CHAPTER FOURTEEN- GOLD FOIL
Leaf's vision swam as she propped herself up on one elbow. Everything was tinted with a pale violet that she assumed was from her massive headache as she looked around. She was in a four-poster bed, the rest of the room shrouded behind drawn curtains. Leaf sat up to draw it back and gasped as she misjudged the movement and ended up toppling head over heels off the bed and onto the floor.
The impact felt less forceful than it should have been, and Leaf was off-balance for a moment as she tried to stand but ended up falling on her butt. The gravity's all screwed up, she thought. Then that led to a very natural conclusion.
I'm not on Earth.
This did not cause her as much panic as it could have, mainly because there was no point panicking. Hyperventilating would not help her in any way, shape, or form, and neither would rocking back and forth, curled into a ball, though she had to admit both options were immensely tempting. Instead, she rubbed the carpet with her hand to calm herself down. The carpet was soft and luxurious, several inches deep- fit for a lady.
I'm on another planet, maybe another world, and I'm admiring carpet, Leaf thought, and snorted. How did I get here? After I gave Suzy the pocket, she knocked me out to stop the Skinless Boy from taking over my brain or something. I'm myself, so I guess that means Arthur defeated the Skinless Boy for good. That's good. Suzy told Michaeli to get me an ambulance, and the nearest hospital was East Area. So the question is… how did I get here?
Leaf noticed a door in the corner. She shook her head and got to her feet, accidentally jumping up several inches with each step before getting the hang of the low gravity. She had to walk with a low, loping gait to get to it. Leaf jiggled the doorknob, which remained obstinately fixed. Of course it was too much to ask for it to be open. No Denizen would not lock her in.
Leaf was certain her captor was a Denizen. What else would it be? Unless she was captured by Nithlings. That would have been much worse.
Leaf drew back as the doorknob turned without her moving it, and the door opened from the other side.
A star entered the room, a fallen star that had come from the sky above.
Or, at least, her face was so bright and shining, she seemed like one, and it was hard to look at her for long without averting one's gaze. The luminosity made her hair seem to glow in vibrant hues of pink and brown, and that stood out against the somber, rich black of her hat and clothing. Purest white wings arched behind her as she stepped closer to Leaf, and something impossibly brilliant glinted in her hand.
Leaf was immediately afraid.
"Awake at last, mortal?" she said, her voice warm and soft, musical. It was the sort of voice that rang with magic and power, a beautiful voice that made Leaf want to bow down and sing, but the urge was small, and she quashed it.
Leaf simply nodded, trying to gather the courage to speak.
"Ah, wonderful."
"Why the luxury?" Leaf blurted.
"Excuse me?"
"Why this fancy room?"
The Denizen took a quick look around- for she had to be a Denizen, she clearly wasn't human shining like that, and was at least seven feet tall- and shrugged. "I do not dishonor my guests."
"Your hostages, you mean!" Leaf found it was easier to be bold when she was looking a bit to the left of the Denizen and not straightly at her. "This is just a fancy jail cell!"
The Denizen seemed to shine even brighter, and she said, "Madame Leaf, I have no intention of harming you. You are lucky I have retrieved you before Primus after you destroyed the Spirit Eater."
"You- you must be Saturday!"
The Denizen burst into laughter. "Me? Saturday? Dear, I'll choose to take that as a compliment. No, I'm not. You're lucky I got to you before she did as well… Saturday does not appreciate it when someone tampers with her handiwork. As for the Will… you are Arthur's friend. She's bound to use you to get what she wants, as we do now. By being near the Rightful Heir, you are doomed to be a hostage no matter what."
"But why would Dame Primus want me?"
"Because the Will can't allow friends to get in the way of its marvelous plan for the Rightful Heir; he's too busy trying to become the N-" She stopped mid-word and emitted a pain-filled shriek, the object glowing white-hot and then dying to a simmering ember before going out into a lump of darkness. The light left the Denizen's face, and she screamed. "No! No, no! It was a slip, it can't have been enough, no!" Then it brightened again, the Denizen's face impossible to look at once more, and she sighed in relief.
"Are you all right?" Leaf asked.
"I don't need mortal pity!" she snapped. Then, in an entirely different tone, she added, "Or do I? I've had a taste- only a little one, mind you- of pity. Oh…" She moaned softly. "So delicious, and yet so… infuriating. What a complex swirl of paradox, an incomprehensible web of emotions… how do mortals make sense of it all?"
This woman was clearly unstable, Leaf decided.
The Denizen sighed. "Anyway," she said, "this is my mountain retreat. You're staying here until my plan to get rid of several major annoyances is complete. Feel free to walk around, but I wouldn't recommend doing it alone. That's a terrible idea." She smiled, teeth gleaming. It was too wide and insincere to be genuine. "You know what? I'll send someone to show you around, hmm? Oh, and you'll be needing nourishment. You must be hungry."
She was hungry. Leaf couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten something. The pangs in her stomach told her she wasn't in the House, so she'd need actual sustenance.
"I'll let you sit in during dinner," the woman concluded.
"Thanks," Leaf said, not sure what else was called for.
"Of course. I wouldn't dream of letting my guests starve. Starvation is so unpleasant. I've felt it myself, actually. Quite terrible." Leaf wasn't sure, but she had a suspicion the Denizen was licking her lips. "Then there's emotional starvation. I know that better than anyone. Mm, love-starved, how sad." She turned. "Leaf, mortal-girl, I'm quite pleased to have you and- what's her name? I can't remember, urgh! Apple or Banana or something. Oh, right. Some sort of… Aunt Apricot or Mango- whatever- is here as well."
You're the one who's a banana, Leaf thought, but wisely refrained from saying this aloud. "What's my aunt got to do with it?" she asked.
"Because she'll keep you in line. No one likes guests who challenge the host's patience."
"And what is my host's name?" Leaf asked, emboldened by the fact that the woman was bonkers. That was foolhardy- if anything, that should have worried her to no end. But her Irish grandmother (who was supposedly a witch) had once told Leaf that insane people- especially magical insane ones- were more unpredictable, and that meant good as well as bad surprises. Here's hoping this woman was full of the good kind.
Of course, there was a fair chance Leaf was bonkers as well.
"I am Lady Friday," the Denizen said, "Mistress of the Middle House and Trustee of the Architect." Another flash of light, like a sun exploding, shone as she pulled something out of her pocket, and she held it out to Leaf. "Peace, mortal. My quarrel is not with you, but Lord Arthur. Your people see olives as a sign of peace, correct?"
Leaf wrinkled her nose. "That's a lemon branch."
Lady Friday drew back. "How marvelously outspoken. You are most fortunate, dear. Not many have such tolerance of mortal brattiness. I, on the other hand, find it quite refreshing- to a degree. Do not test my endurance."
"I was just pointing it out," Leaf shrugged.
Friday nodded. "Indeed. You are observant, dear. Unfortunately, I don't have any olvies at hand. You'll just have to trust me."
She won't hurt me, Leaf thought, but I'm sure this is about Arthur. She'll hurt him for certain. Jeez, what a situation, and I've barely known him for three weeks. That's what I get for visiting newbies in town at the hospital. They're on their own from now on!
"I can't say I trust you yet," Leaf said. "You'll have to prove you deserve it."
Lady Friday chuckled. "Prove it? How brash. What a strange notion… I have never had to prove anything before."
Clearly.
Lady Friday sighed. "Anyway, dear, it'd be best you stay here for the time being, what with the veracious flora and fauna…"
"What?"
"Oh, the plants can eat you," Friday said. "That's all. No biggie."
"No biggie?!"
"You're free to disbelieve me if you wish. After all, I haven't… proven… anything. I won't stop you from leaving."
"The door was locked earlier."
"So I could warn you before you did anything idiotic. It won't be from now on." Friday shrugged. "It's your life. Do what you want."
"That doesn't make sense. You're going to risk losing your hostage?"
"My guest." She stressed 'guest' as she said it, as if hostage was a terrible word. "Dear, to use you as a… guest… all I have to do is have Arthur believe I have you safe and sound." Then she gave another smile, waved, and said, "I'll get you for dinner, and I'll bring Aunt Banana too."
"Aunt Mango," Leaf corrected, but by then Friday had left, and Leaf was talking to a shut door. She wasn't sure if she should go out and look for Mango or stay put. Friday might be telling the truth, or she might be trying to make sure Leaf stayed in the room.
But if she wanted me here, she would have locked the door, Leaf thought, easily turning the knob. Her heart skipped a beat as she cracked it open, and after a moment's hesitation, stepped through.
Suzy was put in charge of the Piper's Children originally accompanying Thursday to the Spike, now part of the group sent to retrieve the Trustee and Arthur. Of them, Quicksilver stood out as a natural-born leader, everyone taking to her immediately and looking up to her almost instinctively.
Suzy disliked Quicksilver a great deal.
"Everyone ready?" Marshall Dawn asked. She would not be accompanying them herself, though several high-ranking soldiers would.
"Er, almost," said Ermine. "I can't find my sandwich."
"You don't need the sandwich," Jazebeth said, pursing her lips. Jazebeth was in a sour mood, having lost her hand at the explosion of the Spike and having a replacement attached, a prosthetic of silver and Immaterial glass. One would think this would be a cause for jubilation, but the stump hurt, and the prosthetic worked creakily and jerkily. On top of that, she did not appreciate Suzy calling her 'Jezebel' as a nickname.
"I think I do," Ermine sniffed back, indignant. The two immersed in deep bickering. Dawn groaned and rolled her eyes, and Suzy wished she had a biscuit to munch on while watching the entertainment.
"Shut up!" Quicksilver snapped.
"Yes, sir!" they both saluted.
"Heh heh," chuckled Fineold.
"What?" asked Quicksilver, exasperated.
"I think it's funny they called you 'sir,' even though you're clearly a girl," Fineold said. "Like, way clearly for a kid your age."
"I'm not a kid, and I'm several thousand years old," Quicksilver said, but blushing in embarrassment nonetheless. "You all have the maturity of seven year olds."
"Not true!" protested Halfcut. "I have the maturity of a six year old!"
That, of course, sent everyone into uproarious laughter.
"Shut up!" repeated Quicksilver.
Dawn sighed. "Are we ready? Minus the sandwich."
"Yes, sir!" they said, with some minor chuckling from Fineold.
"Good. Then let's summon the elevator and send you off." Dawn pressed a button that appeared in midair, waited for a second, then jabbed it again. Then again. Each jab was harder and more forceful, until she looked ready to yank the button out and stomp on it.
"Something up?" Suzy asked.
"I haven't slept in three days, my patience is limited, and I'm not even getting a 'Wait- Elevator's Coming' message!" Dawn said. At that moment, with a loud pop, a letter popped into her hand. "What's this?"
Dawn ripped it open with signs of frustration and stress, then quickly scanned it, a scowl deepening with each passing second. "Darn it!" she said, waving her hand, and the letter disappeared.
"What is it?" Suzy asked.
"Superior Saturday has limited our elevator use," Dawn answered, leaning against the wall with her arms folded.
"So we can't legally use an elevator?"
"Yup."
"Well, that's easy to fix, then," Suzy shrugged. "We can just break the law."
"Oh, jeez." Dawn paled at the thought. "Break… the law?"
"I didn't know it was so traumatic of an idea," Suzy sniffed.
"I think Army Denizens are conditioned to follow orders more closely than regular ones," Fred said, " and even the regular ones have some trouble with it."
"Not that Dawn ignores laws if she's in a stubborn streak," Noon said, entering the room. "Clearly, she's running of out of energy, or she'd be railing about how if she wanted an elevator, she'd darn ride an elevator! We are talking about elevators, right?"
"Yes," Dawn sighed. "Now what? How are we supposed to rescue Arthur and Thursday? And Dame Primus would be held up until they solve this…"
"Well, I don't think you'd mind Dame Primus being held up, O Marvelous Marshall," Noon snickered.
"I can't believe you're cracking jokes now!" Dawn moaned. "What do we do?"
"There is that one tunnel between the bulwark of the Maze and the Middle House," Noon suggested. "It's usually closed, but enough tea and biscuits for a bribe, and we'll be through faster than you can say 'Peter Piper Picked a Posse of Pickled Peppers.'"
The Piper's Children scowled at that, and Dawn said, "You should have more respect for the dead, brother."
Noon shrugged. "Sorry. You know what? That cursed veranda I've been telling you about… since Thursday's been gone, it's stopped chucking water balloons at me. You don't think Sir Thursday was the one who-"
"No," Dawn cut in. "It was not Thursday. Anyway, we have more pressing matters to worry about."
"This tunnel-" Suzy said. "How do you exactly get to it?"
Arthur pounded on the door impatiently. "Open up, please!"
Thursday added, "Or we'll rain fire and death upon you."
The door to the mill was thrust open, and a stout Denizen ushered him in. "Who're you?" he demanded at Arthur, then, "Oh, so sorry, sir!" when he saw Thursday. The Denizen knelt and said, "Are you here to court Lady Friday once more? Because she's out. Abdicated, so we've heard."
"I'm not here to court Friday," Thursday growled. "What gave you that ridiculous notion?"
"Nothing, sir," said the Denizen. "Marek Flat-Gold at your service."
"Where's Friday's Dawn?" Thursday asked. "He's the Guild Master here, isn't he?"
"Yes, he is," Marek agreed, "but he's out. Er, he and his Gilded Youths have gone someplace- not exactly sure where, I don't hear much news- and now Elibazeth is in charge."
"Elibazeth?" Thursday frowned. "Well, bring her over here."
Ten minutes later, a blonde Denizen in an apron and sleeves rolled to her elbows ran up. "Sir?"
"I see you recognize me," Thursday said. "This is Arthur, the Rightful Heir."
"A pleasure," said Elibazeth, but her tone didn't sound pleased. "Is there anything I can help you with, or can I go back to my work now?"
"And what work is that?" Arthur asked, curious despite Elibazeth's snide demeanor.
"Foiling," she said, immediately brightening. Arthur had learned that most Denizens were quite amiable and affable when it came to talking about their work, even if it was work they (claimed they) hated. "Foiling of all kinds. I'm quite good at it, you know. I remember when the Architect Herself came down and asked me to foil some type for Her Will. Oh, dear! The whole team here was besides themselves, we were so excited!"
"You did some foiling for the Architect? On the Will?" Arthur asked, incredulous.
"She did," Thursday grunted. "Elibazeth is a Master Foiler, First Class. The House doesn't give high precedence to idiots, Arthur." Then he cocked his head to the side and added, "Well, most of the time. Architect knows how Monday got his position…"
"I still have a piece of the foil," Elibazeth said, ignoring that. "It's one of our finest treasures. Would you like to see it?"
"Of course!" Arthur exclaimed. A thought whirled around in his mind. Scamandros had once mentioned that objects were sorcerously linked, so if some foil was used on the Will and Elibazeth had a sample of that foil… he could use it to find Part Five, and maybe Parts Six and Seven as well. All he'd need would be a sorcerer to complete the spell for him.
Elibazeth ushered them into her desk, which looked akin to a banker's- that was strange, considering she foiled documents for all eternity. She opened a drawer and held up a small glass rectangle to the light. Arthur squinted. There, ever so small, was a small speck of gold. It was so tiny it looked almost like yellow dust.
Without conscious thought, he found that he was reaching up towards it, and Elibazeth drew it away. "Hey, no touching!" she admonished. "This is the treasure of this place! I can't let you get your grubby fingerprints all over it."
Something Arthur didn't quite recognize or understand rose up in him. It wasn't quite anger or rage, because he knew both of those well enough. It was like them, but somehow more complex and shallower at the same time. "I need it!" he snapped. "I'm the Rightful Heir, and that's a sample of the Will's foil. It's mine by right!"
"It's our treasure," Elibazeth repeated firmly.
"I don't care." And Arthur found himself snatching it out of her hands. Immediately, his face glowed a deep red as he realized exactly what he'd done, and felt deep shame. But at the same time, a self-righteous justification burned in his stomach, telling him that he was right, he did deserve it, and he needed it more than Elibazeth ever would.
Thursday raised an eyebrow at the spectacle but didn't comment.
"Fine. Keep it," she said. "Are you done? Anything else you need that I can get for you?"
"A coat," Thursday said before Arthur could open his mouth. "One for the mortal boy. I want mine back eventually."
Elibazeth bowed. "I'll see to it."
A Denizen burst in. "Elibazeth! Elibazeth!"
"What, Marek?" she demanded, turning to face him and shoot a deadly glare.
"Visitors!" he gasped. "Some Fetchers, and a Denizen who says he's Saturday's Noon, requesting a parley and delivering this here letter." He waved the letter, as if to prove he wasn't making it up. "Asked if we'd seen anyone suspicious, or a Rat. I told him I didn't see no Rat, no sir, the Middle House doesn't have vermin like that, but we have these two visitors, Sir Thursday and some random Piper's Child with a nasty-looking weapon. Because, you know, that is a nasty-looking weapon."
Arthur groaned, and Sir Thursday scowled. "Marek," the Trustee hissed, "go out and request twenty minutes to prepare for this parley."
"Twenty minutes?" Marek gulped. "Yes, sir." Then he dashed away.
Arthur turned to face Thursday. "What do we do?" he asked.
"How fortified is this mill?" Thursday asked Elibazeth.
"We have defenses," she sniffed. "Rest assured, if that hooligan of Saturday's means to do us any harm, then we won't stand for it. But if all he wants is you, then I suppose…"
Arthur was about to call her a traitor when he realized Elibazeth worked for Friday and thus didn't owe him any particular loyalty. In fact, he would probably have the same view if he were in her place.
Except he wasn't, and the comment was scathing.
Arthur tucked the box with the sample foil into a pocket and held up the Fourth Key. "What do we do?" he repeated.
"We'll have to jump the wheel of the mill," Thursday said grimly. "I doubt Elibazeth here would be willing to have any of the Denizens defend the place just to fight for us."
"Precisely," she said. "Now- I have work to do." She strode right past them, but Thursday's voice cut her off before she could leave the room.
"First- show us the best way to leave without 'that hooligan,' as you have said, seeing us."
Elibazeth smirked. "If I show you, will you leave the foil behind?"
"Yes," promised Arthur.
He didn't like having to lie.