“Suzy!”

Arthur took a step, ready to open the door, then stopped himself. It sounded like Suzy, but he couldn’t be sure. Even if it was her, she might have been sorcerously forced to obey the Piper and would treat Arthur as an enemy. jugguth had described New Nithling uniforms and one of the three outside must be one of the Piper’s soldiers.

There was a muffled exchange beyond the door, then another voice sounded through the mail slot.

“Ray ... I mean, Arthur ... it’s me, Fred. Can you let us in? It’s freezing out here.”

Fred and Suzy, thought Arthur. With a New Nithling soldier.

“Stand back!” Arthur called out. He waited till he heard footsteps crunching in the snow, then he gingerly crouched down a foot or so away from the mail slot and looked out ... hoping for the best and expecting the worst.
Chapter Eight

It was getting dark outside. The sun—or suns, since there might be more than one high above the clouds—was setting. In the twilight, made still darker by the steady fall of snow, Arthur studied the faces of the two Piper’s children and the male Denizen or New Nithling who stood between them.

The two children certainly looked like Suzy Turquoise Blue and Fred Initial Numbers Gold, but they were in the uniforms of the Piper’s army, and the soldier between them was definitely a New Nithling. He appeared to be a Denizen at first, but Arthur saw that he had seven fingers on each hand and the small dent in the middle of his forehead under the black fur hat was not a bruise but a third eye, a quarter the size of the other two.

Arthur looked out for ten long seconds, blinking his eyes against the cold wind that blew in through the slot. He didn’t know what to do, or think. He badly wanted to let Suzy and Fred in, but he couldn’t help remembering what Dame Primus had said: All the Piper’s children were suspect ... and he was alone.

Finally, he looked away. Staring at the ground, he spoke.

“I don’t think I can let you in. You’re in the Piper’s uniform, so you serve him now.”

“Not on purpose!” called out Suzy. “He made us wear the uniforms, but he never got around to ordering us to do anything else. It’s me, Suzy Turquoise Blue! I never do what I’m told anyway. I’m definitely not going to obey the Piper ... ah ... urg ...”

Arthur looked out again. Suzy was on her knees in the snow, struggling with a rope or something that was around her neck. Arthur couldn’t quite see it, but it was stran­gling her. Fred was trying to get his fingers under it without success, but the Nithling soldier was paying no attention, instead looking back out across the snowy plain.

“Of course she’ll obey!” shouted Fred. “We both will! We’ll follow orders! Nod your head, Suzy!”

Suzy nodded desperately. Fred let go of the noose or stranglecord, and the girl took a huge intake of breath and then burst into a paroxysm of coughing.

“What was that?” asked Arthur.

Fred pulled his collar down and took a few paces closer to the door. Arthur still couldn’t see clearly, but there was something around Fred’s neck. A thin line of writing—a tattoo perhaps.

“The Piper put a spell on us,” said Fred. “If we disobey a direct order, or talk about disobeying, it chokes us. But we were never ordered to attack you, Arthur, or anything like that. We got away first. Can we come in and get warm and talk?”

Arthur hesitated. He really wanted to have Fred and Suzy as friends again, and talk over everything. But he just couldn’t be sure they could be trusted.

“What about the New Nithling soldier?” he asked.

“Banneret Ugham?” croaked Suzy as she staggered to her feet and massaged her throat. “He says he’s only been ordered to look after us and so that’s what he’s going to do. You haven’t been ordered to attack Arthur or anything, have you, Uggie?”

“I have no present quarrel with Lord Arthur,” said Ugham. His voice was surprisingly high and rather flute­like, quite at odds with his size and fearsome appearance. In addition to his charged spear, he had a broad-bladed sword hanging from the left side of his belt and a knife with a bronze knuckle-duster hilt on the right. A big knuckle-duster, to cater for his seven fingers.

Arthur noted that Suzy and Fred also had knuckle-duster knives on their belts, smaller ones, scaled to fit their hands. So if they were enemies, he’d be facing three blades at the least.

“Indeed, it may be such that we face a common foe and should join hands with Lord Arthur against this enemy,” Ugham continued, pointing with his spear at a vast line of hundreds of Fetchers that had suddenly come into sight about a hundred yards away, a dark mass of Nithlings stark against the snow. They marched forward a few paces and then stopped and somewhere behind them came a dis­tant, disturbing shout from something that sounded neither human, Denizen, nor Fetcher—a kind of squealing shriek that was suddenly stifled, as if a muzzle had been applied. The sound of it made the Fetchers quiver in their ranks and sent a visible shiver through Fred and Suzy. Arthur felt it himself. There was just something wrong about it.

“I’m in favor,” croaked Suzy.

“Aye!” called out Fred.

Both of them came closer to the door and together said, “Arthur?”

I really hope this isn’t a trick, thought Arthur. I guess if I absolutely have to, I can use the Key ....

“Aye,” he said, and he lifted the beam and slid back the locking bolts.

All three were inside a minute later. Suzy clapped Arthur on the back, but Fred just nodded firmly, looking him in the eye, their gaze that of two soldiers who have met again in trying circumstances. Ugham bowed to Arthur, then immediately helped to re-bar and bolt the door, before crouching to keep watch through the mail slot.

“Thanks, Arthur. It’s good to get out of that snow,” said Suzy with a shiver. “Beats me why Fred’s lot like it so much here.”

“We don’t like the snow,” said Fred. “The weather’s been busted for years. Not to mention the diurnal cycle.”

“What’s that?” asked Suzy.

“The routine of day and night,” said Fred. “We had a year of night once, before someone got the sun up again.”

“It’s good to see you,” said Arthur gruffly. “I thought ... I thought I might not, after you were cap­tured.”

“Oh, well, we’re just like bad pennies,” said Suzy cheerfully. “Always turn up when least expected. Like those Fetchers outside. Whose are they, do you know? Can we go properly inside? Somewhere with a fire?”

She started to turn the handle of the inner door, but Arthur intervened.

“No, it’s too noisy in there. Let’s talk for a minute here, if the Fetchers aren’t advancing.”

“Methinks they wait for some commander or person­age of note,” said Ugham. “I have not bickered with

Fetchers afore now. I have heard word of them as minor servants, sent forth to seek and steal. They would be unworthy opponents for such as we, save they come in such numbers as valor could not withstand.”

“I wonder what they’re waiting for,” said Fred. “What was that horrible scream?”

“They’re probably waiting for Saturday’s Dusk or one of her other main servants,” Arthur ventured. “Though the Dusk I met in the Pit didn’t sound like that. We’d better not waste time .... What I want to know is how you got here. Why did the Piper send you two here ... and, er, Banneret Ugham, of course? What happened after you were captured?”

“Uh, the Piper didn’t send us,” said Fred, his forehead knotted into a frown. “It’s a bit of a long story. I suppose I’d better start at the beginning, though I’m a bit hazy about the start—everything went black for me when the Piper came up the ramp—”

“Me too,” interrupted Suzy. “I just conked out when I heard his pipe. Dunno what happened then.”

“You all went completely still,” said Arthur. “Like stat­ues. Sir Thursday went into the Improbable Stair and I went with him, but I threw the pocket in the Spike first, which was just as well, because it blew the Spike up or something so the Maze could move again.”

“We knew the Spike had gone, later on, because the New Nithlings told us,” said Fred. “That was when I woke up again, in their camp, with this thing on my throat.”

He pointed to the line around his neck. On closer examination, Arthur could see that it was a tattoo, or per­haps writing in some kind of indelible ink. Bending closer still, he could just make out the tiny letters and the words they made up. Like the letters in the Will, these ones also moved and shimmered and changed alphabets and were therefore even more difficult to read.

“‘I will serve ... and obey ... the Piper to my ... last breath,’” Arthur read.

“One of the Newniths ... what they call them­selves ... told me that’s what it said,” continued Fred. “They treated me ... all of us ... pretty well, though they made us wear these uniforms and they kept us locked up. Ugham was our guard. That was because the Piper had left for somewhere else and hadn’t given us any instruc­tions. I guess after about twelve hours, or more maybe, he came back and we were taken in to see him. He was furious about something, but was kind of weird about it. He kept breaking things and throwing his arms up and down but he was whispering, not shouting. It was really hard to hear him. That went on for a while, then this Denizen got dragged in by the guards. He said he had a message from Lady Friday about abdicating and leaving the Key—”

“Yeah, I got that message too,” Arthur chimed in.

“Then he tried to give the Piper this metal tablet, but the Piper made him drop it on the ground and told no one to touch it because it was probably a nefarious device. One of the Newniths opened up the package with a spear point and the Piper was talking about it when Suzy whis­pered to me—”

“I said, ‘I reckon that’s a Transfer Plate,’” said Suzy. “So I jumped for it and Fred jumped after me and Ugham tried to catch both of us and so we were all connected when I touched the plate ... and here we are. Is there a fire inside? Or some hot water? I think my fingers might be about to drop off.”

“Lady Friday’s messenger,” asked Arthur. “Did you hear him say that the Fifth Key has been left in Friday’s Scriptorium, for me or Saturday or the Piper?”

“Yes,” said Fred. Suzy nodded. Ugham turned back from the mail slot for a moment to also nod gravely.

“Part Five of the Will is somewhere here in the Middle House too,” continued Arthur. “At least Friday’s message said so. I suppose none of it may be true.”

“I reckon the Piper believed it,” said Suzy. “About the

Key anyway. Just before we jumped, he was whispering away with his generals about how to seize it first.”

“I guess Superior Saturday believes it’s here as well,” added Arthur. “Those Fetchers must be hers .... She controls the elevators; she can send anything down here. Which reminds me—I wonder where my look­outs are.”

He looked up at the ceiling in puzzlement, then shook his head.

“Uh, I forgot, they’ve probably gone to report in the main chamber. This door can lead into two places, depend­ing on which way you turn the handle.”

“Let’s go to the warm place, then,” said Suzy. “I won­der if they’ve got any tea.”

“What are the Fetchers doing?” asked Arthur.

“They stand in some disorder,” said Ugham. “But per­chance I spy some other ... yes ... a Superior Denizen alights from the cloud. His wings are silver.”

“Saturday’s Dusk, probably,” said Arthur. “That’s not good.”

“Old silver wings? The Lieutenant Keeper saw him off when I was in the Door,” said Suzy. “So you should have no trouble, Arthur, with the Key.”

“You know I don’t want to use the Key,” said Arthur sharply. “We’d better get inside and ask if there’s another way out.”

He turned the handle and opened the door—but instead of opening onto the main gold pool chamber it opened onto the gloomy interior of the tower.

“I must have done it wrong,” said Arthur. He shut the door, turned the handle the other way, and opened the door again, but once more there was only the tower inte­rior beyond.

“Were you expecting something else?” asked Suzy.

“Yes,” snapped Arthur. “The inner chamber! Elibazeth said they had other defenses. I guess this is one. I’ll ask my sentries.”

He started up the steps with Suzy and Fred following, but by the time they reached the first landing, he knew from the silence above that Jugguth and the other two Denizens had probably gone back inside the main cham­ber—and Elibazeth had then closed it off. Running up to the next two landings proved this to be the case. The tower was deserted and the only way out was back down and through the front door.

The only obvious way out, thought Arthur. But per­haps there is another exit after all ....

“What are the Fetchers doing?” he shouted downstairs, at the same time as he opened one of the shutters on the north side of the tower.

“They still stand like the cattle they are,” reported Ugham. “But the silver-wing’d Denizen comes forward, bearing aloft a white cloth. He seeks a parley, methinks. Doubtless he fears they have not the strength to carry the day against Lord Arthur’s Key.”

Arthur looked out the window, onto the groaning, ice-edged waterwheel, a huge and menacing machine made somehow scarier by the gathering darkness beyond. He watched it turn. If it was slow enough, he thought it would be possible to climb out onto one of the flat spokes and be carried and slide down to the ground, out of sight of the Fetchers on the southern and eastern side. Or he’d fall into the canal and drown or get frozen to death.