“Poor man, he dropped off before the sorcerer had left us,” said Mr. Onimous. “Your uncle is a very sick man, Charlie. It’s a tragedy to see such a bold and clever person brought to this.”
“I want to help him,” said Charlie, “and I’m going to. Skarpo says he has to bathe in something called vervain. Where do you think I can find it?”
“Hm.” Mr. Onimous rubbed his furry chin with his forefinger. “I’ll ask around, Charlie. Better be off now. Good luck!”
In his usual speedy way, Mr. Onimous leaped from the chair and was out of the room and down the stairs before Charlie could think of another question.
“’Bye, Mrs. Bones both,” he called as he left the house with the bright cats bounding behind him.
“Have they gone?” shouted Grandma Bone.
“Yes, Grandma,” said Charlie with a sigh.
She appeared in her doorway. “All gone?” she said. “You know who I mean?”
“Yes, he’s gone, too.”
“Praise be!” She went back into her room, slamming the door behind her.
Charlie joined his mother for tea, but throughout the meal he kept thinking of his journey beyond the sorcerer’s window. I’ve seen the Red King, he thought. And he has seen me. I’ve seen the leopards and the forest where they lived. And Charlie became more and more convinced that Aries, Leo, and Sagittarius had taken him to that distant forest. But why? And how?
“Penny for your thoughts, Charlie,” said his mother.
Charlie hesitated. “I was just wondering where I could get vervain.”
“Vervain? It’s a weed, or an herb, but I’ve never seen it. What do you want it for, Charlie?”
“To help Uncle Paton.”
“Oh.” His mother raised her eyebrows but said no more.
Later that evening, Charlie took a tray of dinner to his uncle’s room. But Paton wouldn’t touch it. The room was in darkness so Charlie lit a candle that stood on Paton’s desk. “Please try and eat,” he begged. “I thought you were getting better.”
Paton turned his head away. “Sorry, Charlie. I think I’m done for. It’s in my head, my bones, my guts. He’s finished me off.”
“But what did he do?” cried Charlie. “And who is he?”
His uncle wouldn’t say. In a soft, ragged voice, he asked, “Has Julia been here again?”
“Don’t think so,” said Charlie.
“Oh,” said Paton sadly.
“She might have come while I was at school,” Charlie suggested, regretting his thoughtlessness. “In fact, I expect she did. But Grandma Bone probably wouldn’t let her in.”
“No,” sighed Paton. “She’s forgotten me.”
Charlie couldn’t think what to say. He wondered if he should tell his uncle that he’d seen the Red King. Perhaps it would cheer him up. But he still couldn’t find the words to talk about it. “You could try vervain,” he said. “I think the sorcerer really meant to help you.”
“Vervain,” muttered Paton. “The sacred herb.”
“Do you know where it grows?”
“In Eustacia’s garden probably. She grows everything you ever heard of. But I advise you not to go there, Charlie. It’s a dangerous place.”
“I’m not afraid,” said Charlie. “I’ve been there before.”
His uncle groaned, “No, Charlie,” and then he fell into another agitated sleep, muttering and mumbling, with his eyes closed, his mouth twisting, and his teeth grinding.
Charlie’s mind was made up. Somehow he would find a way into Eustacia’s garden. But first he had to know what vervain looked like. He didn’t want to pick something dangerous and deadly, and he was sure Eustacia would have plenty of those sorts of plants around.
On Saturday morning, after his mother had left for the market, Charlie went to see Miss Ingledew. There was a surprising buzz of activity in the bookshop. It was usually a quiet place, but today Charlie found Olivia, Tancred, and Lysander prancing around behind the counter in strange feathered headgear.
Emma and Tancred had been asked to design hats for the play, and Tancred had brought Lysander along to cheer him up. It certainly seemed to have worked. The eerie beat of drums could no longer be heard following Lysander, and he even managed to laugh when Tancred sent his yellow-feathered hat flying up to the ceiling.
“You look serious, Charlie,” Tancred remarked. “Don’t worry, we haven’t forgotten Ollie. We’re working on a plan, but the play kind of got in the way.”
“What exactly is the play about?” asked Charlie, puzzled by the gaudy hats.
“It’s a kind of mixture of The Tinderbox and The Twelve Dancing Princesses,” said Olivia. “I’m one of the princesses.”
“So, who’s got the biggest part?”
“They haven’t decided,” said Olivia. “Manfred wants Lydia Pieman to be the lead. I guess he’s got a thing for her. Zelda’s insanely jealous.”
Emma’s aunt appeared and asked the children if they would please try on their hats in the back room. “I wouldn’t like customers to think this place had turned into a clothes shop,” she said with a smile.
Charlie explained that he hadn’t come to try on hats, but he had a rather urgent mission. “It’s for my uncle,” he said.
“I see.” Miss Ingledew tried not to look interested, but Charlie could see that she was. “Your grandmother believes I was stalking Paton, and I’d like to make it quite clear that I absolutely was not.”
“Of course not,” said Charlie. “The thing is, Uncle Paton’s getting worse. He won’t even eat now.”
“Oh, Charlie, I didn’t realize. Poor Paton. I must … I’m so sorry.” Miss Ingledew seemed suddenly very agitated.
“I sort of heard that a plant called vervain might cure him,” said Charlie.
Miss Ingledew frowned. “Where did you hear that?”
“I bet it was the sorcerer,” said Olivia.
“Was it?” asked Emma. “Was it, Charlie?”
“Tell us,” urged Tancred, “or I’ll blow your shirt off.”
Charlie clutched his belt. “Yes, it was,” he admitted with a grin.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Emma’s aunt. “And I’m not sure I want to.”
“The thing is, I don’t know what vervain looks like,” said Charlie. “And I thought there might be a picture of it in one of your amazing books.”
At that moment two customers came into the shop, and Miss Ingledew told the children to search the books in the back room. “Look under ‘H,’” she said. “Herb to Horticulture.”
It was Lysander who found it, partly because he was the tallest and all the “H”s were on the top shelf. “Here it is,” he said, laying the open book on a table and pointing to a photograph. Vervain appeared to be a bushy plant with yellowy-green leaves and tiny mauve flowers at the tip of each shoot. “It says people used to believe it cured everything, even witchcraft.”
“‘The sacred herb,’” Olivia read over his shoulder, “‘said by the Romans to cure the plague and to avert sorcery and witchcraft.’”
“And I know where to find it,” murmured Charlie, gazing at the picture.
“WHERE?” Four pairs of eyes were trained on Charlie.
“In my great-aunt’s garden,” he said. “In Darkly Wynd.”
“We’ll come with you,” said Olivia.
“There’s no need —” Charlie began.
“Of course there’s a need. We’re coming,” Lysander insisted. “I’ve got to do something that works or I’ll blow my top.”
Charlie had to agree that it would be good to have company in Darkly Wynd, though he worried that five children might attract too much attention in such a quiet and gloomy place.
“You’re stuck with us,” said Tancred.
The five friends left the bookshop, telling Miss Ingledew they were off to find vervain. She gave a cautious nod but was so involved with an elderly couple searching for a cookbook that she failed to ask the children any more question
s. When her customers had gone, however, she found the book the children had been looking at and brought it into the shop. Placing it on her counter, she studied the picture of the leafy plant with its tiny mauve flowers. “A sacred herb,” she murmured “sorcery … witchcraft …”
The door opened with a loud tinkle, and two girls stepped down into the shop.
“Can I help you?” asked Miss Ingledew.
“We don’t want a book,” said the rather pretty blonde girl. “We’re looking for our friends.”
“We thought we saw them come out of your shop,” said the other girl, who was shorter and plumper than her companion.
“Oh, you mean Emma, my niece,” said Miss Ingledew.
Her two visitors had by now reached the counter, and the blonde girl turned around the open book to read it. “Vervain. How interesting.”
“Yes.” Emma’s aunt closed the book.
“So, could you tell us where Emma and the others have gone?” asked the plump girl.
“I’ve no idea.”
“Aww! We were going to meet up,” said the girl.
“What a pity,” said Miss Ingledew. She had the distinct impression that the girls were lying. She disliked them, especially the pretty one. Her eyes kept changing color; it was most unnerving.
“Oh, well,” sighed the blonde girl. “We’ll see if we can catch up with them.” She gave a broad smile, showing immaculate white teeth.
“Good-bye!” Miss Ingledew put the book under her arm and watched the girls leave the shop.
“And what were they up to?” she muttered.
Charlie and his friends had just reached Greybank Crescent when a figure emerged from a dark alley leading off the crescent.
“Aunt Venetia!” Charlie whispered to the others. “Quick! Before she sees us.”
They leaped over the road and hid behind the large fir tree in the center of the crescent, while Venetia Yewbeam walked on toward the main road. She carried a large leather shopping bag with a gold “Y” printed on the side. As she drew closer, Charlie pulled the others farther back under the tree. His great-aunt stopped and, for a moment, Charlie thought she was going to cross the road and investigate. After a few seconds, however, Venetia walked on.
When his aunt had turned the corner into the main road, Charlie led the others over to the gloomy alley named Darkly Wynd.
“What a gruesome place,” said Olivia. “Who would want to live here?”
“My great-aunts,” said Charlie.
They walked past the derelict houses where rats scuttled out of trashcans and tramps grumbled from damp basement steps, and then they were facing the three thirteens.
“Which one?” said Lysander.
“Well, Venetia lives in the last one, so if it goes by age, Eustacia must be in the middle,” said Charlie.
“Do you think she’s at home?” asked Olivia.
“Don’t know,” said Charlie. “But I’m not going to knock on the door and ask.”
“So how do we get into the garden?” said Emma.
Charlie hadn’t thought about that. Luckily, Tancred had. “Over here,” he called, beckoning them from a small iron-barred gate. Beyond the gate, a narrow passage ran between number twelve and number thirteen. Obviously, a way to the gardens at the back.
The gate gave a loud squeal as they hurried through, and Charlie glanced nervously at the side of number thirteen. But there was only one window, high in the wall, and that had a curtain drawn across it.
At the back of the houses, yards and gardens were clearly defined by high gray stone walls. An alley ran between the gardens of Darkly Wynd and those of the houses in the crescent. But, unlike the others, there were no gates in the walls of the number thirteens.
“You’ll just have to climb over,” Lysander told Charlie. “You can stand on my back.”
“We’ll keep watch,” said Emma.
“I’m going with Charlie,” said Tancred.
“No, me!” cried Olivia. “PLEASE!”
“Shhh!” hissed Charlie. “You can both come.”
As soon as he’d climbed onto Lysander’s back and looked over the wall, he realized he would need two more pairs of eyes to help him search. The garden was a mass of plants. Herbs, flowers, shrubs, and weeds crowded together between the walls: a veritable carpet of vegetation.
“Wow!” said Olivia when she saw the garden. “Where do we start?”
They decided to keep in a line, working their way from the wall to the house. Charlie could see it wouldn’t be easy. The plants were so tightly packed it was difficult not to step on them. Olivia, in her clumpy mauve shoes, made more of a mess than the boys. She kept tripping and crashing into the tallest and most delicate-looking blooms. Charlie tried not to look at her and kept his eyes trained on the plants in front of him.
Now and then, one of them would call softly, “I see it,” and then, “No, that’s not it.”
They had almost reached the house when Charlie heard something drop onto the wall between Eustacia’s garden and the yard next door. He jumped over the last clump of plants to see what it was.
A smooth gray pebble sat on top of the wall. It looked strangely familiar. And then it came to Charlie. “Mr. Boldova,” he murmured. “The sparks!” But had the stone come from Eustacia’s house, or Venetia’s next door?
“Have you found it, Charlie?” Tancred called in a harsh whisper.
“No, I …”
There was a loud whistle from the wall and Lysander called, “Watch out, Charlie. Something’s happening inside.”
Charlie looked up at the gaunt, soot-stained building. He could hear voices. A top window clanged shut, and then they all heard footsteps running down a staircase.
“Let’s get out,” said Olivia.
“But I haven’t found the vervain,” said Charlie.
“Forget it,” said Tancred. “Come on, we’ll try another day.”
But there might not be another day. Charlie wouldn’t give up. He whirled around, screwing up his eyes and staring at the plants, while the others raced for the wall.
“Look out!” yelled Tancred as the back door opened.
And then Charlie saw it, almost at his feet. There was no time to tear off a sprig; he bent down and yanked the plant right out of the ground, roots and all.
“What do you think you’re doing?” screeched Great-aunt Eustacia from the doorway.
She ran down the steps as Charlie bounded over the garden, trampling plants as he went. Olivia was already scrambling onto the wall when there was a loud crack under Charlie’s right foot, and before he could stop himself he was sliding through the earth.
“Eeee-er-ooo-ow!” yelled Charlie, trying to cling to a spindly shrub. It was no use; he was tumbling deeper and deeper into a dark pit.
“You didn’t see my trap, did you, you stupid boy?” cackled Eustacia.
“Charlie, where are you?” called Olivia.
“Help!” Charlie clawed at the sides of the pit, but the black earth was slimy with slugs and rotting weeds.
Of all the great-aunts, Eustacia had the worst laugh. It crackled with spite. “Ha! Ha! Ha!” She stood right above Charlie, and he had a nasty view of brown tights and black underwear.
He closed his eyes and murmured feebly, “Help!”
“It’s too late for help,” sneered Eustacia. “You’re caught like a rat in a trap, Charlie Bone. Now, what shall I do with you?”
Charlie looked up. “Old women can’t do this to children,” he said defiantly.
“Can’t? But I just have,” snickered his great-aunt. “And if you …” All at once, in mid-sentence, Eustacia flew into the air. It was quite astonishing. As Charlie squinted up at the large figure in the sky, it disappeared in a cloud of leaves. He could hear a wind roaring above him now, gathering twigs, earth, stalks, and plants in a great whirlwind.
“Tancred,” breathed Charlie as four hands stretched down toward him.
“Climb up, Charlie,” came Tancred’s voice
, though Charlie couldn’t see him through the flying debris.
“Tancred’s fixed the old bat,” said Olivia, “so come on up.”
But Charlie couldn’t even touch the waving hands. “I can’t! I can’t!” he cried.
Two more hands appeared: strong brown hands that could stretch farther down into the pit. “Get a move on, Charlie,” said Lysander’s voice. “Push it, man. Come out of there!”
This time Charlie clamped the vervain between his teeth and leaped as he reached for the brown hands. They caught him and slowly he began to climb.
Tancred and Olivia grabbed one arm while Lysander pulled the other, and gradually Charlie was dragged toward the mouth of the pit. He could hear a muffled screaming in the distance, and when he crawled out into the wind, he saw what must have been his great-aunt, covered in greenery, fighting the gale that roared through her garden.
“Stop!” shrieked the green mound as Charlie and the others raced for the wall.
Lysander gave Charlie a shove from behind, and they all fell into the alley overcome with helpless laughter.
“What happened?” asked Emma, who was too small to see over the wall.
“Tancred did his thing, and now Charlie’s aunt looks like a compost heap!” said Olivia.
“She’ll take it out on you, Charlie,” said Emma, too worried to see the funny side.
Preferring not to think about this, Charlie took the vervain from his mouth, spat out mud, and dusted himself off as they all began to run down the narrow passage into Darkly Wynd. When they got there, Emma, the only one to have thought ahead, took a plastic bag from her pocket and held it out to Charlie.
“What would we do without you?” said Charlie, dropping the muddy vervain into the bag.
“It’s got roots,” Emma observed. “You could plant it again.”
“I’ll have to find out if it works first,” said Charlie.
They hurried down Darkly Wynd and out into the sunshine of Greybank Crescent. The change in temperature was dramatic. Behind them lay a place the sun had never touched. An empty, forgotten place of cold stone and gloomy shadows. They all gave an involuntary shiver and turned their faces up to the sun.
And then Tancred said, “By the way, Charlie, what were you looking at when your aunt came through the door?”