“Stop!” roared Arthur. He raised the baton of the Fourth Key high, hands steady in the gauntlets of the Second Key. “Keys, bring Friday to me! And you Denizens, leave the Mariner alone!”
Arthur’s voice echoed throughout the crater. It did not sound like a boy shouting, but a great lord calling for his servants to do his bidding.
Lady Friday jackknifed in the air as she tried to fly back to her balcony. Still holding the mirror with its cargo of experience, she was carried backwards as if blown by a wind, landing in an unladylike sprawl in front of Arthur. More sleepers tumbled out of her way, but she paid them no heed.
“So, you got out,” she said to the Will conversationally. “This boy managed what you could not yourself.”
“That is so, madam,” said the Will. “And now it is time for you to relinquish your charge to this same boy, who is not a boy at all, but Lord Arthur, the Rightful Heir.”
“I am ready to do so,” said Friday. “But may I just taste a little more? I am defeated, I know, but only as a mortal can I truly know the feeling of defeat. Give me just a few minutes more, let me enjoy the rich textures of mortal life once more-”
“No,” said Arthur. He sheathed the baton and held out his hand. “I, Arthur, anointed Heir to the Kingdom, claim the Fifth Key-”
Friday screamed and tried to tip the mirror to her mouth, rainbow threads falling everywhere around her face. Arthur spoke more quickly, gabbling out the words.
C4-.. and with it the demesne of the Middle House. I claim it by blood and bone and contest out of truth in testament and against all trouble!”
The mirror flew from Friday’s hand into Arthur’s. She shrieked again and hurled herself after it. Arthur dodged aside, hurtling farther than he intended due to the lesser gravity. Friday whirled to try again, but the Will, grown larger again, gripped the back of her neck with its sharp bat teeth and shook her till thin rivulets of blue blood ran down her shapely neck.
Arthur looked for a moment at the rainbow-hued mirror in his hand and then at all the sleepers. He felt no sense of triumph. He felt sick in his heart, hollow and defeated.
“I suppose my mom’s here somewhere,” he said. “We were just that little bit too late.”
Dr. Scamandros coughed and raised his hand. “Ahem, Lord Arthur, I believe it may not be entirely too late. The great majority of the extracted experiences must still lie within the Key. It is possible they can be returned. Friday would know best.”
Arthur turned to Friday, who hung limp and silent in the Will’s jaws. “Is it possible to return the experiences?” he asked.
“Perhaps,” said Friday dully. “I do not know. If it lies within the power of the Key, it can be done. I am no sorcerer.”
“Arthur, the Mariner is signalling,” said Fred.
Arthur looked up at the crater. He could make out the Mariner clearly now, and he felt a small surge of happiness when he saw that the small figure by his side was Leaf.
“Arthur!” roared the Mariner, his seagoing voice of command almost as loud as Arthur’s sorcerously magnified shout had been. “There are dangerous plants getting in! Order Friday’s Denizens to repel boarders!”
“What?” Arthur shouted back. “Dangerous what?”
“Plants!” shouted the Mariner, and Leaf too, from the look of it, though her voice was totally drowned out.
The Denizens who were circling above heard it clearly. All but one swooped down towards Arthur and for a second he thought they were going to attack. But they halted to hover a good distance away, and one of them spoke.
“Lord Arthur, may we go to fight the plants at once? If their way in is not stopped promptly, we will be swamped.”
“Go and fight the plants,” ordered Arthur. Then he looked up and said, “Hey, where have Friday’s Noon and Dusk gone?”
“Lord Arthur, if I may interrupt,” said Scamandros. “There may be a time factor in returning the experiences. A degradation may occur if it is not done quickly-”
“Right!” said Arthur. “How do I put the experiences back?”
Scamandros looked doubtful and the tattoos on his cheeks changed from books with turning pages to a wild tangle of question marks that began to fight one another.
“The Keys shortcut much sorcery,” he said. “If you assume the position Lady Friday took when taking the experiences, and simply ask the Fifth Key to replace the stolen experiences, it may work. Unfortunately, to discern a more rigorous technique would take me days or weeks.”
“Give me your wings, Fred,” Arthur said quickly. “Stick them on. Thanks. Don’t let Friday go, Will. Suzy, keep an eye out for Friday’s Noon and Dusk. They should know they’re beaten, but ...”
He flexed the wings and leaped into the air, careful to hold the Fifth Key level. He knew that it wasn’t like a cup and he probably couldn’t spill the contents, but it didn’t hurt to be careful.
The silver chair was sunk, though Arthur could see it through the clear blue water. So he stood on the stone pillar and faced the direction Friday had. Seeing all the sleepers standing and swaying all around him, he couldn’t help but search for his mother’s face. Was she here? Were there other people he knew?
“Hurry!” called out Scamandros, who was looking closely at the back of one of the sleeper’s heads.
Arthur took a deep breath, raised his arms as he had seen Friday do, and concentrated his thoughts on the Fifth Key. Just to be sure, he also spoke aloud, though quietly, so only he could hear.
“Fifth Key, return the experiences you hold to these poor people, so that they are just as they were before Friday stole their precious lives. Repair their memories and give back all their happinesses-”
He paused for the briefest instant, wondering whether that was all they needed, but in that same moment knew that it was not. He would not himself be content to have only his happy memories.
“-and all their sorrows. Thank you.”
The Key flashed with multicoloured light, and streamers exploded out from Arthur’s hand, snaking back across the silver-mirrored lake to connect with all the sleepers, making for just a few seconds a brilliant shining lattice of every colour of the rainbow.
Then the streamers were gone and the mirror in Arthur’s hand grew dull. As the sleepers still swayed and shuffled in their places, Arthur spread his wings and flew back to the others.
“Did it work?” Arthur shouted in dismay as he landed. “They don’t look any better!”
Scamandros leaned back from the head he was inspecting, pushed his glasses farther up his forehead, and shouted back, “Yes! Most, if not all, of the stolen experience has been returned. The sleep is a different matter, merely an instruction from Friday, easily broken. But I suggest we leave them asleep until they can be returned.”
“You have done well, Arthur,” said the Will, who had spat out Friday and was now content to keep her wrapped under one wing. The former Trustee did not complain or struggle. She sat there, staring into space, her eyes unfocused. “Very well indeed.”
Arthur was not listening. He was already aloft again, flying over the crowd, searching for his mother.
“That’s a dozen gold roundels you owe me, Fred,” said
Suzy. “Told you we’d get back to Arthur and get the Fifth Key before we got a decent cup of tea.”
“We got a cup of tea at Binding Junction,” protested Fred.
“Not a decent cup,” said Suzy. “That was poison.”
“I wonder how we are going to get all these people back to where they belong,” said Scamandros. “And now that I think of it, I wonder how we are going to get back. I forgot to pack a Transfer Plate!”
Chapter Twenty-Six
“She’s not among the sleepers in the crater,” Arthur said an hour later. The silver chair had been fished out of the lake and set up on the shore, and he was sitting on it, as the centerpiece of an impromptu court or council of war. “Leaf, are you sure this Harrison fellow would know if she was here?”