‘What is a Drasil?’ Arthur looked through the empty, spare structure of the tower at the distant, vertical line.
‘A very, very big tree. There’s four Drasils. They hold up the Incomparable Gardens and they’re always growing. I don’t know how high they are, but everyone says the tower is not even close.’
‘Maybe the rain makes them grow,’ said Arthur.
‘Maybe.’
Arthur kept looking at the Drasil until they passed through the empty section and the view was once more obscured by thousands of offices. Alyse didn’t talk, but that suited Arthur. He had a lot to think about.
The rain is important, he thought. It must be, if it started ten thousand years ago, when the Trustees broke the Will. I wonder if it’s Sunday who makes it rain, for the Drasil trees? But that couldn’t be right, because Saturday has the Sixth Key, and it would be strongest here . . . only I kind of remember someone saying the Seventh Key was paramount or the strongest overall or something like that . . .
‘We’re coming up to the eight hundreds.’
Alyse’s voice interrupted Arthur’s train of thought. He looked out and wondered how she knew what level they were at. Then he saw green umbrellas everywhere, in many different shades. The sorcerers, or would-be sorcerers, had umbrellas of dark green, bright emerald green and lime green, as well as ones that had graduated washes of green and patterns of green.
‘Green umbrellas in the eight hundreds,’ said Arthur. ‘That’s how you know where we are – from the colour change in the umbrellas.’
‘Yep,’ Alyse confirmed. ‘Yellow at nine hundred, then you count. There are numbers on the framework, but they’re too small and hard to read from the Big Chain. Now get ready – we’ll have to step off in a minute.’
She took his hand again and they shuffled to the edge of the link. The offices were flashing past very swiftly, Arthur thought. Suddenly the umbrellas changed to yellow. He glanced at Alyse and saw her lips moving as she counted. He tried to count too, but couldn’t keep up.
‘Eighty-five – get ready!’ snapped Alyse.
Arthur started counting again in his head.
‘Ninety-four! Go!’
They stepped off the link, Alyse dragging Arthur, timing it to perfection so that it felt like no more dangerous than stepping down from a high kerb.
‘Move!’ Alyse snapped again. Arthur followed her, splashing past the desk and its oblivious Denizen under his yellow umbrella.
‘Got to make room,’ explained Alyse as she led the way through to a neighbouring office. Behind them, two more grease monkeys stepped off the link and quickly moved diagonally through to an adjacent office.
Arthur looked around and noticed that for the first time, the Denizens at their desks were covertly watching the grease monkeys. While most of them were continuing to write with both hands, they all slowed down to get a better sidelong look.
‘Why are they watching us?’ Arthur whispered to Alyse.
‘Because they know we’re here to shift someone up or down,’ said Alyse loudly. She glared at the Denizen behind the desk next to her. He immediately looked back at his shaving mirror screen and his writing sped up.
‘Right,’ said Arthur. More grease monkeys stepped off the chain and one waved as they splashed their way across. It was Suzy, who looked like she was enjoying herself. He waved back, and learned that he shouldn’t tip his head back when doing so, because a sheet of rain fell on his face.
Alyse had her notebook out again and was studying an entry, her finger moving along the lines. Arthur noticed that all the closer Denizens were watching intently despite Alyse’s earlier glaring.
More grease monkeys arrived in pairs and moved through the offices, until the last, Whrod, stepped off alone.
Alyse shut her notebook with a snap and pointed deeper into the tower.
‘This way!’ she declared.
‘Is it a promotion?’ asked a Denizen. He had given up all pretense of work, and was staring at Alyse, his mouth twisted up in an ugly expression that didn’t match his handsome features.
Alyse ignored him. Striding through a waterfall that had just started coming down, she led the gang deeper into the tower, pausing every now and then to check the numbers that were embossed on the red iron posts that made up the framework of the building.
As the grease monkeys marched, Arthur heard the Denizens whispering all around them.
‘Promotion . . . it must be . . . promotion . . . who is it . . . promotion . . . anyone see a purple capsule . . . - promotion . . . promotion . . .’
‘There she is, four offices ahead,’ Alyse whispered to Arthur. ‘With the saffron checks on the darker yellow. You wait here and join Whrod – he’ll tell you what to do. And look out.’