“Go on, then,” Theo said sadly to him. “And be sure to tell Isabella goodbye from me.”
Ian turned and followed the other two down the stairs, but thinking about Theo and her remarkable gifts, he asked, “If Theo’s restricted to her room, when will she be allowed to go to London?”
“Ah, yes,” said Madam Dimbleby over her shoulder. “The trip to see the earl’s aunt. I’m afraid that Miss Fields must serve out her punishment before she’s allowed any excursions. If she behaves herself, I’ll permit her to travel next Saturday.”
“But that’s a full week away!” moaned Carl, and Ian had to agree. He’d also really been looking forward to taking the trip to London.
“Be thankful it’s not closer to a fortnight,” said Madam Dimbleby sternly, and the boys fell silent as they trooped along behind her.
DEMOGORGON’S COMMAND
Toulouse, France, That Same Day
Magus the Black stood stoically in front of a stone hearth, staring into the flames of a blazing fire in an old, abandoned farmhouse in the South of France. No wood was evident in the fireplace, yet the fire raged on. Behind him a low growl came from the corner, where his favorite pet lay with her newborn pups. Her mate, a monstrous beast even larger than she and marked by a white stripe across his hackles, paced just inside the door. A third beast hovered close to Magus.
Still in his youth, the third hellhound was not yet fully grown. He was the only one to have survived from his mother’s previous litter of some four years earlier, and only because he’d managed to kill off his littermates. There was a long ragged scar running from just under the young beast’s right eye down to his muzzle. It was a souvenir from the brother he’d murdered only a few months before.
The youth eyed his mother’s new pups menacingly. She growled at him as if knowing he would like nothing better than to rip them to pieces, which of course he would.
Just then, a tearing echoed about the room. From the center of the flames, a rush of foul air poured out from the grate, filling the space with a horrible odor as hot gasses flooded the small house. “Magus?” said a terrible voice, the sound gritty and deep, like huge boulders grating and grinding over one another.
“Yes, Sire,” Magus replied. “I am here.”
“What news have you to share?”
“I have isolated the location of the girl,” said Magus.
“Is she in your possession?” asked the voice.
Magus shifted ever so slightly on his feet. “My servants are working to capture her now, Sire.”
The voice from the grate rumbled its irritation. “This is unacceptable, Magus. You leave the work I assign you to mere mortals?”
“The child is well protected,” Magus said, defending his decision. “Medea was nearly killed when she attempted to hunt the girl down. I thought in this instance that a more subtle approach would suit our purposes best.”
Smoke curled out from the grate in a huge black fist that unfolded itself and settled heavily in the tiny room, covering the floor, the beasts, and Magus with soot and ash. “How are your servants to know if they have captured the One we seek?” challenged the voice.
“I’ve instructed them to interview all the girls who fit the description, Sire. They know what to look for and what questions to ask.”
“And what of her Guardian?”
Magus explained, “My servants will bring him along as well. We will recover the One and her Guardian and destroy them both.”
The flames in the hearth roared and a blaze of intense heat soared up the chimney, crackling and popping with energy. “I’m sensing that you are a long way from their location,” said the voice. “Why aren’t you with your servants to be certain that they bring back the right children?”
Magus shifted again and his she-beast growled low from the corner. “Our expedition has returned from the south …,” he began, then paused as he searched for his next words carefully.
“And?” snarled the voice, rumbling with impatience.
“They have failed to return with the Star,” he said, and pulled out an enormous sapphire from the folds of his cloak. “This is what they brought back instead.”
Another giant fist of smoke curled out of the hearth, wrapping the sapphire and Magus’s hand in a gloomy dark cloud. “You have killed them for their stupidity?” it asked.
“Of course,” Magus said easily. “But as you know, Sire, the finger of Zeus points now to Jupiter and Saturn. The time for the Star’s discovery is near and I could not risk missing it. That is why I have traveled here on my way to locate the gemstone myself and destroy it before it can be used against us. And, if our understanding of the prophecy is correct, eliminating the gem before it can be broken will work just as well as disposing of the One and her Guardian.”
Again the fire within the grate intensified and a small stub of a candle left on the windowsill across the room melted and dripped onto the floor. “Yes,” said the voice after a time. “Removing the Star from the prophecy would serve me well, Magus. You have pleased me with this solution.”
Magus bowed his head humbly while a small wicked smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. “Thank you, Sire,” he said. “I had thought it a good alternative.”
“But your plan to find and identify the child does not impress me,” chided the voice, and Magus’s smile quickly faded.
“What would you have me do?” the sorcerer asked, but instantly regretted it, because he knew what his sire was likely to ask of him.
There was more grinding from the hearth as the flames turned yellow, then bright red, before simmering down into brilliant orange. “I think we must call upon one of your sisters,” said the voice. “Caphiera would be closest and likely best to serve this purpose.”
Magus’s head snapped up. “I would prefer to work alone,” he said carefully.
“Do not irritate me with your petty squabbles, Magus!” the voice roared, and a wave of embers flew out of the grate and about the room. The younger beast yelped and darted for the door after one large ember struck him hard in the haunches. Magus bowed his head again. “I meant no disrespect, Sire,” he said. “It is just that time is of the essence, and as you know, Caphiera’s fortress is at least a few days’ journey from here.”
“We will need her eventually,” growled the voice. “We will need all your siblings, in fact, but she will do for now. Go to the sorceress, strike a truce, and have the girl your servants capture brought before her while you continue south in search of the Star. Caphiera will be able to determine if the child is the One we seek, and if it is the girl, tell the sorceress to dispose of her immediately.”
“As you wish, Sire,” said Magus, bowing his head again to hide his irritation at being forced to deal with his hateful sister.
After a moment of silence, the voice asked, “What news of our other plans?”
“They go well. The suffering has already begun.”
Steam poured from the flames and filled the room with a muggy heat. “I have felt it,” said the voice. “It pleases me.”
Magus curled his lips away from his jagged teeth again. “You honor me, Sire.”
“You have recovered the she-beast?” asked the voice.
Magus glanced toward the corner, where his favorite pet lay with her pups. “Yes. With rest she will recover, and we only lost one of the pups. While I travel south, Medea will stay behind. Her wounds have weakened her and it is time for the young one to prove himself.”
“I assume that while you are looking for the Star, you will also recover the final chess set as well?”
“That was part of my plan.”
“Kill the craftsman once the pieces are in your hands, Magus. We have no further need of him.”
“It shall be done.”
“Do not disappoint me this time, Sorcerer,” warned the voice as yet another shower of embers flooded the small room.
Magus knelt and bowed low to the fireplace as he said, “I seek only to serve you, Sire.??
?
“See that you serve me well,” cautioned the voice, and with another ragged tearing sound it was gone.
As the room settled into silence, a thin stream of smoke rose out of the wall near the window where the candle stub had been, followed quickly by a burst of flame that instantly ignited what was left of the threadbare curtains hanging there.
Magus rose calmly from his kneeling position, and as he did so, flames erupted from the wall, climbing along the wood and fabric all around the window as they raced up to engulf the ceiling. The great hellhound by the door snapped his massive jaws and exited the cottage quickly.
The she-beast got stiffly to her feet and, with her three remaining pups, limped after her mate while smoke and fire rolled across the ceiling and flames began to crawl up two of the other walls.
Magus walked without haste to the doorway, his thoughts as dark as the air around him. Fingers of flame licked at his cloak like winged red dragons, and thick smoke snaked about his feet like charcoal serpents when he finally exited the inferno within the cottage.
He paused on the lawn to stare with narrowed eyes at the mountains that dominated the view to the southwest. About him the fire had spread to the dried grass around the small abandoned home, and as the sorcerer moved forward again, flames from the disintegrating roof jumped to a nearby tree, then to the patch of woods just a few meters away.
By the time the sorcerer reached the first of the foothills to the Pyrenees Mountains, the fire had consumed several hundred acres of prime French countryside.
TEA FOR TOO MANY?
The following Saturday, Ian, Carl, Theo, and Schoolmasters Perry and Thatcher exited the train carrying them from Dover to London. Ian was bursting with excitement as they crossed the platform at Victoria Station and hurried to the stairs that would take them to the streets. During the train ride, he’d eagerly watched out the window as the green British countryside, populated sparsely with homes, had slowly given way to more dense clusters of housing the nearer to the city they drew.
He’d watched the commuters on the platforms of every train station they’d stopped at with equal curiosity, noting that the closer they got to London, the more people he saw wearing fashionable attire.
When they finally made their way to the streets, Ian stared openmouthed at all the view had to offer. There were huge buildings taller than Castle Dover and small shops with large glass panes showcasing the merchandise inside and people seemingly everywhere walking quickly in the late-morning sunshine.
The small group stopped a block from the station, and Ian and Carl waited on bouncing, excited feet as Perry attempted to hail one of the many black taxicabs bustling down the streets. Theo, who by contrast remained calm and unfazed, regarded the pair with an amused smirk. “You lot having fun?” she asked them.
Ian beamed a huge smile at her and Carl said, “I’ve never been to London before. The largest city I’ve ever seen was dreary old Plymouth, where I was born.”
“Do you ever miss it?” Ian asked.
“No,” Carl said in a tone that held no doubt. “Not at all. Before me mum died, we lived in this leaky old flat that was always damp and drafty After that I was put into the local orphanage and it was even worse than our old flat. There was never enough to eat, and we only had one bed to share for every five boys. It was so crowded I usually slept on the floor—that is, when the weather was warm enough to allow it, which wasn’t often.”
Ian gave Carl a pat on the shoulder. “Well, at least you’re someplace better now,” he said.
At that moment a shiny black hackney cab pulled up, and Ian held the door while Theo, Carl, and Thatcher got in and settled. Perry hopped into the front and gave the driver directions, and once Ian had taken his seat and closed the door, the black motorcar pulled away and they entered traffic.
Ian had been in very few motorcars, and he immediately turned his face to the window to eagerly ogle the passing city, but Thatcher interrupted his sightseeing by asking, “Did you bring your silver box?”
Ian turned away from the window and nodded, patting the breast pocket of his new tweed coat. “I’ve got it, sir,” he said.
“Did you bring my crystal?” Theo asked him quietly.
Ian frowned. “No. I left it back in my trunk for safekeeping.” He didn’t tell Theo but he’d made a point of leaving it behind. He was worried that if Lady Arbuthnot learned of its ability to evoke such powerful images in Theo’s mind, she might insist on a demonstration, and Ian didn’t want to risk having Theo go through another frightening episode.
Theo looked extremely disappointed. “Oh,” she said quietly before turning back to the window.
“Sorry,” Ian mumbled as he also turned away but not before feeling a pang of guilt, though he sensed that leaving the crystal at the keep was the right thing to do.
No one else spoke as they continued on their way, and Ian was soon lost again in the sights and sounds of the city. He focused more on the pedestrians as their car whizzed past. He was fascinated by the sheer range of humanity the city offered. There seemed to be people of all shapes, sizes, cultures, and ages, bustling along on their way here and there. Some carried shopping bags, others newspapers, and still others held maps and pointed up at buildings or landmarks.
A few minutes into their journey, the hackney cab paused before entering a roundabout, allowing Ian a moment to take in a busy corner lined with small shops and eateries. His roving eyes fell on something that caused him to gasp.
“What is it?” asked Carl.
“I don’t believe it!” Ian exclaimed, and squinted through the window. “Isn’t that the Van Schufts?” he added, pointing to one of the restaurants. Inside, eating their breakfasts and enjoying the view of the people walking by, were a man and a woman who looked remarkably like the couple that had recently been to the keep. Ian was convinced that his old nemesis, Searle, sat beside them, staring dejectedly at a plate of food in front of him.
“Yes,” said Carl excitedly as he leaned over Thatcher to get a better look. “Ian, I think you’re right! That’s the Van Schufts and Searle.”
As their motorcar began to move again, the boys waved their hands wildly, trying to get Searle’s attention. Just as they entered the roundabout, Searle looked up and his face registered surprise, but before he could wave back, the taxicab had zipped past and out of view. “I wonder where Isabella was,” remarked Carl.
“Odd that they’re in London,” Ian said, wondering why the couple had delayed taking their new family home to the North Country. “I thought they lived in Newcastle.”
“Perhaps they’re just in town on holiday,” suggested Carl.
Ian glanced at Theo, who was staring straight ahead with a far-off look in her eyes. “No,” she said. “They don’t live in the North. They live in London.”
Ian and Carl exchanged a look, and Ian was about to say that the headmistresses had clearly told them where the Van Schufts lived, when Theo cut him off by meeting his eyes and saying, “They lied to us, about that and about everything else.”
“Who is this we’re discussing?” interrupted Thatcher.
“Just some people who came to visit at the keep last week,” said Ian. “Carl and I thought we spotted them in a café back there.”
“Ah, yes,” said Thatcher. “There’s nothing like a visit to London to remind you you’re living in a small world.”
The trio gave him the same patient look all children give an adult who has just said something silly, and turned back to staring out the windows, although Ian found he could no longer focus on the passing sights. His thoughts kept drifting back to Theo’s haunting words about the Van Schufts being liars and to Isabella’s absence from the table with Searle and her new parents.
Only a few minutes later, the taxi turned left down a street sheltered by huge oak trees. There were large brown-stone apartments set back among the trees, and as the car came to a stop at the end of a cul-de-sac, they had a lovely view of a well-tended park nes
tled neatly at the end of the road. “Here we are,” said Perry from the front seat. “Children, out you go.”
While Perry settled the tab with the driver, Thatcher and the children piled out of the car and waited on the curb, staring up at the building in front of them. Large stone carvings encircled the door, which was painted peacock blue and adorned with a bold brass knocker. Ian was anxious to get inside and meet the earl’s aunt, so once Perry had rejoined them, he and Carl raced up the stairs. Thatcher followed and grabbed the knocker on the door, giving it three loud clacks.
Ian could hear squawks and peeps and whistles inside, and he noticed everyone on the stairs looking a bit nervously at one another as the strange chorus continued. Finally, a clicking of heels told them the door was about to be opened, and when it was pulled wide, a tiny woman with big brown eyes and a small puckered mouth stood there. She was dressed in a maid’s uniform. “Good morning,” she said pleasantly; then over her shoulder she called out, “They’re here, me lady!”
“Well, show them in, Bessie,” called a melodic voice from deep within the flat.
“This way, then,” she said, holding the door open.
Perry and Thatcher pulled their hats off as they entered the foyer of the spacious flat. “We’re here to see the Lady Arbuth—” Perry began.
“Yes, yes,” Bessie interrupted with a wave of her hand. “We know.”
“The earl has called ahead for us, then?” asked Thatcher, pivoting to look at the small maid.
Bessie laughed like he’d said the funniest thing. “Oh, no,” she said, giggling. “The earl would never spoil the fun.”
Thatcher opened his mouth as if to ask a question but Bessie was already closing the door behind them, saying, “Me lady is in the parlor. This way, if you please.” And she hurried down a hallway. Thatcher followed the maid; Perry and Theo went next, with Ian and Carl, exchanging quizzical looks, bringing up the rear.