CHAPTER THIRTEEN- EMELENA'S PACKAGE
The drizzle of rain in the Upper House instantly soaked someone stupid enough to stand outside without an umbrella. Luckily for the messenger, though, he wasn't outside.
He was seriously hoping he was, because his current location was less than desirable. Friday's Mirror had brought him to the Upper House, straight past rows of guards and sorcerous defenses, into Superior Saturday's office.
And she was not pleased.
"I thought I had taken sufficient measures against the Fifth Key," she said, slamming her book shut. He couldn't see the title. "Clearly, I was wrong. Well, what do you want?"
"I have a message," he said.
"Obviously. Does Lady Friday mock me with a lemon branch, or is she so pathetic she can't tell the difference anymore?"
"Er, sorry," the messenger said. "All right, here it is:
greetings lady saturday superior sorceress of the upper house trustee of the architect from lady friday trustee of the architect and mistress of the middle house i greet you through my mouthpiece who is to deliver my words exactly as i have spoken them knowing full well that you seek the fifth key and will do stop at nothing to get it as arthur will likewise do and in the interest of a quiet life pursuing my own researches into aspects of mortality i have decided to abdicate as mistress of the middle house-
Saturday snorted at that, muttering under her breath, "Right, and I'm a Rat's uncle," but the messenger continued without pause.
and leave the key for whomsoever might find it and wield it as he or she sees fit i ask only that i be left alone in my sanctuary which lies outside the house in the secondary realms with such servants who choose to join me there my messenger has gone to arthur bearing this same offer whoever of you two can find and take the key from where it lies within my scriptorium in the middle house is welcome to it the key shall accept you or arthur the fifth part of the will i also leave in the middle house and i take no further responsibility for is incarceration but shall not release it either lest it take the key for itself my abdication shall take place the moment both of you have read this message and that act shall be recorded on the metal tablet my messenger also bears
The messenger stopped, took a deep breath, and bowed. "I have the tablet here, madam." He pulled a package out of a pocket in his apron. He held it out to her at an arm's length.
"How stupid does Friday think I am?" Saturday demanded. "Set the package down there."
The messenger acquiesced as Saturday moved a piece of paper out of his line of sight, clearly not wanting him to see it, but he didn't comment.
"I was one of the sorcerers who developed transfer plates," Saturday continued. "Friday must really have lost it if she can't even remember that. Did she really think I wouldn't be able to recognize one?"
"Er…" The messenger shrugged. "Well… I'm really not sure what to do now."
"Hmm. Well, even if she's pulling my leg, which I don't doubt for a second, it's worth checking out. Was that the end of the message?"
"Yes."
Saturday turned her back to him, hand covering the paper she had hidden, the other on the book she'd been reading. The messenger recognized it to be a record, now that he really looked at it. "Then you have no more use."
"I suppose so."
"Good. Go take a swim."
He knew what that meant. Exactly three seconds later, Relen Folio Gatherer, Second Class, 10, 219th in Precedence in the House, screamed as he plummeted from the top of Saturday's tower.
Having effectively shot the messenger, Saturday turned back to her work. "Dusk," she called, "and Noon. Get in here- we have work to discuss."
Her Time scurried in. The two weren't just brothers, but identical twins, so it was a bit difficult to know which was which for most people. Saturday, however, had memorized every little nervous tick and signal that would set them apart.
"We must formulate a plan for how to get to the Key," she said softly. Her eyes widened as she heard a soft pitter-patter that wasn't of raindrops but scurrying paws. "A Rat!" she hissed, the Key materializing in her hand.
A furry creature leaped at her face. Saturday shrieked and bat at it instinctively, and the Rat fell onto the desk with a thump, momentarily dazed by the force behind the Day's hit and the impact. Saturday scribbled in the air, and the Rat screamed, a high-pitch wail that grated at the Morrow Day's ears. It snatched the paper Saturday had been hiding and dashed for the transfer plate as Saturday finished writing her sole word.
KILL.
The Rat gave a howl of pain, but its paw touched the package, and Rat, paper, and plate disappeared.
Saturday shouted in frustration and almost face-palmed. "DUSK!"
The Time stood to attention. "Yes, milady!"
"Get a force of Artful Loungers and head to the Middle House," she ordered. "Get me my letter, and make sure that Rat is dead. Bring me its tail and snout."
"Yes, milady." He bowed.
Saturday stood and threw open the doors to an armoire in the corner.
"Ma'am?" Noon asked as she pulled out a blue, fur-lined coat. "Do you have something planned?"
"It's been a while since I've seen snow," she said. "Let's round up some Internal Auditors and get going, hmm? We mustn't be slow, or this Pretender Penhaligon will beat us to the Key."
"Milady?"
"Oh, how thick are you?" she snapped. "We're going to the Middle House!"
"I see…"
"Now," she said, pulling out another cloak and gesturing to both of them. "Which one matches my eyes better?"
Dawn was on hold for a full five minutes before Dame Primus decided to actually pick up the phone. The Marshall quickly told her what had transpired, and the Will sighed.
"I'm a little held up," Dame Primus said. "Things aren't exactly going well in the Sea. Listen to this message, and call me back right away."
"Should we reveal Arthur's-"
"If you Marshalls and Thursday are there, this messenger shouldn't be able to do anything to him," Primus sniffed, and hung up.
Dawn relayed the message to Arthur. He'd been playing chess with Emelena, but it turned out she was even worse at it than he was. He actually managed to beat her at it.
"All right, then," Arthur sighed, standing and pointing at the Marshall's baton he held. "I'm Lord Arthur."
"Oh, you could've said something!" Emelena complained. "I was waiting hours!"
"I needed the okay from Dame Primus," Arthur explained.
"Why?" Emelena asked. "I thought you ordered her around."
"Well, yes, but- er, never mind. So, this message."
Emelena nodded. "Okay. Here goes:
greetings lord arthur rightful heir from lady friday trustee of the architect and mistress of the middle house i greet you through my mouthpiece who is to deliver my words exactly as i have spoken them knowing full well that you seek the fifth key and will do stop at nothing to get it as saturday will likewise do and in the interest of a quiet life pursuing my own researches into aspects of mortality i have decided to abdicate as mistress of the middle house-
She paused to take a deep breath. She was going very quickly, far too fast to be natural and without any punctuation whatsoever, but Arthur understood her well enough.
and leave the key for whomsoever might find it and wield it as he or she sees fit i ask only that i be left alone in my sanctuary which lies outside the house in the secondary realms with such servants who choose to join me there my messenger has gone to saturday bearing this same offer whoever of you two can find and take the key from where it lies within my scriptorium in the middle house is welcome to it the key shall accept you or saturday the fifth part of the will i also leave in the middle house and i take no further responsibility for is incarceration but shall not release it either lest it take the key for itself my abdication shall take place the moment both of you have read this message and that act shall be recorded on the metal tablet my messenger also bears
"Abdicated my foot," Thursday scowled.
Dawn nodded. "It's not like her."
"Though she was into researching mortals," Noon pointed out.
"If only we could contact the cousins and validate this," Dawn sighed.
"The cousins don't talk to us anymore," Noon said, "ever since you had to go and pick arguments with Friday."
"I was not picking arguments with Friday!"
"Stop acting like squabbling siblings," Thursday said.
"But we are squabbling siblings," Noon protested.
"Uh, I have the tablet!" Emelena interjected. She pulled out a package from within the confines of her apron pockets.
"Thanks," Arthur said, reaching for it.
"No, idiot!" Thursday said, and cursed. He reached for Arthur's belt and pulled him back just as his fingers brushed the tip of the package. The package exploded into a spray of confetti with a sound like a noisemaker going off. Arthur realized he was holding a small, round metal plate, and was hit with sudden awareness.
There was a flash, and both Thursday and Arthur disappeared.
"Oh, who knew it did that?" Emelena chuckled nervously. "I certainly didn't." She dropped the lemon branch and threw both hands into the air, as if about to be arrested. "Don't shoot the messenger!"
"We have more honor than that," Dawn frowned.
"Oh, that's rich, coming from you," Emelena retorted.
Dawn drew near so that their faces were only several millimeters apart. "Do you have an issue with me, Folio Gatherer?"
"Not at all," Emelena laughed, in a panicked way. Dawn stepped back and snapped her fingers.
"All right then! Listen up. Now that both Sir Thurday and Lord Arthur have fallen into the trap and Dame Primus is in the Border Sea, I have the highest Precedence in the Maze."
Noon groaned. "Darn. She's activated bossy mode."
"What was that?" Dawn asked with a smirk. She clapped her hands. "Okay, everybody! Someone put Miss Folio-Gatherer in the jails- they're a bit too empty. I'll head over there to interrogate her later, but I doubt there's much she knows. Let's get Private Turquoise-Blue in here, and fetch some volunteers."
"What for?" Noon said.
"I've got to send someone down to the Middle House to bring them back," Dawn shrugged. "You and I need to stay here, obviously, and take care of things until Dame Painus- er, Primus- gets here."
"Painus isn't as good as Old Primey," Suzy said, stepping in, evidently having been eavesdropping (as usual). "So, what's this about you being in charge?"
"I have highest Precedence at the moment," Dawn explained.
"Oh, okay. I'd pick you over Primey any day," Suzy said.
"Um, thanks?"
"She'd pick Thursday over Primus too," Fred added, stepping up behind her. "It's not that great a compliment."
"Yeah, not really," Suzy admitted. "So- we're going after Arthur in Friday's demesne?"
Dawn's smile took on a mischievous tinge. "Oh, right. The Middle House is Friday's demesne… I guess we could help him get rid of her instead of just bringing him back."
Noon groaned. "Architect help us, it's not just bossy mode- it's revenge mode too!"
Arthur saw flashing white that turned constant until he looked up, seeing the blue of the sky, and realized he'd been lying on his side in drifts of snow. His breath came in mist, and he stood, shivering. He was cold- his uniform wasn't built for cold weather. If he'd known, he would have brought a coat.
No, if I'd known, I wouldn't have taken the stupid package, he thought sourly. He scowled. He'd been too trusting in Emelena. Her bumbling manner had fooled him.
But it wasn't really Emelena's fault. She was just the messenger. He hoped the Marshalls wouldn't do something stupid like punishing her over it.
Thursday stood next to him, frowning. "The Middle House," he spat, and drew his weapon. The Day now wielded a sheathed broadsword similar in size and shape to the form the Fourth Key preferred when the Trustee had it.
The Key!
That reminded him. Arthur's fingers flew to the baton that was now stuck through his belt, though he didn't remember shoving it there. He sighed in relief. It was a good thing, though. He wasn't sure he'd find it if he dropped it in all the snow.
"We're in the Middle House?"
"Yes. I recognize the sun, and the surroundings."
"So I'm guessing we're far from the Scriptorium," Arthur said.
"Very," Thursday replied, confirming his suspicions. "Hopefully she didn't rig it so Saturday would end up closer. I doubt it. Friday didn't care much for Saturday's machinations."
"Neither did you?"
"Neither did I," Thursday said. "Like I said, I hate politics." He squatted over, looking at something in the snow. "Hmm."
"What is it?" Arthur asked, bending over to look at it too. He saw footprints that reminded him of mice, only bigger. "Do you think it's a Raised Rat?"
"Most likely," Thursday said, starting to follow the trail. Arthur walked beside him.
"How did Emelena get in the Maze? She sort of fell on me out of a shield," Arthur said.
"Friday's Mirror- the Fifth Key," Thursday answered. "It works a lot like Seven Dials, but only allows her to send people where she herself has visited physically through more conventional means."
"Friday's been to the Citadel? Right outside your rooms?" Arthur asked.
"Friday and I used to… well, we were an item."
"What happened?"
"I had an affair."
"What? With who? Why?"
"Ah, so here is our Rat," Thursday changed the topic, picking up the pace as they came to a dark lump in the snow that Arthur soon saw was a motionless Rat.
"Is it… dead?" Arthur asked.
Thursday prodded it with his foot, then placed his hand against its chest. "It appears so."
Arthur bit his lip. The Rat's body was mangled and contorted, as if its limbs had been broken from the inside-out, and blood littered the pure white snow with drops of crimson. "Hey, look," Arthur pointed. "The Rat's holding something."
Thursday bent over and gently removed a piece of paper that was crumpled in its paw. "A letter," he said. Broken rainbow wax was on end, and Arthur couldn't tell whose seal it was.
"Let me see," he said, and Thursday showed him the paper. It was a manila color, and the words were written in crisp, elegant green.
For the last time, I do not wish to interfere. Manage affairs in the House as you wish. It will make little difference in the end.
- S.
"Who's 'S'?" Arthur asked. "Saturday?"
"Not likely," Thursday snorted. "Miss High-and-Mighty-Saturday would not limit herself one letter. If she had signed this, it would probably say something like, 'Lady Saturday, Most Superior Sorceress of the Upper House, Deputy of Lord Sunday, Trustee of the Architect, First Denizen-"
"Okay, I get the picture," Arthur interrupted, as Thursday showed no signs of stopping or even slowing. He shivered again and sneezed.
"You're cold," Thursday said, his tone sounding surprised. "Right, you're still mortal…"
"Half," Arthur corrected. It didn't feel right to say he was just a mortal, as if he was lying.
"Do you want my coat?"
"Won't you-"
"I will be fine," Thursday said, handing Arthur his jacket. Arthur put it on without another word of protest.
"So, why would Sunday send Saturday this?" Arthur said.
"I don't know. I think it would be wise to move on," Thursday replied. Snowflakes were beginning to start drifting lazily down, but nowhere near fast enough to cover their tracks. "Saturday will not take this loss. I'm sure she'll send someone to look for this."
"Would she come herself?"
"It's not likely," Thursday said. "She doesn't really pay other demesnes social calls anymore."
"What, as in she used to?" Arthur said.
"You need to stop asking me such questions," Thursday growled as they began to trek forward. The snow came up to mid-calf, and Arthur found it a little difficult to trudge through it. They continued like this for what felt like hours, but when Arthur inquired, turned out to be only five minutes. He didn't bother asking Thursday how he knew that.
"There's some sort of shelter up ahead," Thursday said, pointing. A little cottage nestled on the horizon, steam wafting from a chimney. A giant wheel rotated at the side of it, propelled by a canal of some sort. It reminded Arthur of pictures he'd seen of old-fashioned watermills.
"Wonderful!" Arthur exclaimed. Despite wearing Thursday's jacket, he was still freezing. He suspected that the snow here was colder than the snow back on his world or the Realms. He ran towards it.
"Idiot!" Thursday cried. "Get back here!"
Arthur didn't slow. The thought of warmth was too tempting to resist.
Thursday shook his head. "You'll get us killed like that!" he called, and then took off after him.
"It's not like you to go down yourself," Noon said. "This is a lot of fuss over a letter."
"This is not just for the letter, which in itself is a loss- we can't have the Heir finding it, can we? As for going down myself… it is for the Key. Dusk is handling the Rat. I will handle the Mirror," Saturday said. "It's true though; usually I'd have you do my dirty work."
Noon frowned, unsure whether she was complimenting him or insulting him.
"Anyway," Saturday continued, "it's possible the Key will only accept either me or the mortal boy."
"And you do not want to risk it," Noon said.
"Precisely." Saturday pulled on a pair of gloves that looked like leather but were probably either Immaterial or some other sorcerous fabric. They glistened black, a contrast to the azure, fur-lined cloak she was wearing. Noon's Mistress had dressed for the cold, with a thicker tunic and leggings than she usually wore in the Upper House. "First things first, I've had Dusk use a spell on the remains of the package to see where the transfer plate was supposed to go, but that might take a while, so I'm also having him scour the entire thing."
Saturday handed him an envelope. "Send that out to the Denizens of the Middle House. I'm taking command. I need them on the lookout for the Pretender or the Rat, though it isn't likely it got far. The spell hit it. It's dead."
"Are you sure?"
Saturday turned and glared at him, and Noon recognized his mistake. "Apologies, Milady," he vindicated. "But if it's dead, why chase it?"
"For the letter. We can't have just anyone picking it up. Anyway, another demesne in my control wouldn't be a bad thing. So send someone to deliver these orders."
"Yes, milady."
Saturday turned and picked up a pair of emerald-feathered wings, glossy feathers near-twins to the quill of the Sixth Key- not in color, but in shape and fluffiness. "It's been a while since I've gone flying," she said with a smirk. "Let's hope it's like riding a bicycle."
A/N: This one's a little short. My apologies. Longer chapters coming soon. If you liked it, please review! I'd like to know what you're thinking of how the plot is shying away from canon.