'Wow,' he said. It wasn't much, but it was all that he could think of.
'The Klothians won't go near it,' said Gurder. 'They think it is haunted by spirits.' 'I don't blame them,' said Grimma, shivering. 'Oh, it's just superstition,' said Gurder. His face was white and there was a tremble in his voice. 'There's nothing to be frightened of,' he squeaked.
Masklin peered at him.
'Have you ever been here before?' he asked. 'Oh, yes. Millions of times. Often,' said Gurder, picking up a fold of his robe and twisting it between his fingers.
'So what do we do now?' Gurder tried to speak slowly but his voice began to go faster and faster of its own accord: 'You know, the Klothians say that Arnold Bros (est. 1905) waits at the top, you know, and when nomes die-' Grimma looked reflectively at the rising stairs, and shivered again. Then she ran forward.
'What're you doing?' said Masklin.
'Seeing if they're right!' she snapped. 'Otherwise we'll be here all day!' Masklin ran after her. Gurder gulped, looked behind him, and scurried after both of them.
Masklin saw her run towards the rising bulk of a stair, and then the floor below her came up and she was suddenly rising, wobbling as she fought for balance. The floor below him pushed against his feet and he rose after her, one step below.
'Jump down!' he shouted. You can't trust ground that moves by itself!' Her pale face peered over the edge of her stair.
'What good will that do?' she said.
Then we can go and talk about it!' She laughed. 'Go where? Have you looked down lately?' Masklin looked down. He was already several stairs up. The distant figure of Gurder, his face just a blob, screwed up his courage and jumped on to a step of his own...
Arnold Bros (est. 1905) was not waiting at the top.
It was simply a long brown corridor lined with doors. There were words painted on some of them.
But Grimma was waiting. Masklin waved a finger at her as he staggered off his stair, which mysteriously folded itself down into the floor.
'Never, ever, do anything like that again!' he shouted.
'If I hadn't, you'd still be at the bottom. You could see Gurder was scared out of his wits!' she snapped.
'But there could have been all sorts of dangers up here!' 'Like what?' said Grimma haughtily.
Well, there could be ...' Masklin hesitated. 'That's not the point, the point is-' At this point Gurder's stair rolled him almost to their feet. They picked him up.
'There,' said Grimma brightly. We're all here, and everything's perfectly all right, isn't it.' Gurder stared around him. Then he coughed, and adjusted his clothes. 'I lost my balance there,' he said. 'Tricky, these moving stairs. But you get used to them eventually.' He coughed again, and looked along the corridor. 'Well, we'd better get a move on,' he said.
The three nomes crept forward, past the rows of doors.
'Does one of these belong to Prices Slashed?' said Grimma. Somehow, the name sounded far worse up here.
'Urn, no,' said Gurder. 'He dwells among the furnaces in the basement.' He squinted up at the nearest door. 'This one is called Salaries,' he said.
'Is that good or bad?' said Grimma, staring at the word on the varnished wood.
'Don't know.' Masklin brought up the rear, turning slowly to keep all the corridor in view. It was too open. There was no cover, nothing to hide behind.
He pointed to a row of giant red things hanging halfway up the opposite wall. Gurder whispered that they were buckets.
'There's pictures of them in Colin and Susan Go to the Seaside,' he confided.
'What's that written on them?' Gurder squinted.' "Fire",' he said. 'Oh, my. The Abbot was right. Buckets of fire!' 'Fire in buckets?' said Masklin. 'Buckets of fire? I can't see any flames.' 'They must be inside. Perhaps there's a lid. There's beans in bean tins, and jam in jam jars. There should be fire in fire buckets,' said Gurder vaguely. 'Come on.' Grimma stared at this word, too. Her lips moved silently as she repeated it to herself. Then she hurried after the other two.
Eventually they reached the end of the corridor. There was another door there, with glass in the top half.
Gurder stared up at it.
'I can see there's words,' said Grimma. 'Read them out. I'd better not look at them,' she added sweetly, 'in case my brain goes bang.' Gurder swallowed. 'They say "Arnold Bros (est. 1905). D.H.K. Butterthwaite, General Manager." Er.' 'He's in there?' she said.
'Well, there's beans in bean tins and fire in fire buckets,' said Masklin helpfully. 'The door's not shut, look. Want me to go and see?' Gurder nodded wretchedly. Masklin walked over to the door, leaned against it, and pushed it until his arms ached. Eventually it swung in a little way.
There was no light inside, but by the faint glow from the corridor through the glass he could see he was entering a large room. The carpet was much thicker it was like wading through grass. Several meters away was a large rectangular wooden thing; as he walked around it he saw a chair behind it. Perhaps this was where Arnold Bros (est. 1905) sat.
'Where are you, Arnold Bros (est. 1905)?' he whispered.
Some minutes later the other two heard him calling softly. They peered around the door.
'Where are you?' hissed Grimma.
'Up here,' came Masklin's voice. 'This big wooden thing. There's sticking-out bits you can climb on. There's all kinds of things up here. Careful of the carpet, there could be wild animals in it. If you wait a minute, I can help you up.' They waded through the deep pile of the carpet and waited anxiously by the wooden cliff.
'It's a desk,' said Gurder, loftily. 'There's lots of them in Furnishing. Amazing Value in Genuine One Hundred Per Cent Oak Veneer.' What's he doing up there?' said Grimma. 'I can hear clinking noises.' 'A Must In Every Home,' said Gurder, as if saying the words gave him some comfort. 'Wide Choice of Styles to Suit Every Pocket.' 'What are you talking about?' 'Sorry. It's the sort of thing Arnold Bros (est. 1905) writes on the signs. I just feel better for saying it.' What's that other thing up there?' He looked where she was pointing. 'That? It's a chair. Swivelled Finish For That Executive Look.' 'It looks big enough for humans,' she said thoughtfully.
'I expect humans. sit there when Arnold Bros (est. 1905) is giving them their instructions.' 'Hmm,' she said.
There was a clinking noise by her head.
'Sorry,' Masklin called down. 'It took me a while to hook them together.' Gurder looked up at the heights, and the gleaming chain that now hung down.
'Paperclips,' he said, amazed. 'I never would have thought it.' When they clambered to the top they found Masklin wandering across the shiny surface, prodding things with his spear. This was paper, Gurder explained airily, and things for making marks.
'Well, Arnold Bros (est. 1905) doesn't seem to be around,' Masklin said. 'Perhaps he's gone to bed, or whatever.' 'The Abbot said he saw him here one night, sitting at the desk right here,' said Gurder. 'Watching over the Store.' 'What, sitting on that chair?' said Grimma.
'I suppose so.' 'So he's big, then, is he?' Grimma pressed on relentlessly. 'Sort of human-sized?' 'Sort of,' Gurder agreed reluctantly.
'Hmm.' Masklin found a cable as thick as his arm winding off across the top of the desk. He followed it.
'If he's human-shaped and human-sized,' said Grimma, 'then perhaps he's a-' 'Let's just see what we can find up here, shall we?' said Gurder hurriedly. He walked over to a pile of paper and started reading the top sheet by the dim light coming in from the corridor. He read slowly, in a very loud voice.
'"The Arnco Group,"' he read, '"incorporating Arnco Developments (UK), United Television, Arnco-Schultz (Hamburg) AG, Arnco Airlines, Arnco Recording, the Arnco Organization (Cinemas) Ltd, Arnco Petroleum Holdings, Arnco Publishing, and Arnco UK Retailing plc."' 'Gosh,' said Grimma flatly.