Superior Saturday(53)

It took half an hour for the water to reach the bottom. In that time, Arthur was smashed a hundred times against the sides of the pipe. He hurt terribly, all over, but the awful passage that would have killed any mortal at its beginning did not kill him.

At the bottom, the huge pipe spat out a waterfall that cascaded into a vast, under-floor lake, carved out of the bulwark rock under the Upper House. Arthur fell through the waterfall, sank to the bottom, and just lay there until the pains that wracked him diminished from the level of blinding stabs to a steady, debilitating ache.

It still hurt to move, but Arthur forced himself to swim up to the surface. Breaking out of the water, he was afraid he might not be able to breathe air, but he could, and it felt no different from when he was breathing the water.

Arthur wearily trod water and looked around. He could see the huge pipe and the waterfall that still cascaded from it, but little else. There was fog, or steam, obscuring everything. As the water drained from his ears, he became aware of sound, the dull, repetitive thud of mighty engines.

Back under the floor, he thought. In the middle of a lot of water. Must be the Central Rain Reservoir . . .

‘Part Six?’ Arthur croaked. ‘Will. Are you here too?’

A raven head emerged from the water, but it was not glossy and black, and there were blank lines where parts of it were missing. It opened its beak and croaked, ‘Most of me is here, Lord Arthur, but some fragments are yet to arrive. In fact, I believe the few paragraphs that make up my tail are still falling as rain and will not arrive here for an hour or more.’

‘I doubt we’ve got an hour,’ said Arthur. ‘I was overconfident. Scamandros warned me that they could track any sorcery I did. I just didn’t think calling you would count.’

‘Saturday must have devoted a very large number of her Denizens to watch for any signs of sorcery,’ said the Will. ‘It is surprising, since she is also massing her forces to assault the Incomparable Gardens. If we are fortunate, that battle will have commenced and will serve as a distraction. In any case, we are a long way under the floor here, and her servants do not like to venture into this region.’

‘The Ratcatcher Automatons do, though,’ said Arthur. ‘Can you pull yourself together from anywhere in this pool?’

‘Why, yes,’ said the Will. ‘Why?’

‘You can do it from near solid ground, then. I have to get out of the water. I feel like I’ve been run over by a mammoth. Which way is the closest shore?’

‘Follow me,’ said the raven head, and it began to move away. It looked quite horrible, just the head of a bird and part of its neck, gliding across the water without obvious means of propulsion.

Arthur swam slowly and wearily behind it, thinking about Suzy and Leaf. He felt as if he’d abandoned both of them, but he hadn’t meant to. It was just how things had worked out.

Not that that’s an excuse, he thought gloomily. Maybe Suzy’s okay – they probably just took her prisoner. And maybe time has stayed stopped for Leaf. It seems so cowardly to wait for the Will and then take it back to the Citadel . . . but what else can I do?

The steam clouds ahead parted to show a long stone quay or platform that was only a few inches above the water level. Arthur dragged himself up onto it and collapsed. The Will watched from the water and began to flex the beginnings of its left wing.

Arthur hadn’t lain there very long when he heard something other than the steady hum and clank of the steam engines. A more surreptitious noise – like someone sweeping the floor, accompanied by a faint patter of feet and the suggestion of a whistle . . .

He sat up and looked along the quay. The whistle was very quiet, but he thought he knew what it was, and his guess was confirmed as Dartbristle emerged out of the steaming mists. The Rat was holding a small crossbow in one hand and dragging a net full of something behind.

‘Dartbristle!’ Arthur called out.

The Raised Rat jumped, dropped the net, and lifted his crossbow with both hands.

‘Lord Arthur! What are you doing here?’

‘I got washed down a drain. But I’m glad to see you. I need some directions. What are you doing?’

Dartbristle was aiming the crossbow at him, while also shaking his head. Arthur saw with horrid fascination that the crossbow bolt had a head made of Immaterial Glass, like a sealed bottle, and a tiny piece of Nothing writhed inside.

‘I’m sorry, Lord Arthur. I wish you weren’t here! I have the strictest orders—’

‘No!’ shouted Arthur.

Dartbristle pulled the trigger, and the Nothing-poisoned bolt sped straight for Arthur’s chest.