by Jenny Nimmo
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parties, for all he knows. So he can't tell Billy a thing about our little chat, or his inheritance."
"Are you sure?" Dagbert eyed the dog suspiciously.
"Absolutely," said Dr. Bloor. "The only words that dog knows are his names: Percy or Blessed."
This wasn't strictly true. Blessed might not have been able to comprehend every word that was said, but he understood the current of feeling in the room. He knew they were talking about his friend Billy, and he was aware that the two strangers brought trouble. They smelled of mists and rotting wood. Their skins were cold and slippery, and behind their voices waves could be heard, beating on a stony shore. The boy's eyes glimmered like frozen water and the man's face told of wrecked ships and pitiless drownings. Blessed would describe all this to Billy and Billy would tell Cook. And Cook would give Blessed a large bone, Blessed hoped. The old dog made for the door, wagging his bald tail and slobbering badly as he thought of the longed-for bone.
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There came a loud knock on the door and, as it opened, Blessed hurried past Weedon into the hall.
"Cook's put a bit of supper on the table," Weedon announced grumpily.
"Ah!" Dr. Bloor rubbed his hands together. "The dining room is just down the hallway. This way, everyone."
As the two visitors followed Dr. Bloor a small woman emerged from the dining room. Cook was rounder than she had once been and her dark hair was touched with gray, but her rosy face still held traces of her former beauty. When she saw Dr. Bloor and his guests approaching she stood aside to let them pass.
"Thank you, Cook," said Dr. Bloor.
Cook nodded and then gave a small involuntary shudder. She pressed a handkerchief to her face and hastened away. Her heart was pounding so fast that Blessed could hear it as she ran down the stairs behind him.
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"Oh, grief. Oh, horrors. It's him. It's him. Oh, Blessed, what am I to do? Why here? Why now?"
Cook burst into the blue cafeteria with Blessed hard on her heels, the handkerchief still pressed to her mouth as though the very air she breathed was poisoned.
"Cook, what's the matter?"
Cook hadn't noticed the white-haired boy sitting at a corner table.
"Oh, Billy, love. I've had a dreadful shock." She pulled out a chair and sat beside him. "A man is here. He... he..." She shook her head. "Billy, I'll have to tell you. He drowned my parents, swept away my home, and murdered my fiance, all because I would not marry him."
Billy's wine-colored eyes widened in alarm. "Here? But why?"
"That I couldn't tell you. Something to do with the boy he's brought, I imagine." Cook blew her nose and tucked the handkerchief into her sleeve. "Grimwald's
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his name. It was forty years ago, and I don't know if he recognized me. But if he did ..." She closed her eyes against unimaginable horrors. "If he did, I'll have to leave."
"Leave? You can't leave, Cook!" Billy leaped to his feet and flung his arms around Cook's neck. "What will I do without you? You can't leave. Please say you won't. Please, please."
Cook twisted her head from side to side. "I just don't know, Billy. There've been some pretty awful people in this place, but he's the worst. And if the boy is anything like him, then we're in for a rough ride, believe me."
Blessed suddenly put his paws on Cook's lap and, throwing back his head, let out such a mournful howl that Billy had to cover his ears.
"He knows," Billy whispered. "He wants to tell me something, but I'm not sure that I want to hear it."
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DAGBERT ENDLESS
On Monday morning a new boy appeared at Bloor's Academy. He wore the compulsory blue cape of a music student. Charlie met him for the first time in assembly. The music students had their own orchestra, and today Charlie's friend Fidelio was lead violin. He waved his bow at Charlie just as the head of music, Dr. Saltweather, came onto the stage.
"Who's that?" said a voice in Charlie's ear.
Charlie looked around to see a boy a few inches taller than himself with long, wet-looking hair and aquamarine eyes.
"Who's who?" asked Charlie.
"The boy with the violin."
"He's called Fidelio Gunn," said Charlie. "He's a friend of mine."
"Is he? And is he a good violinist?"
"Brilliant," said Charlie. "I'm Charlie, by the way."
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Dr. Saltweather raised his hand for silence, and the orchestra struck up.
Thirty minutes later the new boy caught up with Charlie as he left assembly. He handed Charlie a letter. Charlie didn't like the look of it. He recognized the Bloors official stationery. Printed in large, ornate script were the words:
CharlieBone has Been designated official monitor to DagBert Endless. He will show himall locations relevant to a music student in the second year. He will also acquaint DagBert with the rules and regulations of thisacademy, and impart to him allinformation regarding compulsoryattire and equipment. IfDagBert Endless infringes upon any academy rule, Charlie Bone will Be heldresponsible.
Charlie swallowed hard.
"That's me," said the boy, pointing to his name on the letter. "Dagbert Endless."
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Charlie was baffled. "I wonder why they've chosen me."
"Because you're endowed," Dagbert told him. "So am I. Don't know a thing about music. Wouldn't mind having a go at the drums, though. What about you?"
"Me? Oh, I play the trumpet," Charlie replied. He wondered why the boy had arrived so late in the school year. They were almost halfway through the second term.
"I come from the North," Dagbert informed him. "The far, far North. I was at Loth's Academy but they expelled me."
Charlie was instantly intrigued. "What for?"
"There was a drowning," the boy said airily. "Not my fault, of course, but you know how parents are. They wanted retribution and someone gave them my name." Dagbert lowered his voice. "He didn't last long, I can assure you."
"Who?"
"The snitcher."
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They had reached the hall and Charlie was so keen to hear the gruesome details of the drowning, he quite forgot the rules. "So what happened then?"
"Silence in the hall, Charlie Bone," called one of the prefects, a cheerful girl who rarely gave detention.
"This way," Charlie whispered, nudging Dagbert's arm.
They walked to a door beneath a carving of crossed trumpets. Once through the door Charlie said, "I'm glad Fiona's on duty and not Manfred Bloor."
"What's wrong with Manfred?" asked Dagbert.
Charlie didn't like the look that Dagbert shot at him. "Never mind." Quickly changing the subject, Charlie explained that they were in the blue coat-room of the music students. "Drama students wear purple capes - their coatroom door is under two masks - and crossed paintbrushes show where the art students go. They wear green. We have our own cafeterias, too. But we all work together, except when we do music, art, or drama."
Children began to crowd around Dagbert. Where
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did he come from? Why was he here? Did he live in the city?
Charlie noticed Billy Raven sitting in a corner. As soon as he saw Dagbert he gave Charlie one of his worried looks and ran out. Dagbert glanced at the small white-haired boy before talking to the others. He told none of them what he had told Charlie. He would only say that he lived above a fish shop.
"I like fish, you see." He gave Charlie a private smile.
"He's an odd fish," Fidelio Gunn whispered in Charlie's ear.
Charlie grinned. Dagbert saw Fidelio's head close to Charlie's and the smile left his f
ace. His eyes suddenly became so icy they sent a shiver down Charlie's spine.
"It's English next," Charlie said. "We'd better get to Mr. Carp's room."
"You should enjoy that, eh, Dagbert?" said Fidelio. "A carp is a very fine fish."
Dagbert was not amused. "Show me the way," he commanded.
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They left the blue coatroom and made their way through groups of children in blue, green, or purple capes, all heading in different directions.
Mr. Carp was stout and red-faced. He was always dressed very neatly in a striped vest and smart gray suit. He found Charlie Bone irritating, partly because of his messy hair and partly because his mind always seemed to be elsewhere. He didn't pay attention and sometimes gave silly answers that made the class laugh.
"You, boy, sit there," he told Dagbert. "That's right, next to Charlie Bone. He is to be your monitor, I'm told. Though he needs one himself, if you ask me." Mr. Carp laughed at his own joke while the rest of the class remained silent.
Dagbert took the desk next to Charlie. On the other side of Charlie, Fidelio raised an eyebrow. With a scraping of chairs the class sat down and a lesson on punctuation began.
For the rest of the day Dagbert stuck to Charlie like a limpet. It wasn't Dagbert's fault, Charlie reasoned,
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but he was beginning to seriously affect Charlie's social life. His friends Emma and Olivia approached during break, but things took a bad turn when Olivia suggested that Dagbert smelled fishy. Charlie had assumed that the smell was wafting up from the kitchens but now he realized that Olivia was right.
Dagbert's response caught Charlie off guard. "We think you stink of cheap perfume, don't we, Charlie?" He winked at Charlie, who opened his mouth to protest when Dagbert continued. "And we think you both look a mess. Those ridiculous hairdos, for one thing."
"I... didn't... ," Charlie stuttered.
Emma stared at him in dismay, while Olivia said, "I see. Well, we know where we stand, don't we?" She grabbed Emma's arm and dragged her away. They'd only gone a few steps when Olivia turned back and called, "I always knew you were a fraud, Charlie Bone. A fraud and a liar."
Charlie would have run after the girls, but Olivia's hurtful words stopped him in his tracks. Had she
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always thought him a fraud? He watched the two girls walk across the grounds. In her purple cape, red coat, and black tights, Olivia looked anything but a mess. Her brown hair was streaked with black and gold and topped with a small black velvet beret. Charlie had been about to compliment her when Dagbert made his fatal remark. Even Emma looked elegant today, with her blond hair piled on top of her head.
"Let them go," said Dagbert. "We know their type. Airheads."
"Stop saying 'we, " Charlie said irritably. "We don't have the same opinions at all. And those girls aren't airheads."
Dagbert ignored this. "You promised to show me the Red Castle. I can see the walls from here. Come on."
At the far end of the grounds, the deep red walls of a castle could be glimpsed between the trees. Now a ruin, it was difficult to believe that the Red King had once held court there. At times, Charlie had found the ruin a refuge, but always there was a feeling of
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unease behind the great walls, a hint of the castle's troubled past when the king's children had turned against one another.
"You go ahead," Charlie told Dagbert. "I want to talk to someone." He had seen his friend Gabriel Silk wandering toward them.
As Gabriel got closer, Dagbert said loudly, "You're right, Charlie. What a loser."
It was unfortunate that Gabriel happened to be passing Bragger Braine, the worst bully in the second year. Bragger and the group of boys surrounding him took one look at Gabriel's long, sad face and burst into malicious laughter.
"Gabe!" Charlie shouted.
But Gabriel had fled. Charlie scanned the grounds and eventually saw Gabriel running for the garden door.
"Dagbert, why did you say that?" Charlie demanded angrily. "Gabriel's very sensitive. I don't know how I'm going to explain things to him."
"I wouldn't bother," Dagbert said casually. "Who
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wants a friend like that? I heard he can't even wear old clothes."
"He can't help it. He gets all the feelings of the people who've worn the clothes before him." Charlie stamped his foot. "And if you want to see the ruin, go by yourself."
Furious, Charlie stormed away from Dagbert and made for the school. The smell of fish suddenly became so overpowering he almost retched. It was a relief to get inside the hall and close the door against the choking odor. Charlie ran along to the blue coat-room where Gabriel often took refuge when things weren't going well. But instead of Gabriel, he found Billy Raven, huddled at the end of a bench.
"Billy, have you seen Gabriel?" Charlie asked.
Billy shook his head. He looked very troubled.
"What is it?" Charlie sat beside the smaller boy.
"You need to know some things," said Billy, "about that boy Dagbert. Blessed told me -"
"There you are!" Dagbert stood in the doorway, his face blank and the fish smell under control. It seemed
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to be something he could send out or stop at will. "You've got some freaky friends, Charlie Bone."
"Look," said Charlie, trying hard to keep his temper. "I don't mind being your monitor but leave my friends alone or..."
"Or what?" Dagbert's expression hardened.
Charlie couldn't think of a reply.
"Or nothing," Dagbert answered for him. "You're powerless, Charlie Bone. So you might as well make the best of things."
Charlie was thinking, He's seen off three of my friends. But there's always Tancred and Lysander. He stared at Dagbert, but whatever the fish boy was, he didn't appear to be a mind reader.
After supper, while other students went to their classrooms, Charlie led Dagbert up to the King's room.
"What is the King's room?" asked Dagbert as they climbed the narrow staircase at the far end of the building.
"It's where the Red King's portrait hangs. All
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endowed children have to do their homework there. Because we're the Red King's descendants."
"So now I'll get to meet the rest of you." Dagbert leaped ahead of Charlie. By the time Charlie reached the tall black doors of the King's room, Dagbert was already inside. Charlie found him gazing at the shelves of books that lined the curving walls.
"A round room," Dagbert observed with satisfaction, "and a round table. How Arthurian."
Four children came in: Joshua Tilpin, Dorcas Loom, and the twins, Inez and Idith Branko.
"Now let me see." Dagbert stared at Joshua. "Magnetism?"
Joshua beamed.
"Good, good." Dagbert turned to Dorcas, who was setting her books in order on the table. "And you can bewitch clothing?"
"How can you tell?" asked Dorcas, a large girl with a puffy face and tangled, yellow hair.
"I can't," Dagbert admitted. "Someone told me."
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"And we are telekinetic," one of the twins announced. No one could tell them apart. They both had pale, doll-like faces and shiny black hair. Their bangs ended in a sharp line just above their eyes, dark eyes that never showed a trace of emotion. "Who are you?" the same twin asked.
"I am a boy whose name is as endless as the ocean." Dagbert smiled at them. "My name is Dagbert."
The twins gaped at him. Neither of them asked any more questions.
Charlie felt uncomfortable alone in the room with four children who had made no secret of being his enemies, and a fifth who cer
tainly couldn't be described as a friend. He heaved a sigh of relief when Tancred and Lysander appeared.
Tancred was in a particularly boisterous mood; his green cape billowed around him like a cloud, his blond hair stood up in spikes, and books kept fluttering out of his hands. As he placed his homework on the table, a gust of wind whistled around the room
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carrying loose paper into the air and rolling pens and pencils across the table.
"For goodness' sake, can't you learn to control yourself, Tancred Torsson?" Dorcas grumbled as she bent to retrieve a book.
Before Tancred could reply, Dagbert cried, "A storm boy! Good to meet you. I'm Dagbert Endless." He walked over to the two older boys and shook their hands. "And you must be Lysander Sage, the spirit-caller."
Lysander, who had African ancestors, gave Dagbert a cool smile.
Dagbert ignored the last three children to arrive. Avoiding Charlie, Emma took a seat close to Tancred, and Gabriel sat on his other side. Only Billy chose to sit beside Charlie. For this he received one of the new boy's chilly stares.
There should have been a twelfth member of the group, but Asa Pike had not been seen for several weeks. Charlie found that he missed the weedy sixth
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year with his wispy red hair and the wolfish yellow eyes that gave away his terrible endowment.
Lysander was now the oldest member of the endowed, and so he had been put in charge of the homework room. He had inherited a natural air of authority from his father, the famous Judge Sage. Joshua, Dorcas, and the twins might try to test Lysander's position, but they were a little in awe of the tall spirit-caller and, so far, no one had openly defied him.
"Where's our number twelve?" asked Dagbert. "I was told there is a wolf boy."
"Was," said Lysander quietly. "He's no longer with us. Get on with your work now."
Dagbert meekly opened one of his books and began to read.
Charlie couldn't concentrate. He gazed up at the Red King's portrait and then at the clock on the wall. When Manfred had presided over the King's room, he would command Charlie to look away from the painting and concentrate on his homework.