Finally she stood again and put up her arms again. “I need a small wind,” she said. And was thrilled when almost at once a light breeze began to flutter through the chamber. “Now,” she continued, “please wind, rock the bell backwards and forwards.”
Even though this was successful, which amazed both Poppy and Nathan, and Poppy gave a squeak of pleasure, the bell fell back in the breeze, then returned, moved back again, and once again returned. But that was all. The key did not show itself, and the bell gave no sound.
“Please help,” Nathan begged the knife.
But nothing changed, the breeze blew out, the bell no longer moved, and the key remained unseen.
“Oh botheration,” sighed Poppy.
“You must have confidence,” called Brewster. “The warden must be strong, reliable and strong.”
“But that’s not me at all,” said Poppy. “I’m not any of those things.”
“Nonsense,” said Brewster. “Start again.”
Endlessly hopeful, Poppy jumped up again and addressed the bell. “I think you’re beautiful,” she said. “And the key is just gorgeous. I’m not either of those things, but if you want me as your warden, please let me know what to do.”
Silence.
“Well,” continued Poppy, “I’d be better than Yaark. Honestly, I would.”
The silence continued.
“Just ring for me, and I’ll wash and polish you and the key over and over every day,” Poppy said.
No reply.
So Poppy again lifted her arms, pointed at the bell, and said in a very determined voice, “The bell must ring once. The key must descend. I order this.” But the bell did not ring, and key did not appear, and Poppy suddenly felt like crying.
Hermes strutted forwards, saying softly, “My illustrious lady empola, there is much time for this. Perhaps Yaark must be destroyed first. Once his power is destroyed, yours can take its place.”
“But the Bell of Clarr has acknowledged you,” interrupted Brewster. “Haven’t you noticed?”
“Not a thing. What?” Poppy stared, twisting around and peering up.
Pointing high, Brewster said, “There.”
The bell hung from a dark chain which descended from the ceiling. But now the chain had turned golden, highly polished and glittering, and as the gold touched the top of the bell, it also blazed. Nothing else happened, but the bell had heard, and now, in its own haze of brilliance, it seemed to be waiting for the final magical word.
Chapter Twenty-Four
There was a roar of fury from the doorway, and everybody who had been concentrating on the brilliance of the bell, whirled around.
Clebbster stood, bent and leaning on his cane, his face distorted in fury. One hand was clenched over the handle of the cane, the other, with the long index finger, pointed at Brewster. “Vile traitor,” he croaked. “I send you disease. I send you pain, suffering and death. I send you misery.”
“You have already given me most of those things,” Brewster said, although he had clearly been shaken at his father’s sudden appearance. “My brother died on your behalf. That is the misery, the pain, the suffering and the death, although the death is not my own, it is almost identical. We were almost the same person.”
Clebbster’s finger stretched out, and the curved black nail stretched so far, it almost touched him. “I send you a gift of plague and pestilence. I will never again acknowledge you as my son.”
He turned, bent his head, and shuffled from the room. The door swung shut behind him, although he had not touched it. Everybody stood a moment in utter silence, watching the empty space where the wizard had been.
Finally Brewster said, “My father never sends a curse without the power to make it work. I may die. Even if I live, I will first be threatened by terrible sickness. You have no need to stay with me. Keep working on the bell and the key. Leave me. Hermes will take you both home when you’re ready.”
He walked away. Poppy ran after him. “I’m not leaving you. Everyone can help. Well, not us, but Granny and my mother, and Zak and Sherdam. Even Tryppa.”
“My father knows their powers,” Brewster said softly. “He will have made sure the curse would beat them all.”
“In the trial Granny’s magic was stronger than his.”
“But,” said Brewster, and his voice was fading, “she is not here and I no longer have the strength to take us all to her. The illness is starting already. Leave me in peace, my friends. I expect nothing more from you.”
Nathan turned to Hermes. “Can you fly Brewster to the cottage? As quickly as possible, since I doubt he can do much for himself anymore. Then explain where we are and what has happened. Ask Granny or Zak or someone to magic us home too, while someone helps Brewster.”
Although Brewster began to say no one would want him at the cottage, and would not be able to counteract his father’s curse in any case, both Poppy and Nathan helped push him onto Hermes’ back, and with a slight frown of disapproval, Hermes took off, flew from the chamber, and disappeared into the outside passage.
Poppy and Nathan stood alone. “Go on,” Nathan said. “I know you’re upset and so am I, but Hermes won’t be back for ten minutes or more. Us just standing here crying for Brewster won’t help anyone. So quick, try again with the bell and the key.”
She nodded, wiped her eyes and began to pace around the shadow of the bell. At first she tried to kick at the side of the shadow as if trying to make that ring, but then she realised something. “Nat,” she said. “Get out the knife again.” He did at once, and she pointed up. “Can you tap the bell with the knife? Can you reach?”
At first he couldn’t reach, but then with a high jump, he managed to tip the edge. But although the knife gleamed with a flash of brilliance, there was no sound. But Poppy was grinning, looking thrilled as she ran out, following Hermes into the corridor outside. “Wait, what are you doing?” shouted Nathan.
“Come on, come on,” Poppy called back. “Now,” as he appeared, “use your lovely knife, Nat, and ask these painted monsters which one guards the key and can unlock it for me.”
Nathan liked the idea and held the knife up to the wall. Immediately many of the strange painted beings began to shift, looking down at their lord. Nathan said, “I am the Lord of Clarr. This is the Knife of Clarr. And here is my sister, the empola, who is the rightful Warden of the Key of Clarr. Which of you guards the key?”
The creature at the end of the wall where it turned immediately to the chamber door, swirled from paint to person, leapt from the wall and stood before them.
It was deep blue, a shadowed creature on two legs in a rich blue velvet cloak. Its blue nose twitched, its blue hands pushed the door wide, and it led Nathan and Poppy back into the room of the bell. There he stopped, turned and bowed. His blue eyes swirled like kaleidoscopes.
“Illustrious lord and illustrious lady,” he said in a clanking robotic voice, “welcome to your domain. We have waited long for the great family of Octobr to return to us. We are honoured to bow to our royal lords.”
“Gosh,” said Poppy breathlessly, “is that what I am?”
The creature pointed down at the floor. “These are your steps, my lady. “Climb to the bell and take the key which is yours.”
It was a huge disappointment for the tiled floor was entirely flat, but in the hope that something might happen, Poppy began to walk step by step from the door to the shadow of the bell. Then, as she walked she realised that she was following a mosaic pattern. Where the picture of the bell lay massive at her feet, she had a strange feeling, and pointed down, summoning whatever magic she had now tucked within.
“You are my key,” she murmured. “And I am your warden. Ring the bell for me.” When nothing happened she was even more disappointed, but then she remembered she had not raised her arms. Now she stood on the key’s blue tiled picture, and the strange blue guard stood at one side. She raised her arms, then pointed down at the tiled floor. “You are my key and I am your warden
. Ring the bell for me.”
This time both the key on the ground and the great golden bell hanging from the roof answered with shimmering light. The bell gleamed with a flash of gold, while the tiled key was spangled with flashes of blue.
“And the third time, my lady,” called the creature in its strange cracked voice.
“Third time lucky,” called Nathan.
And Poppy took one more step. “You are my key,” she repeated. “And I am your warden. Ring the bell for me.”
It all happened at once. The tiled key of blue mosaic on the floor grew so brilliant, it was hard to see and Poppy squinted, staring down. The blue light began to sing. The notes were soft and melodic, but the light was bright. Then the growing radiance crept over to the shadow of the bell. The shadow shone golden and the bell above began to ring.
Boom – boom – boom – the sound echoed through and around the room until it sounded as though a thousand huge bells were ringing. The notes were glorious, the massive bell began to swing backwards and forwards, the mosaic key continued to sing and the music of the bell and the key blended in the most beautiful melody like birds and angels singing together.
And then, as they watched in wonder, the real key came slowly down from inside the bell, and hung at Poppy’s reaching hand. She took it, the cord disappeared, and in the midst of the wonderful music, she stood holding the wondrous key tightly in her hand.
“My illustrious lady,” said the blue cloaked creature, “you are now the one and only Warden of the Key of Clarr.” And he bowed very low.
Clutching the key, Poppy thanked the creature which disappeared back into the shadows while the music swirled around her, louder and more exhilarating, throbbing and echoing and resounding until she started to dance with it, turning and twirling too, holding up the key, and loving the glow of the lights on her face.
Yet as she danced, the final echoes died away. Then the key remained in her clasp as she found herself floating up into the air, past the still ringing bell, and out into the clouds. Nathan was beside her, laughing and cheering. And then, within less than a minute, they found themselves standing in the middle of the living room back at the cottage.
Messina and Bayldon had been sitting on the big couch talking together. Now they looked up. “Hello, my dears,” said Bayldon. “You both look very happy.” But before they had a chance to explain their delight, Bayldon said, “But this is a most serious situation. Brewster Hazlett has been brought here by Hermes as you asked, although you really should have asked permission first, since he is still the son of our worst enemy.”
Both Nathan and Poppy opened their mouths to explain again, but they managed only, “You see – he’s –,”
When Bayldon continued, saying, “But it seems the poor man has been cursed by Clebbster and is now suffering from a severe case of the plague or something like it. Your Granny and Sherdam are in there with him, trying to help. Go on in and see if you can cheer her up. She says she’s never had to cure the plague before. It doesn’t look very nice.”
Somewhat dismal having quickly switched from extreme excitement to misery and worry, Nathan and Poppy hurried into the next door bedroom, keeping as quiet as possible, and crept over to the bed where Brewster lay. Granny bent over one side and Sherdam over the other. Poppy quietly slipped her brightly jewelled key into her inside pocket.
“Is he alright, Granny?” whispered Poppy.
She looked up. “No,” she said, “but he will be soon, even if it kills me. I am going to heal him if it takes a year. How dare that vile wizard do this to his own son?”
“His last remaining son.”
“Clebbster found out that Brewster wasn’t supporting him anymore,” said Nathan softly. “He saw him with us. Brewster was helping us.”
Granny didn’t ask how or why. She was using a special creamy medicine to wipe across Brewster’s face while Sherdam seemed to be mixing some other sort of hot and steaming drink. Brewster himself seemed unconscious. His eyes were tightly closed, and he did not move. Across his face and hands there were large green boils oozing green slime.
“Wow, is that what the plague was like?” asked Poppy.
“Of course not,” frowned Granny. “The real plague would be simple to deal with. Horrible and disgusting though it was to the poor people of the medieval times, who died in their millions across the world, we could now cure it easily with antibiotics. No – this is a special plague from that revolting wizard, and I have to not only cure the disease but stop the Clebbster magic that made it in the first place.”
“And we can’t all catch it?” asked Nathan, slightly glum.
“Of course not,” said Granny crossly. “Now, stand back,” and she raised both arms, pointed at Brewster, and shouted, “Clebbster be gone. Before your power wanes. Be gone from your son. I command this disease to fail and fade. Be gone from this house and be gone from this man.”
Quite suddenly three of the large green blisters burst, each with a pop louder than the last, and more green pus sprang out. Granny mopped it up and spread more cream ointment across Brewster’s face.
“We haven’t found the right spell yet,” muttered Sherdam. “But we will soon.”
“Isn’t Mum helping?”
“She is,” said Granny. “She’s looking up spells in an old book.”
“I’ve got a few little spells now,” said Poppy tentatively, but no one heard her, and Granny returned to Brewster.
Hands raised, she called, “Errampetuyllo bassimanklemada. Rortta. Dorta. Sporta.”
Sherdam abruptly looked up with such surprise that Poppy asked, “What on earth does that mean?”
Granny smiled. “It’s a new spell. A barrier against all sickness. It’s my own creation.”
“What a clever magician you are, my dear,” said Sherdam, impressed. “Say it again.”
And with a smile, Granny repeated the same words. Then she added, “Brewster Hazlett, return as before.”
He opened his eyes. He yawned. He smiled. And then he fell asleep. There were still large green stains on his face, mixed with Granny’s cream. “oh well, he seems a little better,” sighed Granny. “It’s a good start.” She turned to Poppy. “But no one has offered me a cup of tea for ages. I shall fall ill myself soon from lack of a hot drink.”
Poppy quickly raced to the kitchen, put the kettle on, and explained to her mother exactly what was happening.
It was later that day when finally Poppy was able to tell everyone about her wonderful gift, and how she had done it. Brewster was sleeping peacefully but a complete cure had not yet been achieved. However, Jellywop presented a pleasant hot dinner even though it was an odd mixture since Jelly-oxen ate anything and everything. As they all sat at the kitchen table, and Granny and Sherdam hurried out to take their places, the meal of chicken pie, custard and a side dish of hay was handed out.
“An interesting dinner, thank you Jellywop,” said Granny and cheerfully started on the custard.
“I just wanted to tell everyone,” said Poppy quickly, and she fumbled into her inside pocket and pulled out the brilliantly shining key, “that I’m now the Warden of the Key of Clarr. That’s me! Not Yaark.”
Everyone stared at her a moment and then they all clapped her, called congratulations and asked her how she managed it. “She was brilliant,” said Nathan. “And so was Brewster.”
Poppy swallowed a mouthful of pie crust, chicken and custard. “Brewster took us to the chamber. There was a huge bell. I couldn’t ring it. But Brewster had given me a present of level 1 magic. I was so thrilled. I got one of those painted guards of the wall and he helped. I rang the bell over and over and over. The shadow rang and the tiles rang and everything glittered like sunshine. It was gorgeous. I could have stood there listening all day but we were worried about Brewster. His disgusting father did it to him. But I have the key.”
Nobody really understood a word but they all cheered anyway, and Poppy held up the key to show them. It glittered in the
low kitchen lights.
The day slipped into dusk, and the dusk slipped into evening, and Nathan and Poppy sat by Brewster’s bed waiting for him to wake. At first he seemed to be dreaming, and was murmuring to himself. “Shsss, tis the sleep of the serpents. And now they awake. We take back our inheritance. We claim the water. And the trees”
Quite suddenly he opened his eyes, they were as green as ever, but they seemed blurred, and tear-filled. The stains on his face were still glossy and bright and his hands were covered in bleeding sores. “I’m so sorry,” whispered Poppy. “I think it was our fault. Your father saw you helping us. That’s why he did this horrible curse. But Granny’s been making you better. You’re not as sick as you were.”
“Not your fault,” mumbled Brewster. “Me better? Good. Thank you. But something much more important. Must get Lashtang back to health. Quosters. Forest. Hazletts not wizards. Not emperors. Not kings. Hazletts are Quosters. And that’s better than all the rest.”
“I think you’re lovely,” smiled Poppy, “whatever you are.”
But Brewster once again shut his eyes and once more fell asleep.
“I know what we have to do next,” said Nathan. “I’m going to Sharr. We start at Clarr. With the key and the knife, perhaps we can start putting things right.”
Granny, who wasn’t supposed to be listening but seemed to know everything anyway, walked into the room with a big grin. “Exactly,” she said. “You two are now masters of Clarr, and remember that Hermes is the Messenger of Clarr. Take him with you. And don’t worry about Brewster.”
“And what if I ask everyone to come with me? I mean – my friends.”
Granny shook her head. “Tryppa has taken Peter to Peganda to enrol him at the Academy of Music. He’s most excited. John is at Pickles with his father and the others, while Ferdinand starts building a ship to take them across the oceans with Christopher Columbus. Sam has gone with Zakmeister to Bymion town to help settle all those Tyrell children. I believe they’re having a wonderful time. Alice and Alfie have just come back from medieval London, and they’re worn out. I’m staying here with Sherdam to look after Brewster, and your mother and father are making plans to take over if they can work out how to get rid of Yaark and Clebbster.”
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