There was a loud thock, and the Denizen suddenly crumpled to the ground. The raven jumped off the back of his head and dropped the cobble it had just used to great effect.
‘What were you talking to him for?’ it asked. ‘Should have just bopped him one.’
‘I was going to,’ protested Arthur as he bent down to take off the unconscious Denizen’s coat. ‘He just looked so sad and pathetic.’
The coat and boots adjusted themselves as Arthur put them on, but they weren’t a bad fit to start with. Arthur looked down at himself and wondered if he’d grown even taller, possibly just in the last few minutes, because he needed to look like a Denizen. If the Will thought that he could pass for a Bathroom Attendant, he must be now almost six feet tall. Almost as tall as his basketball star older brother, Eric, he realised, a stab of melancholy passing through him.
Eric might already be dead; he’ll die when the hospital is bombed and the city goes with it. I shouldn’t be this tall, not for years yet. I feel like my old self is slipping away... faster and faster... and I can never be normal again.
He’d just finished dressing, had transferred his precious bag to his coat pocket, and was picking up the black umbrella when the door suddenly flung open. The Will, quick as a flash, transformed into a blanket and threw itself over the unconscious Denizen on the floor.
A sorcerer with a yellow umbrella looked in.
‘Hurry up, idiot!’ she shouted at Arthur. ‘We’re boarding the assault ram! Come on!’
She stood there, watching as Arthur pulled the brim of his hat lower to hide his face and eyes, and tried to think. When he didn’t move, she scowled and gestured with her umbrella.
‘We haven’t got all day! I’ll put you on report in a minute. Woxroth, isn’t it?’
‘Sorry,’ mumbled Arthur. He started over to her, thinking that he might drag the Denizen inside and shut the door, and the Will could konk her with its cobble. But there were more sorcerers looking in from behind her, their attention drawn by her shouting. So instead he just stumbled out the door. As he shut it behind him, he caught a flash of movement, and shuddered as he felt the Will run up his sleeve in the shape of something like a cockroach.
The waiting Denizens were no longer an unruly crowd, staring up at the bronze rocket. They were lining up in a long queue that zigzagged back and forth through the square. The head of the line was at the assault ram, and the Denizens there were climbing the external ladders on the solid bronze part and forming up in ranks on the different floors.
Arthur joined the line, the last in the long queue. The Denizen in front of him, another Sorcerous Supernumerary, looked back at him for a moment, but only gave a mournful sigh and trudged on. Arthur copied her pose, dragging his feet and keeping his chin tucked almost to his chest so his hat shielded his face.
It took quite a while to get to the rocket. Arthur had time to estimate the number of sorcerers climbing into the assault ram. By the time they all got on, he reckoned, there would be five thousand sorcerers on board. Most of them were full sorcerers too, some of them with umbrellas of gold and silver, which meant they were from higher levels he hadn’t even seen. And right at the top, where they might have been all along, there were dozens of Denizens wearing the shiny satin top hats of Internal Auditors, the same as the ones the Piper had killed in Friday’s eyrie in the Middle House. A contingent of Artful Loungers, in one of the middle levels, sat at the side of the rocket and kicked their legs through the bars.
As they approached the base of the ram, Arthur saw that there was a rainbow umbrella sorcerer checking everyone off a list. But even worse than that, there was also a very haughty-looking seven-foot-tall Denizen dressed in an immaculate silver tailcoat, night-black breeches, and super-reflective boots. He had a dove-grey greatcoat of seven capes draped over his shoulders, and any raindrops that got within a few feet of this sizzled themselves out of existence.
It’s got to be Saturday’s Dusk, thought Arthur. He’ll spot me for sure... and then there’s five thousand sorcerers here to finish me off.
Trying to act casual, Arthur raised his hand to his face and scratched his nose. With his mouth partially covered, he hissed, ‘Will!’
An albino cockroach with Will written on its back in red letters crawled up Arthur’s wrist and into the palm of his hand.
Think to me, said the Will, silently. You don’t need to talk.
Oh, yeah, replied Arthur. I forgot. That’s Saturday’s Dusk up ahead. I think I need you to distract him. Take the shape of a Raised Rat, maybe, and run away. Then you’d better go rescue Suzy, because I’m not going to get the chance-
You don’t know that, the Will replied. Also, I don’t think Saturday’s Dusk will know you. There’s too much sorcery around for him to sniff you out. That bronze thing there is reeking with it, not to mention the platform it’s on. They’ve got two hundred and fifty executive-level sorcerers preparing to lift that thing, you know. Just keep your head down.
I still want you to go and rescue Suzy! Arthur insisted. Go now, while there’s still a chance.
No, said the Will into Arthur’s head. My job is to find the Rightful Heir, and now that I have, I’m sticking with you. We might even get a chance at the Key. Anything can happen now, with the Piper’s Army below and Sunday’s insects above.
I want you to go and rescue Suzy! I order you to do so!
‘Name?’ asked the gold-umbrella sorcerer.
Arthur dropped his hand, and the Will ran up his sleeve.
‘Uh, Woxroth,’ muttered Arthur.
‘Last and least,’ said the sorcerer. ‘Get up the ladder and find your place.’
As Arthur scrambled up the ladder, the sorcerer turned to Saturday’s Dusk, who had fastened a monocle in his right eye and was staring at the paved floor.
‘Loading almost complete, sir.’
‘Not a moment too soon,’ replied Dusk. ‘The Piper’s forces have finished landing and are moving up. Well, they may have the Floor. They will not get far up the tower, and we will soon be in the Gardens.’
‘Are they as beautiful and wondrous as they say?’ asked the sorcerer as he started to climb, with Noon coming up after him. He was about fifteen feet behind Arthur, and the boy could hear every word.
‘We will soon see,’ said Dusk. ‘Time we began, I think.’
He held on to the ladder with one hand and cupped the other around his mouth, calling out to another gold-umbrella sorcerer who stood watching in the nearest corner cupola on the platform.
‘Take her up!’ shouted Dusk. ‘All the way to the top!’
TWENTY
THE SORCEROUS SUPERNUMERARIES were on the lowest level of the rocket, immediately above the solid brass case. In between the holes in the wicker floor, Arthur could see the metal. He didn’t want to think about what might be packed inside the lower half of the rocket. Some kind of propellant, he assumed. It was clear that the assault ram was going to be fired at the underside of the Incomparable Gardens, and the most likely place for that to happen was from the top of the tower.
Arthur was lucky to be one of the last aboard, because that meant his position was right up against the bars. The Denizens were packed in shoulder to shoulder, but he could turn around and see outside.
There was no talk among the sorcerers around Arthur. He looked out through the bars at the sorcerers in one of the corner cupolas on the platform below him. They were slotting their gold and silver umbrellas into holes in the ironwork. When the umbrellas were set, they turned the handles sideways to make them into something like music stands, and all together they placed open books upon the handles and, without any visible or audible signal, began to write with peacock-feather pens.