"I'll say I'm feeling . . ."
"Fidelio Gunn," said Dr. Saltweather, emerging from assembly, "remember the rules."
"Yes, sir," said Fidelio, grateful that it wasn't Manfred who had caught him.
Charlie rushed off to math class, leaving Fidelio to get in the right frame of mind for his dreaded visit to Miss Chrystal.
At first break there was no sign of Fidelio. Charlie wondered what had happened to him. The school grounds were cold and misty. Children huddled together in little groups, stamping their feet and muttering disconsolately. Charlie had to peer at each group as he searched for Fidelio's familiar curly head. But none of his friends appeared to be outside.
As he wandered up to the castle, Charlie was vaguely aware that a crowd of children was following him. Rather than be trapped in the ruin, he turned off into the woods. The crowd drew closer. Charlie began to run. And then, suddenly, he was surrounded. Every tree was veiled in mist, and he could no longer distinguish their thin trunks from the drifting forms of his pursuers.
"What do you want?" cried Charlie. "Why are you following me?"
One of the children stepped closer. Charlie might have guessed it would be Joshua Tilpin.
"Your friends are pretty useless, Charlie Bone," sneered Joshua. "You might as well give them up."
"What are you talking about? Why should I?" Charlie said defiantly.
Joshua gave his cold, crooked smile. "We've come to teach you a lesson, Charlie. We'll teach you over and over again, won't we, guys?"
"YESSSS!" roared the crowd.
And now it was Dorcas Loom's turn to slink out from behind a tree and jeer at Charlie. "You're pathetic, Bone. You don't stand a chance. You've lost your father, and now your mother. You can't keep anything, can you? If you join us we can help you. We're so-o-o much stronger than your miserable friends."
Charlie had been steadily retreating from the crowd, and now his back was against part of the ancient wall. Without thinking, he turned and found a foothold. He pulled himself up, higher and higher, reaching for gaps in the stones, while his feet desperately sought another foothold. At last he was standing twelve feet above the crowd.
They laughed at him.
And then the Branko twins appeared. Standing close together, they stared at the stones in the wall, stared and stared. A huge boulder dropped out and the whole wall shuddered.
Can they do that? thought Charlie. Can they bring down a wall that's lasted nine hundred years?
They could. Two huge stones tumbled from the top of the wall, and then one of the twins began to talk. They so rarely spoke it was quite a shock.
"What a tragic accident," said the black-haired, doll-faced girl. "Charlie Bone climbed an old wall, and down it came, rumble, tumble, with Charlie on top . . .."
"And then underneath," continued the other twin in a deeper, more sinister tone.
With a jarring thud, another huge stone hit the hard earth, and this time the wall trembled so violently, Charlie fell to his knees. He clung to the mossy surface as it rocked and shook, trying to imagine what it would be like to be buried alive.
When the sound came Charlie thought it was from another part of the wall. But then it grew louder, an angry, swelling buzz.
The children on the ground were looking up. They began to back away. Some of them screamed. Following their gaze, Charlie saw a black cloud falling through the trees. The buzz became a roar and the whole crowd scattered, howling and screaming. Joshua Tilpin was the last to go. "You're going to be stung to death, Charlie Bone," he shouted as he ran off.
Bees? Swarming in winter? Who had sent them? The shadow? Charlie closed his eyes. Which was worse, he wondered, being stung to death or buried by a wall?
The buzzing stopped. Charlie kept his eyes closed, waiting for the tickle of bees' feet on his bare face and hands. Waiting for the first angry sting. Nothing happened. Charlie opened one eye. Nothing on the wall. Nothing in the air.
"Charlie!"
Charlie opened his other eye. He saw Emma and Olivia looking up at him from the base of the wall. They were both smiling.
"What on earth . . . ?" said Charlie.
"An illusion!" cried Olivia, leaping in the air. "It was a good one, wasn't it?"
"Certainly was." Charlie gingerly let himself down from the wall.
None of them noticed a woman approaching through the mist. She stopped a few yards away from them and hid behind a tree.
"We saw them following you," said Emma, "so we followed them, but we didn't know what to do. There were so many of them. Joshua's magnetism is definitely having an effect."
"And then I thought of bees." Olivia gave another joyful leap. "I'm so proud of myself."
"You saved me!" Charlie gave her a hug. "Phew. I'm so glad to be . . ."
There was a sudden rustle in the trees behind them, and they all turned to see a figure making off, rather fast, into the mist. There was no mistaking the neat gray suit and short trim haircut.
"Mrs. Brown," Charlie whispered. "She must have heard you, Liv."
"And now she knows about your endowment. Oh, no!" Emma wrung her hands. "What are we going to do?"
"There's nothing we can do," said Charlie. "We'll just have to wait and see what happens."
Apparently, Mrs. Brown was biding her time. Olivia wasn't summoned to the headmaster's study and no one dragged her away for questioning or locked her in a classroom. Wondering when the Bloors would make a move against Olivia was almost worse than knowing what they would do. At bedtime, when Charlie crept up to the girls' dormitory, Olivia came prancing down the passage in her black-and-gold pajamas, as chirpy as ever.
"I'm OK," she said, waving Charlie away. "Don't get detention on my account."
"Good luck, then, Liv." Charlie backed down the stairs. He intended to keep an ear open for any unusual sounds in the night, but just in case he fell asleep, he passed on the word to Billy, Fidelio, and Gabriel.
"Blessed will let us know if anything happens," Billy whispered before he closed his eyes.
Charlie didn't have much faith in Blessed. He was a bit deaf for a start. But if he was the best they could do for a guard dog, they'd have to trust that it was one of his better days - or nights.
Paton Yewbeam was eating a cold supper. Candles shone from every corner of the kitchen, and there were four more on the table. Paton told himself that he needed the light to read the small print of a particularly engaging book, but truthfully he had lit the extra candles to keep at bay the dark thoughts that had begun to creep into his mind. Was it his imagination, or were some of the people walking down Filbert Street really strange? Men and women who peered into windows, who ran their hands over gates and railings, who squinted at door numbers, and wrote hurried notes in small black books.
Spies, thought Paton. Bought by the count. Won over, hypnotized, coerced, or whatever. They belong to him. What's to become of us all?
Paton shivered and quickly tossed back a glass of white wine. He shivered again and took a bite of his cold salmon sandwich.
He was not inclined to answer the sudden loud knock on the front door. One of them, he thought. Well, they won't catch me like that.
But the knocking continued, and detecting a rather frantic note in the sound, Paton reluctantly went into the hall.
"Who's there?" he called through the door.
"Oh, Mr. Yewbeam, please, please, I must speak to you."
Recognizing the voice, Paton opened the front door and Mrs. Brown practically fell into the hall.
"I must talk to you, I must," pleaded Mrs. Brown. "I don't know who to turn to. I don't know what to do."
"Please calm yourself, Mrs. Brown," said Paton. "Would you care for a salmon sandwich?"
"No, no, not unless, that is . . . well, I am rather hungry. My husband won't speak to me."
"Good lord. How uncivil." Paton led the way into the candlelit kitchen. "Forgive the lack of electricity. You're probably aware of my little weakness."
"Oh, I wouldn't call it a weakness, Mr. Yewbeam." Mrs. Brown took the chair that Paton drew out for her.
"Paton," he said. "Do call me Paton."
"Thank you." Mrs. Brown looked startled. "I'm Trish."
"Trish. How nice." Paton poured Mrs. Brown a large glass of white wine. "Do go on."
"Yes, well, I don't know if Charlie told you, I expect he did, but I've been working for Ezekiel Bloor.
Both of us have. Mr. Brown and me." Mrs. Brown paused to get her breath. "He offered us a very great deal of money to find out certain things about the children at Bloor's Academy."
"To spy on them, Mrs. Brown?" There was a note of accusation in Paton's tone.
"Well - yes!" Mrs. Brown quite suddenly burst into tears.
Paton handed her a handkerchief and then went to the counter, where he placed a piece of smoked salmon between two slices of bread, cut it in half, and brought it to the table on a small plate.
"Th-thank you," sobbed Mrs. Brown, wiping her nose on Paton's hanky. "It's all been too much."
"Go on," said Paton.
"What?" Mrs. Brown seemed confused. "Yes, well, I did discover something about one of the children. Olivia Vertigo, as a matter of fact, but I just couldn't bring myself to - to betray her. My husband knows I'm on to something, but I refused to tell him. And now I just don't know what to do."
"Patricia!" (Paton disliked shortened names.) Mrs. Brown looked up in alarm. "Yes?" "How can you possibly be in any doubt?" Paton said gravely. "You must on no account breathe a word of what you have discovered to anyone. Think what your betrayal would do to Benjamin! Charlie would never speak to him again, never visit your house, never dog-sit your dog. At the risk of causing a divorce, I absolutely forbid you to tell your husband. He is obviously not as principled as you."
"I don't think it would actually come to a divorce," Mrs. Brown said timidly. "It's just that we need the money. You see, we've just bought a new car and the bills . . ."
"If you need money, there's plenty of work around for highly skilled detectives like yourselves," said Paton. "There's been a spate of robberies in the city, not to mention suspicious fires, questionable accidents, and unsolved murders. Go tell your husband that working at Bloor's is making you ill, that you know absolutely nothing, and that you'll have a nervous breakdown if you don't have a rest."
Mrs. Brown smiled. "Yes," she sighed. "I'll do that. Thank you, Mr. Yewbeam. You've made me feel so much better."
THE MIRROR OF AMORET
It was a good thing that no one had to rely on Blessed to wake them up. The old dog slept very soundly in Cook's underground room. But Olivia was never dragged away in the middle of the night, and Charlie had an exceptionally long and peaceful sleep. His uncle, on the other hand, had a very bad time.
Not long after Mrs. Brown left, Paton's four sisters arrived. He was in his room when he heard the front door bang and a babble of voices in the hall. He was of two minds whether to go down and confront them. In the end he told himself he had to go. They might ignore him, but he had to try to get them to listen, if only for Charlie's sake.
When Paton walked into the kitchen, he found his sisters seated at the table, drinking an unusual-looking soup - octopus, by the look of it. They were all talking at once and not one of them looked up when their brother appeared. He quickly switched off the light.
"Oh, no, it's him." "Go away." "Put the light on!" Paton's sisters growled and grunted at him.
"If I put the light on, you'll get glass in your soup," said Paton.
"Then go away," said Grandma Bone.
"No." Paton crossed to the dresser and lit two candles.
"I can't see what I'm eating," whined Venetia.
"All the better if you ask me," said Paton, putting the candles on the table. "It looks disgusting."
There were four large sighs of irritation.
"I want to talk to you." Paton pulled out a chair at the end of the table.
"About what?" asked Grandma Bone impatiently.
"About your daughter-in-law."
"Huh!" She continued to gulp down her soup.
"For heaven's sake, Grizelda, you must be aware of what's happening. The arrival of this count - the enchanter - must have taken you all by surprise. You surely can't approve of what he's doing, turning the city upside down, twisting people's minds, stealing Charlie's mother."
"He's very powerful, Count Harken," said Venetia, fingering the green silk rose pinned in her black hair.
"Very powerful," Eustacia agreed, patting a green enamel brooch on her lapel.
"Very." Lucretia touched a green glass earring dangling above her shoulder.
Paton's attention was drawn to the bracelet with large green stones that glinted on Grandma Bone's wrist as she lifted the soup spoon to her mouth. He got up from the table. "You appall me, all of you," he said.
"The feeling's mutual," grunted Venetia.
Paton seized his eldest sister's shoulder. "Grizelda, where's your son?"
"Dead!" she said, shaking him off. "Now leave us alone."
"NO," roared Paton. "We all know that Lyell's not dead. But where is he? Don't you realize that your great enchanter, your count, is making Amy forget her husband?"
"When Amy thinks of Lyell, she keeps him clinging to this world," Eustacia, the clairvoyant, informed him. "But if she forgets him, for a day, a week, and then a month, he'll be lost forever. Never get back."
"She's taken off her rings," Venetia said happily.
"That's the first step," said Eustacia. "It's only the boy who can keep him alive now."
"And he can't even remember his father's face." Venetia smiled spitefully.
"It'll be better for everyone if Lyell Bone is forgotten," said Lucretia, glancing at her eldest sister.
Grandma Bone's face was like a stone.
Paton stared at them all in horror. "I can't believe I'm hearing this. The count will carry Amy into the past, the future, who knows where. Oh, yes, I know about the Mirror of Amoret. Do you really want Charlie to lose both his parents?"
"We've given up on Charlie," Grandma Bone said in a flat voice. "Once we thought he'd join us, put his endowment to good use. But he's too much like his father. I realize that now. Neither of them wants to be like us, to be part of Ezekiel's great plan to control things. They will not toe the line!"
"Don't you think that's something to be proud of?" asked Paton quietly.
"It's stupid!" Grandma Bone said bitterly. "There's no future in swimming against the tide. You have to join in if you want to have power."
"Join in? Destroy people's lives? Steal their children? That's what you call power, is it?" Paton turned on his heel and left the room, shaking with disgust.
Where will all this end? he wondered gloomily as he climbed the dark stairs. His fingers closed over the scrap of parchment in his pocket and he remembered that there might be hope, if the king could be found.
At Bloor's Academy a whole day passed in which neither Mr. nor Mrs. Brown was seen. Charlie began to hope that Benjamin's parents had changed their minds. Perhaps, after all, they couldn't bring themselves to spy on children.
In the King's room that evening no one said a word. They all worked with heads down, never meeting anyone else's eye. It was as though a silent truce had been declared, though Charlie knew it wouldn't last long. Joshua, Dorcas, and the twins were merely biding their time, gathering their strength. As for Manfred, someone was going to have to pay for his horribly scarred face.
Asa was not in his usual seat beside Manfred. He was sitting slightly apart from the others. Ever since the shadow had arrived Asa had seemed nervous and ill at ease. Just like some of the animals, thought Charlie.
After homework, Charlie caught up with Tancred and Lysander before they went up to their dormitory. "Could we meet somewhere tomorrow?" Charlie asked in a whisper. "I need your advice, well, your help, really."
"Art room, before supper." Lysander glanced down the hallway. "Manfred's coming," he sai
d in a low voice.
Charlie stepped back. Night, Sander, 'night, Tanc!" he called as the two older boys strode away.
Charlie knew he wasn't going to escape that easily. The next moment he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. It was so hot, Charlie winced with pain. "Ow!" He looked up into Manfred's pitted face.
"Go on, take a good look," said Manfred. "Pretty, isn't it? Your uncle's responsible for these." Manfred touched two of the larger scars with his finger.
Given the tricky situation, Charlie should have sympathized; instead, he blundered, "It was your own fault."
"My fault?" Manfred dug his fist into Charlie's shoulder.
Charlie twisted away. The pain was agonizing. It felt as though a hot poker had been plunged into his shoulder blade. "Ouch! What is that?"
"I've told you before, call me sir." Manfred raised his hands, palms outward. "That is pain, Charlie Bone.
Two hands full of pain. Don't tempt me to use them again."
Charlie stared at Manfred's back as the tall, bony youth walked away. So Manfred had a new endowment. He was becoming like Borlath, the Red King's eldest son who killed with fire. Better pass the news along, thought Charlie.
The following evening Fidelio offered to keep Billy distracted while the others met in the art room. It wasn't that they didn't trust Billy. If too many of the endowed were missing, someone might become suspicious. As it was, they were a little wary of using the art room for a meeting. It was possible that Dorcas and Joshua might come barging in. Both were in art, although neither of them appeared to be very enthusiastic about it.
Charlie was the last one to get to the meeting. He had just managed to slip out of the dormitory, while Fidelio and Billy were arguing with Bragger Braine about the superiority of rats over hamsters.
He found the others sitting on the floor beside the long windows that overlooked the garden. They were hidden from view by one of Emma's large bird paintings, a particularly fine one, Charlie observed in the light of Lysander's new hurricane lamp.
"Olivia told us about the wall," said Lysander as Charlie knelt beside him.
"And the bees," added Tancred with a grin.