Suzy scratched her head. ‘That’s a bit of a poser. I thought he’d be the sort who’d just cut your head off.’
‘He follows orders and regulations,’ said Arthur. ‘But I reckon if I show any insubordination he will kill me. Besides, I think he’s planning to get me killed anyway, during this attack on the spike.’
‘He’s bound to,’ agreed Suzy, which wasn’t very encouraging. ‘What are you going to do?’
Arthur looked around to check that no one had come within hearing distance.
‘The Will spoke to me, in my head. It said it could free itself if Sir Thursday is sufficiently distracted. Once it’s free, I guess it can help me get the Key. Only … I have to admit, even if I do get the Key and the Will helps, I’m a bit … nervous … about taking on Sir Thursday.’
‘I know what you mean,’ said Suzy.
‘Also, since I’ve been ordered not to try to free the Will, I can’t even try to distract Sir Thursday myself,’ said Arthur.
‘Why not?’ asked Suzy. ‘Just disobey orders. I do it all the time, with Old Primey.’
‘I don’t think I can,’ Arthur explained. ‘I can feel a sort of pressure in my head when I think about disobeying orders, and find it hard to even imagine going against a direct order from Sir Thursday. I think it’s from recruit school, and it’s gotten even worse since I was commissioned. That must be why Sir Thursday made me an officer.’
‘I’ll distract him,’ said Suzy. She had a thoughtful look in her eyes. ‘I reckon I’ve had so much practice disobeying orders I can manage.’
‘It’s not as simple as that,’ said Arthur hurriedly. ‘We have to wait until Sir Thursday has destroyed the Nothing spike. If it isn’t destroyed, we won’t have a chance against the New Nithlings … though now that I think about it … ’
‘What?’ Suzy took a power-spear from a rack and mimed throwing it, to test its weight. Arthur ducked as she swung it around but kept talking.
‘I wonder if anyone has tried talking to the New Nithlings and their commander,’ said Arthur. ‘I know they’re the enemy, but they’re not like normal Nithlings that just want to kill and destroy. Who knows what these ones really want? Maybe I could negotiate with them.’
‘Negotiate with Nithlings?’ asked Suzy. ‘You can’t negotiate with Nithlings –’ ‘Five minutes!’ called the sergeant who’d shown Arthur to the armoury. ‘Five minutes!’
‘Five minutes!’ repeated Arthur. ‘I’d better get ready.’
He ran over to a rack of Legionary armour and, after a moment’s hesitation, pulled out a junior centurion’s bronzed cuirass rather than the segmented armour of an ordinary Legionary. He put it on, and wedged the plastic box with the sorcerous pocket into the sheath under the armhole of his cuirass, meant to hold a last-resort dagger. ‘Can you get me a savage-sword, Suzy? One of the medium-sized ones.’
‘Yes, sir!’ said Suzy, snapping a salute.
‘You don’t have to –’Arthur started to say. He stopped when he saw Suzy’s eyeline. She was looking over his shoulder. At the same time, someone shouted, ‘Atten-hut!’
Arthur spun around, cuirass straps flapping loose. Sir Thursday had entered the armoury. He was still wearing his scarlet Regimentals but had on an iron Legionary helmet instead of a beret, without the badge. He was holding a very long, broad sword that Arthur instantly knew was the Fourth Key. He could feel its power through his bones, a kind of shivery ache that travelled from his fingers to his backbone and down his legs.
The sword had a very wide hilt and handle, so it could be swung with two hands … or by one if the wielder was very strong. There was a decorative metal snake wound around the plain brass hilt. All in all, the sword was a much larger twin to the one that had been on Sir Thursday’s cap badge.
‘Mister Green!’ snapped Sir Thursday. ‘Fall the troops in and check their equipment.’
‘Yes, sir!’
Arthur hurriedly fastened the cuirass straps up under his arms, buckled on the savage-sword that Suzy handed him, and slapped on an officer’s helmet, complete with its scarlet horsehair crest. For a few seconds after that he wasn’t sure what to do. Then he remembered what the officers always did: Tell a sergeant to take care of it. He looked around and located the closest Piper’s child sergeant, a Borderer with three black chevrons on her arm. Arthur quickly marched over to her.
‘What’s your name, Sergeant?’