Free Grim Tuesday by Garth Nix Page A

give him the First Key and the Lower House…
    “Excuse me! I think you’re meant to go ahead of me,” said a polite voice out of the smog. Arthur looked around and saw the Denizen who’d been behind him in the line.
    “They seem quite keen on staying in line here. Name’s Japeth, by the way. Former name, I suppose.”
    “I’m Arthur,” said Arthur. He extended his hand. Japeth took it, but before he could close his hand, blue sparks erupted from Arthur’s palm and lashed around Japeth’s wrist. The Denizen let go with a yelp and withdrew, sucking his fingers.
    “You’re not an indentured worker!” he exclaimed.
    Arthur tensed for the Denizen to call out to the Overseers, who would surely be somewhere near in the smog. Japeth might get a reward, or early release, or something. So he mustn’t be allowed the opportunity…
    “Don’t worry!” Japeth added quickly as Arthur bent down and picked up a piece of the weird stone ballast from the train track. “I’m not a snitch, tattletale, dobber, blabberer, squealer, fink, or indeed, easy-mouth. Whoever you are, I shan’t say a word, phrase, utterance, syntag—”
    “You’d better not,” warned Arthur. He tried to sound severe but was very relieved as he dropped the stone. “I’m here…on a mission to help all the indentured workers.”
    Japeth also seemed relieved. He bowed and doffed an imaginary hat. His courtly manners were rather at odds with the extremely ragged velvet pants he wore under his leather apron. His shirt was no longer white, but yellow, and the cuffs were done up with string rather than buttons. Like most Denizens, he was handsome, but his face looked a little squashed, as did his body. As if he’d been pushed down and broadened, an imperfect clay model that had once come from a handsome mold.
    “I would be honored to assist,” he said. “That is to say, aid, support, succor, abet, reinforce, or give a leg up.”
    “Thank you,” said Arthur. “Um, do you always talk like that?”
    “You refer to my constant, even habitual use of a multiplicity of words and terms?”
    “Yes.”
    “Only when I’m nervous,” replied Japeth. “I am…I used to be a Thesaurus Minimus Grade Two. It is an occupational hazard, danger, or threat that we sometimes become prolix, verbose, long-winded, longiloquent…I fight against it, I assure you. Shall we move on before someone comes looking for us?”
    “I suppose we should,” agreed Arthur, after a moment’s hesitation. He needed more time to think, and they couldn’t stay where they were.
    “After you,” said Japeth, bowing and once again waving his imaginary hat.
    “No, after you,” replied Arthur, bowing a little himself. He didn’t want the Denizen walking close behind him, not with all the ballast stone about. He sounded sincere, but Arthur didn’t want to risk being hit on the head and handed over unconscious to the Overseers.
    Japeth inclined his head and strode off down thetracks, his clogs echoing hollowly on the stone sleepers. Arthur followed, still thinking furiously and occasionally tripping over his own clogs. If only he could get a message out to the Lower House. Every idea he came up with had a flaw. He got all excited for a second when he remembered that Monday’s Noon had been able to summon a telephone apparently out of nowhere in the House and the Secondary Realms. But even if Arthur could do that, the Lower House’s telephone service had either been cut off or required cash payment up front, and he had no money.
    But perhaps I could get some, he thought. Then I could call the Will, or Suzy, or Monday’s Noon…
    “What currency do they use in the Pit?” asked Arthur as they continued down the tracks without running into anyone or anything.
    “I believe the Far Reaches used to have a very nicely minted gold noble, silver real, and copper bice,” replied Japeth. “However, Grim Tuesday has gathered all actual coinage to himself, and everyone else must make do