‘Don’t tell them our real names,’ said Arthur. He had an unbearably itchy nose, but he couldn’t control his arms enough to be able to scratch it. ‘Tell them... uh... tell them we’re Piper’s children discharged from the Army and we’ve just been washed between the ears and can’t remember our names or anything yet.’
‘Aye, aye,’ said Dartbristle. He went over to a nearby trapdoor and lifted it. As he did, the sound of rushing water – a great deal of rushing water – filled the warehouse.
‘Got to wait a few minutes,’ he said. ‘This is a flood channel – takes an overflow every now and again. Timing is everything, as they say.’
‘Quiet!’ Arthur suddenly ordered. He sat up as best he could with a rubbery neck and cocked his one Rat ear to listen. Amid the sound of the rushing water, he’d heard a distinctive call, and at the same time he’d felt a familiar twinge inside his head.
‘Arthur!’
It was the Will, calling his name. But the voice was distant and fleeting. Even with the others quiet, all he could hear now was running water, the jangle of the moving chain in the shaft, and the more distant thrum of the subterranean engines.
‘Did you hear that?’ he asked. ‘Someone calling my name?’
‘No,’ said Suzy. She looked herself again. Even the torn rags of her Rat breeches and shirt weren’t too out of place on her, considering her normal choice in clothes. ‘Didn’t hear nuthin’.’
‘Nor I, I fear,’ added Dartbristle. ‘And with my ears, I have won many a Hearing Contest in the fleet.’
‘Never mind,’ said Arthur.
It must have been speaking in my head, he thought. Like the Carp did... but from far away. Or perhaps the Will could only escape its bonds for a moment...
The sound of the rushing water died away. Dartbristle waved his hat over his head and jumped down. Arthur and Suzy could hear the splash as he landed in the channel.
‘There’s a window up there,’ said Suzy, pointing to a large iron-barred window of dirty, rain-flecked glass that was set into the riveted iron walls about twelve feet up. ‘If I climb up those bottles, and stand on top of that big yellow one, I reckon I could see outside.’
The window let in a subdued greyish light. Looking at it, Arthur realised for the first time that he must have developed better night vision, because he could see quite clearly, even though the warehouse had only one dim lantern hanging from the high ceiling, and the six windows, all on the same wall, did not admit much extra light.
‘Suzy, how light is it in here?’ he asked.
‘In here? If it weren’t for the windows and that lantern, it’d be dark as a dog’s dinner, inside of a dog, and even with the windows and the lantern it’s not much better,’ answered Suzy, who was starting to climb from one bottleneck to another, stepping across an impromptu stairway to her chosen window. ‘But I reckon it is daytime outside, only it’s raining.’
‘What can you see?’ Arthur was now almost himself, apart from his hands, which were still paws and not under his control. They were twitching and wriggling in a very annoying way and he had already slapped himself in the face several times and would have suffered more if he hadn’t got control of his arms and neck and twisted away. His clothes were also reduced to shreds, which was probably just as well, as they would have been terribly restrictive now that he was back to his full height.
‘Rain,’ said Suzy. ‘And not much else. There’s a very tall building, with lots of green lights.’
‘Ow!’ said Arthur as his paws turned into hands but kept twitching, smacking his fingers against the floor. ‘That’s enough! Stop!’
His hands tingled and stopped. Arthur flexed his fingers and gave a relieved sigh. He was himself again, and everything was under control.
Suzy climbed down and both of them went over to look through the trapdoor. There was a rusted iron ladder that led down to an arched passage lined with small red bricks. A thin trickle of water ran down the middle, but from the dampness of the walls it was evident that the water rose nearly as high as the trapdoor when it was in full spate, as it must have been just a few minutes before the Raised Rat went through.
Suzy immediately started to climb down the ladder, but Arthur pulled her back.
‘Hold on! Let’s wait for Dartbristle. We need proper clothes. Besides, there might be more water flooding through.’
‘I was just ’aving a look,’ grumbled Suzy.
‘How’s that cut?’ asked Arthur.
Suzy looked down and felt her chest through her ripped rags.
‘It’s gone!’ she exclaimed. ‘That was at least a four-day cut, that was!’
‘Healed in the transformation, I suppose,’ said Arthur.
‘Maybe I won’t kick old Doc after all,’ said Suzy cheerfully.
‘I’m glad you’re better.’ Arthur knelt down and peered into the flood channel. Though it wasn’t lit at all, he could see at least thirty or forty feet along it. That made him have a second thought about his eyes, and he sprang back up and looked carefully at Suzy. Her eyes looked the same as ever: dark brown, curious and sharp.
‘Suzy,’ he said. ‘My eyes haven’t stayed like a Raised Rat’s, have they?’
‘Nope. They’ve gone bright blue, but. Wot’s called cornflower blue in the inkworks. Only yours is kind of glowing. I reckon it’s to do with the Keys turning you into... whatever it is they’re turning you into.’
‘A Denizen,’ said Arthur glumly.
‘Nah,’ said Suzy. ‘Not even a Superior Denizen looks like you do. When that Dartbristle gets back, we’d best smear some grease on your face so you’ll pass as one of us.’
I can’t even be mistaken for a Piper’s child anymore, thought Arthur with unexpected sadness.
Suzy cocked her head, sensing his mood.
‘You’ll still be Arthur Penhaligon,’ she said. ‘Not the brightest, not the bravest, but up for anything. Least, that’s how I see you. Kind of like a little brother, only you’re taller than me now.’
She paused and frowned. ‘I think I had a little brother once. Don’t know whether it was here, or back home, or what...’
She stopped talking, and their eyes met briefly. They both remembered the Improbable Stair and their visit to Suzy’s original home, back on Earth, back in time, a city in the grip of the bubonic plague. If Suzy had once had a brother, he’d likely died young and long ago, stricken by the disease.
That reminded Arthur of the plagues back home, the modern ones, and the hospital, and the Skinless Boy who had taken his place, and his brother calling about the nuclear strike on East Area Hospital. He felt a tide of anxiety rise up from somewhere in his stomach, almost choking him with responsibilities. He had to find the Will here, and defeat Saturday, and get back home in time to do something about the nuclear attack before it happened...
‘It’s not a good idea to stop breathing,’ said Suzy, interrupting Arthur’s panic attack. She clapped him on the back and he took a sudden intake of breath.
‘I know,’ he said. ‘It’s just, it’s just-’
‘Ahoy there, children!’
Dartbristle climbed out of the flood channel, carrying a large cloth bag marked LAUNDRY. He tipped it up and emptied a pile of clothes and boots onto the floor.
‘Help yourself,’ he said. ‘Stuff should resize to fit, if it ain’t worn out. I picked up a few sets to be sure.’
The clothes were dirty off-white coveralls that had lots of pockets. Arthur picked up a set, hesitated a moment, then stripped off his rags and put on the coveralls as quickly as he could. The coveralls immediately resized themselves to fit, and several oil stains moved around as well to get better positions, some bickering before they established their pre-eminence.