Superior Saturday(61)

Arthur shivered as he felt a new surge of sorcery from the writing Denizens in the cupolas, and the platform rose faster. He was on the far side of the rocket from the tower, so he couldn’t see exactly how far they’d already risen, but looking down, he guessed they’d already gone up about two or three hundred levels.

‘How come you’ve got a bit shorter, Woxroth?’ asked a Denizen behind Arthur’s back.

‘Extra demotion,’ grunted Arthur.

Awed silence greeted this answer, followed by a muttered, ‘And I thought I had it bad. Demoted and then killed by a beetle, all in one day.’

Optimistic lot, aren’t they? said the Will into Arthur’s mind.

They might be realistic, thought Arthur. Do you have any suggestions about what I can do?

Bide your time and look for any opportunity. Then take it.

That’s really helpful.

‘Sorcerers with a clear view to the exterior, stand ready!’ ordered a voice from inside, the command echoed on the floors above.

The Denizens on either side of Arthur shuffled and pushed to get their folded umbrellas pointing out through the bars. Arthur copied them, though he didn’t know why they were doing it.

‘We’re approaching 61600, top-out’s at 61850. Be prepared for a counterattack. If it’s green and iridescent, shoot it!’

‘Woxroth,’ whispered the Denizen to Arthur’s left. ‘For the radiant eradication of matter, do we start by visualising a glowing ember or the tip of the flame on a candle? I can’t recall exactly . . .’

‘Uh, dunno,’ Arthur mumbled. He was trying to make his voice low and miserable, like the real Woxroth.

‘An ember, of course,’ said the Sorcerous Supernumerary to Arthur’s right. ‘Did you fail everything?’

‘Almost everything,’ replied the left-hand Supernumerary. ‘Hoo! What’s that? Glowing ember, glowing ember . . .’

‘Hold on,’ said the right-hand Denizen. ‘They’re our lot. On this side, anyway.’

Arthur stared out through the bars. The platform was lifting the rocket up at a faster rate than he’d thought, at least as fast as the moving chain he’d ridden. So it was hard to see, with the air rushing through the bars, the slight rocking motion of the rocket and the constant mild jostling of all the Denizens.

Several hundred feet above them, and closing rapidly, the sky was crisscrossed with smoky trails and sudden, sparking lights that blossomed like silent fireworks in brilliant colours, lasting only a few seconds. All Arthur could hear was the breathing of the Denizens around him, and the low hum of the moving platform.

The sparks were being fired up and out by thousands of flying Denizens who formed a circular perimeter several hundred yards out from the tower, surrounding it. At first Arthur couldn’t make out what they were casting their silent, sparking spells at, there was so much smoke and light in the sky. Then he saw a green tendril that had to be at least four hundred feet long and ten feet thick suddenly lash out of the cloud and strike a flier who had dared to climb too high. The tendril cracked like a whip, and Arthur and all the Denizens flinched at the sudden noise and the sight of the tendril smashing the Denizen’s wings. The lash must have terribly injured the sorcerer as well, for he or she fell like a lump, straight down.

‘Lashed to bits by a weed, that’d be right,’ said one of Arthur’s neighbours.

‘Nah,’ said someone else. ‘That’s a good fifteen hundred feet up. They’re going to fire this thing from the top, a bit short of weed range, and we’ll slice through those tendrils like a hot knife through a butter cake. ’Course, after that, we’ll be easy pickings for the beetles.’

‘I’ve never even seen a butter cake.’

Arthur only half-listened to the complaints behind and around him. He watched the tendril strike again, still flinching at the whip crack even though he knew it was coming. But the Denizen who’d said they wouldn’t get close was right. The platform had slowed down a lot and was now manoeuvring sideways. Arthur could feel less sorcerous energy being expended by the Denizens in the driving cupolas.

The platform was also rotating, Arthur saw as his view changed. The corner of the tower came into sight and then the entire side. They were level with the top now, the ground out of sight at least seventeen thousand feet below.

Here at its peak, the tower was much, much narrower than the levels Arthur had visited. The last fifteen levels were the narrowest, composed of only five offices a side. At the very top, right in the middle, there was a single, much larger office that was the size of four of the usual cubes. Though its frame was iron, it had clear crystal walls and a roof made of the same material.