Which worried him a lot, particularly when no more gobbets came hurtling up out of the darkness. Did that mean he was out of their reach, or that they had combined into something that was somewhere nearby, flying up with him? Something touched his leg. Arthur flinched and cried out, till he realized it was just his useless lantern, brushing against his knee. He opened his hand and let it fall, the glass sending one last reflection back before it disappeared into darkness.
A second later, there was the sound of broken glass and an angry cry, partly muffled by rain and Arthur's beating wings.
"Ow!"
"Suzy!" Arthur called again. But as he called out, and relief rose in his heart, a nasty thought crept into his mind. Maybe there was some sort of Nithling that could imitate people? What if there was one that could take the shape of people it had dissolved or eaten? He had a vague half-memory of someone talking about that, or maybe he had read it in the Atlas?
"Suzy?" he repeated, looking down. "Is that you?"
"'Course it's me!" came the retort. Arthur still couldn't see her, but she sounded closer. "Almost took my eye out, you idiot! There's enough rubbish in this hole without you chucking some more down."
That did sound like the sort of thing Suzy would say, Arthur thought. But what if the Nithling had absorbed her mind and memories, and had gotten all her vocabulary and word choices and everything?
He wished he could see her, but at the same time was afraid that he would see the distorted man-shape with the insectlike wings beating in a frenzy as it tried to catch up.
"What happened?" Arthur asked. He caught a glimpse of something below, but couldn't quite make out what it was. "The Nithling -"
"Missed me," called out Suzy. "Close-run thing. Bit off my right clog. I was kicking it in the teeth, so I's'pose that's fair."
Arthur relaxed. It had to be Suzy, narrowly escaped.
But if it's Suzy, why aren't her wings glowing like mine?
"Better dim your wings!" Suzy called out, almost exactly as Arthur thought this. "The light's making Nothing come together into gobbets. Once there's enough of them around, they'll make a Nithling."
"How do I know you're really Suzy?" Arthur called in return, a slight edge of panic in his voice.
"What are you talking about?" came the exasperated reply. "Who else would I be? Shade your light!"
"Don't listen to her!" called another voice, one that also sounded like Suzy, but huskier. "Keep your light up, it's the only thing protecting you from the Nithlings!"
"Tarnation!" said the first Suzy voice. "The thing that got my clog has patterned itself on me. Must have found a bit of toenail or skin."
"Don't listen, Arthur!" came the other Suzy voice. "I'm the real Suzy! Keep your light on, I'm catching up!"
Arthur stared down at the darkness. If only he could see the speakers, he was sure he'd be able to tell which one was the real Suzy. But there was nothing?
"Arthur, tell your stupid wings to dim, and look out! That Nithling will get above you and swoop down at your face. It's blind, but it smells the power behind the light!"
Arthur blinked. That voice came from the left, and was accompanied by a faint sparkle of light, like a single distant star seen on a cloudy night.
"That's a lie! The light protects you!" screamed the second Suzy voice, from off to the right, and closer.
"Wings, please dim your light," said Arthur softly, and he raised the remnant of his copper tube and held it out like a sword before his face.
He was only just in time, as a nightmarish thing crashed into the tube, hurtling Arthur in a series of backwards somersaults, his wings thrashing to right themselves. The pipe was torn from Arthur's grasp as it stuck like a harpoon into the Nithling's breast. The creature plummeted past him and into the depths, shrieking.
Mid-somersault, Arthur caught a horrific vision of a figure the size and general shape of Suzy, but made from scales and patchwork crocodile hide. One of its fifteen-foot dragonfly wings beat so fast it blurred, while the other hung limp and useless with Arthur's pipe stuck into the chest muscles that powered it.
"How could you telllllll?"
Suzy's fingernail, thought Arthur. That faint sparkle of light.
Arthur's wings got him upright and level again, and resumed their steady, aireating pace. They did not brighten, keeping the light at about the same level as that shed by a couple of birthday cake candles, so Arthur could hardly see his own hands.
"That was close," said Suzy.
"Very," said Arthur. "I know it's you, Suzy, but can you just brighten up your wings for a second so I can be sure? I'd hate to burn you into cinders with my power by mistake."
He said the second sentence louder than the first, in case it was another Nithling. It might get scared off.
"Oh, all right," said Suzy. Then she added in a louder voice, "Anything to avoid being incisorated."
Light bloomed a mere twenty feet below Arthur's feet, and he saw Suzy looking up at him. She winked, lifted her hands above her head, and pushed her palms together to make herself into an arrow shape. In response, her wings beat faster. She leaned to the left and rapidly drew up level with Arthur, a few feet to the side.
"Incisorated?" asked Arthur.
"Dunno," said Suzy with a shrug. "It sounds scarier, though, don't it? Incinerated is what they do with dead papers out on the Waste Waste, back home in the Lower House. That wouldn't scare me, not up here. Where's your incinerator?"
"I wish I was back home," said Arthur.
"So do I," replied Suzy briefly. "Wish I had one, let alone being there. Keep an eye out for more Nithlings. Too many gobbets flitting about below. They seem to be attracted to the wings. I'd wondered why no one ever used them here."
"What?" asked Arthur. "You knew no one ever used wings here?"
"Sure," said Suzy. "I just thought they were dumb plodders. Look, there's the train!"
She pointed. Arthur squinted into the dark and for a moment thought he saw a tiny spray of what might be sparks somewhere in the distance. Then he was plunged into a thick cloud, and even his wings couldn't keep all the moisture from him.
"An hour or so of cloud and then into the smoke next," said Suzy cheerfully. "Worse than Dame Primus's cigars. Old bat won't give me one, neither."
"Smoking will kill you with throat or lung or mouth cancer or heart disease," said Arthur, an asthmatic and the son of a doctor. "Not to mention years of bad breath, yellow teeth, brown fingernails, lungs full of tar so you cough like a cat throwing up hairballs, only the sputum is worse than hairballs."
"Well, you might be right about the yellow teeth and the fingernails, but smoking won't kill you in the House," said Suzy. "Unless you nick one of Dame Primus's cigars."
"Well, smoking will kill you back in my home," said Arthur. "Where I intend to be again as soon as possible. Where I should be? where I would be now, if it wasn't for the Morrow Days and the bits of the Will and everything."
"It could be worse," said Suzy.
"How?"
"You could have the Will stuck down your gob. It used to throb in my throat and make me feel like I'd got a bit of rice pudding stuck halfway down. Horrible, it was."
"And we're going to get another piece of it. If we can find it."
"It might be a better bit. Nicer. We'll find it. Has to be in the Grim's Treasure Tower, doesn't it?"
"Why?" asked Arthur gloomily.
"Stands to reason, doesn't it? Grim Tuesday's famous for stuffing 'is tower full of the best things ever made and the most valuable loot from the Secondary Realms. 'Course the Will will be in there somewhere."
"It can't be as easy as that," said Arthur.
"Well, we do have to get in there," said Suzy. "Through the wind vane and all. Might be a bit tricky, even with the stickit fingers. Then there'll be guards and so forth, I's'pose."