Disclaimer: The Keys to the Kingdom series does not in any way belong to me, it's the property of Garth Nix, etc.


Displaced Sin


Monday looks at Sneezer.

"Really?" he asks. "I run a perfectly maintained operation, nothing like the shambles of the other Demesnes. Did you not consider that I would notice when one of my closest subordinates began to act out of character? That I would be on my guard because of the Will's escape?"

Sneezer tries to move, but his limbs refuse to obey. He is frozen, immobile, hands poised at the controls for the Seven Dials; Monday has laid his hand against the Minute Key, wordlessly invoking its power to hold the Denizen in place.

Though his mouth will not open, a deep voice issues from him.

"The Architect's Will will be done, Monday," the voice says, echoing off the walls of the Day room.

"Perhaps," Monday says calmly. "But you have failed today." He turns back to the Seven Dials, expertly set by Sneezer moments before.

"It would be a shame to let the Rightful Heir that you handpicked go to waste, though," Monday muses, as the hour begins to sound.

"There is to be no interference," the Will roars. "The Original Law-"

"Disregarding, of course, the interference necessary to hand over my Key," Monday says drily. Then, "Silence the Will for a minute and confine the Will in this room for an hour." The two portions of the First Key glow briefly, and the Will is silent.

Monday steps into the centre of the Dials just as the twelfth chime sounds and disappears.


The schoolyard is deserted. Monday frowns, casting his eyes about the area, but there is no one in sight. Certainly no one matching the description of- here Monday pauses to consult the copy of the record the Will somehow acquired- Arthur Penhaligon, human, 12 years of age.

Monday is aware of the shoddy state of the other Demesnes; the Lower House only deals with defunct records and as such this record is beyond his purview. This record, as with all records that concern living mortals, falls under Friday's administration. That the record should contain inaccurate information is not out of the question.

Friday has become increasingly erratic in the millennia following the breaking of the Will. (She is not the only one, of course; Friday is just the Trustee of whom Monday is most aware, since their purposes are concurrent.) Matters that ought to be corrected with a minimum of fuss are often ignored for fear of inciting the Lady's fury.

Monday himself avoids meeting her in the Middle House, where her power outstrips his own. Though they are equals, he has his doubts about her self-control. He hesitates even to invite her to the Dayroom, where his powers would be superior. Friday's company has become exceedingly unpleasant, but this (falsified?) record must be discussed.

Monday scowls at the prospect and raises the Minute Hand. He sketches a set of imaginary steps in the air and enters the Improbable Stair.