saluted, spun on his heel and marched away. The orderly stepped forward as the Borderer left. He had a long trumpet by his side, a bronze instrument at least four feet long.
“Sound the general alert,” said Nage. “And officer assembly.”
The orderly raised the trumpet to his lips, pointing it at the wall. His cheeks puffed up and he blew, but no sound came from the trumpet’s bell. It wasn’t until a second later that its peal reached in from outside, echoing here as it echoed in all parts of the fort, no matter how distant.
The trumpeter blew two different calls twice. When the last peals faded, he lowered his instrument and stood at attention.
“How long have we served together, Hopell?” asked Nage.
“Eight thousand four hundred and twenty-six years, sir,” said Hopell. “That’s time in the Legion. Not counting recruit school.”
“How many of our recruit class still live?”
“All but six, I think. Ropresh came good from that Nothing wound in the end, so he doesn’t count. Light duties only of course, with his leg melted off—”
“Do you think we will fight as well knowing that there is a much greater chance than usual that we will get killed?”
“What do you mean, sir?” asked Hopell. “We are legionaries of the Glorious Army of the House. We are prepared to die if we must.”
“Are we?” Nage didn’t sound so sure. “We’re prepared to get hurt certainly, but not many of us get killed – and we always win. I fear that is soon to change. When the four gates open, there will be a battle for the fort, and we will be fighting organised, disciplined Nithlings for the first time. Nithlings who must be led by someone… or something… intelligent.”
“We are Legionaries,” said Hopell stolidly. “We will fight to the end.”
“Yes,” said Nage, “we will. But it may not be an end we like.”
Heavy footsteps sounded outside the door, the beat of a dozen or more officers marching down the corridor, called to the colonel by the trumpet signal.
“Do not speak of my doubts,” said Nage quickly. “It was a moment of uncertainty, no more. We will fight and we will win. The Nithlings will fail before the fort, as they will be defeated elsewhere in the Great Maze by our Glorious Army.”
“Yes, sir!” shouted Hopell. He saluted as the first of the officers marched in, several others hard at their heels.
“Gather round,” said Nage quickly. “We don’t have much time and we must organise a defence. I have received and confirmed an order to open all four Gates – yes, all four gates. Shortly after that happens, I expect the fort to be attacked by several hundred thousand organised Nithlings. We must hold out for twelve hours, when we are ordered to shut the gates again. Whatever else happens – no matter what casualties we suffer – the switch room must be held and the gates must be closed on time.”
“Surely it’s not that bad, sir,” suggested one the centurions with a little giggle. He was a recent replacement, who had spent the last thousand years at GHQ. His cuirass was bare of gallantry medals, but had several stars awarded for efficiency in managing House paperwork. “Once they come out of the Goldgate, they will have to climb up the ramps under a rain of power-spears and firewash from the engines on the bastions, get through the fort’s own gates… We’ll easily hold them. They will not stay organised, anyway. Nithlings always run wild—”
“I am glad of your confidence, centurion,” interrupted Nage. “You may have the honour of commanding the Forlorn Hope I am placing at the base of the ramp.”
The centurion’s bracer clash acknowledging this order was less strident than it should have been, quiet enough that the chime of the Colonel’s watch was louder.
“Twenty minutes. I shall take five to outline my plans and then you will return to your units. I will command from the Switch Room myself. Our battlecry will be—” The colonel hesitated for a moment then said, “Death and the Legion!”
His words were echoed immediately by the gathered officers, their shouts making the tea cups on the colonel’s sideboard rattle.
“Death and the Legion!”
“Hurry up!” Arthur Penhaligon called out. “We have to get to the Front Door before Dame Primus shows up and tries to talk me out of going home.”
“OK, OK,” grumbled Leaf. “I just stopped to look at the view.”
“No time,” said Arthur. He continued to lead the way up Doorstop Hill, moving as quickly as his crab-armoured leg would allow him. His broken bone was still not fully healed.
Leaf started after him, with a glance over her shoulder. They’d run straight out of the elevator that had taken them down… or across… or sideways… from Port Wednesday on the flooded shores of the Border Sea. She hadn’t had any time to look at anything in the Lower House.
“There’s the Front Door!” Arthur pointed up ahead to the huge, free-standing door that stood on the crest of the hill, supported by two white stone gateposts that were about thirty feet apart and forty feet high.
“That’s a door?” asked Leaf. “Must be tough to push it open.”
“It doesn’t exactly open,” said Arthur. “You just walk in. Don’t look at the patterns on it for too long though.”
“Why not?”
“You’ll go crazy,” said Arthur. “Or get stuck looking.”
“You know I’m going to have to look now,” said Leaf. “If you hadn’t said anything I probably wouldn’t have bothered.”
Arthur shook his head. “You can’t help it. Just don’t look too long.”
“Which side do we go to?” Leaf asked when they were only a few yards away. “And do we knock?”
“It doesn’t matter which side,” said Arthur. He tried to look away from the wrought iron curlicues and patterns on the door but couldn’t quite manage it. After a second, the shapes shivered and began to change, each image fixing itself in his head before it morphed into something else.
Arthur shut his eyes and reached out blindly towards Leaf, planning to tug her elbow or the back of her shirt. But she was much closer than he had thought and his questing fingers poked her in the face.
“Ow! Uh… thanks.”
Arthur turned his head away from the door and opened his eyes.
“I guess I was getting hooked,” Leaf said as she rubbed her nose. She kept her eyes averted from the door, instead looking up at the high domed ceiling of silvery metal that reached its apex several
