Sir Thursday(13)

And I’ll just hide out here, thought Arthur bitterly. He felt powerless and trapped, but at the same time, he could not think of anything else he could do.

‘If I use the Third Key that much, then I will turn into a Denizen, full stop,’ Arthur said finally. ‘But I realise that the Border Sea must be contained. So I will give you the Third Key.’

‘Good,’ said Dame Primus. She smiled and tapped her Agenda a few times with satisfaction, then suddenly stopped as if struck by a sudden recollection. ‘However, you are the Rightful Heir. You should not remain a weak mortal. It probably would be best for you to keep and use all three Keys and become a Denizen as quickly as possible.’

Arthur was irritated now. ‘I’ve told you tons of times – I know I can’t go home now, but at least there’s a chance … a small chance that one day, if I don’t become a Denizen … oh, forget it!’

Arthur sat back down and slapped the table angrily, spoiling the effect by choking slightly on his own spit as he did so. To clear his throat, he picked up his orange juice and drank it down – until something hard rolled out of the cup and into his mouth, almost choking him for real.

Arthur spat out whatever it was onto the table. The object rang like a bell as it hit the metal surface, rolled in ever-decreasing circles, and quivered to a stop. It was a silver coin, about twice the diameter of a dollar.

‘What the –’ said Arthur. ‘There was a coin in my drink!’

‘No,’ said Dame Primus. She dropped her gold pencil and a tortoiseshell fan appeared in her hand. As she resumed speaking, she fanned her face in agitation. ‘Surely you wouldn’t be eligible?’

‘What are you talking about?’ Arthur picked up the coin and looked at it. One side showed a knight’s head, with the visor of his helmet up and ostrich plumes falling down one side. The letters around the side were initially just gobbledygook to Arthur, but they changed as he looked at them, to spell out Sir Thursday, Defender of the House. The other side showed the top third of a big old-fashioned sword, with a serpent wound around the hilt. Or perhaps the serpent was the hilt – Arthur couldn’t be sure. The words around this side also shimmered and changed, to become One Shilling.

‘It’s just a coin,’ said Arthur. He looked around at everyone. They were all staring at him, and they all looked disturbed. ‘Isn’t it?’

‘It’s Sir Thursday’s shilling,’ Dame Primus explained. ‘You’ve been tricked into taking it. One of the very oldest tricks, to make someone accept something they don’t want, or don’t know about.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘It means you’ve been drafted,’ said Dame Primus. ‘Into the Glorious Army of the Architect. I expect the papers will arrive at any moment.’

‘Drafted!? Into the army? But how –’

‘I suppose that technically you have a position within the House,’ said Dame Primus. ‘Which allows Sir Thursday to draft you. Every Denizen, at some time, must do their century of military service –’

‘Century! I can’t spend a hundred years in the Army!’

‘The question is whether this is an intentional plan on the part of Sir Thursday to bring you into his power, or just some accident of the administrative process. If the latter, you will be quite safe, until we can find out where Part Four of the Will is, and then with its help, we can –’

‘Safe? I’ll be in the Army! What if I get sent into a battle or something? What if Sir Thursday just kills me?!’

Dame Primus shook her head.

‘He can’t just kill you. Once you’ve been recruited, he’ll have to follow his own regulations. I suppose that he could make things very unpleasant for you. But they do that to the recruits anyway.’

‘Fantastic. What about the assassins that killed Mister Monday and Grim Tuesday? What if they kill me?’

‘Hmmm. In fact, this could work to your advantage, Arthur. No assassin from the Middle or Upper House would dare attack you among your comrades in the Great Maze, and a Denizen from the Incomparable Gardens would be very obvious and give you time to get away or think of something. You would be out of the way, and comparatively safe, while we get on with things.’

‘I beg your pardon, Dame Primus, but there is one thing Sir Thursday could and probably will do if he knows Arthur is among his recruits,’ Monday’s Noon interrupted. ‘My own service was long ago, but I have not forgotten it. Arthur will probably be safe enough during his first year of training. But after that, he could be posted to the Borderers, or to the Mountain Fort, where there is always fighting with the Nithlings. As a mortal, he would stand in much more danger in battle than any Denizen.’