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       CHAPTER TWO

      “Slain by sorcery?” Arthur asked as they hurried into the elevator. He wanted to make sure he’d heard properly because it was very hard to kill Denizens. “You mean killed? Really dead?”

      Dame Primus gestured at Monday’s Noon, who moved to Arthur’s side and gave a rather foreshortened and cramped bow. They were in a very large elevator, a cube sixty feet a side, but it was completely full of various guards, clerks and hangers-on. In one corner, there was a seated string quartet, playing a soft tune Arthur almost recognised.

      “Really dead,” replied Monday’s Noon, his silver tongue flashing. Apart from his tongue, he hadn’t changed much since he’d been promoted by Arthur from Dusk to Noon. Though he no longer wore black, he still seemed to Arthur to embody the quiet and failing light of the evening in his speech and measured movement. “The former Mister Monday was stabbed through the head and heart with a sorcerous blade, and was not found quickly enough to remedy the damage. The former Grim Tuesday was pushed or thrown into the Pit from the top level.”

      “Are you sure he’s dead? I mean really sure?” asked Arthur. He was having real trouble accepting this news. “Did you find his body?”

      “We found bits of it,” said Noon. “He landed in a pool of Nothing. More than a score of artisans who were working on filling in the Pit saw the impact. It is likely that he too was assaulted by some kind of sorcery before he fell, so he could not cry out or attempt to save himself.”

      “Do you know who killed them?”

      “We do not know,” Dame Primus said. “We can only assume that both knew something about the Morrow Days and their plans that the Morrow Days do not want us to know. It is puzzling that they should do it now, when I have already questioned both the former Trustees at length without uncovering anything of note. It is possible that it is an attempt to cover up some very disturbing news that has come to light from other quarters. We will speak of this in our council.”

      “I want to know about the Spirit-eater,” said Arthur anxiously. “I mean, it’s stopping me from going home, but what else is it going to do? Will it do anything to my family?”

      “I don’t know,” said Dame Primus. “We… that is, I am not a House sorcerer as such. I have called your newly-appointed Wednesday’s Dusk, Dr Scamandros, to the Dayroom to tell us about Spirit-eaters. It appears that he is now the sole Upper House-trained sorcerer to be found anywhere in the Lower House, the Far Reaches and the Border Sea.”

      A bell jangled and the quartet’s strings shivered into silence. But the elevator door didn’t open.

      “Secure the Dayroom,” Dame Primus ordered Noon. He bowed and touched the door, which opened just enough to let him lead out a dozen Commissionaire Sergeants and ordinary Commissionaires. Another dozen remained around Arthur, Leaf, Suzy and Dame Primus.

      “We must be wary,” said Dame Primus. “We can’t let you be assassinated, Arthur.”

      “Me?” Arthur tapped the small trident that was thrust through his belt. “Isn’t the Third Key supposed to protect me from harm?”

      “It is,” agreed Dame Primus. “But whatever killed the two former Trustees was House sorcery of a very high order. Grim Tuesday, in particular, though he had lost most of his power, would not be easy to overcome. So the assassin or assassins might be able to bypass or negate the Key’s protection. And you mortals are very fragile.”

      “Fragile.” Hearing it made Arthur think of eggshells, and then the terrible image of his own head being broken like an eggshell, smashed to pieces by a sorcerous assassin who had crept up behind him—

      Arthur forced this mind picture away with an effort of will, though he couldn’t help looking behind him. All he saw were his own guards but he still felt a tremor of fear flick through his stomach.

      Aloud, he tried to make light of the situation.

      “Great,” he said. “Things just keep getting better, don’t they?”

      “There is more to fear,” said Dame Primus. “We will speak of it soon.”

      “All clear,” Noon reported from outside and the elevator door slid silently open to reveal the entrance hall of Monday’s Dayroom. Architecturally, it looked pretty much like it had last time Arthur had seen it, after the steaming mud pits and iron platforms had been transformed into old-fashioned rooms that reminded him of a museum. But there was a major difference: now there were thousands of bundles of paper tied up with red ribbon and stacked from floor to ceiling all along the walls of the hall. Every ten feet or so these piles would have a Denizen-sized gap, each occupied by a Commissionaire Sergeant standing at attention.

      “What’s with all the paper?” Leaf asked as they walked down the hall.

      No one answered until Arthur repeated the question.

      “The Middle and Upper Houses are bombarding us with paperwork,” said Dame Primus. “It is an effective effort to tie up our resources and impede our reorganisation. Take the next door on the left, Arthur. Sneezer should have everything ready for our council.”

      The next door on the left was also completely surrounded by stacked bundles of paper. It looked ordinary enough, just a simple wooden door with a solid bronze doorknob. Arthur turned the knob and pushed the door open.

      A vast chamber lay on the other side, a room four or five times the size of the gym at Arthur’s school, with a ceiling ten times as high. The floor, walls and ceiling were lined with white marble veined in gold, so that Arthur’s first impression was that he had walked into some giant’s tacky bathroom.

      In the middle of this huge room sat a round table about a hundred feet in diameter. It appeared to be made of cast iron, painted deep red. It was hollow in the middle and around the outside there were a hundred or more tall-backed chairs, also made of wrought iron, this time painted white. One chair had a much higher back and it was either made of solid gold or gilded iron. The chair next to it was also taller, but not quite so much, and it slowly changed colour from red to white to gold and back again.

      Sneezer the butler stood in the open centre of the table, a white cloth over one arm of his now immaculate coat. His once untidy hair was combed back, tied with a gold ribbon and powdered white. He held a silver tray with three crystal tumblers of something orange (probably juice) and a tall wine glass full of a blood-coloured liquid Arthur hoped was actually wine.

      There was no one sitting on the chairs, but there was a large crowd of Denizens behind the table, all standing quietly. Arthur recognised Dr Scamandros and waved, and then he waved again as he saw Sunscorch slightly behind him, looking very fine but somewhat uncomfortable in the admiral’s uniform that was his right as the new Wednesday’s Noon. Soon Arthur was waving all over the place as he recognised Japeth the Thesaurus and Matthias the Supply Clerk standing together, and Monday’s Dawn and Wednesday’s Dawn, and others from his previous adventures – as Leaf might call them – in the House.

      “Take your seats,” bellowed Dame Primus, her voice going all gravelly and low, startling Leaf. “Let this council be in session. Suzanna, you can return the Transfer Plates to the china cabinet before you join us, please.”

      Suzy grimaced, gave a clattering curtsey and ran out, pausing to stick out her tongue at Dame Primus as the Will turned and gestured at the golden chair.

      “That is your throne, Lord Arthur. Everyone else is arranged in order of precedence.”

      “Where do I sit then?” asked Leaf.