‘Concentrate, Arthur! Call me!’ said Part Six.
Arthur dove forward and broke into his fastest freestyle stroke.
‘Arthur! I can’t escape without you!’
Arthur ignored the raven and swam faster, piercing the water like a dolphin. But even though he was swimming faster than he ever had, after a dozen strokes he was no closer to the side, and after a dozen more, he felt himself being pulled very strongly back. Rolling over, he was pushed sideways as well. As he swirled about, he felt a powerful tug at his ankles.
He was in a whirlpool. The water was running out of the tank, and he was going with it.
‘Suzy!’ yelled Arthur. The water had sunk so quickly and he was being twirled around so fast that he could only see Suzy’s head. ‘Use your wings. Fly aw-’
Water filled his mouth. Flailing wildly, Arthur barely managed to get himself above the surface again. The suction was incredible, the action of tons and tons of water drawn into a ten-thousand-foot-high drain. Desperately he looked back, but he couldn’t see Suzy, only the glitter of Artful Lounger swords, and through water-filled ears he heard the crash of metal and shouts and a single, cut-off scream.
Then he could only think of himself. He was drowning, his lungs filling with water as he was inexorably dragged below the surface. All his fears of a long, slow underwater death were coming true.
He scrabbled at his belt pouch, thrusting his fingers in to touch the Fifth Key through the bag, not trying to get it out, for if he did, he knew he would lose it for sure. He felt its power, weak though it was through the shielding metalcloth, and focussed his mind to use its sorcery, only to be flung around so violently that his arms were twisted behind him and he was up-ended, diving headfirst down the drain.
Water completely filled his lungs and the last, pathetic bubble of air left his mouth.
I refuse to die, thought Arthur. I am no longer human. I am the Rightful Heir of the Architect. I am going to breathe the water.
He opened his mouth and took a deep, refreshing intake of water. All his choking sensations vanished, and his mouth, twisted moments ago in a panicked, silent scream, smoothed into something that was not quite a smile. He took another breath of water and pirouetted so he was upright, rushing feetfirst rather than headfirst down what must be an enormous pipe.
Suzy was probably only taken prisoner, he told himself. I’ll survive this and rescue her. It will be all right...
The water rushing him down suddenly changed direction. Arthur hit something very, very hard. He screamed, but no sound came out, just a blast of water from his mouth. Then he was picked up again and slammed even harder, bumping and scraping as the water surged and corkscrewed, carrying him with it.
Still screaming, Arthur curled up into a ball to protect himself – and, like a ball, was swept on and on, down and along the huge stormwater pipe that switchbacked its way through and down ten thousand feet.
It took half an hour for the water to reach the bottom. In that time, Arthur was smashed a hundred times against the sides of the pipe. He hurt terribly, all over, but the awful passage that would have killed any mortal at its beginning did not kill him.
At the bottom, the huge pipe spat out a waterfall that cascaded into a vast, under-floor lake, carved out of the bulwark rock under the Upper House. Arthur fell through the waterfall, sank to the bottom, and just lay there until the pains that wracked him diminished from the level of blinding stabs to a steady, debilitating ache.
It still hurt to move, but Arthur forced himself to swim up to the surface. Breaking out of the water, he was afraid he might not be able to breathe air, but he could, and it felt no different from when he was breathing the water.
Arthur wearily trod water and looked around. He could see the huge pipe and the waterfall that still cascaded from it, but little else. There was fog, or steam, obscuring everything. As the water drained from his ears, he became aware of sound, the dull, repetitive thud of mighty engines.
Back under the floor, he thought. In the middle of a lot of water. Must be the Central Rain Reservoir...
‘Part Six?’ Arthur croaked. ‘Will. Are you here too?’
A raven head emerged from the water, but it was not glossy and black, and there were blank lines where parts of it were missing. It opened its beak and croaked, ‘Most of me is here, Lord Arthur, but some fragments are yet to arrive. In fact, I believe the few paragraphs that make up my tail are still falling as rain and will not arrive here for an hour or more.’
‘I doubt we’ve got an hour,’ said Arthur. ‘I was overconfident. Scamandros warned me that they could track any sorcery I did. I just didn’t think calling you would count.’
‘Saturday must have devoted a very large number of her Denizens to watch for any signs of sorcery,’ said the Will. ‘It is surprising, since she is also massing her forces to assault the Incomparable Gardens. If we are fortunate, that battle will have commenced and will serve as a distraction. In any case, we are a long way under the floor here, and her servants do not like to venture into this region.’
‘The Ratcatcher Automatons do, though,’ said Arthur. ‘Can you pull yourself together from anywhere in this pool?’
‘Why, yes,’ said the Will. ‘Why?’
‘You can do it from near solid ground, then. I have to get out of the water. I feel like I’ve been run over by a mammoth. Which way is the closest shore?’
‘Follow me,’ said the raven head, and it began to move away. It looked quite horrible, just the head of a bird and part of its neck, gliding across the water without obvious means of propulsion.
Arthur swam slowly and wearily behind it, thinking about Suzy and Leaf. He felt as if he’d abandoned both of them, but he hadn’t meant to. It was just how things had worked out.
Not that that’s an excuse, he thought gloomily. Maybe Suzy’s okay – they probably just took her prisoner. And maybe time has stayed stopped for Leaf. It seems so cowardly to wait for the Will and then take it back to the Citadel... but what else can I do?
The steam clouds ahead parted to show a long stone quay or platform that was only a few inches above the water level. Arthur dragged himself up onto it and collapsed. The Will watched from the water and began to flex the beginnings of its left wing.
Arthur hadn’t lain there very long when he heard something other than the steady hum and clank of the steam engines. A more surreptitious noise – like someone sweeping the floor, accompanied by a faint patter of feet and the suggestion of a whistle...
He sat up and looked along the quay. The whistle was very quiet, but he thought he knew what it was, and his guess was confirmed as Dartbristle emerged out of the steaming mists. The Rat was holding a small crossbow in one hand and dragging a net full of something behind.
‘Dartbristle!’ Arthur called out.
The Raised Rat jumped, dropped the net, and lifted his crossbow with both hands.
‘Lord Arthur! What are you doing here?’
‘I got washed down a drain. But I’m glad to see you. I need some directions. What are you doing?’
Dartbristle was aiming the crossbow at him, while also shaking his head. Arthur saw with horrid fascination that the crossbow bolt had a head made of Immaterial Glass, like a sealed bottle, and a tiny piece of Nothing writhed inside.
‘I’m sorry, Lord Arthur. I wish you weren’t here! I have the strictest orders-’
‘No!’ shouted Arthur.
Dartbristle pulled the trigger, and the Nothing-poisoned bolt sped straight for Arthur’s chest.
EIGHTEEN
ARTHUR DIDN’T HAVE time to think or duck. He didn’t need to. Without any active thought on his part, he leaned aside and caught the bolt as it passed, right in the middle of the shaft. The Nothing bottle on the end remained unbroken.