The artillerists jerked fully upright to become frozen statues as the heavy door creaked fully open and a tall Denizen in a dark grey uniform with black epaulettes entered.

“Marshal Dusk!” Suzy called out.

“General Suzy Blue,” Dusk answered gravely. He paused to offer an elegant salute, which Suzy returned with less elegance but considerable gusto.

“Your arrival is unlooked for,” Dusk continued, with just the hint of a question. “As are your companions. Am I right in presuming that I address a Part of the Will?”

“You are,” said the raven, preening. It liked to be recognised.

“And one of Saturday’s sorcerers?”

“Oh no, sir,” said Giac. “Just a Sorcerous Supernumerary, as I was, sir. But now I serve Lord Arthur.”

“I am pleased to hear it,” said Dusk. “I am sure there is much more to hear, but there is very little time to hear it. We must all be on the adjacent tile before it moves at sundown.”

“Where are we going to go?” asked Suzy. She was familiar with the way the Great Maze was divided into thousands of mile-square tiles, that moved at the end of every day, often travelling great distances in a single minute. But she did not possess one of the almanacs that officers used to work out which tile to get on in order to move to their required destination.

She stepped out of the wreckage of the elevator as she spoke, and walked closer to Dusk, turning to one side for a moment so she could look out the narrow window in the thick stone wall.

“Too much of the Maze has been broken through by Nothing,” said Dusk. “We are evacuating to the Middle House. Most of the Army has already gone over the course of the day. I command a rearguard that has been destroying our siege train and larger guns, since we cannot take them with us, and there is the slight chance the Piper or some other enemy might swoop in and retrieve some for later use against us, before Nothing completely destroys the Maze.”

“That explains the explosion,” said the Will. It flew to the window and peered out with its sharp black eyes. “Perhaps you might tell me why you wear funereal armbands?”

“For Sir Thursday,” said Dusk after a moment’s hesitation. “He was our commander in chief for millennia after all, though he broke his trust to the Architect.”

“You mean he’s dead too?” asked Suzy.

“Yes,” said Dusk. “This morning, in his cell. The guards outside were also slain, and only Sir Thursday’s boots remained.”

“Sounds more like he escaped,” Suzy said.

“His feet were still in the boots,” said Dusk. “The rest of him had been dissolved by Nothing.”

Suzy raised an eyebrow and scratched her head. “So they’re all dead,” she said. “Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday…but who killed them?”

“What of Lady Friday?” asked the Will. “I understand she was also imprisoned in the Citadel?”

“She lives yet, for all I know,” said Dusk. “But she was taken with the advance party to the Middle House some hours ago.”

The Will mulled this over for a moment before cocking its head to ask, “And the other Parts of the Will? Where are they? Have they remade themselves as Dame Primus or are they still divided?”

“I believe they…ah…she…that is, Dame Primus has rejoined…herself…and is now at the Middle House, where she has established a command post,” said Dusk. “In preparation for Lord Arthur, of course. You do not happen to know where Lord Arthur is, by the by?”

“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. Dr 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.

CHAPTER 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 dived 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 dived 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 na**d 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 slight 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 epaulette 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.