drink!”
“No,” said Dame Primus. She dropped her gold pencil and a tortoiseshell fan appeared in her hand. As she resumed speaking, she fanned her face in agitation. “Surely you wouldn’t be eligible?”
“What are you talking about?” Arthur picked up the coin and looked at it. One side showed a knight’s head, with the visor of his helmet up and ostrich plumes falling down one side. The letters around the side were initially just gobbledygook to Arthur, but they changed as he looked at them, to spell out Sir Thursday, Defender of the House . The other side showed the top third of a big old-fashioned sword, with a serpent wound around the hilt. Or perhapsthe serpent was the hilt—Arthur couldn’t be sure. The words around this side also shimmered and changed, to become One Shilling .
“It’s just a coin,” said Arthur. He looked around at everyone. They were all staring at him, and they all looked disturbed. “Isn’t it?”
“It’s Sir Thursday’s shilling,” Dame Primus explained. “You’ve been tricked into taking it. One of the very oldest tricks, to make someone accept something they don’t want, or don’t know about.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you’ve been drafted,” said Dame Primus. “Into the Glorious Army of the Architect. I expect the papers will arrive at any moment.”
“Drafted!? Into the army? But how—”
“I suppose that technically you have a position within the House,” said Dame Primus. “Which allows Sir Thursday to draft you. Every Denizen, at some time, must do their century of military service—”
“Century! I can’t spend a hundred years in the Army!”
“The question is whether this is an intentional plan on the part of Sir Thursday to bring you into his power, or just some accident of the administrative process. If the latter, you will be quite safe, until we can find out where Part Four of the Will is, and then with its help, we can—”
“ Safe? I’ll be in the Army! What if I get sent into a battle or something? What if Sir Thursday just kills me?!”
Dame Primus shook her head.
“He can’t just kill you. Once you’ve been recruited, he’ll have to follow his own regulations. I suppose that he could make things very unpleasant for you. But they do that to the recruits anyway.”
“Fantastic. What about the assassins that killed Mister Monday and Grim Tuesday? What if they kill me?”
“Hmmm. In fact, this could work to your advantage, Arthur. No assassin from the Middle or Upper House would dare attack you among your comrades in the Great Maze, and a Denizen from the Incomparable Gardens would be very obvious and give you time to get away or think of something. You would be out of the way, and comparatively safe, while we get on with things.”
“I beg your pardon, Dame Primus, but there is one thing Sir Thursday could and probably will do if he knows Arthur is among his recruits,” Monday’s Noon interrupted. “My own service was long ago, but I have not forgotten it. Arthur will probably be safe enough during his first year of training. But after that, he could be posted to the Borderers, or to the Mountain Fort, where there is always fighting with the Nithlings. As a mortal, he would stand in much more danger in battle than any Denizen.”
“What if I just don’t go?” Arthur asked. It was seeming like the best choice. “I mean, come on. There has to be some benefit to being Master of the Lower House and Duke of the Border Sea and all that. I mean, Sir Thursday couldn’t draft Mister Monday or Grim Tuesday or Lady Wednesday, could he?”
“Yes, he could,” said Monday’s Noon. “If they had not already done their service.”
“But I refuse to—” Arthur began to say. He was interrupted by a loud knock on the door. A Commissionaire Sergeant poked his head in and cleared his throat.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” he said to Dame Primus. “Lord Arthur, there’s a recruiting sergeant here. Says he’s on
“No,” said Dame Primus. She dropped her gold pencil and a tortoiseshell fan appeared in her hand. As she resumed speaking, she fanned her face in agitation. “Surely you wouldn’t be eligible?”
“What are you talking about?” Arthur picked up the coin and looked at it. One side showed a knight’s head, with the visor of his helmet up and ostrich plumes falling down one side. The letters around the side were initially just gobbledygook to Arthur, but they changed as he looked at them, to spell out Sir Thursday, Defender of the House . The other side showed the top third of a big old-fashioned sword, with a serpent wound around the hilt. Or perhapsthe serpent was the hilt—Arthur couldn’t be sure. The words around this side also shimmered and changed, to become One Shilling .
“It’s just a coin,” said Arthur. He looked around at everyone. They were all staring at him, and they all looked disturbed. “Isn’t it?”
“It’s Sir Thursday’s shilling,” Dame Primus explained. “You’ve been tricked into taking it. One of the very oldest tricks, to make someone accept something they don’t want, or don’t know about.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you’ve been drafted,” said Dame Primus. “Into the Glorious Army of the Architect. I expect the papers will arrive at any moment.”
“Drafted!? Into the army? But how—”
“I suppose that technically you have a position within the House,” said Dame Primus. “Which allows Sir Thursday to draft you. Every Denizen, at some time, must do their century of military service—”
“Century! I can’t spend a hundred years in the Army!”
“The question is whether this is an intentional plan on the part of Sir Thursday to bring you into his power, or just some accident of the administrative process. If the latter, you will be quite safe, until we can find out where Part Four of the Will is, and then with its help, we can—”
“ Safe? I’ll be in the Army! What if I get sent into a battle or something? What if Sir Thursday just kills me?!”
Dame Primus shook her head.
“He can’t just kill you. Once you’ve been recruited, he’ll have to follow his own regulations. I suppose that he could make things very unpleasant for you. But they do that to the recruits anyway.”
“Fantastic. What about the assassins that killed Mister Monday and Grim Tuesday? What if they kill me?”
“Hmmm. In fact, this could work to your advantage, Arthur. No assassin from the Middle or Upper House would dare attack you among your comrades in the Great Maze, and a Denizen from the Incomparable Gardens would be very obvious and give you time to get away or think of something. You would be out of the way, and comparatively safe, while we get on with things.”
“I beg your pardon, Dame Primus, but there is one thing Sir Thursday could and probably will do if he knows Arthur is among his recruits,” Monday’s Noon interrupted. “My own service was long ago, but I have not forgotten it. Arthur will probably be safe enough during his first year of training. But after that, he could be posted to the Borderers, or to the Mountain Fort, where there is always fighting with the Nithlings. As a mortal, he would stand in much more danger in battle than any Denizen.”
“What if I just don’t go?” Arthur asked. It was seeming like the best choice. “I mean, come on. There has to be some benefit to being Master of the Lower House and Duke of the Border Sea and all that. I mean, Sir Thursday couldn’t draft Mister Monday or Grim Tuesday or Lady Wednesday, could he?”
“Yes, he could,” said Monday’s Noon. “If they had not already done their service.”
“But I refuse to—” Arthur began to say. He was interrupted by a loud knock on the door. A Commissionaire Sergeant poked his head in and cleared his throat.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” he said to Dame Primus. “Lord Arthur, there’s a recruiting sergeant here. Says he’s on
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