Grim Tuesday

by Garth Nix

  TWENTY-TWO

  THE NITHLING FARED no better than the bricks, for the Key had continued to divert some small part of its power to fulfill Arthur’s spoken command. The boy felt a spray of something against the back of his neck, but it was not enough to distract him from his task.

  Other Nithlings landed and charged, only to meet the same fate. None could prevail against the power of the Second Key. Many realised it and, instead of attacking, they fled, hoping to find some way into other parts of the House or the Secondary Realms. Others climbed higher up the buttress as the new wall rose. They tried desperately to pull out just one more brick, to erode one more line of mortar. Many were caught, as reinforcing metal wove its way around and through them, and were drowned by the rising columns of Immaterial Concrete.

  Only one Nithling neither attacked, tried to pry a few bricks away, nor fled. A strange Nithling that watched Arthur from a place of concealment behind a many-holed boiler that had rolled down to its final resting place, here at the lowest part of the Pit.

  The lurker did not look like any normal Nithling. If seen from the left side, it looked just like a boy. In fact it looked just like Arthur in his school uniform. But from the right side, it was a skeleton, bare bones of red ochre bereft of skin. Front-on, it was a hideous split-faced thing, half smiling boy and half grinning skull.

  When it was clear that the buttress was going to be rebuilt and there was no chance of Nothing breaking through in the immediate future, the Skinless Boy laid himself down completely in the boiler and folded one fleshy hand and one bony one across his chest. He was in no hurry. The messenger who had come to watch his unusual birth had presented several interesting possibilities and opportunities, depending on what happened with the buttress. Arthur’s success had not been considered likely by the messenger, but he had prepared for it and told the Skinless Boy what to do.

  Arthur, unaware of his strange watcher, felt his fingers twitch. He looked up and saw his sunburst fading, but the concrete wall that he had made sparkled with starlight, and that was enough to see that it was complete. There was no sign of any leaking Nothing. No Nithlings. Only Yan, no longer propped up on one elbow, but sprawled in a heap.

  The Grotesque was still breathing, but only just. He opened one eye as Arthur slowly walked over to him.

  ‘No need to remake us now,’ he whispered. ‘Who’d have thought the Grim wrought us so badly? One sword-thrust to slay all seven . . . We did not want to be what we became, Arthur. Remember that.’

  His eye clouded over and his head fell back. As it touched the ground, Arthur saw the Grotesque’s face flicker and change, showing him the three handsome Denizens who had gone into the making of Grim Tuesday’s seven students. Then it was just Yan’s face again, cold and dead.

  Arthur looked away. Now he was truly alone, in the very depths of the Pit. The sunburst was just a faint spark above, the shadows creeping up the dam wall.

  He felt completely done in, too tired to do anything, even clean away the brick dust and the peculiar slime that coated his back and hair. His arms were sore too, as if he’d been carrying a heavy weight for a long time.

  Arthur let his weariness carry him to the ground. He sat down, then lay on his back and looked up into the gathering darkness.

  Light descended from above. A bell rang, and an elevator door opened.

  ‘Going up,’ said the disembodied voice. ‘Least, I hope we are. Last trip down here for this elevator. All aboard who’s coming aboard.’

  Arthur groaned and staggered to his feet.

  He hobbled over to the lift and got in.

  ‘This could be a bit tricky, sir,’ said the disembodied voice. ‘Taken some damage, this elevator. Not to mention that last passenger, with his emergency rise.’

  ‘Emergency rise?’ asked Arthur with a yawn. ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Well, strictly speaking, this elevator only goes up to the top floor of the Far Reaches. But that last passenger went right through to the Atrium of the Lower House. He had the paperwork, of course, but it does terrible wear and tear to an elevator.’

  ‘Who was he?’ asked Arthur sharply.

  ‘Dunno. Someone important,’ said the voice. ‘Him as went down before you.’

  The elevator lurched and shuddered as Arthur thought about a suitable reply to that. Instead he wedged himself in the corner as the lift gathered speed.

  ‘This could be a bit slow, sir,’ said the voice. ‘Would you care for some music? I can play the clarinet a bit. Something soft, you understand, nothing too strident . . .’

  The elevator did take a long time to get back up. Several hours at least, though Arthur lost track, as he fell asleep listening to odd, disconnected, half-familiar tunes played not very well on a clarinet of highly variable volume.

  He was rudely awakened by the lift’s bell, and a stop that was more like an impact with a solid object above them than a controlled halt.

  Arthur picked himself off the floor and staggered out of the elevator. He emerged blinking in the artificial sunlight to discover that the glass pyramid had entirely disappeared. The Treasure Tower had been partially white- washed, and the palm tree gardens turned into a large expanse of lawn. Forty large white bell tents – almost the size of circus big tops – were set up in a circle around the Tower, and there were long lines of former indentured workers waiting outside them, each line stretching off into the smog. As far as Arthur could tell from the tables outside the tents and the groups of teacup-toting Denizens that were milling around between the lines, the tents were there to serve afternoon tea.

  There was a reception committee waiting for Arthur, assembled in a semicircle around the elevator. Dame Primus was at the front, but there was also Monday’s Noon and at least a hundred armed Commissionaire Sergeants, Metal Commissionaires,Midnight Visitors and others.

  Suzy was sitting on the park bench, eating a particularly large chocolate éclair. She was once more dressed in her usual shambolic collection of clothes with her favourite squashed top hat. Arthur noticed she’d kept her Immaterial Boots, and the rolled-up bundle at her side must be her brightcoat.

  Suzy waved. Arthur waved back.

  Dame Primus seemed to think this was a more formal greeting to her. She saluted Arthur with the First Key, which was in its sword form. She was even taller than Arthur remembered, and imposingly dressed in some sort of uniform, all electric blue and gold lace, and a ridiculously tall fur hat like the British guardsmen wore outside Buckingham Palace. Her wings were not visible, but there was a kind of hint of them, a shining in the air above her tightly bound-back platinum hair.

  ‘Welcome, Arthur,’ she boomed, her voice deep and penetrating but not quite as gravelly as it sometimes got. ‘Well done. Very well done.’

  ‘I’m tired,’ Arthur burst out. ‘I want to go home. I want to have a long rest. I don’t want to be bothered again for at least six years like you promised!’

  ‘That is understood, Arthur. However –’ Dame Primus began. Something about her voice made Arthur look at her more closely and interrupt.

  ‘You’re both of them now! I mean you’re both parts of theWill!’

  ‘Yes,’ said Dame Primus. ‘We are one, as was always the intention of the Architect. It was the unfaithful Trustees who broke me apart.’

  ‘Speaking of breaking things, I need you to fix my leg,’ said Arthur. ‘I can’t go home like this.’

  ‘A hot towel, sir?’ asked Sneezer, appearing at Arthur’s elbow and making him jump. ‘You seem a little, ahem, disarrayed. Perhaps if I take your coat? And perhaps a cup of coffee? Or a ginger beer? And I’ll just nip that earring out.’

  Arthur didn’t even notice the earring’s removal. He took the towel and wiped his face. For some reason he couldn’t feel it, then he remembered the star-hood. He rolled that back, and Sneezer slipped off his brightcoat in one expert motion. When Arthur finally got it to his face, the hot towel was almost too hot, but it refreshed and woke him up a little. It also m
agically removed the soot, brick dust and slime from all parts of his body, even though he only wiped his face. He looked around and noticed that both Grim Tuesday and Tom were nowhere in sight.

  ‘Where is Grim Tuesday? And Tom?’

  ‘The Mariner has once again chosen to avoid responsibility in this House,’ sniffed Dame Primus. ‘He has left, probably to illegally enter the Secondary Realms. Naturally I have promulgated arrest orders for him should he return.’

  ‘But Tom helped me,’ Arthur protested. ‘You can’t arrest him. And what about Grim Tuesday?’

  ‘The Denizen formerly known as Grim Tuesday has been put to work,’ said Dame Primus. She pointed at the Treasure Tower. Arthur looked and saw a tall, bony figure in white overalls struggling with a huge tin of paint. An enormous paint roller, easily twenty feet wide, was propped up against the wall.

  ‘There are many tasks awaiting our Lowest Assistant,’ said Dame Primus. ‘The top level of the Far Reaches will be rehabilitated first, then the Pit must be filled in – which his former Overseers will be employed to do – and the spring re-established. Not to mention the original treasures he has stolen that must be returned to their proper places in the House or the Secondary Realms. There is a great deal of work to be done, Arthur. Work that would benefit greatly from the presence of the trueMaster of both the Lower House and the Far Reaches. So I am very pleased to return the First Key –’

  ‘No!’ shouted Arthur. He pushed Sneezer’s silver tray and proffered coffee cup aside and walked away. ‘Didn’t you listen to anything I said? I want to fix my leg and go home, and then I don’t want to be bothered again! Haven’t I done enough?’

  ‘You must control your temper,’ said Dame Primus. ‘It is not fitting for the Rightful Heir to have a temper tantrum in front of –’

  ‘I am not having a temper tantrum,’ Arthur said as coldly as he could manage. ‘I am letting you know that I want my leg fixed and then I am going home.’

  ‘That would be extremely unwise,’ replied the Will. ‘You can only return if you give up the Second Key, and if you do that, you will be unprotected. The danger is even greater than before. It is clear that the other Days are exploiting loopholes in their Agreement and actively working against you. Superior Saturday’s Dusk is believed to have been here, for example –’

  ‘I think I met him,’ said Arthur. ‘He killed Yan, and all the Grotesques died. With a single thrust. But I wounded him and he ran away. For some reason he wanted to –’

  ‘You see,’ interrupted theWill. ‘I even think that they might flout the Original Law and strike against you in the Secondary Realms.’

  ‘Well, you should try and stop them here,’ said Arthur. ‘I have to go home. I want my regular life back!’

  ‘That is not possible,’ sighed theWill. ‘However, if you insist on returning, then it shall be so. But you must appoint a Steward for the Second Key, as before.’

  ‘Okay, I appoint you,’ said Arthur. He stripped off the gauntlets that were the Second Key and handed them to Dame Primus.

  ‘This is most unorthodox,’ said Dame Primus. ‘But I suppose . . . repeat after me . . . “I, Arthur, Lord of the Far Reaches, Master of the Lower House, Wielder of the Second and First Keys to the Kingdom . . .”’

  Arthur gabbled the words. He had the curious sensation that if he could get away quickly enough then everything would be all right, that he wouldn’t be caught up in anything else.

  ‘I grant my faithful servant, the combined First and Second Parts of the Great Will of the Architect, all my powers, possessions, and appurtenances, to exercise on my behalf as Steward, until such time as I shall require them rendered unto me once more. There, finished!’

  Dame Primus took the gauntlets and carefully put them on. They shed a ruby light as her fingers went in, and rose petals fell from her palms.

  ‘A nice gesture,’ said Dame Primus approvingly.

  ‘Can you fix my leg now?’ asked Arthur anxiously. He pushed it forward so that its foreshortened length and twist were obvious.

  Dame Primus bent down to examine it. She frowned and held out her hand. A pair of pince-nez appeared, which she fixed to the bridge of her nose before looking again.

  ‘How did this happen?’

  ‘I broke my leg falling on the pyramid,’ said Arthur. ‘Then I fixed it with the power of the First Key, the power that was left in my hands.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Dame Primus. ‘Then there is a problem.’

  ‘A problem?’ whispered Arthur. ‘Can’t you fix it?’

  ‘I can use the First Key to reverse what you did. But then your leg will be broken, and as it will effectively have been broken by the Key, it cannot be mended by any magic that would not transform you completely.’

  ‘Transform me?’

  ‘Into a Denizen. You would no longer be mortal, which I gather you still wish to be. The Architect knows why!’

  Arthur thought about how much his leg had hurt when he’d hit the pyramid. He thought about his life. His regular life. He wanted it, every boring bit that he’d ever complained about. New school and all.

  ‘If that’s what it takes,’ he said slowly. ‘But I still want to go back. Only . . . if I can go straight back home, that would be good. I don’t want to be lying around with a broken leg in the street.’

  ‘I am sure that can be arranged,’ said Dame Primus. ‘There is now no reason not to use the Front Door. In fact, I shall make a point of using it, and at the same time post warnings with the Lieutenant Keeper that you are to be left alone.’

  ‘The Lieutenant Keeper . . .’ Arthur said, suddenly struck by a thought. ‘Does he come under the Lower House? I mean, he said something about there being no Captain Keeper for ten thousand years. Was that because of Monday not signing something? Why don’t we . . . you just promote him?’

  ‘The Captain and Lieutenant Keeper are appointed by all the Days,’ said Dame Primus. ‘The current Captain Keeper is merely missing, so cannot be replaced until his fate is determined, if it ever is.’

  ‘Oh,’ saidArthur. ‘I owe the Lieutenant Keeper a favour, so I thought maybe . . . also, there are a couple of Denizens who helpedme here. If you can, give themgood jobs.Anew indentured called Japeth, who used to be a Thesaurus.’

  ‘A Thesaurus is always useful,’ said Dame Primus. She nodded to Monday’s Noon, who bowed to Arthur and made a careful note in a little linen-bound notebook.

  ‘And a Supply Clerk called Mathias.’

  Arthur glanced over to the bench where Suzy was now attacking some sort of cream-filled pastry.

  ‘And Suzy, of course. I could never have done any of it without her. Maybe you could give her a holiday or something like that?’

  ‘Suzy is always taking holidays,’ replied Dame Primus. ‘Whether she should be having them or not. But some reward can doubtless be discovered through negotiation.’

  ‘And Tom,’ added Arthur. ‘The Captain. Please don’t have him arrested.’

  ‘Very difficult character to arrest,’ muttered Noon. ‘Shouldn’t like to try it myself. Amazed Grim Tuesday managed to capture him.’

  Dame Primus gave Noon a quelling glance.

  ‘Since you ask, Arthur, we shall not bother the Mariner unless he bothers us or comes to our attention in such a way that we cannot ignore his transgressions.’

  ‘I think that’s everyone,’ said Arthur. ‘Let’s get on with it. How do we get to the Front Door?’

  ‘Transfer Plate,’ said Dame Primus. ‘To Doorstop Hill in the Lower House. Now, where have they got to? Sneezer!’

  Arthur started again as Sneezer stepped out from behind him.

  How had he got there without me noticing again?

  ‘I have two Transfer Plates, ma’am,’ said Sneezer, placing two quite ordinary-looking yellow-and-white china plates on the grass. ‘The Combe pattern. Miss Blue has the third plate for her cakes.’

  Suzy was already hurrying over, stuffing a cake in her mouth while she wiped the crumbs of
f the plate she was carrying. She put it down next to the others.

  ‘Where are we going?’ she asked cheerfully, with her mouth full.

  Dame Primus grimaced and looked away.

  ‘Doorstop Hill,’ she said. ‘Arthur is going home. You simply step on the plate, Arthur. Not too briskly. With Grim Tuesday deposed, all lines of communication – and credit, I am pleased to say – are open once more between here and the other regions of the House. Noon, you are in charge here until I return.’

  With that, she stepped on the plate in front of her and vanished.

  Arthur was about to step onto his plate when Suzy fell against him and gripped his elbow.

  ‘Oops!’ she said loudly, but at the same time she slipped something in his hand and whispered in his ear, spraying his neck with crumbs.

  ‘Captain told me to give you this. Don’t let the old madam see it.’

  She pushed herself upright and stepped on her plate. Arthur was tempted to open his hand and see what he’d been given, but Noon was watching, so he stepped on his plate too.

  And took another step onto the grassy slope of Doorstop Hill.

  The Lieutenant Keeper was waiting by the Front Door. A huge door of dark wood that stood between white stone gateposts on top of the green hill that overlooked the Lower Atrium. Arthur glanced up at the glowing ceiling and the many beams of light that shot back and forth between the ceiling and the town below. He knew better than to look at the Door directly. You could see too much in the Door and easily go mad.

  ‘I greet you, Arthur Penhaligon,’ said the Lieutenant Keeper as he saluted. Arthur waved back and, on the return motion, slipped whatever Suzy had given him into his shirt pocket next to the Atlas. It was small and flat, so it fit easily.

  ‘Are you ready, Arthur?’ asked Dame Primus. ‘The Lieutenant Keeper will carry you through when I am done.’

  ‘Almost ready,’ said Arthur. He stripped off the pyjama-like shirt and trousers, but put his Immaterial Boots back on. They looked like sneakers anyway. Now that the moment had arrived, he couldn’t help putting it off just a little. And it wasn’t just because his leg was going to be broken. He turned to Suzy and held out his hand.