She looked down at Arthur, and at the unscathed Doctor Scamandros, who had come up next to him, and at Captain Catapillow, who Arthur hadn't even seen around, but was now bowing and scraping and mumbling.
"Doctor Scamandros?"
Her voice was cold and clear. It made Arthur's ears hurt slightly, as if they were being touched by an icy breeze.
"Yes, ma'am. I am Scamandros."
"I received your message. Introduce me to Lord Arthur. I am in a hurry."
Scamandros bowed to her, indicated Arthur with his right hand, and bowed again to both of them.
"Lord Arthur, may I present Lady Wednesday's Dawn?"
Arthur bowed. He had already half-guessed the identity of their surprise guest. She had the hauteur that all the chief servants of the Trustees possessed. A kind of look that said, I am superior and you had better admit it.
"Greetings, Lord Arthur," said Wednesday's Dawn. "Please accept Lady Wednesday's apologies for the sad miscarriage of our transport arrangements. Unfortunately I have not yet been apprised of the exact nature of the incident that led you here, but I trust that you are now ready to accompany me to the promised luncheon?"
Arthur looked up at Dawn's beautiful but cold face.
She would cut my throat if ordered to, Arthur thought. But what choice do I have?
"I'm not sure," he said aloud. He still had his sword on his shoulder, and Sunscorch's advice about dealing with Feverfew would probably apply equally well to Wednesday's Dawn. He tensed, ready to strike, as he slowly said, "I've heard some scary talk about how Lady Wednesday is kind of... well, you know... a giant whale that eats everything. And I don't want to get eaten."
"It is a temporary indisposition," said Dawn. She looked at Scamandros and Catapillow. "Which those of lesser orders would do well not to gossip about. However, you may be assured that Lady Wednesday intends to resume her traditional human form for this luncheon. That is in indication of the importance given to your visit, Lord Arthur. It is currently a regrettable strain for milady to take human shape. She has not chosen to do so for many centuries."
"What does she want from me?" asked Arthur. There seemed no point beating around the bush. "She's in with the Morrow Days. She's a Trustee who didn't do what she was supposed to. I'm the Will's Rightful Heir."
"These are not matters to discuss in public," sniffed Dawn. "Is it enough to say that my mistress recognises a need for negotiation, not battle?"
"Maybe," said Arthur.
"Excellent. Then I take it, Lord Arthur, that you are ready to come with me?"
"Where exactly?"
"Back to the House," said Dawn. "To the Border Sea. I have many duties, so we must not waste any time. Do you need to breathe?"
"What?"
"Do you need to breathe? You are a mortal of sorts, are you not? If I am to carry you back, we shall spend large amounts of time underwater. If you have not already been ensorcelled to need less air, then I shall have to take care of that before we depart."
"I'm not and I don't think I want to be," said Arthur. "I have asthma and I don't want my lungs messed up any more with magic or anything. And I don't want to turn into a Denizen."
"It is a very straightforward spell," said Dawn. She gave a small flick of her riding crop, as if to illustrate how small a matter it was. "It merely allows you to survive on far fewer breaths. Perhaps, Doctor Scamandros, you can allay Lord Arthur's concerns. You are a university-trained sorcerer, I note, though I do not recall your name and station in the Index of Navigator-Sorcerers in the employ of Lady Wednesday."
"Ah, dear lady, I was a volunteer after the Deluge," said Scamandros. He made some nervous shuffling motions and almost tripped over his own feet. "So the paperwork may be a little, that is, not quite in order. But, as to the breathing spell, it is one of suspension, I take it? Perhaps the formulation known as "A Thousand and One Breaths"?"
"It is a peg, purchased at Port Wednesday," said Dawn, removing a small cloth bag from her sleeve and proffering it to Scamandros. "I am unaware of its provenance. I believe it is worn on the nose."
Scamandros took the bag, opened its drawstring, and emptied a small wooden clothespeg onto his palm. He held it up to Dawn's light and looked at the tiny writing on it with his unaided eyes and through his smoked-quartz glasses.
"It is a straightforward spell," he said to Arthur. "One breath will serve for a thousand, till it wears off. There will be a little magical residue, but far less than that already within your flesh and bone."
Arthur took the clothespeg dubiously and opened and shut it, feeling the strength of the spring.
"How will I know when it wears off?"
"It will fall off your nose," said Doctor Scamandros. "You may take it off, of course, and reapply it — though in that case I should be careful not to be too far away from a source of air. It will work less and less well with each reapplication."
"Can't the Moth take me to meet Lady Wednesday?" asked Arthur. "I don't think I want to use this spell. Or be carried underwater. No offence, it's just I don't like the idea."
"Time is of the essence," said Dawn. "Lady Wednesday cannot hold her human shape long, and the luncheon is scheduled to begin at noon, House time, on the day I left. We must hurry. No ship can carry you there in time, and unless I am mistaken, this "Moth" needs considerable work. I also have numerous important tasks that need my attention. The Border Sea must be constantly tended, lest it spread into the Realms, or conjoin with Nothing."
"Do you swear that I will be returned somewhere safe after meeting Lady Wednesday?" asked Arthur. "Swear by the Architect, and the Will, and Lady Wednesday."
Wednesday's Dawn scowled and her riding crop whistled back and forth through the air. But finally she said, "Yes. I shall do everything in my power to ensure you are returned to a place of safety after your luncheon with Lady Wednesday. I swear this by the Architect who made me, by the Will, and by my mistress, Lady Wednesday."
"Okay," said Arthur. "I guess I'd better go."
He looked at Doctor Scamandros, who shuffled again and bent his head close to Arthur.
"Captain Catapillow thought it best to inform Miss Dawn," muttered the sorcerer softly so only Arthur could hear. "Not wanting the Moth to be entangled in things beyond us, and afraid of what the Red Hand you bear might bring. I have to follow orders, you know. But I made sure your letter went first. Only Miss Dawn was already looking for you."
Arthur shook his head, but when Doctor Scamandros offered his hand, the boy sheathed his sword and took it. He still wasn't sure if the Denizen was lying, but Doctor Scamandros had fixed his leg up. Hopefully Arthur's letter really was going to Dame Primus.
"A pleasure to have you aboard the Moth," said Captain Catapillow, who was practically hunched over with his constant bowing to both Arthur and Wednesday's Dawn. "Farewell."
Arthur nodded but didn't offer to shake hands. He looked around instead. There was Sunscorch up by the cannons, surrounded by what looked like the whole crew, gathered in close to stare at the luminous Dawn.
"I won't be long," Arthur said. He raced up the beach to the Second Mate. This time, he did offer his hand, which was taken in a firm grip and shaken so soundly that his shoulder ached.
"Thanks, Sunscorch," said Arthur. "For picking me up from the buoy and everything."
"Fare thee well," said Sunscorch. "Mention Second Mate Sunscorch of the Moth to the Mariner, if you ever walk a deck with him again."
"I will," Arthur promised. He saw Ichabod standing primly amid a gaggle of tattooed, unkempt salvagers and waved.