Keys To The Kingdom_ Sir Thursday Part 6

"What'll we call you?" Helve took another bite of his cigarillo and chewed thoughtfully. Arthur tried not to breathe in. The smell of chewed tobacco w as revolting, worse than he'd have imagined. If it was tobacco, and not som e close equivalent from another world out in the Secondary Realms.

"How about Ruhtra?" Helve suggested. "That's Arthur backwards."

"Roottraahmaybe something that sounds betteror less obvious," suggest ed Arthur. He looked across at the horizon, wrinkling his eyes against t he harsh sunlight, so much in contrast to the lush green jungle to the w est. "How about Ray? Ray um Green? I could be an Ink-Filler from the L ower House."

Helve nodded and spat again. He carefully restored the half-masticated cigar illo to the tin and slid it back into his belt pouch. Then he drew out a cli pboard that was five times larger than the pouch, took a pencil from behind his ear, though one had not been there before, and made some quick amendment s to the papers on the board.

"Hide that ring," Helve said as he wrote. "The crab-armor can be explained for a hurt Piper's child, but no recruit has a personal item like that ring."

Arthur twisted off the crocodile ring and slipped it into his own belt pouch. As far as his questing fingers could tell, it was the same size inside as ou t, though the sergeant's pouch was obviously transdimensional.

"Recruit Ray Green, we never had this conversation," said Helve, quietly for once, as he stuffed the clipboard back in the pouch, both board and papers twisting bizarrely as they went in.

"No, Sergeant," agreed Arthur.

"Atten-hut!" screamed Helve. The sudden intensity and volume of his voice made Arthur leap into the air. He came down quivering at attention.

"You see those buildings, Recruit! That is Fort Transformation, where we t ake Denizens and make them into soldiers. We are going to march there and you are going to do me proud! Back straight! Fists clenched, thumbs down, by the left, quick march!"

Arthur started marching towards the buildings. Helve followed a few steps t o the left and behind him, bellowing corrections to his posture, his step, how he swung his arms, and his timing. In between these practical comments, Helve lamented what he had done to deserve such a sickly-looking specimen, even for one of the Piper's children.

By the time he got to the buildings, Arthur was wondering whether he would e ver learn how to march properly, or at least up to Helve's standards. He was also wondering where everybody else was. As far as he could tell from the p osition of the rather rickety but extremely hot sun that was crossing the ho rizon, it was late afternoon, so he would have expected lots of recruits and training staff to be out doing military stuff.

"Halt!" yelled Sergeant Helve, once Arthur had pa.s.sed the first row of build ings and was about to step onto a large area of beaten earth ringed with whi te-painted rocks that was clearly the parade ground. "When I give the comman d 'Recruit, dismiss,' you will smartly pivot on your left foot, raise your r ight foot and bring it cras.h.i.+ng down next to your left foot, stand at attent ion for precisely one second, and then you will march briskly to Barracks Bl ock A, which you will see in front of you unless you are Nothing-rotted blin d as well as stupid! You will report there to Corporal Axeforth. Recruit! Wa aaait foooor it! Dismiss!"

Arthur pivoted on his left foot, brought his right down, and then marched cl umsily rather than briskly forward. There was only one building directly in front of him, so he headed straight for that. It was a long single-story whi tewashed wooden building, raised on stilts about four feet high. Steps led u p to a door, which had a red plaque on it with black-stenciled type that sai d: Barracks Block A, Second Recruit Platoon, Corporal Axeforth. Arthur marched up the steps, pushed the door open, and marched in.

The room was bigger inside than it should have been, but Arthur hardly even noticed this sort of thing anymore. It was common in the House. It was abo ut the size of a football field, with a ceiling twenty feet up. What light there was was provided by about twenty large hurricane lamps that swung fro m the rafters. There were windows on each side, but they were all shuttered.

In the pools of light from the hurricane lamps, Arthur saw that one side of the huge room was entirely lined with stretcher beds and large wooden ward robes, rather like Captain Catapillow's aboard the Moth. There had to be a hundred beds, each with a wardrobe next to it.

The other side of the room was more open, with thirty or so racks arranged i n rows of three. The racks were ten feet high and thirty feet long, and they were hung with all kinds of weapons and armor, all of it to Arthur's eye ve ry old and some of it very strange. The rack closest to him held a variety o f straight and curved swords, small round s.h.i.+elds, large kite-shaped s.h.i.+elds , blue uniform coats, large unwieldly-looking pistols, and grappling irons a nd rope. The next one along was entirely given over to fifty or sixty musket s, with strange stovepipe hats of stretched white cloth arranged above the w eapons.

At first Arthur thought no one was there, but as he marched farther into th e room, he saw a group of Denizens in blue recruit uniforms standing down a t the other end. As he drew closer, he saw a scarlet-uniformed instructor i n front of them, demonstrating some kind of weapon. From the two gold strip es on the instructor's scarlet sleeve, Arthur guessed he was Corporal Axefo rth.

The Denizens looked like a typical bunch. An even mix of men and women, th ey were all very good-looking, but none was over six feet tall, so they we re presumably not important in their civilian positions. None of them turn ed around as Arthur marched up.

Corporal Axeforth glanced up, though. He was also about six feet tall and s tocky, and like Sergeant Helve, disfigured by scars from Nothing injuries. In his case, his entire ear and nose had been dissolved and he wore a carve d wooden ear and a silver nose, both of which appeared to be glued on, as A rthur could see no other means of attachment.

"You're late, Recruit!" barked Axeforth. "You'll have to pick up as we go al ong."

"Yes, Corporal!" shouted Arthur. He took a few steps to the left and joined the semicircle. As he marched around the end, he saw that there was a very small Denizen opposite, partly obscured by a weapons rack. Not even a Deni zen, but a Piper's child. A boy, who looked about the same age as Arthur, t hough he had probably lived for hundreds or even thousands of years in the House. He had short black hair and very dark skin and looked friendly, his mouth turned up with the hint of a smile. He winked surrept.i.tiously at Arth ur but otherwise maintained his interest in the corporal's weapon demonstra tion.

If it was a weapon. Arthur found his place and looked on. The corporal was h olding a large rectangular block of gray iron by its wooden handle. There wa s a regular pattern of holes in the iron block and as the corporal lowered i t to the table, steam jetted out.

"This here iron is the section iron," said the corporal, pressing down on a white collar. "It's always hot and it will burn your clothes if you leave it facedown. I will demonstrate the correct procedure for pressing your number two Regimental dress uniform collars. Watch carefully!"

The Denizens all leaned in as the corporal carefully moved the iron over the c ollar from right to left six times. Then he sat the iron up on its end, flippe d the collar over, and repeated the process.

"Everybody get that?"

Everyone nodded, except for one Denizen, who raised his hand. He was the m ost handsome of them all, with finely chiselled features and bright blue e yes. Unfortunately, those eyes were rather vacant.

"Could you do it again, Corporal?"

Arthur rocked back on his heels very slightly and repressed a sigh. It looked like it was going to be a long ironing lesson.

Chapter Eight

"Hey, isn't that Emily's kid? He's supposed to be in 1 I Exclusion on Leve l Twenty!"

It was a doctor who shouted, pointing at the Skinless Boy, who ignored him and disappeared through the cafeteria doors. Leaf hesitated, then hurried a fter the Nithling. Behind her, the doctor shouted again, and hospital secur ity guards started to move through the crowd. But they were on the far side of the main atrium and it would take them minutes to get through the throng.

The cafeteria's serving bays were shuttered, but the room was full of people sitting around or slumped over the tables. They were nearly all hospital st aff too. The Q-zone must have been clamped down just as the s.h.i.+ft changed, L eaf realized. So all the staff going off-s.h.i.+ft had been trapped here and wer e trying to rest in the public areas. There were few non-staff because visit ing hours were in the afternoon.

The Skinless Boy was already on the far side of the cafeteria, not using the crutch, walking faster than any human could with a broken leg in a cast. It s till touched people on shoulders or backs as it went by.

Every touch would be spreading the mold, Leaf thought. In a matter of hour s, or however long it took, the Skinless Boy would control the minds of hu ndreds of hospital workers. It would have a brainwashed army under its con trol.

The Skinless Boy turned left past the serving counters and pushed open a doo r. It didn't bother to look behind, but Leaf slid sideways to put some peopl e between her and the Nithling, just in case. When the door closed behind th e Nithling, she ran the rest of the way across the room, listened for a seco nd, then opened the door and went through. Even though she'd heard receding footsteps, Leaf still feared the Skinless B oy would be there, waiting, its hand outstretched to strike her as it had st ruck the doctor, or simply to infect her with its mind-mold. But it wasn't. Only an askew door at the other end of the corridor showed which way it had gone.

The door was more than askew, Leaf found when she got there. It was still e lectronically locked on one side, but the Skinless Boy had peeled back the other side, ripping the hinges from the wall. No alarm had been triggered a nd the door would appear locked in the hospital's security center. It was a n ingenious way to evade security.

That probably meant the Skinless Boy already had access to the thoughts of s ome of the hospital staff, Leaf figured.

Otherwise it wouldn't have known to be careful. It had been on Earth since at least five past seven the night before, so it could already have spread the mold to lots of people.

There was another twisted door farther along, then two more on the fire stai rs. Leaf followed the Skinless Boy very cautiously, listening for its footst eps. At the peeled-back door that led to the Lower Ground Three floor, she s topped and peeked around, rather than going right through.

The Skinless Boy was in the corridor, outside a door that she felt must be clo se to the linen storeroom the Atlas had recorded as being its lair.

The Nithling stopped and suddenly looked back towards the stairs. Leaf froze , hoping it hadn't seen her.

For a moment, she thought she was safe. Then the Skinless Boy hissed a sound Arthur would never make spun on its heel, and came sprinting do wn the corridor towards her.

Without thinking, Leaf ran down the fire stairs, because that would be qui cker than going up. She'd only jumped down four or five steps when she rea lized her mistake. All the doors going down would be locked. There would b e nowhere to go.

She was trapped, and in seconds the Skinless Boy would be on the stairs behi nd her. Panicked, Leaf tried to go even faster, tried to jump too many steps at once and fell.

She fell headfirst, hit a step hard, and slid down to the next landing.

The Skinless Boy stopped five steps above her and looked down. It saw Leaf l ying still, blood trickling from under her hair. But her chest still rose an d fell, indicating that she was breathing. The Nithling hesitated, then it s lowly walked down the remaining steps and extended its hand, brus.h.i.+ng its pa lm against the back of her outstretched hand. Satisfied, the Skinless Boy re turned back up the stairs, eager to commune once more with the sorcer-ous sc rap of material that was the source of its ident.i.ty.

Leaf returned to a consciousness dominated by pain. Her head really hurt an d there were aches and pains all down her left side, from ribs to ankle. Sh e was disoriented, for a few seconds thinking she was back aboard the Flyin g Mantis.

Have I fallen from the rigging? she thought. But it wasn't the deck beneath her, it was a concrete floor. And it wasn't Pannikin shouting at her. It was a loudspeaker.

Leaf rolled over and sat up very gingerly. A voice was booming through the stairwell, coming out of the emergency speakers that dotted the ceilings of each landing.

" check for indications of the bioweapon code-name Grayspot. The indicati ons are gray spots on the hands, neck, face, or other exposed areas of fle sh. If you have the gray spots, do not approach anyone else. Move immediat ely to Level Three for treatment. If you had the gray spots but they are n ow gone, move immediately to Level Five for treatment. If you do not have the gray spots and did not notice them previously, stay where you are. Avo id skin contact with all persons. Do not attempt to leave the hospital. Th is hospital is now zoned as a Red Biohazard Area under the Creighton Act a nd anyone attempting to leave will be shot and flamed."

The voice was followed by a loud pulsing tone, then the same message start ed again.

Leaf touched the sorest part of her head, at the back. Her skull was intact as far as she could tell, but when she looked at her fingers, there was partiall y dried blood all over them.

She rolled her hand, looking at the blood and feeling sick. Then she froze, staring not at the blood but at a small patch of skin behind her knuckles. T he skin was brown, like every other part of her that had been exposed to var ious suns aboard the Flying Mantis. But right in the middle there were three small gray dots.

Suddenly everything came rus.h.i.+ng back. The Skinless Boy turning to chase her. Her fall down the stairs.

Then while she was unconscious, the Nithling must have infected her with the spores. It would only be a matter of time before the Skinless Boy woul d be able to read her mind and make her do whatever it wanted.

It would learn everything. It would totally control her.

Leaf struggled shakily to her feet and started climbing the stairs, only man aging to keep her balance by gripping the handrail. The warning message kept repeating, echoing around the stairwell, making it even harder for Leaf to think.

She had to get the pocket and find the House. Dr. Scamandros would might be able to cure her.

By sheer force of will, Leaf managed to get her pain-wracked self back up t o Lower Ground Three, arriving at the same time the recorded message stoppe d blaring out through the loudspeakers. She rested for a few minutes on the landing there, gathering her strength and her thoughts. But she couldn't t hink of anything to do other than to go to the linen storeroom and try to f ind the pocket. This would be hopeless, if the Skinless Boy was there. But if he wasn't, and she could get the pocket, then Leaf shook her head, wincing as pain shot down into her neck. She didn't know what she would do if she got the pocket, but it was the first step. One step at a time, she told herself. One step at a time.

She took that step, slowly walking down the corridor to the linen room, her h and trailing along the wall for support. She pa.s.sed the door that she had tho ught the Skinless Boy had been about to enter, but it had no sign, so she kep t going. The next door said it led to a stationery storage area, so she kept going to the next. It said it was the electronic parts storeroom. Leaf was ab out to keep going to the next door, till she suddenly wondered why the first door had no sign. Every door in the hospital had a sign. Why not that one?

She turned around and went back. Sure enough, there were faint marks of gl ue where the sign had been ripped off the front of the door. But why would the Skinless Boy bother to do that?

Leaf put her head to the door, holding back a gasp as she misjudged slightly and sent yet another stab of pain through her neck. That also triggered a m oment of panic as she wondered if she had a cracked vertebra or something. B ut her head moved well enough, and the pain felt like it was in the muscles that ran up the side of her neck to the chin. She ignored it and listened ag ain.

She could hear something, but it didn't sound like the Skinless Boy. It soun ded like a woman talking quietly. Leaf kept listening and didn't hear anyone answer. It sounded like the woman was talking to herself.

Leaf turned the handle and pushed the door open just a crack. Looking in, sh e saw shelves and shelves of folded sheets, pillowcases, and other linens. T here was also a trolley and, leaning back on it, a nurse who was holding a l ong, whippy piece of plastic that Leaf recognized as the sign from the door.

"You can't come in here," said the nurse.

"Why not?" asked Leaf. She made no move to open the door wider, or to shut it. The woman didn't look entirely normal. There was something about the way she was slouched against the trolley. As if some of the muscles in her arms and legs weren't working together.

"He told me not to let anyone in," said the nurse. "And to find a sword. Only I couldn't find a sword. Just this."

She brandished the sign.

"I just want " Leaf started to say, but the nurse held up her hand.

"Wait, he's telling me something "

The nurse's head went back, and Leaf saw something else that wasn't right a t all. The woman's eyes didn't have any white in them anymore, or any color in her irises. The white had become a pale gray, and her irises and pupils were entirely black.

Leaf didn't wait. She threw the door open, charged the nurse, and pushed her back onto the trolley. It crashed back into a shelf, which partly toppled o ver, burying the nurse under a cascade of blue-striped towels.

As the woman struggled to get out from under the avalanche of linens, Leaf dragged more things off the shelves and threw them on top of her. Pillows, blankets, towels everything that came to hand. At the same time, she was desperately looking around. How could she find a small square of cloth in a room full of linens?

She would only have a minute, or perhaps seconds. The nurse was bigger and stronger than her, particularly with Leaf in her injured state. Since the Skinless Boy knew what the nurse knew and could see what she saw and hear d, there would probably be more of its mental slaves coming. Or the Skinle ss Boy itself.

The gla.s.ses. I could use Dr. Scamandros's gla.s.ses.

Leaf frantically checked her pockets. For a terrible second she thought she' d lost the gla.s.ses case, but it was just the unfamiliar arrangement of the p ockets in her alien jeans that confused her. The case was in a narrow pocket almost behind her thigh and not much above her knee. She got it out, snappe d it open, and flung on the gla.s.ses.

The linen room looked quite different through the crazed lenses, but not beca use the view was all blurry and cracked. In fact, to Leaf the gla.s.ses were pe rfectly clear, but she could see strange fuzzy colors in things that hadn't h ad them before. Sorcerous auras, she supposed, or something like that.

Quickly she scanned the shelves and was immediately rewarded. Most of the co lors overlaid on the various items of linen were cool greens and blues. But one shelf stood out like a beacon. It was lit inside by a deep, fierce red.

Leaf sprang at it, pulling away a rampart of pillowcases. There, behind this l inen wall, was a clear plastic box the size of her palm that had formerly been used to store sterile bandages. Now it had a single square of white cloth in it, but with the aid of the gla.s.ses, Leaf could see rows and rows of tiny lett ers across the cloth, each letter burning with an internal fire.

She s.n.a.t.c.hed the box and backed away, pausing to tip another shelf-full of t owels over the nurse, who was staggering to her feet.

Leaf was out the door and in the corridor when the nurse got her head free and shouted after her, her voice a strange mixture of a woman's and a boy's . Whatever she said or the Skinless Boy said through her was lost as th e door slammed shut on Leaf's heels.

Though Leaf couldn't hear the exact words, she caught the tone. The Skinle ss Boy knew she was infected with the mold. Sooner or later, it would cont rol her mind and she would have no choice but to bring the box and the poc ket back.

After all, there was nowhere for her to go.

Chapter Nine

After the ironing lesson, Corporal Axeforth tediously demonstrated how to sm ear a kind of white clay over the recruits' belts, preferably without gettin g it anywhere else. This was followed by painting their boots with a hideous tarry mixture and then sanding the very black but rough result back to a sm ooth finish before applying a glossy varnish that was the stickiest substanc e Arthur had ever encountered.

Following the demonstrations, when they got to practice what they'd been shown, Arthur talked quietly with the Piper's child, whose name was Fred Initial Numbers Gold. He was a Ma.n.u.script Gilder from the Middle House an d had been drafted the day before.

Fred was optimistic about their future Army service and even welcomed it a s a change from his nitpicking job of applying gold leaf to the numbers in important House doc.u.ments. He'd heard or he remembered, he wasn't sure which that Piper's children were usually employed in the Army as drummer s or other musicians, or as personal aides to senior officers. This didn't sound too bad to him.

After the final lesson on preparing their recruit uniforms, the section was dismissed for dinner. Only there wasn't any and there wouldn't be any, C orporal Axeforth explained, for six months. Food was a privilege and an hon or to be earned by good behavior and exemplary duty. Until they had earned it, the dinner break was merely an hour to be used to prepare for the eveni ng lessons and the next day's training.

Arthur missed the food, though like everyone else in the House he knew he d idn't actually need to eat. He spent the hour going through all his equipme nt and the uniforms that were laid ready on his bed and in his locker. The most useful item of the lot was a thick, ill.u.s.trated book called The Recrui t's Companion, which, among its many sections, listed and ill.u.s.trated every item and had short notes on where and how each would be used, though Arthu r still had to ask Fred to explain some of its contents.

"How come we have so many different uniforms?" he asked.

Fred looked down at the segmented armor and kilt, the scarlet tunic and black trousers, the buff coat and reinforced leather trousers, the forest green je rkin and leggings, the long mail hauberk and coif, and the bewildering array of boots, pieces of joint-armor, bracers, and leather reinforcements.

"The Army's made up of different units and they all wear different uniforms, " Fred explained. "So we got to learn the lot, case we get sent to the Legio n, the Horde, or the Regiment or one of the other ones. I forget what they' re all called. That armor there, the long narrow pieces that slide together and you do up with the laces, that's Legionary wear. Scarlet's for the Regim ent, and the Horde wear the knee-length ironmongery. They've all got differe nt weapons too. We'll learn 'em all, Ray."

"I guess I'd better sort them out according to this plan," said Arthur. He put The Recruit's Companion down on the bed and unfolded the poster-sized d iagram out of it that showed the correct placement of every one of the 226 items Arthur was now personally responsible for. "Though I don't see anyone else putting their stuff away."