breath and slipped off his underwear. ‘Start painting, Scamandros.’
‘He’s painting me,’ said Suzy. ‘You’ll ’ave to wait. Youch, that’s cold paint!’
Arthur bit back an order to hurry up and focussed on the view out the window. He didn’t know what to do with his hands. Putting them on his hips seemed ridiculous when naked, but so did just letting them hang. Finally he folded them at the front, even though he thought that probably didn’t look too good either.
‘Right, Lord Arthur, here we go,’ said Scamandros. The next second Arthur felt a slap of cold fluid on his back, and flinched.
‘Steady!’ instructed Scamandros. ‘Haven’t any to waste.’
Arthur gritted his teeth and stood very still as Scamandros quickly brushed paint from his head to his heels.
‘Very good, Lord Arthur. Turn around, if you please.’
Arthur shut his eyes and slowly turned around. He heard a knock at the door at the same time, and a Raised Rat called out, ‘Got that cheese for you, sir. I’ll just put it here.’
‘Arms up, Lord Arthur,’ said Scamandros cheerily.
Arthur screwed his eyes shut even tighter and quickly raised his arms. He couldn’t help flinching as the paint went on some delicate areas.
‘You’re done!’ said Scamandros.
Arthur opened his eyes and looked down. He’d been expecting to see grey paint on himself, but instead he saw a fine coat of grey-black fur that covered him from ankle to wrist like a hairy wetsuit.
Though the fur went some way to preserving his modesty, Arthur quickly sat down, crossed his legs, and draped his coat across his lap.
‘You won’t have tails,’ said Scamandros sadly. ‘Couldn’t do it. But quite a few of the Rats go without, having lost them in sea fights and the like.’
He picked up the slab of cheese, broke it into two equal parts, and started writing with a peacock-feather pen he dipped in a tiny bottle of activated ink no larger than Arthur’s little fingernail.
‘I could get used to fur,’ said Suzy. ‘Saves washin’ and changin’ clothes.’
Arthur raised his eyebrows.
‘I do wash ’em,’ Suzy protested. ‘And change ’em. Lot of Denizen clothes clean themselves, you know. And change to fit. I wonder if this fur gets all manky in the rain ...’
‘The cheese is ready,’ said Dr Scamandros. He held up the two pieces, each roughly triangular and about ten inches long.
‘Do we have to eat it all?’ Arthur didn’t sound excited by the prospect.
‘Um, perhaps not.’ Scamandros hesitated. ‘About two-thirds should do the trick ... but it would be best to err on the side of completion.’
‘Right,’ said Arthur. ‘All we need now is Lieutenant Finewhisker to open the Nebuchadnezzar—oh, I almost forgot. You were going to give me something to hide the Key’s thingummies—’
Dr Scamandros nodded and fossicked about inside his coat for a few moments before bringing out a crumpled piece of glittering metallic cloth that looked rather like a crushed tinfoil hat. He smoothed it out and pushed the edges apart, revealing that it was a small rectangular bag.
‘Put the Key in there, and they won’t sniff it out,’ he said, handing it over. ‘At least not unless they’re very close and looking for it.’
Arthur took the mirror-shaped Fifth Key and put it in the bag. He pulled its drawstring tight, then opened it again, to put Elephant inside as well. Then after almost closing it, he added the Mariner’s medal that he’d been wearing on a makeshift dental-floss chain around his neck. With all three items safely in the bag, he finally drew the drawstring tight and tied the cord securely around his left wrist.
‘The cheese will complete your transformation,’ said Scamandros.
‘Except the Raised Rats usually wear clothes, so we’ll need some too,’ said Arthur. ‘We should get some of the sailor’s breeches or something . Is there anything in that chest over there?’
No one moved.
‘Have a look, please,
C. J. Cherryh
Learning to Kill: Stories
John O'Riley
Brenda Sinclair
Christopher George
Stephen Lloyd Jones
Karl Iagnemma
Celya Bowers
Jill Gregory
Aria Cunningham