Four of the Will is, and then with its help, we can—”
“Safe? I’ll be in the Army! What if I get sent into a battle or something? What if Sir Thursday just kills me?”
Dame Primus shook her head.
“He can’t just kill you. Once you’ve been recruited, he’ll have to follow his own regulations. I suppose that he could make things very unpleasant for you. But they do that to the recruits anyway.”
“Fantastic. What about the assassins that killed Mister Monday and Grim Tuesday? What if they kill me?”
“Hmmm. In fact, this could work to your advantage, Arthur. No assassin from the Middle or Upper House would dare attack you among your comrades in the Great Maze, and a Denizen from the Incomparable Gardens would be very obvious and give you time to get away or think of something. You would be out of the way, and comparatively safe, while we get on with things.”
“I beg your pardon, Dame Primus, but there is one thing Sir Thursday could and probably will do if he knows Arthur is among his recruits,” Monday’s Noon interrupted. “My own service was long ago, but I have not forgotten it. Arthur will probably be safe enough during his first year of training. But after that, he could be posted to the Borderers or to the Mountain Fort, where there is always fighting with the Nithlings. As a mortal, he would stand in much more danger in battle than any Denizen.”
“What if I just don’t go?” Arthur asked. It was seeming like the best choice. “I mean, come on. There has to be some benefit to being Master of the Lower House and Duke of the Border Sea and all that. I mean, Sir Thursday couldn’t draft Mister Monday or Grim Tuesday or Lady Wednesday, could he?”
“Yes, he could,” said Monday’s Noon. “If they had not already done their service.”
“But I refuse to—” Arthur began to say. He was interrupted by a loud knock on the door. A Commissionaire Sergeant poked his head in and cleared his throat.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” he said to Dame Primus. “Lord Arthur, there’s a recruiting sergeant here. Says he’s on official business and he’s got the right papers. He’s not carrying any weapons. What should we do?”
“We have no choice,” said Dame Primus. “Sir Thursday has the power to do this. Delay him for a few minutes, then let him in. Arthur, you had best give me the Third Key now.”
“You’re just going to hand me over?” asked Arthur.
“We have no choice,” Dame Primus repeated. The Agenda flicked over a few pages and she ticked something with her pen, an action that made Arthur even more furious. He couldn’t see it, but he knew it had to be an item that said something like, “Keep Arthur safe and out of the way.”
“I’m keeping the Third Key,” he said loudly. “I’ll probably need it.”
“If you keep it then you will be giving it to Sir Thursday,” said Monday’s Noon. “Recruits aren’t allowed to have any personal possessions. Everything you need is issued to you.”
Arthur stared at Noon. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Everyone was just accepting that he was going off for a hundred years of service in the Army of the House.
“I’m not going,” he said. He held up the Third Key like a weapon. Sensing his mood, it grew longer and sharper, till he was holding a trident as long as he was tall, its tines as long as his forearms. “And anyone who tries to make me is going to suffer.”
“Twice,” added the voice under the table.
“I’m afraid that won’t work, Lord Arthur,” said Dame Primus. She was still irritatingly annotating her Agenda and she didn’t even look up at Arthur. “The Keys are only sovereign in their own demesne, though they are of equal puissance in the Secondary Realms.”
“What does that mean?” asked Arthur.
“The Third Key only has its full powers in the Border Sea, the Second in the Far Reaches and the First in the Lower House,” explained Dr Scamandros. “They all work in the Secondary Realms, where they are of equivalent power. Except, I believe for the Seventh Key, which is paramount—“
“Time is short, Lord Arthur,” interrupted Dame Primus. She shut the Agenda with a businesslike clap. “If you are going to relinquish the Third Key to me, it must be done now.”
“But I don’t want to go into the Army,” said Arthur. The anger was leaving him now and he just felt sad and alone, his only ally still hiding under the table. “Especially not for a hundred years! There must be some way I can get out of it.”
“If you can find the Fourth Part of the Will and gain the Fourth Key, then you can take Sir Thursday’s place as commander and release yourself,” said Monday’s Noon.
“We will, of course, also continue to search for the Fourth Part of the Will ourselves,” said Dame Primus. “Once we find it, we may be able to help you.”
“I’ll come with you, Arthur,” said Suzy. She crawled out from under the table, sat down in Leaf’s chair and drank what was left of the other girl’s orange juice, before adding, “It can’t be that bad.”
“You shall do no such thing,” said Dame Primus. “You have a job to do here, as Monday’s Tierce.”
“No one ever volunteers for the Army,” said Monday’s Noon. “Everyone gets drafted. Besides the Denizens originally made to be soldiers, I mean. I’m not even sure it’s possible to volunteer.”
“I reckon if Arthur wants me to go along then it is my job,” said Suzy. “I kind of remember that I might have been in the Army before. I was probably drafted ages ago and did my time, only it’s got washed out from between my ears. Maybe it’ll come back. I can help Arthur find Part Four of the Will anyway.”
“Thanks, Suzy!” exclaimed Arthur. He felt enormously better. Having Suzy along would make all the difference. “I do want you to come. You always cheer me up, not to mention helping me. I suppose… if I’ve got to go, I’d better get on with it.”
He got up, taking the Third Key, and went over to Dame Primus. She slid out of her chair and bowed to him. When she straightened up, Arthur was struck by just how much taller she was, now that she contained three parts of the Will. She was well over seven feet tall, perhaps even eight feet tall now, and up close he could see tiny words crawling everywhere over her skin and clothes. There were hundreds and thousands of tiny old-fashioned type letters in constant movement, changing colour as they moved to become skin or clothes. Every now and then Arthur could just make out a word or a fraction of a phrase, things like, “The Will is the Word and the Word is—” Looking at her was a bit like examining a banknote, where you could only see all the tiny engraved detail that made up the images if you were up close.
“Do you recall the words, Lord Arthur, to appoint me Steward of the Third Key?”
“No,” said Arthur. “You start and I’ll say them after you.”
“Very
