Charlie Bone and the Red Knight

  Some of the boys were playing a rather halfhearted game of soccer, others were being violently active in an athletic kind of way, and yet more were doing formal exercises, presided over by an enthusiastic outdoorsy type named Simon Hawke.

  Most of the girls were walking around in pairs or large groups. Someone had put up an umbrella, even though the rain wasn't more than a damp mist. It was a very bright umbrella, printed with red and yellow butterflies. The girl beneath it had almost white hair and wore a scarlet coat. She was holding her umbrella high enough to cover the head of a very tall boy of African descent.

  "Is that Lysander?" Gabriel pointed at the boy beneath the umbrella.

  "Must be," said Fidelio. "Who's the girl?"

  "Never seen her before," said Charlie.

  The girl turned toward them, and Charlie recognized Olivia Vertigo. He had never seen her as a bleached blonde before. Her hair color changed frequently from purple to green to indigo -- she'd even gone stripy -- but never white. He wondered why she and Lysander were together. They were both endowed, but they had little else in common. And then he remembered that their best friends were both missing. Lysander was seldom apart from Tancred Torsson, while Olivia and Emma were practically inseparable.

  Charlie waved at Olivia and she leaped forward, catching Lysander's head in her umbrella. "Ow!" he yelled. Olivia flapped her hand at him and came bouncing over the grass in her red fur-tipped boots. Lysander stood looking around for another companion for a moment, but finding none, he followed Olivia over to the group.

  Gabriel groaned to himself. Now he would have to tell his story to four people instead of one. It was such a small incident; it might mean nothing or everything. He hadn't wanted to broadcast it this way; in fact, he decided, he probably wouldn't tell anyone at all, because what he had seen wasn't all that important. His mind had simply exaggerated its significance.

  "We've been talking about the Pets' Cafe," said Olivia, obligingly closing her umbrella, "and you -- know -- who." She glanced at Lysander.

  "Shhh!" Lysander looked over his shoulder as the Branko twins passed behind them.

  The Branko twins were now lingering just within earshot. They had pale, impassive faces and the bangs of their shiny black hair touched the tips of their long, thick eyelashes. The eyes beneath those lashes were dark and inscrutable. If the twins were to get the slightest hint that Tancred was still alive, they would pass the news straight to Manfred, and that would be a disaster. The Bloors would be furious that his survival had been kept a secret, and Dagbert might even make a second attempt on Tancred's life.

  "Let's move," Lysander suggested, nodding at an ancient wall standing at the top end of the grounds.

  The massive red walls surrounded a castle built by the Red King nine centuries ago. It had been a vast and beautiful building, but today it lay in ruins, its thick walls crumbling, its stone floors lined with moss and weeds, its roofs fallen, and its once sturdy beams mildewed and rotting. But just inside the great arched entrance was a paved courtyard, surrounded by thick hedges, and facing the entrance were five smaller arches, each one leading into the castle. Four were like the mouths of dark tunnels. Only one gave a view of the green hill beyond.

  "Smells a bit musty in here," said Olivia. She planted herself on one of the stone benches located between the arches.

  The others squeezed in beside her, but Fidelio suddenly jumped up and ran to the entrance, He stood beneath the arch where he could get a good view of the rest of the school. "Don't want any snoops," he said.

  A low grunt came from beneath the bench beside them. Everyone stared at it until a gray paw emerged, followed by a long-nosed, overweight, short-legged dog.

  "Blessed!" they cried.

  Olivia held her nose. "I might have known."

  "He can't help being smelly," Gabriel reproved her.

  "He looks so sad," said Charlie. "I'm sure he misses Billy."

  At the mention of Billy's name, Blessed waddled over to Charlie, wagging his bald tail. Charlie stroked the dog's rough head, saying, "Billy will come back, Blessed, I promise you."

  The dog grunted a couple of times and then waddled away through the arch.

  "How are you going to keep that promise, Charlie?" said Gabriel. "Billy doesn't even want to come back."

  "He will." Charlie looked pointedly at Gabriel. "You wanted to tell me something, Gabe."

  Gabriel grimaced. "I said you, Charlie, not everyone."

  "We're not everyone, Gabe." Olivia dug her elbow into his side. "Or is it just very, very private?"

  Gabriel shifted uneasily on the cold stone bench.

  "Not private exactly. I mean, I suppose it concerns you as much as anyone, being endowed."

  "Come on, Gabe. I can't bear the suspense," said Lysander.

  Gabriel stared at his hands rather than meeting anyone's eye. "It's about the Red Knight," he muttered.

  No one spoke. It was as if Gabriel had dropped a spell into the chilly air. He looked up and saw that they were taking him very seriously.

  "What about him?" asked Charlie with a catch in his voice.

  "I think you're the only one who's seen him," said Gabriel, playing for time.

  "I've seen him," Olivia said quietly.

  "Oh, yes. I forgot." Gabriel had seldom seen such an earnest expression on Olivia's face. It was encouraging. "As you know," he continued, "my family inherited the Red King's cloak. It was kept in a chest under my parents' bed, and as I told you before, the cloak disappeared just before the knight was seen."

  Charlie nodded. "He was on the iron bridge, and he saved Liv and me from drowning. He's saved my life twice now."

  "The cloak was billowing all around him, like a great red cloud," Olivia said, elegantly demonstrating with her arms, "but we couldn't see his face because of the helmet and the visor. We thought it might be the Red King himself, or his ghost."

  "No," said Gabriel. "It wasn't. I've thought and thought about it. I've gone over it in my mind, trying to remember every little detail. ..."

  "Hurry up, Gabe," said Fidelio. "Some of the others are leaving the grounds. It's nearly the end of break."

  Fidelio's interruption flustered Gabriel. He frowned with concentration while the others waited for him to continue.

  "It was one morning," Gabriel began, "very early, still night really, because the moon was up.

  Something woke me, I don't know what. I went to the window to see if a fox had crept in and gotten one of our chickens. And I saw this figure in our yard in the moonlight. He was wearing a dark, heavy coat with the hood up, so I couldn't see his face. The funny thing was, my dad was down there, talking to him in a very low voice, almost whispering really. And then my dad handed the man a package. Quite a big package, tied up with string. And then the man left. He crossed our yard and when he reached the gate, he gave my dad a wave, and then he was gone. And the next day I found that the cloak had disappeared, and I thought it must have been the man in the dark coat who took it. And if my dad gave it to him, he must have trusted him."

  "Or he was under some kind of spell," muttered Charlie.

  "It might not have been the king's cloak, Gabe," said Lysander, standing up and rubbing his cold bottom. "I mean, we know your dad writes thrillers. It could have been a manuscript or a load of books."

  Gabriel shook his head. "It was the cloak."

  "What makes you so sure?" asked Lysander.

  "Because the horse was there," said Gabriel, "the white mare, Queen Berenice. She was standing just beyond the hedge, waiting for the man, whoever he was."

  The others stared at him for a moment, and then Lysander said, "Come on, we'd better get going."

  They left the castle courtyard and began to run across the grass toward the school door. Just before they stepped into the hall, Charlie said, "Did you ask your dad about the stranger, Gabe?"

  "He told me I'd been dreaming," Gabriel said.

  5

  FIRE IN THE TUNNEL

  Charl
ie had often wondered about the Branko twins. He knew where all the other endowed children lived; he even knew about their parents, although he hadn't actually met them all. But the Brankos were a mystery. This was because they ran a store called Fine and Fancy, the sort of shop that Charlie generally avoided.

  Mr. and Mrs. Branko prided themselves that almost anything at all could be purchased in their store, as long as it wasn't a live animal and you didn't mind your food in a can. The Brankos didn't like animals.

  Mrs. Branko looked like a large, tired version of her daughters. Before she was married she had been Natalia Dobinsky, a woman renowned for her telekinetic powers and a few other, more peculiar talents. Not only could she move things with her mind, she could also produce anything -- from cans of Peking duck to breadfruit, boiled cauliflower, and curried spiders.

  Mrs. Branko liked to wander the store, encouraging her customers to spend more than they could afford, while her husband remained behind the vast oak counter.

  Bogdan Branko often wondered how he had come to marry Natalia Dobinsky. He had forgotten how they had met. He was a small, mild man with a slanting-back sort of face, his receding chin blending into a flat nose, and a wrinkled caved-in forehead that disappeared beneath thin strands of sandy hair. Bogdan had been very surprised when the exotic Natalia had chosen him above all her other suitors. Lately he had begun to wonder if it was because of his appalling memory. If you can't remember how you came to be married, you're inclined to blame yourself rather than your wife. You're also likely to forget all the appalling things she has done.

  Beneath Bogdan's counter were boxes containing everything from size 20 ballroom dresses to fur-lined rain boots. If a customer asked Mr. Branko for anything out of the ordinary, such as a pair of rainbow-striped stilts, Bogdan would delve beneath the counter while Mrs. Branko stared at it, from wherever she happened to be in the store, and the stilts would obligingly materialize within an inch of Mr. Branko's desperately delving hands.

  Every Saturday morning, the Brankos would receive a visit from their benefactor. In other words, the person who had loaned the Brankos enough money to buy their store and who would, every now and again, give them a little more money to refurbish the place with fancy lights, brocade seats, and extra shelves.

  This Saturday, Natalia was even more restless than usual. The benefactor would be coming to inspect the small cafe that he had suggested the Brankos should open at the back of the shop. "Just a few chairs and tables," he said, "a good coffee machine and some nice herbal teas.

  I'll leave the choice of food entirely to you, Natalia." He gave her a knowing wink.

  The benefactor also suggested that Mr. and Mrs. Branko should change the name of their shop. From Fine and Fancy to Not the Pets' Cafe.

  Natalia and the benefactor seemed to find this suggestion absolutely hilarious, although Mr. Branko could see nothing at all to laugh about. However, before he forgot the new name, he managed to telephone a sign writer and today the new sign would be going up.

  It was 8:30 a.m. The shop was due to open at 9:00 a.m. Mrs. Branko had instructed the twins, Idith and Inez, to tidy the shelves, and they were now sitting on the counter, rearranging the cans telekinetically. The twins didn't always get along with each other, and today they were both becoming increasingly angry as cans that Idith had just arranged on the bottom shelf were sent flying up to the top shelf by her twin.

  Mr. Branko sat in a corner, reading his newspaper while, outside, two men on ladders hammered the new sign into place.

  At that very moment, Charlie's friend Benjamin Brown was walking down Spectral Street with his dog, Runner Bean. They were heading, in a roundabout way, for the park.

  Benjamin lived opposite Charlie on Filbert Street. They had been friends since they were four years old, but Benjamin wasn't endowed, so he didn't go to Bloor's Academy, for which he was truly thankful.

  Benjamin was almost at the end of Spectral Street when he saw two men on ladders fixing a sign above a shop door. He stopped to watch the men and remembered that the shop had once been called Fine and Fancy. Benjamin read the new sign, and his mouth dropped open. He rubbed his eyes, not quite able to believe what he was seeing.

  "Not the Pets' Cafe?" he said in a loud and shocked voice. Then he repeated himself in an even louder and even more shocked voice, "NOT THE PETS' CAFE?"

  Runner Bean gave three hearty barks in sympathy.

  "What's your problem?" said the man on the left-hand ladder.

  "Not... not... not..." Benjamin stuttered as he pointed to the sign.

  "Move on!" said the other man, hammering the last nail into the sign. "You'll give the place a bad name."

  "It is a bad name," cried Benjamin, and Runner Bean barked in agreement.

  "That dog can read," said the first man with a nasty laugh. "Not the Pets' Cafe! Ha-ha!"

  Both men came down their ladders, folded them up, and began to fix them onto their van.

  Benjamin stared and stared at the sign, and then he became aware that two girls were glaring at him through the shop window. They had very pale faces and very black hair. One of them stuck her tongue out at Benjamin. This brought on a storm of howling from Runner Bean. A woman appeared in the store doorway. She looked exactly like the girls, except that she was bigger and a lot older.

  "We don't open until nine o'clock," the woman said coldly. "If you want to come in, you'll have to wait. And get rid of the dog."

  "I don't want to come in!" Benjamin backed away. He pointed at the sign. "Why does it say "Not the Pets' Cafe?"

  "That's my business," the woman replied.

  Benjamin suddenly felt compelled to look at the two girls. There was something very odd about them. He could almost feel the intense concentration in their dark eyes. Runner Bean's hair was standing up like a brush. Benjamin shook his head and shivered. The girls were staring at one of the ladders, and the ladder was sliding off the van. It hovered for a moment and then began to move toward Benjamin.

  "STOP!" roared the black-haired woman, glaring at the girls in the window. "Wrong time."

  The ladder gave a shudder and slid back into place.

  The two workmen looked at each other in disbelief. "What was that?" one muttered.

  "Wind," snapped the woman and strode back into her shop.

  Benjamin had seen enough. He tore down the street, with Runner Bean bounding and barking beside him. They didn't stop running until they had reached number nine Filbert Street.

  Benjamin leaped up the steps and rang the bell, calling, "Charlie! Charlie!"

  The door was opened by Maisie. "Good heavens, Benjamin Brown, what's the trouble?" she asked.

  "There's another cafe, Mrs. Jones," Benjamin said breathlessly. "Only it's Not the Pets' Cafe."

  Maisie frowned. "There are lots of other cafes, Benjamin, dear," she said gently.

  "But not Not the Pets' Cafe cafes."

  Maisie didn't know what to make of this. Benjamin was a nice boy, but he sometimes got the wrong end of the stick. "I think you need to see Charlie," she said. "He's gone to see Mr. Onimous."

  "The Pets' Cafe!" cried Benjamin. "That's where I should be." He jumped down to the sidewalk and tore up the street with his long-legged dog racing in front of him.

  Maisie watched them for a moment, shook her head, and closed the door.

  "Who was that?" a voice called from the sitting room. "Was it the mail? I'm expecting something."

  "It wasn't the mail, Grizelda," said Maisie.

  "Who, then?" Grandma Bone came into the hall. "I hate mysteries."

  "It's not a mystery," Maisie told her. "It was just Benjamin Brown. He was rambling on about a cafe that wasn't for pets."

  To Maisie's surprise, Grandma Bone began to laugh. "Ha-ha-ha," she cackled. "That'll teach them."

  It always worried Maisie when Grandma Bone's laughter turned spiteful. Perhaps Benjamin wasn't so deluded after all.

  Benjamin and Runner Bean were now racing, side by side, along High Str
eet. It was still early and there were only a few shoppers around. They turned the corner onto Frog Street and came upon a dreadful scene. The Silks' old van was parked halfway down the narrow alley, and Charlie, Gabriel, and Mr. Silk were piling boxes and furniture into it. The small yard in front of the cafe was crammed with chairs, cupboards, tables, boxes, and a large iron bedstead. Two woebegone figures sat on the bed: Mr. and Mrs. Onimous. Mrs. Onimous was weeping copiously, while her husband held one of her hands and stared stonily ahead.

  "What's happened?" cried Benjamin.

  "Landlord," shouted Charlie as he and Gabriel lifted a roll of carpet into the van.

  "Landlord? But I thought..." Benjamin looked at the Onimouses.

  "Yes, Ben," Mr. Onimous said bitterly. "The landlords kick you out if you haven't paid your rent. But we own the Pets' Cafe and we've paid our rent. We've done nothing to deserve this. Nothing."

  "So why?" Benjamin approached Charlie and Gabriel.

  "The council," said Charlie. "They said the cafe wasn't safe for the public. And the Onimouses can't live here anymore because the wall at the back is crumbling."

  "It isn't crumbling," muttered Mr. Silk, throwing an angry glance at the hired mover, a sickly-looking creature with thin, sepia-colored hair. He was throwing bags from the doorway onto the muddy cobblestones. One of the bags burst open and a pile of socks and stockings rolled out.

  Mr. Onimous jumped up from the bed and ran across to the mover, shouting, "Be careful! Those are our belongings."

  The mover snickered and backed into the darkness of the empty cafe.

  "He doesn't look like a mover, does he?" Benjamin remarked.

  Charlie had to agree. He had never seen a mover before, but he was sure that men who spent their lives moving other people's furniture should be a bit more robust than the skinny individual who was flinging bags into the alley. His assistant, however, was built like a heavyweight boxer. He wore only a white undershirt and camouflage pants, and his shoulders were as wide as the table he was now maneuvering through the door.