"Suzy! They let you join after all?" he whispered out of the corner of his mouth. "And you've already made corporal?"
"Not exactly," said Suzy. "It's a bit complicated, but basically I got here, and they had a bit of trouble working out what to do with me. For a couple of hours they were going to shoot me as a spy. But it turns out I was in the Army before. I did my hitch four hundred years ago and have been in the Reserve ever since! Not that I can remember it, though a few bits and pieces are coming back now. I told them I'd just got cleaned between the ears and was a bit confused, and then this order came for all Piper's children to report, no exceptions, so the major who was in charge said "good riddance" and sent me along. The important thing is, Arthur, I've got the –"
"Atten-hut!"
An immaculate Regimental Sergeant-Major, her scarlet sleeves adorned with laurel wreaths and crossed swords, had entered the room. She marched over to the Piper's children, ramrod-straight, her boots clicking in perfect rhythm on the floor, a silver-pointed ebony pace-stick under her arm.
"Close up that gap, soldier!" she snapped, pointing to the hole Suzy had left. She halted in front of the two lines, did an about-turn, and saluted the Denizen who had just followed her in.
He was considerably less splendid than the RSM, wearing what looked like exactly the same kind of Regimental private's uniform as Arthur's, with the addition of two black epaulettes that were each adorned with a circle of six tiny golden swords. This struck Arthur as odd, since the Recruit's Companion said a marshal was only supposed to have five. The only other alteration to the private's uniform was that instead of a pillbox hat he wore a kind of black beret with a golden sword badge pinned to it. The badge looked too big for the beret, depicting a very old-fashioned hand and a half sword, with a serpent coiled around the hilt.
He had small, deep-set eyes and was not particularly handsome for such a superior Denizen. He wasn't all that tall either, being only six foot six or so, and was perhaps half as wide across the shoulders as Sergeant Helve. All in all, he was not physically intimidating. But there was something about those dark eyes, the flat-lined mouth, and the lift of his chin that made Arthur immediately fear him.
"Stand them at ease," this Denizen ordered the RSM.
"Stand at ease!" repeated the RSM at several times the other Denizen's volume.
The Piper's children stood at ease, none of them out of time. Even Suzy got it right.
"I am Sir Thursday," said the Denizen. The faintest ripple went through the ranks as he said that, but no more.
Arthur stared at the air in front of him, not even daring to move an eyeball. But though his body was still, his mind was racing, trying to work out what might happen and what he could do.
"I am going to explain to you a plan I have," continued Sir Thursday. "Then I am going to ask for volunteers."
He paced up and down as he spoke, then suddenly stopped and looked out the window on the far side of the room.
"Marshal Noon was to explain the plan, but he has suffered an indisposition. He may be joining us later. Sergeant-Major! The mapboard."
The RSM marched across the room and picked up the black screen, carrying it back to a position in front of the Piper's children. Then she marched around to stand near Suzy, so she could also watch the presentation.
Sir Thursday walked over to Arthur and took the bayonet from the bayonet frog on Arthur's belt. Arthur didn't move and didn't look, even as he heard the foot-long blade slide free.
Surely he won't stab me in front of everyone, he thought desperately. Dame Primus said he would obey his own regulations. He won't stab me – "I shall borrow this for a moment, Private," said Sir Thursday. "To use as a pointer."
He turned to the mapboard and flourished the bayonet.
A glowing yellow line appeared where he indicated, and another. Quickly, Sir Thursday sketched a square.
"This is the Great Maze," he said. He added an X down in the lower right corner. "This is the Citadel."
Then he drew a small circle right in the middle of the square.
"And this is the absolute centre of the maze, a point called five hundred/five hundred. Who can tell me the only possible way to get a strike force from the Citadel to point five hundred/five hundred by midnight tonight, given that the tiles have stopped moving? It is three hundred miles away and there are perhaps two hundred and fifty thousand New Nithlings in the way."
He turned to face them.
"Anyone? How about you, Private? Green, isn't it?"
"Yes, sir," croaked Arthur. He wasn't sure if he should play stupid or give an honest answer, because he had immediately thought of one way to get there. "I suppose … that the only way would be via the Improbable Stair."
"And the natural conclusion one would draw from that?"
"That very few … uh … Denizens even know about the Improbable Stair, and fewer still can travel it," said Arthur. He had a bad feeling about where this was going. "I don't know how many soldiers someone able to use the Improbable Stair could take with them."
"Very good," said Sir Thursday. "You are commissioned herewith as Second Lieutenant Green. In the Regiment, unless you have a preference for the Horde."
"No, sir," said Arthur.
What is he up to? he wondered. He's setting me up for something.
"The obvious question is, why would a force need to be sent from the Citadel to point five hundred/five hundred?" Sir Thursday continued. He started to tap the mapboard with the bayonet. "The answer is simple. Because ultimately I must obey my political superiors in the House, this campaign year I was compelled to change my plans and allow a vast number of Nithlings into the Great Maze. Nithlings who, unbeknownst to me, are New Nithlings, practically Denizens. They are trained, disciplined, and well-equipped, and they are led by someone powerful and very clever, someone probably assisted by traitors within my very staff, someone who has uncovered one of the secrets of the Great Maze and with a lot of treacherous help has managed to put a great big spike of stabilised Nothing straight into the master position at point five hundred/five hundred!"
Sir Thursday drove the bayonet into the mapboard with his last words, ripping and tearing at the wood with unbelievable ferocity. When he had reduced it to pieces, he impaled the remains with the bayonet, leaving the weapon quivering in a broken board.
He took a deep breath before turning back to face the parade.
"I find this annoying, as you can see. That spike has sorcerously frozen a tile at point five hundred/five hundred. This is the master position of the maze, and if it is unable to move, no tiles can move. Consequently, I will be leading a force via the Improbable Stair to point five hundred/ five hundred. As the vast majority of Denizens are simply rejected by the Stair, I must take Piper's children, who the Stair always accepts, and I am looking for twelve volunteers. We will go via the Stair, destroy the spike, and return on the Stair. Sergeant-Major!"
The RSM marched back out the front, drew in a deep lungful of air, and bellowed, "All those wishing to volunteer for a special assault via the Improbable Stair take one pace forward!"
Twenty-two
ARTHUR WAS TOO recent a product of recruit school. Even as his mind tried to tell him to think about it, his legs reacted like a galvanised frog to the word of command. He took one pace forward. So did Fred and, after a slight hesitation, Suzy. Peering across from the corner of his eye, Arthur could see at least another ten had stepped forward too. But that meant half the Piper's children hadn't volunteered.