Charlie Bone and the Red Knight

  How am I going to get through the palace without being seen?"

  Matilda didn't look in the least perturbed. From inside her gown she produced a large iron key. "A copy," she told Charlie, "made by a friend." And raising her voice, she called, "Dorgo, are you there?"

  The door opened and a small being shuffled in. Charlie couldn't help a slight intake of breath, not a gasp exactly but loud enough to make Matilda smile. "Billy tells me that there are none like Dorgo in your city," she said, patting the being's shoulder.

  Charlie gulped. "None." Indeed, he had never seen such a small, square, lumpish thing. Its hair, if it had any, was hidden in a big woolen cap, and its body was covered, rather than dressed, in a long brown robe. But it had a gentle face and kind gray-brown eyes.

  "Dorgo, give your clothes to Charlie," said Matilda.

  Showing no surprise or embarrassment, Dorgo pulled off his cap and held it out. A head of brown bristles was revealed, rather like a hedgehog's spines. Charlie took the cap and put it on, then Matilda helped him to tuck all his hair inside. This wasn't difficult, as the cap was so large it covered his ears and eyebrows. While they were dealing with Charlie's hair, Dorgo lifted the brown robe over his head and dropped it on the floor.

  Charlie was relieved to see that Dorgo's square body was still hidden in yellow underwear. Seizing the brown robe, Matilda dropped it over Charlie's head. "Bend your knees," she commanded. "Now, let's go."

  Charlie obediently followed Matilda to the door. But before he shuffled out, he looked back and thanked the small being whose clothes he was wearing.

  Dorgo beamed. "Is good," he said.

  "Quick!" hissed Matilda. "We must hurry. I can hear movements below. The guards are leaving the kitchen."

  Charlie shuffled after her. It was not easy to hurry with bent knees.

  "Lower," whispered Matilda. "You are still too tall."

  Charlie groaned and crouched even lower. Now it was impossible to walk properly. He lurched from side to side as he moved his bent legs forward.

  Matilda put her hand over her mouth but failed to stifle a giggle. "You really do look like Dorgo now," she whispered.

  They were making for a marble staircase that led down to the lower regions of the palace, but before they got there, a woman appeared at the top of the stairs. "My lady Matilda," she said. "The countess wants to see you. The shoe smith has come with some fine leather. You are to have your feet measured."

  "Oh!" Matilda stopped in the middle of the passage, her hand resting on Charlie's shoulder. "Must I come now?"

  The woman came toward them. She had a pale, stern face and her brown hair was pulled back severely into a silver net. Her dress was the color of dark ivy, and colored beads glittered at her neck. "Who is this servant?" The woman's cold, gray eyes rested on Charlie. "I have not seen him before."

  Matilda gave a nervous laugh. "Of course you have, Donata. But they all look the same, don't they? This one is young. I am instructing him."

  "The countess will not be kept waiting." Donata turned on her heel and swept down the staircase.

  Matilda and Charlie stared at each other in dismay.

  "Can you remember the way to the dungeons?" Matilda asked softly. "I dare not come with you now."

  "I think so," Charlie said dismally. "Oh, Matilda, I can't believe I'll never see you again."

  "Nor I," she said. "It is sad to part like this."

  "My lady!" Donata called from the foot of the stairs.

  "I'm coming." Matilda put one foot on the stair, then turned back to Charlie. "The key," she whispered, putting it into his hand. "Wait a few minutes after I am gone. And keep Dorgo's clothes with you when you go. He will be in trouble if you leave them in the dungeon. I can easily find another outfit for him."

  Charlie nodded and slipped the key into his pocket, beneath the brown robe. "Good-bye, Matilda," he murmured.

  "Fare thee well, Charlie." She bent and kissed his cheek, and then she was gone, her fine leather shoes tap-tapping on the marble staircase and then receding into the distance. Somewhere deep within the palace, a heavy door clanged shut. And then all was silent.

  The mirror seemed to move beneath Charlie's fingers, warm and smooth. He must hurry. Deciding not to attempt a descent on bent legs, Charlie straightened up and ran down the staircase. At the bottom he crouched again and shuffled forward. It took him some time to get his bearings.

  Count Harken's palace had few windows. The wide corridor that Charlie was lurching along was carpeted in furs and lit by flaming rushes. Peering into the hallways that led off the corridor, he saw one that he recognized and, straightening his knees, dashed into it. Here there were no rushlights, and it became darker and darker. Claerwen crawled from inside Charlie's collar and flew ahead, her soft light showing rock walls and a floor of brick and rubble.

  Deeper and deeper they went. The air was thin and stale. At last Charlie reached a familiar half circle of iron railings. Behind the railings a stairway of rocky steps twisted down into an even greater darkness.

  Was the troll guard already there, waiting to grab him? Charlie had no way of knowing. He cautiously began to descend the steep steps. He was only halfway down when he heard footsteps approaching, and then a deep, hoarse voice echoed along the hallway above him. Someone, the troll probably, was attempting to hum a monotonous tune.

  Charlie tore down the rest of the steps, stumbling and slipping on the rocky surface. He arrived at last in a cavelike room where a candle spluttered on a table. Beyond the table Charlie could see the bars of a cell. He leaped toward the cell and, looking through the bars, saw a small figure curled on a rough bed of straw.

  "Billy!" Charlie whispered. "It's me, Charlie!"

  Billy sat up. He stared at Charlie, aghast. "W-what?"

  Charlie briefly lifted Dorgo's cap. "See! It's me. I've come to take you back."

  "CHARLIE!" cried Billy.

  "Shhh!" warned Charlie. "Someone's coming." The footsteps above had increased their pace. Now they were descending the rough steps.

  Charlie fitted Matilda's key into the lock on the cell door, and it swung open. He leaped inside.

  "How... how are we going to... ?" Billy began.

  Charlie held up the mirror. "With this, and with Claerwen. Hold my hand."

  "Wait!" cried Billy. He ran over to his rat, who was crouching beside a small hole in the wall. "He's waiting for his friend," said Billy. "But, Rembrandt, we've got to go." He clutched the rat, who gave a loud squeal and began to struggle violently.

  "Quick!" said Charlie, grabbing Billy's hand. "We must go, NOW!" He looked into the mirror and thought of Emma waiting for him in the spare room at number nine. He could see her face now, pale and anxious. Charlie wished himself there, beside her. "Claerwen, let's go," he cried.

  Feet appeared, stumbling down into the guard's room. And there was Oddthumb the troll leaping toward the cell, his hand, with its great thumb, extended toward them.

  All at once Charlie was rocked off his feet and was tugged upward, the mirror burning one hand and Billy's fingers clutched in the other.

  The second journey was nothing like the first. How many tricks could the mirror play, Charlie wondered, as they tumbled through the dark. Wind howled in their ears, "and hailstones beat into their faces. Their legs kicked aimlessly, reaching for a solid mass to land on. And still they whirled, over and over, around and around.

  "Ahhh!" groaned Charlie. His knees hit the floor and he fell in a crumpled heap, unable to brace himself with either hand, as one still held fast to the mirror and the other clung to Billy Raven.

  "That was quite something," said a voice.

  Charlie let go of Billy's hand and rolled onto his back.

  Emma peered down at him. She was smiling. "You've got him," she said. "Well done."

  Charlie turned his head. Billy was lying beside him. One of the lenses in his glasses had cracked and he looked quite sinister with a starburst covering his eye.

  "You didn't ha
ve time to change, then," Emma remarked.

  Charlie slowly got to his feet. He was still wearing Dorgo's woolen cap and ill-fitting gown. Billy was dressed in a blue velvet jacket, braided in gold at the collar and cuffs, and blue velvet trousers. The outfit looked somewhat the worse for wear. The front was stained and the pants torn. On one foot he wore a very long pointed shoe. His other foot was bare.

  Rembrandt was sitting on Billy's chest, squealing endlessly. Billy sat up. "I'm sorry about Gloria," he told the rat in a series of small squeaks. "But it was then or never. Anyway, we couldn't have brought her back."

  "Huh!" Rembrandt turned his back on Billy, and a fly buzzed out of his fur. "How come we managed to bring a fly back, then?" the rat asked sulkily.

  Billy couldn't answer that one. "Hi, Em," he said. "It's good to see you."

  "You, too," she said. "Nice outfit."

  "It was." He looked down at the stains on his jacket. "I hope there's something to eat. I'm really, really hungry." He got up and made for the door, but Charlie held him back.

  "You'd better stay in here, Billy," Charlie said. "Grandma Bone might see you, and if the Bloors know you're back, they'll be after you."

  Billy sighed, sat down on a box, and rubbed his tummy.

  "I'll get you something." Emma rushed off.

  As Charlie pulled off Dorgo's clothes he glanced out the window and noticed that the rooftops he could usually see were now completely obscured by the fog. By the time he tidied himself up, Emma was back with a tray of cakes and orange juice, and also Alice Angel. When Billy saw Alice, the eye behind his good lens widened in terror and he pushed himself, and his box, back into a corner. But Alice knelt beside him, not too close but near enough for him to take her hand if he needed to. "Billy, you must be so frightened," she said. "What a journey you've had.

  You're safe now. My name is Alice Angel and I won't let anything happen to you."

  Billy relaxed and a smile touched the corners of his mouth. "I'm Billy Raven," he said, clasping her hand. "And that's Rembrandt." He pointed at the rat, who was sulking in a corner, facing the wall. "He had to leave his girlfriend behind in Badlock, and he's very upset about it."

  Alice covered her mouth with her hand, but she couldn't hold back a peal of laughter. Emma joined in, and even Billy started to giggle. But Charlie thought of Matilda and couldn't find the joke funny.

  "I'm glad I'm back," Billy said, "and Rembrandt will be too when he's found another girlfriend. I suppose I was silly to like it so much in Badlock. But the count was nice to me at first. He made all those animals for me, and even if they didn't have hearts, they let me pet them, and the tiger even purred. But then I was put in that dungeon. I think the count got bored with me. Maybe he thought I'd be useful, and then he found out that all I could do was talk to animals" --

  Billy took off his glasses and touched the frame of the shattered lens -- "and that wasn't good enough."

  "Count Harken trapped you in Badlock because the Bloors wanted it," Charlie said.

  "Why?" asked Billy.

  Charlie didn't think that now was the right time to tell Billy that he would inherit the Bloor family fortune, if a certain will, in a certain box, could be found. Uncle Paton had been reluctant to discuss the hidden will just lately. Perhaps he had changed his mind about it.

  The doorbell rang and voices could be heard down in the hall. Charlie went out onto the landing and called, "Who is it, Maisie?"

  Maisie came to the foot of the stairwell and said, "Miss Ingledew's come for Emma."

  "Miss Ingledew?" said Charlie. "Why?"

  Emma ran out onto the landing, crying, "I'm sorry, Auntie, so sorry. I should have come straight home."

  "She can't hear you," shouted Maisie. "She won't come in, but she doesn't want you to walk home alone. The fog's getting thicker."

  "Emma, take this, it's finished." Alice handed Emma a white plastic bag.

  "The vest," said Emma, peeping into the bag.

  Alice nodded. "Good luck."

  "Thank you, Alice!" Emma kissed Alice's cheek and ran down the stairs. She reached the landing below just as Grandma Bone came out of the bathroom.

  "What are you doing here?" Grandma Bone demanded, seizing Emma's shoulder.

  "Paying a visit," said Emma, wriggling free and bounding down the next flight.

  "At this time of the morning?" Grandma Bone leaned over the banister and stared down into the hall. "Maisie, why's the front door open? What's going on?"

  Before Maisie could reply, Alice Angel appeared at the top of the stairwell and called down to Grandma Bone.

  "There's nothing to worry about, Grizelda. Go back to bed and I'll bring you a nice cup of tea."

  "Oh." Grandma Bone looked confused. "All right, then." She padded back to her bedroom and closed the door. Emma left the house at the same moment, and Maisie shut the front door. Half a second later, Uncle Paton opened his bedroom door and, looking up at Charlie, asked, "Was that... ?"

  "Miss Ingledew, Uncle P.," said Charlie.

  "She didn't come in, then?" his uncle inquired, tentatively.

  Feeling a little uncomfortable, Charlie replied, "No, Uncle."

  "I see." Uncle Paton withdrew his head, and Charlie felt even worse.

  In the spare room, Billy had coaxed Rembrandt out of his corner with a piece of fruitcake, the rat's favorite. The fly that had traveled from Badlock in Rembrandt's fur was now buzzing around the window.

  "I don't like the look of that fly," said Alice, trying to swat it with a duster.

  Charlie noticed that, in a certain light, the fly looked green. Claerwen fluttered after it, but the fly dropped behind a pile of books on a shelf and went quiet.

  Alice went to tell Maisie what had been going on and to fetch Grandma Bone a cup of tea. Charlie ran down to his bedroom to look for some clothes for Billy. It was decided that Billy should stay in the spare room until other arrangements could be made. What those arrangements might be, nobody could work out just yet. Even Alice was stumped. And when Charlie asked his uncle for advice, Paton just stared at Charlie as if he'd been told that a Martian was sitting in the spare room.

  "I don't know what to suggest," Uncle Paton said at length. "Yes, keep him in the spare room for a while, by all means. But he can't stay there forever."

  "It won't be forever, will it, Uncle P.?" said Charlie.

  "Because something is going to happen very soon. Something that will change EVERYTHING forever."

  "Indeed," agreed his uncle without much enthusiasm.

  It was an odd day, quiet and still. The fog had crept closer and the city was holding its breath. Benjamin and his parents came over at teatime and, with the exception of Grandma Bone and Billy, they all gathered in the kitchen to hear what Mr. Brown had to say. Being a private detective meant that he had managed to discover the truth of some of the rumors that had been flying around.

  The mayor and some of the councillors had left the city. Part of the police force could not be located, though Officer Singh and Officer Wood had been spotted patrolling High Street. All the schools would be closed on Monday except for Bloor's Academy. The post office and all the banks would be closed. One or two buses might run. There were no taxis to be had.

  "So we're on our own, more or less," said Mrs. Brown cheerfully. "I've got enough food for a couple of weeks, and fogs never last longer than that."

  No one liked to say that this particular fog might carry something that could last forever.

  The Browns stayed for dinner, and when they had gone home, a bed was made up for Billy in the spare room. With Rembrandt on his pillow, he was soon fast asleep.

  In the middle of the night a deafening explosion ripped through the house. The building shook to its very foundations; china slid off the dresser, and furniture groaned and slithered out of place.

  Tumbling out of bed, Charlie met his uncle clutching the railings on the landing. Maisie and Alice appeared on the landing above and ran down to meet them. The front door
was open and a cold wind swept through the house.

  "Was it an earthquake?" cried Maisie.

  "More like a meteor strike," said Uncle Paton.

  "A bolt of lightning?" Charlie suggested.

  Alice said quietly, "Or the sound of a fly turning into something much larger."

  They looked at her in horror, and Charlie whispered, "Rembrandt's fly!"

  19

  RESCUING SOLOMON

  There were few to see the dark figure striding up the road; his magnificence was wasted on the creatures of the night, who quickly fled. Emeralds glinted at the stranger's neck, his gold cloak rippled like a waterfall, his black tunic was encrusted with pearls, and his hair was dusted with gold.

  From the roof of number nine, the bright eyes of three vibrant cats watched the enchanter's progress through the fog. When he reached the end of the road, the cats climbed down and began to follow him. Soon he sensed their presence and turned with a hiss that would have chilled the blood of any ordinary cat. But these flame-colored cats were not ordinary. They had the hearts and minds of leopards. As soon as the enchanter had resumed his course, they followed, keeping to the shadows but never losing sight of their prey.

  It soon became clear that the enchanter was making for Bloor's Academy. The cats watched him climb the steps between the two towers and cross the courtyard to the entrance. The cats ran past the steps and along the side of the building until they reached a high stone wall. Up they went, the three bright forms. They paced along the top of the wall, watching the frosted field below and the woods beyond, where the great red arch led into the castle ruins.

  A stirring in the naked winter trees alerted them. They moved closer together, as though each cat knew his senses would be enhanced by the nearness of the others. They saw the white mare first, and then her rider: a knight in a silver helmet, his suit of chain mail glimmering in the frail light of a fogbound moon. A deep purr rose in the throats of the three cats. They leaped from the wall and ran to the mare's side.

  The enchanter didn't wait for an answer to his knocking. He seized the bronze handle in fingers ringed with emerald and gold, and with one twist, he shattered the lock, letting loose a shower of sparkling, splintered wood.