Archie Greene and the Raven's Spell

by D D Everest

  ‘Yes!’ said the book. ‘You gave me this smart new blue one.’

  ‘You repaired all of us,’ said the big red book, ‘and we’d like to repay you in some way.’ It lowered its already whispering voice. ‘We heard your father was trapped in a book – maybe we can help you find out which one?’

  ‘Really?’ said Archie, suddenly very interested.

  ‘We like solving mysteries,’ said the deep voice. ‘When we get to the museum we’ll ask around. One of the books will know something.’

  ‘That’d be brilliant, thank you! Now I must dash. There’s something I need to ask Old Zeb about.’

  He heard a chorus of voices wishing him good luck and promising to keep in touch.

  At the bottom of the stairs he stepped into a long, dark corridor, lit by flaming torches.

  Three arched doors led off the corridor. The first was green; it was a magical portal called the Enchanted Entrance. Old Zeb had once shown Archie how to use it to get to other magical buildings. The second was blue, and led to the frozen lair of the bookend beasts, the stone griffins that had guarded the Great Library of Alexandria. Archie walked past these. The mending workshop was behind the third door, the red one. Beyond it, the passageway disappeared into shadows, and there was a fourth, black door, that led to Fabian Grey’s secret laboratory. This was where the Alchemists’ Club met, but they hadn’t had a meeting in weeks due to Arabella and Rupert being away.

  Archie pushed the red door open and stepped into the workshop.

  The Word Smithy, the furnace containing the Flame of Pharos, was open and Old Zeb, the bookbinder, was standing by it. He looked like a mad professor with his straggly, white hair standing up in clumps. A stack of damaged books was on the workbench waiting for the old man to repair them.

  ‘Mornin’, Archie,’ wheezed Old Zeb. ‘Didn’t expect to see you so early. Aren’t you meant to be at the meeting in Quill’s?’

  ‘I’ve already been,’ replied Archie.

  ‘That was quick!’ said the old bookbinder. ‘I thought you might want to catch up with your friends.’

  ‘Yes, I did, thanks. But there’s something I wanted to ask you about.’

  ‘Ah, curiosity!’ said Old Zeb, his eyes sparkling. ‘That’s what I like to see. Good lad. Stick the kettle on.’

  Old Zeb never did anything without a cup of tea first. Since becoming his apprentice, Archie had grown very fond of the old man and his eccentric ways.

  Archie filled up the copper kettle and put it on top of the Word Smithy. As he did, he felt the prickling sensation in his palm again. He felt uneasy and wondered briefly if he was about to get another firemark. Apprentices received a new firemark when the Flame of Pharos determined it was time for them to learn a new magical skill. But the last time he’d received a firemark it had spelled danger for the museum.

  Old Zeb noticed him scratching his hand. ‘Is that what you wanted to ask me about?’ he said.

  ‘No, it’s something else,’ Archie said, trying to ignore the itching in his palm. He finished making the tea and the two of them sat on stools at the workbench sipping from chipped teacups.

  ‘So then …’ said the old man after a while, ‘what’s bothering you?’

  Archie sighed. ‘Why would a spell suddenly disappear from a magical book?’ he asked.

  ‘You mean an old spell starting to fade?’ asked Old Zeb.

  Archie shook his head. ‘No, a new spell that’s just been written with azoth.’

  ‘Impossible!’ said Old Zeb. ‘If the spell has been written properly then it can’t just vanish!’

  Archie shrugged. ‘That’s what I thought. But it did!’

  Old Zeb’s expression turned grave. He pursed his lips in thought. ‘To make a freshly written spell vanish like that would require very powerful magic indeed.’

  There was a crackling sound from the Word Smithy, and the Flame of Pharos seemed to gutter. Old Zeb peered into the furnace.

  ‘What’s the matter, old girl?’ he said, eyeing the Flame with concern.

  ‘Is it all right?’ asked Archie, anxiously. ‘It looks like it might go out.’

  ‘Just hungry I expect,’ said the old man. ‘Magical flames aren’t easily extinguished. There are only two things that can snuff them out: griffin’s breath and dragon’s blood, and there aren’t many griffins or dragons in Oxford these days,’ he added with a twinkle in his eye.

  Archie knew the breath of a griffin was so cold it could be fatal. He’d seen the frozen lair of the two stone griffins called the bookend beasts behind the blue door. He also knew that dragons had unusual magical properties because … well, they were dragons. But he also had proof as he had a dragonskin bag that prevented magical spells escaping.

  The old bookbinder picked up a log from a stack and put it in the furnace. The Flame immediately burned brighter. He went to close the door but as he did an ember shot into the air and exploded, showering the room in sparks. Archie and Old Zeb gasped.

  Archie felt a familiar tingling sensation in his hand. He slowly opened it and stared at his palm.

  A new firemark had appeared. It was shaped like an open eye, with three red tears falling from it.

  ‘Let me see,’ said the old bookbinder, kindly. Grasping Archie’s hand, he peered at the mark. ‘How extraordinary,’ he muttered. ‘Three firemarks in such close succession. I’ve never heard of such a—’

  ‘Oh,’ he breathed, his eyes wide, ‘it’s the diviner’s firemark. The last person to get that was Wolfus Bone thirty-five years ago. Strange that it should appear now when Wolfus is injured! Mind you, Gideon had a hunch that one of the apprentices would get it soon. It’s been so long, you see.’

  ‘What does it mean?’ asked Archie, still staring at his hand. ‘What do I have to do?’

  The old man smiled. ‘It’s nothing to worry about,’ he said. He looked into Archie’s eyes. ‘But it means you’ll be starting a new apprenticeship. You must report to the Lost Books Department this afternoon.’

  ‘But I’ve still got so much to learn about bookbinding!’ said Archie. He loved working with the old man and didn’t want to leave.

  Old Zeb smiled again. ‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘It’s time. I was going to tell you myself anyway. It’s all here,’ he added, handing Archie a scroll tied with a red ribbon. ‘Go on, read it!’

  Archie slipped the scroll from its ribbon and unwound it. To his great surprise it was a diploma.

  This is to certify that Archie Greene

  has completed his training as a magical

  bookbinder and has passed with

  flying colours!

  It was signed:

  Zebediah Alluitious Perret,

  Master Bookbinder at the Museum of

  Magical Miscellany.

  ‘There,’ said the old bookbinder, beaming. ‘I told you you were a natural.’

  Archie was speechless. As he gazed at the diploma he felt a strange mix of emotions – great pride that he had measured up to Old Zeb’s exacting standards, but at the same time sadness that their time together was coming to an end.

  The old man seemed to read his thoughts. He patted Archie on the shoulder.

  ‘I remember the day I gave your father his diploma,’ he said with a wistful smile. ‘I can see him now, standing just where you are. I wish he could be here to see you today,’ he added. ‘He’d be very proud. Very proud indeed.’

  Archie wished his father was there now, too, and his mother and sister. If only the mended books could find out where they were.

  Archie shook the old man’s outstretched hand. ‘It’s been a pleasure teaching you,’ said Old Zeb. ‘Now it’s time for you to start your new training in Lost Books.’

  ‘The Flame has a plan for you, Archie,’ he added. ‘It always did!’

  *

  When Archie caught up with his cousins in Quill’s at lunchtime he was bursting to tell them his news. He showed them his bookbinding diploma and his new firemark.

  �
��Wow!’ gasped Thistle. ‘I’ve never seen that firemark before.’

  ‘Wolfus Bone was the last person to get it,’ said Archie. ‘I’m to report to Lost Books this afternoon.’

  ‘That’s quick!’ exclaimed Bramble. ‘How exciting!’

  ‘Its also a bit daunting,’ said Archie. ‘I mean, Gideon Hawke is nice enough, but he’s a bit intimidating. What if I’m not up to the job?’

  ‘You’ll be fine,’ said Bramble. ‘You’re a fast learner. And Lost Books is a brilliant place to work; it’s the most important department because it’s where all the newly discovered books go to be classified.’

  ‘Lost Books?’ said a voice. ‘How come you get all the cushy jobs? It’s not fair!’

  They looked up to see Peter Quiggley’s round face. Quiggley had started his apprenticeship at the same time as Archie and Arabella. He’d had a rather unfortunate start to his career at the museum. On his first day Greaders had mistaken him for Archie and kidnapped him, believing he was the book whisperer.

  Quiggley’s captors had released him after a few hours when they realised their mistake, but Quiggley was very angry about it. It wasn’t clear whether he was crosser about being abducted or being released because he wasn’t considered magical enough to keep.

  He’d had a chip on his shoulder about it ever since. He seemed to resent Archie in particular, and never missed an opportunity to put him or his cousins down. Quiggley also had a reputation for being lazy and was always looking to score points against the members of the Alchemists’ Club and get them into trouble.

  ‘Mind your own business, Quiggley,’ said Bramble. ‘We didn’t ask for your opinion.’

  ‘Perhaps not,’ said Quiggley, ‘but you lot won’t always get the best jobs.’

  He gave them a smug smile and moved away.

  ‘I wonder what he’s looking so pleased with himself about,’ said Thistle.

  ‘He’s not worth bothering with,’ said Bramble. ‘Come on, Archie, it’s time you made an appearance in Lost Books. Let’s get some motion potions.’

  Motion potions were the antigravity potions needed to ride on the seats of learning – the flying chairs that the apprentices used to transport themselves to the museum underground.

  ‘All right, Arch? All right, Bram? All right, Thistle? What’ll it be today?’ asked Pink as they approached the bar. It was her job to make the motion potions.

  ‘I’ll have my usual,’ said Bramble.

  Pink smiled. ‘Right you are – one shot in the dark,’ she said. ‘In a choc-tail?’

  ‘Yes, please!’ said Bramble smacking her lips.

  Motion potions came in lots of different flavours, and the apprentices could choose to drink them with hot chocolate as a choc-tail, or with fruit juices. A shot in the dark tasted of wild berries and citrus.

  ‘What about you, Arch?’ inquired Pink.

  ‘He’s starting in Lost Books today!’ Thistle jumped in excitedly.

  ‘Lost Books!’ said Pink. ‘Better make it something special then. How about a missing link?’

  Archie scanned the menu of motion potions pinned up behind the bar. A missing link was a blend of strawberries, bananas and blueberries with ‘added zip’.

  ‘What’s “added zip”?’ he asked.

  Pink winked. ‘That’s the missing link. It just makes the ride a bit quicker,’ she said. ‘Perfectly safe – I use it all the time myself.’

  ‘All right, then,’ said Archie, ‘I’ll have a missing link.’

  ‘And I’ll have the same,’ said Thistle, rubbing his hands together with excitement.

  ‘One shot in the dark and two missing links coming right up,’ said Pink. ‘And which seats of learning will you be using?’

  ‘The box seats,’ said Bramble.

  Each of the seats of learning had its own history. Some, like the box seats, allowed more than one apprentice to travel together.

  ‘They’re all yours,’ said Pink, lining up three glasses. She took down a bottle from a shelf and poured two drops of a thick crimson liquid into the first glass, adding a few drips from a blue bottle and a drop from a black bottle. Then she picked up three bottles at the same time and poured them into the other two glasses. Finally she added a slug of a bright blue liquid to the two glasses.

  ‘That’s the added zip,’ she said, smiling at Archie. She tipped the glasses into three tall mugs and topped them up with steaming hot chocolate.

  ‘Here you go,’ she said.

  They collected their motion potions and crossed the room to the snugs where the seats of learning were located.

  The box seats were a row of ancient wooden theatre seats behind a red and gold curtain. The three cousins buckled themselves into their chairs and closed the curtain.

  ‘Bottoms up!’ said Archie, clinking his glass first with Bramble and then with Thistle.

  ‘Down the hatch!’ said Thistle.

  They downed their motion potions. Archie’s fingers and toes had just begun to tingle pleasantly when the floor opened and the box seats plunged through the gap.

  4

  The Lost Books Department

  The next thing they knew they were hurtling through the underground passages and caverns that led to the Museum of Magical Miscellany. It didn’t matter how many times he rode on them, Archie never tired of the seats of learning. They were like the best-ever roller-coaster ride and flying all rolled into one. Sharing it with his cousins made it even more fun.

  Every time they went around a bend, all three of them whooped with delight. Archie and Thistle’s seats seemed to be moving even faster than normal today.

  ‘Keep up, Bram!’ Thistle called over his shoulder as the two of them pulled ahead. It must be the added zip in the motion potion, Archie thought.

  The tunnel ended abruptly and they flew into the Bookery, a cavernous space, where magical books flew about like flocks of birds. The flying books swooped and soared all around them, dodging out of their way at the last moment.

  Ahead of them in the gloom a light shone. The box seats flew towards it, descending in a series of circles and coming to a halt in a long corridor called the Happy Landing.

  ‘We’re here,’ said Archie, unclipping his belt and hopping out of his seat.

  As usual, the museum was full of apprentices. Most of those working in the Great Gallery were doing their minding apprenticeships. Minders made sure all the magical books were in good order and filed in the right place.

  The finders were assigned to one of the three magical departments: natural, mortal or supernatural magic. They learned to identify which sort of magic a book contained. There was usually only one apprentice bookbinder at a time who, until a few days ago, had been Archie but the position was now vacant.

  The air above their heads was filled with flying books, flapping their covers like wings. There was an enchantment on the building that allowed the books with a special stamp to move. It saved the apprentices work because the books filed themselves on the shelves.

  Archie made his way to the West Gallery and up the first set of stairs leading to the Scriptorium. Lost Books was on the next floor, up a second staircase.

  ‘Good luck, Arch,’ said Bramble. ‘Not that you need it, you’ll be fine.’

  ‘Tell us all about it after work,’ added Thistle.

  Archie reached the top step and waved. One of the double doors was open.

  Gideon Hawke was sitting behind his desk staring at a green glass bottle that looked like the sort that contains medicine. When he saw Archie, he quickly slid it into a drawer.

  ‘Ah, Archie!’ he called. ‘Come on in.’

  Archie was slightly in awe of Hawke. Recently the head of Lost Books had taken a keen interest in Archie’s book-whispering talents and the magic-writing skills of the Alchemists’ Club.

  It had been Hawke’s idea that Archie and the others should start rewriting the magical books in the museum in secret. Some of the other elders knew what they were doing but Hawke had said
it was better if the Magical League and the Royal Society of Magic didn’t know. It would only cause trouble, he said.

  ‘Come in and sit down,’ Hawke said, indicating the battered leather sofa in the middle of the room. There was a fire burning in the hearth. On the desk, Archie noticed some magical tools. The black-handled imagining glass Hawke used to examine magical books was there, and the Shadow Blade, the enchanted blade made from the reflection of a shooting star.

  Archie took a seat on the sofa. The room was as cluttered as ever but a table had been cleared next to the desk and a crystal ball the size of a very large goldfish bowl placed upon it. Archie was sure it hadn’t been there before.

  ‘It’s an oculus,’ said Hawke, answering Archie’s unspoken question. ‘It allows me to communicate directly with the magical authorities. Unfortunately, it also enables them to communicate directly with me!’ he added with a wry smile.

  Archie peered at his own reflection in the oculus, noticing how his nose and lips were magnified in the glass.

  When he looked up, Hawke was studying him. ‘But you aren’t here to learn about magical instruments,’ he said. ‘Zeb tells me that you have the magic diviner’s mark. Show me.’

  Archie held out his open hand. Hawke picked up the imagining glass and inspected the new firemark there. When he was satisfied, he stood up and began pacing the room, a sure sign that he had something on his mind. After a while, he crossed to the fire and stared into the flames. ‘I suppose you heard about what happened to Wolfus?’ he asked.

  Archie knew that Bone had received a nasty drubbing because he’d overheard Woodbine telling Loretta. There was no point lying to Hawke – he always seemed to see straight through him.

  He nodded. ‘Is he badly hurt?’

  Hawke stoked the fire with a poker. ‘He’ll recover,’ he said, ‘but it was a vicious attack. He’ll be out of action for some time.’ He paused. ‘It leaves us without a diviner at the museum at a time when we need one most.’