‘What? You were just saying this area is adamant and strong and all that!’ protested Arthur. He peered into the darkness, but he couldn’t tell whether he was looking at advancing Nothing or just couldn’t see very far because the only immediate light came from the feeble lantern on the coal pile.
‘Oh, the area immediately adjacent to the clock is doubtless proof against the Void,’ said Scamandros. ‘But before your arrival I was weighing up the relative . . . er . . . benefits of being throttled by the Old One as opposed to being dissolved by Nothing.’
‘The Old One wouldn’t throttle you . . . oh . . . I guess he might,’ said Arthur. ‘He does hate Denizens . . .’ Arthur stopped talking and looked over at the blue glow, thoughts of his very first encounter with the Old One going through his mind. He could well remember the feel of the prison chain around his neck. ‘I hope he’ll still talk to me. Since I’m here, I want to ask him some questions.’
Dr Scamandros peered owlishly at Arthur, with his half-moon spectacles glinting on his forehead, helping him focus his invisible third and fourth eyes.
‘It is true that the Old One has a fondness for mortals. But I think you are no longer mortal. What does my . . . your ring indicate?’
Arthur looked. The gold had washed well into the seventh segment.
‘About seventy-five per cent contaminated,’ he said quietly. ‘I hope the Old One can recognise the quarter part of humanity inside me.’
‘Perhaps it would be best to simply depart,’ said Scamandros nervously. ‘Though I should say that the ring has a margin—’
‘I do need to at least try to get some answers from him,’ said Arthur distractedly. ‘If I keep my distance it should be okay. Then we’d better get up to the Citadel and find out what’s happening from Dame Primus. Oh, and I need to ask you about something I’ve done back on Earth . . .’
Quickly Arthur described what he’d done with the Key, and the strangely red-lit environment of what appeared to be a town frozen in time.
‘I cannot be entirely sure, Lord Arthur, without proper investigation,’ said Scamandros. ‘But as you suspected, you may have separated your entire world from the general procession of time in the Secondary Realms, or have temporally dislocated just a portion of it, around your town. In either case, the cessation will slowly erode. In due course the march of time will resume its normal beat, and everything that was to happen will occur unless you return and prevent it before the erosion of the cessation, which you should be able to do given the elasticity of time between the House and the Secondary Realms. I’m sure Sneezer could tell you more, using the Seven Dials.’
‘But the Seven Dials must have been destroyed,’ said Arthur. ‘With Monday’s Dayroom.’ He stopped and slapped the side of his head. ‘And all the records stored in the Lower House. They must have been destroyed too! Doesn’t that mean that whatever those records were about in the Secondary Realms will also be destroyed? My record was there!’
Scamandros shook his head.
‘The Seven Dials will have moved to safety of its own accord, hopefully to some part of the House we control. As for the records, only dead observations are held in the Lower House. Admittedly their destruction will create holes in the past, but that is of no great concern. Monday must have been given your record temporarily, I presume by the Will, but it would normally have been held in the Upper House, as an active record.’
‘Sneezer gave it to me after I defeated Monday, but I left it behind,’ said Arthur. ‘So Dame Primus has probably got it.’
‘Unless it has returned to the Upper House. Such documents cannot be long held out of their proper place.’
‘But then Saturday can change my record and that would change me!’ exclaimed Arthur. ‘She could destroy it . . . me . . . both!’
Scamandros shook his head again. A tattoo of a red-capped judge with a beaked nose appeared on his left cheek and also shook his head.
‘No – even if Saturday knows where it is, she could not change or destroy it. Not once you had even a single Key.’
‘I feel like my head is going to explode.’ Arthur massaged his temples with his knuckles and sighed. ‘There’s just too much . . . What are you doing?’
Scamandros paused in the act of removing a very large hand drill from inside his coat and a shining ten-inch-long drill bit from an external pocket.
‘If I bore a hole in your skull just here,’ said Scamandros, tapping the side of his forehead, ‘it will relieve the pressure. I expect it is a side effect of your transformation into a higher Denizen—’