"Unfortunately not, it seems," said the Will. "He must be more than he seems. A spy for one of the Morrow Days, curse their treacherous hearts. But they cannot do anything here and now. They are bound by the compact with the former Master of the Lower House. They cannot interfere here, or on any Monday in the Secondary Realms. They are your preserves now, Arthur. In any case, we will deal with the Morrow Days in due course. First we must make a solid beginning here. Ah, here comes our ally, Dusk. And with him Noon and Dawn, come to beg for their miserable existences."
Sure enough, the three principal servants of Mister Monday were coming around the side of the villa. Dusk came first, Noon hangdog at his heels. Both showed no physical signs of their battle. Behind them came a gaggle of Inspectors, Commissionaires, and other Denizens, all of them unarmed, save for the Midnight Visitors who marched around them, proudly holding their whips at the salute. Dawn hung close behind.
When the crowd was about twenty feet away and slowing down, fear and apprehension clear on many faces, Arthur raised the Key and they all stopped. He lowered it again and looked out on them.
"I suggest that you reappoint Dusk in his position," said the Will. "As for Noon, I think that I had best take that on for the time being..."
Arthur shook his head. "I'm not staying on as the Master of the Lower House."
A collective gasp went up from everyone except the former Monday, who remained kneeling, his head bent.
"But you have to," expostulated the Will. "You can't just give it up!"
"You mean I'm not allowed or is it actually impossible?" asked Arthur.
"It's impossible!" said the Will. "You are the Heir! Selected by me, proven by challenge. And there is much to be done here!"
"I told you before," said Arthur. "I want a cure for the plague in my world. That's all I want! A cure and to go home."
"You cannot return to the Secondary Realms," said the Will sternly. "Or cure the plague. Remember the Original Law. No interference is allowed, even interference to correct interference."
Arthur stared down at the green frog. Anger swelled up inside him, and he started to raise the Key. He would smash it down on the Will... No. That's not the way to do anything, he thought. I have to stay calm. The Will is a manipulator. I have to work around it.
"You said I could," Arthur said coldly. "Explain."
"No, I merely implied that you could by saying that a great many things were possible if you became the Master. Besides, if you go back to your own time and place without the Key, I expect you'll die."
"But I can change my record, can't I?" said Arthur grimly. "And since no one else seems to follow the Original Law around here, why should I?"
"Even if you happen to be correct about your record and so on," protested the Will, "you can't give up the Key, and, as Master, you must uphold the Original Law."
Arthur looked at Suzy.
"I dunno," said Suzy, pointing to the undertaker-like Dusk. "Ask Dusk."
Arthur looked at Dusk, who took off his top hat and bowed, extending one leg.
"It is true I have some small knowledge, but it pales to insignificance next to the Will's. Monday had some right to the Key as a Trustee, up until it was claimed by a Rightful Heir. It is possible that now no one else can wield it."
"I don't believe I've been through all this for nothing!" Arthur shouted.
"I want a cure for the plague and I want it now."
"The Original Law..." the Will began, but shut up when Arthur turned on it, the Key poised to strike.
"The plague is due to contamination from Fetchers, is it not?" asked Dusk. When Arthur nodded, he continued, "Then it is a simple matter. With your permission, I shall conjure a Nights weeper from Nothing. Taken back to the Realm you once inhabited, it will collect any remnants of contamination in a single night, and return to Nothing with them. That will remove the effect upon both people and place."
"Well. That's a start," said Arthur.
Dusk bowed again, took out a black-bound book and a quill, dipped the quill in an ink bottle a Midnight Visitor proffered, and wrote quickly. Then he tore off the page, walked over to where the ditch had been, rolled the page into a funnel, and plunged it into the dirt.
Nothing happened for a few seconds, then there was a faint whinny from the paper funnel. That was followed by a tiny black horse's head, two hooves and legs, and then a complete horse no more than three inches high. It gave another whinny, stamped its foot, and then stood completely still. Dusk picked it up and handed it to Arthur, who took it gingerly and slipped it into the pocket of his coat.
"It must be set on a window ledge shortly before midnight, with the window open," instructed Dusk. "It will then ride forth, setting all to rights by morning."
Arthur nodded and let out a sigh of relief. This was what he wanted. Now all he had to do was figure out how to get back with it. He sensed that the Will wasn't telling him the whole truth. There had to be a way.
A noise at the door distracted him. It opened to reveal Sneezer, several icicles hanging off his nose. He carried the silver tray, which had a tall, thin bottle upon it and a piece of paper. Sneezer proceeded calmly towards Arthur and offered the tray.
"A drink, milord? A beverage from your native Realm, I believe. Orange juice. Perhaps you are familiar with it? And a document I believe you were looking for?"
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Arthur stared and started to slide the sword through his belt. Only then did he realize he didn't have one. He was standing in front of all these people covered in mud and wearing only a coat and what might be a nightshirt. But he didn't care. He stuck the Key point-first in the grass instead. It quivered there as he picked up the glass of juice and the paper.
As he touched the paper, a name appeared on it in golden type. Arthur Penhaligon.
"My record," said Arthur. "Can I change it so I don't die? What does it say now?"
"I do not know, milord," replied Sneezer. "I cannot read it, now you are Master."
"Can I read it?"
Sneezer didn't answer. Neither did the Will. Arthur looked at Dusk, who shrugged. Arthur shook his head. Why was nothing simple? He drank the juice, gave the glass to Sneezer, and examined the paper. But aside from the name on the outside, it seemed to be blank.
"Well, I don't care what it has on there, or if I can change it," Arthur said finally. "I'm going to go back anyway. I have to use the Nightsweeper. Even if I die."
"You won't," said the former Monday. He didn't stand up and kept his head bowed. "No one in the House can read or change their own record, Arthur. But once you survived your own death, the record will have changed to reflect that. You have borne the Lesser Key for some time too, so it will have strengthened your body. You will not die if you go back. At least not from your lung sickness."
"So I can go back," repeated Arthur. "I am going to go back."
He looked down at the Will. It was sulking near his feet.
"I want you to help me, Will. Forget about the Original Law. How can I get back home?" "You must not go back," said the Will. It puffed itself up to twice its usual size in an effort to impress him with the gravity of its words. "You wield the First Key. You are Master of the Lower House. There are still six imprisoned sections of the Will that must be freed, and six Keys that must be claimed..."
"I'm a boy!" interrupted Arthur. "I want to go home and grow up normally. Grow up to be a man, not a Lord of the Universe or whatever. I don't want to change into an immortal, like the Old One said I would if I keep the Key. Can't I... I don't know, make someone else look after everything till I'm old enough?"
The Will muttered something inaudible.