Lord Sunday

“I s’pose,” said Phineas. He scratched the bridge of his nose. “We’d have to cut between the hedges here, get on to the Garden Path…pick up a dragon—”

“A dragon?”

“Dragonfly,” said Phineas. “Big ones, fitted for riding. Only I’ve never ridden one, though I s’pect they’d do what you tell them. Anyhow, we get on a dragon and fly towards the sunset – have to wait for it, of course, cos Lord Sunday moves the sun around, but the Elysium always faces the setting sun.”

“If he likes it so much, there must be a good chance Lord Sunday will be there himself,” Arthur guessed.

“I dunno,” said Phineas. “There’s a lot of Garden. You could sort him out though, couldn’t you? What with being…what did you say?…the Rightful Heir and all that.”

Yes, I could, thought the angry, boastful part of Arthur. But his more sensible side said quite the opposite, remembering what he had been told about the Keys, and how the Seventh Key was paramount over all.

I’d have to find the Will quickly enough to get its help to force Lord Sunday to relinquish the Seventh Key, thought Arthur. But if I run into Lord Sunday first, I’ll be toast. Perhaps I should get help first, like Part Six of the Will said…

“I wouldn’t mind seeing you and Lord Sunday have a punch-up,” remarked Phineas eagerly. “That’d be right promising, I reckon.”

“You’d probably get killed just watching,” said Arthur bleakly, remembering the Keys being used in battle back in the Great Maze, and when Saturday had first broached the Gardens.

He shook his head and took out the Fifth Key.

“I have to go somewhere,” he said. “Don’t tell anyone I was here, all right? And make sure this house…this Garden bed stays weed free.”

Phineas nodded, but his dark eyes were fixed on the mirror, intent on what Arthur was going to do.

Arthur held the mirror up, looked into it and tried once more to visualise Thursday’s room. At first he saw only his reflection, but that wavered and he felt a surge of relief as the now-familiar carpet with its battle-scene motif slowly coalesced into a solid view, with the rest of the room shimmering into focus around it. But just as it was about to become entirely crisp and real, the mirror shook in his hand and the vision wavered. Arthur frowned and gripped his wrist with his left hand to steady it, but the mirror continued to shake and twist, as if someone else was trying to take it away from him.

“Steady!” hissed Arthur, exerting his willpower to keep the mirror still and the scene in view. But just as he had with the Atlas, he felt an opposing force, one that grew stronger and stronger, until the Fifth Key flew from his grasp and clattered on to the floor.

Arthur clenched his fist, but seeing Phineas watching him so intently, he managed to contain his anger. Instead of punching the walls, he knelt down and picked up the mirror, slipping it back into his pouch.

“Maybe I won’t be going after all,” he said. “How do we get out of here?”

“Through the hedge,” said Phineas. “It’ll open for me, being a Gardener and all. Just stay close behind.”

He touched the hedge that blocked the kitchen door and a boy-sized hole opened in the greenery.

“Come on, bigger than that!” said Phineas. The hole grew large enough for Arthur. Phineas put one leg through it, then hopped back again. “My fork! Can I have it back, please, sir?”

“Yes,” said Arthur. “Do you want it lit?”

“Oh, that’s all right,” said Phineas. “I’ll swap it for another one. I just have to have one to hand in.”

He climbed through the hole.

Arthur looked around the kitchen and glanced up at the ceiling, to the room above where his mother was trapped in a small circuit of time.

At least I know where Mum is, he thought heavily, then stepped through the hedge.

He found himself in a cool green alley between two hedges that were at least fifty feet tall. Above them he could see a perfect blue sky with a faint touch of white clouds – it looked like it might have been painted by some old master, and possibly was. He couldn’t see a sun, but there was a source of illumination somewhere above for the sky was very light. Probably the sun moved along a track, just like the suns in other parts of the House, though Arthur guessed that the one here would be more impressive and move more smoothly than in any other demesne.

“Which way?” asked Arthur. “Left or right?”

“Oh, this way,” said Phineas, pointing with his fork. “Four hedge junctions this way, then we take a left, go three junctions, take a right, two junctions, left again, straight on past four junctions, and then through another hedge and we’ll be at the Garden Path, which the dragonflies fly along all the time and sometimes the guard beetles run along, though you wouldn’t be scared of them.”

Arthur thought of the beetles he’d seen fighting Lady Friday’s forces. He’d almost been bitten in half by one himself.

“How many beetles, and how often do they go along this path?”

“Oh, half a dozen at a time, I guess,” said Phineas. He started walking along the alley, idly thwacking the hedges on either side with his fork. “But you don’t see them around that often.”

They walked in silence for a while after that. It was pleasantly cool between the hedges, with the dappled green light and the beautiful blue sky above. They combined to almost lull Arthur into a sense of peacefulness, but he knew it was only an illusion. He was thinking hard about what he could and should do.

“Are there telephones here?” he asked as they approached the first junction, where two hedge-bordered alleys crossed at a broad, paved plaza. Arthur stayed close to the hedge, keeping in its shadow.