Charlie Bone and the Shadow

Charlie Bone and the Shadow

(The Children of the Red King, Book 7)Jenny Nimmo

The enchanter Count Harken is back to take his revenge on the Red King's heirs, starting with Charlie Bone's family!

Charlie's ancestor has been kidnapped and imprisoned in the dark, forbidding land of Badlock, and it's up to Charlie to save him.

Traveling through a painting to the terrifying countryside, Charlie and his best friend's dog, Runner Bean, take up the quest.

But when Runner Bean gets trapped, Charlie needs the help of his friends.

Can they get past an army of trolls, rescue Runner Bean and Charlie's ancestor, and get out before it's too late?

Can Charlie outwit Court Harken and his sinister troops, or will the prisoners be doomed to being held captive in Badlock forever?

Prologue

THE CHILDREN OF THE RED KING, CALLED THE ENDOWED

THE ENDOWED ARE ALL DESCENDED FROM THE TEN CHILDREN OF THE

RED KING.

manfred bloorTeaching assistant at Bloor's Academy. A hypnotist. He is descended from Borlath, elder son of the Red King. Borlath was a brutal and sadistic tyrant.

naren bloorAdopted daughter of Bartholomew

Bloor. Naren can send shadow words over great distances. She is descended from the Red King's grandson who was abducted by pirates and taken to China.

Charlie boneCharlie can travel into photographs and

pictures. Through his father, he is descended from the Red King and through his mother, from Mathonwy, a Welsh magician and friend of the Red King.

Idith and Inez Telekinetic twins, distantly related to Zelda

INEZ BRANKO

Dobinski, who has left Bloor's Academy.

XIVxvdagbert endlessDagbert is the son of Lord Grimwald, who can control the oceans.

His mother took the gold from drowned men's teeth and made them into charms to protect her son. Dagbert is a drowner.

dorcas loomAn endowed girl whose gift is the ability

to bewitch clothes.

una onimousMr. Onimous's niece. Una is five years

old and her endowment is being kept secret until it has fully developed.

asa pikeA were-beast. He is descended from a

tribe who lived in the northern forests and kept strange beasts. Asa can change shape at dusk.

billy ravenBilly can communicate with animals.

One of his ancestors conversed with ravens that sat on a gallows where dead men hung.

For this talent he was banished from his village.

lysander sageDescended from an African wise man,

Lysander can call up his spirit ancestors.

Gabriel silkGabriel can feel scenes and emotions

XVxvithrough the clothes of others. He comes from a line of psychics.

joshua tilpinJoshua has magnetism. He is descended

from Lilith, the Red King's oldest daughter, and Harken, the evil enchanter who married her.

emma tollyEmma can fly. Her surname derives

from the Spanish swordsman from Toledo whose daughter married the Red King. The swordsman is therefore an ancestor of all the endowed children.

tancred torssonA storm-bringer. His Scandinavian ancestor was named after the thunder god, Thor. Tancred can bring wind, thunder, and lightning.

Olivia vertigoDescended from Guanhamara, who fled the Red King's castle and married an Italian prince. Olivia is an illusionist. The Bloors are unaware of her endowment.

XVIxviiPROLOGUE

The winds of Badlock were the crudest in the world; they came from every quarter, screaming against the giant's broad back, tearing his hair, and lashing his eyes so that he

could barely open them. At every step, great gusts swept around his long legs until at length he was forced onto his knees.

Behind the giant lay a vast plain of wind-torn scrub and ever-shifting stones. It had taken him and his child a night and a day to cover this inhospitable terrain. They had come from the range of snowcapped mountains that surrounded the plain like a massive wall.

The giant drew his cloak tight around the boy in his arms. They had been making for a little hollow, where a shelter of trees could be seen, and the gleam of water.xviii"Forgive me, Roland," moaned the giant. "I can go no farther."

"You are tired, Father," said the boy, twisting out of the giant's arms. "If I walk, you can move more easily."

The giant marveled at his little son's spirit. If must come from the boy's mother, he thought. It shamed him to see Roland still so unafraid after their long ordeal. Gathering his strength, the giant got to his feet again and battled forward, while his son staggered bravely at his side.

"Look!" Roland suddenly sang out. "I see a light in the hollow."

"The moon," murmured his father.

"No, Father. A flame."

The giant brushed a hand across his eyes and blinked. Yes, there was indeed a light flickering at the edge of the hollow. But how could he tell if it meant danger? They were unlikely to find help in such a godforsaken place.

All at once, Roland suddenly sprinted ahead.xixHe had always been inclined to rush headlong into things that excited his curiosity.

"Wait!" called the giant.

But Roland, his arms wide as if embracing the wind, forged through the swirling gusts, whirled away toward the trees, and disappeared from view.

When the giant arrived at the hollow, he found his son talking earnestly to a boy of around ten years with startling snow-white hair. The stranger raised his rush light, the better to see the form that stood at the lip of the hollow, and the giant noted his large violet-colored eyes. A goblin, thought the giant. What fairy tricks has he come to play on us?

"Roland, come here," the giant commanded, stepping closer to the pair.

All of a sudden, as if from nowhere, another figure moved into the circle of light: a tall young man with raven hair and a cloak made of some dark, shiny material.xx"Don't be afraid," said the dark young man. "White-haired Owain is no fairy. He has sought you for many months."

"Me?" The giant's eyes narrowed.

"You are Otus Yewbeam?" asked the boy.

"That is my name."

The boy bent into a deep bow. "I am so happy to find you, sir. No one could tell me where you had gone. It was an old woman in your village who, nearing the end of her life, overcame her fear of punishment and told me that you and your son had been taken prisoner by a knight clad all in green."

"Count Harken." The giant gave a snort of loathing.

"But you have escaped," said the dark youth.

"We would have rescued you," said Owain, "however fiercely you had been guarded."

Roland, who had been leaping up and down with excitement, could contain his news no longer and burst out, "Owain is my cousin, Father, and he" - hexxipointed to the dark young man - "he is my uncle Tolemeo."

The giant frowned. "Can this be true?"

Tolemeo said, "Let us go farther into this hollow where we can speak more easily." For they had been shouting in sentences devoid of warmth or feeling, as the wind snatched their words and scattered them into the air.

Tolemeo led the way, followed by Owain, whose flaring torch caused Tolemeo's cloak to sparkle with ever-changing colors, from vivid blue to green to the deepest purple.

He is wearing feathers, thought the giant, and a small thread of unease ran through him.

Yet I must notexpect them to be ordinary, for they are the Red King's children and my own dear wife, Amoret, was a child of the magician-king.

They reached a cluster of rocks at the bottom of the hollow and, easing himself onto a wide slab, the giant asked, "Have you news of my wife?"

XXIxxiiHe did not get an immediate answer. Owain looked at the ground. The white-haired boy seemed, all at once, nervous and uncertain.

"Forgive me, sir," said Tolemeo, "but you are not my idea of a giant."

"No," said Owain, with an edgy laugh. "I always imagined a giant's head to be swallowed by the clouds."

Otus smiled indulgently. "I am not a true giant, though I come from a race of giants. My father stood two fathoms high. I am only two-thirds his height. My brothers are even smaller. Perhaps our descendants will be a more manageable size." He glanced at Roland and then said urgently, "But please, have you news of my wife?"

Tolemeo lowered his gaze. His slight, uncomfortable shrug caused the giant's heart to miss a beat.

"Tell me, please," cried Otus. "Even if it is the worst a man can expect."xxiii"Your wife went to her brother Amadis Tolemeo began.

"Yes, yes," broke in the giant. "We heard that Count Harken was on his way. I thought she would be safe with Amadis. She had a mirror, made by her father, the king, and she used it - for traveling." Otus looked into the faces that stared up at him. They didn't seem surprised. "You know of the mirror?"

"We do," Tolemeo affirmed. "And we know that it is what Harken craves."

The giant's mouth twisted in a bitter smile. "Count Harken maybe an enchanter, but he craves everything the king, your father, ever made or owned. Harken and his army of trolls and thugs surrounded our house. Amoret tried to take our baby with her. She thought the mirror would transport them both, but somehow, it would not work for Roland. He fell into my arms just as his mother vanished. Minutes later, Harken had broken into the house and captured us.xxivThey brought us here to Badlock and for two years we have been imprisoned in one of his many towers. Three days ago I kicked the wretched troll who brought our food, and while he was still reeling from the pain of my boot, clever Roland pushed him into a closet and locked the door."

"And then I undid my father's shackles," said Roland. "They didn't know I had grown so strong, or they would have chained me to the wall, like my poor father."

The giant lifted his son into his arms. "We have been traveling ever since, but with these accursed winds it is hard to make progress. If we can reach the coast and get a boat, we'll

find my wife no matter what. I've heard her brother Amadis has a fine castle, on an island in the western sea."

The silence that greeted this remark was so profound it seemed like a dark chasm where the ^giant's mind refused to go.

"Tell me," he whispered.xxv"Your wife is dead," said Tolemeo steadily. "Owain will tell you the rest, for he was there."

Roland buried his head in his father's neck, his shoulders heaving with quiet sobs. I have known this allalong,thought Otus.How could I have hoped to avoid thetruth? "Tell me,"

he said.

Owain slipped off his rocky perch and passed the torch to Tolemeo. Then, clasping his hands together, he looked into the giant's face and began. "It was my own uncle, your wife's older brother Borlath. You must know that he is one of Harken's allies. He found my father's island and the castle he had built. The loveliest castle in all the world, they said. Borlath wanted it. He brought an army of mercenaries and tried to starve us out, but my father, who could speak with animals, called to the wolves, the bats, the birds, and the rats. The rats were especially useful; they ate all Borlath's supplies. When winter came, the mercenaries grew sullen, they wanted to leave, and that's whenxxviBorlath used his awful power. I saw it myself from the battlements; fire came from his hands, flames from every finger." Owain held up his hands, his fingers spread wide. "In a second, a ring of fire had encircled us. My father lifted me down. "Run, Owain,"he cried. "Run to the well as fast as you can, and don't come out until I tell you." So I ran. And as I went, I looked up, and a bright mirror came flying over my head, and I caught it, and far, far away I heard Amoret call out, "Give the mirror to my son." And I went down the well, and my raven came with me. He was my friend, you see, and I speak his language.

"From the depths of the well we listened, Raven and I. We listened to screams, to roaring flames, to beams tearing and crashing, to moans and cries and boulders falling. And I smelled fire, and worse than fire." Owain lifted his glistening eyes to the sky and his chest rose and fell, as though he were fighting for breath. Tolemeo put a hand on his shoulder, and the boy continued, "And then it was quiet, very quiet,xxviiand I knew my father could never tell me to come out; I knew I would never hear his voice again. So I came out anyway. And they were all dead. Everyone ..."

The giant's mouth had fallen open, but his cry was silent. Roland turned his head to stare at Owain. Horror had dried up his tears.

Owain said gently, "When I came out, it was snowing, and the castle walls were as shiny as glass, so shiny I could see my face in them."

"It was the work of a magician," said Tolemeo, "my father's friend Mathonwy. He sent a cloud of snow to smother the flames. But his help came too late to save Amadis and Amoret. I was in Toledo, my mother's city, when it happened."

Owain clasped Tolemeo's hand. "I sent my raven to find him, and since the day Tolemeo arrived, we have been searching for you." He put his hand into his jerkin and drew out a mirror set in a jeweled frame. The glass was so brilliant, it was as if the sun had touched their faces.xxviiiThe giant gasped and turned his head away. "Amoret," he murmured.

Tolemeo took the mirror from Owain and thrust it into the giant's hands. "Take the mirror, Otus Yewbeam," he said sternly. "You have lost your wife, but you still have your son."

The giant was about to reply when Tolemeo suddenly spun on his heel, his nostrils flaring, his eyes wide and alert. "They are upon us," he cried.

"I heard nothing," said the giant.

"Nevertheless" - Tolemeo lifted Roland onto his shoulders - "we have but a moment." He began to stride around the lake. "Otus, make haste. They approach."

The giant stood, clutching the mirror to his chest. He looked up to the rim of the hollow, and there they were - a long line of shadows weaving through the trees. A deep, nasal roar filled the ; giant's ears as Harken's army began to run down the steep bank. Their tiny eyes and scribble mouths were all but hidden in the fleshy spread of their huge noses.xxixThey wore scaly breastplates of dull metal and tall, ridiculous helmets that disguised their lumpy heads. Their weapons were cudgels, spears, and deadly slingshots, and behind them came a group of hideous beings that were neither troll nor human.

The giant began to run, his long legs easily clearing the rocks at the lake's edge. Ahead of him, he could see Roland's small face gazing back from Tolemeo's shoulders. "Run, Father, run," called the little boy.

The trolls' bellowing filled the hollow. Rocks and spears began to rain down from every side, and now the giant could see that they were surrounded.

"The count is angry," a thick, rasping voice announced. "He punished me for your escape, Otus Yewbeam. And now I shall punish you."

The giant recognized Oddthumb, leader of Harken's guards. He was bigger than the others, and his face was a corpselike gray, but what stood out most was the thumb of his right hand - a huge, gnarled, stumpy thing, wider than his palm.xxxOtus ducked as a rock came winging from Oddthumb's slingshot.

"The mirror, Father," cried Roland. "Use the mirror. I do not need it."

Tolemeo stopped and called back, "It's the truth, Otus. Give them the mirror. It will slow them down. I will save your son, but you will have to fend for yourself."

"Save Roland," cried the giant, and he threw the mirror high into the air. Every troll face was raised in fear and astonishment as the shining circle spun to earth, its radiance piercing their weak eyes and momentarily blinding them.

A howl of pain and fury went up. The mirror dropped at Oddthumb's feet. He felt its weight but couldn't see it.

"Farewell, Otus!" called Tolemeo.

The giant turned.

Tolemeo was rising from the ground with Roland

and Owain clasped in his arms. Higher and higher.

Now they were over the lake, and the feathered

XXXxxxicloak billowed around them, while the dark water shimmered in the breeze.

When they were higher than the trees that rimmed the hollow, two great wings spread behind Tolemeo. He swung in the air and lay like a swimmer, while the wings beat gracefully above him. He might have been a great bird soaring through the starlit sky, if you chose not to see the two small figures clasped to his chest.

A joyous smile lit Otus Yewbeam's face, and in the long, solitary years that were to follow, the smile would return every time the giant remembered that moment.

The trolls recovered their sight. They ran down to the lake, swinging their cudgels, grunting and swearing. The giant knew it would be useless to run. He saw that Oddthumb

had picked up the mirror. The shadow would have what he wanted, at last.xxxiiXXXII1CHAPTER 1

THE PACKAGE IN THE CELLAR

Pretty cats!"

In the hall of number nine Filbert Street, a small boy stood at the foot of the staircase. He looked sickly and too thin. Scraping a tangle of dull brown hair away from his face, he stuck out his tongue. "Flames! That's what they call you, isn't it?"

The three cats, sitting on the rail, stared down from the landing above. They had fiery colored coats: copper, orange, and yellow. The orange cat hissed; the yellow cat lifted a paw and flexed his dangerous claws; the copper cat gave a deep, threatening growl.

"Why don't you like me? I'm smarter than you. One day" - the boy raised his fist - "you'll be sorry."

A door opened behind him and a voice called, "Eric, what are you doing?"

"Come and look."2Two women stepped into the hall. They would have been identical if there had not been twenty years separating them. Both were tall and dark-eyed with thin, chilly mouths and long, narrow noses. But whereas one had bone-white hair, the other's was as black as a crow's wing.

"Look!" Eric pointed up at the three cats.

The older woman uttered a throaty snarl. "What are they doing here? I've forbidden them.

Expressly."

The younger woman, Eric's stepmother, grabbed his hand and dragged him back. "I've told you never to approach those creatures."

"I didn't," said Eric. "I'm down here and they're up there. And anyway, they can't hurt me."

"Of course they can," his stepmother retorted. "They're wild creatures."

"With leopards' hearts," her sister added. Raising her voice, she called, "Charlie! Charlie Bone, come here, this minute."

A door opened upstairs and a moment later a boy with tousled hair leaned over the railing. The3yellow cat walked up to him and rubbed its head against his arm. The other cats jumped down and circled his legs.

"What is it, Grandma?" Charlie stroked the yellow cat's head and yawned.

"Lazy lump!" said his grandmother. "Have you been asleep?"

"No," Charlie replied indignantly. "I've been doing my homework."

"Did you let those cats in?"

"They're not doing any harm," said Charlie.

"Harm?" Grandma Bone's dark eyes became angry slits. "They're the most harmful creatures in this city. Get them out."

"Sorry, Sagittarius." Charlie lifted the yellow cat off the banister. "Sorry, Aries and Leo,"

he said to the cats winding themselves around his legs. "Grandma Bone says you've got to go."

Whether it was Charlie's tone of voice or his actual words was not clear, but the cats appeared to know exactly what he was saying. They followed4him into his bedroom, and when he had opened his window, jumped through it, one by one, onto the branch of a chestnut tree that stretched close to the sill.

"See you at the Pets' Cafe," Charlie called as the Flames leaped onto the sidewalk. They bounded up the street with a chorus of meows that made a dog on the other side of the street stop dead in its tracks.

Charlie smiled and closed the window. Returning to the landing, he found his grandmother, his great-aunt Venetia, and Eric still staring up at him.

"Have they gone?" Grandma Bone demanded.

"Yes, Grandma," Charlie said wearily.

At this point, a third woman emerged from the sitting room. With her sharp features and abundant gray hair, she was clearly related to the other two women. She was, in fact, Charlie's great-aunt , Eustacia. She was carrying a flat, rectangular object covered in brown paper. It was about four feet wide and maybe three feet deep.5Charlie knew there was no point in asking about the package. He would be told to mind his own business.

But he had a fairly good idea what it was. He began to feel unaccountably excited.

"What are you staring at?" Great-aunt Eustacia grunted at Charlie.

"Get back to your homework," ordered Grandma Bone.

Eric's thin little mouth twisted into an unpleasant smirk. "Good-bye, Charlie Bone!"

Charlie didn't bother to reply. He went back to his room and closed the door with a loud click. But then, as quietly as possible, he opened it again, just a fraction. He wanted to know what was going to happen to the object Eustacia was carrying. Surely, it had to be a painting.

It was two years since Charlie had discovered his extraordinary endowment. It had begun when he heard voices coming from a photograph. Over the next few months Charlie found himself traveling into photographs and talking to people who6had died many years before. When he had turned his attention to paintings, the same thing had happened; he could meet the subjects in old paintings, people who had lived centuries before. Charlie often tried to avoid these situations; it was one thing to go into the past, quite another to leave it. Once or twice he'd been lucky to get out alive.

For some reason the rectangular object with its covering of wrinkled brown paper aroused Charlie's intense curiosity. He put his ear to the crack in the door and listened.

"Why you've brought it here, I can't imagine." Grandma's voice cackled with irritation.

"I told you," whined Great-aunt Eustacia, "my basement's damp."

"Hang it on your wall, then."

"I don't like it."

"Then give it to..."

"Don't look at me," said Great-aunt Venetia. "It gives me the creeps."7"She made me take it," Eustacia said fretfully. "Mrs. Tilpin isn't someone you can argue with."

Charlie stiffened. He hadn't heard Mrs. Tilpin's name mentioned for some time. Once, she had been a rather pretty music teacher named Miss Chrystal, but she hadn't been seen since she'd been revealed as a witch.

"They won't keep it at the school," went on Eustacia. "Even Ezekiel is wary of it. He says it steals his thoughts, it draws them away like a magnet - he says."

"Joshua Tilpin is a magnet," said Eric.

His stepmother uttered a short, dry laugh. "Ha! The witch's son. So he is."

At this, everyone began to talk at once, and Charlie had difficulty in making out what was said, but it seemed that Grandma Bone had finally agreed to allow the painting, or whatever it was, to be stored in her cellar. Strictly speaking, it wasn't her cellar, because

she shared the house with her brother, Paton. Charlie and his other grandmother, Maisie,8had been permitted to live there until Charlie's parents returned from their second honeymoon and their house, Diamond Corner, had been restored.

There began a succession of bangs and scrapings and irritated exclamations as the painting was presumably carried down into the cellar. Finally, the cellar door was shut, and after more discussions, thuds, and clicks, Grandma Bone, her two sisters, and Eric left the house.

Charlie waited in his room until he heard everyone bundle into Great-aunt Eustacia's car.

Then, with much misfiring and a painful grinding of gears, the old Ford lurched down the street.

After another five minutes had passed, Charlie slipped out of his room and ran downstairs. When he reached the cellar he found that the door had been locked. Luckily, Charlie knew where all the keys were kept. He went into the kitchen and pulled a chair up to the cabinet. Standing on tiptoe he reached 'for a large blue jug patterned with golden fish.9"And what might you be up to?" said a voice.

Charlie hesitated. The chair wobbled. Charlie uttered a shaky yelp and steadied himself.

He hadn't noticed Grandma Maisie, folding the wash in a corner.

"Maisie, are you spying on me?" asked Charlie.

Maisie straightened up. "I've got better things to do, young man."

Charlie's other grandmother was the very opposite of Grandma Bone. Maisie wasn't much taller than Charlie and battled hard to keep her weight down. Being the family cook didn't make this easy.

"Now, I wonder why you were trying to get those keys?" Maisie's face was too round and cheerful to look stern. Even frowning was an effort. "Don't deny it. There's nothing else up there that would interest you."

"I think Great-aunt Eustacia has put a painting in the cellar."

"What if she has?"10"I... well, I just wanted to... you know, have a look at it." Charlie clutched the fish jug and drew out a large rusty-looking key.

Maisie shook her head. "Not a good idea, Charlie."

"Why?" Charlie replaced the jug and jumped down from the chair.

"You know them," said Maisie, with meaning. "Those Yewbeam sisters are always trying to trick you. D'you think they didn't know you'd be just itching to take a look at...

whatever it is?"

"They didn't know I was listening, Maisie."

"Ha!" Maisie grunted. "Of course they did."

Charlie twiddled the key between his fingers. "I just want to take a look at the outside of it, the shape of it. I won't take the paper off."

"Oh no? Look, Charlie, your parents are watching whales on the other side of the world.

If something happens to you, how am I going to... ?"

"Nothing will happen to me." Before Maisie could say another word, Charlie walked briskly out of the11kitchen and along the hallway to the cellar. The key turned in the lock with surprising ease. But as soon as the door opened, Charlie knew that there was really no doubt - something would happen to him. He could feel it already: a light, insistent tug, drawing him closer, down a set of creaking wooden steps. Down, down, down, until he stood in the chilly gloom of the cellar.

The package was propped against the wall, between an old mattress and a set of rusty curtain rods. Charlie couldn't be certain, but he thought he could hear a faint sound coming from beneath the crumpled wrapping paper.

"Impossible!" Charlie clutched his hair. This had never happened before. He had to see a face before he heard its voice. But this sound was coming from something out of sight.

As he stepped toward the package, a deep whine whistled past his ears.

"Wind?" Charlie reached out a hand.

At his touch the paper rustled and creaked. The whole package seemed suddenly alive and Charlie12hesitated. But a second of doubt was immediately overcome by his burning curiosity, and he began to tear at the wrapping. Strips of paper flew into the air, from Charlie's frantic fingers and the unnatural wind that blew from who knew where.

The painting didn't even wait to be entirely revealed. Long before every corner was free of the paper, a dreadful landscape began to seep into the dim cellar. This was not how it should happen. Charlie was mystified. He waited for the familiar tumbling sensation that usually overwhelmed him when he traveled into paintings. It never came. He watched in astonishment as the brick walls of the cellar were swallowed by a vista of distant mountains. Tall, dark towers appeared in the foreground; one swam so close to Charlie that he could smell the damp moss that patched the walls. Ugly scaled creatures scurried over the surface, pausing briefly to stare at Charlie with dangerous glinting eyes.

"It has to be an illusion," Charlie told himself.13He put out his hand - and touched the horny spine of a black toadlike thing.

"Ugh!" Leaping away from it, he tripped and fell on his back. Beneath him he could feel rough cobblestones, slippery with gray-black weeds. Above him purple clouds rushed through an ash-colored sky, and all about him the wind roared and rattled, howled and sighed.

"So I'm there already." Charlie got to his feet and rubbed his back. "Wherever there is."

In brief intervals when the wind died to a low whine, Charlie could hear the tramp of heavy feet and a low muttering of voices. "It's here," one said. "I can smell it."

"It's mine." This voice glopped like a sink full of dishes. "I know how to catch it."

"Oddthumb knows," came a chorus of low, tuneless voices.

Charlie backed around the tower as the marching feet drew closer. There appeared to be no windows14in the building, and Charlie was just beginning to think that it was without a door when he was suddenly seized around the waist and lifted high in the air. A huge fist closed over his mouth, and a voice close to his ear whispered, "Boy, your life depends on your silence."

Shocked and speechless, Charlie was swung backward through an open door and set down. He found himself on the lowest step of a stone staircase that spiraled upward before disappearing into the shadows.

"Climb," whispered the voice. "As fast as your feet will take you."

Charlie mounted the stone steps, his heart beating wildly. Up, up and up, never stopping until he had reached a door at the very top. Charlie pushed it open and went into the room beyond. A narrow window high in the wall shed a dismal light onto the sparse furnishings below: the longest bed Charlie had ever seen, the highest table and the tallest chair, and...

could that be a boat, hanging on15the wall? He turned quickly as the owner of the room ducked under the lintel and walked in, closing the door and locking it.

Charlie saw a giant, or the nearest thing to a giant he had ever seen. The man's white hair was coiled into a knob at the back of his head, and a fine, snowy beard reached a neat point just above his waist. He wore a coarse shirt, a leather vest, and brown woolen trousers tied at the ankle with a cord.

The giant held a finger to his lips and then, raising his arm, pushed open a small panel set between the rafters of the roof. Without a word he lifted Charlie up to the dark space revealed. Charlie rolled sideways, and the panel was immediately replaced, leaving him in a dark, stuffy hole with his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms wrapped around his legs.

"They'll not find you. Trust me," whispered the giant, whose head was perhaps only a foot below the rafters.16There was a tiny hole right beside Charlie's ear, and when he turned his head, he could see directly into the room below. He had just positioned himself as comfortably as possible when he heard voices echoing up the stairwell.

"Otus Yewbeam, are you there?"

"Have you seen a boy?"

"Caught him, have you?"

"He's ours."

"Mine," came Oddthumb's husky snarl. "All mine."

A battery of fists and cudgels began to thump against the door.

"Patience, soldiers," called Otus. "I was sleeping." One step took him to the door, which he unlocked, with much sighing and rattling.

A crowd of squat, ugly beings rushed in and surrounded the giant. They wore metal breastplates over their patched leather jerkins, and strapped to their heads were tall helmets like metal top hats. Axes, knives, catapults, and cudgels hung from their belts, though some had bows slung over their backs17and quivers bursting with shiny arrows.

Most came up well below the giant's waist, but there was one, somewhat larger than the others who, for some reason, looked familiar to Charlie. Could this be the same carved stone troll that had once sat outside Great-aunt Venetia's gloomy house?

"Why did you lock the door against us?" this larger being demanded.

"Not against you, Oddthumb," said the giant. "Against durgles."

"Durgles," spat Oddthumb.

"Durgles are very destructive," said Otus. "Many a day they have eaten my bread, while I slept."

"Liar," said Oddthumb. "A durgle can no more unlock a door than a diddychick. You've got him, I know it."

"Who?" Otus inquired in a mild tone.

"The boy," snarled one of the smaller beings. "He's here. The watch see'd him a-coming from far off. Caught, he was, by the count's guile."

"Enchanted," said the being beside him.18"Spell-brought," chorused the others.

There was a loud creak as Otus lowered himself on to his bed. He was now out of Charlie's sight, though he could still see a long leather-bound foot.

"Respected soldiers, I have seen no boy," said Otus. "Search this room, if you must."

"We will," grunted Oddthumb. "Up, giant!"

Otus had barely risen from the bed when Oddthumb and his crew pushed it over. They slashed at the blankets, battered the straw mattress, tore off a cabinet door, turned over a thin rush mat, poked up the chimney, pulled charred wood from the fire, and hacked at

the floorboards. The frenzied attack lasted no more than ten minutes, and from his hiding place, Charlie saw a growing pile of ash and straw, broken pottery, and chunks of bread.

"Squirras!" cried one of the soldiers suddenly.

Charlie couldn't see what he had found. It must have been on the far side of the room.19"Greedy, greedy," said Oddthumb. "Six squirras for your breakfast, Otus?"

"I'm a giant." Otus sighed.

"We'll leave one, the smallest," Oddthumb said spitefully.

"I thank you," said Otus.

A soldier with a warty face came and stood directly under Charlie's spyhole. "No boy, here, General," he said. "In forest, maybe?"

"No boy, eh? No boy." Oddthumb paced across the room. He stopped beside Wart Face and looked up.

Charlie found himself staring into a stony gray eye. He dared not blink. He dared not breathe. His own eye began to ache as he held it wide open and unmoving. Could Oddthumb see him? Did he sense Charlie's presence, lying above? An urge to sneeze overcame Charlie. He pressed his lips together, brought his fingers slowly up to his face, and clamped them over his nose.20"Dreaded creatures up there," whispered Wart Face.

"Blancavamps! Maybe. Let us leave here, General."

"Blancavamps?" Oddthumb stroked his chin with a grotesque thumb, as big as his hand.

Charlie had difficulty in stifling a gasp.

"Have you got blancavamps, Otus?" asked Oddthumb.

"Sadly," said the giant, "they steal my sleep."

Oddthumb threw back his head and gave a hideous burbling chuckle. In a second the room was filled with gurgling laughter as soldiers echoed their general. The dreadful sound stopped abruptly the moment Oddthumb closed his mouth. Without another word the general marched out, followed by his troops.

Charlie listened to the stamp of heavy feet receding down the steps. A door at the foot of the tower clanged shut, and the soldiers began to march down the street. Charlie waited, breathlessly. He dared not move for fear one of the soldiers remained in the21room below. He could hear Otus setting his room to rights after the rough intrusion.

Long after the footsteps had faded, the giant finally came and grinned up at Charlie. "You are safe, boy. Be not afraid. I will get you down."

"Thanks," Charlie said huskily.

The giant pushed back the panel, saying, "Step onto my shoulders." He held up his arms and Charlie thrust his legs through the hole. Otus gently lifted him down and set him on the bed.

Charlie wriggled his aching shoulders and rubbed his arms. "I'm not sure how I got here,"

he said.

The giant pulled his chair up to the bed and sat down. Putting his head to one side, he regarded Charlie quizzically. "Your name?" he asked.

"Charlie Bone, sir."

"You are a traveler?"

"I... yes, I am sometimes. I can travel into photos and paintings." Observing the giant's puzzled frown, Charlie added quickly, "Photos are a bit difficult to explain, but I expect you know what a22painting is." The giant nodded. "Anyhow, this time it was different, my traveling, I mean. This time a painting has... kind of... captured me."

"Mmm." The giant nodded again. "My wife had a mirror that took her a-traveling."

"A mirror?" Charlie said excitedly. "My ancestor Amoret had a mirror. It caused a bit of trouble. Someone wanted it... an enchanter."

"Amoret was my wife!" The giant clutched Charlie's hand in his huge fist. "My name is Otus Yewbeam."

"Then... you're my ancestor, too." Charlie's gaze slid over the giant's long frame, from the crown of his head to the tip of his long foot. "Maybe I'll grow a bit."

The giant smiled. "I was this high when I was a boy." He held his hand about six feet from the ground.

"Oh," said Charlie, a little sadly.

"What is your century?" asked Otus.23"Um... twenty-first," said Charlie after a bit of thought.

"There are nine hundred years between us."

Charlie frowned. "I don't get it. I've never, ever come into the past this way. I was just looking at a painting; I saw mountains and towers, but no people, and then, suddenly, it was all around me."

"He is powerful," Otus said gravely. "He wanted you in Badlock."

"Who?"

"Count, enchanter, shadow; he has many names. He brought me here as a captive, twenty years ago, when my wife fled to her brother's castle." The giant's large eyes clouded for a moment, and he looked up at the fading light in the window. "He wanted Amoret. He wanted all the Red King's children. Five he won easily, they already walked the path of wickedness. The others: Amadis, Amoret, Guanhamara, Petrello, and Tolemeo - they fled the evil. It was Tolemeo who rescued my son, Roland, and for that the24shadow punished me. His soldiers relish torture. Now they let me bide in peace. I am forgotten, almost."

Charlie reminded the giant that today the soldiers had not let him bide in peace. "I've put you in danger," he said. "If they catch me... ?"

"No." The giant leaned forward, earnestly. "They will not catch you." He got up and strode over to a hearth set into a wide chimney breast. "Presently, we shall dine on squirra, boy."

"Oh, good." A note of anxiety crept into Charlie's voice. What is a squirra? he wondered.

The giant opened a small door in the wall and brought out a black, ratlike creature with an extremely long, hairless tail. "Only one." Otus sighed. "But it will suffice."

Charlie's stomach lurched. "If that's a squirra, what's a blancavamp?"

Otus chuckled. "They are what we, in our world, know as bats, but blancavamps are white as snow.25The people of Badlock believe them to be ghosts. But I am not afraid of them."

"Nor me." Charlie darted a quick look in the giant's direction. Otus was already skinning the squ-irra and, hoping it was something he would never need to do, Charlie looked quickly away. "Have you ever tried to get home again?" he asked the giant.

Otus gave a rueful smile. "My wife's brother Tolemeo tried a second time to rescue me, but Oddthumb and his ruffians caught us. Tolemeo was lucky to escape with his life. And knowing my wife had perished, I cared less and less how and where my life should end."

Charlie recalled the fleeting image of a beautiful woman smiling out from a mirrored wall, and a near-impossible plan began to take shape in his mind.

"Badlock is a country no one from our world can find," the giant continued. "No one but clever Tolemeo. It is an awful place. There is the eternal wind,26and then in winter there is a deluge. Water fills the land between the mountains, a fathom deep."

"It IS a boat, then." Charlie nodded at the wooden boat shape hanging on the wall.

"Indeed, a boat. There is no other place to live but in a tower."

"And where does the enchanter live?"

"In a dark fortress, a scar on the mountain. I'll show you." Dropping the meat into an iron pot, Otus wiped his hands on a rag tucked into his belt and, before Charlie could protest, lifted him up to the high window.

Night was falling fast, but the mountains were sharply outlined against a ribbon of pale green sky. Close to the top of the tallest mountain, flickering red lights could be seen and, behind them, a black shape capped with steep turrets.

"He is seldom there," said the giant, "but the fires burn constantly to remind his subjects that he is watching them."

Charlie shuddered. It had only just occurred to27him that he might be trapped in this hostile world forever. He was about to be lowered to the ground when he shouted, "Stop.

I see something."

A few feet away from the base of the giant's tower stood a large yellow dog. It was staring up at the window. When the dog caught Charlie's eye, it began to bark.

"Runner Bean!" cried Charlie.

How had his best friend's dog followed him into a painting? It couldn't happen.

But he had.28CHAPTER 2

THE MELTING DOG

minutes after Charlie had traveled into Badlock, his best friend, Benjamin Brown, a small, tow-haired, anxious-looking boy, left his house at number twelve Filbert Street and crossed the road to number nine. His dog, Runner Bean, trotted behind him.

When Benjamin rang the bell at number nine, the door was immediately opened by Charlie's grandmother Maisie.

"Benjamin, love," cried Maisie, drawing him into the hall. "I hope you can do something.

Charlie's gone."

"Gone, Mrs. Jones? Gone where?" Benjamin dutifully wiped his shoes on the doormat.

"If I knew that, I wouldn't be standing here asking you to do something, would I?" Maisie closed her eyes and scratched the back of her neck. "Whatever am I going to tell his parents?"29"I don't expect you'll have to tell them anything," said Benjamin. "Perhaps my mom and dad can help, being detectives."

Benjamin instantly regretted saying this. His parents were working on a very important case. They had just left the house; Mrs. Brown disguised as a man, and Mr. Brown disguised as a woman. Benjamin didn't much like it when his parents dressed like this; they hadn't even explained the circumstances that demanded the fake mustache (for Mrs.

Brown) and the blond wig (for Mr. Brown), they had just told Benjamin to go over to Charlie's house, where Maisie would give him lunch.

"Actually, I'm sorry, I don't think my parents can help," Benjamin apologized.

"I'm pretty sure they can't." Maisie turned away and led Benjamin down a dim hallway.

"This is one of those disappearances that normal people couldn't hope to solve."

"But I'm normal," Benjamin reminded her.30Maisie sighed. "Well, I know. But you're a friend, and you could get one of the others. The endowed ones - or whatever they call themselves."

"Children of the Red King," Benjamin said quietly.

They had reached the cellar door, which stood wide open. Maisie beckoned to Benjamin and pointed into the cellar. Benjamin looked down into the murky underground room.

Maisie nodded encouragingly. Benjamin didn't like cellars, nor did Runner Bean. The big dog began to whine.

"Do I have to?" Benjamin asked.

"It's down there," said Maisie in a hushed voice.

"What is?"

"The painting, dear."

Benjamin uttered a very slow "Ohhh" as he realized that Charlie must be traveling. "He hasn't really disappeared, then."

"This time he has," said Maisie solemnly.

Benjamin stared into the cellar. He descended three or four steps until he could see the whole room. A dim light hanging from the ceiling showed31him a unused cabinet, broken chairs, curtain rods, piles of newspapers and magazines, and large black plastic bags filled with bulging objects. And then he saw the painting. It was standing against one of the walls, beside an old rolled-up mattress.

A small shadow flickered over it, and Benjamin saw that a white moth was hovering around the lightbulb. All at once the moth swung away and vanished. Benjamin went to the bottom of the steps and walked over to the painting. Runner Bean scrabbled down after him. He was panting very heavily and occasionally emitted a nervous whine.

The painting gave Benjamin the shivers. He was, as Maisie had admitted, a normal boy, so he experienced none of the insistent tugs that Charlie had felt, nor did he feel or hear the moaning Badlock winds. He did, however, get the impression that the almost photographic reality of the painting showed a place that had not been imagined but copied faithfully. It existed. Or did, once. With its dark towers, sunless sky,32and looming mountains, it was certainly a hostile, sinister country.

There was a green scrawl in the bottom right-hand corner of the painting, badlock. If Badlock really was a place, it was not somewhere that Benjamin would have wanted to visit. So why did Charlie go in? It was deserted, and as far as Benjamin could remember, Charlie had always needed first to hear a voice, and then to focus on a face, before he entered a picture. And in all the time Benjamin had known about his friend's endowment, Charlie had never actually disappeared. His physical presence had always remained in the present, while his mind roamed the world behind the pictures.

"What d'you think's going on, Ben?" asked Maisie, from the top of the steps.

Benjamin shook his head. "Don't know, Mrs. Jones. Where's Charlie's uncle?"

"Paton? At the bookstore," said Maisie. "Where else?"33"Think I'll go over there. Mr.

Yewbeam will know what to do." Benjamin turned toward the steps.

Runner Bean didn't follow his master but stood before the painting in an odd stance, his head to one side, as though he were listening to something. He gave a low, mournful howl. And then, before Benjamin's very eyes, the yellow dog became a smaller, paler version of himself.

"Runner?" Benjamin leaped toward his dog. He touched the tip of Runner Bean's tail, which was standing out as stiff as a broom, but in less than a second the tail had melted away and with it the whole of Benjamin's beloved dog.

"RUNNER!" Benjamin shrieked, just as the front door slammed.

"Oh my goodness!" Maisie clapped a hand over her mouth.

She was roughly pushed aside by Grandma Bone, who had suddenly appeared beside her.

"What on earth is going on?" demanded Grandma Bone.34Benjamin stared up at the two women. Maisie was shaking her head, her eyes were very wide, and her eyebrows were working furiously up and down. She seemed to be warning him. Distraught as he was, Benjamin began to think, fast. It was always understood by Charlie and himself that Grandma Bone must know absolutely nothing about what went on, especially if it had anything at all to do with Charlie's traveling.

Grandma Bone had caught sight of Maisie's eyebrows wriggling. "What's the matter with you, woman?" she snarled.

"Surprise," said Maisie. "So surprised. Thought we heard a rat, didn't we, Benjamin?"

Benjamin nodded vehemently.

"I thought I heard a bark." Grandma Bone glared suspiciously at Benjamin. "Where's your dog?"

"He... he didn't come with me today," said Benjamin, almost choking with distress. Could Grandma Bone see the unwrapped painting from where she stood? He didn't think so.35"Unusual. Not to bring your dog. Thought it was your shadow?" The tall woman turned on her heel and walked away, adding, "I'd come out of that cellar if I were you. It's more than likely the rats'll get you. Where's Charlie, by the way?"

"Gone to the bookstore," Maisie said quickly. "And that's just where Benjamin's going, isn't it, Ben?"

"Er - yes."

Benjamin dragged himself regretfully up the cellar steps. He felt that he was betraying Runner Bean, leaving him trapped inside the awful painting. But what else could he do?

Charlie's Uncle Paton would provide an answer. He usually knew what to do when things went wrong.

Maisie saw Benjamin to the door. "Take care, dear," she said. "I don't like to think of you alone in the city without your dog."

"I am eleven," Benjamin reminded her. "See you later, Mrs. Jones."

"I hope so, dear." Maisie closed the door.36Benjamin had taken only a few steps up the road when he became acutely aware that part of him was missing. The dog part. He'd been without Runner Bean before, when his parents took him to Hong Kong. But this was different. This was in a city where almost nothing was ordinary. Without warning, people could suddenly disappear, streetlights could explode, snow could fall in summer.

Ingledew's Bookstore wasn't far from Filbert Street, but today it felt as though there were a huge gap between Benjamin and safety. He was halfway down High Street when he saw two children on the other side of the road. Joshua Tilpin, a small, untidy, sullen-looking boy, shambled beside his taller companion: a boy with a pale, greenish complexion and an odd, lurching walk. Dagbert-the-drowner.

Pretending he hadn't seen them, Benjamin walked nonchalantly on, but from the corner of his eye he saw Dagbert nudge Joshua and point across the road.37Benjamin lost his nerve. Instead of continuing up the road, he darted down a side street. For a few minutes

he stood in the shadows, watching the two boys. He was being silly, he told himself. Why should he be afraid of two boys from Charlie's school? He hardly knew them. All the same, they gave him the creeps. Joshua had a reputation for making people do things against their will, not hypnotism exactly. They called it magnetism. As for Dagbert, he drowned people. Recently, he'd tried to drown Charlie in the river.

Glancing up the street behind him, Benjamin was relieved to find that he knew where he was. He began to run.

"What's up, Benjamin Brown?" called a voice., "Lost your dog?"

Benjamin didn't look back. Joshua and Dagbert must have raced across the road and followed him.

"You're not frightened of us, little Ben, are you?" Dagbert shouted. "Where's Charlie?"38Almost tripping over his own feet, Benjamin bounded into a cobblestoned square. In the center of the square stood an old single-family house. It was surrounded by a low wall and a weedy garden. Nailed to the gate was a weathered board that read Gunn House. The rest of the board was filled with music notes: crochets, quavers, minims, and semibreves, though one hardly needed the musical notation to know that a family of musicians lived here. The noise coming from within the house made it obvious. The walls shook with the sound of drums, violins, flutes, cellos, and singing voices.

Benjamin pressed the doorbell, and a deep recorded voice announced, "DOOR! DOOR!

DOOR!"

The Gunns' door-voice always unnerved Benjamin, but then a tinkling bell would have been drowned by the music, and visitors would have waited on the step in vain.

The door was opened by Fidelio Gunn, a violin in one hand and a bow in the other. "Hi, Ben, where's Charlie?" said the freckle-faced boy.39"Hey!" came a shout behind Benjamin.

"Charlie's - er - can I come in, PLEASE?" asked Benjamin.

Catching sight of Benjamin's pursuers, Fidelio said, "You'd better."

Benjamin leaped into Gunn House and Fidelio slammed the door.

"What's going on, Ben?" Fidelio led the way into a chaotic kitchen. A gray cat was eating the remains of a breakfast that still hadn't been cleared from the table, and a woman, in a long colorful skirt, was singing at the sink. A small girl, also freckle-faced, tuned her violin beside her.

"Pianissimo, please, Mom!" Fidelio shouted. "Mimi, take your violin somewhere else."

Mrs. Gunn looked over her shoulder. "Benjamin Brown," she sang. "What a surprise!

Can't believe my eyes! Where's the dog of impressive size?"

"Where's Charlie Bone?" asked Mimi, plucking a string.40"Look, Benjamin is a person in his own right," said Fidelio. "He doesn't have to have an appendage."

"A what?" said Mimi, plucking another string.

"An attachment," replied her brother. "Benjamin's dog is not permanently attached to him, nor is Charlie. Sit down, Ben."

Benjamin pulled out a chair and sat down. Feeling hungry, he picked up a piece of dry toast and took a bite out of it.

"Pudding has just licked that," Mimi informed him.

Benjamin eyed the gray cat and sadly replaced the toast.

Fidelio took a chair beside him and leaned forward, his elbows on the table. Mimi stopped plucking at her violin and perched on the other side of the table. Mrs. Gunn hummed softly while she scraped at something in the sink.

"What's happened, Ben?" asked Fidelio. "It's not just those morons outside, is it?"

"No." Benjamin looked at Mimi.41"Mimi always knows what's going on," said Fidelio.

"You can't keep secrets from her, but she can keep a secret, can't you, Mims?"

"My lips are already sealed." Mimi gave Benjamin a big, sealed smile.

"OK." Benjamin began his story rather slowly, but then the drama of Runner Bean's disappearance got the better of him, and he poured it all out in a tearful rush.

"I can't believe it." Fidelio sat back. "Charlie's never taken a dog with him before. I didn't know he could."

"He didn't take him," wailed Benjamin. "Runner Bean vanished long after Charlie went in. At least I think so. But Charlie's never gone right into anything, has he? He always stays outside. It's only his mind that goes in."

"Until now," Fidelio remarked. "Perhaps his endowment is developing."

Benjamin shook his head. "Something's wrong, Fido." He got up and walked over to a window that42overlooked the square. "My stalkers have gone. I think I'll take a chance and run up to the bookstore. Charlie's uncle will know what to do."

"Has he... has he... has he... popped the question?" sang Mrs. Gunn.

"Excuse me?" said Benjamin.

"Uncle Paton. Mr. Yewbeam." Mrs. Gunn dropped her musical tone temporarily. "He's surely going to make an honest woman of Miss Ingledew. How can he resist? He really ought to marry her. The whole city is waiting."

"You mean, you're waiting, Mom," said Fidelio. He turned to Benjamin. "I'll come with you, Ben. Don't like to think of you alone in this city without your dog."

"I am eleven." Benjamin sighed at having to explain this again.

"And I'm twelve," said Fidelio firmly. "There's a difference."

After weeks of dark skies and frosty winds, today a few rays of frail sunshine had begun to filter into43the city. They did nothing to lift Ben's spirits, though. He felt quite resentful toward Charlie for doing something so risky. But that was Charlie all over. He was always rushing into situations without thinking them through.

Fidelio, who seemed to have read Benjamin's mind, said, "It's possible that Charlie never meant to go into that painting. He might have been sucked in, against his will, just like Runner Bean."

"Hmm," Benjamin grunted.

The boys were now entering the narrow cobble-stoned street that led to the cathedral. On either side of them Tudor houses with ancient, crooked roofs leaned over the cobblestones at dangerous angles. The bookstore stood directly opposite the great domed cathedral; a sign above the door read Ingledew's, in old-world script, and in the window two large leather-bound books were displayed against a curtain of dark red velvet. Miss Ingledew sold rare and precious books.

If the boys had paid attention to the gleaming44black car that stood outside the store, they might have had second thoughts, but they were in such a hurry they rushed straight in. A small bell, attached to the inside of the door, tinkled pleasantly as they entered the store.

The sight that met their eyes, however, was not at all pleasant.

Sitting in a wheelchair beside the counter was Mr. Ezekiel Bloor, the owner of Bloor's Academy. Mr. Ezekiel, as he liked to be called, was a hundred and one years old and his head was as close a thing to a living skull as you're ever likely to see. He was covered in a tartan blanket and wore a red woolen hat pulled well down over his large wrinkled ears.

There was very little flesh covering his huge nose with its high knobbly ridge or the sharp cheekbones and long chin. Mr. Ezekiel's eyes, however, were another matter. They glittered beneath the protruding forehead, as black and lively as the eyes of a devious ten-year-old.

Behind the ancient man's wheelchair stood a burly, bald-headed man - Mr. Weedon, the school45janitor, chauffeur, handyman, and gardener. There was nothing he would not have done for Mr. Ezekiel, including murder.

Fidelio and Benjamin would gladly have stepped back out the door, but it was too late to escape. They reluctantly descended the three steps into the store.

"Aha!" croaked Mr. Ezekiel. "What have we here? Odd customers for a rare book, I'd say. I bet you haven't got a hundred pounds to spare, Fidelio Gunn, not coming from a family of eight. You can't even afford a pair of shoes, I'd say." He directed his mocking gaze at Fidelio's worn-out sneakers.

Fidelio shifted his feet self-consciously, but he was not the sort to be outdone, even by the owner of Bloor's Academy. "I save my best for school, sir," he said. "And we've come to see Emma Tolly."

"Girlfriend, is she?" snorted Ezekiel. "The little girl?"

"Not at all, sir," Fidelio said calmly. "She's a friend."

"And who's the scrawny boy trying to hide in your shadow?" Mr. Ezekiel twisted his head to see46Benjamin, who was, indeed, trying to hide behind Fidelio. "Who are you, boy? Speak up."

Benjamin was now in quite a state; desperate to get help for Runner Bean, he could scarcely concentrate on anything else, yet he knew he couldn't mention his dog's disappearance to Mr. Ezekiel.

"Come on, you half-wit," spat the old man.

Fidelio said, "He's Benjamin Brown, sir. Charlie Bone's friend."

Mr. Weedon decided to enter the conversation. "So, where's Charlie Bone today?" he asked with a sneer.

Benjamin croaked, "Busy."

Mr. Ezekiel gave a nasty chuckle. "I know who you are. Your parents are private detectives. Hopeless sleuths. Where's your dog, Benjamin Brown?"

Benjamin screwed up his face, gritted his teeth, and sent Fidelio a helpless look of despair. "Er..."

Fidelio came to his rescue. "He's at the vet. Benjamin's very upset."47Mr. Ezekiel threw back his head and cackled lustily. Weedon joined in with a deep chortle, while the boys watched them in baffled silence. What was so funny about a dog being at the vet?

The curtains behind the counter parted, and an elegant woman with chestnut hair appeared. She was carrying a heavy gold-tooled book, which she laid very carefully on the counter. "Hello, boys. I didn't know you were here," said Miss Ingledew.

"They're after your little assistant." Mr. Ezekiel snickered.

Miss Ingledew ignored his remark. "I think this might be what you want, Mr. Bloor," she said, turning the book so that he could read its title.

"How much?" snapped the old man.

"Three hundred," Miss Ingledew told him.

"Three hundred." Mr. Ezekiel slammed a mottled hand onto the valuable book, causing Miss Ingledew to wince. "I only want to know a bit about marquetry. Mother-of-pearl inlaid boxes in particular, dates48and sizes, et cetera." He began to flip the pages over with his long, bony fingers. "Help me, Weedon."

While the old man was occupied with the book, the two boys moved swiftly across the store and around the counter. Mr. Ezekiel began to whine about the small print as they stepped through the curtains and entered Miss Ingledew's back room.

Here, there were even more books than in the store itself. Shelves covered the walls from floor to ceiling, filled with old, faded, yellow books, large on the bottom shelves and very small at the top. They gave the room a musty, leathery smell that was rather comforting.

But it was, after all, a living room, so there were several tiny tables, a sofa, two armchairs, an upright leather chair, and a desk. Hunched over the desk was a black-haired man who, even sitting down, seemed exceptionally tall.

The man paid no attention to the boys, but continued to pore over the papers in front of him.

Fidelio cleared his throat.49Without looking up, the man said, "If you want Emma and Olivia, they've gone to the Pets' Cafe."

"Actually, Mr. Yewbeam, it's you we wanted," said Fidelio.

"Ah," said Charlie's uncle. "Well, I'm busy."

"This is urgent," Benjamin blurted out. "Charlie's gone into a painting, and so's Runner Bean, and they won't come out."

"They will." Uncle Paton continued to scrutinize the papers. "Eventually."

"You don't understand," said Fidelio in as urgent a tone as he could muster. "This time Charlie's gone right in - he's disappeared - vanished."

Uncle Paton raised his eyes to peer at them over the top of his half-moon glasses.

"Vanished?"

"Yes, Mr. Yewbeam. Completely gone," said Benjamin, on the verge of tears. "There was this painting in your cellar, and Charlie's grandma, the nice one, asked me to go down and help because Charlie had disappeared. So I went down and50Runner Bean followed me, and then he... went in, too."

Uncle Paton frowned. "What sort of painting was this, Benjamin?"

"A horrible one," said Benjamin. "Lots of dark towers and mountains. It had a name at the bottom. Badlock, I think it was."

"BADLOCK."" Uncle Paton sprang up so rapidly his chair fell over and all the papers fluttered off the desk.

"Is it a dangerous place?" Benjamin asked breathlessly.

"The worst place in the world," said Uncle Paton. "Though I can't be certain that it was ever actually in this world."

Benjamin's mouth fell open. He gaped at Paton Yewbeam, trying to make sense of what he had said. Even Fidelio was lost for words.

"No time to lose. Come on, boys." Uncle Paton brushed aside the curtain and marched into the store, quickly followed by Fidelio and Benjamin.51CHAPTER 3

SQUIRM STEW

.Julia Ingledew was anxiously watching Ezekiel Bloor as he thumbed through her precious book. She didn't want to wrestle it away from him in case even more damage was done. When he saw Paton Yewbeam, however, the old man looked up.

"Aha! Paton Yewbeam!" Ezekiel declared. "Thought you didn't go out in daylight?"

"I go out when I please," Uncle Paton retorted, snatching his fedora from a hat stand in the corner.

"Hmmm," the old man sniffed as Paton strode to the door. "I suppose that's why this oldie-worldie shoppie is so dark. You could do with a bit of electricity in here, Miss Books."

Uncle Paton stopped mid-stride, causing Benjamin to walk straight into him. "Watch your tongue, Ezekiel Bloor," growled Paton.

"Or else... ?" sneered Ezekiel. "I hope you're not thinking of asking this good lady to marry you, Paton.52She'd never have you, you know." He broke into a fit of cackling.

The boys watched uneasily as both Miss Ingledew and Paton Yewbeam turned very pink.

Ezekiel had let go of the book to wipe his mouth and Miss Ingledew took the opportunity to slide the rare book away from him. But Mr. Weedon pulled it back again.

Recovering his composure, Paton said, "Kindly keep your nose out of my business, Mr.

Bloor."

"And you run along about yours." Ezekiel waved his wet hand dismissively.

Paton hovered, glaring at the old man. "I hope you're not damaging a rare book." He looked at Miss Ingledew. "Ju... Miss Ingledew, do you want me to... ?"

"No, no," said Miss Ingledew, still very pink. "You go, Pa... Mr. Yewbeam. I can see it's urgent."

"It is, rather." Paton was now in an agony of indecision. He clearly wanted to stay and protect Miss Ingledew, but Benjamin was already halfway up the steps and tugging at his sleeve.53"I'll call you" - Miss Ingledew picked up her cell phone - "if anything goes wrong...."

"You do that." Paton gave her a meaningful look and stepped through the door that Benjamin was impatiently holding open.

"What are you going to do, Mr. Yewbeam?" asked Fidelio, as they sped down the street.

"It depends what is called for," said Paton.

"Look!" Benjamin pointed down the street.

Running toward them were two girls: Emma Tolly, in a blue jacket, with her blond hair flying over her face, was struggling with a large basket. Beside her, Olivia Vertigo also carried a basket, this one smaller and obviously easier to hold. Olivia looked quite spectacular in an oversized sweater with "star" spelled out in gold sequins on the front.

She also wore a sparkly white hat and a gold scarf. Her hair was a deep purple today.

"Mr. Yewbeam," called Olivia. "You've got to help."

"Please, please, please," cried Emma. "Something awful has happened."54The two parties met in the middle of the street.

"We're extremely busy, girls." Uncle Paton brushed past them and continued on his way.

"What's your awful happening?" asked Benjamin, stopping in spite of himself.

"The Pets' Cafe has been closed," wailed Emma. "Permanently. It's awful. We could see Mr. Onimous sitting at the table. His head was in his hands. He looked so depressed."

"We can deal with that later, Em." Fidelio stepped around the girls. "Something worse has happened to Charlie."

"And Runner Bean," Benjamin added. "They've both gone. Vanished. Completely disappeared into a painting."

Emma lowered her basket, from which a loud quacking could be heard. "What are you going to do?"

"We won't know till we get to Charlie's house," said Fidelio, anxiously watching the departing figure of Uncle Paton.55"We'll come!" Olivia was never one to be left out of things. "Let's leave our pets at the bookstore, Em."

"Wouldn't go in the store if I were you," Fidelio called over his shoulder. "Old Mr. Bloor is there."

The two boys ran on while the girls stood making up their minds. Eventually, Emma decided she couldn't leave her auntie Julia alone with Mr. Bloor. She carried on up the street with her pet duck, Nancy, while Olivia hastened after the boys with her white rabbit, Wilfred.

It was a tricky time for Uncle Paton. He had emerged onto High Street, where lights blazed in every store window. Paton pulled the brim of his black hat well down over his face, trying vainly not to glance at the windows. But today was Saturday and High Street teemed with shoppers. Leaden clouds had covered the sun and raindrops were beginning to fall, softly at first, and then with a vengeance. Umbrellas were hastily put up, and being so tall, Paton was immediately at risk. "Watch it!" he gasped as he nearly lost an eye. Leaning sideways he found56himself looking into a window full of prancing mannequins.

Bang! The plate glass window shattered.

Amid screams of shock and disbelief, Paton hurried on. He failed to notice a red light as he sailed through the intersection, and a blue Volvo almost ran him down. "Sorry, sorry,"

called Uncle Paton, glancing at the car's fog lights. This time the explosion was quieter, a mere pop. The driver didn't even notice, and Uncle Paton was able to reach the curb undetected.

Unfortunately, another car, unable to brake fast enough, had crashed into the back of the Volvo. Both drivers leaped out and ugly words rose into the damp air.

Suspecting that Uncle Paton might have something to do with the broken window, the two boys pushed their way through the crowd and were just in time to see Paton, bent almost double, running away from the scene of his latest "accident." He had57nearly reached number nine Filbert Street by the time they caught up with him.

"Was that you, Mr. Yewbeam?" asked Benjamin. The window thing, I mean."

"Fraid so, Benjamin. I'd be grateful for your silence in the matter."

"Of course, Mr. Yewbeam."

They ascended the steps of number nine, Uncle Paton leading the way. As he opened the door, he raised a finger to his lips and whispered harshly, "Not a sound. My sister may be at home."

"She is," Benjamin whispered back.

There was a shriek from the street, and Olivia came flying up to them, the basket swinging wildly from her hand. "Wait for me!" she called.

"Shhh!" hissed the boys.

"Sorry," said Olivia, catching her breath. "Is the demented grandma around?"

Benjamin nodded. Olivia scrambled up the steps and hopped into the hall with the others.

Uncle Paton58quietly closed the door, and Olivia plunked her basket beside the coat stand.

They tiptoed into the kitchen, where Maisie was waiting anxiously. "Nothing's happened," she said. "Not a sign. I keep taking a look, but the wretched picture just sits there, looking back at me. D'you know what? I can feel a kind of smugness coming from it."

"We'll take a look." Uncle Paton removed his hat.

Benjamin's stomach gave a loud bleat.

"Goodness," Maisie exclaimed. "I've even forgotten lunch. That's a first. I'll get a bit ready while you all go down the cellar."

Uncle Paton thought it unnecessary for them all to visit the cellar. Telling Fidelio and Olivia to wait in the kitchen, he chose just Benjamin to accompany him. Benjamin had, after all, seen Runner Bean vanish, and he could tell if the painting had changed at all.

Paton lit three candles in a tall candelabra that stood on the shelf. "Don't, whatever you do, turn the light on in the cellar," he told Benjamin.59"Of course not, Mr. Yewbeam,"

Benjamin said emphatically.

Paton made his way down the steps backward with the candelabra in his right hand.

Benjamin followed.

"Ye gods, what a grim place!" Paton declared, as the flickering candlelight played over the surface of the painting.

Benjamin shuddered. Badlock had looked sinister before. But in candlelight it looked terrifying. He could hardly bear to think what might have become of Runner Bean in such an awful place. And then he saw it. At the bottom of the painting, peeking around the corner of one of the towers, was a dog. Runner Bean. His mouth was open in a silent howl.

Benjamin screamed.

"What the... ?" Uncle Paton almost dropped the candelabra.

"Look, look, Mr. Yewbeam!" Benjamin pointed a shaking finger at Runner Bean.

Paton bent closer to the dog's head.60Benjamin's scream had brought the others rushing to the cellar door.

"What is it? What's happened?" Maisie demanded.

"Can I come down, please," begged Olivia. "I can't stand not knowing."

"Runner's h... h... here," Benjamin quavered.

"Here?" said Fidelio.

"Here... but, not here. THERE," moaned Benjamin.

"In the painting." Uncle Paton's tone gave the already tense atmosphere an edge of menace. This was too much for Olivia, who began to scramble down the steps. She was stopped by a shout from the hall.

"RABBIT!" screamed Grandma Bone from upstairs.

Grandma Bone was scared of most animals, but harmless rabbits were her betes noires.

Olivia reluctantly climbed back, while Fidelio said calmly, "It's all right, Mrs. Bone. It won't hurt you."

"It's EVIL," shrilled Grandma Bone, and then she saw Olivia. "What are you doing here, you harpy?"61Olivia had never been called a harpy before. She was rather pleased. Her rabbit, Wilfred, had escaped from his basket and was now halfway up the stairs, happily

grazing the carpet. Grandma Bone was standing at the top; one of her small black eyes was screwed shut, the other watched the rabbit's progress in horror.

Olivia leaped up the stairs, grabbed her rabbit, and carried him back to his basket. "He honestly wouldn't hurt a fly," she said, fastening the basket lid.

"I asked you what you were doing here." Feeling safer, Grandma Bone slowly descended the stairs.

Before Olivia could think of a reply, Uncle Paton emerged and said, "I think it's about time you answered a few of my questions, Grizelda."

"Such as?" Grandma Bone tossed her head imperiously.

"Such as - what is that painting doing in the cellar, and where has it come from?"

"None of your business." With a wary glance at Wilfred's basket, Grandma Bone swept back up the62stairs and crossed the hall into the living room. Uncle Paton followed her and the three children trooped after him. Maisie, however, sank onto the hall chair with a baffled sigh.

"It is my business," Uncle Paton insisted.

Grandma Bone settled herself in an armchair and picked up a newspaper.

"Are you listening to me, Grizelda?" roared Uncle Paton, and then, to the concern of the three children hovering by the door, he said, "Your grandson has vanished into that painting."

Benjamin muttered, "We're not supposed to tell..."

Grandma Bone lowered her newspaper. Her long, grumpy face was momentarily transformed by a look of pure delight. "But that's what he does," she said.

In the giant's tower, Charlie gave Runner Bean a brief wave before being lowered to the floor.

"A dog?" said Otus. "Their like is ne'er seen in Badlock."63"We must rescue him before those awful troll things come back," said Charlie, making for the door.

"Boy, wait!" commanded Otus. "This is not as simple as it seems."

"Nothing here is simple." Charlie began to run down the stone spiral.

"STOP!" The giant's huge roar echoed down the stairwell, and Charlie was forced to obey. "It is most likely a trick, Charlie, to force you into the open. Come back, I beg you."

Charlie reluctantly trudged back to the giant's room. The situation would be hopeless, he realized, if both he and Runner Bean were caught. "I feel so guilty," he told the giant,

"leaving him out there, all alone, especially now that he's seen me."

"I know, I know." Otus lit a candle and set it on the table. "But all around us there are towers and watchers. Soon the darkness will come, a darkness like no other, Charlie. No stars shine in Badlock and moonlight is - scarce. So we will creep down our tower and rescue the poor dog."64The giant stirred the pot hanging over his stove. "I had a dog once, in the world we come from. It was a fine dog, and we were scarce parted. Here, in Badlock, there are no dogs or cats. There are only bugs and slimy, creeping, cold-blooded things called durgles. And the birds fly on bony, featherless wings, and they have long, fearful beaks."

Charlie climbed onto the giant's bed. "Why are there no dogs or cats?"

"The shadow and his people consider a creature's use solely the food it can provide, or the pelt that can become a cloak, a jerkin, or even shoes. Every warm-blooded creature has

been hunted, almost to extinction. Only the squirras survive; they breed like demons, that is the reason, maybe."

"What about blancavamps?" asked Charlie.

"Aha, the blancavamps." Otus smiled. "They dare not touch the blancavamps, for they are ghosties." He ladled several dollops of steamy stew into two wooden bowls. "Come to the table, Charlie my descendant, and eat your supper."65Charlie hauled himself off the bed and onto the tall chair, while the giant tore a round loaf in two and placed a piece beside each bowl. He then half-sat on the table and began to swish the bread into the stew, using it as a kind of spoon. Charlie did the same. Squirra stew was surprisingly good, but then Charlie was very hungry.

They ate in silence for a while. Charlie kept thinking of Runner Bean outside the tower.

How frightened he must be. And then the warm stew settled in his stomach, and he could only think how comforting it was. Occasionally, he glanced at his ancestor's face. He could see no resemblance between the Yewbeams he knew and the giant. Grandma Bone and her sisters had tiny black eyes and thin lips, while Otus had gray eyes and a wide, generous mouth. But, of course, many generations had come between them.

"Tell me about your life," said the giant, scraping the last morsel from his bowl.

Charlie licked his fingers until every delicious trace of the stew was gone, and then he began. He told the66giant how his father had been hypnotized by Manfred Bloor and lived for ten long years in the school called Bloor's Academy, while no one knew he was there. He went on to say how he, Charlie, had discovered his talent for traveling into pictures. He described Grandma Bone and her terrible sisters, and his friends, the normal ones like Fidelio and Benjamin. "Only Fidelio isn't really normal," Charlie added. "He's a musical prodigy and one day he'll be famous."

And then Charlie recounted some of his adventures with those other friends, the endowed, the descendants of the Red King, like himself. Emma, who could fly; Billy, who understood animals; Lysander, who could call up his spirit ancestors; Tancred, the storm-maker; Gabriel, the clairvoyant. "And there's Olivia." Charlie gave a chuckle.

"She's an illusionist, but the Bloors don't know about her. She's kind of our secret weapon."

"So this ancient man, Ezekiel Bloor, keeps you prisoner in his academy for the... ?" The giant looked at Charlie questioningly.67"Gifted, I suppose you'd call it," said Charlie.

"And we're not really prisoners."

"But under his control."

"Sometimes we disobey."

"Good! Good!" cried Otus, clapping his hands. He glanced up at the window. "Darkness has come. The dog can be rescued."

"Runner Bean!" Charlie had almost forgotten poor Runner Bean while he'd been talking to the giant.

Otus led the way down the tower. He held the candle in an iron dish. It smelled like burning fat and cast huge, leaping shadows on the stone walls. When they reached the outer door, the giant stopped and listened. Charlie waited beside him, scarcely able to breathe.

Otus had barely opened the door before Charlie rushed out. He was met by such an overpowering blackness, he felt he might have been blinded. And through the terrible dark came the winds, first from one side, then another, driving him against the wall of the

tower, dragging his legs, howling in his head.68"RUNNER!" Charlie screamed into the wind.

He waited for an answering bark. But nothing could be heard above the winds.

"Best return, boy," called Otus. "He has been taken."

"No!" Charlie ran blindly forward. Suddenly, he was falling. He landed with a groan on the hard, rocky ground. Putting out a hand, he felt a damp wall. Something scurried over his fingers and he screamed again.

There came a deep, throaty bark, and even in his dangerous position, Charlie felt a surge of joy. "Runner!" he called.

The giant's voice drifted above the wind. "Cursed giant, that I am. I should have warned you of the pits. Where are you, boy?"

"Here!" cried Charlie. He heard the thud of boots. A giant hand touched his, and then he was being hauled up the side of the pit. As he reached the top, a shaft of weak, ragged moonlight showed him a69large yellow dog, perched on the rim. "Runner!" he shouted.

Runner Bean barked delightedly as the giant bundled boy and dog toward the tower.

"Hush, dog!" he said, pushing them both through the door.

Charlie grabbed the excited dog's collar while Otus closed the door and drew two heavy bolts across it.

"Faith, that dog will have us all in chains before night has passed," the giant muttered.

"Did someone hear us?" Charlie stroked Runner Bean's head, calming him down.

"I fear my neighbor," Otus admitted, as he went up the stone staircase. "His tower is close, and he is not a kind man."

Now that Runner Bean had found Charlie, he seemed reluctant to climb the shadowy steps. Charlie had to coax him up with strokes and promises of bones, though he had no idea if any would be found once they reached the giant's room.70The giant had thought ahead. By the time Charlie had enticed the nervous dog to the top of the stairs, Otus had fished two bones out of the cooking pot. Flinging them across the floor, he chuckled,

"Chew on those, brave dog."

"I don't think he feels very brave," Charlie remarked as he watched Runner Bean, ravenously gnawing the bones.

"Charlie, you must flee from here," Otus said gravely. "We cannot hope to hide that dog.

Soon my neighbor will alert Oddthumb and his crew. You will hear the horn, and then you must be gone."

"But how?" Charlie gazed around the giant's room. "I can't," he said in a strangled voice.

"I don't know how I got here. When I travel I have a wand ..."

"A wand?" The giant's eyes widened. "Truly, you are a magician, then?"

"No, no." Charlie shook his head. "It's just something that I inherited from my other ancestor, a Welsh wizard. It'd take too long to explain."

Too long, indeed, for at that moment the eerie71sound of a wailing horn echoed around the giant's tower.

"Oh, mercy, what's to be done?" The giant strode around and around, clenching his fists and glaring at the high window. "I shall defend you with my last breath, Charlie. But I am only one. I cannot prevail. Oddthumb will take you. Oh, poor boy, what is to become of you?"

The giant's mournful voice was too much for Runner Bean. He leaped up with a dreadful howl - and something astonishing happened. From inside one of the dog's ears, a white moth fluttered out. She came to rest on Charlie's arm.

"Claerwen," breathed Charlie. "My wand."

"In my day, we called such things moths," said the baffled giant.

"Yes, yes. She is a moth, but she was once a wand," Charlie told the giant. "Mr.

Yewbeam, Otus - we can go now. Thank you, thank you..."

"Then go," said Otus, "for I can hear troll feet. Swiftly, swiftly, Charlie Bone."72"Maybe I could take you with me, Otus?"

The giant sadly shook his head. "An impossibility. Go now, Charlie."

Charlie flung his arm around Runner Bean. "I'll come back, Otus. I promise. I'll find a way to get you out of Badlock." Gazing at the moth, he cried, "Claerwen, take me home."

The room around him began to jerk and jolt. Defying gravity, the table, chair, and bed tumbled sideways, then became airborne. Charlie was treading air. Now he was upside down. His ears were bombarded with a thousand sounds. He felt Runner's coarse hair melting under his fingers and tried to grip it tighter, but something or someone was trying to tear the dog from his grasp. And then his hand was empty and he was whirling away.

Charlie caught one last glimpse of his ancestor's kind, incredulous face before he was thrust through time, through a sparkling, shifting web of sounds, smells, and sensations.73He landed with a light bump on the cold cellar floor of number nine Filbert Street. The painting of Badlock stood against the wall behind him. Giving it one brief glance, Charlie ran to the steps and climbed up to the hall. He could hear voices arguing above him.

"Mercy on us!" yelled Maisie, jumping out of her chair. "Charlie's back!"

There was a sudden silence in the living room. Uncle Paton stepped out, followed by Fidelio, Benjamin, and Olivia.

"Charlie!" cried Benjamin. "Have you got Runner?"

Charlie still felt unsteady. Grasping the railing for support, he said, "Bit of a problem there, Ben."74CHAPTER 4

GREEN VAPOR

Charlie Bone, I hate you!"

Benjamin's sudden explosion was so out of character, Charlie could only stare at his friend in astonishment.

"You're always doing it," yelled Benjamin. "You're always losing my dog. That time he nearly drowned, and that other time when the enchanter came and..."

"Benjamin Brown," roared Uncle Paton, "control yourself."

Benjamin's mouth closed in a grim pout. His usually pale face had turned an angry red and his eyes were filled with tears.

Charlie stared miserably at his feet. "I'm sorry, but I tried to bring Runner back with me, I really did."

"You saw him?" Benjamin almost choked on his words. "How come you got out and he couldn't? He's trapped in that awful place... and... and ..."75Uncle Paton put a hand on Benjamin's shoulder and gently propelled him toward the kitchen. "Come and sit down, all of you. We need to discuss things carefully."

A voice called from the living room, "Oh, what a to-do!"

"I suppose this is some devilish plan of yours, Grizelda," Uncle Paton retorted.

"Mine?" came the plaintive cry. "I know nothing whatever about it. That painting was all wrapped up. How did I know Charlie would start prying?"

"You knew all right," muttered Uncle Paton. Having gotten everyone into the kitchen, he slammed the door.

"I'll make some sandwiches," said Maisie in her soothing, matter-of-fact voice.

Everyone sat at the kitchen table while Maisie started slicing bread. Uncle Paton paced up and down, pinching his chin and scratching his head.

"Charlie, aren't you going to tell us what happened?" Olivia demanded.76Charlie looked at Benjamin, sitting hunched at the end of the table. "OK... if you all want to know."

"Of course we do," said Fidelio. "That's why we're here."

"It was weird," Charlie began, with another glance in Benjamin's direction. "I was just standing there, looking at the painting, when I felt myself being kind of dragged toward it. It was all wrapped up, but I heard a sound coming from it - the wind."

"The wind?" Uncle Paton stopped pacing and came to sit at the table.

"Go on," urged Olivia.

"So I unwrapped the painting, just a bit, and then suddenly I was there. I hardly traveled at all. It was as if the painting reached out and sucked me in." Charlie looked around at the expectant faces; even Benjamin was staring at him.

"Yes," Uncle Paton prompted, "and then?"

"And then I met a giant."

"A GIANT!" everyone exclaimed, including Maisie,77who squeaked as well, having accidentally slammed her fingers in the fridge.

"A sort of giant," Charlie amended. He went on to tell them about Oddthumb and the troll army, about the squirras and blancavamps, the black fortress on the mountain, and finally, how Runner Bean had arrived, with Charlie's moth hidden in his ear.

Not once during Charlie's long account did anyone say a word, and when he came to the end, such a deep silence had fallen in the room that no one seemed inclined to break it until Benjamin said, very softly, "What will happen to Runner if the trolls want his fur?"

Before anyone dared to make a guess, Maisie put a huge plate of sandwiches on the table, saying, "Have some food, kids."

"I hope that applies to me, too," said Uncle Paton, reaching for a sandwich with apple and walnut clearly visible along one side. "Charlie," he continued, "you told us that you saw a black fortress in Badlock."78"In the distance," Charlie spoke through a mouthful of cheese and pickle. "The enchanter's fortress. Just looking at it gave me the creeps."

"Hmm." Uncle Paton smoothed back a long lock of black hair that he had almost eaten with the sandwich. "It occurs to me that Harken the Enchanter is at work again."

"He can't be," Fidelio argued. "Charlie and the others got rid of him when they chanted that spell around the king's tree."

"He MUST have gone," cried Olivia, jumping up and down in her seat, "because Charlie's mother was saved and... and his father woke up and... and Joshua's mother, the witch, has vanished."

"And he doesn't live in Kingdom's Department Store anymore," Benjamin assured them,

"because Mom and Dad met the new owner when they were on a shoplifting case there, and they said he was quite normal, except for being overweight, in Mom's opinion, anyway."79"Nevertheless." Uncle Paton turned to Charlie. "Is there still a shadow in the king's portrait?"

Charlie confessed that there was. The portrait hung in the King's room at Bloor's Academy, and Charlie had often tried to enter it, but a dark shadow behind the king always prevented Charlie from meeting his famous ancestor.

"I rest my case," said Uncle Paton.

Olivia raised an eyebrow. "What does that mean, Mr. Yewbeam?"

Uncle Paton sighed. "It means, my dear Olivia, that if there is a shadow in the king's portrait, a shadow remains in our lives; it's very faint," he added, observing the children's anxious faces, "but it's a shadow, nevertheless. It seems to me that someone is still communicating with Harken the Enchanter, hence the arrival of that painting and the unusual manner of Charlie's journey into Badlock."

Uncle Paton found the five pairs of eyes trained expectantly upon him rather disconcerting. Realizing80that he would have to come up with something better, he said,

"But who, or what, or why ... I can't yet fathom. Unless ..." He scratched his chin. "Unless someone is using the mirror."

"The Mirror of Amoret was cracked," Charlie said slowly, "when Joshua stole it from me."

"Perhaps it's been fixed," Benjamin suggested as he tried to wish away the awful vision of his starved dog, chained to a block of stone, while Oddthumb, the troll, approached with a large pair of shears.

The Mirror of Amoret had not been fixed. Mrs. Tilpin, formerly Miss Chrystal, might have been a witch, but she had her limitations. She had tried every spell she could find in The Collected Charms and Enchantments of Steffania Sugwash (a book she had inherited from her uncle, the notorious Silas Sugwash), all to no avail. So she had decided to enroll some of the endowed students of Bloor's Academy in a small weekend class, where she hoped their special81powers could be combined to fix the precious, but sadly damaged, Mirror of Amoret.

With Manfred Bloor's assistance, Mrs. Tilpin had managed to hide herself away in the basement of Bloor's Academy. Here she lived with her son, Joshua, who resented every moment spent in the two damp and dingy rooms, while his mother chanted and hummed and burned herbs in iron bowls and sometimes made him dance horrible dances with her.

But she was his mother, and he didn't blame her. He blamed Charlie Bone, who had caused his mother to reveal herself. Charlie, who had stolen the Mirror of Amoret and made Joshua break it.

Not many children would choose to spend their Saturday afternoons in a dank basement room at Bloor's Academy, but Dorcas Loom and the Branko twins, Idith and Inez, were great admirers of Fairy Tilpin (as they liked to call her). This description might once have applied, but not since Mrs. Tilpin had been communicating with Harken the Enchanter.

Joshua82was, of course, in attendance, but the last member of the group, Dagbert Endless, was less enthusiastic. While the others leaned over Mrs. Tilpin's table, listening with rapt attention, Dagbert preferred to pace in the shadows. Occasionally, he would glance at the little group with a slightly superior expression on his face. This annoyed Mrs. Tilpin, but she never once criticized Dagbert, for she knew that he was the most powerful of all the children, and if she were to bring Harken the Enchanter back into the world, then Dagbert would be an invaluable ally.

Today, Mrs. Tilpin was feeling especially optimistic. The children were ready to proceed.

She put TheCollected Charms and Enchantments of Steffania Sugwashinto a cabinet and locked the door with the small silver key that she kept in her pocket.

"Aww! Aren't you going to tell us about Steffania today?" One of the Branko twins sent a spindly chair teetering across the room.

"Petulance will get you nowhere," admonished Mrs. Tilpin. "Who did it?"83"I did," said the twin who was responsible.

"Yes, but which twin are you?"

"Can't you tell, Mrs. "I.?" The voice came from the shadows beside a looming cabinet.

"And I thought you knew everything."

Mrs. Tilpin decided to ignore Dagbert. "If you don't tell me which twin you are, then the lesson is over."

The Branko twins, sitting close to each other, stared at Mrs. Tilpin from under their deep black bangs. Their round, porcelain-white faces showed not a trace of emotion, but then one of them suddenly cried, "Inez, Fairy Tilpin. I'm Inez."

"No, you're not, you're Idith," said Dagbert.

This time he had gone too far. "Dagbert Endless, if you don't stop sabotaging my class, I shall have no alternative but to dismiss you."

"OK." Dagbert strode toward the dilapidated planks of wood that served as a door to the so-called classroom.84"Stop!" Mrs. Tilpin commanded.

Dagbert reached the door and glanced back.

Mrs. Tilpin eyed the sullen-looking boy with distaste. He smelled of fish, his face had a greenish hue, and his lank hair reminded her of seaweed. But she needed him.

"I didn't say you WERE dismissed," said Mrs. Tilpin in a slightly wheedling tone. "I'm sure we can get along if we try a little harder. There's something I wanted to show you, in particular, Dagbert."

"Why Dagbert?" asked Joshua.

"Well, all of you," said his mother, and with a dramatic flourish, she reached under the table and produced a gleaming, jewel-framed mirror. Holding it out so that each one of them received an almost blinding flash from its shining surface, she announced, "The Mirror of Amoret."

"It's cracked," Dagbert observed.

"Exactly." Mrs. Tilpin smiled.

"What do you mean, 'exactly'?" asked Dorcas Loom in her monotonous voice.85Mrs.

Tilpin wasn't completely without feeling. She felt sorry for Dorcas, with her large pink face and drab, overly permed hair. "Well dear, the reason I'm showing you the mirror is because it's cracked. I thought if we combined our considerable powers, then we might, just might, be able to fix it." She laid the mirror on the table, noting with satisfaction that Dagbert had moved closer.

The three girls leaned eagerly over the table and peered into the silvery glass. Expecting to find themselves reflected in the mirror, they were surprised to see a mist of subtle colors swirling over the surface.

"It's like water," said Inez.

Dagbert stepped closer and looked over Joshua's shoulder.

"Why can't we see ourselves?" asked Dorcas.

"Because you are not there," murmured the witch.

Dagbert directed a skeptical look at her. "We're here," he stated, "so we should be there."

He pointed at the mirror.86"Ah. But this is the Mirror of Amoret," said Mrs. Tilpin. "I can see that you don't know the story, Dagbert. I shall enlighten you. Nine hundred years ago, the Red King, whom we in this room acknowledge to be our ancestor, had ..."

"Not the only ancestor," Dagbert pointed out.

"Shhh!" hissed everyone.

Mrs. Tilpin continued as though the interruption had not happened. "Had ten children.

Lilith, his eldest daughter, married Harken the Enchanter, and I am descended from their union."

"Phew!" Dagbert whistled.

"Amoret, the king's youngest daughter, married a" - Mrs. Tilpin waved her white fingers in the air - "a giant, I believe."

Dagbert whistled again, but everyone ignored him.

"The king made a mirror for Amoret, a mirror that enabled her to travel. She had only to look into this mirror and think of the person she wished to see, and there she would be, beside them."87At this point Joshua took up the story that by now he knew only too well.

"But Amoret died and Count Harken inherited the mirror."

"Really? Inherited the mirror, did he?" Dagbert gave a very slight snort of disbelief.

Mrs. Tilpin's gray eyes flashed. "Yes! Inherited!"

"I wish you wouldn't keep interrupting, Dagbert," Idith complained. "It spoils it for the rest of us."

"SO sorry!" Dagbert shrugged and walked away.

"Wait!" commanded Mrs. Tilpin. "I brought Harken back with this." She grabbed the mirror and held it up.

"But Charlie Bone got it, and we had a fight and I broke it," said Joshua. "And then he found a spell to send the enchanter back into Badlock."

"And there he stays until the mirror can be fixed," continued Mrs. Tilpin. "But we can do it, can't we, children? You and I together, so that Harken can walk among us once again."

They gazed up at the sallow-skinned, beetle-browed woman, who had once been so blond and88pleasant-looking. Her hair was now lank and colorless, her eyes ringed with black shadows, even her lips had shrunk to a thin purple line. Is this what happened when you gave in to witchery? wondered the girls.

Dagbert Endless moved restlessly toward the makeshift door. "I drown people," he said.

"Don't see how I can fix glass."

"Look!" ordered Mrs. Tilpin, desperately waving the mirror. "Be surprised, Dagbert Endless. Be awed, wonder-struck, amazed."

Dagbert obliged her with a cursory glance at the jewel-framed mirror. And then he looked again. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped. For there, among the constantly shifting shapes and colors, a figure was forming. First a bright emerald tunic, then an olive-skinned, but oddly featureless, face appeared beneath a cloud of golden brown hair.

Gradually, in the oval of the face, two dark green eyes emerged; they seemed to be staring directly at Dagbert, and under their fierce, compelling gaze, he found himself moving toward the mirror.89But Mrs. Tilpin's moment of triumph was stolen by an earsplitting crash. The rotten wood of the door suddenly gave way and a small white-haired boy fell into the room. He lay facedown on the shattered panels, and everyone stared at him in astonished silence, until Mrs. Tilpin found her voice.

"Billy Raven!" she screamed. "Spy!"

"Snoop!" cried Joshua.

"Eavesdropping snitch!" said Dorcas.

"Sneak!" shouted the twins.

"How did you find us, Billy?" asked Dagbert, who had shaken himself free of the dark green gaze.

Billy Raven got to his feet, a little awkwardly, and adjusted his glasses. "I was looking for the dog," he said.

"That scabby old Blessed," snorted Joshua.

Mrs. Tilpin laid her mirror very gently on the table and walked over to Billy. "Why are you not staying with Charlie Bone?" she asked in a cold voice.

"He forgot to ask me," sniffed Billy, picking a splinter out of his palm.90"FORGOT,"

said Mrs. Tilpin. "That's not very nice. I thought he was your friend."

"He is," Billy mumbled, "but sometimes he's busy."

"Aww!" said Dorcas. "Poor Billy."

Billy chewed his lip and darted a furtive look at the table. A vaporous green cloud was rising from the mirror and curling up toward the damp ceiling. Everyone turned to watch it, mouths open and eyes wide.

"What's that?" Billy whispered.

Mrs. Tilpin clasped her hands with a look of ecstasy. "That, Billy Raven, is a message from my ancestor. It seems that you have disappointed him."

"Me?" The chill that ran down Billy's spine had nothing to do with the temperature in Mrs. Tilpin's room. The sight of the green vapor terrified him so much, he even failed to hear the snap of wood as someone stepped over the broken door.

Suddenly, Billy's shoulders were grabbed from behind and the small boy gasped with shock.91"What are you doing here?" Manfred Bloor swung Billy around to face him.

"Why aren't you staying with Charlie Bone?"

Billy looked into the cruel black eyes gazing down at him. He had always been mortally afraid of Manfred Bloor; with his bony face and narrow shoulders, he looked more like an old man than a boy of nineteen. His long hair, tied in a ponytail, was already streaked with gray, and his tight black sweater only emphasized his scrawny frame.

"Well?" snarled Manfred.

"He ... he didn't ask," faltered Billy.

"Didn't ask. That's no excuse." Manfred glanced disdainfully at the children seated around the table. Then he noticed Dagbert and he gave a brief half-smile.

All that remained of the green vapor was a thin cloud that clung to the brick ceiling like a mildewy cobweb. Manfred didn't appear to have seen it. "Scram, kids!" he barked. "I want a private word with Mrs. Tilpin."92With a chorus of "Yes, Manfred," Dorcas, the twins, and Joshua gathered up their books and made for the door. Dagbert said nothing, but he followed the others as they stepped over the splintered planks. And then he looked back briefly and murmured. "She wants to let an enchanter loose on the world, what d'you think of that, Manfred?"

"I think it's an excellent idea," Manfred replied, with another of his sinister smiles.

"Really?" Dagbert raised his eyebrows and stepped into the dark hallway.

"You too," said Manfred, addressing the white-haired boy who seemed to be in a trance.

Billy shook himself. He looked around the room, as though he had no idea how he got there, and then walked slowly through the doorway.

"Tell Mr. Weedon to come and fix the door you broke," Mrs. Tilpin called after him.

"Yes," said Billy weakly.

Manfred lifted two of the wooden boards and laid them across the drafty gap. Rubbing his hands93free of dust, he came and sat at the table. "Very satisfactory," he said, his wide grin revealing a row of long yellow teeth.

"You're very pleased with yourself," Mrs. Tilpin remarked.

"Oh, I am. Didn't you notice?"

"Notice?" Mrs. Tilpin appeared to be more interested in her mirror than anything Manfred had to say.

"It's coming back!" Manfred gripped the edge of the table and leaned forward. "My endowment, Titania. Remember, you said it would return if I was patient. "Relax," you said. "Try it out occasionally, but don't force it." Well, I've just hypnotized Billy Raven.

Didn't you notice?"

"I suppose so." Mrs. Tilpin frowned into her mirror. "He's not happy," she mumbled.

"When those leopards attacked me, I thought I was done for, but it's quite the reverse. I'm stronger than ever." Manfred spread out his long, thin arms.

"I expect it was anger," said Mrs. Tilpin, without94taking her eyes from the mirror.

"Anger and fear, both powerful agents. They can channel the forces that lie dormant within us."

"Is that so?" Manfred frowned at the mirror. "What's going on, Titania?"

Her gaze still held by the mirror, Mrs. Tilpin said, "He was expecting Billy Raven. And I haven't given you permission to use my first name."

Manfred shrugged. "Apologies, Fairy Tilpin, but it suits you so well."

Mrs. Tilpin grimaced. She had never known how to accept a compliment. "I feel it when he's angry, right here." She jabbed her stomach. "He expected Billy today. When Eustacia Yewbeam took the painting, she assured me that the boy would be with Charlie."

"What's the hurry? We'll make sure the kid sees the painting next Saturday. He'll start talking to the dog and Harken will have him."

"The dog might not last a week," Mrs. Tilpin said sullenly. "Trolls eat dogs, you know."95"Poor doggie."

Mrs. Tilpin stamped her foot. "Don't be smart. Have you forgotten the enchanter is doing this for you? He has promised to hold the boy until that wretched will is found and destroyed. What do you imagine will happen if Lyell Bone returns and remembers where the will is kept? The game will be up, Manfred Bloor. Billy Raven inherits everything, remember. This house, the ancient castle, even the treasures hidden under old Ezekiel's bed."

Manfred lost his smile and a look of icy cunning came across his face. Mrs. Tilpin found herself holding the mirror tight to her chest, as though the green figure swirling in the glass could protect her from the boy's deadly stare.

"Lyell Bone will never return," said Manfred. "We'll see to that."96CHAPTER 5

THE PETS' CAFEIS CLOSED

Long after his friends had left, Charlie still wandered the house. Up and down the stairs, in and out of his room, and down into the cellar, where he would stare at Runner Bean's

image, at the strands of white hairs in his yellow beard, his shiny black nose, and the reproachful brown eyes that gazed into Charlie's.

"I'm trying to get you out of there, Runner," Charlie would murmur, but try as he might, he couldn't reach the dog trapped in Badlock, a place that might not even exist in the real world. Someone had created a barrier between Charlie and the poor creature he longed to rescue. Charlie had a very good idea who it was, for he met the same impenetrable wall whenever he tried to enter the Red King's portrait.

Uncle Paton had retreated to his room to consider the problem. In his opinion, Billy Raven was97the one to unlock the mystery of Runner Bean's incarceration, for there was a chance that the pale, white-haired boy might somehow communicate with the dog in the painting.

But Billy was imprisoned in Bloor's Academy, and there was no likelihood of his being released at this late hour on a Sunday. They would have to wait for next weekend, when Charlie must make sure that Billy came home with him.

"A week might be too long," Charlie declared, thinking of Oddthumb and his partiality for dog meat.

Maisie, her usually cheerful face creased with worry, turned on the kitchen television.

"There's nothing we can do for now, Charlie," she said, "so we might as well cheer ourselves up."

Charlie couldn't agree. He was about to go back to the cellar when Grandma Bone came downstairs, dressed up for an evening out with her sisters. Charlie stood by the cellar door, watching the tall figure stride to the front door. Though knowing it98would be useless, Charlie couldn't stop himself from calling out to her.

"Grandma! Please, please, do you know why my friend's dog got locked in that painting?"

Grandma Bone hesitated.

Charlie walked toward her. "If you know why it's happened, can you tell me how I can get Runner Bean out of there?"

"I hope you've done your homework," said Grandma Bone. "School tomorrow." She turned the door handle.

"PLEASE, Grandma!" begged Charlie.

Without another word his grandmother opened the front door and swept out, leaving the wind to slam the door behind her.

"Thanks, Grandma!" Charlie muttered.

He had only taken a few steps back to the cellar when the doorbell rang. Had Grandma Bone forgotten her keys? Charlie was tempted to ignore the bell, but it continued to ring in a rather frantic way. Whoever it was, with their finger glued to the bell,99they weren't going to give up until someone answered.

Charlie trudged back to the front door. He had hardly turned the handle when a small brown-haired woman in a man's tweed suit and cap burst into the hall. Charlie just about recognized Benjamin's mother, Mrs. Brown.

"Charlie, where's your uncle?" Mrs. Brown demanded.

"He's busy." Charlie knew that Uncle Paton hated to be disturbed at dusk, when all the lights came on. "If it's about Runner ..."

"Of COURSE it is!" cried Mrs. Brown. "What have you done? Benjamin's distraught, inconsolable..."

"I know ... ," Charlie began.

"You don't know, Charlie Bone, or you wouldn't have done it."

"But I..."

"Paton!" Mrs. Brown called up the stairs. "I know you're there. I saw your candle in the window. I MUST speak to you."100A door opened and Uncle Paton appeared at the top of the stairs. "What is it, Patricia?" he said brusquely.

""What is it?" You know very well," said Mrs. Brown. "You've got Benjamin's dog in here, and we want him back."

"He's not exactly in... ," Charlie tried to tell her.

Apparently, Mrs. Brown would rather Charlie didn't exist. "Be quiet," she said. "I'm talking to your uncle. Where is Runner Bean? I want to see him."

"If you insist." Uncle Paton went back to his room and reappeared with a candle. "Kindly refrain from switching on the lights," he said as he descended the staircase.

"I wouldn't dream of it," said Mrs. Brown.

Uncle Paton led her down into the cellar, while Charlie followed a few steps behind.

When Mrs. Brown saw Runner Bean's painted image, howling silently out of the nightmarish landscape, she gave a shriek and clasped her face in her hands.

"What happened?" she gasped. 101"Benjamin was incoherent. I couldn't make sense of what he told me."

Charlie began to explain, and this time Mrs. Brown allowed him to tell the whole story, or at least Runner Bean's part in it. Charlie omitted most of the details about Badlock and didn't disclose that the man who rescued him was a giant.

"What are you going to do?" asked Mrs. Brown at last. "How are you going to get our dog out of there?"

"I was hoping you'd help, Patricia," Uncle Paton said wryly. "You being a detective."

"Don't be flippant, Paton," she snapped. "I can't deal with... with all this magic stuff. Oh, sometimes I wish Benjamin and Charlie had never become friends. I shouldn't have let it go on, once I knew that Charlie was... different."

Paton glared at her. "You let their friendship continue because Maisie looks after your son while you're gallivanting around the country disguised as Sherlock Holmes." He walked away from the102painting and began to climb the steps. "Come on, Charlie."

Charlie dumbly followed.

"I'm sorry," called Mrs. Brown, scrambling after them. "I shouldn't have said those things. I'm just so worried about Ben."

Maisie popped out of the kitchen. "Would you like some coffee, Irish?" she asked gently.

Mrs. Brown glanced at Paton's stern face. "I... well, yes. That would be nice. If we could discuss things a little more calmly ..."

Maisie had already lit several candles, and the kitchen counters twinkled with a friendly light. A plate of chocolate cookies sat invitingly on the table, and Uncle Paton was persuaded to join Mrs. Brown and Maisie. "Though I prefer cocoa to coffee," he said.

"Me too," Charlie agreed.

The tense atmosphere improved a little, but Mrs. Brown could not seem to rid herself of the worried frown that creased her forehead. "I should be used to it,"103she said. "I know this city is different from others. I know our houses are built on ancient battlefields, and in places where magic spills out when it's dark. I know things happen that no one can explain, mysteries the police don't even try to solve, evils they dare not acknowledge.

And it's daunting sometimes for normal people like Mr. Brown and me - and Benjamin.

But something keeps us in this city. I suppose it's because, in spite of everything, we feel there is a great goodness here."

"The Red King," Charlie said quickly. He felt their eyes on him, and self-consciously, he added, "He's still here."

"His spirit, you mean, Charlie," said Uncle Paton.

Charlie shook his head. "No, more than that. I've seen him. I told you, Uncle P. - a knight with red feathers on a silver helmet, who wears a red cloak and rides a white horse. He saved me. Twice."

For a while no one spoke. Even Uncle Paton couldn't find words to explain the Red Knight,104but at last he said, "It might not be the king, Charlie."

"Then who?" asked Maisie. "Who would dress up like that and ride around at night on a white horse?"

Paton shrugged. "That, I do not know."

Mrs. Brown got up and put on her tweed cap. "I came here about Runner. And now I'm more confused than ever."

"Charlie thinks that Billy Raven might be able to help," said Maisie.

"Billy Raven?" Mrs. Brown said crossly. "How can he...oh, of course, he communicates..."

"With animals," finished Charlie. "I just thought he might be able to understand what Runner Bean is trying to tell us. But we'll have to wait till next weekend."

Mrs. Brown sighed. "He's our only hope, then. So be it. I'd better get back. I don't think Benjamin will go to school tomorrow." She cast a last angry look at Charlie and, before anyone could say another word, marched out.105"I forgot to ask her why she was wearing a man's suit," said Paton.

"Just as well," said Maisie.

Charlie went upstairs to pack his bag for school. Being a weekly boarder meant that he had to take pajamas, a laundry bag, and a set of clean clothes. Good luck to any pupil who forgot their toothbrush. The matron, Charlie's great-aunt Lucretia, gave detention for the slightest oversight.

On Monday morning a blue school bus picked Charlie up from the top of Filbert Street.

He was wearing a blue cape, the uniform for music students, and carried a blue bag for his clothes and a brown backpack for his books. Fidelio, also in a blue cape, had saved a seat for Charlie, as usual. Behind them sat Gabriel Silk, a boy with a long face and floppy brown hair.

"Have you heard about the Pets' Cafe?" asked Gabriel, leaning over the back of Charlie's seat. "It's a disaster."

"Have they really closed it?" asked Charlie.106"Permanently," said Fidelio gloomily.

"It was Councillor Loom, Dorcas's dad," Gabriel told them. "He said there've been complaints about the noise."

The Pets' Cafe was a favorite meeting place for Charlie and his friends. He couldn't imagine what they would do without it. Or what poor Mr. and Mrs. Onimous, the owners, would do without customers.

When the blue bus drew into the square in front of Bloor's Academy, a green bus pulled up beside it, and art students in green capes began to climb out. Emma was among them.

Behind her came Tancred Torsson and Lysander Sage. Both fourteen and almost inseparable.

"Hey, Charlie," called Tancred. "How was your weekend?"

"Don't ask," said Fidelio.

Tancred walked up to them. His spiky blond hair was hidden by a denim baseball cap, and his green cape billowed out in a breeze that was all his own. "Did something happen?"107As they walked up the steps to the academy, Charlie began to tell Tancred about Runner Bean. He had hardly begun when he became aware that, on his other side, Lysander Sage, who had African ancestors, was bending his head in order to hear Charlie's low voice.

They passed between two towers, crossed a cob-blestoned courtyard, and ascended another set of steps up to huge oak doors studded with bronze figures. This morning the doors stood open, but once all the children were through, they would be closed and bolted until Friday afternoon.

Charlie came to the end of his account just before they stepped into the great hall.

Lysander patted Charlie's shoulder, saying, "We'll come and get him out of there, won't we, Tanc?"

"We'll try," said Tancred in an undertone.

They were now in the great flagstoned hall, where silence was the rule. Charlie, Fidelio, and Gabriel made their way to the blue coatroom, where a pair of crossed trumpets hung above the door. Tancred108and Lysander walked toward the crossed paintbrushes that denoted the green coatroom.

On their way, Charlie noticed that the great hall seemed emptier than usual. And then he realized there was not one purple cape in sight. The drama students were all missing.

It was not until first break that they found out what had happened. In the wide frosty field behind the academy, purple capes could now be seen on children jogging around the perimeter, talking in groups, or playing soccer at the far end. The academy capes were made of thick wool, and the hoods were particularly comforting on cold winter mornings.

Olivia, her purple hood pulled well down over her matching curls, rushed up to Charlie and Fidelio, with Emma hot on her heels.

Olivia breathlessly gave them the news. "There was an accident. It was awful. The Onimouses were on their bike, you know how they ride. Mrs. Onimous in front, pedaling, and Mr. Onimous on a little seat behind her. Well, a mysterious motorcyclist109ran into them and they both fell off. The motorcycle disappeared, but then a car, trying to avoid them, backed into our bus. There was glass everywhere, and we all had to get out and walk to school."

"But the Onimouses!" Charlie exclaimed.

"Well, Mrs. Onimous stood up. I saw her," said Olivia. "She was a bit shaky, but OK, I think. Not sure about him, though. He was lying as still as a stone."

Gabriel and Billy had joined the group. Billy began twisting his hands together. "What about my rat?" he cried. "What about Rembrandt? Who's going to feed him?"

Olivia said sternly, "I'm sure your rat is perfectly capable of looking after himself. It's the poor Onimouses we should be thinking about. We don't even know if Mr. Onimous is alive."

Billy looked sheepishly at his feet. "Sorry," he muttered. "I've had a bad weekend."

Billy's remark pricked Charlie's conscience. He should have invited Billy home with him.

He was about to mention the following weekend, when110the sound of a horn rang out over the field. Break was over.

The small group began to drift toward the school door, and Fidelio said, "What we should be asking ourselves is, who knocked the Onimouses off their bike?"

"And why?" added Emma. "Mrs. Onimous is a fantastic cyclist."

Charlie was about to say that Norton Cross, the Pets' Cafe doorman, owned a motorcycle.

But the idea that Norton could have caused the accident was preposterous.

Just as Charlie was going into his French class, he was roughly pulled aside. "I want a word with you," said Manfred Bloor.

"But I'll be late for Fr -" Charlie began.

"Not now," said Manfred. "Come to the King's room five minutes before homework."

"Yes, sir." Charlie eased himself out of Manfred's painful grip and rushed into the French room. Madame Tessier was about to begin the lesson and111Charlie was lucky to avoid her beady French eye, as he snuck to his desk at the back.

For the rest of the day Charlie's thoughts kept turning to his forthcoming meeting with Manfred. The headmaster's son was now the talents master. He'd been head boy when Charlie entered the school a year and a half ago. A head boy who used his hypnotic power to terrorize the younger students. Charlie had been one of his victims. But gradually, Manfred's power had waned until Charlie had begun to feel almost safe looking into those coal-black eyes. And yet, today, he'd noticed an odd glint in Manfred's gaze, and he began to dread the evening ahead.

"What's wrong, Charlie?" asked Fidelio. "Don't you want your fish cakes?"

Charlie shook his head. "You can have them. I feel kind of queasy."

They were sitting at one of the long tables that ran the length of the dining hall. Dinner had been particularly good. Fish cakes with broccoli and cheese.112All around Charlie there were murmurs of approval and enjoyment. "Mmm," "Yum-yum," "Ahhh!" Plates were scraped and one or two surreptitiously licked. But Charlie had lost his appetite. His gaze constantly slid to the staff table on the dais at the end of the room, where Manfred sat between Mr. Paltry, woodwinds, and Mrs. Marlowe, drama.

"Charlie! Charlie!" Charlie gradually became aware that Billy, on his other side, was whispering to him.

"What did you say?" asked Charlie.

Billy, trying not to move his lips, whispered, "Mrs. Tilpin is still here."

Fidelio overheard him. "Do you mean Joshua's mom. The witch?"

"Shhh!" begged Billy. "I'm already in trouble. They said I was spying on them."

"Who?" said Charlie.

"Dorcas, Dagbert, and the twins, and Joshua, of course. They were in this dark old room in the basement. And then Manfred came in." Billy threw113a frightened glance at the staff table. "I think something's going on between them - Mrs. Tilpin and Manfred, I mean."

Charlie gave a moan. "Manfred wants to see me alone after supper."

"I'll come with you, if you like," Fidelio offered.

"You can't," said Charlie mournfully. "You're not endowed. I've got to meet him in the King's room, and you won't be allowed anywhere near it."

Fidelio grimaced. "Oh, well. He can't eat you, Charlie."

"Maybe not," said Charlie, "but I've got a feeling he can hypnotize me."

It was no good trying to put off the meeting. Charlie knew he would only get detention if he was late. After dinner, he collected his books from his desk and trudged up to the King's room. Theother endowed children will be arriving very soon,he thought,so Manfred might not have time to do anything too unpleasant.114In a circular room on the third floor, a portrait of the Red King hung between shelves of ancient-looking books.

The king's features could barely be discerned in the cracked and darkened paint, but a gold crown glinted on his black hair, and his red cloak fell around him in soft, velvetlike folds.

"Charlie Bone," said Manfred as Charlie sidled through the tall black doors. Manfred was standing opposite Charlie, on the other side of a large round table. "Sit down, Charlie!"

he commanded.

Charlie took the nearest chair and sat down, facing Manfred. The talents master continued to stand, and Charlie immediately felt at a disadvantage.

"Why didn't you invite Billy Raven home with you last weekend?" asked Manfred.

Charlie struggled to understand why he was being asked such a simple question. What was behind it?

"Have you had a fight with Billy?" Manfred persisted.

"No," said Charlie.

"You always invite Billy home." Manfred put his115hands on the table and bent forward.

"So what went wrong?"

"I... nothing." Charlie was thoroughly confused. "I just forgot."

"You FORGOT?"

Was it a crime, forgetting to ask a friend home? Now Charlie was suspicious.

"You won't forget next time, will you, Charlie?" Manfred's eyes glinted. The coal-black irises were quartered with flicks of blazing light.

Charlie felt an intense pain in the center of his forehead. Why is Manfred doing this? he wondered. He doesn't have to hypnotize me. I would have asked Billy home next weekend, anyway. Having to resist Manfred's gaze made Charlie angry. It had happened before and Charlie had discovered that he could block the hypnotist. He had to look beyond the black glare and into the mind of Manfred Bloor.

Images swam before Charlie's eyes: a knight in a green cloak; a stone troll; and, last of all, far, far out on a furious gray sea, the sail of a tiny boat.116"No!" cried Charlie. The pain in his head increased. He thought he could bear it no longer. He would have to let go.

"You will... ," came the words. "You will ..."

"Will...?" Charlie murmured. He felt his head sinking forward. And then another image cut through the darkness in his head: a knight on a white horse, red feathers streaming from his silver helmet, and a sword whose blade flashed like a ray of the sun.

The dark figure on the other side of the table began to sink. Charlie heard a distant roar, and then the doors behind him opened, and he was surrounded by moving, murmuring forms. Charlie sat up and rubbed his eyes.

"You OK, Charlie?" asked Tancred, taking the seat beside him.

"Yes," said Charlie confidently. "I'm great." He looked across at Manfred, who had dropped into a chair. His head lolled forward as though he were asleep.117Dorcas and the twins clustered around the talents master. Joshua tapped his shoulder and Manfred lifted

his head. He clutched the edge of the table and pulled himself to his feet. "Get started on your homework," he said. His speech was thick and slurred. Avoiding Charlie's eye, Manfred limped out of the room.

Dorcas, Joshua, and the twins took their usual places opposite Charlie. A few moments later, Emma, Lysander, and Gabriel arrived and sat beside one another, beyond Tancred.

Billy rushed in and headed straight for the empty place on Charlie's right. The small boy seemed nervous and even more disorganized than usual. Books kept falling out of his grasp, his glasses slipped off his nose, and reaching for them, his chair tipped sideways and he fell onto the floor.

Charlie had no doubt that the Branko twins were responsible. They often tormented Billy with their kinetic powers. He was an easy victim. Dorcas and Joshua began to snicker.118"Pathetic!" Lysander glared at the twins. "Is that how you get your kicks?

Tormenting people who can't defend themselves? Try it on me, Idith. Come on, Inez, knock MY chair over."

The twins lowered their eyes and opened their books. The ghostly African warriors that Lysander could call up were not something that they wanted to contest.

Dagbert Endless came in late. He sat alone, halfway between each group. "Where's the talents master?" he asked.

"He got sick," said Dorcas, "when Charlie Bone was with him."

"Is that so?" Dagbert looked at Charlie with interest.119CHAPTER 6

THE POISONED NET

T he long, cold dormitory with its single dim light had become so familiar to Charlie that he almost felt at home. But tonight he found it impossible to sleep. On one side of him, Fidelio hummed in his dreams, and on the other, Billy Raven twisted and moaned in a tangle of bed covers.

"Billy, are you awake?" Charlie whispered.

Billy stopped moving and sat up. "I'm worried about Rembrandt," he said. "Who's going to look after him?"

"You heard Olivia. She said Mrs. Onimous wasn't injured. She'll be back at the Pets' Cafe right now, I bet."

"But Mr. Onimous? He ... he must be..." Billy's voice trailed off.

"We'll ask Cook about it in the morning," said Charlie. "She'll know." He closed his eyes and turned over,120and then he found himself asking, "Do you want to come home with me next weekend?"

"Of course I do," said Billy.

"That's settled, then."

Fidelio had drifted out of his musical dream and slumbered peacefully. Billy lay quiet and still, at last, and Charlie should have found it easy to sleep. But another problem had presented itself.

Why was Manfred so eager for Billy to visit Charlie's home? Did it have something to do with the painting of Badlock? Charlie realized he had told Billy nothing about the painting. Billy's concern for his rat had put it out of Charlie's mind.

The soft light of his white moth flickered above Charlie, and he was glad she had followed him to school. As he watched Claerwen loop and swing through the darkness, he began to feel drowsy, but as he finally fell asleep, a voice in his head seemed to be warning him: Don't let Billy go into Badlock.

From a bed at the end of Charlie's row, Dagbert Endless followed the white moth's dance across the121ceiling. He put his hand under his pillow and brought out a small golden fish and five tiny golden crabs. Clutching them in his fist, he murmured, "Sea gold," and a smile crept into his face.

The bare walls of the dormitory were bathed in blue-green colors, veined with rippling silver light. As the watery shades washed above him, Dagbert thought of his mother. She had given him the sea-gold creatures a month before her death. She had found the gold in wrecks so deep they had been declared forever lost. But not to her. For Dagbert's mother was a merwoman, as much at home in the sea as in the castle her husband had built for her. She made the gold into rings and bracelets and golden chains. But the five crabs and the fish were special charms to give her gifted son a power that would exceed his father's.

There was also a golden sea urchin somewhere in Tancred Torsson's possession. The storm boy had stolen it to weaken Dagbert's power.

When Dagbert was five years old, his mother had been caught in a net and crushed to death beneath a122ton of fish, creatures she had always considered her friends.

Dagbert let the sea-gold charms trickle between his fingers. The loss of his sea urchin angered him. Its theft was a slur on his mother's memory. But watching Charlie Bone's moth had given him an idea. Manfred Bloor wanted that white moth; without her Charlie Bone couldn't travel. But if Dagbert caught the moth, he would be helping himself as well. Tancred would surely return the charm in exchange for Charlie's moth.Dorcas Loom will make me a net. She's clever with her fingers. We'll soon see who's the strongest, thought Dagbert.

The following day Charlie found an opportunity to tell Billy about Runner Bean.

He watched Billy wander up to the top of the field and began to follow him. Billy often wandered up to the ruined castle in the woods. He felt safe behind the massive red stone walls, with the open sky for a roof and the comforting sense that the Red King and his queen might still be close.123Charlie found Billy sitting on a stone seat between two of the five arches that led deeper into the castle. The white-haired boy was staring at a huge flagstone that was cracked down the center and bordered with fresh earth. When Charlie approached, Billy said, "That is where Mrs. Tilpin found the mirror, isn't it?"

Charlie looked at the stone. "Yes. Where the shadow buried it."

"D'you think she'll try to use it again to bring the shadow back?"

"Yes, I do." Charlie sat beside Billy. "There's something you've got to know, Billy."

"Oh?" Billy's claret-colored eyes widened with anticipation. "Have you been picture-traveling again?"

"How did you guess?"

"You look like you have. I didn't notice before; I was thinking about Rembrandt so much.

I still haven't seen Cook."

"Your rat's going to be OK," said Charlie. "Look, Billy, you've got to know everything that happened124last weekend, and I might not get another chance to tell you before Friday."

"I want to know," said Billy.

So Charlie told Billy everything: from the moment he heard the wind sighing out of the painting, to the appearance of Runner Bean in Badlock. Billy shuffled and gasped; he pulled his hood up and hunched himself down, as though he were trying to block out Charlie's words yet was desperate to hear more. When Charlie described how he had

escaped from the painting with Claerwen's help, Billy gave a sigh of relief and said,

"That's alright, then. But you'd better not go near that painting again, Charlie."

"It's not all right," said Charlie. "I couldn't get Runner Bean out. He's stuck in that awful place, and none of us knows how to..."

"Can you see him?" asked Billy.

"Yes. It's horrible. He's howling."

"Maybe I can, kind of, connect with him," Billy suggested.125Charlie hesitated. "It might be dangerous for you, Billy."

Billy was silent for a while. He swung his legs and looked through the great arch to where distant figures could be seen running over the field. "Benjamin must be upset," he said.

"He is," Charlie admitted. "I don't think he'll talk to me until I've rescued his dog."

Billy looked thoughtful. "I can still come home with you, Charlie, can't I? Even if I don't look at the painting?"

"Of course you can."

As they left the ruins, Charlie's moth fluttered out of his pocket and settled on his shoulder.

"We'll be OK if your moth's with us," Billy said with a grin.

Charlie didn't reply. Claerwen had saved him from Badlock, but she hadn't managed to do the same for Runner Bean.

When the sound of the horn blew across the grounds,126the boys began to run back to the school. Neither of them saw Dagbert Endless moving out of the trees, close to the castle entrance.

Charlie's trumpet lesson always finished early. Sehor Alvaro now taught all the brass band students and was generally very successful. He was young and cheerful, with an interesting mustache and smiling, almond-shaped eyes. In Sehor Alvaro's opinion, Charlie could have played the trumpet tolerably well, if he put his mind to it. But the boy with riotous hair seemed unable to concentrate.

Today Charlie was happy to be released ten minutes before lunch.

"Do you think it eez possible you spare some time to practice this week?" asked Sehor Alvaro pleasantly.

"Urn, yes, sir," said Charlie, who was already wondering how he could get a moment alone with Cook.

"Gracias," called Sehor Alvaro as Charlie pounded down the hallway.127Finding Cook was not as difficult as Charlie had imagined. She was sitting at one of the tables in the blue cafeteria, having a cup of tea with a white-haired, robust-looking man: Dr.

Saltweather.

"A bit early for lunch, aren't we, Charlie Bone?" Dr. Saltweather remarked. "Shouldn't you still be in class?"

"Sehor Alvaro let me go; I hadn't practiced enough," Charlie confessed.

Dr. Saltweather sighed. He was head of music and felt responsible for Charlie's lack of progress. Charlie's father was the cathedral organist and a brilliant musician, but Charlie seemed to have inherited none of his father's talent. Dr. Saltweather was aware of Charlie's extraordinary endowment, however, and had a certain amount of sympathy for the boy.

"I wanted to ask Cook about Mr. Onimous," said Charlie.

"Mr. Onimous?" Cook's rosy face took on an anxious look. "He's not too well, Charlie.

He's in the hospital.128Concussion. Poor Mrs. Onimous is beside herself."

"And... and the animals?" asked Charlie.

"Well, the Flames can look after themselves," Cook said confidently, "and you can tell Billy that his rat is quite safe. He's with Mrs. Kettle."

"And the boa?" said Charlie.

"Same place, Charlie. The Kettle Shop."

Dr. Saltweather stood up and pushed in his chair. "I hear the Pets' Cafe has been closed,"

he said.

Cook nodded. "My poor friends. Councillor Loom was responsible."

"That's terrible." Dr. Saltweather strode toward the door. "Something must be done about it," he boomed.

The music teacher's commanding tone gave Charlie a surge of hope. "D'you think Dr.

Saltweather can do something about the cafe?" he asked Cook.

"He'll certainly try. But he'll be up against some pretty powerful people, and I wouldn't like him to put himself in danger." Cook carried the two129mugs to the counter and Charlie followed with the teapot and two empty plates. "There are certain people in this city who've been just waiting to finish off the Pets' Cafe." Cook went on, "They don't like you children meeting up on the weekend and hatching plots."

"We don't hatch plots," Charlie said indignantly.

"No? Think about it, Charlie. Oh, I know your plots are all for the best reasons, but they don't like it."

"But the Pets' Cafe is a good place, Cook. It's a happy place. Where else can pets meet and enjoy great food? It's not just useful to us; hundreds of people love it."

"You don't have to tell me, Charlie." Cook lifted the lid from a pan of fish stew on the counter and sniffed. "I'd better check the kitchen and see what my lunch ladies are up to."

Charlie stood by the counter, patiently waiting for someone to come and ladle out the stew. Other music students began to arrive and by the time130one of the lunch ladies turned up, a long line had formed behind Charlie.

Once he had been served, Charlie went to his favorite table in the corner of the cafeteria.

Before long, he was joined by Gabriel, Billy, and Fidelio. The stew was soon gone, and as they lined up for their dessert, Fidelio remarked that Dagbert Endless was missing.

"Probably ate too much fish over the weekend," Gabriel remarked.

Charlie wouldn't have laughed so heartily if he had known what Dagbert was up to. In fact, he wouldn't have laughed at all.

It wasn't until the end of homework that Charlie began to miss his moth. She often disappeared for a few hours; maybe she slept in the folds of a curtain or nestled behind a picture frame. Charlie never knew. But in the evening she would usually flutter onto his arm or his shoulder, as if she were reassuring him that she was near, and then she would fly off again.131This time, Claerwen's absence worried Charlie. As he left the King's room, he asked Billy if he had seen the moth.

"Not since she was on your arm this morning," said Billy.

Gabriel hadn't seen her, nor had Emma.

"She'll turn up," said Lysander. "Probably eating a spider somewhere."

"Or being eaten by a bat," said Tancred.

Lysander dug him in the ribs. "Cut it out, Tanc. Charlie loves that moth."

Dagbert Endless passed them silently. Charlie noticed that he wore a slight smile. Had he been listening to their conversation?

Dagbert didn't go straight to the dormitory, like the others. He slipped down the main staircase and crossed the hall.

Dr. Saltweather chose that moment to leave the staff room. "Where do you think you're going, Dagbert Endless?" he demanded.132"I've got to show the talents master some work," Dagbert said casually.

"Be quick about it, then," said Dr. Saltweather. "It'll be lights-out in fifteen minutes."

"Yes, sir." Dagbert ran down the passage to his classroom. He went to a desk at the back of the room and opened the lid. Inside the desk lay something resembling a fine white handkerchief. Dorcas had done her work well. On Dagbert's instructions, she had gone to the sewing room during lunch and had quickly woven a nice little net. It was made of the finest muslin and fixed to a long bamboo cane, helpfully provided by Weedon. Just to make sure the net would do what Dagbert intended, Dorcas had dipped the muslin in the juice of a rare herb: still-wort. She had never used the herb before and was interested to see if it would work.

It had worked very well. The moth inside the net lay so still it appeared to be dead.

"Did you catch it?" Dorcas peered around the door.

132133"It was easy," said Dagbert. "I've taken it off the pole. Come and look."

Dorcas crept over to Dagbert's desk. He picked up the muslin net and laid it across his palms. Inside the net the white moth's wings rose and fell, just once, as though it were taking its last breath.

"It's not dead, then," said Dorcas, disappointment clouding her plump face.

"It will be soon," Dagbert told her. He laid the net on his desk and went to the supply cabinet, where Mr. Carp, the English teacher, kept a thick glass jar.

Dagbert brought the jar over to his desk and eased the opening of the net around the top of the glass. The white moth fell in.

"There," said Dagbert. "Now I'll take it to Manfred."

"You will tell him I helped, won't you?" said Dorcas. "I mean, I did make the net and the poison and everything."

"Of course I'll tell him, Dorc. You're a genius, you know that?"134"Yes, I do." A smile dimpled her cheeks.

Dagbert covered the jar with the muslin and carried it to the door. Dorcas rushed to open it for Dagbert, who sailed through with a muttered "Thanks" and continued across the hall. Dorcas flew ahead of him and opened the small, ancient door that led to the west wing.

"You will tell him, won't you?" begged Dorcas again,

"I said I would," Dagbert replied, stepping into the dark passage behind the door. "Better get to bed, Dorc, or Matron'll come down on you."

"And Manfred will tell Fairy Tilpin about me, won't he?" Dorcas went on. "She'll be so pleased."

"YES!" Dagbert gave the door a backward kick and it slammed in Dorcas's face.

Students seldom went to the west wing. It was home to the Bloor family, and they didn't like staff or children intruding. At the far end of the hall, a dim light could be seen in the room at the base of the music tower. Dagbert made his way toward the light.135The

walls on either side of him gave off the damp, earthy smell of old brick, and moss grew in the cracked slate floor.

Halfway down the passage, a bookcase stood in a small recess. Holding the jar tight against his body with his left hand, Dagbert used his right to remove two books from a shelf. He knocked on the bare wood behind them.

"Who is it?" called a voice.

"Dagbert, sir. I've got something to show you."

"Oh, yes," said Manfred in a bored voice.

"A moth."

"A moth?" Manfred sounded more interested now. "You'd better come in."

The bookcase swung back, revealing a small study. Manfred Bloor was sitting behind a desk where green bottles, earthenware jars, rusty tins, and wads of yellowing papers had been set out in groups.

"I hope it's THE moth, Dagbert Endless." Manfred beckoned Dagbert over. "I'm extremely busy, as you can see."136"It is the right moth, sir." Dagbert turned the jar over in his hands and laid it upside down before Manfred. Now the moth's wings were barely distinguishable from the white muslin beneath her.

Manfred peered through the thick glass. "You're sure?"

"See the silver on its wings? I know it's Charlie's. I caught it in the hallway of portraits.

Thought it was so clever lying on a bunch of painted white lilies. Thought it wouldn't be seen." Dagbert wrinkled his nose. "Funny-looking person in that portrait."

Manfred gave him an icy look. "The person in that portrait was my great-great-great-grandmother, Donatella, a very brave woman. She was accidentally electrocuted in an experiment."

"Sorry," said Dagbert.

"Did anyone help you to do this?" Manfred tapped the jar.

"No, sir." Dagbert felt Manfred's black eyes boring into his, and he had to steady himself against137the desk. "That is - only Dorcas. She made the poisoned net."

"That girl has extraordinary talent," Manfred said with satisfaction. "You can go now, Dagbert." He stood up and pointed to the door.

"About the moth," said Dagbert. "I know you want it so Charlie Bone can't travel safely, but I didn't catch it just for that."

"No?" Manfred looked at the trapped moth.

"No, I want to bargain with it. Tancred Torsson stole my sea urchin, and without it I can't... can't..."

"Drown people?" Manfred suggested.

"Not exactly." Dagbert frowned. "I'm just not myself without all my sea-gold creatures."

"Oh, I can deal with Tancred Torsson," said Manfred. "Don't worry, I'll return the moth when I've studied it a little. But make sure Charlie Bone never gets it." He waved a hand at Dagbert. "Now, off you go, and keep an eye on Charlie."138Charlie was standing in the bathroom, feeling very queasy. He wondered if someone had poisoned him. He clung to the sink while the room spun around him. First one way, then the other.

"You OK, Charlie?"

A voice broke through the buzz in Charlie's head. He turned painfully and saw Fidelio standing by the bathroom door.

"I feel a bit funny," said Charlie. He staggered through the door and Fidelio helped him to his bed.

Dagbert Endless came in and stood staring down at Charlie. "Not feeling well?" he asked.

Charlie looked away from Dagbert's startling sea-colored eyes. He felt his strength leaving him. He was so weak he could barely lift his arm. Vague forms moved through the mist that clouded his vision, and he heard Fidelio say, "Matron, Charlie's sick."

The matron's words came booming close to his ear, a deep, indistinct, underwater sound.

"Faking it, are you, Charlie? There's nothing a good night's sleep won't cure."139The light went out. Charlie lay in the darkness while familiar images tumbled into his head: a knight in a green cloak, a stone troll, and a furious gray sea. But the leopards were absent and so was the knight with red feathers streaming from his silver helmet. And all that remained of the boat was the tip of its mast, sinking slowly into a heaving sea. And then Charlie saw Claerwen, lying in a glass tomb, while the silver sparkle drained from her white wings. With all that remained of his strength, Charlie raised himself onto his elbows and cried, "CLAERWEN!"

Every sleeping boy in the dormitory was now wide awake. Others, who had not yet fallen asleep, began to shout out.

"Shut up!"

"What's he going on about?"

"He's off his rocker!"

One of the first years sniveled, "What's the matter with him?" Someone else burst into tears.

"Calm down, everyone," said Fidelio.140"Charlie's just had a nightmare. It can happen to anyone. Are you OK now, Charlie?"

Charlie sat up. The buzzing in his head had gone. The dizziness had passed. He felt almost like his old self again. "Yes, I'm OK, thanks. I feel great, actually."

Manfred Bloor had put away his great-great-greatgrandfather's tins of desiccated snails, his bottles of aspen oil and monkey tears, his jars of seaweed and nightshade, and the sheaves of yellowing paper covered in beautiful looping script. Manfred had hoped they might be put to use sealing the crack in the Mirror of Amoret, but there was nothing in Bertram Bloor's notes about the fixing of mirrors. He was more concerned with creation, with resurrection and revival.

Manfred locked the door of his ancestor's carved oak cabinet and slipped the key into his pocket. Returning to his desk, he began to study the moth in her glass jar. "I have you now, moth, wand, whatever you are."141The moth appeared to be fading. Its silvered wings had lost their sparkle, its soft head looked crumpled.

"Dead," Manfred pronounced. "But we can still use you."

A small sound came from the glass. A tiny clink. Manfred sat back. Half-closing his eyes, he scanned the jar for a fracture, a minute flaw. He was about to look closer when, with a deafening crack, the jar burst apart. A dozen gleaming shards flew straight at the window.

The thick pieces shattered the pane and glass fell in a shower, onto the cobblestones outside.

The bed of white muslin lay empty on Manfred's desk. The moth had gone.142CHAPTER 7

AN EVIL WIND

Charlie heard a voice screaming in the courtyard below the dormitory. Leaping out of bed, he ran to the window. There were already several boys pressed up against the pane.

"It's the talents master," said an excited first year.

"Look at all the glass," another boy observed.

"Someone's thrown a brick through the window," said Bragger Braine, a large second year.

"Idiot," muttered Dagbert. "The glass would be on the inside, not the outside, if that had happened."

"You think you're so clever, don't you?" twittered Rupe Small, Bragger Braine's devoted slave.

A glistening quilt of broken glass lay across the courtyard. Manfred moved slowly around it, kicking the glass with his toe, then squatting down and poking the fragments with a pencil. "Weedon!" he shouted again. "Come here, this minute!"143The headmaster, Dr.

Bloor, opened one of the windows above Manfred's study. "What on earth's going on?"

he shouted.

"Look!" screamed Manfred, getting to his feet. "Look at all this!" He threw out an arm, indicating the broken glass.

"How did it happen?" demanded his father.

Charlie saw Manfred hesitate. Whatever it was that had caused the accident, it was going to remain Manfred's secret, for the time being. "How should I know!" he shouted, his voice taking on a hysterical note.

"I suppose it was one of your experiments," said Dr. Bloor.

"It was NOT!" shrieked Manfred. "Where's Weedon?"

"He's tidying my study. Where else should he be?" Dr. Bloor suddenly caught sight of the faces in the dormitory window. "Get back to bed!" he bellowed. "Or you'll all get detention."

There was a frantic scramble away from the window.144Twelve boys bounced back onto their beds and drew the covers over their heads. They waited for Matron to storm in, but tonight she had other things on her mind.

Claerwen lay hidden in the rotting leaves between two flat cobblestones. She made herself as small as she could while Weedon swept up the glass fragments that covered her. He groaned with fatigue as he bent and brushed the tiny shards into his dustpan.

"Put it all in here, Weedon." Manfred held out a clear plastic bag.

"Wot you gonner do with it?" asked Weedon. "Make one of them installation art things?"

"Never mind," snapped Manfred, who was doing his own bit of sweeping. "And let me know if you see anything unusual."

"Wot sort of unusual?"

"Oh, you know," Manfred said impatiently. "Anything that isn't glass: a fly maybe, or a moth."

"Ah!" grunted Weedon. "Now I get it."145The janitor continued to sweep for another half hour, but the temperature was falling fast, and soon the cobblestones began to sparkle with frost.

"It's no good, Mr. Manfred," Weedon grumbled. "I can't tell glass from frost. I'm giving up." He poured his final haul into the plastic bag and went through a door into the west tower.

Manfred straightened up, rubbing his back. His leg still ached from the wounds the leopards had given him. But he wasn't prepared to give up just yet. He refused to believe the moth had escaped him entirely. Limping around the edge of the courtyard he stared at each and every cobblestone; not one eluded his piercing, coal-eyed gaze.

Claerwen waited. She might have been a dead thing: the vein of a leaf, a thread of grass.

When Manfred had given up his search at last, she crawled out of her hiding place and moved toward the wall of the chapel. There she lay, in the pool of bright colors that fell from the stained-glass window.146She knew she must reach Charlie before he was tempted to travel again, but the route to his dormitory was steep and perilous for the tiny caterpillar that she had become. To escape Manfred, Claerwen had changed shape once more. It would take her some time to become a moth again. No matter. She would find a way to reach him.

On Friday afternoon, when the children went to pack their bags for home, Claerwen was still missing.

Charlie had used every spare minute to search for his moth, but there was no sign of her.

And then, as he and Billy lined up behind the great oak doors, waiting for Weed on to open them, Tancred came flying up behind Charlie and whispered, "Charlie, Dagbert says he's got your moth."

"What!" Letting his bag fall to the floor, Charlie swung around and searched the line of students behind him.147"He's not here," said Tancred. "He's having an extra lesson with the talents master."

"I don't care where he is," Charlie said loudly.

"Shhh! You'll get detention," Tancred warned. "Wait till we're outside."

Weedon had appeared. Puffing and groaning, he drew back the huge iron bolts and rattled the oversize key in the lock. At last the doors were open and the sullen janitor stood aside while students swept past him and out into freedom.

The three buses were waiting in the square. Charlie stood by the steps as the other music students climbed ahead of him onto the blue bus. When Tancred appeared, Charlie grabbed his arm.

"So where's my moth, then?"

"I told you" - Tancred hitched his green cape further onto his shoulders - "Dagbert said he'd got it. He's offered to swap it for his sea urchin."

"What d'you mean?" cried Charlie.

Striding toward the green bus, Tancred said,148"I mean that he'll exchange your moth for that gold charm I took the night he tried to drown you."

"So when are you going to swap it?" Charlie dogged Tancred's steps until they reached the green bus.

"That's just it, Charlie. I don't think I can let him have his sea urchin. He's not as dangerous without it." Tancred began to climb into the bus.

"You've got to!" Charlie leaped onto the bottom step.

"You'll miss your bus," Tancred told him. "Get off quickly, Charlie. This one goes in the wrong direction."

"I don't care."

"We'll find another way to get your moth," said Tancred as he moved to the back of the bus.

"Get off, blue cape," ordered the driver, "or I'll get the school janitor to remove you."

Charlie jumped off the step as the green bus rumbled out of the square. His own bus had already started moving, and he only just managed to catch it.149He was hauled inside by Gabriel and Fidelio and lay in the aisle breathing heavily, while the driver complained about kids who didn't have the sense they were born with.

Gabriel lifted Charlie's bag onto the rack as Charlie pulled himself to his feet and fell into the seat beside Fidelio.

"What's going on?" Billy's anxious face peered around the back of Charlie's seat.

"Tell you later," said Charlie, sinking back. He turned to Fidelio and whispered,

"Dagbert's got my moth, but he's offered to swap it for something Tancred took."

Fidelio stared at Charlie. "I wish there was somewhere we could all meet. I've got rehearsals with the youth orchestra all weekend, but I'll be free on Sunday night. What are you going to do now that the Pets' Cafe is closed?"

From the seat behind them, Gabriel said, "Get the cafe to open again. I'm going to see Mr.

Onimous."

"But he's ... ," Charlie began.150"Not dead yet," said Gabriel solemnly.

The bus meandered around the city while children jumped off at their stops and disappeared into the dusk. The streetlights had come on, but even they couldn't penetrate the dark, winding alleys that led off High Street.

Gabriel lived on the Heights, a steep cliff road that overlooked the city. He was usually the first to leave the bus, getting off at a stop at the bottom of the cliff road, but today he waited until they reached the narrow street that led to the Pets' Cafe.

"My mom will be there," he said. "She wouldn't leave Mrs. Onimous on her own after everything that's happened."

Charlie watched Gabriel turn onto Frog Street and begin to run. Of all of them, Gabriel was probably the closest to the Onimouses. His mother helped in the cafe, and his large family of gerbils was always welcome there.

Charlie and Billy got off the bus at the top of151Filbert Street and walked down to number nine. As they drew closer, Charlie saw Benjamin standing on the top step of number twelve. He was staring across the road at Charlie's house. As soon as he saw Charlie, he went inside and slammed his front door.

Charlie sighed. "He's not going to speak to me until he sees Runner Bean again."

"Maybe I could just take a look at the painting," said Billy.

"Forget it, Billy. If you got caught in Badlock, I'd never get you out. Not without Claerwen." And then Charlie thought of the giant. Without Claerwen he could never reach his ancestor again.

The two boys stepped into the hall and headed straight for the kitchen. Maisie was cooking something that smelled so delicious their mouths were already watering.

Unfortunately, Maisie wasn't the only person in the kitchen. Grandma Bone sat in the rocking chair beside the stove.152"Ahh!" Grandma Bone's grim face broke into a smile.

"Billy Raven, at last. I wondered when you would be coming to see us again."

"Hello, Mrs. Bone," Billy said nervously.

"Hang your capes in the hall, boys." Grandma Bone pointed to the door. "And take your bags upstairs. We don't like bringing the outdoors into our cozy kitchen, do we, Maisie?"

"Doesn't bother me," said Maisie, heaving a large dish out of the oven.

Grandma Bone scowled at her. "Nevertheless." She waved the boys away.

"Maisie, has Runner Bean... ?" Charlie began.

"As far as I know, nothing has come out of that cellar," said Maisie. "Your other grandma could maybe tell you if she's seen anything."

"Boys, your capes," barked Grandma Bone.

Billy backed into the hall and Charlie followed, just managing to stop himself from saying something rude. Hanging their blue capes on the coat stand, the153boys rushed upstairs, dumped their bags in Charlie's room, and ran down to the kitchen.

"Set the table, Charlie," Grandma Bone ordered, rocking her chair back and forth. She seemed excited about something.

Charlie dutifully set the table for five.

"Four," said his grandmother. "Your uncle Paton's not here, thank goodness. Eating by candlelight gives me indigestion."

Charlie removed a set of knives and forks, and they all sat down while Maisie brought her lamb casserole to the table and began to ladle it out. It was just as delicious as Charlie had hoped, but the meal was spoiled by Grandma Bone's looming presence; by the slurping noise she made, the rumbling of her stomach, and the way she darted quick looks at everyone else's plate.

The meal was almost over when Charlie heard a large vehicle maneuvering on the road outside. Through the gap in the curtains he could see that a154white camper van had parked in front of the kitchen window. He was surprised when Uncle Paton jumped out, quickly slammed the door, and rushed toward the house, his black fedora pulled well down over his face. Charlie crossed his fingers and watched the streetlight. It didn't explode.

"Phew!" Charlie exclaimed as the front door banged.

"Can someone please turn out the lights?" Uncle Paton called from the hall.

Maisie obligingly lit the candles while Charlie sprang for the light switch.

"Where on earth have you been all week?" Grandma Bone demanded as Paton came in.

Ignoring her question, Uncle Paton said, "Something smells good." He placed a well-worn briefcase beside the door and pulled a chair up to the table.

"I asked you a question," said Grandma Bone.

"So you did, Grizelda." Paton rubbed his hands together as Maisie put a steaming dish of lamb before him.155"And I see no reason to answer you. What I do is my business."

"Research! Research!" snarled his sister, leaving the table. "Poking your nose into other people's affairs. Where d'you think that will get you?"

"Personally, nowhere, dear sister. Though what I unearth may be of great benefit to others." Paton glanced at Billy Raven.

He turned to Charlie. "Has the dog appeared yet, Charlie?"

Charlie shook his head. "Runner's still stuck."

"But I might be able to talk to him," said Billy.

Paton frowned. "Not you, Billy." He began to eat his lamb.

"But maybe..." Billy leaned forward eagerly.

"No," said Uncle Paton firmly. "We'll find another way. Though I confess, in my research I have yet to come across any mention of dogs caught in paintings."

Charlie watched his grandmother march to the door. Here she hesitated, her right hand almost on156the light switch. He could see that she was hugely tempted to turn on the lamp hanging above the table. If she did, Paton would be bound to shower himself and his meal with shattered glass. But she resisted and, with a resigned shrug, left the room.

"What exactly is your research, Mr. Yewbeam?" asked Billy.

"Ah, my research." Uncle Paton smiled, almost to himself. "I am writing a history of our family, Billy. The Yewbeams. But digging and delving into the past has led me deep into the lives of others. There isn't another city in the country like this one, you know. It was built by a magician, for one thing, and a king at that. The magic, good and bad, is now part of the fabric of the place. It is like a seam that runs through the soil, the rock and clay, the marl and loam beneath our feet."

Maisie uttered a soft "tsk!" She shook her head and said, "Was it really necessary to buy a big van, Paton?"157"Our ancestors litter the country," was Paton's reply. "I've been traveling to graveyards, libraries, historic homes, council offices, you name it. At nightfall, I often find myself far from home. I could hardly go to a hotel, with all those lights. My only option would be to sleep on a park bench."

"And get mugged," said Billy.

"Mugged, indeed. Exactly, Billy." Paton scooped up his last mouthful, declared it to be the best casserole he'd ever tasted, and sat back with a sigh of contentment.

"And have you found out anything interesting, Mr. Yewbeam?" asked Billy.

Uncle Paton stared at Billy for a moment, as though he were deciding whether or not to confide in him. At length he replied, "I have, Billy. I have, indeed. But at present the clues are a little foggy. In time I shall unravel some of the more puzzling details, and then..." He paused. "And then, lives will be changed - dramatically."158Charlie got the impression that his uncle's words were meant for Billy alone, and that it was his life that would be changed dramatically. Had Uncle Paton discovered something about Billy's parents?

Uncle Paton would say no more about his research. Changing the subject, he asked Maisie whether anything had happened to the painting while he'd been away.

"You don't think I've looked in the cellar, do you?" she retorted. "After what happened to the poor dog. Anyway, your sister keeps the door locked."

"Just wondered, you know, if you'd heard a bark, or a whine... anything," said Uncle Paton.

"No." Maisie collected the dishes and carried them to the sink. "But I have seen Benjamin Brown, gazing over here as if his heart would break."

"What am I going to do?" cried Charlie, covering his face with his hands. "I'll have to try and rescue Runner Bean, even without Claerwen."159"You've lost the moth?" Uncle Paton looked concerned.

"I know where she is," said Charlie, "but I won't be able to get her back just yet."

"And why not?" asked his uncle.

"It's too complicated to explain."

Paton accepted this answer reluctantly. "Don't so much as look in that cellar until you find her. That's an order." He stood up and pushed in his chair. Bidding them all a good night's sleep, he tucked his briefcase under his arm, took a candle from the dresser, and went up to his room.

When Maisie heard Paton's door close, she turned on the kitchen light and held up a dishcloth. "OK, boys. Who's going to dry?"

Billy chose to dry, Charlie to put away. Maisie was best at cleaning the pans.

Half an hour later, as Charlie and Billy were mounting the stairs, a cold draft swept through the hall. The coats on the stand swung in the breeze; two pictures swiveled

sideways on the wall; the160doormat lifted at one end; and Uncle Paton's fedora flew up to the ceiling, turned over, and dropped to the floor.

"What was that?" Billy clung to the railing.

"Dunno." Charlie went to pick up his uncle's hat. He could hear no wind in the road outside, no doors rattled, no trees sighed. He looked down the hallway leading to the cellar. He could guess where the evil breeze was coming from, but decided not to tell Billy.

Could the shadow reach them, even here?161CHAPTER 8

DESTRUCTION IN THE KETTLE SHOP

Piminy Street ran directly behind Ingledew's Bookstore. Its leaning, Tudor buildings looked to be in danger of toppling into the street - their crooked doors were marked by arrowheads and their slate roofs rippled like waves - yet the great fire of the eighteenth century had never touched these ancient houses. According to Miss Ingledew, it was because at that time almost every house in the street had been occupied by a magician -

of one sort or another.

Piminy Street, however, was home to Mrs. Kettle, and there was nothing sinister about her. Unusual, maybe, but not threatening. She had once given Charlie a kettle that had been made five hundred years ago by her ancestor Feromel. It contained a dark liquid that could never be poured away. This timeless liquid was usually cool, but Mrs. Kettle had162warned Charlie that when the kettle felt hot to the touch, he would be in danger.

On Friday night Charlie hadn't been surprised to find the kettle so hot he could barely touch it. He felt it again as soon as he woke next morning. It had cooled a little, but was still warm.

Billy knew about Feromel's kettle. "Is it hot?" he asked.

"Not too hot." Charlie pushed the kettle under his bed.

"We'll go and fetch Rembrandt from Mrs. Kettle right after breakfast, alright?" Billy swung his legs out of bed and put on his glasses.

"Hmmm. Wish I could get hold of Tancred," said Charlie.

Neither Charlie nor Billy owned a cell phone. They weren't allowed in school, and Grandma Bone disapproved of them. Charlie didn't like the thought of speaking to Tancred from the phone in the hall with Grandma Bone listening in.163The white camper van was gone when the boys went down to breakfast.

"Your uncle must have left before dawn," said Maisie, placing large slices of bacon on each of their plates. "He's on the scent of something - goodness knows what."

After another slice of bacon and several pieces of toast and honey, Charlie and Billy set off for the Kettle Shop.

"You can always bring your rat here, Billy," said Maisie, as she let them out of the front door. "She'll never know," she added, glancing up the stairs, where Grandma Bone was having her morning gargle.

"Thanks, Mrs. Jones." Billy raced after Charlie.

Charlie was anxious to get away from number nine as fast as possible. He didn't want to see Benjamin again before he had rescued Runner Bean.

As soon as they began to walk up Piminy Street, the sense of menace that Charlie often felt there164seemed to be even stronger. He always imagined that someone was watching him from a dark window beneath the eaves.

The Kettle Shop was near a curious fish shop where there were never any fish. Before they reached the fish shop, however, they had to pass the Stone Shop. Of all the houses on Piminy Street, this was the most sinister. In the dark interior, carved stone figures brandished clubs and axes. There were stone soldiers, horses, and dogs. But the mounted knight that had once attacked the boys was gone - broken in two by the Red Knight and now lying, with his stone horse, at the bottom of the river.

"Let's keep going." Billy plucked at Charlie's jacket. "I hate that place."

Charlie's nose was almost touching the window-pane. He expected to see someone and, yes, there he was: Eric Shellhorn, Great-aunt Venetia's stepson. Charlie could just make out his face, peering from behind a tall, robed figure - a Druid, perhaps.

"I knew he'd be in there," Charlie muttered.165Billy tugged Charlie's sleeve. "Let's go, Charlie. One of those things might start moving again."

"I don't think Eric would do that in broad daylight," said Charlie.

"He might. Come on. I want to see Rembrandt."

Just before Charlie backed away from the window, he saw Eric dart across the back of the shop. "What's he going to do next, I wonder."

Billy was already racing up the road and Charlie started to follow him, but then he found himself lingering outside the fish shop. The door to this peculiar place was always closed, always locked, and yet a strong smell of fish seeped from the building, as though the very bricks were made of cod or mackerel.

This was the home of Dagbert Endless, if you could call it a home. The window above the sign was dark and grimy. The curtains were threadbare, and all that could be seen of the shop beyond the window was an empty counter in a room with walls of cracked white tiles and a floor166of mildewed slate. Charlie wrinkled his nose and walked on. By the time he had reached the Kettle Shop, Billy was inside, making his way through the kettles displayed on stands and tables all around the room.

Charlie closed the store door, which squeaked loudly on its somewhat rusty hinges, and he followed Billy through an archway into yet another room filled with kettles. But here there were four chairs, grouped around an empty table, where customers could sit and examine the ancient kettles. On a stove behind the table, a copper kettle whistled merrily.

"I knew I'd see you today, my dears." The store's owner lifted the whistling kettle and poured boiling water into a large brown teapot.

"Because of my rat," said Billy, eyeing the plate of cookies that Mrs. Kettle now placed on the table.

"Because of your rat, my dear." Mrs. Kettle was a very large, muscular woman, with a crown of smooth, copper-colored hair. She wore dark-blue coveralls and thick leather boots spotted with oil, for Mrs.167Kettle was a blacksmith first and foremost; kettle selling was merely a hobby, a front for her secret profession.

"Where is he?" Billy gazed around, hoping for a black rat to come bounding toward him.

"Guess!" said Mrs. Kettle.

"I can't, I can't," said Billy impatiently. "There are too many places for him to hide."

The blacksmith walked first one way and then another, tapping kettles as she went. She hesitated, then set off again, stopped, and pondered, rubbing her chin. "I do believe I've lost him," she said.

"No-o-o!" cried Billy.

The lid of a huge iron kettle lifted slightly and then slid to the floor with a loud clang.

They waited expectantly, but no black rat leaped out. Instead, the head of a blue snake appeared. It bobbed from side to side, and the beautiful blue feathers adorning its head fluttered like silken banners in the wind.

"Oh, I forgot the boa was here." Billy went toward the swaying head.168"He's a lovely fellow. I've gotten really attached to him," said Mrs. Kettle. "I call him Solomon; he's so wise."

Upon seeing Billy, the blue boa came slithering out of the kettle, slipped to the ground, and began to coil itself around Billy's legs. But Billy lifted the creature and gently curled it across his shoulders, all the while hissing and humming to it. The boa replied with a soft chirruping sound, like a small bird.

"It's OK," said Billy when the boa had settled. "He won't make me invisible."

"It's wonderful how you can do that, Billy, my dear," said Mrs. Kettle. "Solomon was very active before he took that little nap. Spiders, flies, beetles, even a mouse; he's been wrapping them up in his long blue coils and disappearing them all over the place."

Charlie felt something on his foot. Before his very eyes the lace on his sneaker began to disappear. "Billy, I think I've found Rembrandt. He's eating169my shoelace." Charlie lifted his foot and kicked it toward Billy.

There was a loud squeak and Billy's white hair was suddenly tugged over his face. Billy put up his hands and clasped them around what appeared to be empty air. But he could feel whiskers and fur and a long skinny tail.

"Solomon's done it to Rembrandt," said Billy, pleased to have found his rat but worried by his invisibility.

"I expect you can soon put that right," said Mrs. Kettle. "That boa would do anything for you."

Billy put the unseen rat on the floor and began to twitter at the boa on his shoulders. But Rembrandt was obviously enjoying his invisibility. Charlie felt him run over his foot, then a table shook and a kettle fell to the floor. They all followed the tiny patterings and excited squeaks through the doorway and into the store. Mrs. Kettle dropped to her knees and began to crawl among the kettle displays; the boys followed her example and the boa170joined in, slithering across the floor with a purposeful look on his scaly face. Mrs.

Kettle began to laugh. Charlie couldn't stop himself from giggling, and now even Billy began to see the funny side of things; he lay on the floor convulsing with laughter.

No one noticed the store door opening just a fraction, not enough to make it squeak. No one heard soft footsteps crossing the floor, and no one saw Eric Shellhorn slip into the store and run to the big metal door leading to Mrs. Kettle's workshop.

It all happened in less than a minute, and then the blue boa was curling itself into a knot.

There was a very loud squeal, and a black rat jumped free of Solomon's shiny coils and ran to Billy.

"Thanks, Solomon." Billy picked up the trembling rat, gave him a stroke, and slipped him into his pocket.

"A nice cup of tea is called for, my dears," said Mrs. Kettle, getting to her feet, "and maybe a cookie or two."

The boys followed her back to the table, and171Solomon slithered across the floor beside them. When Billy sat down, the boa lifted his head and began to sway. Charlie sensed that it was anxious, even fearful. It looked up at Billy and hissed.

Billy answered the boa with a light hum. "Solomon says someone came into the shop," he told the others.

"Well, there's no one here except us," said Mrs. Kettle. "Did your snake say who it was?"

"I asked him, but he didn't know."

Charlie watched the boa slide back to his home inside the big iron kettle. He felt uneasy.

The boa had no reason to lie. It was a wise and gentle snake, not a trickster.

Something made Charlie ask, "You've got the stone troll here, Mrs. Kettle, haven't you?"

"You bet I have, Charlie," Mrs. Kettle assured him. "It's been chained up in my workshop ever since it attacked that poor little girl and her father. That troll had a venom all its own, once Eric had brought it to life."172The stone troll used to stand outside Charlie's great-aunt Venetia's house. On a day Charlie would never forget, the troll had attacked Venetia's new husband and his daughter, Miranda. The poor man had been bewitched into marriage, but once he'd come to his senses, he'd left the city and taken his daughter with him. Eric had remained with his stepmother. Venetia had her own unpleasant endowment - she could bewitch her victims by treating their clothes with a magic poison.

But she dreamed of using Eric's talent to further her craving for power.

"I think I met it," Charlie said slowly, "when it was real. It was named Oddthumb."

"Met it, Charlie? The troll?" Mrs. Kettle stopped stirring her tea and fixed her amber-colored eyes on Charlie. "Would you mean - on your travels?"

"Yes," Charlie replied, and he recounted his adventure in Badlock.

The blacksmith sat in rapt attention. Only once did she lift her teacup, very slowly, to take a sip of173her rapidly cooling tea. And when Charlie had finished, she could only shake her head for a while, in mute dismay.

In the unfamiliar silence, Charlie felt a coldness pervade the shop. Was it his imagination or did the bright kettles suddenly lose some of their luster?

"The shadow's trying to come back again," Mrs. Kettle spoke almost to herself. "Lock your cellar door, Charlie, and throw away the key, before that painting captures you again."

"But Runner Bean!" Billy protested.

"You'll forget him, Billy, if you're wise," said Mrs. Kettle.

She must know that we can't do that, thought Charlie. But Mrs. Kettle looked so solemn, so weighed down with some secret trouble, he realized that her warning was in deadly earnest.

"The Stone Shop is occupied again," Mrs. Kettle said at last. "For years it has been vacant

- half-finished carvings in the yard, the statues in the store covered in cobwebs. But two days ago I heard a174hammering. Chink! Chink! Chink! Metal on stone. I left my workshop and walked down the alley behind the stores. I looked into the stonemason's yard and there he was: a fierce-looking man with a yellow mustache and a cowboy hat.

Melmott, he said his name was. But that was all he'd tell me. I fear he's the first of many."

"The first of many what?" asked Charlie.

"Magicians, my dear, for want of a better word. Once the whole street was full of them, but by the time I'd inherited this place from my grandpa, they were all gone. And now ..."

Mrs. Kettle collected the cups and took them to the sink beside the stove.

"And now what?" prompted Billy.

"And now the wickedness is coming back," said Mrs. Kettle. "It's not just Eric, it's those children at Bloor's: the drowner, the magnet, the poisoner, the hypnotist, and then there's

that witch, Mrs. Tilpin. They're all getting stronger, my dears. And people like us have got to watch out for one another. I'm the only one left on this street, boys.175The only one who can stop them, that is. And I have a strong feeling they're going to do something about it. Don't know what. But I'm on my guard."

"Mrs. Kettle, can I have a look at the troll?" asked Charlie.

"Now, do you really want to?" Mrs. Kettle glanced at the metal door, reluctant to let Charlie into her workshop.

"I just want to make sure that Oddthumb's still in there." Charlie's anxiety was growing.

Mrs. Kettle sighed, wiped her wet hands on her coveralls, and opened the metal door.

Charlie stepped in. It looked very much the same as the last time he'd been there. Bare brick walls, a dusty stone floor, and an assortment of tools hanging from a beam. The anvil stood in the center of the room, and the hum of flames could be heard behind a small iron door at the base of the chimney.

In a dark corner stood a squat stone figure. A double chain encircled its thick waist, the two ends fixed to large iron hoops fastened to the wall. Charlie176stared at the troll, his eyes gradually adjusting to the dark. Now he could see the wide fleshy nose, the thin scribble mouth, and the small gimlet eyes.

"Satisfied, Charlie?" called Mrs. Kettle.

"Yes." Charlie was about to step back when he saw a glint in the troll's left eye. Was that a blink? Mesmerized by the blink, and terrified of what it might mean, Charlie felt behind him for the door.

He was too late. There was an earsplitting crack as the troll broke free of the wall and came flying at Charlie. He ducked, with a scream, and Oddthumb sailed through the open door and into the shop.

His whole body shaking with terror, Charlie forced himself to follow the troll. He saw it making straight for Mrs. Kettle. The blacksmith didn't stand a chance. Oddthumb slammed into her head, and she sank to the floor with a groan.

Not satisfied with this, the troll began to crash against the furniture, sending kettles tumbling to the floor. Billy crawled under a table, his arms folded tight over his bent head. "No, no, no," he moaned.177"Shhh!" whispered Charlie, creeping toward Billy.

The silence that followed his whisper was so complete Charlie could almost feel the troll thinking. What would he do next? Could he see them? Could a stone troll hear or smell?

And where was he now? Charlie held his breath.

A violent crash gave away the troll's whereabouts. He had gone through the doorway into the store, and now he proceeded to crush, dent, break, and shatter every kettle in the place. The sound of iron and copper, steel, enamel, and even clay breaking apart was like nothing Charlie could ever have imagined. He wondered if the wounded blacksmith could hear the terrible destruction of her beloved kettles, and if her breaking heart might be part of the dreadful and tragic noise.

When he's broken everything he can see, he'll come hack forus, thought Charlie. He quickly crawled beneath the table where Billy was hiding. "Our only chance is to get to the workshop and lock ourselves in," he whispered. "But we'll have to take Mrs. Kettle with us.178Quick, Billy! We'd better move now while he's still busy in the store."

But Billy wouldn't move. He remained in his tightly curled huddle. Not a sound escaped him.

"Billy!" Charlie shook a clenched arm.

"Mmmm!" moaned Billy.

"Billy, we must..."

But Charlie never finished his sentence. Above the troll's noise, he distinctly heard the loud squeak of the store door. Someone was coming in.

There was a heavy thump, as though the troll had landed from a great height. And then silence.179CHAPTER 9

PURR SPELLS

T he noise made by the troll could be heard from one end of Piminy Street to the other.

Yet none of the residents had appeared at their doors. Aren't they curious? Tancred wondered. As he approached the Kettle Shop, the noise increased. He looked through the window and saw a gray lumpen thing slamming ferociously into piles of ancient kettles.

The speed of the creature's lethal work filled Tancred with an overpowering rage. He marched into the store and the troll whizzed around to face him.

From the corner of his eye Tancred saw a movement in the room beyond the door, but his gaze remained fixed on the troll. A burst of fury from the creature almost took Tancred's breath away. Using his own rage, he summoned up the wind that was always at his fingertips. Thunder rolled across the roof and a streak of lightning lit the troll's ugly features. And then came the wind. The strength of his180own power surprised Tancred. It seemed to come from a deeper place within him, a power that coursed through his body, almost as though it were drawn toward the vile creature before him. The troll's hatred was palpable, its desire for his destruction intense, for it knew that it had met a strength equal to its own.

Tancred's storm swept around the troll, sending broken kettles flying to the back of the shop. Not content, the storm boy stepped up the force of his tempest until the troll became the only thing that he could see between the curtains of his hair, caught in the wind that howled around them. And in this narrow frame the stone figure began to change. His breastplate took on the look of dull metal, his pants a straw color, his face an unhealthy sepia, and his eyes a gleaming steel gray. As Tancred fought to keep his gaze on this terrifying transformation, the image of a helmet appeared on the troll's bald head, and the hand, with a huge deformed thumb, reached for the knife wedged into his belt.181Tancred filled the wind with bolts of ice, and the hand stopped where it was.

Seconds passed. The boy and the troll were now locked in an invisible battle. When Tancred felt the troll's strength weakening, he seized his chance and aimed a rod of energy, hard as iron, straight at the troll's heart.

The troll rocked, its gray eyes flashed, and it fell to the floor. For a moment, nothing moved. The storm died to a light breeze and a curious silence filled the kettle shop. After the uproar, it was almost painful. Tancred moved cautiously toward the fallen troll. It appeared to be lifeless, drained of color.

"Tancred!" Charlie peered through the doorway. "You've finished him off!"

"Can't be sure." Tancred stepped over the broken kettles. And then he saw Mrs. Kettle, lying in the shadows. "Oh, no! Is she dead?"

"No, I can hear her breathing," Charlie said quickly.

As Tancred reached the doorway, a sound made him turn. Charlie, following his gaze, saw the troll182rock back onto its feet and shoot straight through the window. It was only then that they became aware of the small boy creeping along beside the wall.

"Hey!" shouted Tancred.

Eric Shellhorn darted him a look of smug satisfaction, reached for the door, and ran out.

"He'll go to the Stone Shop," said Charlie.

"Better wait for reinforcements before we go there," muttered Tancred. He went and knelt beside Mrs. Kettle. "I'll phone for an ambulance."

"Mrs. Kettle was afraid that something would happen to her," said Charlie. "It made me think of the stone troll. But I never saw Eric come in."

Tancred pulled out his newest cell phone. It was sleek and silver with a turquoise keyboard. He was just beginning to dial a number when his hand was caught in an iron grip and his phone snatched away.

"NO!" commanded the blacksmith.

"Mrs. Kettle! You're... you're ..." Charlie dropped to his knees beside her.183"Conscious," she said. "Barely."

"I'm sorry. I seem to have made a horrible mess." Tancred looked at the wreckage surrounding them. "I was trying to blast that awful thing out of existence."

"You saved the day, Tancred Torsson." Mrs. Kettle patted his hand. "It could have been a lot worse."

"You need to see a doctor." Tancred reached for his phone. "Please, Mrs. Kettle, let me call someone."

"No." She clutched the phone to her chest and sat up.

"That troll gave you an awful bash," Charlie remarked, staring at the purple lump on her forehead.

Mrs. Kettle tapped it with her fist. "Ouch! I'll live. But look, no ambulance, no police."

"But... ," Charlie began.

"No arguments. How would I explain? A stone troll banged me on the head and wrecked my store.184The police couldn't deal with that sort of information, could they?"

Mrs. Kettle had a point. But her shop was destroyed, her window was broken, and when she rose, unsteadily, to her feet, Charlie noticed that she had to support herself against a table. They couldn't possibly leave her in this state.

"We'll sort out the kettles for you; they're not all broken." Charlie lifted a big iron kettle onto its stand.

"Don't you worry, Charlie. I'm not without friends. They'll be here soon, if I'm not mistaken." She tapped some numbers into Tancred's phone and handed it back to him.

"Put that away, storm boy, and let's have no more talk of doctors and police. Now then."

She bent over, with a small grunt, and looked under the table. "You can come out now, Billy Raven. It's all over."

Billy crawled out with Rembrandt's head peeking above his collar. "I wanted to make sure it had gone." He stood up and, pulling his rat out of his sweater,185began to pet his head. "Rembrandt was more scared than me," he said. "Did you finish it off, Tanc? That stone thing?"

""Fraid not. It's on the loose somewhere, and Eric Shellhorn's not far behind it. Together they're lethal."

Mrs. Kettle insisted that the boys leave her and her friends to put the shop back in order.

"My friends will be here soon," she said, "but I'd like to know where that troll has gone.

Don't put yourselves in danger, my dears. Make sure Eric's not with it. Just let me know what you find out."

"I'll update you tonight, Mrs. K.!" Tancred waved his phone. "What's your number?"

"I don't have one of those flashy things. Just come by." Mrs. Kettle ushered them out and closed the door.

"The fish shop next," Tancred announced, as they walked down the street.

"What d'you want to go there for?" asked Billy. "I wish we could get out of this street."186"I was coming to the fish shop when I heard the ruckus at Mrs. Kettle's place,"

said Tancred. "I've decided to give Dagbert his sea urchin."

"Swap it for Claerwen? Thanks, Tancred! But are you sure?" asked Charlie. "What made you change your mind?"

Tancred shrugged. "You need that moth, Charlie. And the sea urchin, well, we'll have to rely on our own talents to get the better of Dagbert."

When they reached the fish shop, Tancred tried the door. It was locked, as usual. He pressed a rusty doorbell, and they heard a long, mournful ring echo through the building.

Tancred pressed again. Nothing. The bell appeared to have given its last ring.

"Dagbert!" Charlie called up to the window. "Are you there?"

No reply.

They waited another five minutes before moving on. They passed a candle shop and a picture framer's, and then they were standing outside the Stone Shop.187Charlie's instinct was to run. Billy did. He ran until he was at the end of the road, and there he waited, one hand resting on the rat in his pocket, the other nervously twisting his hair.

"What d'you think?" said Tancred, looking into the dark store.

"What d'you mean, what do I think?" asked Charlie.

"I mean, should we go in?"

"You're joking!" Charlie realized he sounded hysterical. He tried to calm down. "I don't think it's a good idea right now, Tanc. If Eric's in there, he could set the whole place off."

Tancred stood away from the window. "You're right. Hmmm. We'll have to think this through."

But where could they go to think things through? Their usual meeting place was closed, Grandma Bone would be on the prowl at number nine, and Tancred lived miles away in the hills.

"My judgment's a bit off," Tancred murmured. "I feel weird after all that stuff with the troll."188"Sorry, Tanc!" Charlie fell into step beside Tancred as he walked down the street. "How did you get here today?"

"Gabriel's mom. She dropped me off on High Street. She and Gabriel have gone to see Mrs. Onimous."

"Hey, let's go to the Pets' Cafe, anyway," Charlie suggested. "Even if it's closed to customers, they might let us in. We're friends."

Fifteen minutes later they were standing on Frog Street and looking into the Pets' Cafe.

Chairs were piled onto tables, a white sheet covered the counter, and not one light showed in the lamps that made the cafe such a colorful and cozy place. It looked absolutely and utterly closed. Even the tails, whiskers, wings, and claws that decorated the sign above the door didn't look as bouncy as they had before. In fact, the whole place seemed to be receding back into the huge ancient wall behind it.

"Mrs. Silk parked around the corner," said Tancred. "But I know she was coming here."189Charlie rang the bell.

A light appeared behind the counter as a door was opened. Mrs. Silk appeared. She hesitated, saw the boys outside the window, and came to open the door.

"How's Mrs. Onimous?" asked Charlie in a reverentially hushed voice.

"Come and see!" Mrs. Silk looked surprisingly cheerful. Her blue eyes were twinkling and she had tied back her brown curls in a festive-looking ribbon.

The boys followed Mrs. Silk around the counter, through the bead curtain that hung in front of the doorway, and into the cozy kitchen. Gabriel was cutting some bread for Mrs.

Onimous, who had her arm in a sling, and there, sitting in an armchair by the stove, was Mr. Onimous.

Charlie could hardly believe it. Such intense relief flooded through him, he couldn't speak. Nor could anyone else. They just let themselves be taken over by the widest, longest, happiest of smiles.190A large white bandage covered Mr. Onimous's furry head, there was a butterfly bandage on his nose, and he had a black eye, but his broad smile revealed more of his small, sharp teeth than any of them had ever seen.

Charlie ran over to the little man. "M... Mr.... Mr. Onimous," he stuttered.

Mr. Onimous took Charlie's hand in his clawlike fingers. "There, there, Charlie. You look quite upset and, as you see, I'm right as rain."

"We thought you were dead," Billy blurted out. "How did you get better, Mr. Onimous?"

"Ah, how indeed. I had visitors, Billy." Mr. Onimous put his head to one side and chuckled.

"Visitors?" Billy was still puzzled. "What sort of visitors?"

"Furry ones!" Mrs. Onimous declared in a voice that said Billy should have known very well what sort of visitors had cured her husband.

Mr. Onimous laughed out loud, and from191beneath his chair there appeared three sleepy-looking cats.

"The Flames!" Tancred exclaimed, sinking into a chair beside Mrs. Onimous.

"The Flames!" Charlie dropped to his knees and began to stroke the three bright cats.

Billy hesitated before settling himself on the other side of Mrs. Onimous. "Rembrandt's had a bad experience," he told her. "He might not want to play with the Flames just yet."

"Why, Billy, they wouldn't hurt him," she said.

"All the same." Billy gently touched his pocket and Rembrandt sighed in his sleep.

Gabriel poured tea for everyone, and while Mrs. Silk drew trays of hot cakes from the oven, Mr. Onimous proceeded to tell the story of his miraculous recovery.

"I was lying in this hospital ward, middle of the night, patients snuffling and sighing all around me. I didn't care. I thought I was done for. Almost gone.192And worst of all was the feeling that someone wanted me gone. And then, through the grunts and groans and heavy breathings, I hear this sound. Patter, patter, light as fairy dust. Closer and closer, and then came the purrs; gentle, soft purrs, warm and lovely. And I began to think,I'm not gone. Not gone at all. In fact, I'm very much and altogether here. And what's more, I've got ajob to do. As soon as that thought entered my poor old head, I felt one of the cats leap onto my bed, then another, and another. And then Aries brought his copper-colored face right up close to mine, and he purred. And orange Leo rubbed his cheek against my arm and purred, and Sagittarius nipped my toes and kneaded my feet and purred.

"I tell you, those purrs went deep into my heart, boys. When the Flames heard my merry heartbeat and saw my eager open eyes, they jumped from the bed and waked away, as quiet and graceful as they'd come. And no one saw them, not a soul. I asked the night nurse in the morning. "Cats, Mr. Onimous," she said.193There were no cats in this

hospital, I can tell you. You were dreaming," she said, 'and now you've made a miraculous recovery."" Mr. Onimous smiled at everyone. "What d'you think of that?"

Charlie wasn't really surprised. He'd seen the Flames bring someone back to life before.

He'd also seen them nearly kill someone.

"Mr. Onimous, I think it's great," said Tancred. "But we need to find out who did this to you."

"And we need to get your cafe open again," Gabriel said forcibly.

Without lifting his hand from Leo's orange coat, Charlie said, "We've got something to tell you, too, Mr. Onimous."

Tancred said quickly, "Maybe not today."

Mr. Onimous looked offended. "If there's something I should know, it had better be now," he said. "So, come on, Charlie, spill the beans."

Mrs. Silk insisted they all have a snack first. "I've cooked so much," she said, handing out some plates.194"Most of it's for the animals, what with everything that's been happening.

I forgot the cafe was closed. It's all good stuff, though, anyone can eat it."

"Which is best for rats?" asked Billy.

Mrs. Silk pointed to some thin pinkish sticks, and Billy took a handful.

Charlie sat at the table and took three cookies with not a hint of pink about them. Tancred chose a flat, nutty-looking cake, only to be told that Mrs. Silk had made it especially for Shetland ponies.

Tancred neighed and said, "Haven't you seen my hooves?"

Everyone laughed, but when the laughter had died, there was a long silence, the sort of silence that suggests it should be filled with a story. Charlie began with the troll in the Kettle Shop, and Tancred took over, telling it from his point of view.

Gabriel and the Onimouses remained perfectly quiet, but Mrs. Silk became so agitated she couldn't keep still. She scraped the baking trays, washed the mixing bowls, put away the flour, and then started195wiping the table. She had to give up when Tancred really got going, though. Because as he spoke, things started blowing around: wooden spoons, paper bags, cake cutters, nuts, oats, currants and dried maggots, salt and pepper, sugar and spices, all lifted into the air, collided, and sank. They drifted onto heads and shoulders, tables and chairs, and every other surface. So tidying and sweeping became a rather pointless exercise.

As soon as Tancred's tale had ended, Mr. Onimous puffed out his cheeks and said, "Well, that was an epic battle. What a monster!"

"His name is Oddthumb," Charlie said quietly. "I've met him."

Obviously, another story was called for, so Charlie described his visit to Badlock. "And now Runner Bean's stuck," he finished. "And I can't seem to get back to rescue him."

"Don't go near that painting, Charlie," Mr. Onimous warned. "You say it sucked you in. I don't like the sound of it at all."196"Not at all," echoed his wife. "Have nothing to do with it. Lock the cellar door and throw away the key."