Jack took his sister’s arm and guided her through the house and up the stairs to the top floor, both of them carefully avoiding the creaky floorboards that they had memorised from frequent practice.
They paused on the uppermost step, listening automatically for the sound of Grandma X’s snoring. But that night there was only silence. Grandma X was in a hospital bed on the other side of town – they wouldn’t be up in the middle of the night otherwise. The top floor of the house was empty.
Even as they took the final step, however, they heard a faint voice calling, ‘Rourke!’
‘Did you hear that?’ hissed Jaide.
‘Yes,’ whispered Jack. ‘I wish I hadn’t.’
‘Rourke!’
Jaide felt her brother’s hand tighten on her arm.
‘Maybe it’s the old man’s ghost?’
‘Why . . . why would he be calling his own name?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Rooooourke!’
‘Where’s it coming from?’
Jaide pointed at the door on the top landing. It looked like an ordinary door, but it wasn’t. Although it should have opened onto a north-facing bedroom, against all laws of geometry and space it actually led to the house’s basement, where Grandma X maintained the secret workshop that was the heart of her mission in Portland.
Called the blue room, it contained talking skulls, silver swords, living chess sets, and a thousand other things that defied easy description. There was also a huge mahogany writing desk that had no obvious special powers, but was the home of A Compendium of The Evil, the repository of knowledge collected by Wardens down the centuries. A thick folder full of notes, drawings, and often incomprehensible essays, it was kept safely away from Susan while she was in the house. They saved their true education for the three days of every normal week when their mother was stationed in Scarborough.
The only other entrance to the basement was from the front of the house, through a blue door that was hidden from the eyes of non-Wardens. The lock on that door could only be opened from the inside, and although the twins had worked out how to manage that during their first days in Portland, it was much easier to take the stairs.
‘Rooooourke!’
The distant cry came again.
‘I suppose we should check it out,’ said Jaide, but she didn’t move.
‘Maybe we should wake up Mum?’
‘We’ll never get the Compendium if we do that,’ said Jaide. She took a deep breath and then forced herself to step forward.
Nervously, one synchronised step at a time, they crossed the landing and opened the door.
‘Rooooourke!’ cried the voice again as they stepped through the door. It was much louder than before, and Jaide jumped, rising six feet off the ground and almost colliding with the ceiling before she got her Gift under control.
Jack felt an urge to run back to their bedroom, but instead he pulled Jaide down and led the way onwards.
The blue room was dimly lit by the eternal candle flames of two crystal chandeliers. Little was visible in the gloom, even to Jack’s night vision. There were so many competing shadows, a few of them quite dissimilar to the objects that cast them. A hat rack cast a shadow that bent into a right angle in the middle. The broken grandfather clock cast no shadow at all.
Atop a coffee table balanced on one slender leg sat something new: a cloth-covered shape that was round about the middle, like a barrel, and domed at the top. The silken cloth shone in the candlelight, patterned with red and gold hibiscus flowers. Tassels along the bottom swayed gently, as though in a breeze.
‘Rourke! Rourke! Rourke!’ shouted the voice, startlingly loud in the gloom, and this time both twins nearly hit the ceiling.
‘Who’s there?’ asked a different, sterner voice from the other side of the cloth-covered shape, which was now rocking furiously from side to side. ‘Come forward, where I can see you!’
The twins knew that voice, and they obeyed it instantly.
Sitting in a chair shaped like a dragon’s mouth was a regal, blue-grey cat.
‘Jack and Jaide,’ Kleo said with the slow decision of a judge. ‘What are you two doing down here?’
‘Oh, Kleo,’ said Jaide, ‘we came to look something up in the Compendium, and then—’
‘Rourke! Rourke!’ shrieked the voice.
‘What is that?’ asked Jack.
Kleo nodded at the cloth-covered thing.
‘Take a look. She won’t hurt you.’
Jaide reached out with one tentative hand, grabbed the cloth by a dangling corner, and swept it aside.
Both twins stepped back in surprise.
Beneath the cloth was a big brass cage. Inside the cage, running back and forth on a thick, wooden perch, was a very grouchy-looking parrot.
‘Rourke!’ it said, fixing them with first one baleful eye, then the other, swivelling its head from side to side as it did so. Its curved beak was black and sharp-tipped. Even in the gloom, the colouring of its feathers was magnificent, a deep royal blue, apart from a dash of bright yellow around each eye and another on either side of its beak. It was easily the largest bird Jack had ever seen, its tail feathers so long and pointed that they stuck out the side of the cage.
‘Rourke!’ it said, and Jaide suddenly felt like giggling. Was it saying ‘Rourke’ or just squawking?
‘Rawk?’ she said back at it.
The bird took a step away from her.
‘Cut and run,’ it said in a hoarse but clear voice. ‘Parrots and children first!’
‘What is it?’ asked Jack, coming around to look at it from the other side.
‘She is a Hyacinth Macaw,’ said Kleo, licking a paw and smoothing down the fur behind her ears.
‘What’s she doing down here?’ asked Jaide.
The macaw clicked loudly with a thumblike tongue and glared at her again.
‘Cornelia is here because I am guarding her.’
‘Guarding her from what?’
‘Ari, partly,’ said the cat. ‘Can you imagine what he’d do with a giant bird in a cage? He has no self-control with food. Begging your pardon, Cornelia.’
Jack could imagine Ari eating Cornelia for sure, even if the cat felt really bad about it afterwards. But the parrot also had a very large beak and a wicked eye. Jack smiled. Perhaps the protection was for Ari as well.
A series of sudden understandings had come to Jaide, too, along with a suspicion or two. Ari had been hearing the macaw’s voice long before they had, which meant the bird had been in the blue room for some time, perhaps all weekend – and the town vet had mentioned a macaw that had escaped from the old man’s menagerie and was still on the loose . . .
‘What else are you guarding her from?’ Jaide asked.
‘I’m not entirely sure. Cornelia doesn’t want to talk about it yet. But she was at the estate the night the old man died, and it’s possible she saw something.’
This was a juicy revelation.
‘So you think he didn’t just die of a heart attack?’ Jaide asked. ‘You think it might be murder?’
‘Which means Cornelia’s under witness protection until Grandma comes back?’ added Jack excitedly.
Kleo raised a calming paw.
‘Don’t jump to conclusions, troubletwisters. We don’t know that she saw anything at all. She arrived here Saturday, just after midnight, in a terrible state. She won’t talk to me because I’m a cat, no matter how much I try to persuade her that I am no ordinary cat, and she won’t talk to Custer, either, because he turns into a cat. She just gets agitated and shouts the old man’s name over and over. All I know is that something frightened her, and frightened her very badly.’
‘Custer was here?’ asked Jaide.
‘After the accident,’ Kleo explained. ‘He came by to collect some of your grandmother’s things, and he set up the cage for Cornelia while he was here.’
‘Did he say anything about Grandma?’
Kleo’s ear flattened in regret. ‘O
nly to keep an eye on everyone in this house, and to keep Ari away.’
Cornelia was watching them with her big black eyes, rimmed with yellow so they looked permanently startled.
‘Rourke,’ she chirruped quietly.
Jack felt sorry for her. He didn’t know much about parrots, but he knew they lived for a long time. Cornelia might have been in Young Master Rourke’s menagerie for decades. Maybe they had been friends. Now he was gone.
‘Perhaps we could try talking to her,’ he said, edging closer to the cage.
Kleo stood up on all four legs, as though about to intervene, but all she said was, ‘Perhaps, Jack, but be careful.’
‘I know,’ he said. ‘I read once how a parrot bit the leg off an eagle.’
Jaide watched curiously as Jack bent over so he was eye to eye with Cornelia. The macaw studied him warily, too, leaning with her weight mainly on her left clawed foot. It had a metal ring around it, he noticed for the first time, as though she had once been tagged by a scientist. Her head bobbed up and down, not encouragingly, more as though she was reassuring herself of something.
‘Rourke?’
‘I’m not Young Master Rourke,’ Jack said, ‘but I’d like to be your friend, if you’ll let me.’
Cornelia tilted her head one way, then the other.
‘There’s a bag of seeds and nuts by the cage door,’ said Kleo. ‘Try offering her one.’
Jack fished around in the paper bag until he found a Brazil nut. He held it by one end and slid it between the bars.
The macaw’s tongue appeared again, tapping against its beak as though tasting the treat already.
Cornelia took one step closer.
‘That’s it,’ said Jack. ‘You can trust me.’
The sharp-tipped beak reached out as though to take the nut, but then she suddenly stopped, turned her head sideways, and glared at Jack’s fingers before jerking back and flapping her wide blue wings, the cage rocking violently.
‘Enemy in sight!’ she cried. ‘Rourke! Rourke!’
Jack jerked away, so startled by her sudden violence that he dropped the nut onto the floor. He hadn’t done anything except talk kindly to her and offer her something to eat. What had got her so upset?
‘She was fine until she got close to me,’ he said.
‘Maybe you smell bad,’ said Jaide.
‘How could I?!’ protested Jack. ‘I’ve had the equivalent of ten showers today.’
‘Put the cloth over the cage,’ said Kleo. ‘That calms her down, eventually.’
Jaide did as instructed, sweeping the silk up and over the brass bars. Cornelia watched her with avian wariness and flapped her wings, making the cover puff out like a curtain in front of a window on a windy day.
Then with a few softer ‘Rourke’s and one final, plaintive ‘All at sea’, she settled down into silence.
‘Poor thing,’ Jack said, almost to himself. ‘I feel sorry for you.’
‘I wouldn’t feel too sorry if I were you,’ said Jaide. ‘I reckon you almost lost a finger a minute ago.’
‘How would you feel if your master had just died?’ asked Jack angrily. ‘She must’ve come here for help and wound up stuck in a cage – can’t you imagine how that must feel?’
Jack wasn’t angry at his sister very often. He was by nature an even-tempered boy who shied away from serious conflict. Perhaps because he was tired and worried about Grandma X, or because he had always wanted a pet of his own, this was suddenly one of those times. Anger flared up in him like a wild thing, and his Gift responded instinctively. The candles flickered, and a deep dark shade fell across the room, as though the air was suddenly full of black smoke.
‘Jackaran Shield, listen to me.’
A soft but insistent bump against his left calf muscle brought him back to himself. He blinked and looked down at Kleo, who carefully put one paw on his leg and slowly extended her claws. She didn’t do anything else, but it got his full attention.
‘The cage isn’t locked,’ she said. ‘Cornelia can let herself out any time she wants. I think she’s in there because it makes her feel safe. That’s why she came here in the first place.’
‘Oh,’ he said, feeling foolish. ‘Sorry, Jaide.’
‘It’s okay, little brother,’ she said, punching him lightly on the shoulder. She rarely called him that, because the distance between them was only four minutes, and because he hated it when she did. ‘I cracked a stupid joke and we’re both tired.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ said Kleo, glancing at the nearest working clock. ‘What did you say you were doing down here at this hour?’
‘We came to look at the Compendium,’ Jaide said.
‘What for? It’s very late to be doing homework.’
‘I know, but it’s about what happened to Grandma. Did she say anything to you before she left this morning?’
‘Anything about a card of some kind?’ added Jack, putting the matter of Cornelia behind him.
‘Not that I recall.’ Kleo looked from one twin to the other. ‘Should she have?’
‘That’s okay, Kleo.’ Jaide wondered if she should try to look disappointed. If Grandma X hadn’t mentioned the missing card to her own Warden companion, there must have been a reason. Or Kleo had been instructed to keep it a secret from them. Perhaps it was best not to push too hard. If Kleo found out what they knew, she might try to talk their father out of letting them help.
‘We understand,’ said Jack. ‘But it would make us feel better if we could just take a quick look.’
Kleo looked more amused than suspicious. ‘All right, troubletwisters. You know where the Compendium is kept. But don’t stay up too late or you’ll be tired tomorrow and get into trouble at school.’
‘We won’t!’ they promised, heading around the cage to go up the steps to the landing where the great mahogany desk sat. There, between two other large folders, rested the enormous blue folder that now contained brief records of their own encounters with the Wardens’ ancient foe, along with everyone else’s. A small card stuck into its plastic sleeve said A Compendium of The Evil.
Jaide pulled the folder free and laid it open on the desk. A great mass of different sorts of papers rustled and shifted, sounding uncannily as though the Compendium itself was waking up, as Jaide had, from a very deep sleep.
‘Remember what Dad told us to look for,’ she whispered to Jack, closing the folder again and putting her hands on the cover. Jack did the same, and faintly, barely audible at all, she heard him whisper.
‘The Card of Translocation . . . the Card of Translocation.’ Jaide closed her eyes and repeated the name with him three times more, then she opened her eyes and together they opened the Compendium to see what it would show them. She could never tell in advance what that might be – a picture, sometimes, more often on thick parchment than photocopied; or an essay, typed or written in the crabbed hand of a long-dead Warden. Once, after asking who the first Warden was, they opened the folder to find a collage made from feathers, shells, and ochre. Neither of them knew what to make of the answer.
What they saw that night were numerous pages that appeared to have been printed on a modern laser-jet printer, held together with a thick metal clasp.
‘What does it say?’ asked Jaide.
The type was very small, and Jack had to lean close to read it.
Along the top of the first page, underlined, was a title. Below that were names, and to the right of each name were two columns, one for Use, the other for Location.
The Register of Lost and/or Forgotten Things
1 The Sundered Map
2 The Sound of Meredith’s Horn
3 Edgwick Bartle’s Shoes
4 The Silver Card of Oblivion
‘What is it?’ asked Jaide.
‘It’s a list.’
‘I can see that. A list of what?’
‘Lost and/or Forgotten Things, of course.’
Jack put his finger on the page and scrolled down, then turned to the
next page when the name he was looking for hadn’t appeared. He found a lot of Cards – and, oddly, reading glasses – but not all of the cards were made of metal. Some were ivory, while others were plastic or even crystal. He wondered what sort this one might be.
It was on the fourth page, halfway down:
261 The Golden Card of Translocation
Gold.
‘Jaide, you know those decks of cards that Custer and Grandma have?’
Jaide nodded. Of course she did. Grandma X had used a deck of large, incredibly heavy cards of gold to try to evaluate their Gifts when they’d first come to Portland. Custer had done the same more recently. Their cards started off blank and changed to reveal a symbol when touched by someone with a Gift. No one had ever told them who made the cards or what powers they might possess.
‘It’s one of those cards, do you think?’ she asked.
‘It must be.’
‘But what makes a card so powerful and dangerous?’
‘Maybe the Register will tell us.’ He scanned across the page, reading as he went. ‘This is weird. It says At this time forgotten, best so, and Lost to us, if not to the world.’
‘That’s not very helpful.’
Jack leaned back and rubbed his eyes. ‘Well, at least we know it exists.’
‘Fat lot of help that is,’ Jaide said. ‘I wonder what Grandma and Dad want it for?’
‘What would happen if we ask about gold cards in general?’ Jack asked.
‘Let’s try it.’
They closed the Compendium and concentrated on an image of the two decks of gold cards they had seen so far. When they opened the folder again, there was a picture of a blank card on the page and a brief explanation beneath written in a looping, old-fashioned script.
For the Divination of Potential Powers and Safekeeping Thereof.
‘By Powers, do you think it means Gifts?’ asked Jaide.
‘I guess so,’ said Jack. ‘But what does it mean by Safekeeping?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe Wardens use the cards to store their Gifts when they’re not using them.’
‘Why wouldn’t they use them?’
Kleo leaped onto the desk next to them, making them both jump.
‘Did you find what you were looking for?’