“ Jakem, you’re not to go anywhere or do anything, or give any orders.”
“I completely understand, milord!”
Arthur looked around the room, at the press, and at the Denizens who still stood up on the winding gallery. It all looked safe enough, for the moment.
“Wake me when Digby comes back with the reply from Friday’s Dawn,” said Arthur, and he shut his eyes.
Chapter Nineteen
The Newnith soldier thrust with his spear, and this time it got under Arthur’s shield. He saw it slide under in horrifyingly slow motion and then it hit his armour, and for a second he thought it would be all right, but it slid under that too and was about to slide into his actual stomach. The Newnith was shouting, “Friday’s Dawn ... Friday’s Dawn ... Friday’s Dawn ...”
Arthur came awake with a cry and a jump that almost tumbled him out of the chair. He felt terrible, stiff and sore all over. His joints hurt from the flight up from the canal, and his muscles hurt from escaping the press. Suzy was standing next to him, plucking his sleeve.
“Friday’s Dawn is coming in! He’s accepted your offer!” Arthur blinked, wiped his eyes, and sat up straight. “Is Fred-”
Fred waved at him from the chair opposite and gave a rueful smile.
“Sorry I drank the tea, Arthur. It was stupid of me-”
“Don’t worry,” said Arthur. “I almost drank it too. Uh, how long have I been asleep?”
“Around an hour,” said Suzy. “That right, Jakey?”
Jakem reached into his robes and pulled out a pocket watch, flicking open the case with his thumb. He studied it intently for a few seconds, then replaced it.
“Fifty-three minutes, milord,” he said. “Friday’s Dawn is waiting. Do you still wish to speak to him?”
“Send him in,” said Arthur.
Friday’s Dawn was, as Arthur expected, a tall and handsome Denizen. But he had not expected to see one in golden plate armour that extended from ankle to neck, including a cuirass shaped with more muscles than even a Denizen could have. Long daisy-yellow wings were folded at his back, pinions rising above his head and tail feathers reaching almost to his armoured ankles. He carried his visored and plumed helmet in the crook of his left arm, above a curved sword on his hip, which was balanced by some kind of short bow in a leather case on his right. A bandage around his forehead was stained with blue blood, indicating a recent wound and harsh fighting, presumably with Saturday’s forces.
Dawn bowed stiffly before Arthur, who stood and inclined his head in return.
“Greetings, Lord Arthur.” Dawn’s voice was gravelly, not at all as pleasant and melodic as most senior Denizens.
“And to you, Friday’s Dawn,” said Arthur. “I trust you heard my offer correctly? That if you will obey my orders, I shall place you in command of Binding Junction and the Top Shelf?”
“I did, Lord Arthur, and ... reluctantly ... I accept,” said Dawn.
“Reluctantly?” Arthur asked. This Denizen was a straight talker, which made a pleasant change after Jakem.
“Yes, milord,” Dawn replied stiffly. “However, I see little choice. Lady Friday has abandoned us, as have my compatriots, her Noon and Dusk. Since I am not one to partake of her ... amusements ... she clearly chose to leave me behind. My loyalty is thus not to Friday but to the Middle House and those in it. That is why I have resisted the invasion by Saturday’s forces. The choice, as I see it, is between Saturday and yourself, Lord Arthur. I choose your service.”
“I am the Rightful Heir, you know,” said Arthur. “Yes, sir, if you say so. Are you ready to accept my allegiance?”
“I am.” Arthur’s mind flashed back to the treacherous Pravuil, in the coal cellar, so long ago-or so it seemed. Pravuil had offered allegiance, but he’d never actually sworn it, probably because he’d been working for Saturday or someone else all along.
I’m not making that mistake again, thought Arthur. I know better now.
“You must swear to serve and obey me upon this, the Fourth Key,” he said, holding out the rapier so the blade touched the floor in front of Friday’s Dawn.
Dawn was unfazed by this. He knelt down, clanking and creaking, and took the blade in his gauntleted hands.
“I, Friday’s Dawn, do swear allegiance to Lord Arthur, and shall serve and obey him until I am extinguished or until the end of all things.”
Dawn looked up at Arthur expectantly, waiting for an answer.
“I accept your allegiance, Friday’s Dawn, and confirm you as commander of Binding Junction and the Top Shelf and defender of the Middle House overall.”
“Thank you for your trust in me, milord,” said Dawn as he stood up.
“Good,” said Arthur. “Now, Dawn, we need three ...”
Arthur paused to look at Ugham.
Now is the time to leave him behind, if I’m going to, he thought. But he has been faithful. I have the Key, and allies .... He will look after Fred and Suzy ....
“No, four sets of wings. I have to go find Part Five of the Architect’s Will, and I think it’s up in Friday’s Scriptorium.”
“Immediately, Lord Arthur. Do you want wings such as my Gilded Youth wear? They would size themselves better to you, I think, than the ones the High Guild use.”
“Sure. Only Ugham will need bigger wings from the High Guild. Strangely, Jakem said they didn’t have any.”
“I meant of the sort suitable for your Excellency,” Jakem blurted out. “It is true we have a moldy selection of some old, ridiculously large wings-”
“Who is next in precedence to Jakem?” interrupted Dawn.
“Milka is, sir,” replied Digby. “But she is away with Lady Friday. I suppose I’m next, after her.”
“Then you are presently promoted above Jakem, who is now in your place,” Dawn proclaimed. “I shall expect you to organize matters more efficiently than the former Pressmaster-beginning with the procurement of wings for Lord Arthur’s ... soldiers.”
“I protest!” Jakem screamed to Arthur. “Surely, Lord Arthur, you cannot allow such a travesty of-”
“Dawn is in charge,” said Arthur. “Go away.”
Jakem went. A few minutes later, several Denizens returned carrying a set of wings for Ugham. A few seconds after them, two Gilded Youths arrived carrying three more sets of smaller, but still equally yellow, wings.
The Gilded Youths wore the same armour as Friday’s Dawn, but instead of visored helmets they had golden masks, which completely covered their faces, save for thin eye, nostril, and mouth slits. They were much shorter and slighter than the Denizens, about the same size as Arthur. Seeing them, he suddenly exclaimed, “They’re Piper’s children, aren’t they?”
“Not exactly,” whispered Fred. “They started out that way, but Grim Tuesday got hold of a bunch of them and made them into ... well, what they are ... for Lady Friday.”
“What do you mean, ‘what they are’?” Arthur whispered back. The three Gilded Youths put the wings on one of the empty chairs, saluted Dawn-who was talking to Digby-and left again.
“They’re mostly armour,” said Fred. “I dunno how much of the original child is left inside. Least, that’s what I was always told.”
“It could easily be true,” said Arthur. “It’s just the sort of thing Grim Tuesday would have done. By the way, have you used wings before?”
“Oh, yes,” said Fred. “Only it was before we got washed between the ears .... Still I expect it will come back to me ....”
“I hope so.” Arthur’s own memory had completely returned, or at least he thought it had. But then he had only a fraction of experience to recall compared to Fred, who had lived for at least several hundred years by House time, maybe more. “Well, we’d better get on with it.”
Suzy helped Arthur attach his wings, which grew to size. While he flapped them experimentally, she assisted Fred and Ugham. Arthur belatedly realized that Ugham might not know how to use the wings, but when he asked, the Newnith was already going through a series of exercises with his wings that displayed far greater competence than Arthur had himself. This was because Arthur had only flown once previously, in Grim Tuesday’s Pit.