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Drowned Wednesday(3)

By:Garth Nix


‘Fetchers,’ Arthur said slowly. He held up the paper sachet. ‘The dog-faces are called Fetchers. Throw salt on them.’

‘That’s a good start,’ said Leaf. ‘Fetchers. Where do they come from? What do they want?’

‘They’re servants,’ Arthur explained. He started to talk faster and faster. It was such a relief to tell somebody about what had happened. ‘Creatures made from Nothing. The ones you saw were in the service of Mister Monday. He is . . . was one of the seven Trustees of the House —’ ‘Hang on!’ Leaf interrupted. ‘Slow down. Start at the beginning.’

Arthur took a deep breath, as deep as his lungs allowed, and started at the beginning. He told Leaf about his encounter with Mister Monday and Sneezer. About Monday’s Noon pursuing him through the school library with his flaming sword. He told her how he got into the House the first time, and how he met Suzy Turquoise Blue and the First Part of the Will, and the three of them together had ultimately defeated Mister Monday. How he’d brought back the Nightsweeper to cure the Sleepy Plague, and how he’d thought he would be left alone till he grew up, only to have that hope dashed by Grim Tuesday’s Grotesques, whose appearance had led to his return to the House, his descent into the Pit, and his eventual triumph over Grim Tuesday.

Leaf occasionally asked a question, but most of the time she just sat there, taking in everything Arthur had to say. Finally, he showed her the cardboard invitation from Lady Wednesday. She took it and read it several times.

‘I wish I had adventures like you do,’ Leaf said as she traced her finger over the writing on the invitation.

‘They didn’t feel like adventures,’ said Arthur. ‘I was too scared most of the time to actually enjoy anything or get excited about it. Weren’t you scared by the Scoucher?’

‘Sure,’ Leaf said, with a glance at her bandaged arm. ‘But we survived, didn’t we? That makes it an adventure. If you get killed it’s a tragedy.’

‘I could do without any more adventures for a while.’ Arthur thought Leaf would agree with him if she’d had the same experiences. They sounded much more exciting and safer just as stories. ‘I really just want to be left alone!’

‘They’re not going to leave you alone, though.’ Leaf held up Wednesday’s invitation, then flipped it over to Arthur, who put it back in his pocket. ‘Are they?’

‘No,’ Arthur agreed, resignation all through his voice. ‘The Morrow Days aren’t going to leave me alone.’

‘So what are you going to do to them?’ said Leaf.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, since they won’t leave you alone, you’d better get in first. You know, attack is the best form of defence.’

‘I suppose . . .’ said Arthur. ‘You mean I shouldn’t wait for whatever Wednesday is going to do, but go back into the House now?’

‘Yeah, why not? Get together with your friend Suzy, and the Will, and work out some plan to deal with Wednesday before she deals with you.’

‘It’s a good idea,’ admitted Arthur. ‘The only thing is, I don’t know how to get back into the House. I can’t open the Atlas because I’ve used up all the power I had from holding on to the Keys. And in case you haven’t noticed, I do have a broken leg. Though I suppose . . .’

‘What?’

‘I could phone Dame Primus if I had my phone box, because it’ll probably be reconnected now that Grim Tuesday’s bills have been paid.’

‘Where’s the phone box? What’s it look like?’

‘It’s at home,’ said Arthur. ‘In my bedroom. It’s just a velvet-lined wooden box about this big.’ He held his hands apart.

‘Maybe I could go get it for you,’ said Leaf. ‘If they ever let me out of this hospital. If it isn’t one thing, it’s another. Quarantine this, quarantine that . . .’

‘Maybe,’ said Arthur. ‘Or maybe I could . . . what’s that smell?’

Leaf sniffed the air and looked around. As she looked, the pages of the calendar on the wall started to flutter.

‘I don’t know. I think the air-conditioning just came on. Feel the breeze.’

Arthur held up his hands to feel the air. There was a definite rush of cold coming from somewhere, and a kind of salty odour, like when they stayed at the beach and the surf was big . . .

‘It smells kind of damp,’ said Leaf.

Arthur struggled up to a sitting position, reached over and grabbed his slippers and dressing gown, and hurriedly put them on.

‘Leaf!’ he cried. ‘Get out! That’s not the air-conditioning!’ ‘Sure isn’t,’ Leaf agreed. The wind was getting stronger every second. ‘Something weird’s going on.’