Drowned Wednesday(32)

Yours sincerely,



Arthur Penhaligon



P.S. Say hi to Suzy for me, and Sneezer and everyone.



Arthur looked at what he had written. He hadn’t even been sure he was going to try to find Part Three of the Will until he’d written it. But the idea must have been growing in his head ever since Leaf had said that he should do something first instead of waiting for the Trustees to do something to him.

The only problem was where to start.

‘Finished?’ asked Doctor Scamandros. ‘Fold it over and write the addressee on the front. Then press your thumb on the fold and it will seal.’

Arthur did as he was instructed. When his thumb pressed down, a spray of rainbow light ran around the edges of the paper, and when he lifted his hand, there was a thick round seal that showed his own head in profile with a laurel wreath around his temples.

‘Now, don’t tell Captain Catapillow or Concort,’ said Doctor Scamandros. ‘Having a shortage of prepared stamps, I have taken something suitable from their collection.’

He showed Arthur a large, colourful stamp that pictured a bird with a dark body, a white rump, and a forked tail. It was labelled in small type Leach’s Stormy Petrel and there was a large number 2 and an unfamiliar currency sign.

‘From your Earth,’ said Scamandros. ‘A nocturnal seabird. I shall just dab a drop of activated ink on its eye and utter a little incantation. You might wish to stand behind me, Arthur. Some of the Architect’s words are inimical to mortals.’

Arthur quickly moved behind Scamandros and put his fingers in his ears. He remembered the effect of the words the sorcerer had used on the ship.

Scamandros bent over the folded letter, opened his bronze ink bottle, and, using a tiny eyedropper, sucked up some ink. He then carefully dropped just a speck of the liquid on the eye of the bird in the stamp, at the same time muttering something that Arthur couldn’t hear, though it made his elbows and knees twinge and ache.

The bird twitched and flapped its wings. It poked its head up and out of the stamp and, fluttering its wings furiously, worked its whole body out. As it left the stamp, it grew larger and the letter grew smaller. It continued to grow until it was about two feet long and its wings spanned six feet. The letter was tiny by then, a rectangle only an inch long. The bird, a bright twinkle in its eye, picked the letter up in its beak and swallowed it before waddling down the beach, slowly beating its wings till it was able to take off, immediately becoming graceful and swift.

‘Well, I shall just clear up here,’ said Doctor Scamandros. ‘I have to spread some of this magic-tainted sand around and so forth. If you want to try the mirror and shell, I suggest you ask Mister Sunscorch to watch over you, and sit between the Captain’s tent and the sea.’

‘Thanks,’ said Arthur. Doctor Scamandros was being very helpful.

Maybe I’m too suspicious, thought Arthur. He must have some reason of his own for helping me … I wonder what it is … I wonder if he can read my thoughts —

‘How long will it take the letter to get to Dame Primus?’ Arthur asked quickly, just in case Doctor Scamandros could read his mind and was offended that Arthur still didn’t trust him.

‘It’s difficult to say. Barring accident or interception, a day or two in our time here. What that would be in the House, I cannot say without considerable calculation. Time does not run true between the House and the Realms.’

Arthur nodded. It looked like he was stuck here for a week anyway, till the Moth could be repaired. Since there was nothing he could do about that, he might as well use the time to work out what to do. And to do that, he needed to find out what had happened to Leaf.

‘I’ll go back now,’ said Arthur. ‘I will ask Sunscorch to watch over me. Thanks for your help, Doctor.’

Scamandros bowed.

Arthur turned away and started to walk back along the beach. It was dark without the candle, but he could see the lights of the camp, which weren’t that far. Even so, he started to walk quite fast.

He was halfway there when something made him turn around and look back. He could see the glow of the candle, and a partial silhouette that might have been Doctor Scamandros. But there was something else there as well. Another shape, a dark cutout against the candlelight. Arthur only saw it for a moment, then it was gone. But in that instant, he thought he recognised what it was.

Another stormy petrel. Doctor Scamandros was sending a message to someone else.

I knew it, thought Arthur fiercely. He’s probably trying to sell me out to Wednesday or one of the other Trustees. They might send Superior Saturday’s Dusk if that’s who it was who attacked me in Grim Tuesday’s Pit. If he comes back with his sword I’ll be helpless without a Key, though maybe the crew of the Moth would defend me because of the Captain’s disc. I still don’t understand why Saturday would want Nothing to destroy the House. There is definitely something going on with the Morrow Days and Nothing. But what? Why is everything so difficult —