Tom began to bellow his spell (or poem or chant or whatever it was). Having an extremely loud, incomprehensible shout going on and on above his head was very distracting but Arthur forced himself to keep staring at the shiny spoon and his own curved face.

It got easier to look after the first minute. The other reflections drifted away, and Arthur lost all sense that there was anything or anyone else around him. There was only his shimmering reflection. He was alone in the universe, looking at himself, and that was all there was –

Tom finished the spell and wrapped his weather-beaten hand around the spoon.

Arthur blinked.

They were back in Tom’s room in the Treasure Tower. Arthur could hear distant bellowing and shouting. No words were distinguishable, it was all angry roaring, until a few distinct words came through, one voice cutting through the other. Arthur recognised the quieter voice as Soot’s.

The louder one’s shout was, ‘Captain! To me!’

Tom cursed.

‘I must obey!’ he explained. ‘Good fortune, Arthur. Here!’

He tore the gold coin from his right ear and flipped it to Arthur as he strode to the door, his ‘friend’ materialising in his hand on his second step.

Arthur caught the coin, sticky with Tom’s blood, and looked over to the table.

‘Thanks! But how do I send a –’

He was too late. Tom had gone, the door swinging shut behind him.

Suzy hurried over to the desk, while theWill climbed awkwardly into Tom’s chair and recommenced looking haughty and disapproving.

‘There’ll be a telegraph blank here somewhere,’ Suzy explained, quickly sorting through the papers. ‘You just write in the squares. Here!’

She took a quill and an ink bottle from deep inside her shirt, unscrewed the bottle, licked the point of the quill, and handed it to Arthur.

‘You write it,’ he said. He tried to hand the quill back. He’d never used anything but a ballpoint or felt-tip.

Suzy shook her head. ‘I’m still taking penmanship. Dame Primus says my letters are a disgrace. Particularly the esses. And the haitches.’

Arthur looked at the telegram blank. It was a simple printed form, headed THE ELEVATED AND WORSHIPFUL TELEGRAPHIC, TELEPHONIC, AND MESSAGE SERVICE OF THE HOUSE. Under that, there was TO and a line of seven word boxes, MESSAGE and five lines of seven boxes, and FROM with its line of seven boxes, plus a red-inked circle in the corner about the size of the blood-dappled gold coin Arthur held. There was also a very small box with the words REPLY PAID under the circle.

Dipping the quill in the turquoise-blue ink, Arthur somewhat blobbily wrote Dame Primus. He had to re-ink for the -mus, ignoring Suzy’s unspoken but evident scorn at his clumsiness with the quill.

He thought for a few seconds, then with several refills, numerous splotches and some scratching, wrote:

IN TREASURE TOWER GOT WILL IT WON’T RECOGNISE ME SAYS NEEDS OFFICIAL FORM SEND FORM OR HELP HELP!

He hesitated at the FROM boxes, then simply put Arthur and ticked the box next to REPLY PAID.

As soon as he’d ticked the box, the red-lined circle began to glow with a silver light, and the handwritten annotation 12R appeared.

‘Lob the coin down,’ Suzy instructed.

Arthur placed the gold coin on the circle. The whole form immediately vanished. In its place were four silver coins of varying sizes and designs.

‘Lucky you got the change,’ said Suzy, sweeping the coins off the table and into her pocket. ‘They embezzle it half the time.’

‘We’d better find that weirdway next door,’ said Arthur, suddenly conscious that he couldn’t hear any shouting outside.

‘Which side?’ asked Suzy.

‘Forgot to ask,’ Arthur shouted as he made his way to the door. ‘Come on! You too,Will.’

‘If you must call me anything, you may address me as Most Excellent Testamentary Clause,’ said the sun bear.

‘Claws?’ said Suzy, as she tilted the chair to speed the bear on its way. ‘Orright, Claws, hop to it.’

‘No, no, no,’ protested the sun bear. ‘Most Excellent . . .’

‘Claws it is,’ said Suzy loudly. ‘After you, Claws.’

‘I said . . . oh . . . just don’t speak to me,’ huffed the Will as it waddled after Arthur.

Out on the walkway, Arthur was already trying the door on the left. It opened easily enough, but the cell beyond was completely empty and quite dark, illuminated only by the spill of light from the walkway lanterns. Arthur dashed in, quickly scanned the room, and dashed out again.

‘The other one!’ he said. He tried to keep his voice down, but it still echoed.

The echo was answered by a shout from below. A harsh, powerful voice that was not Tom’s. It echoed up from a point not as far below as Arthur would have hoped. Perhaps only three or four levels down.

‘Captain! Did you hear that?’

‘What?’ came the reply from Tom, while Arthur and Suzy crept along to the next door, gently slid back the bolt and pushed open the door. There was a light inside this cell, and Arthur immediately felt more hopeful. They would find the weirdway quickly and get away, at least for the time being.

‘That was no Nithling! It must not have eaten the other intruders!’ the voice continued.

‘Let us deal with the Nithling, Lord Tuesday,’ said Tom. ‘It is strong, and grows stronger.We must find it first.’

‘Come here, Nithling!’ roared the voice, which Arthur now knew must belong to Grim Tuesday. ‘I do not have time to waste searching for miscreants!’

He growled out something else, then more clearly shouted, ‘By the power of the Second Key, all intruders stand before me!’

Arthur felt unseen hands tug at him, dragging him back towards the nearest steps down. Suzy also took several steps back, a look of surprise on her face. Only the Will appeared unaffected. It stood to Arthur’s left, watching him struggle as his Immaterial Boots slid backwards across the woven iron floor.

Arthur grimaced and threw himself forward. But he just fell face-first onto the cold iron and began to slide back, as if dragged by invisible captors. He tried hooking his fingers through the mesh of the walkway floor, but had to let go before they were broken or torn off.

Flailing wildly for some other handhold, Arthur touched the Will’s tail. As soon as he did, the dragging force disappeared. Arthur immediately gripped the tail hard.

‘How dare you!’ squealed the Will, its high-pitched voice echoing out into the central void.

Arthur didn’t reply. He reached out and grabbed Suzy’s hand as she was dragged past. She stopped too and started to crawl back.

‘Unhand my tail!’ squealed the Will. It turned on Arthur and tried to scratch him, but he kept his grip and jumped behind it.

‘I’m not letting go until we go through the weirdway in that cell,’ gasped Arthur as he jumped again, Suzy jumping with him. She managed to get a grip directly on theWill’s tail as well.

‘This is outrageous behaviour. I protest!’

‘Who is that?’ bellowed Grim Tuesday. His shout was followed by heavy footsteps ringing on the iron steps.

‘Hurry up!’ snapped Arthur to the Will. ‘You don’t want to meet Grim Tuesday either, do you?’

The bear turned again and sped into the cell far faster than Arthur had seen it move before. The two children barely hung on, both running hunched over and scraping the door frame.

Arthur kicked the door shut with his foot, jarring his bad leg. He could hear Grim Tuesday’s shouts reverberating outside as he hastily looked around the room. It was mostly empty, but there was an armchair sitting opposite two exquisite clocks on the wall: an ornate cuckoo clock made of finely sculpted gold, and a very simple, small ivory dial set in a walnut frame.

‘Let go, let go, let go!’ whined the Will. ‘I insist that you let go.’

Arthur looked at Suzy, then tentatively loosened his grip. When they weren’t struck by invisible forces, they both let go completely and stepped well back to get clear of theWill’s claws and to look at the two clocks.

‘If you’ve rumpled my fur, I shall send you the cleaning bill,’ said theWill as it curled around to inspect its tail.

Arthur ignored it. Instead he stretched up and touched the door of the cuckoo clock. It was solid gold, with an emerald-set door handle. Arthur opened it and was not surprised to find the door expanding as he pulled it, stretching down and across till there was no sign of the clock. Instead there was a normal-sized doorway in the wall, leading to a dark corridor whose walls, floor and ceiling rippled as if they were made of stretched cloth rather than the solid stone they otherwise appeared to be.

‘Come on!’ Arthur held the door open for Suzy. Strangely, it still felt as if he was reaching up to hold a tiny clock door. ‘Claws, come on!’

‘How many times must I repeat myself, you may address me as –’ the Will started to say. It made no move towards the weirdway.

Before he could finish, Arthur suddenly slapped his hand to his mouth and groaned, as the now-familiar ache struck. Tom had used his harpoon, a fact confirmed by a shriek of agony from Soot and another inarticulate bellow fromGrimTuesday. It sounded like they were all very close.

‘Go through!’ screamed Arthur in frustration as the Will turned around to inspect its tail again.

Then Grim Tuesday shouted again, from right outside the door.

‘Finish the Nithling, Captain! I’ll fix the other thieves!’

NINETEEN

GRIM TUESDAY’S SHOUT finally galvanised the Will into action. The sun bear shot into the weirdway and Arthur dived after it. He had a momentary glimpse of the cell door opening and the shadow of Grim Tuesday falling on the armchair. Then the cuckoo clock reassembled itself, closing the weirdway.

Arthur shivered. He did not want to meet Grim Tuesday without the Will’s help. He needed to be taught the spells or incantations he would need to wrest the Second Key from the unfaithful Trustee.

The Will had already caught up to Suzy. Arthur ran after them both, steadying himself with his hands as he wobbled from side to side. This weirdway was even more fluid underfoot than the one he’d used in the Lower House to get to Mister Monday.

It was a lot shorter too. Arthur came to the end and ran straight out without even realising that the darkness was the exit, not another turn. He stumbled against Suzy and the sun bear, then fell over a waist-high palm tree.

‘Tuesday’s in the cell,’ gasped Arthur as he pulled himself up on the palm, shredding most of its fronds. He could still see the weirdway exit, a strange inky doorway standing between two twelve-foot palm trees. ‘How do we shut the weirdway?’ he asked.

‘Blood ought to do it,’ said Suzy. She got out her knife and then, before Arthur could do anything, suddenly gripped his hand tight and stuck the point of the blade into his thumb. ‘A Day’s blood, that is. Yours. Sorry about that. Bung some in.’

Arthur flicked a few drops of blood at the dark doorway. Instead of going through, they splattered as if on glass. The weirdway gave a strange, cooing sigh that made Arthur step back as it closed in on itself, leaving only air between the palm trees.

Arthur looked around. The air was clean and bright, and they were surrounded by healthy-looking palms and carefully tended shrubs with pale pink trefoil flowers. For a moment he thought they were out of the Far Reaches altogether. Then he saw the wall of the Treasure Tower and the sparkle of the pyramid glass.

‘Yep,’ said Suzy, noting his look. ‘We’re in the garden around the Tower. Still inside the pyramid.’

‘We’d better find somewhere to hide,’ said Arthur. ‘What’s that?’

He pointed up at the pyramid wall. It was hard to see through the shining glass, but somewhere in the distance Arthur could just make out big red-bursting flares that had to be very bright to make it through the smog. They were exploding near the ceiling of the Far Reaches and then drifting back down.

‘Rockets,’ said Suzy. ‘Ooh, that was a good one!’

‘Why . . . who would be firing rockets?’ Arthur asked. He tilted his head to catch a distant, muffled noise. ‘I can hear bells too. Electric bells, like the elevator bells. Lots of them, all going off at once. Like the fire alarm at school . . .’

He looked at Suzy and said, ‘Those rockets are distress signals. The bells are alarms.’

‘Grim Tuesday’s problem,’ said Suzy, with a shrug. She started to push through a line of thick bushes to see if there was a good place to lurk.

‘It must be Nothing,’ said Arthur. ‘That’s what everyone’s afraid of.’

‘I’m not afraid of Nothing,’ said theWill. ‘Or anything else. Nothing cannot divert me from my duty.’

‘You should be afraid,’ Arthur warned. He was sick of this part of the Will. It was all bluster and wind. ‘Dame Primus was afraid of Nothing. I’m afraid of Nothing, like anyone with any sense. What if it all breaks out and destroys the foundations of the House and the whole . . . everything . . . the complete universe?’

‘The Architect’s work is far too superior for that to happen,’ said theWill smugly. ‘You need not worry on that score.’

‘You’ve been locked up for ten thousand years,’ Arthur pointed out angrily. ‘Grim Tuesday has dug a huge great Pit into the foundations here in the Far Reaches, right into Nothing. The Atlas says it is a great danger to the House – and I bet it knows more than you.’

‘The Atlas?’ asked the Will, sitting up and losing its supercilious look. ‘You have The Compleat Atlas of the House?’

‘Yes, I do.’ Arthur took it out and flashed it in front of the Will’s nose like a police badge, then thrust it back in his pocket. ‘Because whether I like it or not, I am the heir to this whole mess!’