Keys To The Kingdom_ Sir Thursday Part 8

Leaf looked inside the pipe. There were beads of moisture all over the steel lining, but it wasn't full of water. Looking up, she could see that other pan els had been removed, and cold white fluorescent light was s.h.i.+ning in.

Looking down, it was dark and the pipe was blocked. But as Leaf's eyes adjus ted, she saw that the blockage was a big box mounted on a swiveling ring tha t had little wheels all around its edge. The box had probe-arms that touched the sides of the pipe, and there were warning stickers on it that Leaf coul dn't quite make out in the dim light.

It was some sort of remote-controlled device for inspecting the pipe. It had electric motors too, driving the four biggest wheels, as well as a whole bunc h of electrical and other cables hanging below it.

"Not here!" shouted the voice down the corridor. "Check all the rooms."

Leaf hesitated, tucked the box with the pocket into her waistband, and wriggle d into the pipe, standing on the inspection unit. It rocked within its ring, t hen started to slowly slide down into darkness, taking Leaf with it.

Alone, pressed in on all sides, accompanied only by the sound of her beating h eart and the faint whirr of the inspection unit's wheels, Leaf felt the sides of the pipe get wetter and wetter, triggering an instant of total panic.

What if there is water down below, and I go straight into it?

Rational thought fled. Leaf clawed the sides of the pipe and pressed her bac k against the metal, trying to slow her descent. But the metal was too water -slick, and the inspection unit kept going down, taking Leaf with it.

A light swept down from above. Leaf looked up, but the flashlight beam fell short of her.

"Nothing!"

The guard's voice echoed down the pipe, from at least fifty feet above. Leaf stared up at the light, choked with panic, desperately trying to draw a breat h so she could scream for help, fear now overriding her desire to escape with the pocket.

The scream suddenly became a stifled grunt as a dim red light spilled in fro m the side. Leaf just had time to throw herself against an open inspection p ort and grab hold of the lip before the wheeled unit continued on its way do wn.

As Leaf hung there panting, she heard a splash below and then a glug-glug-g lug as the inspection unit continued down the riser, into deep water.

Two seconds later, the weary but relieved girl pulled herself up and slithere d out onto the floor of a narrow tunnel filled with pipes, cables, and all th e other circulatory systems of a major modern building. She lay there for sev eral minutes, gathering her strength, then sat up and looked around.

As above, the inspection panel here had been unbolted. In this case the nuts had been put in a plastic bag taped to the panel.

The tunnel stretched off as far as she could see to the left and right, but th at wasn't far, because there were only the small, dim red lights in the ceilin g every fifteen yards or so. It was also extremely cluttered, with only just e nough s.p.a.ce between all the pipes and cables for a small adult to crawl along.

That was plenty of room for Leaf. She chose a direction at random, checked t hat she still had the box with the pocket, and started crawling.

Chapter Eleven

I can't let them wash me between the ears," said Arthur. "There's not much choice," said Fred gloomily. "Even if you hide, they always find you. We'd better start getting ready."

"There must be a way to avoid it," Arthur insisted. "And what do you mean 's tart getting ready'?"

"Start writing down the important stuff," said Fred. "You know, name, frie nds, favorite color. Sometimes it's enough to bring some memories back. Of course, if we had some silver coins and some salt"

"We could even forget our names?" In Arthur's weary state it was only just beginning to hit home that cleaning between the ears could be even worse th an he'd thought. He'd been worried about forgetting some details about his life on Earth, or his family, or the Morrow Days and the Keys not that he might entirely forget who he was.

"You must have been cleaned quite recently if you can't even remember that,"

said Fred. "If they do a complete job you'll forget everything about yourse lf. And they don't care if you were only done yesterday, they just do you ag ain."

"What was that about silver coins and salt?"

"A silver coin under the tongue is supposed to help resist the was.h.i.+ng," said Fred. "And salt in the nose. But we've got neither, so we'd better start writi ng. I really hope I don't forget how to read this time. It's going to set back our training too. I'll never make general if I get washed between the ears to o often. Come on."

He marched back to the beds, Arthur following more slowly and out of step. But no NCOs appeared to berate him. As far as he could tell, it was the mid dle of the night and their appointed wake-up time would be in only three or four hours.

Despite his weariness, Arthur followed Fred's lead and got out a service no tebook and scarlet pencil with the platoon name on it in gold type. But whi le Fred wrote busily, Arthur wondered about what he should put down. If he wrote his real name and other important stuff, someone might see it.

In the end, he compromised by starting his list with Ray Green and then put ting underneath it Real name? and then AP. After that, he put down his favo rite color, which was blue, his parents' first names, Bob and Emily, and hi s brothers' and sisters', Erazmuz, Staria, Patrick, Suzanne, Michaeli, and Eric. Arthur thought for a while, then added Suzy TB, Leaf, and Mister Mond ay, Grim Tuesday, and Drowned Wednesday. If those names didn't trigger memo ries, he'd be in a really bad state.

He wanted to write more, but he felt faint. The paper was swimming around or maybe his vision was. He managed to lose a few seconds in between writ ing Drowned and Wednesday, waking with a start as his chin hit his chest. So he closed the notebook, slid the pencil into its pocket, and lay back o n his bed. He told himself he'd just sleep for a little while, maybe half an hour, and then he'd wake up and write some more.

The next thing he knew, he was being shaken awake by Fred. Groggily, Arthur swung his legs out of bed and stood up. There were trumpets blasting out lon g, irritating notes, and only half of the hurricane lanterns were lit. Fred thrust a towel and a leather case into Arthur's hands.

"Come on! We have to wash and shave."

"But I don't shave"

"Neither does anyone else, really. Hair doesn't grow much in the House. But we have to try. Regulations."

Arthur stumbled after Fred. In a dim, more-asleep-than-awake way, he was su rprised that they were walking, rather than marching, and heading for a doo r he hadn't seen before, on the east side of the barracks.

The door shone slightly with a faint greenish light. When Arthur stepped thro ugh it into a narrow, dark corridor, he almost lost his balance, the floor wo bbling under his feet like jelly. He threw out a hand to steady himself on th e corridor wall, and that gave way under his fingers.

"This is a weirdway!" he protested.

"Yes," Fred agreed. "It leads to the washroom."

A few steps later, though as far as he could tell he'd pa.s.sed no other door, Arthur came out into a truly vast washroom that had no roof. The night sky above was brilliant, with strange constellations of stars that looked too cl ose, and a rather unsteady crescent moon that cast a pale green light. Arthu r stopped where he was, momentarily stunned by the unexpected night sky and the sight of endless lines of Denizen soldiers stretching out as far as he c ould see in the moonlight, standing in front of equally endless lines of mir rors and washbasins, each one lit by a naked gas flame above the mirror.

The Denizens were mostly stripped to their undervests, but even these varied with their units. The uniforms' trousers, kilts, or leggings included every kind Arthur had in his cupboard, plus a few more he hadn't seen before.

"We share the washroom with the whole Army," said Fred. "Come on, let's fi nd our spot. You need to get some cold water on your face, I think."

He set out on a diagonal path, walking right through a couple of Legionary Denizens and their washbasins and mirrors, as if none of them were there, a nd they were all just ghostly images. The Legionaries ignored Fred, but Art hur saw them talk to one another, though he heard no sound.

"Hold on!" Arthur yelled. "Where are we? How come you just walked thro ugh them?"

"Oh, they're not real to us, or us to them," said Fred. "Corporal Axeforth explained yesterday morning. We just have to find our washbasins. They won' t be far away."

He kept walking. Reluctantly, Arthur followed, flinching as he stepped thro ugh the Legionaries. Fred was still ahead, pa.s.sing through a couple of buff -coated Artillery Denizens. On the other side, there was a row of vacant wa shbasins, and to either side of them, some other Recruit Denizens. They tur ned to look as Arthur and Fred arrived, and Arthur heard the gurgle of the water in their basins and the c.h.i.n.k of razors laid down on the porcelain.

"But how does this work?" asked Arthur. "Are they all here or not?"

"The corp wasn't all that informational," Fred said as he opened his leathe r case and removed a cutthroat razor, brush, soap, and lathering bowl. "Som ething about weird-ways leading to lots of different washrooms that coexist in the same place within the House but offset in time. Saves on hot water or some such."

Fred started to whip up a lather in his bowl. Arthur shook his head, then sp lashed his face with the water from the basin, which was warm and filled up again immediately, though there were no visible taps or spout.

Fred applied the lather to his face and began to shave, at the same time whi spering to himself. Arthur wondered if it was some kind of prayer that Fred might not cut his own throat. He'd just gotten his own razor out and it was incredibly sharp and dangerous. Then he saw that Fred was using the blunt ba ck instead of the blade.

"What're you whispering?" Arthur inquired.

"My name," said Fred as he carefully sc.r.a.ped some lathered soap off his chi n. "And my favorite color." "Oh," said Arthur. "I forgot..

He stared at the mirror, looking at his familiar though not very satisfyi ng face. He couldn't believe he might not know himself soon.

"You'd better shave, or you'll get put on defaulters," Fred warned. "That me ans get punished."

"Even though my skin is perfectly smooth?" Arthur ran his hand over his chin . "I won't have to shave for years."

"They'll know you haven't shaved," said Fred despondently. "Just because we' re going to get washed between the ears doesn't mean they'll let us off shav ing, or anything else."

"Okay," said Arthur. "Okay!"

He put some soap in his lathering bowl and started to whisk it with the brus h, as he'd seen Fred do. Then, following the other boy's lead, he slapped th e frothy soap on his face and shaved with the back of the razor. It was comp letely pointless, just putting on soap and sc.r.a.ping it off. Arthur thought a bout what he was going to do as he sc.r.a.ped, flicked, and rinsed.

"Let's not go back," he said as they were was.h.i.+ng their necks and under their arms. "Let's stay here."

"Here?" squeaked Fred. He was obviously unnerved by the idea. "I'm not su re this place even exists after morning ablution time. The weirdway close s"

"If we stay by these basins, I reckon we'll be okay," said Arthur. "They're r eal to us, so they must be somewhere."

"But we'll be absent without leave," mumbled Fred. "Not on parade. The Ba throom Attendants will come looking for us."

"If the weirdway's closed till tomorrow morning, they won't be able to find us, will they?" asked Arthur. "How long do they hang around?"

"They come, do the was.h.i.+ng, and go," said Fred. "Just as long as it takes to do all the Piper's children in the area."

"So we wait here, then go back tomorrow morning," said Arthur. "Take our p unishment and get on with the training."

"You'll do no such thing," said the recruit who'd just finished packing up n ext to them. Arthur vaguely recognized her as being from his platoon. Florim el the one Fred had said to watch out for. "You will report as ordered."

"No, we won't," said Fred, all his despair of a moment ago vanis.h.i.+ng. Appar ently all it took to encourage him was someone like Florimel telling him he couldn't do something.

"I'm ordering you back to the barracks!"

"Who made you High Lady Muckamuck?" asked Fred. "You're just a recruit, same as us. We'll do what we want and you keep your mouth shut."

"I'll report you," said Florimel, drawing herself up to her full height.

"No, you won't," said Arthur sternly. "You won't say a word."

Though Florimel was tall, for a moment Arthur appeared taller still, and his hair suddenly moved as if it had been swept by the beat of unseen wings. There was something of Dame Primus in Arthur's stance and voice, jus t for an instant. Then he was just a boy again, but Florimel had already lo oked down and backed away.

"Yes, sir," said Florimel. "Whatever you say, sir."

She half-saluted, did a clumsy right turn, and marched away through a coupl e of green-clad Borderers who were also leaving, but in the opposite direct ion.

"How did you do that?" asked Fred, openmouthed. "I thought for sure she'd put us in a pickle. Someone like that"

He stopped talking as the moon above their heads suddenly lurched towards th e horizon. At the same time, a rosy glow fell on them from the east. Arthur turned to look. He couldn't see the sun, but the light was the first hint of the dawn.

With that hint, the remaining soldiers hurriedly left in all directions, evi dently disappearing back through their own weirdways to their respective pla ces in the Great Maze. Within a few minutes, Arthur and Fred were alone in t he vast, lonely washroom, with nothing but mirrors and basins to see in all directions, the mirrors beginning to reflect the morning light.

"I hope this turns out to be a good idea," said Arthur.

"So do I," said Fred with a s.h.i.+ver.

He s.h.i.+vered again as some of the farther mirrors began to fade away, as if they had dissolved in suns.h.i.+ne. He backed up to his own basin. Arthur found that he too had unconsciously backed up to make contact with the solid por celain.

Slowly, as the sun rose and became an identifiable disk above the horizon, the sinks and mirrors around them faded away. Arthur and Fred drew closer t ogether, till they were standing shoulder to shoulder. They could see nothi ng around them save sunlight, but their own basins remained solid, and thei r mirrors shone.

"Maybe it's going to be all right," Fred whispered.

"Maybe," Arthur said.

That was when everything went black. Just for an instant. Arthur and Fred b linked and saw that while they were still shoulder to shoulder they were no longer leaning against a basin, nor were they surrounded by sunlight.

They were back in the barracks, leaning against Arthur's wardrobe, and the on ly light came from the hurricane lantern above their heads and the others lik e it, all of them now lit.

In the dim light, Arthur saw three shapes standing ten feet in front of him . They were Denizen-sized and -shaped but clad in all-concealing daisy-yell ow robes with long, pointed hoods. Their hands were gloved in flexible stee l mesh and their faces too were hidden this time behind masks of beaten b ronze.

One mask had a smiling mouth. One had a mouth turned down in somber refl ection. The third mask had a mouth twisted in agony.

There was no sign of anyone or anything behind the mouths or the eyes of the masks. There was only darkness.

"BBBathroom Attendants," whispered Fred. "Fred Initial Numbers Gold, M a.n.u.script Gilder's a.s.sistant Sixth Cla.s.s, favorite color green, tea with milk and one sugar, shortbread but not caraway biscuits"

The Bathroom Attendants glided forward, robes whispering on the floor. Two o f them reached into their broad sleeves and pulled out strange crowns of scu lpted blue ice, all spikes and shards that crackled and sparkled with dancin g light. The third produced a length of golden rope that moved in his hand l ike a spitting cobra, rearing up to spit its venom.

But it did not spit poison. Instead the golden rope leaped through the air a nd fastened itself around Arthur's ankles, bringing him down even as he turn ed to run away.

Arthur hit the floor hard. The golden rope swarmed over his legs, wrapping the m tight, then the loose end fastened itself on his left wrist and started to d raw it behind his back. Arthur resisted as hard as he could and scrabbled desp erately in his pouch with his right hand, trying to get the silver crocodile r ing. It wasn't a coin, but it was silver, and Arthur wanted it under his tongu e. He had it in his grasp and was bringing it up to his mouth when a coil of the rope lashed itself around his right wrist and pulled it back. Arthur snapped his head forward, got his fingers in his mouth, and pushed the ring under hi s tongue, cutting his lip in the process.

Blood trickled down his chin as he was hauled up onto his knees, the golden rope securing his arms behind him and his ankles together.

Arthur looked up and saw the fizzing, sparkling crown coming down.

I'm Arthur Penhaligon, he thought desperately. Arthur Penhaligon, my pare nts are Bob and Emily. I'm the Master of the Lower House, the Far Reaches , the Border Sea The crown was wedged tight upon his head and Arthur fell silently screa ming into darkness.

Chapter Twelve.