Teres

Chapter Eight | Table of Contents | Chapter Nine (Part II)

Vermaanti: A good day, everyone, and welcome back to Mister Monday! Last time, Arthur managed to avoid going to the quarantine hospital, the Will created a cloudburst to help him escape, and he was about to step through Monday’s Postern. Let’s see what will happen now!

Arthur does indeed step through, “but not onto solid ground. Not onto any ground”. Well, that was… not entirely unexpected, but still a big problem. I do wonder how this can happen, though, because I would expect him to step in with one foot first. Maybe he was transported as soon as he stepped in?

Well, he screams as he realises that he is falling, and the Postern is “not behind him but above him, a doorway of bright light where all else [is] darkness”. It is receding every second as he falls. So it looks like he’s indeed been transported to somewhere else, and that he probably won’t be able to reach the Postern again.

“Arthur’s scream fade[s]” as he realises that he isn’t falling very fast. He compares it to “sinking in water”, though he doesn’t get wet and can breathe just fine. I think that means there is no gravity in here, and so he’s falling only because he walked in with some speed. And, since there is air here, it means that he will eventually come to a stop, though that will probably be quite far from the Postern.

Since he is not falling so fast, Arthur tries kicking “to see if it slow[s] his fall”. He can’t tell very well with only the Postern as reference, but it does seem to have some effect. He kicks again and tries “some strokes” with his free hand, which also seems to work. He thinks about putting the Key in his belt and “trying some full-on swimming” (but would his asthma get in the way? I honestly don’t know). Just then, the Key “jerk[s] in his hand”.

A second later it jerks again, “much harder, like a fisherman’s strike setting a hook in a fish”. And then the Key “rocket[s] forward”, almost tearing out of Arthur’s grip. He says that if he hadn’t tightened his grip, he would have lost it and fallen again. Hmmm, I doubt that would have exactly happened; the Key did return to him earlier, after all. As for why it’s doing this… my best guess is that it’s the same as deflecting Noon’s sword earlier: it is trying to keep Arthur alive by sending him toward the House.

He holds on as tightly as he can and manages to get his other hand on the Key, too, “the muscles in his forearms taut from the effort”. The Key keeps accelerating “like a tiny rocket, fortunately without the flaming exhaust”, and drags Arthur along. He can’t see anything at all, and without feeling the air rush past or anything to look at, he finds it hard to tell how fast he’s going.

But “somehow” he feels that the Key is still going faster. After a while, the end of the Key begins glowing red and sparks fly off it. Then that means the tip has a temperature of several hundreds degrees Celsius, so he must be going very fast. Arthur flinches and tries to turn his face away, but it’s not necessary, as “the sparks [fly] out at an oblique angle, as if there [is] some sort of shield around him”, and the end he holds remains cold. So we can see the Key is actively protecting him.

A long time goes by. Arthur tries to look on his watch, but it has slipped down and he doesn’t dare to let go of the Key to turn it back. He tries “counting seconds and then minutes”, but he keeps forgetting how far he is. Eventually he gives up. He is sure that at least an hour has passed. His fingers are “very cramped and sore”, and his shoulders hurt, too. “But not as much as they should have.” Once again, he is aware of the Key “lessening pain and stiffness”, the same way it helps him breathe.

Eventually, he even gets bored, and looks around, hoping to see anything at all in the darkness. But he can’t see anything aside from the glow of they Key and the sparks. Occasionally, when a spark fades away, he thinks he can see “just the hint of shapes moving parallel with him”, but when he looks even harder, he cannot see anything. Well, that is… unsettling, to say the least.

Finally, he gets afraid again, thinking that he might just never arrive anywhere. Just then, the Key abruptly changes direction, and Arthur yelps as he’s pulled along. (So why couldn’t the Key make a rounder turn? It shouldn’t be that hard to do, I think.)

Now he can see something ahead. Yay! It is a “pinprick of light” that quickly grows to a dot and then a rectangle. As he gets closer, Arthur can see it’s another “illuminated doorway”, much bigger than Monday’s Postern. He says they will slam into it at a very high speed, “at least a hundred miles an hour” (161 kilometres an hour), and he will “be smashed into a pulp”. Well, that depends on what is behind the portal. If there’s an open space after it, you could fly on for a bit, and I can hardly predict what would happen after that, though it probably wouldn’t be nice. Of course, that is assuming that speed will be conserved, which doesn’t have to be true.

To be honest, having the reveal that he does indeed fly out with this speed because Monday messed with it or something wouldn’t be all that out there for this series, and Arthur getting horribly injured would also be quite on-brand, so if I didn’t know what happened, I would not rule this out.

Also… why doesn’t he let go if he fears he’ll be smashed to a pulp? Is he afraid of getting lost again? It’s fine, but I might have liked some more context.

Well, just as he’s about to hit, he closes his eyes… “and [falls] over something, going no faster than if he’d tripped walking around his bedroom with his nose glued to a book.” Yay, he’s fine! Going by this, I guess he was transported to the other side of the void, and the Postern didn’t consider the intervening time? So he walks in on Earth and comes out the other side walking and immediately trips because he wasn’t walking the moment before? Going by Grim Tuesday, that would make sense… It would just be nice if we got some more explanations of what is exactly happening sometimes.

Arthur opens his eyes, flails a bit and then “smack[s] into the ground”. He lies there for a bit, “feeling a tremendous surge of relief as he [feels] honest-to-goodness solid matter under his hands”. He is still holding the Key, which no longer glows, and since he doesn’t feel “significant pain”, he thinks that he doesn’t have broken bones or other damage. Still, that was quite some trouble to even get into the House, and if he’d lost the Key at any point, he wouldn’t be here at all. I do like that even something like this is tense in this series.

He wonders where he is, and he becomes aware that “he [is] lying on grass”. He slowly gets up and looks around. The first thing he notices is “that the light [is] strange”. It’s “[d]im and cool and orange-pink”, like sunset when the sun “[hangs] low and orange”, but he can’t see any sun.

As for where he is… he is standing on “a bare, high hill of close-mown grass” that oversees a “sea of white”. Arthur quickly corrects that to a “fog bank” that stretches as far as he can see. He can see buildings in the fog, like spires and towers, but they are too far away for him to be able to see “any identifying features”. That’s a very nice view, I’d say.

Arthur then looks up, expecting to see the sky, but he doesn’t and he “instinctively crouche[s] at what he [sees] instead”. I love this little detail! It’s just nicely realistic. It turns out there is no sky. Instead, there is a “vast domed ceiling of dull silver” that stretches out for miles. Its “epicentre” is some 600 feet (~180 metres) above the hill he stands on. “Swirls of purple and orange” move across the dome, providing the light there is.

Then, a voice from behind him says “Pretty, ain’t it?” Jumpscare! We are told that it is a “man’s voice, deep and slow”. It is not threatening, “just the sort of remark anyone at a lookout might make to another visitor”. And one I fully agree with.

Well, Arthur jumps and nearly falls again as he looks for the speaker. He can only see “an enormous free-standing door of dark-oiled wood between gateposts of white stone” on the crest of the hill. So that is the portal he just went through. (I always picture it as much smaller for some reason.) Arthur thinks that “door” is inadequate, and he thinks it is more of a gate, because it is easily “three or four times the size of his parents’ garage door”.

The door is also decorated with “wrought-iron climbing vines and clever curlicues” that form differing shapes and designs depending on where and how you look at them. Arthur compares it to a puzzle. He looks at it a bit, and sees a tree, which can also be “a sea horse if he tilt[s] his head” (are we sure the designs remain static?), and the tail of the seahorse can also be “a comet surrounded by stars”, and the stars join together to form a ship…

Arthur blinks and sees “completely different shapes and pictures”. He blinks again and looks away. He says the door is dangerous, as he feels that the “patterns and shapes” can trap him into staring at them forever. Oh, certainly. I would love to have something like that, and be able to look at shape after shape, and see them constantly metamorphosing into each other… Who knows, I might just see something that I’ve always wanted to see… So yeah, I can certainly see why this would be dangerous.

He then wonders where the being that just spoke to him is. He looks around, but there is only the door and the hill. “A vast door that appeared to go nowhere, standing stark and alone.” Arthur walks around the door and finds, to his unsurprise, that the other side is exactly the same. Well, then I guess the person spoke from inside the door, so from the void that Arthur was just in. He thinks that it might only be a sculpture, “meant to make an artistic statement”. But “deep down”, he knows that the door does not lead to the other side of the hill if opened.

Just then, the voice speaks again, saying that there will be “[s]hift change” soon and then he will see “something worth seeing.” Arthur asks where the speaker is. They sound surprised at this, and apparently take “a step to the left” to appear. The ironwork takes on the “shape of a man”, and then the shape steps out of the door, and takes physical form. Interesting.

We then get some description of the man. He is “tall [and] calm-looking”, he seems to be about the same age as Bob, and he has “long white hair that flow[s] down and over his shoulders”. (Good to have my mental image be set right.) He is wearing quite old-fashioned clothes, like Monday and co. With him, that means “a blue swallow-tailed coat with gold buttons and a single gold epaulette on his left shoulder, over a snowy white shirt, tan breeches, and shiny knee boots with turned-down tops.” In his left hand he has a “scabbarded sword”, which he grips below the hilt. “Two golden tassels” fall over his wrist. Arthur says it doesn’t look like he’s about to use the weapon.

The man first apologises, as he sometimes “forget[s] himself”. He introduces himself as “the Lieutenant Keeper of the Front Door”. He addresses Arthur as “bearer of the Lesser Key of the Lower House” and salutes to him. At least we have some more terminology now. The Lieutenant Keeper then offers a hand to Arthur. Arthur gives his name and shakes hands. He notes the Keeper’s hand is “strangely smooth and cool”, though not repellent. He keeps the Key in his left hand and hold it tightly, because he wonders why the Keeper called it “the Lesser Key”. Not sure why that indicates that the Keeper might want to take it, but whatever.

Arthur asks where he is, and the Keeper says it’s the “Lower Atrium of the House”, and they are on “Doorstop Hill”. Which… honestly doesn’t explain all that much, but it’s still nice to know (and “Doorstop Hill” is fun. Nix is good at that kind of names). Arthur is about to ask another question when that thought is “upstaged by” a shaft of light that shoots from the base of the hill to the ceiling. A moment later, there’s a shaft in the other direction, and soon, there are hundreds, if not thousands going back and forth. Together, they give an illumination that is “similar to, but not quite the same as, daylight”.

By this point, the fog has also started to break up, so he can see that there is “a whole city” below the hill. He says the architecture is “strikingly reminiscent” of the House back on Earth, only here there are “broad streets” between the buildings. So… does that mean that the House, when it manifests in one of the “Secondary Realms”, looks like whatever buildings are closest to where Monday’s Postern opens? That means that it can lead to other places, though it apparently leads mostly to the Front Door. I didn’t think of that before…

Arthur now asks what the beams of light are. The Keeper explains those are elevators. (I’d forgotten what they actually looked like, so this is nice to have.) He further explains that it’s “shift change”, the night is ending, the day begins, and the elevators carry people to rest or to work and “convey[] all the matters and moments that must be dealt with in this new day.”

Arthur then says “What work? What… who?” (I get your confusion, Arthur.) The Keeper says he doesn’t have time to answer questions. It might be shift change, but his relief has not shown up for “ten thousand years”, and the “Captain Keeper” has not made his rounds, either. So he has been stuck doing this for 10000 years! That seems like it would get dreadfully boring, and I think he’s quite happy to be able to talk to Arthur. (This will be relevant later on, too.)

Well, he must return to his post, because the greatest danger is at shift change and he should be on guard. He gives Arthur some “counsel”: “hide the Key from prying eyes”. He also decides to give Arthur his “spare shirt and watch cap”, so he will not look too much out of place. He wishes Arthur good luck.

The Keeper salutes again, and steps back into the door. His outline fades, and Arthur looks away to keep from being ensnared by the door. So he misses “a shirt and a knitted cap” forming in the door, before they fall out. That’s very nice of the Keeper. Arthur puts on the shirt over his own clothing. It’s made of “white linen”, has “long tails” and is much too big for him. It has “a weird detachable collar and no buttons on the cuffs”, and he has to fold back the sleeves a few times. The watch cap is “a dark blue circular cap” (thank you for confirming) that is made from something like felt.

He then thinks about the advice to hide the Key. He thinks it’s good, and there’s something about the Keeper “that he instinctively like[s] and trust[s]”, but how can he hide it if he needs it to breathe properly? Then he wonders if he really needs to hold it. It’s an entirely different world from Earth, after all.

He hesitates, and then “experimentally” opens his hand and balances the Key on the palm of his hand. He doesn’t feel different, though the Key is, of course, still touching him. Then he goes down on one knee, hesitates again, and then “tip[s] the Key on to the grass”. He half expects his asthma to come back as the Key falls, but it doesn’t. He can still breathe easily and he isn’t struck by “any sudden pains or tightness of the chest”. He feel just the same, and he realises that he’s feeling “very well. Energetic and full of unusual vigour.”

Well, that is a pleasant surprise, I’d say! He reasons that he doesn’t need to touch the Key all the time, so he picks it up and, “after a moment’s thought”, pushes it through his belt. As the Keeper’s shirt comes down “almost to his knees”, the Key is completely hidden.

And there I would like to stop for this time, as this is the longest chapter of the entire series. See you next time!