Mister Monday: Chapter Five

[teres]

Chapter Four | Table of Contents | Chapter Six

Vermaanti: A good day, and welcome back to Mister Monday, everyone! Last time, things began to ramp up, and Arthur discovered that an epidemic was brewing. Let’s see what will happen now!

 

We open on Arthur staring at the last words of the email: “im afraid”. He shivers, and puts the print-out in his pocket. He notes his breathing starting to catch, and so he concentrates on keeping it under control, while meanwhile, his mind is racing. “This was even worse than the thought.”

He says that all the fears he has been fighting to keep under control are threatening to send him into “total panic”. I mean, this is too much for him to take in at once. He notes the old fear of a new outbreak, and the newer fear of the dog-faces, Monday, “and even of the Key itself.” He tells himself to breathe and think it through.

Then he sorts out his questions: Why has he been given the Key and the Atlas? Who or what are Monday and the dog-faces? Are they really connected to this “sudden outbreak of drug-resistant influenza”? He wonders if it even is an outbreak, or if it just limited to Ed and Leaf’s family.

He looks out the window again, and accidentally touches the Key and the Atlas. When he does so, he feels a “sharp electrical shock” (very nice), and the Atlas flips open, which “mak[es] him jump like a startled cat.” The Atlas quickly fills up the space in his fort of books.

This time, the Atlas does not show the House. Instead, it sketches one of the dog-faces, this one without the fancy clothing, as they are “wearing something like a sack”, thought there is no mistaking the face. Words are written next to the picture, “written by some unseen hand.” The words are in a “strange alphabet” that he doesn’t recognise, let alone can read, but as he watches, the letters change into the “normal alphabet” (just say “Latin alphabet”. It’s not more “normal” because you’re used to it), and the words change into English, “though the type [is] still weird and old-fashioned.” Not the best localisation, I must say. Every now and then, “a blot of ink” appears, and is hastily wiped away. Okay, that’s just adorable. Finally, words stop appearing, and Arthur reads what’s there.

The Atlas begins by stating that the House was built from “Nothing” (with a capital letter), and that its foundations rest upon Nothing. Yet, “Nothing is for ever and the House is but eternal”. Um, I don’t think I entirely get the distinction… Oh, I think, based on what we will see later, that this means: “the House will not change or deteriorate if left alone, but can be changed by outside influence, while the Nothing cannot be changed in any way and will always stay the same.” Yes, that makes sense. Because of this state of affairs, the foundations of the House slowly sink into the Nothing, “and Nothing so impinges upon the House.” Sounds concerning. It explains that “[i]n the very deepest cellars, sinks and oubliettes”, it is possible to draw on Nothing and shape it with one’s thoughts, of those thoughts are strong enough. This is forbidden “in custom, if not in law”, and it is too often tried “by those who should know better.” It says that this is not “the high treason of treating with the Nithlings, those self-willed beings that occasionally emerge from Nothing, with scant regard for Time or reason.” Yes, all of this will be important later on. I can’t help but notice that the Atlas presumes that Arthur’s already familiar with the Nithlings, which he isn’t. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t have the whole Key, and so the Atlas doesn’t know what he wants to do very well? I mean, we don’t get goofs like that later on, in other circumstances…

Well, the Atlas says that a “typical shaping of Nothing is the Fetcher”, as per the illustration. Good, I don’t have to call them “dog-faces” anymore. “Fetcher” fits quite nicely, I must say. The Atlas says they’re creatures “of a very low degree”, that are typically made for a specific purpose. Contrary to the “Original Law”, they’re now often used in the Secondary Realms, because they’re “extremely durable”, and “less inimical to mortal life than most creatures of Nothing (or indeed those of higher orders from within the House).” Monday belongs to those “higher orders”, for instance. Also, “less inimical” is not exactly reassuring.

The Atlas explains further that they’re bound by “certain strictures”, like being unable to cross thresholds uninvited (which we probably already guessed), and they can be easily dispelled “by salt or numerous other petty magics.” So Arthur has a way to fight back! True, salt isn’t exactly easy to come by now, but he could conceivably find it in the school.

The Atlas keeps explaining, saying that “perhaps one in a million Fetchers” finds or is granted enlightenment, and can be employed in the House. Mostly, they’re returned to Nothing when their task is done. Well, at least that means that the Fetchers from the previous week are gone…

It says that Fetchers should “never be issued with wings or weapons, and must at all times be given clear direction.” Well, Monday clearly didn’t care about that rule at all. And here the explanation ends.

He thinks back to the winged Fetcher, and says that “[s]omebody” has ignored the advice about not giving them wings. He says he’d not be surprised if the Fetchers outside would also have weapons, though he doesn’t want to think about what kind of weapons.

He now tries to turn the pages of the Atlas to look for more information, but it won’t turn. He can see that there are lots of other pages, but “they [may] as well have been glued into a single mass.” He can’t even get his fingernail in between. So it’s basically the same as in the hospital earlier, only now he can access one page at a time. Which might of course be very helpful, if he can find out how to use this.

Arthur gives up and looks out the window again. He is surprised to see that the Fetchers have moved while he was busy with the Atlas. They now stand in a ring in the middle of the road, and they’re all “looking up”. Ominous. A couple of cars have stopped for them, but the drivers obviously can’t see what’s in their way. Arthur can hear one of them shout to “[g]et that heap of junk outta here”. Hmmm, I’m quite sure they’ve been outfitted with some kind of glamour in case they’re noticed. Not that I know that much about it; CB’s much better at this kind of stuff.

The Fetchers look up at the sky. Arthur looks too, but he can’t see anything, and part of him doesn’t want to, because of his rising fear. We then get thoughts from “part of his mind” (?), that tells him not to look, because if he doesn’t see it, it doesn’t exist. He tells that part that it does, while he “fight[s] down the fear.” He tells himself to keep breathing slowly, and that he “[has] to confront [his] fears” and deal with them.

Hmmm. It’s certainly fine that he wants to deal with his fears, and also fine that he wants to see the Fetchers. On the other hand, his fears are not without ground, and he is in real danger. Yes, seeing the Fetchers directly helps him get his fears under control, but it also means that the person who will probably arrive now will immediately know where he is. Then again, keeping his fears under control is necessary to be able to do anything at all… It’s complicated. Oh well, that’s what I like in this series in the first place.

Anyway, he keeps looking, until “an intense white light flashe[s] just above the ring.” Arthur has to look away, and when he looks back, “black spots dance[] everywhere in his vision” and it takes some seconds before he can see. Nice detail to include here. Now the empty space in the ring is no longer empty, because a man has appeared there. Or, Arthur says, “not really a man”, because he has massive “feathery wings” coming from his shoulders. That doesn’t exactly mean much in and of itself, I must say. Arthur keeps blinking, “trying to focus.” The wings are white, and “dappled with something dark and unpleasant-looking.” Nice.

Then the wings fold up and disappear, “leaving only a very handsome, tall man of about thirty.” He is dressed “in a white shirt with chin-scraping collar points, a red necktie, a gold waistcoat under a bottle-green coat, and tan pantaloons over glossy brown boots—an ensemble that ha[s] not been in fashion for more than a hundred and fifty years.” Nice outfit.

At this moment, someone speaks from behind Arthur. They say that the man is “[t]he very spit of” how they’d always imagined “Mister Darcy”. Ah, that’s certainly the right time period. They decide he must be an actor, and wonder why he’s dressed up like that. Arthur sees that it’s “Mrs Banber”, the librarian, who crept up on Arthur while he wasn’t looking. Oh, at least there’s someone else who can see all the weird happenings. That’s certainly good news!

She then asks who “those strange men in the black suits” are. She doesn’t think the faces can be real, and asks if they’re making a film. Arthur asks her, incredulously, if she can actually see the Fetchers. Huh, I guess she has the same thing going on as Leaf, which confirms that there’s some kind of magical stuff going on in this setting that’s not explicitly connected to the House. Nice bit of worldbuilding!

Mrs Banber says “absently” that she can, though she says that she “must be overdue for an eye checkup”, as she doesn’t think her contact lenses work right. She says the people are “rather blurry”. I guess that would be the glamour that’s been placed on them. It certainly is an oversight on Monday’s part, though, and one that makes Leaf, for example, invaluable in the later books (not so much for being able to see this, though, as much as believing Arthur in the first place).

She turns around and looks at Arthur, saying that she can see him all right. She asks what he’s doing with “all those books”, and points at the Atlas. Arthur says it’s nothing, and quickly shuts the Atlas and lets go of the Key. The Atlas immediately shrinks back down to pocket size. Banber asks what happened with it, and Arthur says he can’t explain, mentally saying that he doesn’t have time for this. The man is walking toward the library now, with the Fetchers in tow. He looks a bit like Monday, “though much more energetic” (not that that’s a high threshold), and Arthur isn’t sure at all that he can’t cross thresholds.

He asks Banber “urgently” if she has salt. She does not seem to hear him, and Arthur sees she’s looking out the window again “and smoothing her hair”. Her eyes “[have] gone unfocused and dreamy.” Ah, great, she’s dazzled by him, it seems. She says that he’s coming into the library, and I can only think she sounds excited over it.

Arthur grabs the Atlas and the Key and puts them back into his backpack. They glow a bit as he does so, “shedding a soft yellow light that momentarily [falls] on Mrs Banber’s face.” He tells her “urgently” not to tell the man that he’s here. “Either the fear in his voice or that brief light from the Atlas and the Key” breaks Banber free from the man’s spell. She suddenly looks “less dreamy”.

She “snap[s]” that she doesn’t know what’s going, but she doesn’t like it. She says that no one will come into her library “without permission”, and she tells Arthur to hide behind the “zoology books”. She will deal with the man. I appreciate her bravery, but I doubt she could do that much to him. Then again, giving Arthur time to come up with a plan or escape is worth it, too. It only comes with a quite large risk… Arthur immediately follows Banber’s advice, hurrying into the maze of shelves as fast as he dares to. He can already feel an asthma attack rising, because of his “[s]tress and fear”.

Once he reaches the zoology section, he crouches down, so he can see the front door, where Banber is at the front desk. She is angrily checking in books, her scanner beeping every few seconds. Arthur tries to breathe slowly, thinking that perhaps the man can’t come in. And if he’s waiting in the front, “Arthur [can] escape through the staff entrance he’[s] seen at the back.” Then a shadow falls across the door. Oh no. Arthur’s breath stops. For a moment he thinks he can’t breathe anymore, but luckily, it turns it he can. As he “[gets] the rest of his breath”, the man stops before the door. He reaches out with “one white-gloved hand” and pushes the door open. Arthur briefly thinks he can’t cross the threshold, but then the man steps inside. As he does so, “the antitheft scanners [give] a plaintive beep and the green lights on top [go] out.” No idea why this is happening. Maybe his magic interferes with the scanners?

Mrs Banber is out from her desk “in a flash”. She says “frostily” that this is a school library, and visitors have to report at the front office first. In response, the man names himself “Noon”. Arthur notes his voice is “deep and musical”, and he sounds like a “famous British actor”. He says he is the “Private Secretary and Cupbearer to Mister Monday” (not that those titles mean much), and he is looking for a boy, “Ar-tor”.

Arthur notes he has a literal “silver tongue” that shines in his mouth. His words are “smooth and shining too”, and Arthur feels like revealing himself. Ah yes, magical persuasion. Though the kind I know of needs the subject to be known, so Noon’s more dangerous than one might expect. Banber obviously is likewise affected. She trembles and her hand rises, as if she’s going to point to where Arthur is hiding. Somehow, she manages to put her hand back down. She says she doesn’t care. She “seem[s] smaller and her voice [is] suddenly weak.” She tells him that he has to report— Noon asks her if she can’t allow “a few words”, to which Banber whispers “no”. I’m impressed she managed to keep it together for so long.

Noon says it’s a pity, and his voice “[grows] colder, authoritarian and threatening.” He gives a cruel smile that “[does] not extend beyond his thin lips.” Then he runs a finger along the top of a display stand and holds it in front of Banber’s face. The tip of his glove is “stained with grey dust.” Banber stares at the finger “as if it were her eye doctor’s flashlight”. Noon says that “[s]pring cleaning” must be done, and blows the dust in her face. She “blink[s] once, sneeze[s] twice, and [falls] to the ground.” Eek. I don’t really know what he did here, but if he can knock someone out by blowing dust in their face, he’s a good threat indeed.

Noon steps over Banber and stalks past the front desk. Arthur momentarily thinks she’s dead, but he soon sees her trying to get up again. Noon softly calls out Arthur’s name, “eyeing the shelves with obvious suspicion.” He calls out his name again, and says he only wants to talk. As if Arthur would fall for this.

Once again, he feels the urge to reveal himself, but there’s “a countervailing force from the Key and the Atlas in his backpack. A soothing vibration, like a kitten purring, that reduce[s] the force of Noon’s words.” He opens the bag, takes the Key in his hand, and puts the Atlas in his shirt pocket. Both are “immensely comforting”, and Arthur can even breathe better.

Noon frowns at Arthur not coming out, and then he opens “a small cupboard that materialise[s] in midair the instant he reache[s] for it.” There is a very old telephone inside, “with a separate earpiece on a cord and a bell-mouth to speak into.” Huh, that’s one way of getting wireless connection, and it’s presumably more reliable, too.

Noon asks for Mister Monday. Arthur can hear someone mutter from the other end, and Noon snaps that it’s “official business”, and asks the operator for their “name and number”. Well, he’s certainly a quite unpleasant person. There comes more muttering from the operator. Noon frowns again, “slowly and deliberately” hangs up, lets the earpiece hang for some time, and then takes it up again.

He again asks for Mister Monday, saying that he wants to be connected at once. He then says that the knows where he’s calling from, and pulls rank. The operator connects him, and Noon says that he has Arthur trapped. Arthur can clearly hear Monday yawn before he responds. His voice doesn’t just come from the earpiece, “it echoe[s] around the whole library.” Monday asks if Noon has the “Minute Key”, because it has to be brought to him immediately. Noon says not yet, because Arthur’s hiding in a library. Monday screams that he doesn’t care, and Noon has to get the Key.

Noon says patiently that it’s a library (he’s probably got more than enough experience with how to navigate with Monday), and that there is “a lot of type”, so the Will could be in there. Monday says he’s so bored of “this talk”, and Noon should just use his “plenipotentiary powers.” Noon calmly says that he needs it in writing, because of the Morrow Days. There comes “a sound that [is] a cross between a yawn and a snarl”, and a “tightly bound scroll” flies out of the earpiece. That’s a useful combination! Noon manages to pluck the scroll from the air as it flies past. He thanks Monday, but there’s only a “long snore” from the other end. Well, that was Monday, for the time being.

Noon hangs up the phone and closes the cupboard, which “dissolve[s] into thin air.” Then he unrolls the scroll and reads it. He smiles for real “and a red light flashe[s] briefly in his eyes.” He tells Arthur this is his last chance to come out, and he can send in the Fetchers, who’ll root Arthur out soon. Arthur doesn’t respond. Noon stands there, “tapping the scroll against his thigh.” Behind him, Banber pulls herself up to the desk and picks up the “phone handset”. Arthur watches, “not knowing what he should do.” He wonders if he should help Banber, if he should give himself up, and if maybe everyone will leave him alone if he gives Noon the Key.

Banber, whose hand “shake[s] so much she [can] hardly hold the phone”, begins typing a number. The keypad beeps, and Noon turns on her, his wings spreading out behind him. Arthur notes they’re stained with “patches of something dark and horrid, something that might even be dried blood.”

Noon summons a “fiery sword” (poor Mrs Banber), and he strikes at the telephone. It melts in an instant, and the papers on the desk ignite. Banber “stagger[s] away” and collapses near the door as smoke billows up.

Noon says enough as he stalks the front door, and he opens it. The chapter ends like this: “Come in, my Fetchers! Come and find the boy! Come and find Ar-tor!” Well, seems like Arthur’s in deep trouble! How the confrontation will develop is something we’ll see next time, though. Until then!