday destroy the House. There’s no way he could leave me alone, not now. I have come too far, and I have changed too much to go back. I have to see this through. I’ll use the medal to call the Mariner, and hope he gets here before the clock strikes twelve . . .