The Piper's children quickly formed up, automatically sorting themselves in to line in order of height and shuffling sideways to get the right separati on, measured by holding out a clenched fist against the shoulder of the sol dier to the right. They were an odd-looking bunch. Nearly all of them had c ombined different kinds of armor, weapons, and equipment from the various s tandard items used by soldiers of the Regiment, Legion, Horde, or the Borde rers. Arthur realized that all of them except for him had at least two weap ons, and often three or four. He also realized that none of the Artillerist s had volunteered, which perhaps explained why that unit was called the Mod erately Honorable Artillery Company.

"Raiding Party ready for inspection, sir!"

Arthur exchanged salutes with Quicksilver, then walked along the line, look ing over each soldier. If he'd felt more confident he would have commented on their weapons or equipment, but instead he just asked their names. He di dn't feel like a real officer, but even as a fellow soldier he wanted to kn ow who they were. After the battle at Fort Transformation, he knew that at least some of them would probably not be coming back. He wanted to know the names of his comrades, and he tried to fix their faces in his mind as well , so he would have something to remember if he survived the coming battle a nd they did not.

He repeated the names in his head as they were spoken, memorizing them. H e'd always had an excellent memory, particularly for words and music.

The twelve Piper's children apart from himself, Suzy, and Fred were Quicksi lver, Gluepot, Yellowbristle, Awning, Jazebeth, Halfcut, Sable, Fineold, an d Ermine. They didn't tell him their first names. Five were girls and four were boys, and they looked between the ages of nine and thirteen.

At the end of the line, Arthur wheeled around and marched over to Sir Thurs day, who was waiting patiently. Again, there was an exchange of salutes as Arthur declared the raiding party ready. Sir Thursday nodded, then marched over to address the soldiers directly.

"I will enter the Improbable Stair first," announced Sir Thursday. "You will bring up the rear, Mister Green. The soldier following me will hold the back of my belt, and the soldier behind him his belt, and so on. If anyone lets go , he or she will fall out of the Improbable Stair wherever we happen to be at that instant, and anyone holding on will also go. Therefore it is essential that everyone keep a good grip "The Improbable Stair is improbable so though we are traveling a very sh ort distance within the House, it is possible that we may emerge upon a la nding of the Stair, which may be anywhere and anywhen. If this occurs, do not let go! We shall embark upon the Stair again immediately. No one must let go until I give the order. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir!" shouted the raiding party.

Chapter Twenty-four

Sir Thursday didn't waste any time. As soon as he'd finished talking, he walk ed over to the right-hand side of the line of Piper's children and took his p lace. "Raiding party!" he ordered. "Right turn! Take hold of the belt of the soldier in front of you!"

Arthur hurriedly joined the end of the line as everyone turned right. He barel y had time to grab Fred's belt before Sir Thursday sketched out a series of st eps with his sword, its point leaving glowing lines in the air.

"No need to stay in step!" called out Sir Thursday as he raised his boot and improbably trod on the first of those glowing, insubstantial steps he'd jus t drawn. "You may find it helpful to shut your eyes but you must hang on!"

Though Arthur had used the Improbable Stair before, he'd never seen anyone e lse disappear into it. When he'd traveled on the Stair he had been totally f ocused on imagining a stair where there wasn't one, a series of steps made o f brilliantly white marble, stretching up forever.

But that wasn't what he saw now. Sir Thursday ascended the glowing steps he 'd drawn and then his head disappeared as if it had been suddenly erased, a nd then his shoulders too and, all too quickly, the rest of him. The Piper' s child following gasped as her arm disappeared, then shut her eyes and was dragged onwards, apparently into disintegration.

It was hard being last, though the line moved very quickly. Arthur noticed t hat not one of the Piper's children held back, though most of them turned th eir heads at the last second as if to avoid something happening to their fac es. And their eyes were closed.

Arthur kept his eyes open. He wanted to be aware of any tricks Sir Thursday might try on the Stair.

He should have been relieved to find himself surrounded by white light, with the marble steps under his feet and a curling line of soldiers ascending th e Stair ahead of him. But he wasn't.

The Stair had not been a spiral when he'd climbed it before. Now it was tight ly coiled.

Arthur realized he'd stopped for a second when he was jerked forward. For a horrible instant he thought he was about to lose his grip on Fred's belt. Bu t his fingers were jammed through and he closed them again tightly, looking only at the steps as he staggered forward.

"Hang on!" exclaimed Fred as quietly as he could while still being emphatic. "Sir."

Arthur hung on and concentrated on the steps under his feet. For the first t wenty or thirty or so he kept expecting Sir Thursday to do something, but th en he remembered how hard it had been for him to lead just Suzy Blue up the steps. The Trustee wouldn't be able to do anything unless he put himself at risk of falling off the Stair as well and in the case of the Improbable St air a fall meant ending up somewhere you'd almost certainly not want to be.

This realization allowed Arthur to start worrying about what was going to ha ppen when they came out at the other end. Even if Sir Thursday did only need five or six minutes to destroy the Nothing spike, a lot could happen in tha t time. In the battle at Fort Transformation, scores of Denizens and New Nit hlings had been killed or wounded in the first thirty seconds, let alone the first five minutes.

There was also the possibility that something would happen to Sir Thursday. If he wasn't able to lead them into the Improbable Stair, then they'd be tra pped, easy pickings for the New Nithlings.

Unless I can lead everyone back into the Improbable Stair, thought Arthur.

He wondered if using the Stair would increase the sorcerous contamination o f his blood and bone. The crocodile ring was in his belt pouch, but there w as no point thinking about it, or about the contamination. Arthur knew he w ould have to do whatever it took for them to survive.

Something caught Arthur's eye, and he looked up. The Stair stretched on for ever, disappearing in a haze of bright white light. But Sir Thursday was go ne, as were the two Piper's children behind him. The third was disappearing , in mid-step.

"We're coming out!" said Arthur. "Hold on!"

He felt a bit silly as he said "hold on" because almost everyone had disapp eared by the time he said it, so only Fred heard, and he knew Arthur was th e one who hadn't been holding on properly.

Then Fred was gone, and this time Arthur did instinctively shut his eyes. W hen he forced them open only a microsecond later, he saw the line of Piper' s children ahead of him, with Sir Thursday at the head. Only a few feet bey ond Sir Thursday was a huge, rapidly spinning cone of utter darkness, shot through with occasional coruscations of blinding white.

It was the spike and not only was it spinning, it was bigger than Arthur ha d thought it would be. The part he could see was about thirty feet high and t wenty feet in diameter at the top, but it looked like it was half-buried in t he ground, the point having long since bored its way through the topsoil and into whatever material lay beneath the organic layer of the five hundred/five hundred tile.

"Let go!" roared Sir Thursday. "Take up defensive positions."

Arthur let go and looked around. They were on an earthen ramp reinforced with cut timber that had been built to emplace the spike. It was ten feet wide an d perhaps sixty feet long. The raiding party was at the top of it, right next to the spike.

The other end of the ramp joined a dusty, well-trodden road lined with white rocks that stretched to the tile border, half a mile away. On either side o f this bare road there were rows and rows of bright yellow bell-shaped tents . Hundreds and hundreds of tents, each one about twenty feet in diameter, oc cupying a forty foot by forty foot square.

There was also a parade ground, a square of bare earth two hundred feet lo ng on each side. A unit of one thousand New Nithlings was drawn up there, in the process of being inspected by a very tall, very imposing New Nithli ng or perhaps even a Denizen, because he was human-shaped and was wearin g a pale yellow uniform greatcoat of many toggles and considerable gold br aid, topped by a Napoleon-style hat worn sideways over what from a distanc e Arthur thought was either his own metal-masked head or some kind of horr ible metal replacement. This very tall commander was trailed by a dozen of ficers, or superior Nithlings, and in the mere second that it took Arthur to look down at the parade ground, he realized that this must be the myste rious leader of the New Nithlings.

He had no further time for thought. Sergeant Quicksilver was yelling and th e Piper's children were arraying themselves in a line across the top of the ramp, preparing their Nothing-powder pistols and carbines and power-spears and, in Quicksilver's own hands, a muscle-fiber longbow.

"Very good, ah, Sergeant," said Arthur. He had to struggle to keep his voi ce even. The whine of the spinning spike was very disturbing, rather like a human child complaining at an impossible pitch. The New Nithlings on the parade ground had also just noticed the intruders. The tall commander tur ned to look at them and though he did not appear to say anything, there was a sudden flurry of activity among the officers behind him and shouted commands.

"Take 'em five minutes to get here," said Quicksilver with a practiced glanc e. "All those tents in the way " She stopped talking as big kettle drums began to pound, in that same rhyt hm Arthur had heard in the attack on Fort Transformation. With the drums, New Nithlings emerged from almost every tent, like ten thousand hidden b ees suddenly emerging from an innocent-looking square of honeycomb.

Arthur looked at Sir Thursday. He was next to the spike, his sword raised a bove his head. Suddenly he shouted a battle cry, a sound that rose above th e noise of the spike and sent a jangling vibration down Arthur's spine. Sir Thursday cut down at the whirling Nothing, slicing off a huge piece that h urtled clockwise through the air and came down on a bell tent, destroying i t instantly, so all that remained were some sagging guy ropes hanging down a hole in the ground.

But the spike did not stop spinning, nor was there any notable hole in it, as if the Nothing it was composed of had simply filled the gap.

Sir Thursday scowled and cut at the spike again, with similar results.

"Here they come," said Quicksilver. "Do you want to give the order to fire, s ir?"

It took Arthur a second to comprehend that she was talking to him. He was s taring down at the ma.s.s of New Nithlings who were being shouted and cajoled into ranks as they raced towards the bottom of the ramp to make up an a.s.sa ult force. There were lots of less-organized Nithlings on the sides of the ramp as well, some of them trying to climb the sides, with some success, th ough it was thirty feet to the top.

All the New Nithlings were uniformed, armed with the crackly lightning spea rs Arthur had seen before, and clearly well led. Though it was true they ha d greater physical variety among them than the Denizens, with extra limbs a nd distorted features, they bore no resemblance to the half-mad rabble Nith lings were supposed to be.

"Yes, I'll give the order," said Arthur as calmly as he could. "Musketoons fi rst, then the power-spears. Quicksilver, you cover the left side and shoot th e climbers. Suzy, you take the right and do the same with your pistols. Fred, you load for Suzy."

Arthur drew his sword and moved to the center of the line, with only half a glance back at Sir Thursday. Even that was enough to know that the Trustee w as not making any real progress against the spike, though at least he was ti ming his cuts so that the pieces of Nothing flew off into the camp rather th an cutting a swath through the Piper's children on the ramp.

"Wait for the order!" called Arthur as musketoons were leveled and power-s pears raised.

A formation of New Nithlings twelve across and ten ranks deep was almost a t the foot of the ramp. Arthur looked at them stomping forward and knew th ere was no way they could stop them, or hold them off, or even survive. Th ey'd have time for perhaps two volleys from the five musketoons, a cast of three power-spears, and that would be it. They would be overrun.

Overrun, thought Arthur. Just another way of saying that we'll all be kill ed. Unless Sir Thursday can do something with the Key. Or we could try to get back on the Stair only there's no time. We'd never make it. They'd ch arge and cut us downthe last few for surewhich means me. Maybe that's wh at Sir Thursday planned from the start.

The enemy drumming suddenly changed tempo, getting faster. The New Nithli ngs shouted and began their charge up the ramp. Suzy's pistols went off, and Quicksilver's bow tw.a.n.ged and tw.a.n.ged again as Arthur counted to thre e and shouted, "Fire!" The musketoons banged and Nothing-powder smoke bil lowed up and Arthur shouted, "Throw!" and the power-spears flew and Arthu r shouted, "Hold fast!" and moved into the front rank to be with the othe rs, to hold the initial shock even if only for a few seconds and then A strange and unearthly sound filled the air. A breathy, high-pitched single n ote that sounded a little like a flute and a little like a whale singing and s omething entirely new and different as well.

The note stopped everything. In the case of the Piper's children, they liter ally stopped, frozen in mid-action. All of them save Arthur, who looked at F ineold with his savage-sword half out of its scabbard and Jazebeth's hand st opped with her fingers pulling back the lock of her musketoon.

Suzy was a statue on the brink of the ramp, a small snap-hance pistol in eac h hand, pointed down the right-hand side of the ramp. Quicksilver was just a s still across from her, her bow dropped in favor of a triangular-bladed pon iard.

The New Nithlings were not frozen, but they had stopped their charge and t heir climbing. Those on either side of the twelve-Nithling-wide ramp a.s.sau lt force were turning around and withdrawing, and the rest were moving apa rt to create an avenue of clear s.p.a.ce up the middle.

The tall commander was striding up that avenue, holding a simple wooden pip e to lips that were invisible behind a metal mask of dull steel, playing th at one impossibly pure, impossibly sustained note.

Arthur heard movement behind him and twisted around. Sir Thursday was the re, his face red and screwed up in rage.

"Traitors!" he screamed. "Five minutes is all I asked!"

Before Arthur could do anything, Sir Thursday's sword sliced through the air and connected with the frozen Private Fineold at Arthur's side, cutting off his head with a single stroke. Then Sir Thursday rolled his wrists and, wit hout stopping, swung the blade back again, straight at Corporal Jazebeth.

Without thinking, Arthur parried the blow. He got his savage-sword in the w ay, but it was as if the gravity-condensed steel were a mere twig. Sir Thur sday's sword snapped it in half, the impact making the broken sword fly fro m Arthur's hand. Sir Thursday's blow was hardly slowed, continuing to thunk horribly into Jazebeth's neck.

Arthur half-fell and half-jumped back as Sir Thursday swung at him, changing the blow in midair from a cut to a thrust, flicking the point at Arthur. Bu t the Denizen didn't follow through. Instead he leaped to the right and bega n to draw steps with the blade, beginning to enter the Improbable Stair.

Arthur's stomach muscles burned as he flipped himself fully upright. He to ok one swift glance around. The Nithling commander was twenty feet away, s lowly walking up the ramp between the Nithlings, still playing that uneart hly pipe.

Sir Thursday had one foot on his glowing step, his back to Arthur.

Arthur grimaced and reached alongside his cuira.s.s under the armhole, feelin g for the emergency dagger. But his fingers closed on a small plastic box. He had it out and in his hand before he remembered what it was.

I'm going to die, he thought. But I can save my family.

He threw the box at the spike and threw himself on Sir Thursday's back just as the Trustee disappeared into the Improbable Stair.

Chapter Twenty-five

Arthur got his legs wrapped around Sir Thursday's waist and his arms around his neck as he took his first step on the treacherous marble of the Improbab le Stair itself.

"Don't try anything!" warned Arthur. "If you do anything but move on the stai r, I'll throw both of us off!"

Sir Thursday growled something, a sound so inarticulate and full of anger it might have been a beast's noise. But he kept plodding up the stair, carryin g Arthur's weight as if the boy were no more than a light rucksack.

After twenty steps, the Trustee spoke again.

"You'll die for this. Mutiny is mutiny, no matter who commits it. You have sealed your own end, Lieutenant."

Arthur did not reply. He kept all his attention on Sir Thursday's movements, not his speech. The Trustee had his sword in his hand, and he could easily angle it back and slide it into Arthur without warning. Arthur knew he had t o be ready to throw all his weight to one side, even if it ended up being a dead weight. At least Thursday would be thrown off the Stair, hopefully to s omewhere horrible where it would not be easy to get back on again. Justice will be served, said a voice in Arthur's head. The quiet, telepathic voice of the imprisoned Part Four of the Will. J nearly had him back there. You must make him angry again.

Make him angry? Arthur thought back. Are you as crazy as he is? I don't wan t to make him angry. I don't know how I'm going to survive as it is.

It is the only form of distraction that will work on Sir Thursday, replied th e Will. Distract him, and I will free myself and deliver the Fourth Key to yo u, Lord Arthur. Then he may be brought to justice.

I'm not making him angry here, Arthur thought back at the Will.

He considered where the least worst place would be to make Sir Thursday angry for a moment. Then he spoke aloud.

"There must be a big briefing room at the Citadel. For the marshals and so o n, to keep up with what's going on. Particularly with the siege happening."

"There is my operations room," snarled Sir Thursday. "There is no siege. It is only an inconvenience."

"I want to come out in the operations room, then," said Arthur. "Take me ther e. Or I'll throw us both off." "My revenge will be all the sweeter for your insults," said Sir Thursday . Arthur could hear him grinding his teeth between words. "It is merely de layed."

Arthur opened his mouth to answer, but he never had the chance, as unexpect edly to him at least, they left the Stair and suddenly re-entered the House . Immediately Sir Thursday struck back with his free hand, his bony fist sm ashing Arthur off his back and on to the floor. Dazed, the boy struggled to his feet. Before he could do any more than stand up, Sir Thursday was bell owing orders and there were plenty of Denizens rushing about to follow them.

"Hold that traitor! All is revealed! The enemy is led by the Piper, and all Piper's children must be executed before they can conduct any traitorous act ivity. Marshal Dawn, see to it immediately!"

Arthur felt his arms pulled back behind him. He struggled to lift his chin, finally managing it with the unintended help of someone who jerked his hea d back so they could get an arm around his neck.

He was in a large, domed room full of officers. The three standing with Sir Thursday were the tallest and most splendid, so they had to be Marshals Da wn, Noon, and Dusk. All three sported black eyes, and Noon had a bandage ar ound his right hand as well, which suggested that they had been in recent f ighting or that they did not always see things Sir Thursday's way. Arthur t hought the latter was more likely.

"We're not traitors!" Arthur croaked as he was hauled backwards towards a door. "Sir Thursday killed two of his own soldiers! He's not fit to comman d! I am an officer in the Glorious Army of the Architect too, and I demand to be "

He got no further, as Sir Thursday crossed the room in a single leap and pun ched him in the stomach. It hurt worse than anything Arthur had ever felt, w orse even than his broken leg. He couldn't breathe and for several seconds t hought he never would breathe, ever again. It was more frightening even than an asthma attack, because his chest felt actually broken, not just tight.

But after ten or twelve awful seconds, he did get a breath, as Sir Thursday 's attention was diverted by Marshal Dawn. Clad in the green of the Bordere rs, she stood out in a room dominated by scarlet headquarters uniforms, and also because unlike everyone else she strode towards Sir Thursday, rather than edging away from him.

"The lieutenant is correct. He has leveled a serious charge and it must be hea rd."

Sir Thursday's eyes narrowed to slits and he glided like a snake across the f loor towards the marshal.

"Must be heard? I have issued orders, have I not, Marshal Dawn? I want those Piper's children killed.''''

"Regulations state "

Sir Thursday slapped her in the face. She rocked back but did not try to defe nd herself, merely spitting out a tooth. Then she started again.

"Regulations state that a court of inquiry "

The next slap knocked her down and back onto her knees. But she stood up, and this time the other two marshals marched forward to stand with her.

"Sir, this is neither the time nor the correct " began Marshal Noon.

"Orders!" shrieked Sir Thursday. He turned and pointed at Arthur. "I am order ing my soldiers to kill all the Piper's children, starting with this one! Is there no one here who knows their duty?"

"n.o.body move!" snapped Marshal Dusk, his voice cold and penetrating. "That is not a legal order. We are soldiers, not gallows-hands."