Charlie Bone and the Shadow

"That's just what Mrs. Kettle said. But what about Runner Bean?" Billy said accusingly.

"I thought you loved animals, Mrs. Onimous."

"So I do, Billy Raven, so I do." Mrs. Onimous rose to her full six feet. "But I love you, too. And it would break my heart if you were dragged into Badlock and never came back again."

For a moment, Billy looked quite dumbfounded. "I didn't know," he murmured.

After another round of snacks, Mrs. Silk suggested they all leave the cafe so that Mr. and Mrs. Onimous could have a little nap. Tomorrow, she herself would start a campaign to get the cafe opened again.

Gabriel was the last one to step outside. As he closed the cafe door behind him, he said thoughtfully, "Suppose the person who got the cafe shut197down was the same person who caused the Onimouses' accident?"

"Gabriel, I won't have you saying such things," said Mrs. Silk, frowning at her son.

"Gabriel's got a point," Tancred ventured.

"Councillor Loom closed the cafe because of complaints," argued Mrs. Silk. "Who on earth would want to harm those two dear people?"

"Norton Cross rides a motorcycle," said Charlie, trying not to sound too serious.

Their footsteps faltered, then stopped. They had reached High Street. Everyone looked at Charlie.

"It's just a thought," he said.

"Don't be ridiculous!" Mrs. Silk turned right and began to stride up High Street, calling,

"Gabriel, Tancred, you'd better hurry if you want a ride."

"Why's your mom so angry?" asked Charlie.

"She gets angry when she's scared," Gabriel explained. "See you guys on Monday." He grabbed Tancred's arm and together they ran after Mrs. Silk.198Charlie and Billy made their way back to Filbert Street.

When Uncle Paton still had not returned by nightfall, Maisie told the boys he was probably asleep in his camper van, hundreds of miles away. "In the Highlands probably,"

she said cheerfully. "He is like a dog with a bone when he's on the trail of something. But at least it's only us three for supper. Grandma Bone says she won't be back till late."

Before he went to bed, Charlie made sure the cellar door was locked. He went to see if Grandma Bone had returned the key to the blue jug. She had. But Charlie wasn't going to throw it away. He had to go back into Badlock, whatever the consequences.

"When Claerwen is with me, I'll try again," Charlie told himself. He wasn't only thinking of the dog; he was thinking of his promise to Otus Yewbeam.

The boys soon fell asleep, exhausted by the day's events. But a little before dawn, Billy woke up. He lay199in the dark, thinking he had heard a sound in the house. What was it?

The creak of a stair? The click of a door closing?

Billy sat up. He found that he wasn't afraid. Something momentous had happened. A few hours ago, Mrs. Onimous had said she loved him. No one had ever told him that before.

Not even the aunt he had lived with after his parents had died. It was such a new sensation, Billy didn't know how he felt about it. And then, gradually, it crept up on him: a profound, comforting happiness.

And then came another sound. This time there was no mistaking it. Billy would have known Runner Bean's voice anywhere.

"Billy! Help me! Billy! Where are you?"

Without turning on the bedside light, Billy reached for his glasses. The streetlight outside cast a thin beam of light under the curtains. Billy quietly slipped out of bed and went to the door. Runner Bean continued to call him, and yet he suddenly felt reluctant200to open the door. He looked at Charlie sleeping peacefully. Couldn't he hear the barking?

Was it only meant for Billy?

Mrs. Onimous said she loved me, Billy remembered. Why did he feel that if he went through the door, he would be throwing this wonderful gift away? For minutes, he stayed where he was, his hand on the doorknob, and then the dog's call became so insistent, so desperate, Billy couldn't ignore it.

As he crept downstairs, a cold breeze whipped around his feet. He reached the hall. The cellar door key was in a jug on top of the cabinet; Billy knew exactly which one. He was about to go into the kitchen when he noticed that the cellar door was wide open. A tide of sound washed toward him: the moan of the wind and a deep melancholy howl.

B ... I... L ... L ... Y?

Billy had no choice. He must reach the voice. Dog or human? Whatever it was, it drew him toward the cellar and down the steps until his bare feet began to turn blue on the cold stone floor. From the201painting Runner Bean gazed out at him. Howling and howling.

"I'm coming," said Billy.

The wind screamed into his ear, spinning him around and dragging him to the painting, closer and closer, until his cheek was pressed against the canvas, his fingers and toes already in Badlock.

A moment later, when the wind had died, someone quietly closed the cellar door and locked it.202CHAPTER 10

MR. BITTERMOUSE

Charlie woke up to the sound of barking. At first he couldn't tell where it came from. He looked at Billy's bed. It appeared to be empty. Charlie got up and looked closer. Yes, Billy was definitely not in bed. Putting that fact together with the barking gave Charlie a surge of hope. Had Billy found a way to rescue Runner Bean?

Charlie stuffed his feet into his slippers and ran down to the cellar. The door wouldn't open. Strange. Had Billy locked himself in?

"Billy?" he called. "Are you there?"

The barking increased. Claws pattered up the wooden steps and scratched the cellar door.

"Runner!" cried Charlie. "It is you, isn't it? You're out."

He was answered by a series of joyful barks.

"What's going on?" said a voice from the stairs. 203Charlie looked up to see Grandma Bone in her purple bathrobe and pink hairnet.

"Runner Bean's gotten out of that painting!" Charlie couldn't disguise his excitement. "I don't know how it happened, unless Billy did it, but the cellar door's still locked so..."

"Better unlock it, then." Grandma Bone tightened her bathrobe belt and went upstairs again. "And get that dog out of the house," she called. "It's Sunday morning and it'll wake the whole street."

Charlie ran to the kitchen. A chair had been placed beside the cabinet. That was odd. He was certain he had pushed it back to the table after he'd replaced the key in the jug. Billy must have gotten it out, unlocked the cellar door, and then locked himself in. In which case the key would be in the cellar, not the jug. Charlie climbed onto the chair and took down the jug. The key was still there.

Thoroughly mystified, Charlie took the key and hurried back to the cellar. As soon as he opened the204door, Runner Bean leaped out, knocked him down, and covered his face with wet kisses.

"OK! OK!" Charlie grabbed the big dog around the neck and pulled himself back onto his feet. "Quiet!" he commanded. "Sit!"

Runner Bean was an obedient dog. In spite of his excitement, he did as he was told.

Charlie called into the cellar, "Billy! Billy, are you there?"

There was no reply.

Charlie went down to take a better look. The painting hadn't moved, but now not a breath of wind escaped it. Badlock appeared dull and bleak, a place of fiction, not somewhere just a step away.

"Billy!" Charlie searched every corner: beneath old mattresses, behind wooden cabinets, old doors and suitcases, and bags of trash. There was no sign of Billy. Obviously, Runner Bean's escape had nothing to do with Billy. But in that case, where had Billy gone?

First things first. Benjamin must have his dog.205While Runner Bean waited patiently, Charlie ran upstairs, dressed hurriedly, and took the big dog across the road to number twelve.

In all his life Charlie had never seen anyone as happy as Benjamin when he set eyes on Runner Bean. The noise from both of them was enough to wake the dead, let alone every household in Filbert Street. The squeals and barks of joy brought Mr. and Mrs. Brown tumbling out of bed and down the stairs.

A breakfast of sausages, eggs, and broccoli was quickly served up, and Runner Bean was given a bone almost as big as his own leg.

Charlie was hungry, but before he was halfway through the meal, he suddenly stood up.

"The thing is," he explained, "Billy Raven's gone missing, and I ought to go and look for him."

"Missing?" Mr. and Mrs. Brown laid down their knives and forks. Missing persons were right up their alley. Not one of their cases of missing persons had remained unsolved.206"If you can't find Billy, come straight back to us," said Mrs. Brown.

"Will do. Thanks, Mrs. Brown." Charlie ran back to number nine.

Maisie was up and another fine breakfast awaited Charlie: sausages, eggs, and mushrooms.

"I'm sorry, Maisie. I don't think I can eat much." Charlie explained what had happened.

"I thought I heard barking," Maisie exclaimed. "Oh, Charlie, what wonderful news."

"Except that Billy has disappeared," said Charlie.

Maisie's face fell. "Charlie, are you sure? He must be in the house somewhere. Or he could have run up the road for something. Check his clothes."

Charlie went up to his bedroom. Billy's clothes were piled neatly on a chair, exactly where he had left them. His shoes were under the chair, his slippers by his bed. "So he can't have gone far," Charlie said to himself, and once again, he tried to dismiss the thought that had persisted in entering his head207ever since he had searched the cellar.

Billy has to be in Badlock.

No. A wave of nausea made Charlie sit down, quickly, on his bed. He was far more frightened for Billy than he had been for himself. What chance did Billy have, with his white hair and poor eyesight? The shadow's army was bound to catch him. But what possible reason could the count have for taking Billy and letting Runner Bean go?

Unless it had been the shadow's plan all along? He had known that Billy could never resist a cry for help from a dog. Charlie remembered Manfred's insistence that Billy should come back to number nine, where the painting of Badlock waited like a trap.

Charlie tore downstairs. "He's gone, Maisie. And I know where. He's in that painting."

"I can't believe it, Charlie," said Maisie. "If he's gone, I'm going to call the police, there's no two ways about it." She went into the hall and began to dial.208Knowing it would be useless to try and stop her, Charlie waited in the kitchen. He listened to Maisie's voice, insisting that a child named Billy Raven was missing, and then her angry response to something she'd been told. "Bloor's Academy. Mr. Ezekiel Bloor, or perhaps the headmaster, Dr. Bloor. But the boy disappeared from here, not there."

There was a pause while Maisie sighed heavily and tapped her foot. "Thank you. And will you let me know?... I'll call you, then. Good-bye." She slammed down the phone and came back to the kitchen, looking flushed and angry.

"They can't proceed until they're authorized to do so by the child's guardian," said Maisie.

"I suppose it must be Dr. Bloor, since Billy's an orphan. What a mess!"

Charlie said nothing. He was now utterly convinced that Billy had been captured by the painting. How pleased Grandma Bone had been when she saw Billy arrive. It was obviously she who had locked the cellar door after Billy had "gone in."209Charlie sat by the kitchen window waiting for Uncle Paton to arrive in the white camper van. He saw Benjamin and Runner Bean walk down to the park. He saw Mrs. Brown go to the mailbox; she was wearing a skirt and high-heeled shoes, for a change. It was no use telling Mrs. Brown that Billy was still missing.

Maisie brought Charlie a mug of hot cocoa. "Your uncle might not come back till next week. Don't look so forlorn, Charlie. I'm sure little Billy will turn up."

"He won't," muttered Charlie.

He discovered that the cellar door key was still in his pocket. When he'd finished his cocoa, he went down into the cellar and stared at the painting of Badlock. He scrutinized every inch of it, looking for a way in. He didn't care if he was caught again, if only he could find Billy. But the shadow had no use for Charlie Bone at present. It was Billy he wanted.

"Why have you taken him?" Charlie shouted at the painting. "Have you made a bargain?

Billy for your freedom to travel back into the world? Well, you210won't do it, Count Harken. Not now: The Mirror of Amoret was broken, so there's no way back. EVER!"

A blast of wind hurled Charlie against the opposite wall.

"You heard me, then!" he cried.

Dust, laden with splinters, flew into his face, and he covered his eyes just in time. His nostrils were filled with grit: It even crept between his teeth. Choking and sneezing, Charlie crawled across the cellar floor. He stumbled up the steps and fell into the hall. As he lay there, rubbing his eyes and spitting dust, he became aware of a tall figure looming over him.

"Foolish boy," said Grandma Bone. "What did you hope to achieve?"

Charlie sat up and glared at her. "You did it, didn't you? You opened the cellar door and then locked it behind Billy. I know he's in Badlock, and somehow I'm going to get him out."

"Don't meddle with the shadow," she said grimly.211Charlie watched his grandmother walk to the front door. She was wearing her Sunday best: shiny black shoes, a Persian lamb coat, and a purple velvet hat. The back of her bony shoulders expressed utter contempt.

There was roast beef for lunch, accompanied by Yorkshire pudding, roast potatoes, crispy sprouts, and rich gravy. It was Charlie's favorite meal, and he tried to do it justice, but the

food kept sticking in his throat, and he had to lay down his knife and fork. "I'm sorry, Maisie, it just won't go down," he said.

"Tell you what, I'll give the police a call," said Maisie. "Let's see if they've made any progress."

Charlie didn't expect to hear good news, but he was totally unprepared for what Maisie had to tell him. She came running back from the phone, crying, "They've found him, Charlie."

Charlie stood up, his fork clattering to the floor. "Found him?" he said in disbelief.

"He went back to Bloor's, that's what the police212said. They rang the school, and Dr.

Bloor said that Billy had turned up very early this morning. He was feeling homesick, the headmaster said."

"But, Maisie, he left his clothes, even his slippers. He couldn't have walked all that way in bare feet and pajamas."

"Then they're lying, Charlie, and I don't know what I can do about that." She ran the tap, and water splashed loudly onto the dirty plates and pans. "I wish your parents were here,"

she muttered. "Your father understands these things better than I do."

"Well, he isn't here," said Charlie. Adding bitterly, "He's never here."

Maisie turned to face Charlie. She didn't reprimand him for what he'd said. Instead, a look of pity crossed her face. "I'm sorry, Charlie," she said gently. "These things that happen to you and your friends, they're beyond my comprehension. I just can't deal with them."

"I'll go to the bookstore," said Charlie, leaving the kitchen. "The others may be there."213"Don't go alone, Charlie, please," called Maisie. "I know something's not right in this city, even if I can't understand it. I believe in your flying trolls and magic kettles and... and evil paintings, you know I do. I just get so upset sometimes."

Charlie's mind was made up. But as luck would have it, he didn't have to go out alone.

The doorbell rang, and when Charlie opened the door, there stood Benjamin and Runner Bean.

"Want to come over to my place?" said Benjamin.

When Charlie explained that he was on his way to the bookstore, Benjamin agreed to go with him.

On their way to Ingledew's, Charlie brought Benjamin up to date. Runner Bean bounded along in front of them, as though he were trying to escape from his own tail. His eyes still had a wary look, and he was easily spooked. Flying litter, swinging gates, and honking cars all had him leaping sideways with a loud yelp.

"I can't believe a headmaster would lie," Benjamin panted, as they ran to catch up with the yellow dog.214"Well, he did," said Charlie. "I know that Billy's in Badlock. What I can't figure out is why the shadow wants him."

They were now in the older part of the city, where the great cathedral towered above the surrounding stores and houses. Runner Bean had dropped behind them for some reason.

Every now and again he would give a low whine and sniff anxiously around a doorstep or a streetlight. All at once, the dog's whining became a full-blooded yelp of terror.

Charlie and Benjamin turned to see a huge and hideous creature approaching. The thing had to be a dog, but its legs were like concrete pipes, and its body showed not a trace of hair. Its head was a grotesque mockery of a hound, with a broad snout and dead stony

eyes. The "thing" had teeth, however. Oh, yes, it had teeth, longer and sharper than any earthly dog should have.

Runner Bean growled and, with incredible courage, moved forward - his ears were back, his body215was low, and his tail touched the ground. He was afraid but determined to defend the boys.

Benjamin grabbed Charlie's arm so tightly it hurt. "That thing will kill him, Charlie."

Charlie was thinking fast. Eric had to be near. It was Eric they had to deal with, not the hound. Charlie scanned the doorways and saw a crouching form, tucked behind a narrow porch.

"Ben, get Runner to stop that boy," cried Charlie. "See! There! Quickly!"

The two dogs were getting closer to each other. The stone hound's feet pounded the cobblestoned street like a slow, heavy machine. Thump! Thump! Thump! And then it made a sound, hollow and unearthly. It stopped Runner Bean in his tracks, but he didn't retreat.

Benjamin spotted the crouching form. "Runner!" he yelled. "There! There! Get him!"

Runner Bean looked back; he seemed confused.

"There!" Benjamin pointed. "There, Runner. Get him! Now!"216Runner Bean ran so fast the stone hound had no time even to put out a paw. But as Benjamin's dog leaped at Eric Shellhorn, the boy emitted a hissing chant and the stone hound turned and flung itself at the yellow dog.

There was an explosion of sound and a cloud of dust filled the street. When the dust cleared, the boys could see that one side of the porch had fallen in and its narrow tiled roof hung at a dangerous angle. The front door had vanished; so had the hound. It was now inside the house.

Runner Bean limped toward Benjamin, holding up a paw. There was no sign of Eric.

Hidden by the dust cloud, he must have escaped back to Piminy Street.

"Now what?" said Charlie. "Why is Eric doing this? Does he want to hurt me, or is it Runner Bean he's after?"

"Look, the owner," whispered Benjamin.

An elderly man had emerged through the217broken doorway. He stared at the boys with a dazed expression.

He was very thin, with strands of crinkly white hair, deep-set eyes, and the sort of skin that appeared never to have seen the sun. His black suit was dingy with age and his high-collared shirt was a dirty parchment yellow.

"Did you see that?" The man's frail voice hardly reached them.

Realizing he couldn't deny it, Charlie walked toward the man, saying, "Yes, we did, sir."

"There's a great stone thing in my hall," the man said tremulously, "all broken up. Looks like a stone dog."

"It is, sir," said Charlie, peering into the old man's hall. "At least it was." The hound's head had separated from its body and the rest lay around the floor covered in bricks.

"I am a retired lawyer," the old man told Charlie. "Mr. Hector Bittermouse, you may have heard of218me." He didn't wait for Charlie to reply. "Look! I haven't done any harm for sixty years, so why would anyone do that?" He pointed to the rubble in his hall. "And who was it?"

Charlie struggled to reply. He could hardly tell Mr. Bittermouse that a six-year-old boy was responsible for demolishing his door. It was too incredible. "It was ... it was ..."

Charlie was aware that Benjamin and Runner Bean were now standing just behind him.

Benjamin also found it impossible to provide Mr. Bittermouse with an answer.

"No!" Mr. Bittermouse suddenly cried out. "It was one of them, wasn't it?"

"One of who?" asked Charlie.

"One of those people from Piminy Street. My wife and I should have moved years ago, but we thought they'd all gone, and moving is such an upheaval." The old man began to wring his hands. "Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. What am I to do?"

Mr. Bittermouse was clearly not up to the task219confronting him, so the boys helped to clear the rubble into the street and prop up the broken door. And then Charlie had a bright idea. Norton Cross, the large Pets' Cafe doorman, would probably be looking for work.

"If you send a letter to Mr. Norton Cross, The Pets' Cafe, Frog Street, I think he'll be able to help you, Mr. Bittermouse," said Charlie. "He's very strong, and nothing frightens him."

"Write it down for me, young man." Mr. Bittermouse beckoned them into a dark study where a huge mahogany desk filled almost an entire wall. The old man took out a pen and a notepad and handed them to Charlie. Charlie wrote down Norton's name and the Pets'

Cafe address.

"And what would your name be, young man?" asked Mr. Bittermouse.

"Charlie Bone, sir."

"Bone," said the old man thoughtfully. "My older brother knew a Bone - Lyell Bone."220"He's my father," said Charlie.

"They were friends," went on Mr. Bittermouse, "good friends. Their relationship wasn't just professional."

Charlie had no way of knowing that his next question would have far-reaching consequences. He merely wanted to know how and why his father had become friends with a man who must be very old. "Who is your brother, Mr. Bittermouse?" asked Charlie.

"He's a lawyer like me, Charlie - was a lawyer, I should say. Though he still does a bit of work, now and again, for special friends. Barnaby Bittermouse is his name. He's over ninety, but his memory is a lot sharper than mine. Lives all by himself on Tigerfield Street, number ten."

Charlie filed all this away in his mind. But how could he forget names like Tigerfield and Bittermouse? And how could he forget the number ten?221CHAPTER 11

TANCRED'S NOTE

Charlie and Benjamin left Mr. Bittermouse without meeting his wife. She must be very deaf, thought Charlie, not to have heard her porch falling down.Nobody else had heard either, for that matter. Or if they had, they were keeping well away. The street was deserted. But then most people would be huddled around a fire or the TV on a cold Sunday afternoon.

Ingledew's Bookstore was not far from Mr. Bittermouse's house. Had Miss Ingledew heard the noise?

Yes, she had. "Charlie, Benjamin, how good to see you," said Miss Ingledew as she opened the door to them. "You didn't happen to see what caused that awful crash just now, did you?"

"Yes, we did," said Charlie.

Olivia, who had been packing books behind the counter, suddenly popped up like a jack-in-a-box, causing Runner Bean to leap in the air with a yelp.222"So what was it?" asked Olivia.

"I'll tell you about the crash later," said Charlie, "but really I've come to ask Miss Ingledew's advice. Something awful has happened to Billy Raven."

Olivia pulled aside the curtain behind the counter and called, "Bad news, Em!"

"Oh, no!" said Emma in a suitably tragic voice.

They all joined her in the backroom, where Miss Ingledew had a good fire burning. A pile of roasted chestnuts by the grate reminded Charlie of Christmas. There was even a jug of hot blackberry juice just inside the fireplace screen.

Once he was tucked into a corner of the sofa, with hot chestnuts in his hands and a mug of blackberry juice on the table beside him, Charlie recounted his extraordinary weekend.

There were interruptions, of course, most of them from Olivia, but Benjamin and Runner Bean, lying together on a rug before the fire, fell fast asleep. The others looked quite exhausted by the time Charlie had finished, but at least they'd stayed awake.223 Charlie was disappointed with Miss Ingledew's reaction. "Your uncle will know what to do," she said. Her face was a picture of worry."But he's not here," said Charlie, peeling his last chestnut.

"Where is he, Charlie? He was away all last week. What are we going to do without him?" Miss Ingledew seemed to have reversed their roles. Now she was asking Charlie for his advice.

"I was hoping you would know," Charlie replied.

"Oh!" Miss Ingledew, who was sitting at her desk, nervously flipped over a page on her calendar, picked up a pen, and put it down again. Was it possible that she was missing Uncle Paton?

Wedged in beside Charlie, Olivia was frowning with concentration. Emma, at the other end of the sofa, was staring into the fire, with her chin resting on her hands. All at once, Olivia made a loud huffing sound and cried, "I know. We'll go and see the headmaster.

Maybe Billy did go back to school, but if he's224not there, we'll ask Dr. Bloor where he is. He'll have to tell us."

"He won't tell us the truth," Emma said gloomily. "He could easily say he's sent Billy away, or something."

Miss Ingledew stood up and began to pace about. "It's the Piminy Street business that worries me," she said. "Poor Mrs. Kettle. I must pay her a visit. And Mr. Bittermouse!

That creature could have killed him. Something should be done about Eric."

Benjamin had woken up. Rubbing his eyes and yawning, he grumbled that Runner Bean had never hurt anyone, so why had a stone dog been sent after him?

"Maybe it wasn't," Olivia said brightly. "Do you want to know what I think?"

"Tell us, Olivia." Miss Ingledew sat down again and put on an earnest expression.

"I think the stone hound was meant to break down Mr. Bittermouse's door," Olivia said225triumphantly. "Runner Bean just happened to be in the way. Remember, Charlie?

You told us Mr. Bittermouse said, 'I haven't done any harm for sixty years." Which means he did once, and someone's getting back at him at last."

Nobody argued. It made perfect sense. Except, as Miss Ingledew pointed out, the someone who put Eric up to his nasty tricks must be quite old by now, if Mr. Bittermouse had harmed them such a very long time ago.

"It could be a family feud," Benjamin suggested.

"Yes, yes, Benjamin, I think you're right." Miss Ingledew sat down again. "Their descendants are returning to settle old scores, to continue the feuds that began centuries ago." She frowned. "But why now? And who has summoned them?"

"The shadow," said Charlie.

Olivia shook her head. "It can't be the shadow. Why do you keep coming back to him, Charlie? The shadow was banished. He's gone. If he wasn't, he'd226be seen in the streets, causing trouble, appearing at Bloor's. He was an enchanter, for goodness' sake; he'd be creating mayhem, after what happened to him."

"Then he's reaching those Piminy Street people through someone else," Charlie claimed.

"Mrs. Tilpin. She still has the Mirror of Amoret. Even though it's broken, maybe she can still talk to the shadow."

"Let's hope no one can fix the mirror," said Emma.

Mss Ingledew gave a little shiver, as though she were trying to shrug off something unpleasant. "I must get back to work. I've a lot to do before the store opens tomorrow.

Stay as long as you like, boys, and finish those chestnuts while they're warm."

When Miss Ingledew had gone, no one spoke for a while, and then Olivia said, "Shall we go and see Dr. Bloor tomorrow, Charlie?"

He didn't like the idea at all; he knew that Billy was in Badlock, but Olivia had boxed him into a227corner. "I'll go alone, if you don't mind," he said. "Billy was staying with me, so it's my responsibility."

"OK. But just let me know if you want me to come." Olivia peeled another chestnut. "I think I'll dye my hair green tonight."

"Good," said Charlie, for want of a better response.

So much had happened over the weekend Charlie couldn't be blamed for overlooking a very important detail. It was Benjamin who brought it up, as he and Charlie were walking home.

"Was Rembrandt with Billy when he disappeared?" asked Benjamin.

Charlie stopped dead. "I don't know," he said slowly. "He wasn't in my bedroom. I'd have seen him."

"Well, if you find him in the cellar, it means that Billy was definitely there, doesn't it?"

Benjamin looked rather pleased with himself.

"Certainly does, Ben." Charlie felt much more228optimistic. At least there was something he could do to prove that Billy had gone into the cellar.

"Good luck, then, Charlie!" Benjamin sprinted across the road to number twelve, with Runner Bean bounding beside him.

When he reached his own front door, the yellow dog looked back at Charlie, as if to say,

"Better you than me."

Rembrandt was not in the cellar. Charlie turned over every mattress, bag, box, moth-eaten blanket, pillow, and suitcase. He even forced himself to look behind the sinister painting, still propped against the wall,

"Charlie, whatever are you doing?" Maisie called softly from the hall.

"I'm looking for Rembrandt," Charlie shouted, not caring who heard.

"Rembrandt? Didn't Billy take him, then?"

"Yes, he probably did," Charlie said angrily as he climbed the cellar steps. "Only YOU

think he took him to Bloor's, and I think he took him to Badlock."229Maisie said sadly,

"I wish your uncle would come back."

But Uncle Paton didn't come back. And next morning there was no sign of a white camper van outside the house, and no answer when Charlie knocked on his uncle's door.

There was, however, a postcard.

"Look! Look!" cried Maisie, running into the kitchen. "Your mom and dad have written.

I'm so glad it arrived before you left for school."

Charlie looked at the picture on the front of the card. A cold shiver ran down his spine.

He picked up the card and stared at it.

"Charlie, whatever is the matter?" said Maisie. "Turn it over and read the message."

But Charlie couldn't tear his gaze from the image on the front: a small sailing boat, riding the waves of an endless gray sea. It was the boat Charlie had seen in his nightmares, in the moments when he had fought off Manfred's hypnotizing stare, and glimpsed the thoughts behind those cruel black eyes.230Unable to bear the suspense, Maisie snatched the card away and read: "This is such fun, Charlie, we have decided to stay away a little longer than we had planned. A letter to Maisie will explain. I'm giving this to the captain of a passing yacht. He'll reach dry land long before we do. We think of you every day.

All our love, Mom and Dad xxx."

"Well, that's not so bad, Charlie. We'll manage, won't we? Don't look so upset."

"It's the boat." Charlie's throat was dry with fear.

"What about it?" Maisie turned the postcard over. "It's a nice little boat. I expect they've got someone to sail it for them. They wouldn't go out alone."

"It's going to sink," Charlie said with conviction.

"I've never heard such foolishness. They might not even be on this boat." Maisie jabbed a finger at the postcard. "It's just a picture, Charlie. What-ever's the matter with you?

Anyone would think you begrudged your poor parents a little bit of time together."231Charlie felt too wretched to reply. He walked out of the kitchen, went to get his bags, and left the house without even saying good-bye.

News of the "wicked weekend," as Olivia was calling it, had reached everyone who mattered in Bloor's Academy before the first break. Unfortunately, it had also reached a lot of people who didn't matter. Although Joshua, Dorcas, Dagbert, and the twins probably did matter, insofar as they made Charlie feel even worse with their sidelong smirks and snide remarks.

It all came to a head as they were filing down the corridor of portraits for lunch. Joshua sidled up to Charlie and whispered, "Where's your friend, the little white rat, Charlie?

Has he been adopted by a nice mommy rat?"

Charlie shoved Joshua backward, grunting, "Shut up, you moron!"

Joshua had legs like pins. He lost his balance at the slightest shove. Charlie's small push sent him232flying into the portrait of a rather disagreeable-looking woman. The very same woman who Dagbert had so tactlessly insulted.

This time Manfred's great-great-great-grandmother, Donatella Da Vinci, came tumbling off the wall. There was a scream of pain as the portrait landed on the already prostrate Joshua Tilpin.

"What's going on?"

Silent children parted like waves as the talents master came storming down the corridor.

When he saw the portrait of his ancestor lying across Joshua Tilpin, Manfred's mouth fell open in horror. He uttered a strangled cry and then, turning in fury, bellowed, "Who did this?" It was clear that he was more concerned with the fallen portrait than the boy underneath.

"Charlie Bone, sir." Dorcas Loom tried not to smile, but the effort was too great.

"Do you think this is funny, Dorcas Loom?" Manfred demanded.233"No, sir," answered Dorcas, instantly losing her smile.

"Someone help me!" Manfred lifted one side of the portrait.

Bragger Braine stepped forward and took the other side. A moment later, Donatella was back in place, but horror of horrors, there was a small hole above her right eyebrow. It had not been noticed while she lay on Joshua, probably because of the long wrinkle on her unforgiving forehead.

There was a chorus of gasps. Charlie caught Donatella's eye. She was cursing him in the most unpleasant language. He hoped, desperately, that he would never find himself in her century.

Manfred was turning from white to red and back again to white, all in the space of thirty seconds. Charlie didn't dare to move. He wanted to close his eyes but forced himself to keep them open while he awaited his fate.

The talents master uttered a crescendo of growls234that ended in a very long roar. In one breath he screamed, "Charlie Bone, go to the headmaster this minute and tell him what you've done!"

"Yes, sir." Charlie was glad of the opportunity to escape Donatella's curses, but he would have preferred to visit the headmaster in different circumstances. He began to make his way back down the corridor, which was difficult because of the press of children who were trying to get to the cafeterias.

Fidelio, squeezing himself closer to Charlie, whispered, "Good luck." He passed a note into Charlie's hand. "Tancred ..."

Someone pushed Fidelio aside and Charlie failed to hear the rest of his friend's sentence.

He quickly put the note in his pocket as Fidelio was swept away.

"I'm still going to ask him about Billy," Charlie said to himself as he walked to the door leading to the west wing. When Charlie opened the door, a small white caterpillar, hidden in a crack in the old wood,

234235fell onto Charlie's shoulder. Slowly, it began to crawl down the back of his blue cape. By the time Charlie had reached Dr. Bloor's study, the caterpillar had tucked itself into the sleeve of his shirt.

Before he knocked on the door, Charlie glanced down the deserted hallway. There was not one empty space between the rows of doors on either side. Every inch was filled with shelves of books, glass cases holding skulls and ancient artifacts, upright leather trunks, carved chests, grandfather clocks, gilt-framed mirrors, and oddly dressed wax figures.

As if all this were not enough, the ceiling was hung with stuffed birds, dried plants, and mechanical toys, all moving slowly in a draft from the distant staircase; their tinny, rustling, creaking sounds competing with the melancholy ticking of the grandfather clocks.

Charlie wondered what went on in the many rooms behind the shiny oak-paneled doors.

He236decided that he would rather not know. Squaring his shoulders, he took a deep breath and knocked on Dr. Bloor's door.

"I'm coming," said an irritated voice.

This was not what Charlie had expected. He knocked again.

"For goodness' sake, what's the hurry? Will the soup get cold if I'm a minute late?"

Plucking up courage, Charlie said loudly, "It's Charlie Bone, sir."

"What the dickens?" Quick strides could be heard approaching the door. The next moment it was flung open and Dr. Bloor stood glowering at Charlie. "What's the meaning of this?" he demanded. "I don't see miscreants at this hour. It's lunchtime."

"I know, sir." Charlie swallowed the unwelcome lump that had arrived in his throat. "But the talents master sent me."

"For Pete's sake, why?"

Charlie ran his sleeve beneath his nose and sniffed.237"Don't do that!" bellowed Dr.

Bloor.

"Sorry, sir. I'm here because I knocked Joshua Tilpin over, and somehow, he banged into a portrait and... and... and ..." Charlie was finding it difficult to describe the hole in Donatella's forehead.

"AND?" shouted Dr. Bloor.

"And Donatella Da Vinci now has a hole." Charlie placed a finger above his right eyebrow and added, "Just here."

For what seemed like a very long time, Dr. Bloor could not speak. He just stared at Charlie, his gray lips working away beneath his neat mustache. At last, in a low, menacing voice, he said, "You stupid, insufferable, loathsome, detestable child. I knew it would come to this."

Charlie was going to ask what Dr. Bloor meant by "this," but just then Weedon emerged from a door farther down the corridor.

"Your lunch is served, Headmaster," the janitor announced, in a tone that suggested a feast had been prepared.238Dr. Bloor grunted, "In a moment. Weedon. Take this boy to the Gray Room."

Charlie would never know where he got the courage to say what he did next. With Weedon thumping toward him, he knew he didn't have much time, so he just came out with it, all in a rush.

"Dr. Bloor, Billy Raven didn't come back here on Saturday, did he? I know he didn't, so why did you tell the police he did? I mean if he IS here, then where ..."

Charlie watched Dr. Bloor's face go through an amazing transformation. At first he looked astonished, as though he couldn't believe that Charlie had the temerity to ask such a question, and then his features hardened into a cold, forbidding mask. "Get him away from me," he shouted at Weedon.

Weedon had already grabbed Charlie's collar, and now he heaved him, half-choking, down the hallway.

"I know he's not here," Charlie spluttered doggedly. "I know ... I know ..."239Weedon suddenly opened a door and thrust Charlie inside. There was a loud click. Charlie didn't have to try the door to know that it was locked. He found himself in a cold, gray room.

There was nothing in it. Not one thing. The floorboards were rough and unpolished, the walls plain gray stone. There was no heating of any kind. At one end of the room a small,

round window showed four quarters of a sky the color of lead. Charlie had no way of reaching the window. It was far too high, and there was nothing to stand on. But Charlie wasn't easily disheartened. He pulled his hood over his head, wrapped his cape tightly around himself, sat in a corner with his knees up, and prepared himself for what was obviously going to be a long wait.

In such a position, the slightest movement in any part of the room would have alerted Charlie, so when the caterpillar appeared on the floor beside him, he was immediately interested. He watched the tiny creature make its way across the floor and then begin to climb the stone wall. When it was a few240inches above the level of Charlie's head, it began to twist and turn, releasing a thread of glistening silk. Around it went, up and down, the silk covering its body in a shining cocoon.

While the caterpillar was occupied in this way, Charlie suddenly remembered the note Fidelio had given him. Charlie pulled the crumpled paper from his pocket and unfolded it. The note read:

You dhaveyour moth hy tonight, Charlie. I'm meeting Dag Bert in the sculpture room before supper. Tonered.

"You're a star, Tanc!" Charlie quickly pushed the note back into his pocket. And then, for no reason that he could think of, he had a pang of misgiving.

What was wrong with him? He stared at the silk cocoon, its radiance increasing every minute, until the gray walls were bathed in a comforting glow. With a sudden explosion of light, the cocoon burst apart, and a white moth flew out in a shower of stars.241"Claerwen!" breathed Charlie.

The moth settled onto his knee and spread her damp wings. But even as those white wings began to dry and shine with a greater brilliance than ever, Charlie was thinking of his friend.

If Claerwen was here, then what was in store for Tancred when he descended into the sculpture room, where Dagbert-the-drowner was waiting?242CHAPTER 12

A DROWNING

Hide!" Charlie whispered.

The white moth allowed her wings to fade until they were the same color as the dull stones in the wall, and then she crawled into the pocket of Charlie's cape.

When the moth was safely hidden, Charlie began to bang on the door. "Hey!" he called.

"When are you going to let me out? I'm sorry, OK? I didn't mean to damage the portrait."

He was answered by the half-hour chimes of five grandfather clocks. Charlie looked at his watch. Only half past three. Perhaps they would release him at teatime.

But no one came at four o'clock. Or five. At half past five, hungry and thirsty, Charlie began to bang on the door again. He had to see Tancred before he returned the golden sea urchin. Who knew what243Dagbert could do, once he had all the sea-gold charms again.

At twenty minutes to six, hoarse from shouting and overcome by a terrible weariness, Charlie slumped to the floor and fell asleep. He had no way of knowing that a battle was about to begin.

In winter, the hours between the end of lessons and dinner were considered free time for the students of Bloor's Academy. Some were busy with rehearsals, of course, but Tancred and Dagbert were not gifted in music or drama, so half past five seemed a good time to meet.

Only Fidelio and Lysander were aware of Tancred's plan, but Fidelio had to rehearse with the school orchestra and Lysander was playing Ping-Pong in the gym.

The sculpture room could only be reached by opening a trapdoor in the art room and going down a steep spiral staircase. At the end of the school day, the trapdoor was always closed.244Emma was surprised to see Dagbert Endless lifting the trapdoor at half past five. She had never seen him in the art room before. There was such a forest of easels in the room that Dagbert didn't notice Emma, working behind her canvas in a far corner.

Tancred didn't see her either. Emma watched him descend into the sculpture room, only moments after Dagbert.

Everything Tancred did mattered to Emma, and when she saw him following Dagbert down to a room where an old tap dripped constantly into a stone trough as big as a bath, she was instantly alarmed.

For a few minutes Emma continued to add color to the group of birds in her painting, but she found it difficult to concentrate. She decided she must know what was happening in the room below. But if Tancred saw her looking in, he would regard her as an interfering girl, a busybody or, even worse, a spy.

There was another way. Emma could use her endowment. It was something she did very seldom. While some used their unusual talents almost every day,245Emma preferred to keep hers for emergencies. Was this an emergency? Decidedly yes, she thought, remembering the dripping tap and the tomblike trough.

Putting down her paintbrush, Emma stepped away from her easel, took off her cape, and closed her eyes. She thought of a bird, very small, like a wren; a tiny, brown, speckled bird that would never be noticed perched, in shadow, at the back of a wrought-iron step.

While Emma imagined her bird, she began to dwindle; smaller, smaller, and smaller until she was the size of a fledgling wren. Her arms became brown speckled wings; her legs, black and needle-thin beneath the downy feathers that covered her body; and then came the head with its bright black eyes and sharp yellow beak.

The brown bird hopped across to the open trapdoor and dropped onto the top step.

White sheets covered the undefined shapes standing around the sculpture room like ghosts.246Tancred had his back to a wood carving: a seven-foot-tall griffin. Dagbert sat on the edge of the stone trough. Behind him, the old tap dripped. The trough appeared to be half full.

"I like the carving," Dagbert said. "Is it yours?"

"Lysander's," Tancred replied. "It's a griffin. Have you brought the moth?"

"Have you got my sea-gold creature?"

"Of course. Where's the moth?"

Dagbert smiled. "Here." He drew a small glass jar from his pocket. At the bottom lay something white. Tancred couldn't see what it was. He had to step closer.

"The sea urchin!" Dagbert demanded.

Tancred peered into the jar. It certainly looked like Charlie's moth, lying at the bottom.

How could he know that Dorcas Loom had made an excellent replica? She had even painted the wing tips a luminous, glowing silver.

Tancred put his hand inside his cape and withdrew the sea urchin. As Dagbert made to grab it,247Tancred snatched the jar. Now that both boys had what they wanted, their meeting should have ended there, but Tancred stared uncertainly at the motionless object lying at the bottom of the jar.

In an instant Tancred pulled back, dropping the jar. The false moth slid out and lay motionless on the floor.

"You've tricked me!" cried Tancred, filling the room with a wind that blew the covers off every sculpture and carving. White sheets flapped in the turbulent air; tools, brushes, pots, and tins rolled about the floor; Emma huddled down on her step as the wind swept through her feathers.

The full force of the wind struck Dagbert in the face. He closed his eyes and with one hand clutched his seaweedy hair as though it might be torn from his head. "I'm stronger than you, Tancred Torsson!" he screamed.

The dripping tap spun off the wall and water gushed out in a torrent. In a second, the stone trough had overflowed, and a bubbling stream rushed across248the floor.

Staggering against the current, Tancred slipped and crashed against the stone trough.

Emma heard a thump as Tancred's head hit the side of the trough. He lay unconscious, facedown in the water. The wind died, and hopping forward, Emma saw Dagbert standing over Tancred.

"You'll never get my sea-gold charm again," cried Dagbert. "Never, never, never."

Emma held back the shriek that she wanted to utter. If she were to help Tancred, she must stay alive, stay hidden.

Clutching his golden sea urchin, Dagbert leaped up the stairs. He never noticed the tiny bird sitting like a dried leaf in the corner of the top step.

With a juddering bang, the trapdoor closed, and Emma heard Dagbert's footsteps thundering above. There was no time to wonder if the trapdoor had been locked. Emma flew down to Tancred.

Perching on his head, she began to peck frantically at the blond hair, but the storm boy didn't move. She would have to roll him over, Emma realized, so249that his nose and mouth were not beneath the water. For a tiny bird this was impossible. She would have to change.

"Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!" Emma urged herself as the feathers melted and her body grew. A girl, at last, she rolled Tancred on his back, put her hands under his arms, and dragged him out of the trough.

Tancred gave an enormous spluttering cough and sat up. "Aw, my head," he groaned.

"Em, what happened? What are you doing here?"

"Dagbert," was all she said, before whirling up the steps.

It was as she had feared, the trapdoor was locked. It would be useless to scream; no one would hear them. The whole school would be in the dining hall by now. Emma tore back down the staircase and ran to the trough. Plunging her hand into the water she found the tap and tried to jam it into the wall, where water still gushed from an open pipe.

It was impossible. Time and again the tap dropped out. The trough was overflowing, and there were250now at least six inches of water in the room. Soon it would be a foot, two feet, three. This was no ordinary flow. It was a torrent brought on by Dagbert and his set of golden charms, complete now that he had the sea urchin. Water was seeping under the door into the next room, where first years took their drawing lessons.

There were no windows in these basement rooms. Strips of halogen lighting ran across the ceiling, and two small vents let in the air. Emma dragged a chair to the wall, jumped up on it, and tugged at the grill covering one of the vents. It fell into the water with a loud

splash, and Emma looked into a dark cavity, where fresh air swirled from an opening high above. I must go in there, thought Emma, there is no other way.

Tancred had closed his eyes. Emma ran to him and shook his shoulder. He slipped sideways and fell into the water. Pulling him upright, Emma cried, "Tancred, you must sit up. You MUST. I have to get help, but if you fall into the water and I'm not here..."251Tancred opened his eyes. "Yes, Em," he mumbled. "My... legs... are... under...

water."

"Yes. But you must keep your head above. Can you walk?"

"Think so." His voice was little more than a croak.

Emma helped him stumble across to the chair beneath the vent. The water splashed against their shins in a vicious tide. Tancred dropped onto the chair and clung to the sides, but it was obvious that he found it hard to stay upright. Emma looked around the room. The griffin would be too heavy to move, she decided, but there were two plaster tigers that might serve her purpose.

Emma pushed the tigers to either side of Tancred. Their heads came just above his elbows. "Who made these?" she asked as she hastily began to change shape again.

"I did." Tancred smiled sleepily. "My tigers." Resting his arms on their wide, painted heads, he looked down at the small bird skimming the water close to his knees. "They'll keep me safe, Em."252Will they? Suppose they can't, Emma thought as she flew into the vent. Above her was complete darkness. It wasn't easy, even for a tiny bird, to fly blind, up and up, through a narrow pipe. Time and again her wing tips brushed against the sides, tilting her backward and making her head spin. But at last she reached a bend in the pipe, and found that she could stand. Ahead of her a tiny patch of light showed the way out.

She hopped to the end of the pipe. Now she had to make a quick decision.

The whole school would be in the underground dining hall. No one would hear her if she knocked on the great oak doors. And if she rang the bell, who would open the door?

Weedon, the janitor, who had not an ounce of sympathy for an endowed child.

There was only one place she could go; only one man strong enough to demand entry to Bloor's Academy and rescue Tancred. Emma flew toward the Heights, a distant hill crowned by a thick forest of pines.

The Thunder House stood in a forest glade; visitors253to the place were few, for the surrounding air was always turbulent. Thunder growled above the trees and an incessant north wind carried hailstones, even in the summer.

Small birds became as helpless as toys when they drew near the Torssons' home. Tossed between clouds and deafened by thunderclaps, they could do little more than close their eyes and hope to keep airborne.

But hope was not good enough for Emma. In the world, no bird was as fiercely determined. She would reach Tancred's father, and he would save Tancred.

As Emma approached the mysterious house with its three pointed roofs, the wind increased its grip. She could hardly breathe as the current's iron fist tightened about her.

With a soundless cry of fear she gave in to the wind and allowed it to hurl her at the Thunder House.

When the wind released her, the bruised little bird ruffled her feathers and stretched her needle-thin legs. "Help! Help!" she cried; before she was254fully changed, she began to rap on the Thunder House door with a fist that still had not lost all its feathers.

When the door was opened, it would be difficult to say who was the most startled: the half-bird, half-girl on the step or the seven-foot-tall man with his moon-yellow hair and electrified beard.

They had met once before and Emma knew Mr. Torsson was a kind man beneath his stormy exterior. "It's Emma," she said. "I'm sorry I'm still not quite me." Then, reaching her full, featherless height, "Ah, here I am."

"Emma Tolly?" boomed Mr. Torsson.

"Yes," Emma shrieked through a thunderclap, and without pausing for another breath, she cried out her news. Every word she uttered increased the tempest that erupted from the thunder man, and before she had finished, her hand was seized in long, icy fingers.

"We'll ride the storm," roared Mr. Torsson, whirling Emma off her feet.255Afterward, Emma could never find the words to describe her journey through the air. She was flying, and yet she was not a bird. The storm lifted her, cradled her, swung her feet into its arms, and rushed her through the sky. The storm had moon-yellow hair and bolts of lightning grew from his beard. Beneath him the hooves of an invisible horse thundered over the clouds.

It was over in less than two minutes. They landed in the courtyard of Bloor's Academy, and before Emma could gather her thoughts, Mr. Torsson had mounted the worn stone steps. One blow from his icy fist sent the great doors crashing apart, their long iron bolts scudding over the flagstones.

"Where's my son?" roared the thunder man, striding into the hall.

"This way," cried Emma, running to the staircase.

The ancient wood groaned in distress as Mr. Torsson mounted the stairs. The railings rattled and the carpets sighed as hailstones bruised their thick pile.256"Hurry, please!

Hurry," called Emma, running down the hallway that led to the art room.

Voices could now be heard in the hall. "Who's there? What's going on?"

Easels clattered to the floor as Mr. Torsson marched through the art room. He reached the trapdoor and Emma pointed to the bolt that held it shut. She could hear the water gurgling beneath them. How high would it be now?

In almost one movement, the thunder man had pulled open the trapdoor and whirled down the spiraling steps. Emma, following, saw to her horror that the water was now level with the tigers' eyes. Tancred had gone.

"Don't touch the water!" Mr. Torsson commanded as he waded through the flood.

Shafts of electricity lit the water and the room was bathed in the reflected blue-white glow. The thunder man bent down and, with a dreadful sucking splash, lifted his son out of the water. Tancred's face was a deathly gray.257"NO!" With tears streaming down her face, Emma scurried back up to the art room. Thundering footsteps and the steady stream pouring from Tancred's clothes followed her up the steps and through the tangle of fallen easels.

Squelch! Squelch! Squelch! Mr. Torsson's wet boots punched damp holes into the floorboards as they hurried down unlit corridors until they came to the landing above the hall.

Dr. Bloor stood looking up at them. Behind him, some of the staff had gathered. They stared at Mr. Torsson, their mouths agape, like dying fish.

"You'll pay for this!" bellowed Mr. Torsson, raising the boy he carried.

Hissing blue water streamed down the polished staircase and spilled onto the flagstones.

Fearing electrocution, the crowd moved back with exclamations of alarm. But old Mr.

Ezekiel, in his rubber-wheeled chair, moved to the foot of the dripping stairs and croaked,

"Why should we pay? Your son has evidently made a mess. Must258have left the tap running and slipped in the water."

"LIAR!" boomed the thunder man.

Hailstones the size of oranges rained down on the terrified staff. Most ran, howling childishly, into the nearest hallway; a few, including Dr. Saltweather, raised their hands protectively above their heads and waited to see what would happen next.

They didn't have to wait long. The next minute a bolt of lightning whizzed around the paneled walls. Flames began to eat at the wooden signs above the coatroom doors, and then all the lights went out. When Mr. Torsson thumped down the staircase, the whole building shuddered. Distant bangs and crashes could be heard as paintings fell off walls, furniture toppled over, and cupboards flew open, disgorging their contents over anything and anyone in their way.

Down in the dining hall, children clutched their plates while knives and forks flew in every direction.

"Do not impale yourselves," Mrs. Marlowe, the259drama teacher, called theatrically through the darkness. "It's just a thunderstorm. Stay calm."

"A typhoon more likely," said Bragger Braine.

"A typhoon, definitely," echoed Rupe Small.

Crouching on the landing, Emma watched Mr. Torsson's huge silhouette move across the hall. In the dangerous flicker from tiny fires all around the room, she could just make out the retreating figures of Dr. Bloor and Mr. Ezekiel, in his wheelchair.

With a final, deafening crack of thunder, Mr. Torsson stepped between the open main doors and down into the courtyard. Emma longed to follow him, but she didn't dare to move. She stayed where she was while the staff rushed around, shining flashlights and setting things right again. And then she crept up to her dormitory and waited to tell Olivia the unbelievable, heartbreaking news.

Charlie sat huddled in a corner of the Gray Room. He guessed that the violent thunderstorm must have260had something to do with Tancred. But what had happened?

He longed to know.

When the storm had passed, a profound silence settled into the hallway outside. It was as though the grandfather clocks and mechanical toys were holding their breath. A minute later they started up again, even louder and faster than before.

Charlie looked at his watch. Nine o'clock. Had they forgotten his existence? Did they intend to starve him? He was too hungry and too cold to sleep.

At half past nine the door opened. Charlie leaped up. A powerful light was beamed at his face, and he covered his eyes with his hand.

"Can I go now?" asked Charlie. "And... and could I have something to eat?"

"Oh, yes, Charlie Bone, you can go!" It was Weedon's gloomy voice. "You've been suspended." * "Suspended?" uttered Charlie.

"I'm taking you back to your home, where you can cool your heels for a while."261"But

..."

"No buts. Follow me."

Charlie had no choice. He was led down to the hall, where there was a strong smell of burning.

"I suppose the storm knocked the lights out," said Charlie.

There was no reply.

"Can I get my bag?" asked Charlie.

"No bag. No fraternizing," growled Weedon as he fiddled with the main doors.

"The bolts are broken," Charlie observed. "Was that the storm, too?"

"Shut up!" said Weedon.

Charlie followed the burly figure across the courtyard and down into the square. The streetlights still gave out their bright glow, and Charlie saw a black car parked beside the school steps.

"Get in," Weedon ordered.

Charlie obeyed. He was a little frightened and very confused. This had never happened before. Why hadn't he been given detention or some other262punishment? Weedon swung himself into the driver's seat and turned on the engine.

"Why is this happening?" cried Charlie. "What's going on? Can't you tell me, please, Mr.

Weedon?"

"I can tell you one thing, Charlie Bone." An ugly smile crossed Weedon's face. "Your friend, the weather boy, was drowned tonight."263CHAPTER 13

CHARLIE IS SUSPENDED

I don't believe you. The words were on Charlie's tongue but he couldn't utter them. A sickening, deadly chill settled over him and he knew it must be true. Dagbert-the-drowner had won. And Tancred had lost.

Charlie held his face in a rigid mask. He would not let the man beside him see the tears that had filled his eyes. But Weedon did not even glance at Charlie. The janitor was staring at the road ahead. Raindrops the size of pebbles began to lash the windshield and intermittent thunder rolled above the city.

"Who does he think he is," growled Weedon, "that thunder man?"

The thunder man! So Tancred's father knew what had happened. Had he tried to save his son? Charlie wondered. He didn't want to speak to Weedon, but264suddenly found himself asking, "Did Mr. Torsson come to the school?"

"Huh!" Weedon grunted. "Don't know how he knew, but he was there all right. Nearly set fire to the place."

"But he couldn't save Tancred?"

"No." Weedon put on a silly, spiteful voice. "He couldn't save his little boy."

Charlie gritted his teeth. There were no more questions to ask.

"Soon there won't be any of you left, will there, Charlie Bone? Now that little Billy's gone." Weedon gave a hoarse cackle. "You might as well give up and use your talent for something useful. Give old Mr. Ezekiel a hand."

Never, thought Charlie.

"I hope you haven't forgotten your mommy and daddy, all alone on the big wild sea."

Weedon's tone had changed. He sounded in deadly earnest.

Charlie didn't have to answer. They had arrived outside number nine Filbert Street.265"Get out," said Weedon.

As soon as Charlie had climbed out of the car, Weedon leaned over and slammed the passenger door. The car sped off, showering Charlie with a muddy spray.

Charlie imagined that Maisie would answer the door. He began to prepare an explanation for his sudden arrival. But he needn't have bothered. It was Grandma Bone who stood on the threshold when the door opened. She had obviously been waiting for Charlie.

"They've told me everything," Grandma Bone said grimly as Charlie stepped into the hall. "Upstairs."

"Could I have... ?"

"Nothing," she said. "That's what you can have. Nothing."

"But I'm so hungry." Charlie clutched his stomach. "I haven't eaten since ..."

"Didn't you hear me?" His grandmother raised her voice. "Upstairs."

Maisie's frightened face appeared around the266kitchen door. "What's going on?" she asked. "Charlie? You're soaked, love. What's happened?"

"None of your business," said Grandma Bone.

Annoyed by her tone, Maisie walked assertively into the hall. "It certainly is my business.

Charlie's soaked. Come into the kitchen, Charlie."

"I haven't eaten since breakfast," Charlie said with desperation. "I'm so hungry, Maisie."

"He has been suspended from school," said Grandma Bone. "He is being punished for outrageous behavior."

"You surely wouldn't begrudge him a sandwich, Grizelda." Maisie felt Charlie's damp cape. "Take that off. You'd die of pneumonia and starvation if some people had their way." She threw a defiant look at Grandma Bone and pulled off Charlie's wet cape.

"One sandwich," said Grandma Bone, reluctantly. "Then bed." She went upstairs and slammed her door.

Maisie drew Charlie to the stove and sat him down in the rocker. "Tell me everything, Charlie.267What's been going on?" She went to the fridge and brought out an armful of food. "You'll soon have the biggest sandwich I can manage. So come on, Charlie. Tell all."

Maisie's kindness was too much for Charlie. A sob rose up from his chest and threatened to choke him. "Oh, Maisie," he cried, "Tancred's dead."

"What?" Maisie stared at him aghast.

The tears that Charlie had been holding back now streamed down his face and dripped onto his hands as he vainly tried to wipe them away.

"Charlie! Charlie, tell me what happened?" begged Maisie, using her handkerchief to dab Charlie's cheeks.

"I don't know, Maisie. I don't know. I was locked up." And Charlie told Maisie everything that had happened until the moment Claerwen had emerged from her shining cocoon. "I knew Tancred had been tricked, then." Charlie gave a shuddering sigh and wiped his eyes. "But I never thought Dagbert would... would really drown him."268"So, it's come to this." Maisie put a plate of huge sandwiches on Charlie's lap. "I'm glad you've been suspended, Charlie. I don't think you should ever go back to that awful place."

"But I've got to, Maisie. There's only three of them now. Well, four, if you count Olivia, I suppose. They NEED me there."

"No, they don't. Your family needs you. I need you. And there's an end to it." Maisie pulled up a chair and sat opposite Charlie, watching him eat.

It would be useless to try and explain, Charlie realized. He could hardly explain it to himself, this instinctive need to be with the others: Gabriel, Emma, Olivia, and Lysander.

Because only if they were together, could they stop the shadow from returning to the city and... And what? Charlie didn't even dare to think about that.

"Claerwen!" he cried. "She's in my pocket."

Maisie caught the plate that would have rolled off Charlie's knees as he leaped up and ran into the hall. The white moth had climbed out of his pocket and269now sat on top of the coat hook, sending tiny rays of light across the dark hall. She immediately flew onto Charlie's arm and he carried her into the kitchen.

Maisie watched Charlie settle back into the rocker and handed him his plate. "Don't think you can go traveling again," she said, eyeing the moth. "Grandma Bone's taken the key to the cellar door. So you can't get into that painting, Charlie, with or without your little moth."

"Oh?" Charlie gave Maisie a sideways look. "Billy is in Badlock, Maisie. He wasn't at school."

"Whatever you say, Charlie." Maisie folded her arms across her chest. "Now you eat up that sandwich and go to bed, or your other grandma will be down here telling me to pack my bags, or else."

Charlie didn't want that to happen. If Maisie went, number nine wouldn't be a home at all.

So he wolfed down the rest of the very delicious sandwiches and dutifully went up to his room.

In a last, long, mournful rumble, the thunder270rolled away and the storm's heavy tears became a thin drizzle. The troubled citizens fluffed their pillows, closed their eyes, and fell asleep at last. But if any of them had been watching the Heights, they would have seen three bright lights - red, orange, and yellow - moving swiftly up the hill toward the Thunder House.

When the great cathedral clock chimed two, Charlie was still wide awake. How could he have slept after such a dreadful day? He put his hand under his bed and touched the iron kettle. He had expected it to be hot, but it was barely warm.

Claerwen appeared to be asleep. She lay with folded wings at the end of Charlie's bed. A few hours ago Charlie had been more afraid than at any other time in his life. And yet here, in his room, the danger seemed to have receded. The city was quiet, except for a sound, quite close. A light, rhythmic beat.

Charlie went to the window and looked out. Was that a horse, trotting down the street?

He must be mistaken. But when a white horse moved into the271circle of light thrown out by the streetlight, Charlie saw the rider; he saw the red feathers, lifting in the breeze, like a halo around the silver helmet. And he saw the jeweled scabbard at the knight's side, and the glint of the Red Knight's sword hilt.

Charlie watched the Red Knight and his horse move slowly down the street. He watched until they had disappeared from sight, then he lay on his bed and fell fast asleep.272CHAPTER 14

THE PAINTING VANISHES

Bloor's Academy was in shock. Something had happened to Tancred Torsson, that much was certain. But very few people knew what it was. The Children of the Red King knew and they weren't telling.

There had been a thunderstorm. The sculpture room was flooded; the school had been in darkness for twenty-four hours. The coatroom signs were scorched and a strong smell of burning lingered in the hall.

Rumors abounded. Some said that Tancred had drowned. Students kept their distance from Dagbert Endless. The staff carried out their duties but most of them seemed distracted. They lost their lesson notes, forgot their books, and on occasion, even went to the wrong classroom.

Lysander Sage was in danger of exploding into violence. His mind was in a turmoil; his thoughts full273of vengeance for his lost friend. Such passion was bound to wake his spirit ancestors, and the sound of their drumbeats followed Lysander wherever he went.

Dr. Bloor knew better than to rebuke him, aware that it would probably make things worse.

Only Mrs. Tilpin, in her flooded rooms, threatened to "do something" about Lysander Sage. With water underfoot and drumming overhead, she complained to Manfred that she was losing her mind. "And then where would you be?" she snarled. Manfred told her to bide her time.

Dr. Saltweather spent more and more time in the blue cafeteria. He was frequently seen in Cook's company. They both looked worn out with talking.

Two days after the thunderstorm, Gabriel and Fidelio reached the cafeteria five minutes before lunchtime. As they had hoped, Cook and Dr. Saltweather were sitting at a table in the corner. They were deep in conversation and didn't notice the two boys enter the cafeteria. Cook had her back to them.274Fidelio gave a slight cough as he approached the corner table. He didn't want to give Cook a fright.

Dr. Saltweather looked up and said, "What do you boys want? You're five minutes early."

"We wanted to ask you something, sir." Gabriel looked over his shoulder to make sure no one had followed them.

Cook swung around quickly and smiled with relief. "I'm glad it's you two," she said.

"We know what happened to Tancred," Fidelio said solemnly. "Emma told us. And that's bad enough ..."

"It's about the worst thing that's ever happened" - Gabriel brushed his floppy hair out of his eyes - "and I still can't really believe it. There are so many rumors flying around. But what we can't figure out is -"

"What's happened to Charlie, sir?" Fidelio said in a rush. "He was here on Monday, then he was sent to the headmaster, and we haven't seen him since."

"He's been suspended." Dr. Saltweather gave a275wry smile. "For damaging a valuable painting. But he'll be back next week."

"Don't worry, boys. Dagbert hasn't got to him yet." Cook suddenly grabbed Gabriel's arm.

"Perhaps I can ask you something now. Do you know what's happened to little Billy Raven?"

Gabriel looked at Fidelio before saying, "Yes. Emma told us. Charlie thinks Billy is in Badlock."

"What?" Cook jumped up and looked hard at Gabriel. "That can't be true. Billy's not a traveler. And why would Charlie think that?"

"There's a painting in Charlie's cellar," Gabriel told her. "His great-aunt put it there. It's a picture of Badlock, Charlie says, where the shadow lives. Billy went into the cellar... and never came out."

Cook and Dr. Saltweather looked so shocked Fidelio added quickly, "Dr. Bloor says Billy came back here, but we haven't seen him."

"And nor have I." Cook spoke so quietly they could hardly hear her. "Nor have I."276"What should we do, sir?" Gabriel asked Dr. Saltweather.

The large music teacher stood up. "Keep me posted," he said. "That's all I can suggest.

Let me know everything you think I should know, and I'll do my best to find out what's going on."

Dr. Saltweather marched out of the cafeteria just as a crowd of music students came rushing in. They began to line up beside the counter, and Cook hurried into the kitchen.

Fidelio and Gabriel went to the back of the line. Neither of them wanted to stand directly behind Dagbert Endless. Fidelio allowed a gap to form until he was several feet away from Dagbert.

"What's the matter?" Dagbert turned and gave Fidelio one of his icy blue-green stares.

"What have I done?"

"You tell me," said Fidelio, bravely closing the gap.

Dagbert shrugged and moved on.277No one wanted to sit with Dagbert. But he didn't seem to care. He took his plate of spaghetti to a far corner and started eating. He didn't look up once during the whole meal. But he walked out without having dessert, even though it was treacle tart. He'd been summoned by the talents master. But Dagbert didn't want anyone else to know that. He was going to be late, but he didn't see why he should go without a bit of spaghetti to keep up his strength.

Manfred was in his study eating when Dagbert knocked on the door.

"You're late," called Manfred. "Come in, then, Dagbert."

"Sorry, sir." Dagbert pressed the knot of wood and the door swung inward.

"I told you to come before lunch," said Manfred, without looking up from his plate.

"I'd have missed the spaghetti." Dagbert eyed the slice of tart on Manfred's plate. "I went without my treacle tart, anyway."278"Don't think you can have mine." Manfred gave Dagbert a spiteful glance. "Going without lunch was supposed to be part of your punishment."

"Punishment?" Dagbert looked extremely offended. "What have i done?"

"Now you're being stupid." Manfred pushed the last of his tart into his mouth and washed it down with a glass of water.

Dagbert waited, inwardly fuming, but not confident enough to show it.

"The flood," Manfred said at last. "You didn't have to go that far. Fairy Tilpin's furious.

The water seeped into all her rooms. Now she's demanding to be relocated."

Dagbert's arctic eyes roved around Manfred's study. "It's a big house," he said. "I'm sure you could squeeze her into a room in the west wing."

"Not enough bathrooms," said Manfred. "Dad and I don't like sharing."

"She'd only need a sink and a..."

"Stop talking about bathrooms." Manfred's fist279came down hard on his desk. "I'm disappointed in you, Dagbert. I thought we had an understanding. I'm afraid you're getting detention. The headmaster has ordered it. No going home on Saturday."

Dagbert smiled. He hated his temporary home in the fish shop, where an elderly guardian cooked unappetizing food, washed his clothes, snored in bed, and never spoke to him.

"And you can stop smiling," said Manfred. "You've drowned someone. You were not supposed to do that. You were only supposed to scare him. What possessed you?"

Dagbert let his gaze drift down to his feet. He wasn't afraid of Manfred, but he knew the talents master could probably hypnotize him, if he wanted to. "I couldn't stop myself. I suppose I was trying to prove I was as strong as my father."

"Ah, the family curse." Manfred lifted an eyebrow. "Do you believe it, then?"

Dagbert shuffled his feet. "I have to. It's written in the annals of the North, and they have never lied.280When the Lord Grimwald's first son is in his thirteenth year, he attains full power, and either he or his father dies. In eight hundred years the prophecy has never failed. My mother gave me the sea-gold charms to help me overcome my father."

Dagbert lifted his head and his eyes flashed defiantly. "But Tancred Torsson got under my skin, he taunted me, he stole a sea-gold creature ... he ... he ... had to be stopped."

The talents master listened to Dagbert and a thin smile softened his gaunt features. "You shouldn't have done it, though. You'll have to make amends to Fairy Tilpin."

Dagbert shrugged. "I'll clean out a room for her or carry her stuff upstairs, if you like."

"Good idea. I daresay we can find somewhere in the attics. She seems to like the dark."

Manfred smiled again, this time to himself. "You can go now." He waved his hand. *

"Thank you, sir." Dagbert walked over to the door

and, turning to Manfred, added, "I always try to do what you want. Always."281"I know you do," said the talents master. "And very soon you'll be called upon to perform the hardest task of your life. Until that time comes, you must keep an eye on Charlie Bone."

"A picture traveler?" Dagbert snorted. "What can he do?"

"Don't underestimate him." A look of hatred crossed Manfred's face. "The blood of a Welsh wizard runs in Charlie Bone's veins. And something tells me that he has reclaimed his wand."

Charlie had been confined to the house for almost a week. He longed to talk to his friends and worried about the schoolwork he was missing. How would he catch up when he returned to Bloor's? He'd have to work all day and all night, if he didn't want to get detention.

On Friday morning Grandma Bone carried a pile of books up to Charlie's room. Attached to the books were several lengthy notes from his teachers.282"You're to do all this work before Monday," she said, plunking the books on Charlie's table.

Charlie looked at the notes and sighed. They were from Mr. Carp, English; Mr. Pope, history; Madame Tessier, French; and Mrs. Fortescue, biology. "All of it? It's much more than I usually have in a whole week. I can't do it."

"You can and will," said Grandma Bone, and strode out.

Charlie sat at his table and began with history. There were so many dates to memorize.

He would need help.

"Claerwen!" Charlie called softly.

The white moth flew down from the curtain and settled on Charlie's wrist.

"Helpu ji," said Charlie, using the language his Welsh moth preferred. "Help me."

Claerwen crawled quickly up Charlie's arm and came to rest on his shoulder, just beneath his right ear. Charlie read the dates aloud; once, twice, three times, then he closed his eyes and let Claerwen's283gentle presence seep into his mind. Opening his eyes, he covered half a page with his hand, so that only the questions were visible. He found that he could remember every single date.

"Thank you, Claerwen." Charlie closed his book with a smile. Not for the first time, he wondered about his Welsh ancestor, the magician who had made a wand of ash wood, a wand so cunning it could transform and survive all attempts to destroy it.

The front door slammed and Charlie looked out of the window. Grandma Bone was walking briskly up Filbert Street. She wore her gray shopping hat and carried a large black basket.

"I think it's time for you and me to go and find Billy," Charlie said to the white moth.

Maisie was in the kitchen with the volume turned up high on the television. It would be difficult to convince her that he must try, just once more, to rescue Billy. Charlie would have to distract her, somehow, so that he could get the cellar key. And then his heart sank as he remembered that Grandma Bone284had taken the key away. He was about to open the kitchen door when Claerwen suddenly left his arm and flew down the passage toward the cellar.

"What is it?" Charlie followed the moth.

The cellar door appeared to be open, just a fraction. An invitation, perhaps, for Charlie to enter the painting again and be trapped forever. Or did Grandma Bone know that the shadow would block any attempt to reach Billy, and therefore locking the cellar was an unnecessary precaution?

Charlie stood at the top of the cellar steps, pondering. He descended one, two, three steps and peered down into the dimness of the dank-smelling room. It had changed in some way. He went down another three steps until he could see the whole cellar.

The painting was gone.

"No!" Charlie rushed up the steps and along the passage, crying, "Maisie, Maisie, it's gone. Where did it go?"285He burst into the kitchen where Maisie was sitting in her favorite armchair, enthralled by a sappy movie.

"What's wrong?" she muttered, wiping a tear from her eye.

"The painting!" Charlie shouted. "The one in the cellar? Where is it, Maisie?"

"How should I know?" she said, still held by the drama on the screen.

"But I can't get into Badlock," cried Charlie.

"If you ask me," said Maisie with a sigh, "it's all for the best."286CHAPTER 15

THE SHADOW'S PALACE

Billy's journey into Badlock had been swift. One minute he had been putting out his hand to touch the painted Runner Bean, and the next something had seized his arm and dragged him forward, past the howling dog and into a mist that fell around him like the softest rain. On and on, through a forest of silver trees and shining lakes. Sometimes he flew and sometimes he gently walked a path that whispered like silk beneath his bare feet.

And now here he was, standing before a door as tall as a lamppost - an iron door with small sharp spikes protruding from it; they ran down each side, across the top, and all along the bottom. There was no handle and no lock, which suggested that the door must be opened either by some heat-sensitive device - or by magic.

As soon as Billy realized that he wasn't dead, or even hurt, that he could breathe just as easily as he287had before the painting had kidnapped him, he forgot to be frightened, and curiosity took over. He stepped back to get a better look at the building that spread into the mist on either side of the iron door. It was like a fortress, but the walls appeared to be made of marble: smooth, glossy black marble whose surface had an oily gleam in the

moist air. Halfway up the walls, iron brackets had been set into the marble. There must have been at least twenty of them, and in every one a smoky, tarry fire blazed.

Badlock was not how Charlie had described it. There was a wind that Billy could hear moaning and howling in the distance, but it did not touch him in any way. His smooth white hair remained unruffled, his face and hands merely warmed by the flames above him.

Billy turned around and found that, if he had taken just one step more, he would have fallen to his death, for he was standing at the very edge of a steep cliff. Below him a vast plain stretched to the horizon where strange narrow towers pointed at288the sky. On either side of the plain, barren gray mountains rose endlessly into the purple clouds that rushed in every direction above the bleak and seemingly deserted land.

A voice, slippery as satin, said, "Well now, Billy Raven!"

Billy swung around with a gasp. The iron door had opened soundlessly, and there stood a man Billy had seen only once before, but whose image had burned in his memory ever since.

Count Harken, the shadow, was of average height, but he gave the impression of being much, much taller. His shining, gold-flecked hair rose high from his forehead; his eyes were brown one moment, the next a deep olive green. He had prominent cheekbones and a high-bridged, imperious nose. He was dressed entirely in emerald-green velvet.

Billy opened his mouth, and closed it uselessly.

"Enter." The count stood back and made a mocking bow. "Welcome to my palace."

Billy stood frozen to the ground. Beyond the289count he could see a long hallway carpeted with furs. Rush lights flared from the black marble walls, and worst of all, to Billy, the ceiling was hung with the heads of many animals, their glassy eyes still reflecting the terror of their capture.

"What ails you, boy? Come." Count Harken seized Billy by the arm and dragged him inside. The iron door closed silently behind him.

"Follow," commanded the count.

Billy had no choice. Stepping as lightly as he could over the soft pelts of bears and tigers, he followed his host down the long, death-filled hallway, half-closing his eyes so that he could not see the distant heads that he was walking beneath. And it was then that Rembrandt chose to speak.

"Billy, where are we? What's up?" the rat squeaked.

The count whirled around. "What is that?"

Billy had completely forgotten that Rembrandt was sleeping deep in his pajama pocket.

Without thinking, he answered, "My rat, sir."290"What is that?" the count demanded.

"I told you, sir, my rat," said Billy.

"WHAT IS THAT?" bellowed the count.

It dawned on Billy that the count did not actually know what a rat was, or had somehow forgotten. He gently lifted Rembrandt from his pocket and held him out.

"Oops!" squeaked Rembrandt. "This is bad news, Billy."

"I had forgotten about rats," grunted the count. "We do not have rats here. My soldiers ate every one of them, long, long ago. Give it to me."

"No." Billy clasped Rembrandt to his chest. "I can't. I can't live without Rembrandt. I won't!"

The count looked surprised. "You have spirit, boy. Very well, you can keep the odd-named thing, if it suits you. It spoke. Don't deny it. I know you understand its language.

What did it say?"

Billy wondered if the question was a trick. Perhaps the count could speak the language of animals. Billy291decided to chance a lie. "He said we are in a fine place, sir."

The count eyed Billy quizzically. "Did it say that? Hmmm. I shall have to trust you - for now." He turned and strode on, his long pointed shoes gliding softly over the thick furs.

And Billy followed, feeling almost guilty that such a carpet should be so warm and comforting to his bare toes.

It took considerable time to reach the end of the hallway, but at last they were there and another iron door slid back soundlessly to reveal a vast chamber. Suspended from the roof by iron chains were three circles, set one upon the other at intervals of twelve inches or so. The smallest was at the top, the widest at the bottom. At least fifty candles had been set into each circle, and every one burned with a fierce white flame. Billy was so taken with this amazing chandelier, it took him several seconds to notice the three figures, seated before a huge fire, at one end of the chamber.292"My family!" the count announced. He dragged Billy forward. "And this is it!"

"The boy!" cried a girl, leaping up from a mound of cushions. "You have brought it." As if Billy were a thing.

She came bounding toward Billy, over a sea of rugs, a small, bright-faced girl with black curls and round brown eyes. She wore a long yellow dress, patterned with golden flowers, and her wide smile immediately put Billy at ease. When she saw Rembrandt, however, she stopped abruptly and, pointing at the rat, cried, "What is that?"

"A rat, child," the count told her, "from your grandmother's land. It won't harm you. The boy holds it fast in his power." He turned to Billy. "Matilda is my granddaughter. Over there" - he pointed to the fireplace - "you see my grandson, Edgar, and my wife, Lilith."

Billy nodded wordlessly. The boy, in a dark green jacket and britches, did not look up from the book on his lap. The woman, however, turned to stare at293Billy from the large chair where she reclined. Her head rested on the chair's tall carved back, her hands lay on the thick wooden arms. When Billy met her black-eyed gaze, he felt a chill run through him, and Rembrandt whispered, "This is a mistake."

"It made a noise," cried Matilda. "Your rat, sir."

"I am not a sir," Billy said quietly. "I am just Billy."

At this, the boy looked up. He was older than his

sister by at least four years, and he was not a bit like

her. His blond hair was neatly cut, and his eyes a

startling green.

Matilda came up to Billy, still watching Rembrandt anxiously, but Billy hastily slipped the black rat into his pocket, and this brought the smile back into her face. "I like your mask, sir, but it is glass, and I can see right through it." She touched the arm of Billy's glasses. "It is something from the future, maybe." "Urn - yes," said Billy.

"Oh, and your eyes are the color of berries," she went on. "How lovely. And your dress too is most interesting. But you have no shoes."294"I didn't have time to put them on,"

said Billy, glancing at the count.

"Our grandfather told us that he would bring a boy from the future for our amusement."

Matilda gently drew Billy toward the great marble fireplace. "And he said it would be our duty to care for you. Isn't that right, my lord?"

"Make sure he is ready to dine." The count threw these words at Matilda as he walked back to the iron door, which obediently opened for him and closed after he had gone.

Billy stood before the roaring fire. On his right, Edgar had returned to his book; on his left, Lilith continued to stare at him. Billy felt intensely uncomfortable. Her gaze was so hostile all attempts at conversation drained away from him. Luckily, Matilda was a chatterer.

"I shall take you to the room we have prepared for you," she said. "I think you'll like it, Billy. And there are new clothes for you - and even shoes. And you shall have a servant, of course, to..."295"I think I should be getting back now," Billy said.

Matilda looked baffled. "Back where?" she asked.

"Back to my home." Billy found he was trembling. "I don't belong here. I want to go.

Why can't I go home?" He turned to the stony-faced Lilith. "Why am I here?"

"You don't have a home," said the woman.

For a moment Billy was too shocked to speak, and then he said, "I do, I do. I live with Charlie Bone."

"That's a lie," she said. "They house you out of pity. But they do not want you."

At these words a numbing coldness settled on Billy. He barely felt Matilda's touch on his arm but followed her blindly over to the door, which slid open before they had even reached it.

Matilda led Billy a few feet down the hallway of furs, and then turned and climbed a narrow marble stairway. At the top there was a long hallway where a single rush light burned at the far end. Matilda walked toward the light and stopped before a door296that had a real latch. She lifted the latch and Billy followed her into the room that was to be his - but for how long? He dared not think.

It wasn't so bad. A fire burned in an iron grate and the walls were a soft-green-colored marble. The bed was a high four-poster, hung with ivory-colored curtains. There was a fur rug, a chair, and a large oak chest. A set of clothes lay on the bed: a blue velvet jacket, braided in gold at the collar and cuffs, and blue and gold pants. The shoes had been placed at the foot of the bed. They had long pointed toes and gold decorations.

"The enchanter says we are very fortunate." Matilda lifted the blue jacket. "In other lands they have rough clothing; boys have to wear coarse woolen stockings and scratchy tunics.

Here, in Badlock, we are very advanced."

"Really?" Billy walked over to the fire and held his hands before its blaze. The chill that had descended on him wouldn't lift. He had no home but this.

Matilda hitched herself up onto the bed and297swung her legs. "You can be happy here, Billy, can't you? I am so lonely sometimes. Edgar will never be a friend, so I have none."

She paused. "And I am afraid of the enchanter and his wife."

She spoke as though they were barely related, Billy thought. And yet, weren't they her grandparents, the enchanter and his wife?

"Where's your mom?" asked Billy.

"My mother? She is dead, of a weakness of the heart. My father, too. He was a brave knight. His name was Gervais de Roussillon, and he was killed in an unfair fight."

Matilda lowered her voice. "My old nurse said the enchanter had a hand in my father's murder. But I cannot tell for sure." She glanced nervously around the room.

"What is it?" said Billy. "Are you afraid of something?"

"You will soon see," she replied. "I can hear his footsteps."

And Billy did see, for a moment later, a patch on one of the marbled walls began to move, like worms298squirming in mud; a fuzzy cloud appeared, as though the marble were steaming, and through the cloud stepped Edgar.

"You could have used the door," said Matilda.

"I chose not to," retorted her brother. "You are required to dine, immediately." He threw a look of contempt at Billy. "Why are you not dressed properly?"

Billy gazed helplessly at Matilda.

"He has not had the time," she said, jumping from the bed. "I will..."

"Leave him," said Edgar. "The servant will do it." Without another word, Edgar shuffled backward, and with an awkward twist of his shoulders and an ungainly swing of his right foot, he allowed the wall to swallow him up.

Matilda grinned at Billy. "Luckily, Edgar is not careful with his talent. I can always hear him coming, and his exits and entrances are very rude and clumsy. Listen, you can hear him even now."299Billy could indeed hear stumbling footsteps retreating down the passage.

Matilda crossed the room and opened the door. "You can come in, now," she called. "I'll see you in the dining hall," she told Billy.

He was alone for only a second before a squat figure darted into the room and began tearing at his pajamas.

"NO!" cried Billy.

The small being looked up at him aghast. Billy couldn't tell if it was male or female. With a woolen cap covering its head and presumably its hair, its face without eyebrows, and its body so wide and lumpy, it was difficult to tell where its waist might have been or where its legs began.

"You can wait outside," said Billy.

To his surprise, the being shuffled out and gently closed the door.

Billy took off his pajamas himself and put on the blue velvet suit. Next came the shoes.

These were a300problem. They didn't fit very well and the long toes made a slapping noise when he walked. It was like wearing flippers. Billy felt silly, but then bare feet would look even sillier, he realized. To his dismay, he found there were no pockets in his jacket or pants. He couldn't possibly leave Rembrandt behind. What would he eat?

"Urn, excuse me," called Billy, not knowing how to address the being outside. "You can come in now."

The thing opened the door a fraction and peeked in. Its eyes were the gray-brown color of bark, but there was kindness in them.

"Please, can you help me?" said Billy. "I need a ... a pocket or a bag or ... or something."

The creature came in and stood before Billy. "Dorgo," it said in a masculine voice.

"Name Dorgo, me. What for you want pocket?"

Dorgo hadn't noticed the rat sitting on Billy's bed, cleaning himself.

"For him," Billy pointed at Rembrandt.301Dorgo gave an earsplitting scream and clutched Billy around the waist. "What? What? What?" he cried.

"He's only a rat," said Billy.

"And what's he?" squeaked Rembrandt, staring at the trembling Dorgo.

"A person," whispered Billy. He gently pushed the terrified Dorgo away, saying to the creature, "He really won't hurt you, but I need to put him in something, so that I can carry him with me."

Dorgo nodded. Without raising his eyes from the floor, he walked over to the oak chest and lifted the lid. He proceeded to rummage in the chest, like a burrowing rabbit, sending shoes and clothing flying out in all directions. After a few seconds he reached the bottom and pulled out a leather belt with a gold-braided pouch attached to it. He held it out, still with his eyes lowered.

"Perfect. Thank you," said Billy, fastening the belt around his waist. He grabbed Rembrandt and popped him into the pouch.302"Now what?" squealed Rembrandt.

"Food," Billy replied. "I hope."

Dorgo had closed his eyes. Billy touched him on the shoulder. "I believe the people here eat rats," he said, "so please don't tell anyone else about it."

"Never, never, never," said Dorgo. He opened his eyes, rushed to the chest, flung back its contents, and closed the lid. "Follow, please. Master dine now," he said.

To be called "master" was rather satisfying. It made Billy feel instantly taller and more confident. "Lead the way," he said, more pompously than he intended.

"Oh dear!" came the muffled remark from the gold pouch.

Dorgo shuddered and scurried out of the room. He led Billy down the marble stairway, along the hallway of heads and furs, and into the most astonishing room Billy had ever seen. Although, to call it a room would hardly be accurate. It was a vast black-marble hall, with a high vaulted ceiling of303glittering stars. The walls were hung with weapons and precious objects: spears, shining swords, shields decorated with mythical creatures, tiger skins, painted masks, a golden wheel, horns of ivory, gilt-framed mirrors, tapestries embroidered with pearls, diamonds, and emeralds, and things that Billy had never seen but could only assume were used in warfare. He stood in the doorway with his mouth agape.

The count was sitting at the far end of a glass-topped table at least twenty feet long. "Be seated, Billy Raven," he called, and his voice echoed up to the glittering ceiling, increasing the light from the golden stars.

Lilith had her back to the door, Edgar and Matilda sat facing each other, halfway down the table. Billy was relieved to see an empty place setting beside Matilda's. As he made his way toward her, Dorgo followed - pulling out Billy's chair and pushing it in once he was seated. Matilda gave Billy a reassuring smile.304Billy noticed that they all had a version of Dorgo standing behind them. And there were other servants standing at intervals around the room. They each held a golden tray. Almost everything on the table was made of gold: the candelabra, the plates, bowls, cups, knives, and spoons. There was so much shine, Billy had to remove his glasses and rub his eyes.

"Have you ever had an enchanted dinner, Billy Raven?" boomed the count from the end of the table.

Billy shook his head.

"You are about to," said the count. "What do you wish to eat?"

"Urn, spaghetti, please," said Billy.

"Spaghetti," said the count to a tall servant, dressed more grandly than the others.

There was a long silence while the tall servant stared at his empty tray. Then he cleared his throat and, lifting his head, sang out, "Not known."

304305"Not known! Not known! Not known!" repeated the other servants.

Billy was embarrassed.

"Another," the count commanded.

Billy tried to think of something that everyone throughout the ages must have eaten.

"Bread," he said.

"Bread," boomed the count.

The tall servant's tray instantly filled with black loaves. Dorgo grabbed Billy's plate, rushed over to the man with the tray of loaves, put them all on Billy's plate, and brought it back to him.

"Countess?" This time the count's voice filled the hall. It had to, in order to reach his wife.

Lilith recited a list of peculiar names. The count repeated them, and the tall servant's tray filled with peculiar-looking fruits - or were they vegetables? Lilith's servant rushed to receive them and delivered them to his mistress.

Edgar chose raggots, maggots, cabbage, and306cheesum - all of which looked disgusting.

Matilda chose Cordioni soup, which smelled delicious, and the count went for the same stuff as his wife.

Billy felt very self-conscious with his plate of black bread. He had no idea how to eat it.

"Dinner?" Rembrandt said hopefully.

Before Rembrandt's squeaks became too loud, Billy attacked a loaf. Tearing it apart with his bare hands, he managed to get a sizeable chunk into the pouch on his lap.

When Rembrandt squeaked his thanks, Matilda giggled. Edgar glared at his sister and said, "The boy is giving food to a creature. That is rude and wasteful."

Count Harken waved his hand dismissively. "No matter, Edgar. It occupies our guest."

Edgar sullenly pushed a spoonful of food into his mouth. But from the other end of the table, the countess continued to stare at Billy, even while she ate her unpronounceable meal. Her look was so heartless, Billy wished he were a thousand miles away,307back in Charlie Bone's house, even if he wasn't wanted there.

The second course was much better than the first. Matilda advised Billy to ask for pears sweetened in wine. They were delicious, just as she had promised.

After dinner, Dorgo led Billy back to his room. The little servant turned down the bedcovers and left Billy with a single candle burning in a metal saucer on the chest. Billy changed into his pajamas and got into bed. He watched the candle flame burn lower and lower and wondered if he would ever sleep. He was very tired but his mind continued to wander through the glittering rooms below.Charlie will come get me,he thought,because he can travel.

Outside, the distant wind moaned across the plain. And then, above the wind, came the sound of heavy feet, dragging themselves across the ground. They were accompanied by a scuffling and shuffling and the rattle of chains.308Billy jumped out of bed and looked into the hallway. Dorgo was sitting beside the door. His head lolled forward, but he was not asleep.

"What, master?" asked Dorgo.

"I heard something," said Billy. "Footsteps."

"The giant, master."

"Giant?" said Billy.

"They bring him to dungeon. He bad. Punished he must be."

"What did he do?"

Dorgo sighed. "He hide boy-from-future, like you."

Charlie!thought Billy.Charlie's ancestor was a giant.

"Sleep now, master," said Dorgo.

Billy stepped back into his room and closed the door.309CHAPTER 16

THE SPY

It was Saturday morning. Charlie sat in his room feeling impatient and helpless. His thoughts kept returning to Tancred. How could someone with such a powerful endowment have been overcome? Charlie could not bring himself to believe that he would never again see Tancred's cheerful face and shock of blond, spiky hair, or the billowing green cape as Tancred's volatile nature brought on the wind and the rain. And then there was Billy.

If only the painting of Badlock could be found, Charlie was sure that his moth could help him reenter the shadowy, sinister world. He had no idea how he would find Billy, if he ever got to Badlock. He supposed he would figure out what to do when he got there.

Charlie wondered if Grandma Bone had hidden the painting in her bedroom. It was unlikely, but310there was a chance. If she had, she would probably have locked her door.

But...

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained," Charlie said to himself as he left his room.

He could hardly believe his luck. His grandmother's door was not locked. Charlie slipped into her room. It was extremely untidy and reeked of stale perfume. Articles of clothing overflowed from every drawer. Black stockings hung from the bedpost, a hat sat on the pillow, and underwear was scattered over the quilt. The dresser was covered in messy bottles and the mirror hung heavy with beads and bracelets.

Where to look? The painting was large and would not be easy to hide. Charlie looked under the bed. He counted ten pairs of shoes, but no painting. He looked in the closet: more shoes, ancient dresses, two fur coats smelling of mothballs, and too many skirts for Charlie to count. He was about to close the door when something caught his eye -

310311Grandma Bone's second-best handbag lay on top of a pair of suede boots.

Charlie pulled the bag into the light. It was made of patchworked leather and stuffed with scarves, gloves, and handkerchiefs. There was also a handful of bobby pins, lipstick, and a white card with yesterday's date at the top. Printed below were the words: Meeting of sympathizers to our cause

The Old Chapel, Piminy Street

Saturday 8:00

Bring card

""T."T.," Charlie murmured. ""IT is for Tilpin, and didn't someone say that Mrs. Tilpin's first name was Titania? He quickly memorized the message on the card, replaced it, and put the bag back into the closet.312Running to his room, Charlie jotted down the words he'd memorized in exactly the same order as he'd seen them. "About postcard-size," he muttered, "and the print is like a newspaper." He realized that he would never be able to attend the meeting himself. He needed an accomplice. An adult. No child would be able to get into the meeting.

Charlie knew exactly who to ask. He decided to wait until Benjamin came home. Mr. and Mrs. Brown would be working until then. In the meantime, there was more homework to do.

At precisely four o'clock, Charlie looked out of his window and saw Benjamin ambling down the street with his backpack slung across his shoulder. Charlie banged on the windowpane and waved violently. Benjamin looked up and waved back. He pointed at Charlie and then to number twelve. Charlie nodded and gave him a thumbs-up.

Two minutes later, Charlie walked downstairs and took his jacket from the hook in the hall. "I'm going to see Ben," he called out.313"You are not," said a voice from the kitchen. Grandma Bone appeared in the doorway. "You are not going anywhere until you've finished your homework."

"I have finished it," said Charlie.

Grandma Bone stared at him through narrowed eyes. "I suppose you cheated."

"How could I cheat?" asked Charlie. "It was all memorizing stuff. You can test me if you like."

His grandmother's eyes became even tinier slits. Her lips pursed into a wrinkled bud. She did not want to test Charlie because her favorite program was coming up on the radio.

"So I'm going, OK?" Charlie gave her a forced sort of grin.

The wrinkled bud of his grandmother's mouth relaxed and she said, "Fish for dinner."

"Great!" Charlie made for the door. Fish was his least favorite food and Grandma Bone knew it. She must have bought it specially to punish him. But he had far more important things to worry about.314Benjamin and Runner Bean gave him a great welcome, and as luck would have it, Mr. and Mrs. Brown had just returned from a very satisfactory bit of detective work. Flushed with success, they were now celebrating with a festive cup of tea in the kitchen.

While snacking on some tasty treats, Charlie told the Browns everything that had happened at Bloor's Academy before he'd been suspended. He kept his voice very steady while they gasped and exclaimed and paced about, because he knew that if he stopped talking, his eyes would fill with tears, and before that happened, he wanted to get to the real reason for his visit: the vanished painting and tonight's meeting on Piminy Street.

"Murder!" shouted Mr. Brown when Charlie had come to the end of his shocking account. "We can't let them get away with it."

"I feel like going to see that disgraceful excuse for a headmaster right now," said his wife.

Charlie shook his head. "They'll say it was an accident.315No one will be able to prove that Tancred was drowned on purpose."

Mrs. Brown patted her husband's hand. "Charlie's right. The police will never believe this Dagbert Endless boy has a ... a drowning power."

Charlie pulled the hastily scribbled note from his pocket and spread it out on the table.

"This is the message I found in Grandma Bone's handbag. I thought if we copied it, someone could take it to the meeting and find out what's going on."

Mr. and Mrs. Brown studied the note.

"Sympathizers?" muttered Mr. Brown, stroking the stubble he'd had to grow on his chin for his last case. "Sympathizers with what?"

"The cause," said Benjamin. "You know, Dad. All the bad stuff that's been going on."

"Ah." Mr. Brown scratched his stubble even more fiercely. "And you think we might learn something of their future plans, Charlie? Get one step ahead, as it were."316"That's

part of it," said Charlie. "But, actually, I thought you might find out where they've put the painting."

"Oh, yes. I could take a recorder. Get proof of the drowning. I've an excellent little instrument that fits into the arm of a pair of glasses."

Something about this device worried Charlie. There were people on Piminy Street who were gifted in ways that he could only begin to imagine. There might well be a clairvoyant among them, or someone with superhuman powers of detection. He explained this to the Browns, who reluctantly agreed that it would be safer to leave the recorder behind.

"Obviously, I can't go as myself," said Mr. Brown. "I would be instantly recognized as a non-sympathizer."

"I don't think you should go at all," said his wife. "Even in a disguise you would be recognized by people like that. It's your height and the way you move."

After a brief argument, which Mr. Brown lost,317Mrs. Brown went upstairs and returned fifteen minutes later looking nothing whatsoever like her old self. Three inches had been added to her height, not with high heels, but with ingeniously built-up boots. Her fair hair was tucked into a severe gray wig, and her face given a dusting of dark pink powder that made her look hot-tempered and irritable. Her eyebrows were thick and black, her nose was larger, and her lips had been reduced to thin, grayish lines.

For a moment Charlie actually believed that some evil-looking woman had broken into the house. When he realized who it was, he joined in with Benjamin's applause. Mrs.

Brown's transformation was truly amazing.

"Trish, you've surpassed yourself," congratulated Mr. Brown. "You've even fooled the dog."

Runner Bean had rushed out of the room and was now howling dismally in the hallway.

It took a good long sniff of Mrs. Brown's hand to convince him that the grim-looking stranger was none other than Benjamin's mother.318It was decided that Mr. and Mrs.

Brown (as herself) should drive to a quiet corner, not too far from Piminy Street. Once there, Mrs. Brown would change back into her disguise, and making sure that no one was watching, she would leave the car and make her way to Piminy Street. Mr. Brown would drive around for a bit, and then return to the same quiet corner and wait for Mrs. Brown to leave the meeting.

"I'll remove my disguise in the car," said Mrs. Brown, who was getting quite excited,

"and we'll drive back to Filbert Street, just like an ordinary couple who've been to the movies."

"Maybe Ben could sleep over at my house," Charlie suggested.

"Excellent," said Mr. Brown. "We'll leave Runner Bean to guard the house."

Runner Bean pricked up his ears, but didn't appear to object.

Mr. Brown printed out an exact replica of the invitation card Charlie had described, and at half past five,319Charlie and Benjamin wished Mrs. Brown good luck and walked over to number nine.

Maisie was alone in the kitchen when the boys walked in. She was pleased to see Benjamin and only too happy to let him stay the night.

Grandma Bone was not. A few minutes after the boys had arrived, she marched in and demanded to know why there was an overnight bag sitting in the middle of the kitchen, ready to trip someone up.

"Ben's staying the night," Charlie told her.

"Oh, is he? And who says?" asked Grandma Bone.

"He won't be any trouble, Grizelda," said Maisie.

"Maybe not" - Grandma Bone kicked Benjamin's bag aside - "but I like to be asked. What I don't like is irresponsible parents dumping their offspring, willy-nilly, on long-suffering neighbors."

Benjamin scowled and Maisie said, "Really, Grizelda! You take the cake."

Ignoring her, Grandma Bone demanded, "So what's the excuse this time?"320Making a superhuman effort to keep calm, Charlie said, "Sorry, Grandma, but Ben's parents were given tickets for this great movie, just half an hour ago, and Ben can't go because it's for adults only, so I thought he could come here for the night."

Grandma Bone glared at Charlie for several seconds before saying, "Fish for both of you," and sweeping out.

Maisie said quietly, "You don't have to have fish, boys. Grandma Bone won't be here.

She's going out for the evening. I'll give the fish to next door's cat."

Charlie and Benjamin were upstairs when Great-aunt Eustacia's car came snorting and squealing down Filbert Street. Peeping furtively over the win-dowsill, the boys saw Grandma Bone, dressed all in purple, climb into the passenger seat. The back of the car appeared to be rather full, and when it bumped off the curb and screeched down the road again, they saw a small pale face staring out of the rear window.321"They must be taking Eric to the meeting," said Charlie.

"Poor thing," said Benjamin.

After a very good dinner of scrambled eggs and beans and an hour watching television, the boys returned to Charlie's room just in time to observe Mr. and Mrs. Brown leaving number twelve. Mrs. Brown gave them a cheery wave and swung herself into the car. Mr.

Brown grinned at the boys in the window and then drove off, rather more expertly than Great-aunt Eustacia.

"I hope Mom'll be all right," Benjamin said anxiously.

"Of course she will," Charlie reassured him. "Your mom's the best private eye in the country."

Which was probably true.

Mr. Brown had chosen Argos Avenue, where the gardens and houses were hidden from the road by tall evergreen hedges. He parked beside the broad trunk of a plane tree and watched the road with an322expertise that only the most skilled detectives possess.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Brown swiftly applied her makeup, pulled on her wig, and exchanged her everyday winter coat for a moth-eaten and rather smelly fur coat. A plastic bag containing a rag soaked in chloroform was pushed into one pocket; in the other she had a pair of very sharp scissors and a bottle of smelling salts. The smelling salts were to help her recover from any fainting that might overcome her, after too much excitement.

The intrepid detective squeezed her feet into her built-up boots, gave her husband a kiss, and jumped out of the car.

"How do I look?" Mrs. Brown mouthed through the windshield at Mr. Brown.

Mr. Brown lifted his thumb. Reluctant to lose sight of his wife, he drove very slowly behind her as she walked down the road. She was approaching the turn onto Piminy Street when a group of three stepped out of a side street and hid Mrs. Brown from her

husband's view. Mr. Brown was worried. The323three people following his wife were all extremely wide and walked with clumsy, uneven strides.

Mr. Brown stopped the car at the top of Piminy Street. He dared not drive any farther, for fear of drawing attention to himself and thus arousing their suspicions. "Good luck, brave Trish!" he whispered.

Other groups now began to emerge from the houses on Piminy Street. They slid from behind trees, wafted through gates and out of doorways - silent, undefined figures, muffled in furs and hoods - all moving toward the Old Chapel.

Mrs. Brown was aware of the strangers accompanying her down Piminy Street. She had a momentary flutter of panic, and then sternly told herself that even if her true identity were discovered, no one would dare to harm her, unlike poor Tancred and little Billy.

People were now moving onto the dimly lit porch of the chapel. Mrs. Brown joined the throng and held out her card. It was grabbed by a tall man with elephants printed on his jacket. Mrs. Brown was324convinced she had seen the man before, but couldn't place him. He gave her an odd look and she quickly moved on. Finding a seat at the end of a row, close to the back, she sat down, breathing fast. Beside her sat a woman with lank red ringlets and over-rouged cheeks. She looked about ninety.

The sympathizers were unusually quiet people. They moved to their seats in wordless shufflings, only acknowledging one another with soft grunts and mumbles.

The Old Chapel was no longer used for worship. It had been standing derelict for as long as Mrs. Brown could remember. The windows had been boarded up and the altar removed. In its place green-velvet curtains hung from a long brass pole. The pulpit was now a stage.

The two wooden railings that had once separated the altar from the congregation were still in place and gleamed with polish. Deep green ivy twined its way along both rails and fell in long strands down each side of the steps, onto the cracked slate floor.325At the top of the steps, slightly to one side, a stone gargoyle squatted. It was a hideous thing with bulging eyes, long pointed ears, and a wide toothless mouth. Mrs. Brown tried not to look at it.

When every seat had been taken, the man in the elephant jacket closed the door. There was a moment's silence before footsteps could be heard tapping down the side of the hall.

A woman emerged at the front. She climbed the five steps to the stage and turned to face her audience.

Mrs. Brown saw a woman whose age could only be guessed at. She could have been anywhere between forty and eighty. Her hair fell in thin gray strands to her shoulders and a string of ivy encircled her head. There were dark shadows beneath her eyes, her nose was a pale mauve, and her gaunt face was ash gray. She was wearing a sparkling black cloak and a long dress that glimmered as she moved.

"Welcome!" said the woman in the sparkling cloak. "How gratifying to see that so many of you answered my call. For those of you who do not326know me, I am Titania Tilpin.

Like you, I am a direct descendant of the shadow, Harken the Enchanter."

A murmur of approval rippled through the audience. Mrs. Brown joined in. "Ahh," she said.

"As you know," Titania continued, "the shadow managed to return, very briefly, last year.

He might have stayed with us if it had not been for the interference of a wayward boy named Charlie Bone. Charlie and his infernal uncle discovered a spell that sent our

beloved ancestor tumbling back to Badlock, and now he cannot enter our world again because the mirror that assisted his entrance was broken by that same Charlie Bone."

A rumble of dismay broke out in the hall, and once again Mrs. Brown joined in with a disgruntled "Huh!" This time she felt the woman beside her turn and frown in her direction. Mrs. Brown hoped she had not overdone things.

"Don't lose heart, my friends," Titania sang out. "I want to show you something." She walked to the327side of the stage where a large painting stood facing the wall. Seizing the painting, Titania pulled it to the center of the stage. The dark towers and barren mountains of Badlock drew a gasp of admiration from the crowd. Mrs. Brown remained silent.

A curious sound came from the painting. Mrs. Brown could hardly believe her ears. It was wind. Several people in the front row actually clutched their hats as a cold breeze whistled across the stage.

"Behold Badlock!" Titania said proudly. "The shadow painted it himself, and it has an awful power. It can draw into itself any living thing." Before anyone could gasp again, she held up her hand for silence. "And would you believe, THERE IS A BOY IN

THERE" - she tapped the painting - "RIGHT NOW. A boy the shadow is holding for some friends. And, in return, these friends have agreed to help me in my quest, our quest"

- she threw her arms out to the audience - "to fix the Mirror of Amoret, so that the shadow may come back to guide and protect us,328to rid us of our enemies and to rule this land as it should be ruled."

Vigorous applause broke out. A few gruff voices said, "Hear, hear!" Mrs. Brown glanced at her neighbor and clapped politely. The woman with red ringlets appeared not to notice.

She was staring at the stage, where Titania Tilpin had been joined by a tall woman with black hair and a bright scarlet coat. She was holding the hand of a small, fragile-looking boy in a blue jacket. Mrs. Brown instantly recognized Charlie's great-aunt Venetia.

Venetia told the audience that she was there on behalf of the Bloor family, who had agreed to assist Titania in her mission to bring back the shadow. "And now I want to introduce my little treasure," she said, pushing Eric to the front of the stage. "This is Eric, my stepson. He has a truly remarkable talent. It has already been put to use by Mr.

Melmott, the stonemason, whose father was ruined by the lawyer Hector Bittermouse."

She paused while a gruff voice329from the front emitted a kind of growl. "Mr.

Bittermouse has been well and truly punished, I would say, wouldn't you?" She smiled at the growler, and continued, "If any of you have a family score to settle or a grievance unavenged, Eric and Mr. Melmott make a fine team, and they would be glad to help. In return we would welcome your assistance in fixing the Mirror of Amoret. I know there are wizards among you" - her black eyes darted over the faces in front of her -

"magicians, scaremongers, poisoners, shape-shifters, heart-stoppers."

Some members of the audience shifted in their seats, coughed, and blew their noses.

"Perhaps your power has been dormant for too long," Venetia suggested. "Perhaps you are afraid to use it in the present day. But look what Eric can do for you." She grabbed the small boy and pulled him back to stand in front of her. "Eric - the gargoyle."

All eyes turned to the hideous creature crouching at the front of the stage. Eric stared at it. His small330face contorted and a low hum came from him. The gargoyle lifted itself on thin stone legs, lurched down the steps, and stopped at the bottom.

This time the applause was slightly restrained. It would never do to let a small boy's, admittedly impressive, talent go to his head.

Venetia smiled forgivingly. "I'm sure many of you have equally formidable talents. But if you need Eric, you can contact me at number thirteen Darkly Wynd. Now..." She spoke the last word with an expressive sigh. "Titania will treat you to something rather special."

Venetia and Eric stepped aside and Titania Tilpin strode to the center of the stage. You could tell by the excited glitter in her eyes that she had saved the best part of her presentation until the end. She treated her audience to a broad smile, unhappily revealing several missing teeth. And then, from the folds of her cloak, she withdrew a mirror.

Holding it up with a dramatic flourish, she cried, "The Mirror of Amoret"331It was an astonishingly beautiful object. The jewel-encrusted frame sparkled with a thousand colors, and the glass itself, though cracked, had an unearthly radiance. Holding the handle in her right hand, Titania gently laid the mirror across her left palm and gazed into the glass. "We cannot have the count among us yet," she said in a harsh whisper, "but, friends" - she looked out at the audience - "I can reach him."

A profound silence settled on the audience.

Titania's gaze returned to the mirror. "Count Harken," she called in a floaty voice, "I beseech you - favor your humble descendants."

Like everyone else, Mrs. Brown stared at the mirror. What she saw there shook her to the very core of her being. A green mist seeped from the mirror. As it drifted upward, it swelled into a thick, evil-smelling cloud. Titania waved the mirror several times until the cloud parted. She smiled into the glass and held it out to face the audience. The head and shoulders of a man began to form in the glass; he wore a332green jacket and his thick brown hair was touched with gold. His face was so cruel and arrogant, Mrs. Brown couldn't hold back a tiny gasp. The shadow seemed to be looking directly at her; she was sure he could see her.

Mrs. Brown began to feel faint. She put her hand in her pocket and accidentally drew out the bag of chloroform. Having almost anesthetized herself, she suddenly realized her mistake, pushed back the chloroform, and thrust the smelling salts under her nose. Her neighbor jabbed Mrs. Brown's arm and the smelling salts fell to the floor.

"SPY!" shouted the woman with the red ringlets. "FRAUD! IMPOSTOR! ENEMY!"

Mrs. Brown leaped out of her seat and rushed to the door. Several burly figures stood up.

"Stop her!" screamed Titania.

The man in the elephant jacket grabbed Mrs. Brown's arm just as she reached for the door handle. She quickly stuck the scissors into his thigh with one hand and shoved the chloroform over his mouth333and nose with the other. The big fellow staggered back with a groan, and Mrs. Brown wrenched open the door.

By now, some of the larger members of the audience were close on her heels. Mrs.

Brown bounded out of the chapel and raced down the street. Even in built-up boots she was as swift as a rabbit. Her fast feet had rescued her from many a sticky situation, but too late, she realized that she was running away from Argos Avenue rather than toward it.

All was not lost, however, for Piminy Street curved sharply in the middle, and Mrs.

Brown saw that if she could draw ahead sufficiently, she might be around the bend before her pursuers could see her duck behind a wall or a hedge.

But there were no walls and no hedges. Apart from a few small porches, most of the doors opened directly onto the street. Mrs. Brown could hear shouting. The voices grew

louder. They were angry, deep, murderous voices and their owners were gaining on her.334All at once, before she had time to draw breath, Mrs. Brown was seized around the middle and carried into a darkened house. She screamed.

The door slammed and a quiet female voice said, "Hush, my dear. I'm rescuing you, not murdering you."335CHAPTER 17

TRAVELING WITH THE BOA

Benjamin woke up very early. He could hear Runner Bean barking. Something was wrong. It was still dark and Charlie was sound asleep. Benjamin found his clothes and dressed quickly. He was about to open the door when Charlie woke up.

"Ben, is that you?" Charlie said sleepily.

"I'm going home," Benjamin whispered. "Runner's barking. I want to see if Mom's OK."

Wide awake now, Charlie leaped out of bed and flipped on the light. "Don't go without me, Ben. I want to know what happened."

When Charlie had pulled on his clothes, the boys crept downstairs and left the house.

Filbert Street was deserted and silent. Runner Bean had stopped barking, but there was a light in the hall at number twelve.

In all the excitement of the previous night, Benjamin had forgotten his front door key. He rang336the bell and Runner Bean started barking again. A few moments later, Mr. Brown opened the door with the chain still on. He looked out through a three-inch gap and said,

"Who's there?" in a loud, challenging voice.

"It's only us, Dad." Benjamin shoved his face into the gap. "Let us in, please."

"Who's us?" demanded his father.

"Charlie and me. We want to know if Mom's OK."

"It is me, Mr. Brown." Charlie stood on tiptoe and looked over Benjamin's head.

"I see. All right." Mr. Brown took off the chain and opened the door. "Quick as you can.

Come on. They might be on to us."

"Who?" asked Charlie, as he followed Benjamin and Mr. Brown into the kitchen.

"Them," said Mr. Brown. "I can't say any more than that."

Mrs. Brown was sitting at the kitchen table. She was dressed in her usual skirt and sweater, but337she hadn't removed her makeup very well. Her forehead was covered in gray swirls and one cheek was striped pink and white. "It's only five o'clock," she said with a yawn. "What are you doing over here, boys?"

"Runner woke me up," said Benjamin. "And we wanted to know what happened to you, Mom."

The kettle boiled and Mr. Brown filled the teapot, saying, "It's a long story, boys. Your mom was discovered, Ben. She had to spend half the night with a blacksmith named Mrs.

Kettle."

"Mrs. Kettle?" Charlie exclaimed. "She's a friend."

"She is, indeed, Charlie," said Mrs. Brown. "I wouldn't be here now if she hadn't rescued me."

Mr. Brown handed everyone a mug of tea, and while she sipped and stirred, Mrs. Brown began to talk about her terrifying adventure. At last, Charlie learned where the painting had gone and how, dressed in Mrs. Kettle's coveralls and cloth cap, Mrs. Brown had eventually managed to evade the gruesome sympathizers and reach her husband waiting, in an agony of suspense, for her return.338"I don't know who those people were," said Mrs. Brown, draining her cup, "but I can tell you they were a mighty sinister bunch.-

Mrs. Kettle believes they have been lying low on Piminy Street for years. Biding their time, waiting for someone like Mrs. Tilpin to stir them into action."

"They are certainly stirred up now," said Mr. Brown.

"So the painting is in the Old Chapel," Charlie said thoughtfully.

"Charlie, you can't go there," Mrs. Brown declared. "It isn't safe."

"But I have to," argued Charlie. "I've got to rescue Billy from the painting."

Mrs. Brown threw up her hands and looked at her husband.

"We'll think of another way, Charlie," said Mr. Brown. "We'll talk it through and come up with a solution for you. We always find a solution when we put our minds to things, don't we, Trish?"

"Of course we do." Mrs. Brown beamed at Charlie.

338339"The best thing you can do, Charlie, is to go back home and get some more sleep.

You can come and see us later, when we've all had a bit more time to think." She closed her eyes and gave a long yawn.

Charlie took the hint. "OK." He stood up and Benjamin saw him to the front door.

"Don't do anything without me, will you, Charlie?" Benjamin begged.

"Not if I can help it," Charlie said.

Number nine was still in darkness. Charlie let himself in and tiptoed up to his room. He lay on his bed, fully dressed, knowing he wouldn't get to sleep again until the following night. His mind was made up. He had to go into the painting before it was moved again.

But how could he walk up Piminy Street without all those menacing sympathizers seeing him? And that was the least of his problems. The Old Chapel would be locked, no doubt, and even if Charlie managed to break in through a window, there was no certainty of his actually getting into the painting again.340"But I know that I can," Charlie whispered into the darkness. "Because you're going to help me, Claerwen."

A soft light moved through the air above him and landed on his arm. Was she merely answering to her name, or was she telling Charlie that she could help?

"I've got an idea," Charlie told the moth. He slid off the bed and, turning on his light, wrote a short note to Maisie. The note said:

Me and Benjamin havegoneto the bookstore.

See youlater.Love, Charlie.

Charlie didn't like lying to Maisie, but she would only worry if she thought he was alone.

He just hoped that Benjamin wouldn't come looking for him after breakfast.341Charlie left the note on the kitchen table where Maisie was bound to see it. She was always up before Grandma Bone.

Dawn was slowly approaching. There was a thin light on the horizon, but the streets were still dark and the air was bitterly cold. Charlie began to run. Before he reached the bookstore, he would have to pass the end of Piminy Street and he dreaded it. He was nearing the turn to Cathedral Close when he sensed that something was following him.

He stopped and turned, very slowly. And there they were - Aries, Leo, and Sagittarius -

their big paws pounding the cobblestones, their heads up and their tails erect, their fiery colors brightening the morning.

"Hi there, Flames!" Charlie called softly. "Thanks for the escort." He passed the turn to Piminy Street with confidence and pressed on to the bookstore.

The cathedral clock chimed seven just as Charlie emerged into the square. Ingledew's didn't open until nine o'clock. Charlie began to feel foolish. But342when he peered into the darkened store, he was sure he could hear voices. He rang the bell.

The Flames padded across the cobblestone square and looked back at Charlie from a distance. Miss Ingledew, wearing a red bathrobe, came into the store and stood behind the counter. She stared at Charlie through the window, not recognizing him.

"It's me, Charlie," called Charlie.

Miss Ingledew crossed to the door and unlocked it. "Whatever are you doing here at this time of the morning?" she asked, not unkindly.

The Flames, satisfied that Charlie was safe, went about their business.

Charlie bounded down the steps into the store. "It'll take me a while to explain," he said.

"You'd better come and have some breakfast." Miss Ingledew led him through her living room and into the small kitchen at the back of the house. Charlie was surprised to see Olivia and Emma eating343boiled eggs. Or rather, Olivia was eating. Emma hadn't touched her egg.

"Wow! You're having breakfast early for a Saturday," Charlie remarked.

"And you're having a walk early for a Saturday," said Olivia.

Emma lifted a wan face and said, "I can't sleep and that makes it difficult for anyone else to sleep. Do you want an egg, Charlie?"

Charlie was so shaken by Emma's mournful expression he didn't know what to say. "No...

er, yes... urn, just toast," he mumbled.

"Don't look so shocked, Charlie," Olivia barked. "How would you feel if someone you really cared for was... well, that you were never going to see them again?"

"I'd feel bad," he said, taking the chair between them. "I do feel bad," he added. "That's why I'm here."

"It's about Billy, isn't it?" Emma might have been344grief-stricken, but she was still aware of other people's troubles.

"It's just," Charlie began awkwardly, "that Billy still has a chance."

"And Tancred hasn't," said Emma.

"I don't mean that." Charlie leaned sideways as Miss Ingledew put a stack of toast on the table. He suddenly realized that he couldn't speak about the sympathizers' meeting. If Miss Ingledew heard about Mrs. Brown's hair-raising escape from Piminy Street, she was bound to stop Charlie from attempting to get into the Old Chapel.

"What do you mean?" asked Olivia, frowning at Charlie.

"Don't look at me like that," begged Charlie. "You probably think it was all my fault, Tancred's... drowning. But I didn't know he was going to meet Dagbert in the sculpture room. I was locked up. I couldn't do anything about it."

"We don't blame you, Charlie," Emma said gently. "Have you tried to reach Billy again?"345Charlie hesitated. He couldn't mention the Old Chapel with Miss Ingledew hovering behind him. "Not since I found Claerwen," he said.

"You found her? Why didn't you say?" Olivia scolded.

"I forgot." Charlie put his hand in his pocket and felt the moth's delicate feet touch his forefinger. "Here she is." He lifted her out and set her on the marmalade jar, where her silvery wings caught the light from the overhead lamp.

Both girls smiled at last. "Awww!" they breathed.

"She really is beautiful," said Miss Ingledew, sitting opposite Charlie. She swept back her long chestnut hair and asked, "Is your uncle back, Charlie?"

"No. We don't know where he is." Charlie shrugged. "Maisie's tried to call his cell, but there's never an answer. We think he's hundreds of miles away, where there isn't a signal.

Actually, I wish he would come back."

"So do I." Miss Ingledew stared at the moth in a dreamy way for a moment, and then she stood up346and said brusquely, "I must get dressed. I've work to do."

As soon as her aunt had left the room, Emma whispered, "I think she misses your uncle more than she's letting on."

"Definitely," Olivia agreed. "Why don't they get married?"

Charlie didn't know the answer to this. "I think I'd better be going now," he said. "I'll leave by the back door if that's OK."

"Why do you want to go that way?" asked Emma.

"Why did you come here in the first place?" said Olivia. "What for? Just to show us the moth?"

"I'm going to the Old Chapel on Piminy Street," said Charlie in a low voice. "I want to go the back way so that no one sees me. The painting's there."

Olivia raised her eyebrows. "I suppose that'll have to do for now."

The girls followed him to the back door at the far end of the kitchen.347"You can lock it again, after I've gone," said Charlie, stepping into the small yard behind the store.

"Won't you be coming back this way?" asked Emma.

"Urn. Don't know. I'll knock if I do." Charlie made his way past empty book boxes to the gate in the wall. The gate was rusty from lack of use and made a loud screech when Charlie opened and closed it.

He was now in the narrow alley that ran between the backyards of Piminy Street and Cathedral Close. The girls could hear him picking his way over the slippery, uneven cobblestones, long after the dark morning had swallowed him up.

Emma whispered, "I don't like it, Liv. It isn't light yet and the Piminy Street people are

..."

"Dangerous," finished Olivia. "I think we ought to contact the others."

"Who? Fidelio will be at a concert somewhere, Gabriel's running around the city with his petition,348Tancred's ..." - Emma gave a little sigh - "not an option, and Lysander... ah, Lysander!"

"Definitely," said Olivia.

"Yes, of course, Lysander." Emma followed Olivia back into the kitchen, feeling a little less anxious.

Charlie was passing the yard behind the Kettle Shop when a blue flame suddenly lit the window of the workshop. Mrs. Kettle obviously started work early. It was comforting to know that she was close by. Charlie wondered why he hadn't thought of Mrs. Kettle before. He went up to the workshop window and looked in.

The blacksmith, in her coveralls and visor, appeared to be welding a handle onto a large iron kettle. When she saw Charlie, she give a little start, then put down her welding iron and came to the back door.

"What the dickens are you doing here, Charlie Bone?" she asked, pulling up her visor.

Charlie looked furtively over his shoulder and whispered, "I was on my way to the Old Chapel."349"I can guess why," said Mrs. Kettle. "Mrs. Brown spilled the beans. Come in for a minute, Charlie."

Charlie stepped into the warm workshop. It was here that Mrs. Kettle had forged the invincible sword the Red Knight now carried at his side. There were other swords hanging on her walls, Charlie noted with satisfaction, and large tools that could, no doubt, do serious damage.

Mrs. Kettle gathered some of her smaller implements together and put them in a canvas tool bag. "You'd given no thought to the method of entering that chapel, now had you, Charlie?"

"I had, but I didn't come to a definite conclusion," Charlie admitted.

"No, you were going to wait till you got there and then be caught, most probably while you were just standing around thinking. Well, you'll need these for a start." She held up a formidable-looking pair of pliers.

Charlie was impressed. Not only had Mrs. Kettle made no attempt to dissuade him from entering the chapel,350she was actually going to help him. He couldn't stop himself from smiling.

"This is a serious business, Charlie," Mrs. Kettle warned him. "We'll have to be very, very careful."

"Yes, Mrs. Kettle."

"There's something else. Wait here." She went through the heavy door into the Kettle Shop and returned a moment later, carrying a large lidded basket. "Solomon," she said.

"You'll need him."

"The boa?" Charlie stepped back a pace. "Why?"

"Why, d'you think? Invisibility would be a great advantage in a place like Badlock, would it not?"

"Of course," Charlie agreed. "Yes, it would. But I can't talk to Solomon. Only Billy can do that."

"Use your moth. They understand each other. Both are ancient, both have known the Red King."

Mrs. Kettle looked so grave and resolute, Charlie found himself taking the basket without another word. They left the safety of the workshop and made their way cautiously along the alley. The houses on either side loomed against a sky that was already lighter.351It cast a gray wash over the cobblestones beyond reach of the single streetlight. Here and there a light could be seen in one of the windows; the Cathedral Close citizens were waking up, but if the inhabitants of Piminy Street were awake, they showed no sign of it.

"Here we are, my dear," whispered Mrs. Kettle.

They had reached an ivy-covered wall where a wooden door stood half open to the alley.

"Well, I'll be... They haven't even bothered to close it," the blacksmith remarked in a low voice. "I won't need the pliers after all. Come on, Charlie."

There were only a few feet between the wall and the back of the chapel. Charlie couldn't see a door. High above him an arched window had been boarded with several sturdy planks. He wondered how they would reach it.

"Around the side." Mrs. Kettle pulled Charlie's sleeve and he followed her around the side of the building.

Treading softly down the graveled path,352they came to a freshly painted green door. A large padlock hung beneath the door handle.

"This is going to be easier than I thought," said Mrs. Kettle. Kneeling beside the door, she took from her tool bag a metal ring holding several slim iron rods. Inserting one of the rods into the padlock, she twisted it once, twice, three times. A sparkling blue mist flew out, and with a gentle click, the padlock sprang open.

"Now for the next one." Mrs. Kettle tapped the keyhole beside the door handle. This called for a slightly larger rod. The blacksmith turned it twice in the lock. This time the dust was pink and the opening click more of a groan. Mrs. Kettle stood up and turned the handle. The door swung inward and Charlie found himself standing on the threshold of an ivy-clad stage.

"There!" Mrs. Kettle pointed to a large canvas standing against the far wall of the stage.

Charlie found he couldn't move.353"Go on, Charlie," urged his friend. "You haven't much time. It's getting light."

"I can't," he muttered hoarsely. "There's something in there. Something stopping me."

"Wickedness," said Mrs. Kettle in a matter-of-fact voice. "People like that are bound to leave their thoughts around so folks like us can't breathe the air that they have used. But you can do it, Charlie. You've got Mathonwy's wand. She'll see you through."

The moth was already out of Charlie's pocket and fluttering around his head, as though she knew that the time for help had come.

Charlie walked slowly across the stage. He put down the basket and turned the painting around to face him. Once again he experienced the dizzying effect of looking upon such a dreadful world.

"The boa, Charlie!" Mrs. Kettle called softly. Her large figure, almost filling the doorway, gave Charlie an immediate surge of courage and he opened the354basket. The blue boa slid out and waved its feathery head in the air.

"Claerwen, tell the boa I want to be invisible," said Charlie. "Anweledig," he added, remembering to use the Welsh. "And you'd better tell him to become invisible himself.

Boa anweledig."

The moth settled among the boa's feathers. It was an odd sight. Was she talking to him in her own magical language? It seemed to have worked, for the snake regarded Charlie in a questioning way and then ducked its head and started to coil itself around his feet. Bit by bit, Charlie's feet, in their gray sneakers, began to disappear.

"Good-bye, Mrs. Kettle!" Charlie called.

"Good luck, Charlie," she replied, in a voice that was already sounding distant.

It was an odd sensation, seeing himself disappear, and yet not unpleasant. The snake's embrace was cool and firm, and Charlie thought of it as a kind of friendly hug. When he felt himself to be completely355invisible, he gazed at the painting, waiting for the wind that had previously come howling out of it.

Nothing happened. Not a whisper. Not a breath. Charlie was not wanted in Badlock. Was the shadow even aware of him, standing there, at the very edge of his own time?

"Claerwen, let us enter," Charlie whispered. Then, using the Welsh, "Dwi isie mynd mewn."

The white moth flew across the painting. She flew over the towers and mountains, over rock and scrub and stony plain. She flew across the lowering sky and her wings moved so fast Charlie lost sight of her shape; all he could see was a blur of glittering silver, and he

had to rub his eyes against the brightness. He could feel the boa, heavy on his shoulders, and something sliding beneath his feet.

When he opened his eyes, he was traveling very fast through a forest of naked trees, their branches burdened with frozen snow. And then came the wind.356CHAPTER 18

A TIGER WITHOUT A HEART

It was only at night that Billy heard the giant. He had questioned Dorgo, but the servant would only shake his head regretfully and say, "Giant prisoner long time. He here now for punishment. But he make no noise." The little man placed his hands over his woolen hat, where Billy guessed his ears might be, and added, "I not hear."

Billy asked Matilda about the giant. She looked puzzled. "I've heard of a giant," she said,

"but he lives in a tower across the plain. He is not a true giant; he is just a very tall man."

"Dorgo knows that he was brought to the palace," said Billy. "Can't you hear him, Matilda? His voice is so low and sad?"

"No." Matilda stared at Billy for a moment. "Perhaps you can hear him because he is from your world, or perhaps" - she frowned thoughtfully - "perhaps it is because of your power, Billy. If you357can hear and understand the voices of tiny creatures, you can hear words that cannot reach people like me."

"Do you think the enchanter can hear him?" Billy asked.

"Without a doubt," she said.

They were in Billy's room, playing with some of the toys the enchanter had devised for them: miniature knights with miniature horses that moved at the press of a button, set into a small wooden box. The horses had tiny silver shoes nailed to their ivory hooves, and the sound of their galloping on the wooden floor always made Matilda laugh.

The two children now went everywhere together. Billy had never liked anyone as much as Matilda, except maybe Charlie. But Charlie hadn't come to rescue him. Matilda was kind and generous. When she listened to Billy's stories of life at Bloor's Academy, she always wore an anxious frown, and at the end of the stories she would say, "You have no home in the future, Billy. This is your home for always now."358And Billy would agree.

It was only when he heard the giant's melancholy voice, drifting up through the darkened building, that Billy would have a moment of doubt. He didn't belong here, in this palace of enchanted food and magical toys, out of his time.

On the fourth night, the giant's voice was so insistent, Billy got out of bed and tiptoed to the door. He looked into the hall. Dorgo appeared to be fast asleep. He was snoring loudly. Leaving the door ajar, Billy crept past the slumped figure and ran to the stairway.

Nothing stirred; the giant's voice was the only sound. Billy padded softly down the smooth twisting stairs. When he reached the bottom, he listened intently, trying to guess where the voice was coming from. And now the giant's words reached him clearly.

"Amoret! Amoret!" He was calling to his wife.

Something caused Billy to turn. The fires were out in the hallway of furs. But in the cool light of the false stars pinned to the ceiling, he could make out the 358359dreadful heads with their glistening eyes. There was a sudden bright flash, and Billy leaped with terror.

The enchanter stood at the far end of the hallway. He was dressed in such glittering magnificence Billy could hardly bear to look at him. He wore a golden cloak embroidered with silver, and his long green robe was encrusted with diamonds. A

brilliant sunburst sat atop his gold-flecked hair and the head of his ebony wand was a star of mirrored glass.

Billy tried to look away from the shining figure, but he couldn't avoid the gaze of the ivy-green eyes. They willed Billy forward, over the carpet of furs, closer and closer to the enchanter.

Without a word, the enchanter suddenly turned into an open doorway. Billy followed, but the bright figure had vanished, and Billy found that he was alone in a forest. "In a palace?" he asked himself. "A forest in a palace?" He followed a path through trees with unusual rubbery leaves, and then he was in a moonlit glade. If the moon beaming down at him360was false, then it was artfully made, for Billy could see the rifts and valleys of the same moon that he saw from windows in the real world.

A bear walked into the glade; a black bear, on all fours. "A bear?" Billy whispered. "But there are no animals in Badlock." And then before he knew it, a tiger brushed past him, so close he could feel its warm breath. The glade was suddenly full of sound, and looking up into the trees, Billy could see monkeys playing in the branches, bright birds flying through the leaves, and a gleaming snake coiled around the trunk.

A herd of deer wandered into the glade. They began to crop the grass quite close to where the bear sat idly licking his paws. The tiger crouched beside Billy. Very slowly, he put out his hand and touched the striped head. The tiger began to purr. It was a warm, comforting sound and reminded Billy of the three Flames. He spoke to the tiger, using a language he hoped the animal would understand. The tiger361didn't reply. It continued to purr, but its purr made no sense.

Billy tried to talk to the bear, but the animal didn't respond. He spoke to the deer, the monkeys, the snake, and even the birds. They didn't understand him. Had he lost his endowment? Had the enchanter stolen it away?

"They have no hearts," said a voice. "They'll never speak to you." Rembrandt was peeking out of Billy's pocket. "I'll admit he's done a fine job," said the rat, "but it's quite obvious that they're just enchantments."

"Really?" Billy wondered if the enchanter could see him. "But they're warm and the tiger purrs, and the birds sing so beautifully."

"Don't be disappointed," said Rembrandt, "at least they won't eat you."

Billy walked farther into the glade. A gorilla lumbered out of the bushes, scratched itself, and plunged back into the undergrowth. Billy followed it362and saw an elephant moving through the distant trees.

"I've always wanted to see an elephant," breathed Billy.

"It isn't real. Let's go to bed," said Rembrandt.

Billy yawned. He felt very tired. But when he turned to leave the forest, he couldn't see the path that had brought him to the enchanted glade. As he stared at the undergrowth, a line of bushes began to sway, as though a large creature were moving through them.

Suddenly, Dorgo's head popped up through the sea of leaves.

"Master lost," said the little servant. "Bed this way."

Leaping toward Dorgo, Billy found that the path was still there, under the thick springy leaves. He was now so tired all he could think of was his cozy bed.

When they climbed the marble stairway, the giant's voice was lost in the patter of their feet, and363by the time Billy fell asleep, he had forgotten all about it.

The next morning Billy could think of nothing but the forest of enchanted animals. He wanted Matilda to see them and hoped that another spell wouldn't cause them to disappear. He didn't have to worry.

Matilda was delighted. She danced around among the animals, stroking their heads and listening to their chattering, singing, and purring. "How clever he is," she cried. "Oh, Billy, the enchanter never did anything like this for me or Edgar. My brother is already jealous of you. Wait till he sees this forest."

"Perhaps it wasn't meant for me," said Billy. "Perhaps it was meant for all of us."

"No, no. The count wanted to please you especially. He wants to keep you here."

Two days ago this would have worried Billy. Now he felt almost pleased. He wished that Lilith and Edgar wouldn't look at him with such resentment, though.364"Why is your brother jealous of me?" he asked.

Matilda blushed. "I said that I liked your white hair and berry-colored eyes, and the count told me I had excellent taste. Edgar was listening and he walked away, looking sulky."

It was a new sensation for Billy, being admired for his albino coloring. He grinned with pleasure.

Edgar refused to visit the enchanted glade. At dinner he complained that animals were dirty and dangerous.

"Not these animals, Edgar," said the count. "These are special. How do you like them, Billy?"

Billy answered that he liked them very much. Lilith threw him a pitying look and Edgar scowled.

Matilda had advised Billy what sort of food to ask for, and he now looked forward to every meal. At the end of one of the lavish dinners, Billy made a puzzling discovery. The candles on the table were burning low, and as everyone rose to leave the room, their long shadows moved across the walls.365The count was washing his hands in a bowl held by the tall servant. The servant's lofty shadow could clearly be seen on the tapestry behind the count, but where the count's shadow should have been, there was nothing. No shadow shook its fingers and wiped its hands, even though the bowl of water and the shadow droplets were visible on the lush colors of the tapestry.

"It is part of his enchantment," Billy told himself.

Every day Billy and Matilda would play in the forest, and Billy would listen to the false songs of the multicolored birds; he would enjoy stroking the tiger that purred but had no heart, and he would watch the monkeys playing in trees that had no names. At night he slept soundly and never heard the giant's voice. But Rembrandt, sitting alert at the foot of Billy's bed, would listen to the giant calling, "Amoret, oh, Amoret."

The black rat knew that Billy was falling under a spell: a spell that was all the stronger for being so delicately done. He tried to remind Billy of the other366world where they belonged. But Billy wouldn't listen. "This is our home now," he told the rat.

One day Matilda took Billy exploring. While everyone thought they were with the animals, she led him along an unfamiliar hall, down a flight of steps, and on through rooms full of musical instruments, marvelous costumes, and sumptuous oriental furnishings. Now and again, Matilda would look at the walls and the ceiling and whisper,

"I used to think that the count could see everything, but there are days when he is occupied with magic and not so vigilant. Today is one of those days."

They came at last to a room full of paintings. There were rolls of cloth lying at one end of a long table; at the other end stood several boxes of colored powder. Brushes of every size and shape were scattered in groups about the floor, and paintings stood against the walls. Most showed landscapes or astounding cities with golden domes and pointed turrets, and then Billy saw a city he recognized and his heart gave a lurch.367"There's where I come from," he said.

Matilda clapped her hands. "I thought so." She looked around the room and lowered her voice. "My grandfather talks to it. One day I came down here and I heard voices. The count was standing close to that painting and listening. There was a woman's voice in the room, but I could see no one, so I knew her voice must be coming from your city. I believe she is the count's descendant." Matilda grinned. "Maybe she is my descendant, also. If not mine, then Edgar's."

Billy didn't find this funny. "Her name's Mrs. Tilpin, and she's a witch," he said.

"Oh!" Matilda's smile vanished. She sat on a bench and drew Billy down beside her. "I will tell you about the count," she said. "I know he is trying to get into your city; he makes no secret of it. There is a mirror that he can use for travel. He hid it in the grounds of the Red King's castle, and the woman now has it, but it is broken and she cannot help him to journey into the future."368"He's already halfway there," said Billy. "He's a shadow in the Red King's portrait and my friend Charlie says that's how he got into our world before, through his shadow."

"Ah, the shadow!" Matilda lowered her voice until it was almost a whisper. "He is monstrously clever, my grandfather. He cut himself away from his shadow and now it can travel while he stays at home, growing old. His shadow will live forever, he says."

Billy stared at her. "The count has no shadow. Of course, I noticed it. I thought it was just part of his enchantment."

"It is," said Matilda.

They left the room of paintings and began to make their way back to the dining hall. As they passed the marble stairway, Billy stopped and looked up. He could hear footsteps coming down the stairs. But no one was there. The footsteps came closer.

"What is it?" asked Matilda.

"I don't..."369Before Billy could finish his sentence a feathered blue snake's head appeared in midair. It swayed toward Billy, bringing its long scaly body behind it.

Matilda screamed and leaped away.

"Sorry," said a voice.

"Charlie?" Billy gaped at the snake that was lying several feet above the stairs.

"Yes, it's me," said Charlie. "I got Solomon to make me invisible. He was invisible too, but I suppose he was so pleased to see you, he forgot himself. I'll put him down."

The boa rocked gently to the floor where it curled itself into a neat bundle. "Hello, Billy,"

it hissed.

"Hi!" Billy replied in a puzzled tone. "Good to see you, Solomon." He tried to focus on the space above the boa, where he imagined Charlie's face to be. "I thought you'd come sooner. What kept you so long, Charlie?"

"You've no idea," sighed Charlie. "I tried, tried, and tried. And then they took the painting away. It's a long story, but here I am, so are you ready?"370Billy gazed into space. "I..."

Rembrandt poked his head out of Billy's golden pouch and politely asked after the boa's health.

"I'm doing well," hissed the snake. "How about you?"

"Could be better," squeaked the rat.

Billy put his hands over his ears. "I can't think with all that chattering going on."

"Billy's not going back with you," said Matilda, coming to Billy's side.

"Of course he is," said Charlie, rather taken aback by the appearance of a pretty girl all in yellow. "Who are you, anyway?"

"She's my friend, Charlie, and she's right. I'm sorry, but I'm staying here." Billy began to walk down the hallway of heads and furs with Matilda several paces behind him.

"You have to come," Charlie called.

Matilda looked over her shoulder. "Shhh!" She put a finger to her lips. "Come with us.

It's not safe here."

Charlie became aware of the animal heads371hanging in the hallway. He was reluctant to walk beneath them, but felt he had little choice. Lifting the boa onto his shoulders, he followed the two retreating figures. He caught up with them seconds later in a forest of extraordinary trees.

"Where are we?" Charlie whispered.

"We're in a forest in the enchanter's palace," Billy told him. "He made the trees and animals especially for me."

"Lucky you." Charlie let the boa slither to his feet. "It's odd, when I came here before, I arrived outside a giant's tower."

"Perhaps you naturally gravitate toward your ancestor," Matilda said in a solemn voice.

"What?" Charlie regarded the girl who, all at once, looked infinitely wise. He turned to Billy. "You can't stay here, Billy. You don't belong."

"I don't belong in your city," said Billy. "I haven't got a home there. It's nice here. The food is good and everything is beautiful and" - he looked at Matilda - "I've got a friend."372"But I've come all this way," said Charlie, shocked by Billy's words. "You know you can stay with me any time you want."

Matilda took Billy's hand. "So you'd best go home, Charlie Bone, and take your snake because..." She stared at a tree. "Oh dear! Here he comes."

The next moment, Edgar came walking out from behind a tree. "I heard a scream," he said.

Matilda let go of Billy's hand and pointed at the blue boa. "The enchanter has made such an excellent snake, we thought it was real."

The boa waved its head and hissed.

Edgar stepped back. "Stupid girl," he said. "Snakes don't have feathers. You are late for dinner again. Come immediately."

Charlie watched them go. They didn't even turn in his direction. The boa made no attempt to follow Billy. He seemed to know it was his place to stay with Charlie. Or maybe it was Claerwen's influence. The big snake had curled himself into an invisible coil.373Claerwen had emerged from Charlie's pocket and was now fluttering among the high branches, as though investigating the artificial forest. Charlie sat on the ground and put his head in his hands. He had been totally unprepared for Billy's rejection. Billy had been spellbound, he decided. But how he was to break the spell, Charlie had no idea.

"Help me, Claerwen," said Charlie. "Helpu fi."

She came and settled on his arm, but although she gave him comfort, she couldn't provide an answer.

In the distance, Charlie could see animals moving through the trees. "They're not real, are they?" he murmured to Claerwen. None of the animals came near him.

"I'll wait until they've gone to bed," Charlie told himself. "I'll find where Billy's sleeping, and maybe if he's alone, I can make him come with me."

An unreal moon was already beaming down into the forest. Charlie wondered if he would be able to tell when night fell in this palace of false light. I374wouldn't want to live here, he thought as he stretched himself on the ground. He rested his head on the boa's smooth coils, and before he knew it, he had fallen asleep.

Charlie woke up with a start. A girl in a long white robe was standing in the trees. She held a burning candle in a metal saucer.

"Are you there, Charlie Bone?" the girl asked in a whisper.

Charlie sat up. "I'm here. Where's Billy?"

"He didn't want to leave his room. I've come with a message." Matilda ventured a little closer to Charlie. "Billy won't come back with you, Charlie. I'm sorry that you've come all this way, through the years, and not without danger to yourself, I'm sure. But there is someone you might want to see before you return."

Charlie rubbed his eyes and got to his feet. "You mean my ancestor, the giant. Perhaps you can tell me how I can reach his tower, because I know it's miles away."

"Not miles away, Charlie. He is here."375"Here?" Charlie remembered Matilda's words.

"Is that what your meant about gravitating toward my ancestor?"

"Of course." She gave him a wise smile.

"Where is he?" asked Charlie.

"In the dungeon. I will show you the entrance, but I dare not come with you." She looked at her candle. "I could give you a light, but it would be seen."

"I don't need a light," said Charlie.

"Come with me, then."

Charlie followed Matilda's flickering candle along the silent halls. It must be the dead of night, he thought, for the rush lights had died and the false stars had lost their shine. He supposed that even enchanters needed their sleep.

The halls became darker. The walls were now rock and stone, the ground a path of rubble. A deep, melancholy voice echoed down the passages, and as they hastened ever deeper, Charlie could make out the word "Amoret!"

375376"My ancestor," Charlie whispered.

"I can hear it now," said Matilda. "At first only Billy could hear the giant's voice. We are getting nearer."

They came to a half circle of rusty iron railings, and lifting her candle, Matilda said,

"Down there!"

Charlie saw a stairway of rocky steps, twisting down into the darkness.

"I wish you well, Charlie Bone," Matilda whispered.

"Thank you." Charlie hoped they would meet again. She was just about the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Who was she? Did she have a place in the long tangle of the Red King's descendants?

"Make haste!" Matilda looked at the ceiling where a star was beginning to flicker into life. "The enchanter is waking up."

"Good-bye, Matilda!" Charlie touched her hand and she stared at it in wonder.

"Good-bye, Charlie Bone!"

Charlie put his foot onto the first step and began to descend. It was the steepest, blackest set of steps377he had ever come across and he was glad of Claerwen's bright light. He worried that his loud stumbling would wake the guard who must surely be watching the giant's cell.

At the bottom of the steps, a sharp turn brought Charlie into a narrow space where a figure sat slumped beside a table. A pile of candles lay on the table and one flickered in a brass candlestick. But it was Claerwen's light that showed Charlie the heavily barred cell beyond the guard and the giant's gaunt face peering out of it.

"Who is there?" whispered Otus.

Charlie looked at the sleeping figure. A bunch of keys lay on his lap. Which one opened the cell? Charlie would have to choose quickly. He tiptoed closer to the sleeping guard.

And then he saw the huge, lumpy thumb. Snatching up the keys, Charlie tried to push the first one into the lock on the cell door. It didn't fit.

The giant watched the floating keys in astonishment. "Who is it?" he asked again.

377378"Me, Charlie, your descendant," Charlie whispered. "I'm going to take you to your wife."

"Amoret?" The giant shook his head. "You lie. She is dead."

The rattle of iron in the lock must have woken the troll, for all at once he opened his eyes and stared at the keys. Leaping up, he shouted, "What is this, giant? Are you trying to use magic?"

The giant backed away, still shaking his head, and Oddthumb seized the keys. He stared at them suspiciously. Charlie made a grab for them, but Oddthumb lifted his great fist and brought it smashing into Charlie's stomach. He reeled back with a groan.

"There you are," said the troll. "You scoundrel. You won't get the better of Oddthumb with invisibility, I can tell you."

What made the boa act then, Charlie would never know. Maybe Claerwen had a word in his ear, for suddenly the big snake made himself visible. From Charlie's shoulder he lunged at Oddthumb, hissing like a steaming kettle. The troll, his eyes starting from379his head, flung up his hands and the keys went flying through the air.

A dreadful sound came gurgling out of Oddthumb and he ran up the steps, stumbling and moaning in terror.

Charlie quickly scooped up the keys. The second one fit the lock and the cell door swung open with a screech.

"We'd better hurry," Charlie told the giant, "or Oddthumb will be back with reinforcements."

"It is you, Charlie Bone," said the giant. "I know your voice. But what are we going to do? How can I ever escape this place?"

"First of all, the boa will make you invisible," said Charlie. "And then... then we'll find your wife before she dies and you will be together."

The blue boa needed no instruction this time. He seemed to know instinctively what he should do. Otus watched himself disappear in horror and fascination. It was only when Charlie began to direct his moth that he realized they would have to return the380way they had come - through the painting of Badlock.

The boa looped himself around the giant's shoulders and Charlie held tight to his ancestor's arm. Claerwen spread her silver wings and, alighting on Charlie's head, proceeded to take them through time.381CHAPTER 19

LYSANDER TO THE RESCUE

As usual, Charlie had given no thought to the flight ahead. Traveling with an invisible giant was not as easy as he would have wished. Otus might have been brave but a journey to meet a wife he believed to be dead was a little daunting. If he had known he would be flying through nine hundred years, instead of twenty, he probably wouldn't have agreed to come at all. As it was, he kept calling out to Charlie for reassurance. The tumbling and whirling aspect of their journey was very uncomfortable for a giant.

"Are we there?" Otus would cry. "My legs are floating over my head. Woe, Charlie.

Bring us to earth."

"Hush, Otus," Charlie would reply, as though he were speaking to a child.

"When will we arrive? Will we be too late to see382Amoret?" The giant's voice quavered as a violent gust of time spun into a fast descent.

"I think we're here," said Charlie as his feet scraped the ground.

When the giant touched down a second later, there was an earth-shuddering crash.

"Woe!" yelled Otus as his invisible feet plunged through the floorboards.

A long shriek followed the crash and a voice cried, "He's here! He's here!"

"Where? Where?" called other voices.

Charlie found himself on the stage of the Old Chapel, looking out at a crowd of angry, aggressive-looking people. Mrs. Tilpin thrust her face very close to his. "You're there, aren't you?" She tried to poke him in the chest, but Charlie stepped sideways, just in time.

"Where am I?" roared the giant. "My feet are gone."

"They're stuck in the floorboards," Charlie whispered. "Pull them out, Otus."383There was a sound of cracking, splintering wood as Otus heaved his big feet up through the floorboards. "OW!" he bellowed.

"There're two!" A woman at the front of the crowd pointed at Charlie. Her bright red ringlets looked very odd framing such an old, wrinkled face. "I can see them. One is a giant."

"A giant?" screamed Mrs. Tilpin, stepping back.

"Dolores has the second sight," said a burly fellow in a black woolen ski mask.

Standing just behind the wooly-masked man, Charlie caught sight of someone he recognized, but events were moving too fast for him to put a name to the man.

"Where's my wife?" the giant called plaintively. "Where's Amoret?"

"Amoret?" Mrs. Tilpin turned to the crowd. "Friends, this giant is the shadow's prisoner."

The crowd surged forward and began to climb onto the stage. Charlie grabbed the giant's hand and tugged him to the green curtains at the back.384"There! There!" shouted Dolores, her black-gloved finger following Charlie as he pulled the giant toward the door at the side of the stage.

The crowd closed in. Coarse, deep-throated oaths filled the air as a dozen tall figures surrounded Charlie and the giant.

"There be monsters in your world, Charlie boy," said the giant, "but they shall not have us." And he thrust out his big foot, pushing two of the men to the ground.

The others stepped back, staring in horror at the giant's shoulders, for the blue boa had made himself visible. He was thrusting his head out at the crowd, his open mouth revealing dreadful shining fangs.

"Dolores, do something!" screamed Mrs. Tilpin.

As Dolores reached into her pockets, Charlie heard drumbeats. They grew louder and louder until the sound filled the chapel. The crowd looked around, trying to see where the drumming was coming from. But nothing could distract Dolores. Raising385a small silver catapult, she shot a stone straight at the giant's forehead. He crashed to the floor with a groan.

"Oh, Otus, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I brought you here," cried Charlie, falling to his knees beside the giant. The distressed boa wrapped himself around Charlie as though to comfort him. Too late, Charlie realized that he was becoming visible. He waited for Mrs. Tilpin's sharp fingers to grab him by the neck. But nothing touched him.

Charlie looked up. The crowd was backing away, men and women falling over one another in their haste to leave the stage. Even Mrs. Tilpin was moving down the steps.

Her eyes were fixed on the wall behind Charlie, her face contorted with fear. Following her gaze, Charlie looked behind him and saw a line of ghostly forms, half hidden in a swirling mist. Their faces were undefined, but their brown arms were all too clear. Each one held a long, gleaming spear.386"Lysander!" said Charlie.

"You bet!" Lysander came striding through the stage door. He swept his arm in an arc above his head and pointed at the crowd.

Lysander's spirit ancestors, their weapons held aloft, advanced on Mrs. Tilpin and her sinister followers. Many of them held their hands over their ears, the drumbeats were now so loud. They jostled and moaned as they pushed their way to the door that opened onto Piminy Street. And then they were through, and above the drumming, their heavy feet could be heard pounding down the street.

The still-invisible giant groaned.

"Whatever was that?" Lysander stared at the floor.

"A giant," said Charlie. "And he's alive. Thanks, Sander. Thank you, thank you. You saved our lives."

"A giant," said Lysander. "I expected Billy."

"Billy," sighed Charlie. "He wouldn't come."

Lysander stared at Charlie in disbelief, and then, studying the floor where the groaning was coming from,387he said, "We'd better get that giant out of here. I'm sure they'll be able to see him, even if I can't." He beckoned his spirit ancestors.

The tall, wraithlike forms lowered their spears and rested them against glittering belts.

Charlie got to his feet as they came toward him. There were seven of them, their dark features appearing briefly and then receding into the mist that seemed to accompany them. They bent down and lifted the giant onto their shoulders, as easily as if he'd been an empty sack. At least Charlie assumed that's where the giant was, because his groaning voice was now coming from somewhere just above their heads.

Lysander led the way through the door and around the back of the chapel. Charlie came last with the blue boa hanging about his neck. He took a quick look into the chapel before he closed the door. The painting of Badlock was lying on its back, facing the ivy-clad ceiling. Charlie was tempted to destroy it, knowing what it could do. And then he remembered Billy.388Charlie slammed the door of the chapel and raced around into the

alley. He could hardly believe his eyes. Uncle Paton's camper van was parked in a space no camper van should occupy. Luckily, the back doors were right beside the opening in the chapel wall, and the ancestors had no trouble in depositing the giant on the floor.

When this was done, the tall figures slowly melted away. Lysander made a bow in their direction and closed the van doors.

"Uncle Paton, when did you get here?" Charlie clambered in beside his uncle, who shied away from the boa and started the engine.

"An hour ago," said Uncle Paton. "You don't need to tell me where you've been."

Lysander leaped in beside Charlie and said, "Let's go, Mr. Yewbeam."

They sped up to the top of the alley and turned onto a road that would eventually take them to Filbert Street.389"Is young Billy hurt?" asked Uncle Paton as he drove, rather too fast, along Park Road. "He's making a devil of a noise."

"It isn't Billy," said Charlie.

"No?" Uncle Paton glanced at Charlie. "Who then?"

Charlie hesitated and Lysander said, "Mr. Yewbeam, you have a very large man in the back of your van."

"WHAT?" Uncle Paton's foot slipped onto the brake and everyone lurched forward rather sickeningly.

A dreadful groan came from the back, and a melancholy voice called, "For pity's sake, what monstrous machine is eating me?"

"How large is this very large man?" asked Paton in a low voice. "Are we talking of giants?"

"He's not strictly a giant," said Charlie. "He's only about eight or nine feet tall."

Uncle Paton sighed. "May I ask why he is here?"390"He's from Badlock," Charlie told his uncle. "He's my ancestor, and yours. I HAD to rescue him, Uncle P."

"Of course you did," Uncle Paton said wearily. "And may I ask what you propose to do with such a very tall person, nine hundred years out of his own time?"

Charlie grimaced. He couldn't bring himself to tell his uncle that he planned to take Otus to the Castle of Mirrors. He knew it would sound ridiculous.

Lysander leaned forward and said quietly, "The giant is at present invisible, Mr.

Yewbeam."

"Oh, great." Paton glanced at the blue boa. "I suppose that makes everything all right, doesn't it?" He put his foot down hard on the accelerator and they whizzed up Filbert Street, coming to a screeching halt outside number nine.

Charlie wasn't quite sure what to do next. His uncle sat in the driving seat, scratching his head and looking stressed.391"I'll get the Browns." Charlie raced over to number twelve to explain the situation to the Browns.

Uncle Paton eventually roused himself and joined Lysander, who had opened the van doors. The giant had fallen silent.

Mr. and Mrs. Brown came running across the road followed by Benjamin, Charlie, and Runner Bean. They all crowded around the back of the camper van, Runner Bean barking with excitement.

"How interesting!" Mr. Brown peered into the van, accidentally resting his hand on one of the giant's feet. "Oops! There he is."

"Charlie, open the front door. Quickly," ordered Uncle Paton.

Charlie leaped up the steps and opened the door, calling, "Hi, Grandmas! We're just bringing in a carpet." When he looked around, Lysander, Uncle Paton, and the Browns were carrying the giant, wrapped in the van's carpet, toward the house.

With much huffing and puffing, the carpet was392lifted up the steps and into the hall, where it was lowered, rather fast, onto the floor. There was a bump and a voice from the floor cried, "Mercy! Let it end now, I beseech you."

Charlie quickly shut the front door and let the boa slide inside the carpet. Maisie appeared in the kitchen doorway and said, "There you are, Charlie. I see your uncle found you. I wondered what on earth had happened."

Charlie gave her a sheepish grin. "Sorry, Maisie. Got held up."

"That's a very shabby carpet," she said, and before anyone could stop her, she gave it a little kick.

The deep groan from the carpet sent her reeling back into the kitchen. "There's someone in there," she cried.

They all followed her into the kitchen. Charlie made her sit down and Uncle Paton put on the kettle. Runner Bean slid under the table and everyone gathered around Maisie. No one knew quite what to tell her, so Charlie sat beside his grandmother and393began at the beginning. When he had finished, Maisie took a very deep breath and said, "Well, you'd better do something about that poor man. Grandma Bone will be back from lunch in a minute."

It was decided that Charlie should talk to Otus. The giant would not be so alarmed if someone he knew explained things to him.

"It would be a great advantage if the fellow could be seen," said Mr. Brown.

"Not with my sister around," Paton told him.

They didn't realize that the blue boa had made his own decision until they opened the door. There stood the giant, every hair, every whisker completely visible. The boa had wrapped itself comfortably around his neck.

"Charlie," cried Otus. "What manner of place is this?"

Charlie was relieved to see Otus on his feet, but a little concerned about the huge bruise on the giant's forehead. "Shall we go upstairs?" he asked.394"I have things to tell you and we might not be safe here."

The giant gazed at the framed photos on the wall and at the hall light in its stained-glass shade hanging beside his head. "Yes, yes," he murmured. "It is very strange here, Charlie."

And then Runner Bean ran out of the kitchen wagging his tail and the giant beamed with pleasure. "We meet again, dog," he said, bending to pet Runner Bean. "Good dog. Best of all dogs."

Runner Bean licked the big hand and barked delightedly.

Mrs. Brown poked her head around the door and said, "We'll be going now, Charlie. I'm sure you've got a lot to take care of. It's been nice meeting you, Mr. Yewbeam."

The giant inclined his head.

"Nice to meet you," said Mr. Brown, tiptoeing, for some reason, toward the door. "Come on, Ben."395Benjamin stared up at the giant's smiling face. "Hi," he said.

"Hi!" the giant repeated.

"I'd better be going, too," said Lysander, holding his hand out to the giant. "It's been a pleasure to meet you, sir."

Otus solemnly took Lysander's hand. "You are a powerful boy," said the giant. "I know this. And I thank you."

When Lysander and the Browns had gone, Charlie led the giant upstairs. Uncle Paton suggested his room would be safer than Charlie's, as it was strictly out of bounds to Grandma Bone.

Otus ducked beneath the door frame and sank onto Uncle Paton's bed, which was covered in papers. Otus didn't seem to notice, nor did he pay any heed to the loud twangs the bed made, as though several springs had broken.

"You've made a mistake, haven't you, Charlie boy?" said the giant.396"Sorry." Charlie moved some of the papers and sat next to his ancestor.

"Shall I never see my wife?" asked the giant in a forlorn voice.

"I hope you will." Charlie smiled encouragingly. "The thing is, I had to come back here first because the painting of Badlock was here, and it's what I do: travel into paintings."

"There is no painting of my wife," said Otus.

"No - but - I think I have seen her."

"You... !" The giant's face came very close to Charlie. His large hand clutched Charlie's shoulder. "How is that possible?"

"The castle where she died still stands, but the walls turned to glass."

"I heard that snow fell," Otus murmured, almost to himself. "Snow sent by a magician, but it came too late."

"Too late to save them," Charlie agreed. "But it was a wonderful spell in its way, because now the397walls are like glass, but they are also mirrors." He pointed to the mirror on Uncle Paton's dresser, and the giant, seeing himself reflected there, smiled.

"When I went to the castle," Charlie continued, "there was a wall that showed me a time picture, not a painting but, well, it was like a memory, like the walls had kept the memory of the people who lived there. I saw a family: Amadis and his wife and children, and a beautiful woman with black hair ..."

"Yes, yes!" Otus exclaimed.

"And they called her Amoret."

"And you saw her... truly?"

"She talked to me." Charlie looked into the giant's incredulous face. "I went in."

"You went... in?" Otus lifted his head and stared at the ceiling. He looked at the shelves of books, the pictures, and the calendar. He looked at Uncle Paton's desk with its jars of pens and pencils, and he didn't seem surprised by any of it. "So you could take me?" he said.398"I think I could, with Claerwen's help. After all, she was a magician's wand. The magician that sent the snow, I think."

The giant stood up, and the bedsprings twanged into place again. "When do we travel?"

he asked.

"Urn ... I haven't told my uncle yet," said Charlie. "It'll be up to him."

Uncle Paton opened the door just then, and said, "We've got a visitor."

Mrs. Kettle, carrying a large basket, pushed past him into the room. She gave a little start when she saw the giant's face so very far above her, and the giant, obligingly, sat down again.

"I'm so very thrilled to meet you, Mr. Yewbeam." She held out her hand. The giant took it and leaned forward, bending his head as though he would have made a bow, if he'd been standing up.

"My name is Mrs. Kettle," the blacksmith went on, "and I've been caring for... ah, there he is." She spied the blue boa, curled up on a pile of Uncle Paton's clothes.399"Come on, Solomon darling, time to go home."

"A wondrous snake," Otus remarked as Mrs. Kettle approached the boa with her basket.

"I wouldn't like him to get into the wrong hands," said Mrs. Kettle, helping the snake to curl himself into the basket. "There." She closed the lid and smiled around at everyone.

"Well, this is a most incredible event, and I am very happy to be part of it. There is some good news that I don't suppose Lysander told you, Charlie."

Charlie shrugged.

"No, I thought not. I imagine it's been very busy here." She glanced at the giant.

"Anyway, Gabriel Silk has obtained so many signatures on his petition for reopening the Pets' Cafe, it is likely that the Onimouses will be successful."

Instead of giving her a happy smile, Charlie suddenly leaped up, clapping his hand to his head. "Oh, no!" he cried. "I've remembered."400"What have you remembered?" Paton came farther into the room and closed the door.

The giant stared anxiously at Charlie as he paced toward the window. "Norton Cross, the doorman at the Pets' Cafe," he said. "I saw him in the Chapel. He must be one of the shadow's followers. Perhaps he even caused the Onimouses' accident."

"We'll just make sure he doesn't go back there, my dear," said Mrs. Kettle calmly.

"You don't understand" - Charlie clutched his tangled hair - "I told Mr. Bittermouse to contact Norton, to help with repairing his door. And now I've put him in danger."

"He was in danger already, Charlie," said Mrs. Kettle. "But we'll make sure that he's safe.

Don't you worry about it. You've got enough on your plate." She smiled at the giant who was sitting very still with a faraway look in his eyes. "I mean no offense, Mr. Yewbeam, but I'm sure Charlie's been making plans for you."

"Er, yes," Charlie muttered.401"And what are they, my dear? Will you let me into your secrets?"

"Urn... ," began Charlie.

The giant said, "He is taking me to my wife."

Not by a single twitch did Mrs. Kettle show her surprise. "How wonderful," she said. "I'll be off now and let you get on with things. Good luck all." She slipped out, closing the door very quietly behind her.

Unfortunately, Uncle Paton was so flabbergasted, he staggered to a chair and sat down rather heavily. "Can I believe my ears, Charlie? Did you tell Mr. Yewbeam here that you were taking him to see his wife?"

"I'm sorry I didn't mention it before," said Charlie.

"But..." Paton looked at the giant and shook his head.

Charlie felt deflated and helpless. It was several seconds before he realized that the giant was speaking. Otus Yewbeam's deep voice stole so softly into402the room, Charlie and his uncle felt they were listening to a voice from another world.

"I know what awaits me, sir. I know the fire was fierce and that Amoret died most horribly. I have known this for many years. I have thought of it every day since I learned the nature of my wife's passing; every day that I spent in that prison, for Badlock is a prison, my friends. And I thank you, most fervently, Charlie, for bringing me out of it. I would not have wished to die there. I know what my end will be if I am with my wife, but one day, one hour, one minute spent with her would, at a stroke, wipe away the memory

of all those bitter years. So I beg you, Paton, uncle of Charlie, sir, please help Charlie take me to my wife."

Uncle Paton had been looking at the giant, as though struck by an amazing revelation. "It will be a pleasure," he said.

There was a crash from below as the front door was flung open, and a voice called,

"WHERE IS IT,403THEN? I've heard from my friends on Piminy Street that there is a giant in my house."

"Grandma Bone!" Charlie whispered.

"An ill-disposed voice," remarked the giant.

"Exceedingly ill-disposed," Paton agreed. "But don't let it worry you. Stay here with Charlie. I'll deal with this."

Uncle Paton left the room, calling, "Good afternoon, Grizelda. Are you grumbling again?"

"I most certainly am." She stared up at her brother, her features twisted with spite.

"Where is it?"

"IT? IT?" shouted Paton, descending the stairs. "There is no IT here, unless you mean your sorry self."

Grandma Bone stamped her foot. "Don't try and be clever, Paton. I won't have it in my house."

"YOUR house, Grizelda?" Paton poked her in the chest. "YOUR house? It's half mine, and I won't have you poking your nose into my business."404"Don't do that!" Grandma Bone found herself backing down the hallway as Paton poked and poked at her.

"Stop it," she shrieked.

They had reached the cellar, and in one swift movement, Paton opened the door and pushed her in. She slipped down the first two steps, steadied herself and screamed,

"HELP!"

Paton slammed the door. As the key was not readily available, he quickly pushed a heavy oak chest in front of the door.

"What's going on?" asked Maisie, looking at Paton in alarm.

"I've temporarily imprisoned my sister," Paton told her. "Don't worry, Maisie. She'll lose her voice in a minute. We've got a very long journey ahead of us, so I'd like you to make sure Grizelda stays put until we get back."

"Are you taking" - she hesitated and looked up the stairs - "the other Mr.

Yewbeam?"405"We are indeed. We are taking him somewhere safe."

"I'm so glad. I was very worried about him. But I thought that little Billy would be coming back? Is he still... there?"

"Still there, Maisie." Paton frowned. "And I'm not sure how we'll get him out."

"But you will get him out," said Maisie sternly.

The light was already leaving the sky. Soon it would be dark. Uncle Paton decided he would have to put out the streetlight if the giant wasn't to attract too much attention when he left the house.

The giant waited patiently on Uncle Paton's bed. He had fallen silent, and a mysterious half-smile touched the corners of his mouth. Was he thinking of the past? Charlie wondered. Or was he imagining the moment when he would see Amoret again? The house was very quiet. Grandma Bone had stopped screaming, just as Paton had predicted.406When the first star showed, Paton put on his black fedora and stepped down

into the street. With his hand on the lamppost, he murmured, "Let it happen then, but quietly, please."

There was a small popping noise; the lamp went out and Paton's fedora was covered in a silver dust. "Many thanks," he said, though he wasn't sure who or what he was thanking.

He removed his hat and shook the glass fragments into the street.

Watching from the window, Charlie saw his uncle open the back doors of the camper van and slide the carpet back into place.

"It's time to go," Charlie told the giant.

Otus stood up and stretched his arms, scraping his knuckles on the ceiling. He laughed and said, "This house would never suit me, Charlie Bone."

"No," said Charlie. "They don't make houses for giants anymore."

"They never did," said Otus.407The giant's heavy feet thumped on the stairs, as he followed Charlie downstairs. Maisie handed him a box of food and he made a low bow.

"Good luck, Mr. Yewbeam," she said. "I wish we could have spent a bit more time together."

"I agree, my lady," said Otus, tucking the box under his arm. "You are very gracious." He took her hand and planted a kiss on it.

"How chivalrous," said Maisie, blushing.

"Hurry up," called Uncle Paton.

Otus walked down the steps and then stood on the sidewalk, gazing at the passing cars, the streetlights, and the lit-up houses. An airplane passed overhead, its taillight twinkling among the stars.

"Oh," sighed the giant. "What a wondrous thing this new world is. I wish I had known it better."

Charlie took the box and put it in the back of the van. "It's time to go, Otus," he said quietly. "I'm afraid we'll have to travel in this machine again."

"I am not afraid." The giant took a large step into408the back of the van and Charlie closed the doors. Uncle Paton started the engine and Charlie climbed up beside him.

Maisie stood waving from the door as though she might never see them again. But Charlie's confidence didn't waver until they drove out of the city and into the night. And then a voice in his head began to ask, "What if I fail? What then?"409CHAPTER 20

AMORET

T he way to the Castle of Mirrors was long and difficult, but after his last journey there Uncle Paton had made a map of the route. The road followed the river for a while, and then at a crossroads five miles outside the city, they turned onto the coast road. Otus had never seen the castle though he had heard much about it.

"They said it was the finest castle in the world," the giant's voice rumbled softly from the back of the van. "Borlath, the eldest prince, envied Amadis in all things, and the shadow stoked the fires of his envy. Anything Borlath could not have, he destroyed."

After a long pause Charlie asked, "Where did you live, Otus?"

The giant chuckled. "I was born in a house of living yew trees. My father dug a pit in the center of an ancient grove. So wide were those yews it needed but a few beams driven between them to give us our410walls. Above we had a roof of hides, tied to the highest branches. We never touched the leaves or berries for they were poisonous, but they kept the wolves at bay."

"Yewbeam," Charlie murmured. "So that's how the name began."

"Aye," said the giant.

"Well, I never found that out," Paton declared, "in all my years of research. How very interesting. And did your wife live in this house of yew?"

"Mercy, no." Otus sounded quite indignant. "I built my Amoret a fine house from stone and pine with bleached walls and a floor of slate."

"Naturally." Paton gave a small apologetic cough.

After this they all fell silent and Charlie drifted off to sleep. When he woke up, they were driving through a valley. On either side, mountains rose, dark and sheer, into the moonlit clouds. A flash of white caught Charlie's eye and he looked into the side mirror. His heart missed a beat, for there, reflected in the mirror,411was a white horse. Behind the flowing white mane sat a knight in armor.

"They're here," said Charlie. "The queen and the Red Knight. They're following us."

"Are you sure?" Paton frowned at the mirror. "Ye gods, Charlie, you're right."

"The queen?" Otus heaved himself to the small window in the back door, and the van rattled and shuddered. "I see no queen; there is but a knight and his horse."

Charlie realized that, to Otus, a knight on horseback was quite an everyday sight. "It isn't an ordinary horse," said Charlie, and he explained how Ezekiel Bloor had unintentionally brought Queen Berenice back to life, in the body of her favorite mare. "He's not a very good magician," Charlie went on. "He meant to bring Borlath into the world again."