The Last Phoenix (5 page)

A
fter fifteen minutes of walking, the Worthingtons reached the footpath that bordered the large country house where Mr. Milton lived. The gardens of the house were separated from the footpath by a wooden fence and a hedge, but at different points along the path the hedge was sparse and it was possible to see into the gardens.

The house was old and rambling. Around the back of it there were massive French windows, and grand stone steps led down from a large patio into the gardens. Mossy stone statues and bushes cut into the shapes of animals were dotted here and there. The lawns near the house were mown short with neat flowers in beds, but farther away from the house there was a wood and an orchard.

Michael whistled. “The old geezer must be worth a fortune to have a place like this.”

“Come on,” said Milly. “The workshop isn't far from the main drive around the front. Let's see if it's any good.” The others followed her down the footpath, along the
road, and into the mouth of a grand driveway that led into the landscaped grounds while Fenella flapped about in the treetops.

“May I help you?” The warm voice was gentle but made Jess jump all the same. She and the others turned to find a short, slightly tubby man with thinning gray hair emerge from a nearby line of rosebushes, watching them with a quizzical smile. It was hard to tell his age. His face was lined and his back a little stooped, but his eyes seemed bright and youthful.

“Mr. Milton!” cried Milly.

“Why, it's Milly Worthington, isn't it?” said Mr. Milton, a twinkle in his eyes. “You'll be here to collect those pots you fired, I'll be bound, with your…friends?”

“Family,” said Milly. “Michael, Jason, and Jess.”

Mr. Milton shook hands with each of them in turn. “I'm pleased to meet you. I'm afraid it's not often I have so many visitors come to call.” He paused, and his smile grew hopeful. “Are the rest of you interested in pottery too?”

“Sort of,” said Jason cautiously.

“We wondered if we could have a quick look around the workshop,” Jess added.

“Of course!” Mr. Milton nodded enthusiastically. “I'll show you.”

As Jess and the others followed him into the gardens,
Jess's eyes fell on a few of the nearby statues. They were all carved in a similar style. One looked like an enormous gargoyle perched on a stone pillar. She looked across the lawn and saw a stallion rearing up, its mane and tail flowing behind it. Nearer the house were two creatures that looked to be half-lion, half-bird. They were fighting, locked in combat.

“Have you had these statues long?” Jason wondered aloud.

“I made them myself,” said Mr. Milton shyly. “Many moons ago now.”

Jess was impressed. “Really?”

“I used to be a very busy artist indeed.” The old man seemed pleased by her interest. “I'm afraid my hands are a bit wobbly now, so I stick to restoring my statues to their original glory.”

“Like that one!” Jason exclaimed.

Jess saw he was pointing to a statue of a beautiful woman in the center of the garden. She stood spotless and white in the center of a circle of stone, surrounded by stone benches. “It looks brand-new and so real. Look at her face.”

“I often do,” Mr. Milton confided. “It makes me feel less lonely.” He gazed sadly at the statue for some time, apparently forgetting the children were there.

This guy's fruit loops
, Michael thought.
Maybe we should go someplace else.

“Was the model someone you knew?” asked Milly politely.

“I did know her very well…” Suddenly, Mr. Milton roused himself, looking reassuringly normal and friendly again. “Sorry. You must forgive an old man and his memories. Oh, it
is
nice to have guests for a change. Now, come! Let me show you that workshop…”

The children followed him into the small brick building. It was very warm inside. There was an electric oven built into the far wall with an old metal door. On the left side of the room there was a wide stone shelf that ran the length of the building with dusty bags of clay underneath and some pottery tools on top, and on the right side of the room there was a potter's wheel and a stone bench—with some basic pots piled up waiting to be glazed.

“Wow!” said Milly, rushing to see. “They look all right, don't they?”

“Indeed they do.” Mr. Milton beamed. “You have a natural ability, Milly.”

“There you go, sis,” said Michael. “When your
Annie
audition flops you can make pots instead!”

Milly leveled a glare at him, but broke off when Fenella swooped down and hovered in the open doorway. “Oh
yes!” the bird cooed rapturously. “Feel the warmth!”

Jason fanned his face nervously. “Have you been making something today, Mr. Milton?”

“Oh, no. Like I say, wobbly hands.” Mr. Milton shrugged; he seemed a little embarrassed. “I was tinkering with the controls after you came with your stepmother, Milly, and I'm afraid they jammed on. I can't turn off the kiln. I've called someone to fix it but they can't come for a week…”

“Perfect!” Fenella whooped, flying in above their heads. “I'll be done with it by then. It's fate!”

Jess tried to stifle a smile and Mr. Milton looked at her quizzically—of course, he'd seen and heard nothing at all. “It seems a shame to waste all that electricity,” she said carefully. “Perhaps we could
all
have a go at doing some pottery?”

“Well, you seem sensible children…” The old man beamed. “So long as you don't use the kiln without adult supervision, you're welcome to come here whenever you wish.”

“Really?” Milly couldn't help sharing an excited glance with Fenella. “And would it be okay if we…
left
things here between visits?”

“Of course! You don't want to be lugging pots and clay and goodness knows what all over the place. Leave
whatever you like. Treat the place as your own.” Mr. Milton walked to the doorway and Fenella quickly fluttered aside. “Now, I'm afraid I must leave you for a while. I have an elderly guest staying who's dreadfully fussy.” He chuckled and nodded to himself. “I'd better attend to him before I get back to my garden. See you again, children. Take care.” With a last little smile, he hobbled off.

The four children held their breaths until he was a safe distance away and then let out their laughter and relief as Fenella came spiraling inside.

“I'm home!” she declared, grabbing the handle to the kiln door with her golden talons. She tugged it open and a wave of intense heat swept through the workshop. “Ooooh, heaven,” she said, nuzzling inside and placing her egg on the gritty oven floor. “Cozy as crumpets. This is just the place for me, lovies—thank you! Thank you!”

“Thank old Milton,” said Michael, wiping sweat from his forehead. “Amazingly lucky though, isn't it—the perfect place falling into our laps? I mean, talk about mega-coincidence.”

“It's
destiny
!” Fenella declared dramatically.

Jason nodded. “Mr. Milton gave us permission to leave things here
and
we can come back whenever we want!”

“We'll have to tell Mum she can't come for a week,” Jess realized. “But she'll probably be too tied up at work to
play with pots anyway.”

“I'm glad Mr. Milton has got someone staying with him,” said Milly. “He smiles a lot but he does seem sad.”

“He's weird,” Michael declared.

“He's just a bit eccentric, I think,” said Jess. “Artists often are, aren't they? He's really talented, though. Did you see those fighting bird things?”

“Gryphons, dearie,” put in Fenella. “I once knew a gryphon. George, his name was. Slightly grumpy but lovely all the same.” She laughed warmly. “I'll cheer up that nice Mr. Milton when I'm done here, never you fret. He reminds me of somebody…Alfred the Great! That was it. He was a great one for roses, was Alfred.”

“What?” Jason stared. “You knew Alfred the Great, the ancient English king?”

“Who d'you think taught him to sing? Without me he'd never have been able to sneak into the Viking camp disguised as a minstrel and learn their plans.” Fenella ruffled her feathers. “Oh, I've known them all, my pet, the great and the good. And I'll leave
Milton
the Great some lovely phoenix gold when all this is over to say thank you for my bed and board!”

Milly smiled and stroked her back. “You're so nice.”

“Ooooh!” Fenella rustled her feathers. “That's what
I
call nice!” She blinked up at Milly through her long
eyelashes. “I do like my head scratched too…”

“Okay.” Milly giggled and scratched the bird's head. Fenella cooed and clucked. “Jess, come and stroke her too!”

Jess gently brushed her palm against the phoenix's wings. Fenella went into a fit of tweeting and twittering.

“Sorry to interrupt the giggle-fest,” said Michael, “but isn't it about time we got cracking on this quest of yours? And any chance of some gold up front?”

“Michael!” Milly chided.

“Oh, lovie,” said Fenella, sighing as Jess tickled her chin. “I only wish I could oblige you. But I'll need some of tomorrow's sunshine first.”

“Of course.” Jason showed Michael the map and pointed to the first instruction. “‘You must capture a shaft of tomorrow's sunshine and spin that glorious light into golden thread.'”

Michael frowned. “Yeah, but how can we really get sunlight from tomorrow? That's impossible.”

“Not with phoenix magic, it isn't.” Fenella's blue eyes were agleam. “My feathers can be used to travel into the past, present, and future. A single one can take you back to any point in this body's lifetime and to anywhere in the world I could reach.
Or
whisk you off to any point in the future where my loveliness can still be found.”

“What?” asked Milly, looking confused.

Jason frowned. “I think I get it. We can use your feathers to go into the past or into the future but only in your current life span. So if it's about a thousand years since you were last reborn, we can't go back further than that. And we can't go forward past the time of your next rebirth.”

“Exactly, pet!” Fenella nodded. “I couldn't have put it better myself. And to get the ingredients in the prophecy, you will need to travel, not just from here to Cairo, Peru, and the summit of Mount Quamquangle, but through the past, present, and future as well.”

The Worthingtons exchanged looks. “Wow! Imagine going back into the past,” said Jason. “Seeing things as they really were…”

Jess grinned. “Maybe it'll help with my history exam!”

“I want to go into the future and see what happens to us!” said Milly.

Michael's eyes lit up. “And never mind the gold—if we go into the future, I want to find out tonight's lottery number!”

“That's an idea,” said Jess, excitedly. “We can all be rich!”

“Er, just a minny-mo, lovies,” Fenella called over their excited chatter. She looked somewhat apologetic. “Magic like mine doesn't come without a couple of ground rules, I'm afraid. And one of them is that my powers cannot be
used to change the future
or
the past. It's too dangerous.”

“How can us lot becoming mega-rich be dangerous?” Michael protested.

“Time is like a giant birdbath,” announced Fenella. “Every decision we make sets the water rippling. So if you jump into the future and decide to cheat, you start a dirty great ripple in the middle of an
existing
ripple…” Her eyes glazed over. “Oooh, it gets ever so complicated.”

But Michael wasn't ready to give up yet. “Look, surely if we—”

“No, no,
no
!” cried Fenella, unexpected passion in her voice. “If it were safe to part the mysterious curtains of time, don't you think I'd have gone back to the past and stopped myself from losing my last egg? Or found out what happened to the poor thing at the very least?” She calmed down, deflating a little. “But I couldn't. It's impossible. What's done is done, and what shall be, shall be.” She sighed, and placed a claw on her egg. “I'm only sending you off now because the genie prophecy says these things
must
be acquired. Wise genies like Skribble can read the fates far better than an old bird like me.”

“Don't be upset, Fenella,” said Milly. “We'll be good.” She looked pointedly at Michael. “Won't we?”

“Especially since we have to be sixteen or over to win the lottery anyway!” Jason added.

Michael grimaced. “Well, I guess there's always the phoenix gold! That's got to be better than winning any lottery.”

“Exactly, lovie! Now…” The phoenix reached down and carefully selected a long, glowing feather from her chest with her beak. “You will need one of these for every journey you take, whether past, present, or future.”

Jason looked closely at it. “There's something stuck to that feather.”

Fenella transferred the feather into her claw. “It's the tear I cried earlier. When it hit my plumage, the heat fused it into a glow-jewel.” She smiled. “Place the jewel in a ray of sunshine and it will draw in the light for me to spin into gold. It must be a nice, strong, bright ray of sunshine, mind.”

Michael reached out for the feather eagerly but Fenella snatched it away. “Remember! Time travel must not be undertaken lightly! Each feather can be used for one day only.” She surveyed each child with her glittering eyes. “You must always return by sunset, and always keep the feather with you. Because without it, you will be trapped. Trapped!”

“We'll be careful.” Milly's eyes shone. “This is so exciting!”

Jason nodded.

“Here you are.” Fenella solemnly held the feather out
to Michael in her claw. “Use it well. I'll wait here with my egg, nice and undetectable.”