Superior Saturday by Garth Nix Read Free Book Online

poesy.’
    ‘I wanted to ask you some questions,’ said Arthur. ‘And to tell you something.’
    ‘Ask away,’ said the Old One. ‘I shall answer if I choose. As for the telling, if I do not like what I hear, it shall not make me stray from my promise. Whatever your speech, you may still have safe passage hence. If you do not overstay your allotted time.’
    He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and proffered the jug. Arthur quickly shook his head, so the ancient drank again.
    ‘You probably know more than anyone about the Architect,’ said Arthur. ‘So I wanted to ask you what happened to her? And what is the Will exactly, and what is it ... she ... going to do? I mean, I’m supposed to be the Rightful Heir and all, and I thought that meant that I was going to end up in charge of everything, whether I wanted to or not. Only now I’m not so sure.’
    ‘I knew the Architect long ago,’ said the Old One slowly. He drank a series of smaller mouthfuls before speaking again. ‘Yet not so well as I thought, or I would not have suffered here so long. I do not know what happened to her, save that it must have been at least in part of her own choosing. As for the Will, it is an expression of her power, set up to achieve some end. If you are the Rightful Heir, I would suggest the question you need ask is this: what exactly are you to inherit, and from whom?’
    Arthur frowned.
    ‘I don’t want to be the Heir. I just want to get my old life back and make sure everyone is safe,’ he said. ‘But I can’t get everything sorted out without using the Keys, and that’s turning me into a Denizen. Scamandros made me a ring that says I’m six ... more than six parts in ten ... sorcerously contaminated, and it’s irreversible. So I will become a Denizen, right?’
    ‘Your body is assuming an immortal form—that is evident,’ said the Old One. ‘But not everything of immortal flesh is a Denizen. Remember, the Architect did not make the mortals of Earth. She made the stuff of life and sowed it across all creation. You mortals arose from the possibility she made and, though she always liked to think so, are consequently not of her direct design. There is more to you, and all mortals, than the simple flesh you inhabit.’
    ‘But can I become a normal boy again?’
    ‘I do not know.’ The Old One drained the last of the wine from the jug, then threw it far past the light of the clock. The sound of its shattering came faint and distant from the darkness, reassurance that there was still solid ground out there—at least for a little while longer. ‘In general, one cannot go back. But in going forward, you may achieve some of what you desired of the past. If you can survive, anything may happen.’ The Old One plucked another rose, careless of its thorns, and held it beneath his nose. ‘Perhaps you will even be given flowers. The clock ticks, Arthur. Your time is almost sped.’
    ‘I have so many questions,’ said Arthur. ‘Can you give me another ten—’
    The Old One put down his rose and looked at the boy with his fierce blue eyes, a gaze that would make the most superior Denizen quail and tremble.
    ‘Never mind.’ Arthur gulped. ‘I just wanted to tell you that if I do end up in charge of everything, I’ll do my best to set you free. It isn’t right that the puppets should torture you.’
    The Old One blinked and took up the rose again.
    ‘I honour you for that. But look—the puppets are no more. As the House has weakened, I have grown stronger. An hour ago, the clock shivered, and I felt Nothing draw close. The puppets felt it too, and as is their duty, came forth before their time, to prevent a rescue or an attempted escape. I fought with them, broke them, and cast them down.
    ‘I am still chained, but as the House falls, my strength will grow, and my prison will weaken. In time, I will be free, or so these flowers promise me. I have been stripping the petals to throw upon my enemies. The puppets do