by Amy Sparkes
Focus. Escape.
What about windows? No … there were no windows. Which was odd, because there were definitely windows on the outside. Instead the walls were lined with heavy-framed portraits of important-looking people, hung crookedly around the hallway and up the stairs. They all seemed to share the same slightly flared nostrils. A wooden cabinet with glass doors and many trophies stood between two doorways.
A blue and white coat of arms was mounted on one side of the front door, showing something like two sticks crossed above a large toad. On the other side was a hexagonal clock with fifteen numbers instead of twelve. It had four sword-shaped hands all pointing to ‘15’ at the top.
Wait. 15? Why would it—?
The creature took a step towards Nine, bringing her focus back.
“Don’t you reckon on eating me,” she said, raising her fists again. “I tell you now, I’m all bone.”
“Eat lady? Eat lady?” boomed the thing. It clutched its large, apron-covered belly and began to laugh a terrible laugh – a sound like two boulders being rubbed together the wrong way. Nine stared defiantly at the creature, feeling glad it couldn’t hear how fast her heart was beating. She glanced sideways and saw a brass candlestick sitting on a tall, spindly legged table.
“Stay back!” she warned in a shaky voice. She grabbed the candlestick and raised her arm, ready to hurl it at the creature. “Not that you can eat me anyway, since you’re not real!”
“EAT LADY!” guffawed the creature again.
“Naturally, Eric would do no such thing,” said a calm, well-spoken voice from the staircase. “He’s a vegetarian, as the fragrance of the air so thoughtfully reminds us every day. I assure you, Madam, the smell is very, very real.”
Nine looked round to see a tall boy coming down the plum-carpeted stairs. He had auburn curly hair, which puffed out from underneath his pointed indigo hat, and the same flared-nostril nose as the portraits. He wore a long, star-speckled, indigo gown, which flowed around him as he moved. Although the boy looked only a few years older than herself, there was something rather … ancient about him.
“But, what…?” began Nine, then watched as the boy made his way down the dark staircase. “Who…?” She looked at the apparently very real thing called Eric. “Why…?”
“I am Flabberghast. High Wizard, Chair of the Tea Tasters Committee, World Hopscotch Champion 1835,” he said, holding his head high. Then he stumbled down the last couple of steps. “Blasted gown,” he muttered, staggering next to the tusky beast. “Eric, would you be so kind?”
The creature called Eric grinned and reached out a thick arm towards the wizard. With a quick movement he tore the gown away, revealing what looked like indigo pyjamas and purple, fluffy slippers underneath. Eric threw the gown towards an empty umbrella stand in the corner of the hall. Nine gasped as a blue arm zoomed up from inside it, caught the cloak, then disappeared back into the stand taking the cloak with it.
“Wretched gown. Only wear it for visitors, really. Plays havoc with one’s hopscotch practice.”
“Hopscotch?” Nine said incredulously.
Something fast-moving on the staircase caught Nine’s eye. What appeared to be a wooden spoon with a face – and spindly arms and legs – slid down the bannister. It was wearing a kilt and brandishing a sword. The spoon whooshed off the end of the bannister and landed by Nine’s feet.
“About time, lassie!” it declared. “What took you so long?”
“You talk,” was all Nine managed. “That’s … incredible.”
“Trust me,” said Flabberghast, “the novelty does wear off.” He cleared his throat. “This is Dr Spoon, and—”
“Dr Spoon? That’s an odd name,” said Nine.
“Oh, aye?” said the spoon, pointing the sword at her. “And yours?”
“Nine.”
The spoon raised an eyebrow. “We’ll call it a draw.”
Flabberghast cleared his throat irritably. “And Eric, our troll housekeeper.”
“Hello, lady,” said Eric, waving at her.
“Troll,” Nine said weakly, “housekeeper.” Surely those words didn’t belong next to each other?
“Yes, yes, troll housekeeper,” said Flabberghast impatiently. He put a hand up to his mouth and whispered to Nine, “Not a very good one. Never eat the pancakes.”
“Pancakes?” Nine stared at them all and blinked. They couldn’t be here, talking to her about pancakes. None of this was real. Was it?
Nine swallowed hard and faced the truth: even with all the books she read, she could not have made this up. So if this was real, and there truly was a housekeeping troll, a sword-waving spoon and a hopscotching wizard, then it almost certainly wasn’t wise to hang around.
“Well… This has been nice,” she said, trying to sound like this sort of thing happened every day, “but I really can’t stay.” She patted her satchel loudly to drown out the heartbeat thumping in her ears. “You know, places to go, people to rob… And, thanks to you, I need to find someone a new present because you seem to be living in the old one.” She strutted towards the front door trying not to show the wobble in her legs.
Before she’d made it even a few steps the wizard dashed in front of the door, blocking her way. The spoon leapt up onto Nine’s shoulder and held the blade of his little sword against her throat. She gasped.
“So,” said Flabberghast fixing his eyes on Nine, “there’s good news and there’s bad news.” He steepled his fingers together. “Which do you want first?”
Nine felt a rising sense of panic in her chest. She grabbed a quick, shallow breath. As strange – as terrible – as this all was, she had to stay calm.
“Fine. The bad news?” she said. “Apart from the fact there’s a wooden spoon about to kill me.”
“Oh, that’s not news. That’s entirely to be expected, Madam,” said the wizard, as Nine raised an eyebrow. “No, the bad news is that this house is under a curse. We cannot even step outside.”
Nine gave a puzzled frown, but only for a moment. After all, considering everything that had happened in the last ten minutes, was a cursed house so unbelievable? “And the good news?”
Flabberghast clapped his hands together childishly. “You are the one to break it. Oh, we have been waiting for you for a very long time. The one who knocks on the door!”
The wizard and the troll grinned at her. Big, wide, fixed grins…
Nine thought quickly. They needed her. So … surely, they wouldn’t hurt her. She only hoped they’d remembered to tell the spoon that bit of information. Remembered to tell the spoon? Why was she even thinking this? No. This was ridiculous. She threw her hands up in the air.
“Everything about this is madness! Everything about you is madness!” She waved her hand at the spoon. “And is this really how you treat your guests?”
Flabberghast gave a little, nervous laugh then glared at the spoon and gestured at him to lower his sword. The spoon huffed loudly, muttered something about incompetent wizards and jumped down from Nine’s shoulder.
“That’s better,” Nine said, hoping she sounded calm and in control, because she really wasn’t – not any more. “Yes, I can fix your curse. Watch this.”
She walked towards the wizard and troll, who exchanged nervous glances before stepping aside. Heart thumping, Nine grabbed the door handle, yanked open the door and stepped outside onto the uneven cobbles.
“Outside. See? Not difficult. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be off.” She took a step away from the house—
“NO!” The utter desperation in their voices stopped Nine in her tracks. She turned around slowly to look at them. The troll was wringing his tufty-ended tail, the wizard was wringing his hands, and the spoon looked like he wanted to wring her neck.
The wizard held up his hands in surrender. “Just … step back inside, Madam,” he said carefully. “You can leave the door open and I will demonstrate exactly what the matter is.”
Slowly, Nine stepped back inside the h
ouse, eyeing the wizard warily as she did so. She could always run for it if she needed to.
The spoon hastily hopped halfway up the staircase before turning around to watch. He clung to his kilt and looked nervous. Nine moved next to Eric, who shook his head sadly and slowly. He leaned forwards and stretched out his arms.
“Wh-what are you doing?” hissed Nine.
“Eric catch,” said Eric.
“Catch?” said Nine. “Catch what?”
“Madam,” said the boy sharply, “observe.” He rolled up his indigo sleeves, took a deep breath and went to take a step outside.
There was a BOOM – a soundless BOOM. More a feeling of having been BOOMed. A ripple of energy washed over Nine and her satchel flapped up and hit her on the nose. The candelabra flickered and went out, and the wizard was thrown backwards, landing in the arms of the troll. He scrambled back down to the floor and smoothed his pyjamas indignantly. The candelabra relit itself with a gentle whoosh.
Nine opened her mouth to speak but had no words.
“You see, Madam,” Flabberghast snapped. “The indignity of it! The sheer spite! I thoroughly dislike flying in all its forms.”
“Lady help?” said Eric, with a pleading look in his eyes.
“Aye,” said the spoon, looking Nine up and down. “Desperate times call for desperate measures.”
Nine shuffled uncomfortably. “Help? Well … don’t you have a back door?”
“Oh, if only we’d thought of that!” hissed the wizard through clenched teeth. “Of course we have a back door. The problem is the cursemaker thought of that, too…”
Flabberghast shepherded Nine down the hallway and the spoon jumped from the bannister onto Eric’s shoulder as the troll followed. As Nine passed the staircase on the left, she noticed the cupboard under the stairs had a sign pinned on it: NEVER OPEN THIS DOOR. There were several rooms on the right-hand side, which was odd. Nine was sure the layout of the house on the inside didn’t match the squashed-up, eleven-storeyed house on the outside.
Nine tried to peer inside the dark rooms as she passed – she could have sworn one of them was whispering and had purple sparks flying around inside – but Flabberghast quickly moved her along and into the kitchen at the hallway’s end.
Nine glanced around, keen to be aware of her surroundings in case things turned bad, which she assumed was quite possible in the company of a long-tusked troll and a clearly agitated – if not entirely unbalanced – wizard.
The kitchen was filled with random cupboards of all sizes, with a back door on the far wall. A tall hat stand was next to an arched, wooden door on the right-hand wall. On the left was a crockery-filled dresser and a large bricked fireplace with a black cauldron suspended above it. In the middle sat a wooden table and three elaborately carved wooden chairs, with which Nine could probably do a fair amount of damage, if she needed to. She should surely, at least, be a match for a wooden spoon.
Near the arched door, a slimy orange drip plopped noisily into a bucket. Nine looked up to see a damp patch on the ceiling. She opened her mouth, then decided that some questions were best left unasked.
Apart from that the kitchen looked normal enough. But then, the umbrella stand at the front door had looked normal enough before a blue arm had zoomed out of it…
“Eric,” The wizard stood by the table. “If you would be so kind.”
The troll’s long toenails scratched along the brick-paved floor as he lolloped towards the back door. He turned and beckoned her. Slowly, Nine followed him.
“Lady open,” Eric said as the spoon pointed his sword at her, then at the door.
Nine put her hand on the handle, wondering when the chair-bashing should begin. But Nine had never been able to help her curiosity, which was why she found herself pulling the handle down and quickly opening the door…
Six heavily armoured, ferocious-looking, human-ish creatures stood there, brandishing spears and jagged, black swords. They towered over Nine, were grey as slate, bug-eyed and had saliva dripping from their fangs. They roared and waved their weapons. Nine stared at them blankly for a moment, trying to make sense of anything.
Swiftly deciding this was a waste of her time, she shut the door in their faces.
Nine pressed her lips tightly together, then whirled around to face the others. “And I suppose those creatures live in your garden, day and night!” she said.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Madam,” scoffed Flabberghast. “Only on Tuesdays.”
“Is Monday dragon, Tuesday goblin, Wednesday…” Eric said, counting on his fingers. He kept mumbling away but Nine marched back to Flabberghast.
“Well, I can get out of this house and that is exactly what I’m going to do.” She headed for the hallway but the wizard caught her arm and spun her around to face him. He looked her up and down.
“Madam, I presume since you dress in this odd, bedraggled attire, you have very little in the way of wealth—”
“Odd, bedraggled attire?” protested Nine.
“—and I can offer you riches, Madam, riches beyond your imagination.”
Oh. Wait. Riches? Nine narrowed her eyes, thoughtfully.
“Just so you know,” she said, softening her voice a little, “my imagination is very good.”
The wizard smiled and released her arm. “Come with me.”
He wandered back down the hallway, stopping at a silver-painted wooden door on the left. Nine looked at Eric, who nodded enthusiastically. She walked over to Flabberghast.
“Madam,” he said as he opened the door, “behold.” A strange red glow from the room lit up his face.
Nine gave him a suspicious look. What was he playing at? But curiosity once more got the better of her and she peered inside. The room was no bigger than a large cupboard and suspended in the air was a red glowing ball.
“What is it?” murmured Nine.
“A jewel of immense monetary value is encased within this orb,” said Flabberghast. “My inheritance from a relative I held in great esteem. People would pay a vast amount to possess it. It holds great personal value but the curse has encased it in this orb, beyond anybody’s reach. See for yourself.”
Nine looked at Flabberghast doubtfully, but he nodded. She edged towards the floating red ball, slowly stretching out her hand and, with the very tip of her finger, she went to touch it. A fizzing spark of red shot out with a loud hiss. Instantly Nine pulled her hand away.
“Once the curse is lifted, the imprisoned jewel will be accessible once again. Madam, it can be yours if you will break the curse which binds us.”
A jewel of immense value. She could fly the Nest. Never have Pockets sneering and shoving her again. Unable to resist, Nine stared at the beautiful red ball – a thing that could transform her whole life. Then she looked at the front door, trying to decide which truly held the most appeal.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw the wizard and the troll. She turned to look at them standing side by side with wide, frozen, desperate grins on their faces, and the spoon between their legs scowling and pointing his sword towards her.
“No,” she said decisively, “this is still madness. I’m leaving.” She marched towards the front door.
“Nononononono!”
Flabberghast dashed ahead of her and blocked her way. Nine folded her arms. “Say you’ll think about it, Madam? Come back tomorrow.”
She drummed her fingers on her folded arm.
“The immeasurable wealth could transform your life! Lift you from the depths of wretched peasantry—”
“Peasantry?!” Nine narrowed her eyes and flung her arms by her side. “My life is perfectly fine, thank you very much. I don’t need you – or anyone – to fix it. Move.”
Flabberghast groaned, slumped his shoulders and moved away from the door. He stood next to the troll who patted the top of the wizard’s pointy hat too hard, crumpling the point and shoving the rim down over his eyes.
Nine yanked open the door.
“Immeasurable we
eeeeealth!” a voice pleaded behind her.
But Nine stepped outside onto the cobbles without so much as a BOOM, and slammed the door behind her. She took a deep breath and looked up at the wonky too-many-storeyed House towering behind her. It was, without question, the most ridiculous, most unbelievable, most definitely-not-real place she had ever been in her life, filled with the most ridiculous, most unbelievable and most definitely-not-real beings she had ever known in her life. And there was nothing that would ever make her step foot inside it again.
“PERFECTLY FINE,” she called pointedly to the House, then stormed off into the dusk to the place she hated to call home.
Nine headed through the winding streets towards a row of tumbledown terraced houses with boarded-up windows. She reached the third door and her shoulders tensed.
“Wretched peasantry,” she muttered to herself, then pounded on the old wooden panels and said “No strawberries today!”
The door creaked open and an arm appeared in the gap and yanked Nine inside, pulling her roughly off her feet. The door slammed behind her as she regained her balance inside the dark hallway, lit only by a flickering candle. A short, grubby piece of rope dangled from the ceiling.
“Jim, I told you a million times!” she ranted at the shadows. “DON’T TOUCH ME! Just open the blimin’—”
A hand shot out of the shadows and pulled the rope.
“—doooooooor!” The ground beneath Nine disappeared as a trapdoor swung open.
There was a smarting thump as Nine’s bottom hit the metal of an old coal chute. The trapdoor slammed shut as she hurtled down in the blackness until, with a thud, she tumbled into the candle-lit Nest of a Thousand Treasures.
Heart still racing, Nine stood up on the damp cellar floor. Mary, Annie and Tom, the other thieflings, glared at her from their sackcloth beds. Nine glared back. Worn boots came softly behind her.
“You’s late,” grizzled Pockets’ voice in her ear. His breath stank like rotten onions and month-old dead rat, which was quite possibly his last meal.
“You’re revolting. Clean your teeth,” said Nine as Pockets moved in front of her.