Charlie Bone and The Blue Boa (Children Of The Red King, Book 3) (13 page)

The familiar mixture of candle wax and decay filled Charlie's nostrils. He wiped his eyes and saw, far ahead, the flicker of candlelight. Closer now, and there was the sorcerer's room, the long table, the symbols on the wall, the skull on the floor. And in the center, Skarpo himself with a blank stare in his dark yellow eyes.

Expecting to fall into the sorcerer's room, Charlie was surprised to find it suddenly receding. He reached out, trying to grab the man in the painting, but his hands met empty air. He thrust his feet forward in an effort to touch the ground, but with a sickening jolt, he was turned upside down and bowled backward.

He landed with a painful thud, facedown on the floor of his own room. Beside him, the sorcerer was kneeling on all fours, with his outer black robe right over his head. From beneath this came a muffled moan.

"What happened?" gasped Charlie.

The sorcerer pulled his robe away from his face and sat back. He shook his head for a while, and then said, "Moosie!"

"What?" Rather unsteadily Charlie got to his feet. "What do you mean? We were almost there. What happened?"

"Nae moosie," said Skarpo, pointing angrily at Charlie. "Thou hast stolen the moos."

"Moos?" For a moment Charlie stared stupidly at the sorcerer, trying to make sense of his speech, and then at last, it came to him. "Oh, the mouse. Of course, you can't get back without your mouse. I suppose things have to be exactly the same as they were when you came out."

“Aye," groaned Skarpo.

"The last time I saw it was in my uncle's room. Won't be a sec."

Skarpo leaped to his feet, anxious not to let Charlie out of his sight. They burst into Paton's room, both talking at once about the lost mouse and the unsuccessful traveling.

"Do be quiet," groaned Paton. "My head is splitting. Why is that man still here?"

Charlie explained. "We have to find the mouse or he won't be able to get back."

"Ridiculous," said Paton. "That mouse is long gone. You won't find it in here. It's somewhere under the floorboards. There are probably enough crumbs down there to keep it going for months."

Skarpo dropped into a chair, put his head in his hands, and began to rock back and forth, wailing like a siren.

"For pity's sake." Paton clamped his hands over his ears. "Charlie, find my phone."

Paton had bought himself a mail-order cell phone, which he used primarily for ordering books, although, now and again, ill-fitting garments would arrive, only to be hastily sent back.

Charlie eventually found his uncle's phone buried under a mound of paper on the desk. "What are you going to do?" he asked, handing his uncle the phone.

"I'm going to call Mr. Onimous," Paton said, dialing a number. "The cats will sort this out."

"The cats? They'll kill it," said Charlie.

His uncle took no notice. “Ah, Mr. Onimous," he said. "Paton Yewbeam here. We have a problem, Charlie and I, and ah — someone else. I should be very grateful if you could bring the famous flames to see us. If they are available, of course." He paused, while a light, musical voice came leaking out of the phone. "They are? Splendid." Paton glanced at the sorcerer. "Speed would be appreciated. Thank you!"

Skarpo had stopped wailing and was now watching Paton with interest. "Thy fingers hath a magic touch," he said, wagging his own finger at the cell phone.

"Yes, you could say that," Paton agreed, avoiding Charlie's eye. "Now then, Mr. — Skarpo? Patience is required. Very soon a good friend of ours will arrive — with help. In the meantime, I would be very obliged if you would keep quiet. As you are aware, I am none too well, and any more noise might finish me off Thank you!"

The sorcerer listened attentively to Paton's speech. He was obviously impressed. Now and again he hummed under his breath, but apart from that the room was so quiet you could hear a clock Paton had mislaid ticking from the inside of a cupboard.

The house was quiet too, until Amy Bone came home from work. Charlie went down to the kitchen to let his mother know what was going on. He spoke so fast it all came out in rather a muddled rush, but Mrs. Bone soon got the gist of what Charlie was trying to say She dropped her shopping bag and sat down, saying, "How amazing, Charlie. Do you mean to say a medieval sorcerer is actually — in the flesh — sitting in Paton's room?"

"I think he's probably more Tudor than medieval," said Charlie. "His father had something to do with Mary Queen of Scots."

"I can't get over it. I mean, I'd no idea your talent would lead to this. Does your grandmother know?"

"Yes. But she fainted when she saw him."

"I'm not surprised."

The bell rang and Charlie ran to open the door.

"Here we are, Charlie. At your service." Mr. Onimous leaped into the hall, followed by the three cats. “Afternoon, ma'am," he said, when Amy Bone popped her head around the door.

"I'll leave you to it," she said, retreating into the kitchen.

The presence of the cats always made Charlie feel unaccountably happy It was like watching the sun come out after a gray rainy day They paced around his legs, rubbing their heads against his knees and filling the hall with their loud purring, while Charlie explained the situation to Mr. Onimous. "Uncle Paton thought the flames would find the mouse," said Charlie. "But surely they'll kill it, won't they?"

"Of course they won't. Not if they know what's wanted," said Mr. Onimous. "Upstairs with you, my beauties!"

The cats bounded up the stairs, Aries leading, with orange Leo close behind, and yellow Sagittarius bringing up the rear like a bolt of brilliant light.

Unfortunately Grandma Bone chose that moment to open her door. "Cats!" she screamed.

Aries spat at her, Leo hissed, and Sagittarius growled.

Grandma Bone stepped back into her room and slammed the door. "I'm not coming out until those creatures have left the house," she shouted.

"That's fine by me," muttered Charlie.

He led Mr. Onimous and the cats into Paton's bedroom, where Mr. Onimous bent over the invalid's bed and said, "I heard olyour affliction, Mr. Yewbeam. Rest assured we'll do all we can to help."

"Thank you, Orvil," said Paton, "but it is that man whose needs are most pressing." He pointed at Skarpo.

Mr. Onimous gave a little jump. He hadn't noticed the sorcerer, hunched in an armchair beyond Paton's desk. "Mercy! Forgive me, sir. What an honor. Orvil Onimous." He held out a pawlike hand.

The sorcerer allowed his own hand to be shaken, but he seemed hardly aware of Mr. Onimous. His gaze was fixed on the three bright cats. "Beautiful beasties," he murmured. “Ancient creatures. Leopards, no doubt. Thine, sir?"

"They belong to no one," said Mr. Onimous. "Though, once, they were the King's. I'm speaking of the Red King, of course."

"The Red King. Aye." Skarpo nodded, his eyes still on the cats, watching them hungrily.

"You can't take them back with you," said Charlie sternly.

Skarpo's beard quivered. "I am not a thief, boy."

“Actually . . . " Charlie just stopped himself from mentioning the stolen wand. The situation was delicate enough.

"Where's this painting then, Charlie?" asked Mr. Onimous.

Charlie fetched the painting from his room, and Mr. Onimous, putting a finger on the painted mouse, said, "See that, flames? That mouse there, peeking out of a pocket?"

The cats watched Mr. Onimous' finger, and then turned their earnest gaze toward Skarpo. Their bright eyes traveled from his face to a dark pleat on the side of his robe, where there was, now, no mouse. Their quick understanding was astonishing. In a second they had darted around the room, under the bed, and out of the door.

Charlie looked into the passage to see what the cats would do. The house was filled with golden light, and a soft pattering, a gentle scratching, a mewing, and a purring could be heard. Clever paws turned handles, opened cabinets, lifted carpets, papers, curtains, covers; pulled out drawers, boxes, shoes, clothing. And then the trio stopped and sniffed and listened.

Charlie held his breath and listened with them. Not for long. There was a sudden thump, a squeak, and a yowl. And then up the stairs they came, Sagittarius first, holding a mouse in his jaws.

The flames ran into Paton's room and Sagittarius, meowing loudly laid the terrified but unharmed mouse in the sorcerer's lap.

"Moosie!" cried Skarpo, grabbing the mouse. " 'Tis well done, brave creature." He stroked the yellow cat's head. "I thank thee." Putting the mouse in his pocket, he stood up and made a little bow to Paton and Mr. Onimous. "Gentlemen, fare thee well!" Then he propped the painting against a stack of books on Paton's desk and turned Charlie to face it. "Now!" he commanded.

"OK." Charlie looked at his uncle and Mr. Onimous. "Could you help me back — if I get stuck?"

"The flames will keep you safe," said Mr. Onimous. And the cats moved closer to Charlie as the whole uncomfortable business of being pushed and pulled began all over again.

But this time, while Charlie traveled, he felt a comforting warmth enfolding him, and as he watched the blank eyes of the sorcerer, he kept glimpsing flashes of red and gold beside him. When the sorcerer's eyes began to glow with life, Charlie knew he had succeeded in bringing him home. Now he must retreat before Skarpo started playing tricks.

However, it seemed that Skarpo had no intention of tricking Charlie. "Go now, Charlie Bone," he said, waving his hand. “And mind the herb for thine visual's affliction."

What happened next was certainly not Skarpo's fault. Behind the sorcerer's table there was a window, and Charlie's gaze was drawn to a stretch of glittering sea beyond. Before he could tug himself away he found himself flying through the window

As he sailed over the moonlit water, Charlie sensed again the warm presence of bright creatures, and he wasn't afraid. The dark mass of a forest loomed in the distance, and he felt breathless with anticipation as he drew closer. Now he was floating above the trees to a place where the topmost leaves were touched with firelight.

He looked down into a glade where a man stood tending a fire. The man wore a red cloak and his skin was the color of warm, brown earth. Charlie felt him to be the saddest man in the world.

Sparks from the fire began to float up to the sky and when the man followed them with his eyes, he saw Charlie. Sadness left the man's face and he gave a sudden, joyful smile. In a deep, melodious voice, he called three names and three creatures stepped out of the shadows. The firelight danced on their pale, spotted coats, and they looked up at Charlie with eyes of gold.

CHAPTER 14

THE GARDEN IN DARKLY WYND

“Flames," Charlie murmured.

"Are you back, Charlie?" asked a voice.

A silvery mist surrounded Charlie and when he blinked, he found himself caught in the gaze of six golden eyes. "Oh," he said.

The loud purring that had filled his ears began to fade, and he bent to stroke the three bright heads.

"That was quite something, Charlie. I won't forget it for the rest of my life."

The mist receded, and Charlie could see Mr. Onimous in the chair that Skarpo had recently vacated.

"What happened?" asked Charlie.

"There you were, and there was the sorcerer," said Mr. Onimous leaning forward excitedly “And the sorcerer — well, he went right through you. He faded first, like, until he was just a bit of shadow, and then he vanished. Phew!"

“And what happened to me?"

"You? You just stayed where you were, Charlie. Standing like a stone and staring at that picture. But the cats, now that's a different story Never stopped moving. Around and around your legs they went, purring and singing like I never heard before."

"I think they came with me," said Charlie. "Came with my mind, I mean, when I traveled."

"Did they now? Well, I wouldn't put it past them."

Charlie didn't mention his encounter with the leopards and the man in the red cloak. It was so intimate and precious he didn't have the words for it. Instead he turned to his uncle and found he was asleep.

"Didn't Uncle Paton see what happened?" he asked.

"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 questions. 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 Mss 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?