‘A pig thing with a horn? Ah, I do believe there was some nasty squealing coming out of the elevator Saturday’s Dusk was using … It could perhaps have been the type of created Nithling called a grannow-hoinch …’
‘I thought it must have come with Saturday’s Dusk,’ said Arthur. ‘Strange combination, though. I wonder what the Fetchers were looking for … Do you know, Jakem?’
‘I beg your pardon, Lord Arthur?’ Jakem wiped his brow nervously and went back to wringing his hands. ‘Do I know …’ ‘Do you know what Saturday’s Fetchers were looking for down on the Flat?’
‘Um, not exactly. I do believe there was some talk about something, perhaps a modified rodent, that had taken something not exactly its property …’ ‘A Raised Rat!’ exclaimed Arthur. ‘They were looking for a Raised Rat. I wonder what it could have taken?’
‘I don’t know precisely,’ said Jakem. ‘But I did happen to hear a little of the conversation between Saturday’s Noon and Dusk, and that fragment leads me to think the rat – if it was a rat – might have laid its paws upon a letter.’
I wonder what that’s all about, thought Arthur. He rubbed his eyes in an effort to banish his weariness. A Raised Rat who stole something, presumably from Saturday, and they’re looking for it on the Flat of the Middle House …
‘Reckon it must have jumped a Transfer Plate, the one Friday’s messenger gave to Saturday, same as we did for the Piper’s,’ said Suzy. ‘I thought I saw some funny prints in the snow when we arrived, didn’t I, Uggie?’
Ugham nodded.
Arthur looked at him sharply, but this time the Newnith did not meet his gaze, instead looking into a space above Arthur’s shoulder.
You know something about this, thought Arthur. I wonder if you saw the Raised Rat. I’d better ask Fred what he saw. I hope he wakes up soon. In the meantime, maybe I could take a little rest too … try to think …
‘I’m going to shut my eyes for a few minutes,’ said Arthur. ‘Suzy, Ugham, can you keep watch?’
‘Sure,’ said Suzy. Ugham nodded again.
‘Jakem, you’re not to go anywhere or do anything, or give any orders.’
‘I completely understand, milord!’
Arthur looked around the room, at the press, and at the Denizens who still stood up on the winding gallery. It all looked safe enough, for the moment.
‘Wake me when Digby comes back with the reply from Friday’s Dawn,’ said Arthur, and he shut his eyes.
Nineteen
THE NEWNITH SOLDIER thrust with his spear, and this time it got under Arthur’s shield. He saw it slide under in horrifyingly slow motion and then it hit his armour, and for a second he thought it would be all right, but it slid under that too and was about to slide into his actual stomach. The Newnith was shouting, ‘Friday’s Dawn … Friday’s Dawn … Friday’s Dawn …’
Arthur came awake with a cry and a jump that almost tumbled him out of the chair. He felt terrible, stiff and sore all over. His joints hurt from the flight up from the canal, and his muscles hurt from escaping the press. Suzy was standing next to him, plucking his sleeve.
‘Friday’s Dawn is coming in! He’s accepted your offer!’
Arthur blinked, wiped his eyes, and sat up straight.
‘Is Fred—’ Fred waved at him from the chair opposite and gave a rueful smile.
‘Sorry I drank the tea, Arthur. It was stupid of me—’ ‘Don’t worry,’ said Arthur. ‘I almost drank it too. Uh, how long have I been asleep?’
‘Around an hour,’ said Suzy. ‘That right, Jakey?’
Jakem reached into his robes and pulled out a pocket watch, flicking open the case with his thumb. He studied it intently for a few seconds, then replaced it.
‘Fifty-three minutes, milord,’ he said. ‘Friday’s Dawn is waiting. Do you still wish to speak to him?’
‘Send him in,’ said Arthur.
Friday’s Dawn was, as Arthur expected, a tall and handsome Denizen. But he had not expected to see one in golden plate armour that extended from ankle to neck, including a cuirass shaped with more muscles than even a Denizen could have. Long daisy-yellow wings were folded at his back, pinions rising above his head and tail feathers reaching almost to his armoured ankles. He carried his visored and plumed helmet in the crook of his left arm, above a curved sword on his hip, which was balanced by some kind of short bow in a leather case on his right. A bandage around his forehead was stained with blue blood, indicating a recent wound and harsh fighting, presumably with Saturday’s forces.