by D D Everest
Agatha put the compass in a wooden box, wrapped it with blue tissue paper and handed it to Archie. She was watching him intently.
‘What’s that around your neck?’ she said.
Archie put his hand to his chest. His shirt had come unbuttoned so that the Emerald Eye, his magical pendant, was visible on its silver chain, and the stallholder was staring at it.
‘That’s John Dee’s scrying crystal!’ she said. ‘I’ve seen pictures of it. I’m right, aren’t I? Dee was the greatest scryer England had seen in centuries. Some of his scrying instruments are in the British Museum.’ She shook her head. ‘Wasted there, of course! But the Emerald Eye, that’s a bit special, that is.’
Her sharp little eyes regarded him suspiciously. ‘How did you come by it?’
‘It was a present,’ Archie mumbled. John Dee’s ghost had warned him when he gave him the pendant that it was powerful – so powerful that others desired it. Greaders found it irresistible.
The way Agatha was peering at the green gemstone was making him nervous. Was she a Greader?
‘You don’t see many pieces of that quality,’ she said, licking her lips. ‘How much do you want for it?’
‘It’s not for sale,’ said Archie.
‘Well, can I just hold it for a moment?’ asked Agatha, reaching out a claw-like hand with long, dark fingernails. Now she was really worrying him.
‘No,’ he said, taking a step back and quickly rebuttoning his shirt. Agatha’s beady eyes followed his movements. He thought he saw her hand twitch.
‘Please yourself,’ she said. ‘But if you change your mind, you can find me at my shop in Oxford market. Just ask for Agatha!’
So she wasn’t a Greader after all. If she had been, she would have tried to take the pendant. Feeling relieved, Archie and Bramble moved away.
*
‘There he is,’ cried Archie, a little while later, spotting Thistle.
‘About time!’ groaned Bramble. ‘We’ve been looking all over.’
‘We got you a present,’ said Archie.
‘Happy birthday, little brother,’ said Bramble, handing him the neatly wrapped gift.
Thistle tore open the tissue paper and opened the box. ‘It’s brilliant!’ he said, when they explained what it was. ‘I can’t wait to try it out. Look, the needle’s spinning.’
‘It must be all the magic at the fayre,’ said Archie.
The three cousins strolled into the big top. The first person they saw was Old Zeb. He was in conversation with Orpheus Gloom. When he saw Archie, the old man beckoned him over.
‘We were just talking about you,’ he said. ‘Orpheus has a special interest in magical talents.’
‘Wonderful to meet you at last, Archie,’ said Gloom, shaking his hand warmly. ‘It’s not every day that I meet a book whisperer!’
Archie smiled awkwardly. So Gloom knew about his unusual ability. Archie wondered what else he knew.
‘The Royal Society of Magic is very interested to learn more about the nature of magical talent,’ continued Gloom. ‘We know it runs in families, for example. And your case is particularly interesting …’
‘Yes, well, don’t alarm the boy,’ said Old Zeb. ‘Have you tried the musical muffins, Orpheus?’ he added, changing the subject. ‘They’re very good. I had one earlier that played the Hokey Cokey!’
The children moved on.
‘What did Gloom mean by that?’ Archie asked, as they walked away from the big top.
‘Do you think Old Zeb told him about the firemarks?’ said Thistle.
Archie hesitated. ‘No, he told us to keep it a secret. But I suppose the elders might have told him.’
Thistle stopped by the WE SCRY HARDER sign they’d seen earlier.
‘I’ve still got some money left,’ said Thistle. ‘Let’s give the Siren Sisters a go.’
He darted past the sign and into the interior of the tent. Archie and Bramble trailed after him. Archie wasn’t at all sure he wanted his future read, especially after receiving the alchemists’ firemark. The ghost of John Dee had told him it was dangerous to look too far into the future.
‘I’m not sure about this,’ he mumbled to Bramble, as they ducked under the canvas awning.
‘I know what you mean,’ agreed Bramble. ‘Fortune tellers are a bit odd. Especially these two!’
*
Sitting inside the tent they could see the two women who had been behind them in Quill’s. Archie now noticed just how odd they were. They were of indeterminate age, somewhere between thirty and sixty – it was hard to be any more precise. The first one had jade green eyes and flaming red hair that spilled down her back like volcanic lava. She wore a long green cloak, with knee-length brown boots.
The other woman had glossy black hair and wore a black leather coat. She was staring blankly straight ahead. He could see now that she was blind. In one hand she held her white stick and with the other she clasped her sister’s arm. Around her wrist she wore a bracelet with a wolf on it.
Despite their differences, there was a family resemblance. The two women were talking to Katerina Krone.
‘We’ve traced our family tree all the way back to the Great Library of Alexandria and beyond,’ the redhead was explaining. ‘The Nightshades are a very old magical family.’
‘How fascinating,’ said Katerina.
‘And what about you, my dear?’ said the dark-haired sister, sniffing. ‘Krone is one of the old family names, too.’
‘Actually, I’m adopted,’ said Katerina. ‘My parents died when I was very young.’
‘How terrible for you. Do you know your original family?’
Katerina opened her mouth to speak, but the redhead, Delphinium, cut her off.
‘Later,’ she said, her eyes flashing. ‘We have other visitors. A brother and sister, and their cousin. They want to know what the future holds for them.’
Hemlock smiled. ‘Very well.’
‘We’ve got money,’ Thistle blurted out, holding out a coin.
‘Excellent,’ purred the redhead, taking the coin from his hand and dropping it onto a silver tray. ‘I am Delphinium. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Thistle Foxe – you should be wary of your curiosity. It will lead you into trouble.’
Hemlock sniffed deeply. ‘And you, Bramble, must remember that you are stronger when you stand together than when you stand apart.’
Her nose twitched a second time and she turned her head towards Archie. She pulled a face that suggested she’d caught a whiff of something unpleasant.
At that same moment, Delphinium’s head sagged forward like she was in a swoon.
‘What is this? Who are you?’ Hemlock cried, turning towards Archie.
‘I’m Archie,’ he replied, falteringly. ‘Archie Greene.’
‘I cannot read you. Your future is hidden from me. Two paths are set before you, but which will you take?’
Delphinium’s head suddenly jerked back and she began to yell, ‘THE BOY HAS THE FORKS ON HIM! ARCHIE GREENE HAS THE FORKS ON HIM!’
Archie stared at her. He felt queasy. His mouth had gone dry and his stomach felt like the bottom had dropped out of it. Delphinium’s shouts were so loud he was sure everyone at the fayre could hear.
‘Quick,’ cried Bramble, ‘let’s get out of here.’ She grabbed Archie and Thistle, and they fled from the tent, pushing past Katerina who was standing at the entrance and had overheard the conversation. Delphinium was still yelling after Archie. It sounded like something about a raven and a warning but Archie didn’t catch it all. Outside a crowd was gathering to see what all the shouting was about. People were pointing as the three children pushed their way through. Archie could hear voices whispering.
‘That’s him. That boy is the one she means.’
Archie could feel his cheeks burning. A clearing had suddenly opened around him as people scattered. A mother scooped up her child and pulled her close.
In Archie’s haste, he ran headlong into someone. Aurelius Rusp.
‘Watc
h where you’re going!’
‘Sorry, Dr Rusp,’ Archie apologised. ‘But I’m in a hurry.’
Rusp scowled at him. ‘I can see that. But it won’t do you any good, boy. You can run, but if you’ve got the forks on you, then you cannot hide.’
Rusp saw the confusion on Archie’s face. ‘It means you’ve got a forked fate,’ he added.
*
Archie brooded over what Rusp had said all the way home from the fayre.
He made a mental note to look up forked fate first thing on Monday morning when he got to the workshop.
‘You’re very quiet, Arch,’ said Thistle later, when they were settling down to sleep in the bedroom they shared. ‘Are you worrying about what the Siren Sisters said?’
‘You saw how people reacted,’ said Archie hotly. ‘They couldn’t get away from me fast enough. It’s as if they think bad luck is catching!’
Thistle propped up his chin on his hand. ‘I wouldn’t take too much notice of Hemlock and Delphinium,’ he said. ‘The Nightshade family has always been a bit weird. They’re known for their batty predictions. Some people think they’re descended from Hecate – the witch who wrote The Grim Grimoire. Load of old nonsense, if you ask me.’
The Grim Grimoire was one of the Terrible Tomes, the seven most dangerous magical books ever written. Five of the seven were locked in the crypt inside the museum. The Grim Grimoire was one of the two still at large.
Archie didn’t feel at all sleepy. His mind was still turning over the events of the last few days. A lot seemed to have happened in a short space of time. He couldn’t help feeling it was all connected in some way.
‘I wonder what Graves is going to say on Monday about the firemarks,’ he said aloud. ‘Thistle? Thistle?’
But there was no reply. Thistle was already asleep.
4
The Hole in the Wall
On Monday morning, Archie walked into Oxford early. He and Thistle were to report to the elders at nine and had arranged to meet in Quill’s so they could go together. But he wanted to look up a couple of things first.
The bookshop wasn’t open yet, so he let himself in with his key. When he got to the mending workshop, he went straight to the shelf of reference books. He took down the first book Old Zeb had ever shown him: A Beginner’s Guide to Magic by Miles Mudberry. In a section called ‘Curses, Hexes and Omens’ he found what he was looking for.
Forked Fate: someone has the forks on them if their destiny hangs in the balance. The outcome is determined by a decision they have to make. A number of those with forked fates turned to dark magic, including the dark warlock Barzak and Hecate the witch.
No wonder people were nervous when they heard he had the forks on him! They must wonder if he was going to become a Greader!
He took another reference book from the shelf, Magic Collectors Past and Present, and looked under H.
Hecate: a darchemist, a writer of dark magic, who wrote a book of diabolical spells called The Grim Grimoire. According to legend, a bolt of lightning killed Hecate as she was trying to complete the final spell, giving rise to its name, the Unfinished Spell.
Archie felt a lump in his throat. Hecate had the forks on her and she had become a darchemist. He wondered whether he would, too. But the book didn’t indicate that just because someone had the forks on them that they would become a darchemist, only that they might. He wondered what decision he had to make. Did he have to choose between dark and light magic? That was easy – he would choose light! But perhaps it wasn’t that simple.
Archie was still digesting this information when he heard Old Zeb come in.
‘Doing some research, eh? Good lad, but I thought you were seeing the elders first thing.’
Archie explained that he was on his way.
The old bookbinder opened the Word Smithy and studied the flame. ‘Well, it looks all right today,’ he muttered. But he had barely finished his sentence when a spark shot out of the Word Smithy and burst into a golden cascade. It was followed by two more.
‘There it goes again!’ cried Old Zeb, shaking his head. ‘I think the elders need to see this for themselves. Nip upstairs and tell Geoffrey. He’ll have to let them know immediately. They can hold the meeting here.’
Archie did as he was told and then returned to the workshop. A little while later there was a knock on the door and Old Zeb opened it. ‘Come in,’ he said. ‘Excuse the mess.’
Graves, Hawke and Brown, the three heads of department, filed into the workshop. Wolfus Bone, the magic diviner, was just behind them and had Thistle with him. Bone glanced at the Word Smithy. ‘Geoffrey said that the flame had been behaving oddly again?’
‘Quite right,’ said the old man. The door to the ancient furnace was still open. They all peered in. The flame was burning normally.
‘Yes, well, it seems to be all right now,’ said Old Zeb. ‘But there’s the business of the firemarks.’
‘Yes,’ said Graves. ‘The firemarks. That’s what I wanted to talk to the boys about.’
She waved Archie and Thistle towards the stools at the workbench. They sat down and focused their attention on Graves, who remained standing.
‘The Golden Circle firemark has a special meaning,’ she said, glancing at Hawke before continuing. ‘It denotes the ability to write magic.’
Archie started. No one at the museum had been able to write magic for centuries.
‘We’ve been waiting a very long time for it to appear – three hundred and fifty years, to be precise,’ continued Graves. ‘Frankly, we had imagined that when it did, it would be on one of the older and more experienced apprentices. We will do whatever we can to help you, of course, but it won’t be easy. To understand why, you need to know a little of its history.’
She paused for a moment. ‘Two major events have shaped the history of magic. The first was the fire at the Great Library of Alexandria in 48 BC. The second event was the Great Fire of London in 1666, which was caused by a group of young magicians calling themselves the Alchemists’ Club.’
Archie was desperate to know more.
‘Their names were Braxton Foxe, Roderick Trevallen, Felicia Nightshade, Angelica Ripley and Fabian Grey.’
She hesitated, weighing her words carefully. ‘They were the last apprentices to have the Golden Circle firemark.’
Archie and Thistle were sitting in rapt attention now.
‘On the night of 2nd September, 1666, a baker’s shop in Pudding Lane owned by Thomas Farrinor was set alight. The fire raged for three days and burned down half of London. The authorities said that the fire started in the baker’s oven. And that is what the Unready believe to this day. But as you all know that’s not what really happened.
‘The truth is that the Alchemists’ Club used the baker’s cellar for their magical experiments. On that ill-fated night, something went badly wrong, causing the inferno. The authorities thought the people of London would be frightened if they knew that magic was responsible, so they blamed the baker.
‘The king knew the real cause and insisted that it must never happen again. The Royal Society of Magic was founded, and Lores governing the use of magic were brought in. Those Lores are still with us now.’
‘And a very good job, too,’ said Brown. ‘Where would we be without them?’
The doorbell clanging in the bookshop upstairs and the sound of running feet interrupted him. They heard footsteps on the stairs, and the voice of Geoffrey Screech. ‘You can’t go down there!’
‘What on earth is that racket about?’ Graves cried. The footsteps stopped outside the door, and someone knocked loudly.
Graves opened the door. Standing outside were Arabella, Bramble and Rupert.
Arabella had a shocked look on her face and was staring at her hand.
‘We’re in the middle of an important meeting,’ said Graves. ‘Whatever is the matter with you, girl?’
‘This!’ whined Arabella, holding up her hand so that they could all see the Golden Circle on
her palm.
‘Another one,’ said Graves. Her face looked pale. She exchanged looks with Hawke and Bone. ‘That makes three.’
‘Erm, five actually,’ declared Bramble, holding up her own palm to reveal a fourth Golden Circle. ‘Show them, Rupert.’
Graves’ eyes opened so wide that they looked like they might pop out. ‘Not you as well?’ she gasped, shaking her head, as Rupert opened his hand to reveal another Golden Circle.
Hawke’s brow darkened. ‘So, now we have five alchemists’ firemarks, just like the original Alchemists’ Club,’ he said.
The elders seemed unsure what to make of this latest development. They told the five children that they would receive a special apprenticeship that the heads of the magical departments would devise. Until then, they were to go about their usual business, remaining especially vigilant. Under no circumstances were they to discuss the Golden Circle marks with any strangers.
*
Archie and Bramble had decided to take Thistle on a tour of the museum. A line of apprentices had formed in Quill’s.
‘It’s very slow today,’ said Bramble. ‘I wonder what’s up.’
Ahead of them in the queue, they spotted Rupert.
‘What’s the hold-up?’ she asked him.
‘There’s something wrong with the door ray,’ said Rupert.
Pink was standing behind the bar, pulling on the brass lever that controlled the secret entrance. The lever was refusing to budge. Sweat was running down her face, and she looked flustered. Rusp was scowling next to her.
Fortunately, there were no Unready customers in the café. Pink gave the lever one more tug, but it still wouldn’t move. Shaking her head, she gave up and waved the apprentices through. One by one they slipped through the door ray.
Archie, Bramble and Thistle were among the last.
‘What’s up?’ Bramble asked Pink.
‘I knew it was a bad idea to open the door ray to people without firemarks,’ grumbled Pink. ‘Now it’s jammed.’
She glanced at the lever.
‘And if that wasn’t bad enough, there’s something wrong with the permission wall,’ she said. ‘It’s been on the blink ever since the fayre. And all at a time when we’re supposed to be on high alert for Greader attacks.’