Lady Friday(50)

‘If they can’t do it here, I will use the Key,’ said Arthur quietly. ‘But not until then.’

‘Someone comes!’ warned Ugham. He pressed himself back against the wall and levelled his spear, just as a Denizen hurried around the curve of the stair, almost spitting himself.

‘Oh!’ exclaimed the Denizen, stepping quickly back down. He was over six feet tall and handsome, save for an oddly short nose and flat face, so he was probably quite important. This impression was aided by his black velvet robes, which were embroidered with a complex scene showing Denizens working a huge book press, ten times their own height. The embroidery was so fine it looked almost like an illustration printed on the fabric. He also wore a stiff paper hat like a bishop’s mitre, though more triangular, its two longest edges marked like a ruler, with five divisions marked by strange numerals.

‘Ugham,’ said Arthur, with a gesture. The Newnith shortened his grip on his spear, bringing it back to his side, at the ready.

‘I do beg your pardon,’ said the Denizen. He bowed twice and wrung his ink-stained hands together. ‘Am I correct in assuming that I address Lord Arthur, Rightful Heir to the Architect?’

‘Yes, I’m Arthur.’

‘The High Guild welcomes you to Binding Junction, Lord Arthur.’ The Denizen performed yet another (and even lower) bow, so low even his flattened nose almost scraped the steps above where he stood. ‘I am Master Binder Jakem, First Pressmaster, 1000th in precedence within the House and, with the absence of Lady Friday’s Noon, in authority over the High Guild of Binding and Restoration. I apologise for not being ready to receive you when you alighted above, but we only just received word of your arrival—’

‘Who from?’ asked Suzy.

Jakem ignored her and continued. ‘But in any case, we naturally wish to do whatever we can to make your visit enjoyable. Perhaps you might like to take a tour of the presses? Or begin with a cup of tea in our … though I say it myself … charming executive tearoom?’

‘A cup of tea would be good,’ said Arthur. ‘But I haven’t got time to waste, so if along with a cup of tea you can provide your best sorcerer, that would be better still.’

‘A cup and sorcerer, ha-ha!’ replied Jakem.

Nobody laughed, and the Denizen’s hand-wringing increased.

‘Just my little joke. Naturally, I am the most accomplished of us in sorcerous arts, though I must confess in a somewhat narrow field related to our work. But please, follow me to the executive tearoom, and pray do tell me what it is that you require, Lord Arthur.’

Arthur explained what he wanted as Jakem led the way, out of the tower stair and along a stone-walled corridor that was hung with tapestries depicting Denizens sewing, gluing, and pressing books, as well as chiselling tablets of stone and casting type from molten metal, presumably lead.

‘That shouldn’t be a problem, Lord Arthur,’ said Jakem. ‘Linking objects that were once together is a simple matter of rebinding and falls within our purview.’

He opened a door and led the way down another corridor, this one draped in white sheets like a painter’s drop covers. This white-wrapped passage led to a chamber whose walls were also draped with sheets, some of them splashed with paint. Apart from the drop cloths, the room looked very comfortable, with half a dozen armchairs richly upholstered in a plum-coloured material adorned with pictograms in gold thread. Numerous cushions that together traversed the full spectrum of a rainbow were piled on the chairs, and in the middle there was a table carved from a single block of gold-flecked stone with a silver tray and tea service on it.

‘The renovations are not yet complete!’ said Jakem crossly. ‘I do apologise, Lord Arthur. Would you care to take tea in the Lower Common Room instead?’

‘Here will do,’ said Arthur. ‘Provided you fix up that spell on the gold leaf right away.’

‘Of course, of course,’ said Jakem. ‘Please, do sit down. Shall I pour?’

Arthur and the others sat down, save for Ugham, who stood between Suzy’s and Fred’s chairs. Jakem snapped his fingers and the teapot jumped and let forth a burst of steam. He then poured cups for everyone, handed the small cups delicately balanced on saucers around, took one himself, and sat down on the chair nearest the corridor entrance.

‘This is a special blend, imported from the Secondary Realms, not made in the Lower Reaches.’ Jakem sniffed at the steam from his cup. ‘Ahh! Delightful. But I understand your impatience, Lord Arthur.’

He set the cup and saucer down on the arm of his chair and stood.