Sir Thursday (Keys to the Kingdom, Book 4)
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On the fourth day there was war...
Following their adventures in the Border Sea, Arthur and Leaf head for home. But only Leaf gets through the Front Door. Arthur is blocked because someone . . . or something . . . has assumed his identity and is taking over his life.
Before Arthur can take action, he is drafted by Sir Thursday and forced to join the Glorious Army of the Architect. While Leaf tries to banish Arthur's doppleganger on earth, Arthur must survive his basic training, avoid getting posted to the Front and work out how he can free Part Four of the Will....
breeches forming under it. “For a broken leg.” “As prescribed by me,” said Dr. Scamandros. “Dr. Scamandros, at your service. Major Scamandros, Army Sorcerer, retired. I did my draft service about three thousand years ago, before going on to advanced study in the Upper House.” “Very good, sir,” said Crosshaw, with another snappy salute. “If it’s a prescribed medical necessity, it can remain.” “Lord Arthur is a mortal,” added Scamandros. He got out a small notepad and hastily scrawled something
writing. I really hope I don’t forget how to read this time. It’s going to set back our training too. I’ll never make general if I get washed between the ears too often. Come on.” He marched back to the beds, Arthur following more slowly and out of step. But no NCOs appeared to berate him. As far as he could tell, it was the middle of the night and their appointed wake-up time would be in only three or four hours. Despite his weariness, Arthur followed Fred’s lead and got out a service notebook
sergeants. They would not be happy to discover that he was really only a partially trained recruit with one battle under his belt and that after a mere six weeks of training. “My plan is straightforward,” said Sir Thursday. “We will emerge as close to the spike as is possible. I will need several minutes to destroy it and must not be interrupted in that time. You will hold off any enemy that may interfere. When the spike is destroyed, we will return via the Improbable Stair to the Citadel. Given
on the first of those glowing, insubstantial steps he’d just drawn. “You may find it helpful to shut your eyes—but you must hang on!” Though Arthur had used the Improbable Stair before, he’d never seen anyone else disappear into it. When he’d traveled on the Stair he had been totally focused on imagining a stair where there wasn’t one, a series of steps made of brilliantly white marble, stretching up forever. But that wasn’t what he saw now. Sir Thursday ascended the glowing steps he’d drawn
against the House? His older brother was Lord Sunday, wasn’t he? “Okay,” he said finally. He paused as everyone in the room looked at him respectfully, anticipation in their faces. “How big is Sir Thursday’s elevator? It’s not a stupid little one like at Fort Transformation, is it?” “It is of variable dimension, I believe,” said Dusk. “Perhaps the size of this room at its largest extent.” “How long would it take to get to and from the Lower House?” asked Arthur. “It depends upon the elevator