Charlie Bone And The Red Knight (Children Of The Red King), Page 3

She took the eel-like fingers with a barely concealed look of distaste. "Titania Tilpin," she said, rising to her feet. "I am about to speak."

  Everyone in the room appeared to know Titania and wild applause broke out. She gave her audience a gratified smile and said, "I know what you are expecting and I shall not disappoint you."

  More applause. The headmaster frowned. He had not received such generous applause. "Allow Mrs. Tilpin to speak," he said.

  The woman smiled and drew from the folds of her sparkling black cloak a round mirror set in a jeweled frame. The mirror glass blazed so brilliantly, some of the visitors had to cover their eyes. And then, with blissful sighs, the spellbound audience fell silent.

  "The Mirror of Amoret," announced Mrs. Tilpin. "Most of my audience has seen it already, but for your benefit, Lord Grimwald, this mirror was made by the Red King for his daughter Amoret. It is nine hundred years old."

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  "And is an aid to travel," Lord Grimwald interrupted in a bored tone. "Yes, I've heard of it."

  "Much more than an aid," Mrs. Tilpin said indignantly. "I have only just begun to understand its many properties. Formerly I have used it to bring my ancestor, the enchanter Count Harken, into the city. He was eventually driven back into his own world -- I won't go into detail -- but I have hopes that he can return again. Now, I have something to show you all." She turned and, tossing back her sequined cloak, held the mirror so that its radiant light was beamed on the wall behind her.

  A glowing circle appeared on the wall. It grew to the size of a small table. And then, within the circle, the fuzzy contours of plants and trees appeared. As a green jungle came into focus, a boy could be seen wandering through the trees with a tiger at his side. The boy had snow-white hair and thick-lensed glasses. Unfortunately, a jagged line ran diagonally across the scene, cutting it in two.

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  "Your mirror is flawed," Lord Grimwald observed.

  "Charlie Bone did it," snapped Mrs. Tilpin. "Infernal boy. I had a promise from Ezekiel here that he would help to mend it. But, so far, his promises have come to nothing."

  "I am old, Titania," Ezekiel protested. "My magic is waning and I must conserve my strength. I told you to consult Dorcas Loom. She can do it, I am certain."

  "It is of no consequence," Lord Grimwald said, with a yawn. "We can see the boy well enough. Continue, Mrs. Tilpin."

  "Of no consequence." Mrs. Tilpin glared at Lord Grimwald. She shook her shoulders like a hen ruffling her feathers, and the black cape sparkled. "My mirror is of great consequence!"

  "Of course, of course, Titania," said the headmaster. "Tell us more; our audience is waiting."

  With a defiant look at Lord Grimwald, Mrs. Tilpin pointed to the white-haired boy. "Billy Raven," she said,

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  "and a tiger that is not a tiger, an illusion conjured up by the enchanter to entertain the boy."

  Ezekiel gave a sudden cackle. "How delicious to see the little wretch trapped in Badlock, never to return. Never to claim his inheritance. There's a will, you see, my friends." He wheeled himself to the front of the stage and addressed the audience directly. "That's where you come in. The document is signed by my great-grandfather Septimus Bloor. It leaves all his land, his treasures, and even his house to his oldest daughter, Maybelle, and her heirs. Her only remaining descendant is Billy Raven" -- Ezekiel turned his chair and pointed to the wall -- "still strolling through the enchanted jungle. Billy is unaware, you see, and only I know the truth because it was told to me by my great-aunt Beatrice, a witch, who poisoned Maybelle and forged a false will leaving everything to my side of the family. But the real will still exists." Ezekiel banged the arm of his wheelchair with surprising vigor. "And I believe that Lyell Bone, father of Charlie, has hidden it."

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  At this point Manfred stood up and, leaning over the table, declared, "It must never be found by anyone outside this room. Do you understand?"

  A low murmur broke out. There were enthusiastic nods and cries of "Never!" and "We'll see to it!"

  "See to it, you must," said Manfred, his dark, hypnotic gaze traveling over the assembled villains. "Find it, you must. Destroy it, we must. Lyell Bone is at sea, hopefully never to return." He glanced at Lord Grimwald. "But he might have passed a hint, a clue to his son, Charlie. We will deal with the boy. You must find the will."

  "Carefully, mind," said Dr. Bloor. "Nothing violent. We don't want to cause suspicion or alert the law. The Pets' Cafe is a good place to start. Counciller Loom and Norton Cross" -- he looked at Norton in the front row and Norton gave a nod -- "they have helped us to close the place. Once the owners are evicted, you can search the cafe. There may be a tunnel that leads to the castle ruins. Find it! Investigate!"

  "I'll do it," said Amos the arsonist.

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  "And me," called the man in the white undershirt. "I'm very nimble, me."

  "Don't cause suspicion," warned Dr. Bloor.

  "Rewards?" piped up Dolores, tossing her red ringlets. "What do we get for helping you?"

  "Money," said Ezekiel. "Lots of it. What else would you want?"

  "Money'll do," said Dolores. "Ten thousand if I find the will."

  Ezekiel scratched his long nose, wondering if he could eventually go back on his word. "Ten thousand," he agreed, somewhat reluctantly.

  "A thousand for trying!" demanded a white-haired man in a purple suit, an illusionist by the name of Wilfred Coalpaw.

  Dr. Bloor shook his head. "Just for trying? It's rather --"

  "Agreed!" cried Ezekiel, who had decided that going back on his word wouldn't be too difficult. "A thousand for each of you. There'll be plenty to go around if we find where Septimus hid the rest of his treasure.

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  You can go now." He waved his hand dismissively.

  There was a great deal of scraping, stamping, and shuffling as the audience rose from their seats and made for the door. A few of them cast curious glances at the white cube. A sound came from it. Waves perhaps. There was a faint rustle of a tide rolling onto a stony shore.

  "By the way," called Manfred, as though to distract them, "Ingledew's Bookstore. Keep an eye on it. Get in there if you can. Old books make good hiding places."

  The guests murmured among themselves and left the room.

  Six people remained sitting in the front row: Grizelda Bone and her three sisters on one side of the aisle. Norton Cross and the swordsman on the other.

  "Bring us some tea!" Dr. Bloor demanded when Weedon poked his head around the door.

  "And cookies," added Ezekiel. "And cake!"

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  "For all of you?" asked Weedon, counting heads.

  "All," said Dr. Bloor. "Eleven, to be precise."

  With a bad-tempered mutter, Weedon withdrew his head and closed the doors.

  "At last, the elite." Ezekiel beamed down at his six remaining guests. "Now we can discuss things more -- comprehensively. Ashkelan Kapaldi, welcome!"

  The swordsman stood and bowed deeply, first to the stage and then to Grandma Bone and her three sisters. He was a very colorful figure with his wide lace collar and emerald green tunic embroidered with gold. His cuffs were made of lace too, and his breeches were green velvet. Wide leather boots reached almost to his thighs, and a scarlet cummerbund encircled his waist. A broad leather belt hung diagonally across his chest from his shoulder to below his waist, and attached to this was a dark green scabbard.

  "In the seventeenth century," Ezekiel announced,

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  "Ashkelan Kapaldi was the greatest swordsman in Europe."

  "Swordsman?" questioned Grandma Bone.

  "Seventeenth... ?" murmured her sister Eustacia.

  "I did it," said Mrs. Tilpin. "That is to say, I did it with the help of the mirror and my son, Joshua, who is endowed with magnetism. Together they" -- she made a small circular motion with her hand -- "they drew Ashkelan from his painting. And here he is... and his sword!"

  At this, Ashkelan pulled hi
s sword from its scabbard and sent it skimming toward the four sisters. They rose as one, with loud shrieks and exclamations, and the sword came to a halt, swaying gently on its point. A deep scratch on the polished floor left no doubt as to the sword's effectiveness.

  "Fear not, ladies," said Ashkelan as the sword swept back to him. "See, it is under my command." He grabbed the sword and limped closer to Ezekiel. "I have been told, good sire, that every endowed child

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  in this part of the world is within these walls on a weekday."

  "That is so," said Dr. Bloor.

  "Not so," stated Ashkelan. "I can sense the endowed and I have seen one, not one hour since, in the very courtyard before your establishment. A boy of medium height, a creeping, prying, nasty boy. And he is protected, sir, by none other than the Red Knight."

  "Red Knight," breathed Ezekiel, leaning toward Ashkelan. "A Red Knight, you say?"

  "Aye. His mount is a white mare," said the swordsman, "his cloak all red, the helmet's plume a fluttering scarlet. And he wounded me, good sirs and ladies. He wounded me and I cannot let that pass."

  "Of course not, sir!" Ezekiel was now bent almost in half, his breath rattling in his chest. "Whoever this knight may be, we shall put an end to him."

  "First the boy," said Manfred coldly. "We can't have an endowed boy wandering the streets without our knowledge."

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  3. A FAMILY TREE

  Tancred got to his feet. Had he known it was Charlie's uncle Paton standing there in the dark, he wouldn't have taken fright. Paton Yewbeam spent much time in the dark. His endowment was an unfortunate one -- the ability to make artificial lights brighten. Exploding lights were a terrible mess and quite embarrassing for Paton, so he tended to avoid them whenever possible.

  Tancred brushed the knees of his jeans, feeling rather foolish. "Sorry, sir," he said.

  "On the contrary, Tancred," Paton said in a low voice, "it is I who must apologize. My wretched affliction compels me to walk in the shadows. I'm afraid I've already distressed at least three other people tonight."

  "There's a man with a sword ... a sword that..." Tancred hesitated, unsure how to describe the scene that had so unnerved him.

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  "I know. I saw him, too," said Paton, "and the knight."

  "I didn't know where to go, what to --"

  "Come with me." Paton took Tancred's arm and hurried him away from Frog Street. "I was on my way to the bookstore. We can discuss things there. Hurry! And tread softly if you can."

  "Yes, sir."

  They walked together down High Street, their footsteps light and brisk. Every so often, Paton would stop and hold Tancred still so that he could listen for any following sounds. But there were none. And yet something accompanied them. A hoarse whisper seemed to echo down the street, a faint groan came from a shifting manhole cover, and there was a soft whine in the air above them, either from overhead cables or telephone wires. And then there was the smell, strong and salty, that clung to their hair and faces.

  "The father of the boy who tried to drown you is here," murmured Paton.

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  "I know. I can taste him," Tancred said.

  They reached a row of ancient half-timbered buildings standing in the shadow of the great cathedral. Ingledew's Bookstore was one of a dozen small, rather exclusive stores on a sidewalk that ran beside the cathedral square. There was a lamppost standing immediately outside the window, but the light at the top was unlit. The council had given up replacing the bulb as it exploded so frequently. The councillors were all aware of Paton Yewbeam's unfortunate talent and guessed that he was responsible for the power surges. But none of them could bring themselves to mention it, for fear of being ridiculed. They pretended to believe that the constant shattering of glass was caused by hooligans.

  Soft candlelight illuminated the bookstore window, where large leather-bound books lay on folded velvet. Paton rang the doorbell, and a tall woman appeared so quickly behind the glass in the door, it seemed likely that she had been waiting for him.

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  She withdrew the bolts, unlocked the door, and opened it, saying, "Paton, come in."

  There was tenderness in the woman's voice, the sort that made Tancred feel a little uncomfortable. And then she saw him and uttered a little gasp of surprise.

  "Julia, it's Tancred," Paton reassured her. "I thought it best to bring him here."

  "Sorry, Miss Ingledew," Tancred mumbled. "Hope I'm not intruding."

  "Of course not." She gave him a warm smile and walked down the three steps into her store.

  Tancred followed her while Paton locked and bolted the door again. Miss Ingledew led the way around the store counter, where three candles in bronze saucers burned with a sudden brightness as the visitors stirred the air.

  Behind the counter, a thick velvet curtain hid Miss Ingledew's cozy living room. Here a log fire burned in the grate, and shelves of books lined the walls right up to the ceiling. Tancred was surprised

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  to see Miss Ingledew's niece, Emma, kneeling before the fire. She had her back to him, while she brushed her pale gold hair over her head. Tancred gave a polite cough and said, "Em?"

  The girl tossed back her long hair and stared at Tancred, her cheeks reddening.

  "Hello," she said. "I've... er... got a cold or a sore throat that might soon be a cold. So I didn't go back to school."

  "Me neither." Tancred grinned.

  "Well, you can't go back, can you?" Emma wrapped a hank of hair around her hand. "I mean you can't ever, now that they think you're dead."

  Paton and Miss Ingledew had disappeared through the door into the kitchen, and the clink of dishes could be heard above the low murmur of their voices.

  Tancred eased himself onto the sofa behind Emma. "I suppose I could turn up and give everyone a fright," he said.

  "Not a good idea." Emma came to sit beside him,

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  and he noticed that her hair was still damp. It was very fine, silky hair and he had a sudden urge to touch it. This thought made him blush for some reason, and he stared into the flames, not quite knowing how to continue the conversation.

  Miss Ingledew saved him the trouble by carrying a tray of tea into the room. She set it down on her .desk, every other available surface having been taken over by books and candlesticks.

  "I've told Julia about the things you saw tonight." Paton handed Tancred a mug of tea.

  "Thanks, Mr. Yewbeam!" Tancred clutched the warm mug. "But you saw them, too," he added anxiously. "You know I didn't imagine it."

  "What did you see?" Emma demanded as she reached for her tea. "What's been going on?" She turned to Tancred. "And, come to that, why are you here, in the middle of the night?"

  Tancred explained that he had come to warn the Onimouses that Norton Cross, their doorman, could no longer be trusted. He went on to describe the

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  extraordinary events that had followed: the foreign swordsman who seemed to have stepped from the past, the sword that fought on its own, and the mounted knight in his scarlet cloak. "If the knight hadn't turned up, I'd have been done for," Tancred finished dramatically.

  Emma's gray eyes widened. "Oh, Tancred!"

  Tancred glanced at her anxious face and smiled. "Funny thing is, I recognized the swordsman. I'm sure I've seen him in the school, in a painting, that is."

  "You have." Paton lowered himself into an armchair by the fire. "I saw him once and have never forgotten it. He is one of Mrs. Tilpin's forebears. I imagine it was she who brought the man into our world."

  "With the help of a mirror that does not belong to her, no doubt," Miss Ingledew remarked crisply.

  "Charlie's mirror?" asked Emma.

  "Indeed." Paton's dark eyes glinted. "The Mirror of Amoret."

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  "But who is this mysterious swordsman?" begged Emma.

  "Ashkelan Kapaldi," Paton told her. "A swordsman of renown and a magician of sorts. Though, as far
as I can tell, it was only his sword that he could bend to his will and set to killing, all on its own. He was active during the English Civil War. How do I know this?" He waved a hand at a bookcase in the corner. It contained ancient, dusty books bound in peeling leather, their yellowed leaves covered in mysterious, faded writing. Tancred had taken a look at one of them and understood hardly a word.

  "He seemed to recognize me," Tancred said thoughtfully, "that swordsman. I felt that he knew I was endowed."

  "It's something we have in common," Paton remarked. "I can often recognize one of the Red King's descendants. Most of us have a way of knowing one another. Isn't it the same for you, Tancred?"

  Tancred wasn't sure. He certainly wouldn't have known that pretty Miss Chrystal, the former music teacher,

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  was, in fact, a witch of the very darkest nature. He slowly shook his head. "I didn't know about Mrs. Tilpin."

  "No," Paton agreed. "She was a tricky one."

  Emma slipped off the sofa and knelt in front of the fire again, flicking out strands of her damp hair to dry them. "Why has it all gotten so ominous?" She looked at Paton as though he must hold the answer.

  Paton was in no hurry to reply. He sipped his tea and then stared into his mug, apparently having forgotten Emma's question. He hadn't forgotten, however.

  "Convergence," he said at last. "Two things have occurred in these last few months. Charlie's father has reappeared. And Titania Tilpin has become the witch she was destined to be. I believe she is the conduit, the channel, if you like, between the present and the distant past, the world of her ancestor, Count Harken of Badlock. And it is Titania who is drawing Harken's minions back into our city. Some of them are present-day villains, descendants