over the room there was the sudden whine of savage-swords, and the acrid, ozone smell of lightning-charged tulwars as everyone drew their weapons.
Arthur couldn’t even see what his guards had reacted to until he stood on tiptoe and looked over the locked shields to see that someone had appeared only a few feet in front of where he’d been standing.
That someone was a tall, slight, female Denizen clad in a very unmilitary flowing robe made of thousands of tiny silver strips that chinked as she moved. Over that beautiful garment she wore a thick leather apron with several pockets, out of which protruded the wooden handles of weapons or perhaps tools. This strange ensemble was completed by the silver branch she held in her right hand, from which a dozen small cylindrical fruits of spun gold hung suspended, tinkling madly as half a dozen Denizens threw themselves upon her.
“I’m a messenger!” she shouted. “A herald! Not an assassin! Look, I’ve got an olive branch!”
“Looks more like a lemon branch,” said the Legionary Decurion as he twisted it out of the Denizen’s grasp. He looked over at Arthur. “Sorry, sir! We’ll have her out of here in a moment!”
“I’m an emissary from Lady Friday!” shouted the silver-robed Denizen, who could hardly be seen amid the scrum of soldiers. “I insist on an audience with Lord Arthur!”
“Wait!” Arthur and Dame Primus called out at the same time.
The legionaries stopped dragging the sudden visitor away, though they kept a very firm grip on her.
“Who are you?” demanded Dame Primus at the same time that Arthur asked, “How did you get here?”
“I’m Emelena Folio Gatherer, Second Grade, 10,218th in precedence within the House,” declared the Denizen. “I have been sent as a herald to Lord Arthur with a message from Lady Friday, who sent me here through her mirror.”
“Through her mirror?” asked Arthur, as Dame Primus said, “What message?”
Arthur and Dame Primus looked at each other for a long moment. Finally the embodiment of the Will lowered her chin very slightly. Arthur turned back to Emelena.
“What mirror?”
“Lady Friday’s mirror,” said Emelena. She added hesitantly, “Am I correct in assuming that I address Lord Arthur?”
“Yes, I’m Arthur.”
Emelena mumbled something that Arthur correctly thought was about expecting him to be taller, more impressive, have lightning bolts coming out of his eyes, and so on. Ever since someone in the House had written a book about Lord Arthur, every Denizen he’d met had been disappointed by his lack of heroic stature and presence.
“Lady Friday’s mirror,” asked Arthur. “It can send you anywhere within the House and the Secondary Realms?”
“I don’t know, Lord Arthur,” replied Emelena. “I’ve never been sent anywhere before. Usually I’m a senior page collator of the Guild of Binding and Restoration in the Middle House.”
“Friday’s mirror is known to us, Lord Arthur,” said Dame Primus through pursed lips. She looked around the room, then pointed to a highly polished metal shield that was one of the trophies hung on the wall. “Someone take that shield down and put it in the dark.”
She paused to watch several Denizens dash forward to carry out her orders, then continued, “Friday’s mirror is akin to the Seven Dials in the Lower House. Powered by the Fifth Key, she can look out or send Denizens through any mirror or reflective surface, provided she has been there before herself by more usual means. Which does make us wonder when and why Lady Friday has come here before to meet with Sir Thursday. However, what is of most importance now is the message Lady Friday sends. I trust it is her unconditional and total surrender?”
“After a fashion,” said Emelena. “I think. Perhaps.”
This time, Arthur was silent, while Dame Primus drew in her breath with an all-too-snakelike hiss.
“Shall I tell you the message?” asked Emelena. “I’ve got it memorised.”
“Go ahead,” said Arthur.
Emelena took a deep breath, clasped her hands together and without looking directly at Arthur or Dame Primus, began to speak a little too fast and without emphasising the punctuation, though she did stop every now and then to draw breath.
greetings lord arthur from lady friday trustee of the architect and mistress of the middle house i greet you through my mouthpiece who is to deliver my words exactly as i have spoken them knowing full well that you seek the fifth key and will stop at nothing to get it as saturday and the piper will likewise do
and in the interest of a quiet life pursuing my own researches into aspects of mortality i have decided to abdicate as mistress of the fifth house and leave the key for whomsoever might find it and wield it as he or she sees fit
i ask only that i be left alone in my sanctuary which lies outside the house in the secondary realms with such servants as choose to join me there my messengers have gone to saturday and the piper bearing this same offer
whoever of you three can find and take the key from where it lies within my scriptorium in the middle house is welcome to it the key shall accept you or saturday or the piper the fifth part of the Will I also leave in the middle house and I take no further responsibility for its incarceration but shall not release it either lest it take the Key itself
my abdication shall take place upon the moment all three of you have read this message and at that moment this act shall be recorded on the metal tablet my messenger also bears
Emelena stopped, took a deep breath and bowed. When she stood up, she added, “I have the metal tablet in an envelope here, Lord Arthur.”
She took a small but heavy buff-coloured envelope out of her apron pocket and held it out to Arthur. He instinctively reached for it and his fingers had just touched the envelope when Dame Primus shouted, “No! Don’t take—”
Her warning came a fraction of a second too late, as Arthur’s fingers closed and Emelena’s let go. As he took the weight, Arthur felt a sudden surge of sorcerous energy erupt out of the package. The envelope blew apart in a shower of tiny confetti and Arthur had a fraction of a second to see that what he was now holding was a small round plate made of some highly burnished silvery metal.
Then everything around him vanished, to be replaced by a sudden rush of freezing air, the nauseous shock of disorientation and the sudden fearful realisation that he was falling… followed seconds later by his sudden impact with the ground.
Arthur lay stunned for several seconds. He wasn’t hurt, but was seriously shocked from the sudden shift from where he’d been to where he was now, which was flat on his back in a deep drift of snow. Looking up, all he could see were large, puffy grey clouds and some
