Arthur bounded up the stairs as Marek shut the door behind him. Reaching the first window, the boy unbolted the shutters and opened one a few inches, enough to look out without being too obvious.
Through the narrow gap he saw the snowy plain and not much else. Visibility was still very limited, with snow falling steadily and the clouds almost low enough to touch from the tower. Arthur had half-expected to see massed ranks of Fetchers or other Nithlings, so he was relieved by the absence of enemies, even if it was only for the time being.
Then it occurred to him that he was looking out only one side of the tower. The Fetchers could be forming up on one of the other two sides, the fourth side being the canal, and thus probably safe. Unless the Fetchers had wings, or boats. Which was entirely possible, Arthur thought. So he would have to check that side as well.
To look out other windows he had to go up and look out at the next three levels. Each landing had a single window, to either north, east, south, or west – not that Arthur knew which one was which.
Arthur ran up the stairs and quickly looked out in each direction, making sure he refastened the shutters. He knew that back in the Secondary Realms the Fetchers – winged or otherwise – couldn’t cross a threshold without invitation but he wasn’t sure if that applied in the House.
Thinking of that reminded him of two things. One was that he hadn’t actually confirmed his location. He assumed he was somewhere in the Middle House. The second was that even though he didn’t want to consult it, Dame Primus still had his Compleat Atlas of the House and he felt a bit funny about that. He’d rather have it with him, so if he absolutely needed to he would be able to check things out in it. He also didn’t want Dame Primus to have it.
It’s not that I don’t trust her, he thought. It’s just that … I’m not sure if I should trust her.
Arthur shook his head and sighed. Thinking about the Will and its manifestation as the annoying Dame Primus wasn’t helping the current situation.
Focus, he told himself. Focus!
There was nothing immediately threatening in any direction, or at least nothing that Arthur could see. He went back down somewhat slower than he’d gone up, but his mind was still running fast, thinking through the situation and what he was going to do. At the bottom, he returned to the antechamber, turned the handle around, and opened the door back on to the chamber of molten gold and all its workers.
Arthur had hoped that he’d immediately see a sizeable force of former veterans of the Army parading ready to receive his orders, but that was not the case. Only three Denizens stood in line, at ease. They were carrying the ten-foot-long gold-scooping poles, with no other, more effective weapons in evidence. Everything else was much as it had been ten minutes before, a hive of activity, except that the group of Denizens lying down with paper or parchment strips stuck on their foreheads had got noticeably larger. At least another twenty or thirty Denizens had lain down in that area.
Marek was nowhere in sight, but a female Denizen who was wearing a ruffled green shirt, as well as a rather cleaner and more impressive apron than the others, was standing by the door, giving instructions to several workers. She turned as Arthur marched in, and bowed low.
‘Elibazeth?’ asked Arthur.
‘Yes, lord.’
‘Is this all the Denizens here who have done Army service?’
‘All who are not experiencing,’ said Elibazeth. She gestured to the sleeping, paper-stuck Denizens.
‘What?’ Arthur didn’t think he’d heard her properly, over the noise of the hammers and everything.
‘Experiencing.’
‘Experiencing what? Being asleep?’
‘No, lord,’ said Elibazeth. ‘They are not asleep. They are partaking of mortal experience. They will wake in a month or two.’
‘What!’ exclaimed Arthur. ‘What are those papers they’ve got stuck on?’
‘Mortal experiences,’ said Elibazeth stolidly. She did not appear to be so overawed by Arthur as Marek had been. She was simply matter-of-fact. ‘They are pieces of mortal experience that Lady Friday has discarded. As they are not explicitly forbidden, they are allowed.’
Arthur stared at her, then shook his head. Obviously he was going to have to get a lot more information, and as quickly as possible.
‘Wait here,’ he instructed Elibazeth before he strode over to the pitifully small line of former soldiers.
‘Ten-hut!’ called the Denizen on the right. The trio came to attention.
‘Present ar—!’
‘Thanks!’ called out Arthur. ‘We won’t bother with all that. Stand easy! I’m Arthur, Commander of the Glorious Army of the Architect. Um, are there really only three of you here who’ve done military service?’