‘Here we go!’ cried Suzy. ‘Straight as an arrow!’
Twenty–three
THERE WAS NO obstruction in the new tunnel. The Balaena passed through it at a steady pace, helped along by the steadily increasing current. Drowned Wednesday was on the move again and seawater, food, and debris were once more rushing into her gullet.
The tunnel through the plate was only a hundred yards long. As they emerged from the far end, Arthur found that he had been holding his breath. He let it out, but didn’t gain any real feeling of relief. There were bound to be so many troubles and obstacles ahead. And even if they did manage to get the Will, they’d still have to come back out.
Which is going to be difficult, Arthur thought. I guess we can go faster forward, but if the current is too strong, the Balaena won’t be able to get out unless Drowned Wednesday stops for long enough …
Once through the straining plate, the Balaena followed the current into the broad lake that was the inside of Drowned Wednesday’s mouth. They crossed that in twenty minutes, the engines straining to maintain steerage way as the current grew swifter, the food-laden waters gathering to pass into Drowned Wednesday’s throat.
But this was almost routine work for the submersible, like navigating a tidal estuary. The throat was very wide, and though there was a lot of material being carried along, there was nothing that posed a threat to the Balaena. Much of it was fish and sea creatures of all kinds, mixed in with salvage.
Arthur had even started to relax a little as the pumps cleared the bridge of water and both Longtayle and the helmsrat resumed their usual calm dialogue of orders and information.
Then, about two miles down the throat, without any warning, the Balaena was suddenly picked up and flipped over in a complete somersault. Arthur nearly slid out of his straps, and once again was struck by flying debris, including the lid of the teapot, which gave the ring of pure silver as it hit him on the head.
At the same time, a strange electric tingle passed through Arthur’s body and the ends of his fingers burst into smoky green flames that disappeared a moment later, just as he cried out and started shaking his hands.
The whole thing happened so quickly that no one had time to react. It was like being on an unfamiliar fairground ride that had suddenly whipped around and no one was sure whether it was going to do it again.
‘We’ve passed through a sorcerous membrane of some kind,’ wheezed Doctor Scamandros. His greatcoat had ridden up around his throat and got tangled, and he was having difficulty pulling it back into place.
‘Pressure gauges have all reset,’ reported the helmsrat. ‘According to this, we’re only five fathoms down, and there’s air above us. No current to speak of either. Still water, or near enough.’
Longtayle scratched his ear.
‘Guess we went through some kind of valve. Take us up to top-eye depth.’
‘Aye, aye, sir.’
A few minutes later, the top-eye view in the globe revealed the surface of a sea within Drowned Wednesday, or a large lake. It was illuminated by a pinkish glow from the stomach roof high above, a glow Doctor Scamandros suggested was from the reaction of specks of Nothing with particles of the House, both of them eaten by Wednesday and caked onto her stomach lining.
‘Very dangerous,’ the sorcerer added, staring into the globe with fascination and dread. ‘Too much Nothing. If enough of it managed to unfix from the House particles and it became concentrated . . .’
‘Can we look for anything like a . . . well, anything big enough to be Feverfew’s worldlet?’ asked Arthur.
‘Rotate top-eye.’
The view in the crystal globe slowly moved around. At first it revealed only more monotonous, greenlit sea. Then there was a sudden flare of colour, bright enough to make Arthur blink.
There, a few miles away, was a shining dome rising out of the sea. A dome easily a thousand yards high and five or six miles in diameter, its rainbow sides shimmering with all the colours of the spectrum, like a giant soap bubble in the sun.
‘Immaterial Walls,’ commented Doctor Scamandros. ‘Very fine work, particularly on such a scale.’
‘That’s it,’ said Arthur. ‘It has to be. Now we need to find the entrance.’
‘Keep us at top-eye depth,’ instructed Longtayle. ‘We’ll do a circumnavigation, see if anything is visible. Snout-eye view.’
‘Probably be guards somewhere,’ said Suzy. ‘Or traps or the like. I mean, it is a pirate’s secret worldlet, ain’t it? If it were mine, I’d have guards and traps all over the place.’
‘Let’s hope not,’ said Arthur. ‘I mean, it is inside a giant whale, to start with, and Feverfew comes and goes by sorcery. It’s not as if they’d be expecting anyone to come in except the salvage slaves they sent out.’