Drowned Wednesday(28)
‘I’m the only one with the Red Hand,’ said Arthur. ‘Aren’t I?’
‘Yes,’ said Doctor Scamandros. ‘Though Feverfew would kill or enslave anyone sailing with you, or giving you aid.’
‘You’re a sorcerer — can’t you get rid of it?’
‘No. It is beyond my power. Feverfew is an expert in magics I do not wish to know.’
Arthur looked down at the treasure, then at his red hands.
‘So you’re all at risk from Feverfew while I’m around?’
‘Indeed. Though, in truth, Feverfew kills or enslaves everyone he encounters anyway. But the Red Hand marks you for a particularly long and unpleasant ending, and we would probably share in it.’
‘Can you send messages to other parts of the House? And can you find out what’s happening to someone if they’re in the House? I mean, by sorcery.’
‘Yes, on both counts.’
‘In that case,’ said Arthur, turning back to Captain Catapillow, ‘I am prepared to offer you, and the crew of the Moth, all of my share of the reward in return for some help. I want to get a message to Dame Primus . . .’
Captain Catapillow nodded his agreement.
‘I need to find out what’s happened to my friend Leaf, who I think is aboard a ship with glowing green sails . . .’
Once again Catapillow nodded, this time with a smile.
Arthur paused, thinking about what he might need.
‘And I might . . . I might want passage as quickly as possible to wherever I can meet Drowned Wednesday.’
‘What!’ shrieked Catapillow. ‘Are you totally mad?’
Ten
‘TAKE YOU TO DROWNED WEDNESDAY!’ repeated Catapillow. ‘Do you think us fools?’
‘Uh, no,’ said Arthur. ‘I only said I might want to go and see her. I’m not sure where I should go next. But I have been invited to have lunch with Lady Wednesday —’
‘You mean to be lunch!’ scoffed Concort. He paled and added, ‘Excuse me! I didn’t mean to say that!’
‘I’m sure we can work something out with regard to the treasure,’ said Catapillow. ‘Doctor Scamandros will help you find your friend, send messages, and so forth. We will even carry you to Port Wednesday. But I’m sure you will be as grateful as we will be to not encounter our most esteemed but sadly submerged ultimate mistress.’
‘Why?’ Arthur asked, wondering why Catapillow and the others seemed unreasonably terrified at the idea. But they were in her service, or at least they operated in her demesne of the House. Presumably she gave them orders or sent them instructions from time to time. But perhaps she was slothful, like Mister Monday, and the administration of the Border Sea was all fouled up like it had been in the Lower House.
‘By the way,’ Arthur continued, ‘do you have any orders about Lord Arthur? I mean, if you happened to pick him up, what would you do with him?’
‘Pick up Lord Arthur? Well, naturally, we should do whatever he wanted us to do,’ replied Catapillow. ‘He’s lord of two domains within the House!’
‘We wouldn’t want to cross that half-frog thing,’ said Concort. ‘Or the killer girl either.’
‘So you haven’t been instructed by Lady Wednesday or her officers to do anything to Arthur if he does show up?’
Sunscorch snorted. Catapillow and Concort looked at each other. Eventually Concort muttered, ‘Very busy these days, Drowned Wednesday, what with eating . . . with various things . . . unfortunately Noon and Dusk went missing some years ago, the confusion arising out of the flooding . . .’
‘What Mister Concort means,’ cut in Doctor Scamandros, ‘is that the Moth has been largely forgotten these six or seven thousand years. I don’t believe we have had any instructions in that time. We simply cruise the Border Sea, take our salvage from it, and sell it and replenish our stores at Port Wednesday or, if we are pressed, at less salubrious anchorages both in the Border Sea and out in the Secondary Realms. Now tell me, have you really been invited to luncheon with Lady Wednesday?’
‘Yes,’ said Arthur. He reached into his pocket and drew out the soggy invitation. Doctor Scamandros took it, raised his eyebrows at the almost complete absence of readable type upon it, and set it on the table. He took an oval-shaped felt blotter out of his coat and rolled it across the card several times. With each pass, the card dried and the ink returned to its former density and blackness. Catapillow and Concort craned over the table to look, and even Sunscorch tilted his head to get a proper view.
Arthur watched the two officers’ faces change as they read the invitation, going from curiosity through puzzlement to shock. Sunscorch, though he moved his lips to read, did not seem unduly affected.