Lord Sunday by Garth Nix

Author:Garth Nix
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 0100-12-31T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

A rthur waited anxiously for Elephant’s return. The steady tick of the clock did nothing to help his nervousness, which increased as the time dragged on and his childhood friend did not come back. An hour passed, then two, and as the hour hand moved to the three, Arthur found his chains long enough for him to step a short distance away from the clock face. At six, he guessed they might be long enough for him to reach the edge of the terrace and look down. He tried not to think of what he might see, but he couldn’t help visualising many images of his Elephant, dead or captured.

In any case, that was three hours away. Three more hours of waiting.

I need to think of another plan, Arthur told himself. But try as he might, he couldn’t, and he found himself thinking again about Lord Sunday’s offer. That made him remember A Compleat Atlas of the House. It had been blocked before, but there was always a slim chance…

Arthur took it out from inside his coveralls. The book had fallen down to his waistband and it was quite difficult to get it out, his manacled wrists clashing as he did so. He sat on the edge of the clock and rested the Atlas on his knees. As before, it opened and slowly grew to its full size.

“Tell me how I can get these manacles off,” said Arthur. He thought for a second, and added, “Or undo the chains from the clock.”

A blob of ink appeared, giving Arthur a moment’s hope that the Atlas was going to write something. But it didn’t. The blob spread and several more blotches materialised, none of them looking anything like a letter. Arthur watched them for a few seconds in case they formed a pattern, or a sketch or something that would help him, but they remained mere ink stains, devoid of meaning.

He was about to ask another question when he caught a faint sound on the wind – a kind of whirring noise that he instantly recognised as one of Sunday’s dragonflies. Quickly Arthur shut the Atlas and as it shrank he stuffed it back down his front. Looking up, he saw a dragonfly commence its approach to once again end up hovering nearby. A rope ladder came clattering down and Lord Sunday descended.

The Trustee was alone this time. He looked around, satisfied himself that all was secure, then approached Arthur, making sure not to stand too close to the clock. Even from several paces away, and without Lord Sunday having to hold his Key, Arthur could feel the power of it pushing him down, making him feel like a servant or a beggar, or maybe, since they were in the Incomparable Gardens, some small worm to be stepped on and forgotten.

“Have you reconsidered?” asked Lord Sunday.

“I’m thinking about it,” Arthur answered honestly. “Can I ask you some questions?”

“You may have fifteen minutes,” said Lord Sunday. He looked at the clock. “There are currently many matters that require my attention and I do not wish to waste my time.

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