Drowned Wednesday(93)

The object was a fluffy yellow elephant. A sleeping elephant, curled into a ball. Its head and trunk were bare, the yellow fluff worn down to the cloth underneath.

Arthur picked it up. It was his elephant. The one toy his birth parents had been able to give him before they died. He’d had it for years and years, but had lost it on his fifth birthday when he took it to a picnic that had been suddenly abandoned due to rain. Bob and Emily had hunted for it the next day, and his older brothers and sisters had as well, several times, but Elephant had never been found.

Arthur slowly put Elephant in his pocket and turned back to where the others were waiting. As he did so, the hatch in the conning tower of the Balaena sprang open behind him. A Rat, his head swathed in bloodied bandages, climbed out, then reached back in and helped Doctor Scamandros emerge.

‘Lord Arthur! You did it! You defeated Drowned Wednesday!’ the Doctor called.

‘She helped me,’ said Arthur. ‘I’m glad you’re okay. What happened?’

‘Uh, the full story may have to wait,’ said Scamandros hurriedly. He climbed down onto the hull as more Rats came out of the conning tower and deployed an inflatable raft. ‘I fear this vessel is held together merely by my own poor sorcery, and that is rather coming adrift as well. In fact, if you wouldn’t mind, Lord Arthur?’

Arthur pointed the Key at the submersible.

‘Don’t sink!’

His hand trembled as he gave that directive, and Arthur was surprised to find that it took an effort to hold the trident up. It began to shake in his hand and grow unpleasantly warm.

‘Nothing contamination,’ gasped Scamandros as he was helped into the raft. ‘As soon as everyone’s out you’d best let it go.’

Arthur nodded. He had to grab the Key with his other hand — it took all his strength to hold it level. It felt like the Key was some kind of lever, propping up a very heavy weight.

There was no movement at the conning tower. The Key began to slip down, then when Arthur thought he couldn’t hold it up any longer, Longtayle popped out. The Rat jumped from the conning tower straight into the sea, as the raft pushed off. As it did so, Scamandros fell back in a faint. Large parts of the Balaena crumpled or fell off as he did.

‘Go,’ said Arthur. ‘Return to the Void.’

The submersible collapsed in on itself, becoming a small, dark star for just a second. Then it too was gone.

Arthur put his left hand in his pocket and felt the soft synthetic fur of Elephant, weighing it up against the heft of the Key in his right hand. He could feel the power of the Key still, flowing gently through his arm. Changing him, making him into a Denizen. Making it impossible for him to be human.

If he kept using it.

‘Ho, Arthur!’

The hail was not from the Carp. It was as loud or louder, but far deeper in tone. Arthur jumped and looked around.

The three-masted brigantine was heaving-to only a hundred yards away, and its Captain was calling from the quarterdeck, without the aid of a speaking trumpet. He was tall and craggy, and cradled a harpoon that glittered and shone with unearthly light.

‘I came as fast as the winds could carry me across a dozen worlds,’ shouted the Mariner. ‘Yet it seems you do not need my help at all, for now you walk where others must swim or stand upon a wooden deck!’

Arthur shook his head. All that fearful time pleading for help, hoping the Mariner’s disc would do something, and now he came!

‘I’m not walking on water for long,’ shouted Arthur. He put the Third Key through his belt. As it left his hand, he started to sink into the sea once again, as did Suzy and Leaf.

‘So,’ called Arthur, just before he got a mouthful of seawater, ‘we do need someone to take us — and three thousand Denizens — to Port Wednesday, as soon as it can be done.’

‘We’ll take you,’ answered the Mariner. ‘As for your three thousand Denizens, there are five vessels manned by fine Rats following not far behind. They’ll take on passengers, for a fee.’

‘Wednesday’s Noon will arrange payment,’ Arthur answered, the brigantine drifting closer, so he didn’t have to shout so loud.

‘There is no Wednesday’s Noon,’ objected the Carp.

‘He used to be called Sunscorch,’ said Arthur. ‘We’ll fix up the formalities when we get ashore, provided he wants the job. There’ll be a new Dusk too, if he wants the job when he regains consciousness. A Denizen called Doctor Scamandros.’

‘This is most irregular,’ said the Carp. ‘I believe you’re supposed to consult me about such matters.’

‘Believe away,’ said Arthur. He put his head down and swam a few strokes to the net the brigantine’s crew had flung over the side. ‘I’ll see you in Port Wednesday, if you’re quick.’