that materialized in midair the instant he reached for it. There was a telephone inside. A very old telephone, with a separate earpiece on a cord and a bell-mouth to speak into.
“Mister Monday,” said Noon into the mouthpiece.
Arthur could hear someone muttering on the other end.
“This is official business, you fool,” snapped Noon. “What is your name and number?”
There was more muttering at the other end. Noon frowned again, then slowly and deliberately hung up the earpiece, let it sit for a moment, then took it up again.
“Operator? Mister Monday. Yes, at once. Yes, I know where I’m calling from! This is Monday’s Noon. Thank you.” There was a pause as Mister Monday was connected. “Sir? I have the boy trapped.”
Arthur clearly heard Mister Monday yawn before he replied. His voice not only came out of the earpiece, it echoed around the whole library.
“Have you the Minute Key? It must be brought back to me at once!”
“Not yet, sir,” replied Noon. “The boy is hiding in a…library.”
“I don’t care where he’s hiding!” screamed Monday. “Get the Key!”
“A library, sir,” said Noon patiently. “There is a lot of type. The Will could be here too—”
“The Will! The Will! I am so bored with this talk! Do whatever you have to! You have plenipotentiary powers! Use them!”
“I need that in writing, sir,” said Noon calmly. “The Morrow Days—”
There was a sound that was a cross between a yawn and a snarl, and a tightly bound scroll flew out of the earpiece. Moving so fast that Arthur didn’t see it happen, Noon ducked aside, and as the scroll shot past, he snatched it from the air with his free hand.
“Thank you, sir,” he said, and paused. There was no answer from the other end. Just a long snore.
Noon hung up the phone and carefully closed the cupboard. As the door shut, the phone cupboard dissolved into thin air.
Noon unrolled the scroll and read it. This time, a real smile fleetingly moved across his face, and a red light flashed briefly in his eyes. “This is your last chance to come out,” Noon said conversationally. “I can bring the Fetchers in now. They’ll soon root you out, Ar-tor.”
Arthur didn’t respond. Noon stood there, tapping the scroll against his thigh. Behind him, Mrs. Banber pulled herself up onto the desk and picked up the phone handset. Arthur watched them both, panicked, not knowing what he should do. Should he help Mrs. Banber? Should he give himself up? Maybe if he gave Noon the Key then they would leave him alone?
Mrs. Banber, her hand shaking so much she could hardly hold the phone, started to punch in a number. The keypad beeped, and Noon whirled. His wings exploded out behind and above him. Huge, feathery wings that had once been white and lustrous but now were stained with patches of something dark and horrid, something that might even be dried blood.
Noon’s wings cast a dreadful shadow over the librarian as he thrust out his hand and flexed his fingers. A fiery sword appeared in his fist, and he struck down at the phone, the flaming blade melting it in an instant, the papers on the desk exploding into flame. Mrs. Banber staggered away and collapsed near the front door as smoke billowed to the ceiling.
“Enough!” said Noon. He stalked to the front door, his wings still arched up behind him, and opened it.
“Come in, my Fetchers! Come and find the boy! Come and find Ar-tor!”
Chapter Six
B lack smoke rolled across the ceiling. A fire alarm began to clang and clatter outside, followed a second later by the whoop-whoop of the evacuation siren. The Fetchers came into the library with the sound, all in a rush, barking with excitement at being invited past the door.
Noon pointed at the shelves and the Fetchers bounded forward, many of them bent over so they could sniff at the floor, their tongues lolling and flat noses twitching. Sniffing for their prey. Arthur.
But Arthur hadn’t waited. He was already at the back
“Mister Monday,” said Noon into the mouthpiece.
Arthur could hear someone muttering on the other end.
“This is official business, you fool,” snapped Noon. “What is your name and number?”
There was more muttering at the other end. Noon frowned again, then slowly and deliberately hung up the earpiece, let it sit for a moment, then took it up again.
“Operator? Mister Monday. Yes, at once. Yes, I know where I’m calling from! This is Monday’s Noon. Thank you.” There was a pause as Mister Monday was connected. “Sir? I have the boy trapped.”
Arthur clearly heard Mister Monday yawn before he replied. His voice not only came out of the earpiece, it echoed around the whole library.
“Have you the Minute Key? It must be brought back to me at once!”
“Not yet, sir,” replied Noon. “The boy is hiding in a…library.”
“I don’t care where he’s hiding!” screamed Monday. “Get the Key!”
“A library, sir,” said Noon patiently. “There is a lot of type. The Will could be here too—”
“The Will! The Will! I am so bored with this talk! Do whatever you have to! You have plenipotentiary powers! Use them!”
“I need that in writing, sir,” said Noon calmly. “The Morrow Days—”
There was a sound that was a cross between a yawn and a snarl, and a tightly bound scroll flew out of the earpiece. Moving so fast that Arthur didn’t see it happen, Noon ducked aside, and as the scroll shot past, he snatched it from the air with his free hand.
“Thank you, sir,” he said, and paused. There was no answer from the other end. Just a long snore.
Noon hung up the phone and carefully closed the cupboard. As the door shut, the phone cupboard dissolved into thin air.
Noon unrolled the scroll and read it. This time, a real smile fleetingly moved across his face, and a red light flashed briefly in his eyes. “This is your last chance to come out,” Noon said conversationally. “I can bring the Fetchers in now. They’ll soon root you out, Ar-tor.”
Arthur didn’t respond. Noon stood there, tapping the scroll against his thigh. Behind him, Mrs. Banber pulled herself up onto the desk and picked up the phone handset. Arthur watched them both, panicked, not knowing what he should do. Should he help Mrs. Banber? Should he give himself up? Maybe if he gave Noon the Key then they would leave him alone?
Mrs. Banber, her hand shaking so much she could hardly hold the phone, started to punch in a number. The keypad beeped, and Noon whirled. His wings exploded out behind and above him. Huge, feathery wings that had once been white and lustrous but now were stained with patches of something dark and horrid, something that might even be dried blood.
Noon’s wings cast a dreadful shadow over the librarian as he thrust out his hand and flexed his fingers. A fiery sword appeared in his fist, and he struck down at the phone, the flaming blade melting it in an instant, the papers on the desk exploding into flame. Mrs. Banber staggered away and collapsed near the front door as smoke billowed to the ceiling.
“Enough!” said Noon. He stalked to the front door, his wings still arched up behind him, and opened it.
“Come in, my Fetchers! Come and find the boy! Come and find Ar-tor!”
Chapter Six
B lack smoke rolled across the ceiling. A fire alarm began to clang and clatter outside, followed a second later by the whoop-whoop of the evacuation siren. The Fetchers came into the library with the sound, all in a rush, barking with excitement at being invited past the door.
Noon pointed at the shelves and the Fetchers bounded forward, many of them bent over so they could sniff at the floor, their tongues lolling and flat noses twitching. Sniffing for their prey. Arthur.
But Arthur hadn’t waited. He was already at the back
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