Drowned Wednesday(83)

Arthur kept his sword up and ready. He would not blink or look away.

‘What proposition?’ he asked.

‘Why, an exchange of blows,’ said Feverfew. ‘One each, and you can go first. If you slay me, then you and yours go free. If I slay you, then I inherit all that is yours. I become the Rightful Heir to the House!’

‘I don’t know if it would work like that,’ said Arthur. ‘Even if I did agree.’

There has to be a catch, he thought. Like in the story with the knight and the green giant. I know Feverfew can reattach his head, even more than most Denizens. But Sunscorch said that if I can get grit on his neck-stump, or lay the flat of my blade there …

‘That’s my concern,’ said Feverfew. ‘There’s that old fish to witness. Set it out of your pocket, so it can see the goings-on. Now, I shall give you one minute by my watch to decide. A friendly wager or a free-for-all against me and my pirate crew.’

He smiled and took a jewel-encrusted watch the size of an orange out of his pocket. At the same time, he casually stepped back, so there was no chance Arthur could reach him before his own pirates came forward.

Arthur flicked his gaze to Leaf, just for a second. She looked normal enough, but she wasn’t looking at him. She was staring at Feverfew.

‘I get the first blow?’ asked Arthur. ‘There’ll be no interference from your crew?’

‘They shall stand as trees on a windless day,’ replied Feverfew.

‘Can you be cut by steel?’ asked Arthur.

‘Steel or silver, iron or bronze, all blades sunder my flesh. It is an honest wager, as I said, between two mortals, as transformed by time, the House, sorcery, and Nothing.’

Arthur turned his head sideways a little and looked at Feverfew out of the corner of his eye again. The scrawny, inhuman thing clad in tattered papers would be much easier to strike than someone human-looking. His neck seemed thinner too.

‘I want to talk to the Carp first,’ he said. ‘Give me another minute.’

‘One more minute,’ said Feverfew coldly. ‘Since it is you who asks.’

Arthur kept his position against the tree, and his sword in his right hand. With his left, he pulled out the jam jar and raised it close to his head.

I’m plenty afraid now, he thought. Can you hear me, Carp?

I can, responded the Carp silently. You must have faith, Arthur —

Stop! Just tell me, as far as you know, can Feverfew be killed by having his head cut off if I lay the blade flat on his neck-stump?

Perhaps, the Carp replied. That would work even with most superior Denizens. But Feverfew is devious.

Perhaps!! What kind of answer … never mind. Is there anything you can do to free Suzy and Jebenezer and the others? Or my friend Leaf? She must be under a spell. There’s no way she’d be with the pirates otherwise —

I have kept you free of Feverfew’s spell. Perhaps I could free one more …

There was that word again. Arthur couldn’t stand it.

Perhaps! he repeated in his mind. You’re the one who needs to have some faith —

Indeed, Arthur. I have never claimed otherwise —

‘Time!’ interrupted Feverfew. ‘Or close enough. What is your decision, Arthur?’

‘I accept,’ said Arthur. As he spoke, he felt suddenly sick, but he willed the nausea away.

‘Excellent,’ said Feverfew. ‘I shall kneel here then, and you may strike when you will. Please do ensure the fish has a good view of the proceedings.’

Arthur nodded. He started to set the jar down near his feet, but changed his mind and put it down right up against Suzy’s right foot. At the same time, he scooped up a handful of earth.

‘I haven’t got all day,’ said Feverfew. He had already removed his wings, and put them aside as he knelt down. His illusory self was winding back his long black hair to bare his neck. In reality, he had almost no hair and was just going through the motions.

Arthur stepped close to him, his mind racing.

Strike fast, throw the earth on the stump, lay the flat of the blade there, to be sure.

‘Oh, hurry up!’

Arthur raised his sword. It felt much heavier than it had before. He lifted it as high as he could, then brought it down with all the strength of his shoulder and the weight of his upper body.

I must keep looking, Arthur thought. Don’t be distracted. Throw the earth and lay the flat of the blade.

It felt surprisingly like hitting a home run in baseball. There was a sudden shock through his arm, then the sword was free again.

Arthur had kept his eye on the target. He threw the earth and laid the blade firmly against the neck-stump, which was dry and bloodless. Feverfew’s head rolled on the dirt for only a moment, then with frightening speed, it hurtled into the air. At the same time, his body jerked back and stood up. Arthur had to jump too, to keep the flat of the blade on the neck.