by Jenny Nimmo
"Come into my parlor," said Mrs. Kettle, leading the way through an arch into her private part of the shop. She stopped suddenly and, putting her hand to her chin, said, "I think I should warn you..."
But Tancred had already seen the boy carefully polishing a big copper kettle. It was Dagbert the drowner.
The two boys stared at each other in horror, and then Dagbert uttered a low wail and shook his head. "You're dead," he moaned, "dead, dead, dead!" And dashing past Tancred, he ran out of the shop.
16
A DISTANT VOICE
There's been a mishap," said Maisie as Charlie and Emma walked into the kitchen at number nine.
"Not another one." Charlie dropped into a chair and hungrily regarded the food on the table. "Good spread, Maisie. I'm starving."
Emma took a chair beside him, and Charlie handed her a plate of chicken sandwiches.
"Emma's come to see Alice," he told Maisie.
Before he could say any more, Alice came in and sat at the table. "Emma, how lovely to see you!" Alice beamed with pleasure, and so did Emma.
Charlie quickly explained his idea for releasing Olivia from her bewitching. Alice looked at him with great interest, her head on one side, before saying, "Charlie, that's an excellent idea." She turned to Emma. "So can you describe this vest for me, the little details, the placing of the sequins, the size of the armholes, the length, the buttonholes?"
"Every night, when Liv takes it off in the bathroom, I take a good look," said Emma. "She snatches it up very quickly, hardly looks at it, when she puts it back on. So I don't think she'll notice if it's not an exact match." She reached into her pocket and brought out a folded piece of paper, which she flattened out and laid in front of Alice.
"A sketch! Emma, this is wonderful!" Alice bent over Emma's drawing of the vest and studied it intently.
"So what's the mishap?" asked Charlie, not very enthusiastically.
"I thought you'd never ask." Maisie put a plate of scones on the table and sat down. "Your friend, Tancred, was here and --"
"Tancred?" said Charlie through a mouth full of chicken.
"Yes, in a mustache," said Maisie.
"A mustache," said Emma. "I hope no one saw him. I hope he's all right. I mean I hope he hasn't been caught."
"Well, THEY probably know he's alive by now."
When Maisie said this, Emma's hand flew to her heart, her eyes wide and glistening.
"Because," Maisie went on, "he went up Piminy Street and lost his hat and mustache. Probably due to the weather he'd brought about. So he's only got himself to blame. But, anyway, he went into the Kettle Shop and saw that drowning boy, Dagbert something-or-other. The boy rushed out, but luckily Miss Ingledew saw him hovering outside the bookstore in a bit of a state, so she coaxed him in."
"How do you know all this, Mrs. Jones?" asked Emma.
"Your aunt called me just before you got here. I asked her if she wanted to speak to Paton, but she gave me a definite no."
"She's given up on him," said Emma.
"Given up?" Charlie looked anxious. "She can't have. I think Uncle Paton wants to marry her."
"He should have thought of that before." Emma sounded very cold and practical. It was almost as if Uncle Paton had upset her personally.
To make matters worse, at that moment, Uncle Paton walked into the kitchen. He had obviously overheard Emma's remarks and no one could fail to notice that he appeared to be very upset. Without a word, he walked over to the counter, put on the kettle, and got a bottle of milk from the fridge.
Even Maisie was lost for words. Emma, however, was indifferent to Uncle Paton's feelings. "So is Tancred all right?" she asked. "Where is he now?"
"They're all at the bookstore." Maisie glanced uneasily at Paton. "Mrs. Kettle and Tancred are there, trying to put things right, Julia said" -- she gave Paton another quick glance -- "whatever that means. But she called because Dagbert will only speak to you, Charlie. He says he doesn't trust anyone else."
"Me?" Charlie swallowed a large piece of scone and washed it down with a mug of tea. "I'd better get over there, then." He jumped up and going to his uncle, tapped his arm, saying, "Hi, Uncle P., I'm glad you're here."
Uncle Paton gave Charlie a half smile and said, "We'll talk later, Charlie."
All this time Alice had been quietly contemplating Emma's drawing. Although she hadn't spoken, she had been listening intently to the conversation and now, all at once, she looked keenly at Charlie and said, "Go with the dog, Charlie. Things are not right out there." She nodded at the window.
Charlie was about to ask her what she meant by the dog when the doorbell rang, and running to open the front door, Charlie found Benjamin and Runner Bean on the doorstep.
"That's odd," said Charlie. "Someone else was thinking about you before I was."
"Eh?" Benjamin wrinkled his nose. "You all right, Charlie?"
"Mmmm." Charlie managed to swallow the last piece of scone that had lodged in his throat. "I was just going to the bookstore. Want to come?"
"That's why I'm here," said Benjamin. "I think."
Emma appeared in the hall behind Charlie, and when they had both flung on jackets and scarves, they joined Benjamin on the sidewalk and all three began to walk up Filbert Street, preceded by a very energetic dog.
"Have you noticed?" said Benjamin. "Lots of cars have gone from the road."
"People, too," Charlie observed. On his way down from the school bus, he hadn't noticed how empty the street had become because he was thinking of tea, but now he saw the big gaps between cars that were normally parked bumper to bumper, all along the road. "Where's everyone gone?"
"It's the fog," said Benjamin. "Our neighbors on both sides have left the city. They said on the radio that it's going to be so thick, it won't be safe to travel in or out. But we're not going. Dad says if everyone leaves, the villains will have a free hand."
"A free hand for what?" asked Emma.
Benjamin shrugged. "Looting and pillaging I expect."
This sounded rather too medieval. Charlie had never heard of a fog so thick it couldn't be penetrated. Surely there would always be at least one way in or out of a city. He was relieved to see a police car cruising down the deserted High Street.
As they approached Cathedral Close, they could hear snatches of music drifting toward them. The music grew louder and when they passed the end of Piminy Street, they saw that a party seemed to be in full swing. People were dancing in the middle of the road while a group of musicians in velvet coats and tall stovepipe hats played wild jigs and polkas. Some sawed at the strings of small violins, while one beat a drum and others played pipes adorned with colored ribbons that fluttered in the air as the players swayed to the rhythm and tapped the ground with their pointed boots.
Charlie and Benjamin watched openmouthed as the dancing grew faster and wilder. And then Runner Bean barked, and heads were turned in their direction. The dancers' faces were distorted with malice, and Emma plucked Charlie's sleeve, saying, "Come on, quick!" They ran for the bookstore.
Tancred, looking quite himself again, was restacking some of the books Miss Ingledew's customers had taken out during the day but not replaced. It was the end of the week and Miss Ingledew was doing her accounts beside the register.
Emma ran down the steps, crying, "Tancred, you're safe. I heard about your mustache and everything."
"Well, they all know I'm alive, so there's no point in hiding any longer." He gave Emma an especially welcoming smile.
"Where's... ?" Charlie looked around the store.
"Dagbert?" said Miss Ingledew. "He was exhausted, so I put him in Emma's room for a little nap."
"Oh!" Emma wasn't quite sure how to take this news.
The curtain behind the counter billowed alarmingly and Runner Bean gave a howl of anxiety as Mrs. Kettle pushed her way into the store. "Ah, Charlie, there you are," she said. "You'd better go and have a word with that poor boy upstairs. He's in quite a state."
"Po
or?" said Emma indignantly. "He's not poor. He tried to drown Tancred."
"He seems pretty harmless now," said Tancred, fitting the last book into place. He turned to the others. "I think he's changed. There's nothing weird about him now. He doesn't even smell fishy."
"Have a word with him, Charlie," said Mrs. Kettle. "Just calm him down. There's enough trouble in this city already. We need all hands on deck."
A funny way of putting things, thought Charlie as he walked around the counter and into Miss Lngledew's living room. He was surprised to see Dagbert standing on the other side of the room. He was clutching the glass sea storm, and Tancred was right, he looked quite ordinary, just a boy who was scared and worn out. He gave Charlie a weak smile and said, "I heard a dog. What are they going to do to me, Charlie? I know Tancred's alive. I thought I was seeing a ghost."
Charlie took a few steps toward Dagbert and said quietly, "They're not going to do anything, Dagbert. You're safe here. Tancred didn't drown, as you've seen. And he's forgiven what you did. There's no point in being angry with someone who doesn't exist."
Panic showed in Dagbert's blue-green eyes. "But I do exist. Don't I?"
"Of course," said Charlie emphatically. "But that other boy, the mean, drowning, selfish boy that was you, is gone. Isn't he?"
Dagbert turned the sea storm over and over in his hands. "Seems to be gone," he murmured. "I'm not frightened that my life is going to end anymore." He held up the sea storm and watched the silvery shower of foam fall from top to bottom. And then he gave Charlie a very ordinary, happy grin.
"You're one of us now, Dag," Charlie said. "And you'll be needed. Things are happening in this city."
Charlie was aware that a small tide of people had begun to fill the room. First came Mrs. Kettle, then Emma and Miss Ingledew, Benjamin and Runner Bean, and last, Tancred. They eased themselves into seats around the room and, trying not to be too obvious, watched Dagbert to see if Charlie was having an effect. Runner Bean, sensing the gravity of the situation, did not bark once.
"Charlie's right," said Miss Ingledew. "Something is happening. I think we shall all be tested in the next few hours. You must have noticed that half the inhabitants of this city have left. I predict that, over the next few days, even more will go, until only a few remain. It will be tempting to leave before the fog finally encloses us."
Mrs. Kettle stood up and began to pace about the room, her copper hair looking more like a helmet than ever. Even her shiny bomber jacket gave the appearance of armor. "But we must stay and fight," she said. "Or the shadow will drag this city into the past, and the Red King and all he stood for will not even be a memory."
"Fight?" said Emma in a small voice. "What with?"
"With whatever comes to hand, my dear." Mrs. Kettle gave her an encouraging smile. "Unfortunately we have no way of knowing when or how Count Harken will make his move. But it will be soon. The swelling ranks of the residents of Piminy Street, the increase in stone creatures, the fog, all these things suggest that he will arrive very soon. His conduit, the Mirror of Amoret, is cracked, that is true, but he will find a way. We maybe sure of that. He is an enchanter after all."
Miss Ingledew got up and patted her cushions. "Mrs. Kettle and I have made some arrangements. She will stay here with me and Emma. Dagbert, you, too. We'll make up some beds down here. Piminy Street is too dangerous now."
"There's something I have to do," Charlie said suddenly, "before it's too late."
They all looked at him. Mrs. Kettle wore a forbidding frown. "I hope it's not a dangerous task," she said.
Charlie shrugged. "Not really. I have to get Billy out of Badlock. I promised Cook."
Frowns turned to disconcerting stares.
"It's not a very good time, Charlie," Miss Ingledew remarked.
"I think it's kind of now or never," he replied. "But I've got to find that painting of Badlock or I'll never get in. Mrs. Tilpin has moved it from the old chapel, but I don't know where she has put it."
"It'll be in the academy," said Mss Ingledew.
Charlie shook his head. "Nope. I've looked everywhere. Everywhere I can, that is. The Bloors don't like it, so it won't be in the west wing."
"It could be in Darkly Wynd," Tancred suggested. "In fact, I'll bet that's where it is. In one of your great-aunts' dingy basements."
Charlie figured that Tancred could be right. But which great-aunt had the painting, and how was he to get into any of those awful houses without being seen? "I'll sleep on it," he said.
Night was falling. It was time for Charlie and Benjamin to go home. They didn't want to be on Piminy Street in the dark, even with Runner Bean.
Tancred volunteered to walk with them as far as High Street. Emma stood outside the store and watched the three boys make their way down Cathedral Close. "Take care," she called. Tancred turned and waved. He almost blew her a kiss, at least that's what it looked like to her, but he obviously thought better of it.
When they parted on High Street, Charlie anxiously watched Tancred stride alone toward the Heights. He had a long way to go. And then he took something from his pocket, and a flash of silver told Charlie that the storm boy was phoning his father. In a few minutes, Mr. Torsson's roaring whirlwind of a car would be swooping down from the Heights. But before that happened, three bright forms leaped out from a dark alleyway and encircled
Tancred's legs so closely that he almost tripped over them.
"The Flames," said Benjamin. "He'll be OK now."
"And so will we." Charlie grinned at Runner Bean, who gave an appreciative bark.
Although the boys felt safe, they were both aware of the curious whispers that seemed to float through the air above them. And they could feel sounds through the soles of their shoes, as though underground creatures were moving beneath the sidewalk. The fog seemed to have crept closer, and the houses on the other side of the road looked blurred and distant.
It was almost dark when Charlie got home. Maisie was watching the road from the kitchen window. Benjamin and Runner Bean ran across to number twelve and Benjamin shouted, "See you tomorrow."
Filbert Street seemed to be completely deserted. Number twelve and number nine were the only houses where lights showed.
"I'm glad you're back, Charlie." Maisie shut the front door behind him and leaned against it. "It's bad out there."
Charlie knew what she meant. There was no other way to put it. "Bad," he agreed.
"Alice wants to see you," Maisie told him. "She's up in the spare room."
Charlie took off his jacket and hurried up to the top of the house. A row of candles stood on the spare room's windowsill, and Alice explained that Uncle Paton had been helping her to tidy up. Charlie noticed a small black vest lying on the sewing machine.
"It'll be finished by Sunday," Alice told Charlie when she saw him looking at the vest. "First I had to find enough silver sequins. This room is a real treasure trove."
Charlie guessed that the vest wasn't the real reason for Alice wanting to see him. He was right.
"Something rather" -- she paused -- "strange would be a way to describe it, but it was more than strange. Wonderful would be better. Yes, something wonderful happened up here just before you came back from school, Charlie. There wasn't time to talk about it then, but I think you should know someone has been... calling you."
"Calling?" Charlie sat down rather quickly on the edge of the rocker, and a thread of cane snapped beneath him.
"I touched the window, just here" -- Alice laid her hand on a pane a few inches from her shoulder -- "and I felt another."
Charlie waited for her to continue, but she merely gave him an enigmatic smile.
"Another what?" he asked.
"Another person, Charlie. And then I heard her voice. She asked me if you were here, and I had to tell her no but that you might be later on."
"What sort of voice?" asked Charlie, hardly daring to breathe.
"Faint, but very sweet. I believe I was speaking to someone many hundr
eds of years distant."
"Matilda!" Charlie's voice was almost as faint as that faraway girl's.
Alice stood away from the window so Charlie could touch the same pane of glass. He took a breath and laid his hand on the window. The glass felt hard and cold. But he let his hand rest there for several minutes.
After a while, Alice said gently. "I must warn you, Charlie, that you may never feel the girl's touch. I am peculiarly sensitive to the past."
"I'll wait," he said. "I'll wait until she comes back."
Alice left him leaning against the window, his hand beginning to turn blue on the cold glass. As she closed the spare room's door, she felt a pang of guilt. Perhaps she had given Charlie false hope, telling him about that distant girl, and yet how could she have kept it from him?
An hour later Alice brought Charlie a mug of cocoa and some cookies. He made her put them on a rickety table beside him, so that he could reach it with one hand.
"The girl might be asleep now, Charlie." Alice carefully lifted his hand and laid her own on the glass. "Perhaps your Matilda can't reach the gate between our worlds just now," she suggested. "I think you should go to bed, Charlie, and try again tomorrow."
Charlie shook his head. "I'll wait," he insisted.
When Alice had gone, he sipped his cocoa and quickly changed hands. "Matilda!" He spoke close to the glass, his breath steaming up the window. "I'm here. It's Charlie. I'm coming to Badlock."
But how could he get there?
Charlie sat back in the rocker, and with one hand still touching the window, he fell asleep.
17
EAGLE THIEF
Emma had gone to bed feeling useless. She lay awake for a long time, her thoughts divided between Olivia and Tancred. And then she began to worry about her aunt. Paton Yewbeam had woefully neglected her with his sudden changes of plan, his lack of attention, and his forgetfulness. As for the enchanter, could that ancient book be right? Was it possible that Count Harken could surround the city with a mist of enchantment and drag it back into the past?