by Jenny Nimmo
"Cook!" Dr. Saltweather called softly "Could I have a word?"
Cook looked around, surprised by the doctor's furtive tone. "Of course, Doctor." She walked back to him.
Dr. Saltweather smoothed out the back page of his newspaper and held it out to Cook, pointing at the small column near the bottom. "What do you think about that?"
Cook quickly scanned the article and gasped. "What do I think?" she said tremulously. "I think it means trouble, Dr. Saltweather. Very bad trouble, especially for certain people in this city."
"Like whom?" The doctor was intrigued.
"Like Charlie Bone and his uncle," said Cook.
“Ah." Dr. Saltweather stroked his chin. "Charlie wasn't in assembly today nor was little Billy Raven."
"I've had word about him," said Cook, "but this" — she tapped the paper — "this is extremely serious. I must make a phone call immediately."
"But, Cook, how can it be?" said Dr. Saltweather, now more baffled than ever. "Two people in one. How did it happen?"
"Believe me, it can do that sort of thing," said Cook, hastening back in the direction from which shed come.
"IT?" called Dr. Saltweather.
"Yes, ‘IT,'" Cook replied, scurrying faster. "I'll explain another time. But right now, I must make a call. Thank you, Doctor, thank you. We have reason to be very, very grateful for this information." Her voice trailed off as she disappeared around a corner.
Dr. Saltweather suddenly remembered that he should be attending a meeting in the Wind room with Mr. Paltry and Tantalus Ebony The head of music was late for his meeting, but when he got to the Wind room, Tantalus Ebony wasn't there.
"He's not in school," said old Mr. Paltry picking his teeth with a matchstick. "Didn't you notice? He wasn't in assembly."
"No. No, I didn't." Dr. Saltweather felt foolish, anxious, and confused all at the same time. "I wish you wouldn't smoke," he said to the eldedy flutist. "It sets a bad example."
"I don't smoke." Mr. Paltry slipped the match into his pocket.
"I can smell it, Reginald," said Dr. Saltweather. "No wonder you're short of breath these days." He gave a sigh of irritation. "We'd better get on without Mr. Ebony."
* * *
A breathless Cook hurried into the kitchen and picked up the receiver of a phone situated on the wall beside the swinging door. The kitchen staff was chattering together in the background, and Cook had no fear of being overheard. She quickly dialed a number and listened to the phone ringing at number nine Filbert Street.
"Yes?" said an irritated voice.
Cook deepened her voice and, speaking like an old man, said, "I would like to speak to Mr. Paton Yewbeam."
"He's not here," said Grandma Bone.
"Mrs. Jones, then," said Cook. "She'll do."
"What's this about?" demanded Grandma Bone.
"Er . . . it's the dry cleaning . . .."
"Not my best coat? Black with a velvet collar." This was shouted so loudly Cook had to hold the receiver away from her ear.
"No, no. The article in question is red and . . ."
"Maisie, phone! Your clothes are in trouble." The receiver was dropped onto a table and Cook heard footsteps receding on a tiled floor. A moment later, Maisie's anxious voice said, "Yes? What's happened?"
"Maisie, it's me, Cook. But don't let on," said Cook in her normal voice. "I wanted to speak to Mr. Yewbeam, but apparently he's out."
"Not just out," said Maisie, lowering her voice. "Gone. Amy and I are very worried. He got news about Charlie, and then he and . . . and, you know, that Mr. Crowquill took off very early this morning."
"Dear, oh dear." Cook didn't know what to make of this. "And have you any idea where they've gone?"
Maisie put her mouth right over the receiver and whispered, "Castle of Mirrors."
"Worse and worse. I fear someone else is on the way there, too. Have you any means of contacting Mr. Yewbeam?"
"None," said Maisie. "He left his cell phone behind."
A voice beside Maisie said, "Why are you whispering to the dry cleaner?"
"Wasn't. Lost my voice. Tragedy with red cardigan." Maisie's voice became too faint for Cook to hear, but then it suddenly returned. "Thank you so much for informing me," she said to Cook. "I'll come by to pick up what's left of it later. Good-bye."
Cook replaced the receiver. "Nothing to be done," she muttered.
"I'd say there was quite a lot." One of the kitchen assistants came tripping up to Cook with a tray of burned pies. "We'll have to bake some more."
"You'll have to bake some more," snapped Cook. "I didn't burn them."
* * *
Fidelio Gunn was becoming more anxious by the minute. Gabriel had whispered something to him in assembly but he could hardly make out what it was. All he heard were the words, "Charlie . . . a castle . . . and Billy Raven." Fidelio couldn't imagine what had happened to Charlie. It wasn't like his friend to rush off somewhere without telling him.
"Fidelio, you're not concentrating," said Miss Chrystal, who was accompanying him on the piano.
Fidelio lowered his violin and studied a music score on the stand before him. "Sorry, Miss Chrystal. I lost my place."
"What's the matter?" Miss Chrystal swung around on the music stool. "You played this piece almost perfectly last week."
Miss Chrystal was a very young teacher. She had blond hair and the sort of pretty features that almost invited children to confide in her. She kept their secrets and had never been known to betray any of them.
"I'm worried about my best friend," Fidelio blurted out.
"Charlie Bone?"
"Yes. He's not in school and I don't know what's happened to him."
"Dr. Saltweather may have heard something. I'll let you know what I find out during lunch break, shall I?" Miss Chrystal smiled encouragingly
"Thanks, Miss Chrystal." Fidelio settled the violin under his chin and prepared to play again.
The lesson was not a success, and as soon as the bell rang, he rushed out rather rudely and tore off to the coatroom to hang up his cape. He was just about to go outside when he saw Dorcas Loom approaching the door to the Music Tower. She had a blue cape bundled under her arm.
Fidelio was suspicious. "Whose is that, Dorcas?" he asked.
She gave a little start. "Oh, it's Mr. Pilgrim's," she said, recovering her composure. "It was found in the library so I'm taking it up to the music room."
"But Mr. Pilgrim has left."
Dorcas shrugged. "So what!"
"So . . .," Fidelio hesitated. Dorcas' sly expression bothered him. She had a reputation for bewitching clothes. Could she have tampered with the blue- cape?
"Never mind." Fidelio stepped out into the garden.
Gabriel was nowhere to be seen, but Fidelio spied Tancred talking to the new boy Joshua Tilpin. Fidelio ran up to them. "Tancred, can I have a word in private?" He glanced at Joshua.
Tancred patted Joshua's shoulder and said, "Run along, Josh. And thank you for finding that book."
Joshua beamed at Tancred. "Anytime, Tancred. See you later." The small boy sauntered off on legs that looked as though they couldn't support a bird, let alone a boy.
"He's weird," Fidelio remarked lightheartedly
"Not at all," said Tancred. "He's a good guy Very helpful."
Fidelio changed the subject. "I wondered if you know what has happened to Charlie?"
"As a matter of fact, I do. Let's walk a bit."
Fidelio followed Tancred up to the castle walls, where he found Emma and Olivia sitting on top of the log pile. Olivia appeared to have an endless supply of apples, because here she was, peeling again with the small silver knife that she carried everywhere. Emma was watching her friend with a frown that had become permanent lately.
"These two know what's happened," said Tancred, perching on one of the lower logs.
"I'm always the last to know anything these days." Fidelio sat on a log halfway up.
"That's because you're not endowed," said Olivi
a. "Not that I am. And not that I'd want to be."
Fidelio ignored her. "Tancred, tell me please, where's Charlie gone?"
Tancred took a breath. "It all started on Sunday morning when Billy Raven escaped from his new parents." I le went on to tell Fidelio everything.
"Phew!" Fidelio glanced at the looming red walls. "That's what all the fuss was about. It woke me up. Dogs barking, cars honking, police sirens, thunder — that was you, I suppose," he said to Tancred.
"Guilty!" Tancred put up his hands with a grin. "But Sander saved the day If it wasn't for him, I don't think I'd be here."
They could see Lysander arguing with Asa Pike on the other side of the playing field, and Tancred said, Asa's really got it in for Sander today First, he said Sander's tie wasn't straight, then he said he was being too noisy which he wasn't, and now look at him."
"I've got a bad feeling about today," said Emma quietly.
Fidelio knew what she meant. Maybe it had something to do with Charlie's absence. "What's all this about a castle of mirrors?" he asked.
"My auntie read about it in a book," said Emma. "Hundreds of years ago, one of the Red King's children set the castle on fire, with his brother's family still inside. But one of them escaped, and that was Billy's ancestor. The walls of the castle turned to shining glass. Imagine!"
"And Charlie thinks he'll find his father there," Tancred added.
Olivia suddenly jumped up and flung her apple into the bushes. "I wish Charlie was here," she said, striding away from diem.
Fidelio felt the same way
* * *
That night, the atmosphere in the King's room was distinctly chilly It was a chill that seeped right through to the bone and Emma, for one, couldn't stop shivering. She shook so much that her pen kept dropping out of her hand. The third time she dropped it, the pen rolled right across the table, and Emma was sure that Inez or Idith had pushed it. The twins kept staring at Emma with their blue china-doll eyes, and she found it almost impossible to concentrate.
Joshua Tilpin had taken Charlie's empty seat beside Emma, and he leaned over the table, picked up her pen, and handed it back to her. He gave her a little smile that tugged at her until she was forced to smile back. But Joshua wanted more than a smile; he wanted her to fly. Emma suddenly imagined herself a great hawk, swooping over her friends, attacking their heads, their hands . . .. But why would she do such a terrible thing? She looked away from Joshua. He gave her the creeps.
Gabriel, sitting on the other side of Emma, whispered, “Are you OK, Em?"
Emma nodded.
"Quiet!" said Manfred. "No whispering."
Inez and Idith turned their cold gaze on Gabriel, Asa's yellow eyes hardened, and Dorcas Loom gave a secretive smile.
Emma glanced along the line beside her. Gabriel, Tancred, and Lysander were bent over their books. Their gloomy frowns made her feel even more uneasy
When homework was over, the endowed children began to file out of the King's room with Manfred at their head. Emma waited for Gabriel, who was taking longer than usual to pack up his work. The same thing was happening to Tancred and Lysander. Books dropped, others wouldn't close. Pens rolled away and paper fluttered out of their hands.
"Something's wrong," said Emma.
"You can say that again," groaned Lysander.
"We're outnumbered," Gabriel said. "Four to five, six, if you count Manfred."
The three boys managed to gather everything together at last, and Emma walked with them toward the dormitories. As they were crossing the landing, Gabriel turned away from the group and began to run down into the hall.
"Where are you going, Gabe?" called Lysander. "Matron'll get you!"
"I'm allowed to do half an hour's practice in the Music Tower," said Gabriel. "Mr. Ebony gave me special permission on Friday." He pulled a note from his pocket. "So Matron will have to shove it."
This brought a smile to his friends' faces, but all three felt inexplicably uneasy as they watched Gabriel cross the hall to the door in the Music Tower.
Gabriel too had a sense of foreboding, but he loved to practice on the grand piano, and it was precisely because he had been feeling so troubled that he could hardly wait to lose himself in music.
It was a long climb to the top of the lower, and when Gabriel reached the music room, he had to sit on a stool to recover his breath. As he lifted the piano lid, he noticed a blue cape on a chair beside the window Surely it had to be Mr. Pilgrim's. Gabriel had always been very attached to Mr. Pilgrim. The strange teacher was a brilliant pianist, and although he made very few comments, Gabriel had always been aware of Mr. Pilgrim's warm approval.
Where was the piano teacher now? What had happened to him? Gabriel seldom used his endowment. It could affect him badly if he put on the clothes of someone who had suffered grief or pain. But this time Gabriel's curiosity got the better of him, and he felt compelled to put on the cape.
As soon as he pulled the hood over his head, reality began to slide away and Gabriel was imprisoned in a darkness so deep and dreadful he couldn't escape from it. He tried to tear the hood away but his arms were useless, and he was forced to endure the horror until he fell senseless to the floor.
THE WALL OF HISTORY
On a silver-while beach far away from his friends' misfortunes, Charlie found himself in a difficult situation. Billy had become angry and frightened when he heard the story of Prince Amadis. With his head down and hands thrust deep in his pockets, the white-haired boy paced the beach, kicking at sand and shells. "Why didn't you tell me?" he cried accusingly. "Why didn't you tell me about my guardian and the book and all those terrible things that happened — out there?"
"I'm sorry, Billy. My uncle didn't think it would be safe for you to know. And then, when we met the queen, somehow it was all too late." Charlie was keeping half an eye on the sea. The tide was coming in fast, and soon there would be no way off the beach. They were in a small bay with walls of dangerous-looking rocks on either side and an almost vertical cliff behind them. There was another problem. How would they reach the island?
Ignoring Billy for the moment, Charlie began to search the rocks and the base of the cliff for a boat. Why there should be one in such a secluded place, he hadn't considered. Slowly and steadily the sea crept over the sand.
"Charlie!" shrieked Billy suddenly aware of the last-approaching water. "What's happening?"
"The tide's coming in." Charlie was investigating a deep cave. It was so dark, he couldn't see where it ended. If only he had a flashlight. But he hadn't even brought a box of matches. A tiny light swept over his head and fluttered to the back of the cave. It was very faint, but it enabled Charlie to make out what looked like a boat, lying on its side at the top of a steep incline. The light moved across the cave, revealing a black wall glistening with water.
"Charlie! What are we going to do?" came a panic-stricken voice.
"Come and help," called Charlie. "I've found a boat."
Billy was beside him in a moment. "How did you find it?"
"There's a light." Charlie peered at the hovering shape. It had wings tipped with silver, "it's the white moth."
"Your wand," said Billy "and look, it's sitting on something."
“An oar," cried Charlie. "There are two of them."
It was a small boat, but it took all their strength to heave it down the sloping floor of the cave and out on to the beach. By the time they got there, the water was lapping at the mouth of the cave.
Pulling off his socks and shoes, Charlie rolled up his trousers and told Billy to do the same.
"Where are we going?" asked Billy
"Where do you think? To the island."
"N-n-nooooo!" moaned Billy "I don't want to. I won't. There'll be ghosts out there after what happened. Please don't make me."
"Don't be an idiot," said Charlie touchily "There's nowhere else to go. We'll drown if we wait any longer."
The boat was already beginning to float as they pulled it down the bea
ch, and Charlie ordered Billy to jump in before it was too late. Still whining, Billy scrambled over the side while Charlie held the boat steady and then Charlie was in, too. Sitting opposite Billy he fixed the oars into the oarlocks and began to paddle away from the cliff.
"Can you row?" asked Billy clinging to his narrow seat.
"Like a champion," said Charlie. "My great-grandpa lives by the sea."
"Oh!" said Billy with a hint of admiration.
It was true. Charlie had become an excellent oarsman during his visits to the sea with Uncle Paton. But he'd never covered such a huge distance as the one he was now attempting. He rowed against the tide and the sea got rough. Now and again a huge wave would spill over the side and Billy would shriek with terror. Trying to hide his own fear, Charlie advised Billy to keep his eyes shut until they were safe.
"Will we ever be safe?" Billy's pathetic voice was beginning to get on Charlie's nerves.
"If you can't cheer up, just shut up!" he barked.
Realizing his life was in Charlie's hands, Billy didn't say another word. Charlie's arms were already aching so badly that he thought they would drop off before he got to the island. Every time he looked over his shoulder, the blue-gray shape with its crown of glass looked as distant as ever. If anything, it seemed to be receding and Charlie began to doubt its existence. Maybe it was a mirage that they would never reach — a cruel trick that kept pulling them farther and farther away from the mainland and out on to the empty ocean.
Charlie decided he wouldn't look back again until he had counted up to five hundred. He had a short rest, took a deep breath, then saw the white moth resting on his sleeve. Remembering that his former wand needed instructions in Welsh, Charlie said, "Helpi vee! Help me!"
He wasn't sure what to expect, but nothing miraculous happened. Giant waves still rocked the boat and broke over the bow, sending sprays of water over Charlie's back. But long before he had counted to five hundred, the boat thudded against a rock, and this time, when Charlie looked over his shoulder, they were there.
Steering carefully around the rock, Charlie jumped out, instructing Billy to sit tight while he pulled him into shallow water.