by Emily Rodda
‘It’s my fault Moult’s gone in there, Bertha – my fault!’ Mimi cried, still hiccoughing with sobs. ‘If it wasn’t for me, she wouldn’t even be here! You all told me not to bring her, and I didn’t listen.’
‘Well, listen this time, then,’ Bertha snapped. ‘There is nothing you can do for Moult now. Once the milk’s in the swill, there’s no taking it out again, as my mother used to say. If Moult was mad enough to go charging off to her doom, that’s her business. You should have had more sense than to try to go after her.’
Mimi wiped her tear-wet face with the backs of her hands. ‘I wouldn’t have gone too far in,’ she said. ‘Just far enough to get Moult back. The magic isn’t so strong at the edge of the Glen.’
‘You can’t possibly know that for sure!’ Bertha exclaimed. ‘And even if the magic is weaker at the edge of the Glen, it’s still magic, isn’t it? It’s still dangerous.’
Leo felt cold prickling on the back of his neck. He hunched his shoulders and then, unable to resist the temptation, turned and raised his eyes to the cloud palace.
Strangely enough, it looked less solid, more cloud-like, than it had seemed from a distance. Its towers were straggly, and the shapes of its windows were blurred. But still there was no mistaking what it was. And there was no mistaking the sense of menace that beamed from it like icy breath.
Whatever I feel, Leo thought numbly, Mimi must feel ten times more strongly. Not just because of who she is, but because of the Key. Yet she wanted to go into that evil mist after Moult, and if it hadn’t been for the Key to Rondo she’d still be fighting me to let her do it.
He wrenched his gaze away from the cloud palace and looked down to the edge of the Glen, where the mouth of a narrow track lay wreathed in drifting whiteness and dark tree trunks stood like ghostly sentinels. He willed Moult to come into view, willed Moult to come to her senses and return to safety before it was too late. But of course there was no sign of her. No sign …
He froze. One of the tree trunks had moved – he was sure it had moved! He stared, saw another flicker of movement, and realised that it wasn’t a tree trunk at all. It was a shadow – a tall, thin, wavering shadow, gliding through the mist. He drew a sharp breath.
‘What is it?’ exclaimed Mimi, whirling round and trying to see what he was looking at. ‘Is it Moult?’
‘No,’ Leo managed to say. ‘There’s something else there … moving in the trees. I don’t know what it –’ He broke off with a gasp. The shadow had passed into a drift of finer mist, and at last he saw it clearly. It was the dark shape of a man – an old man wearing a flowing cloak and a tall, pointed hat.
Mimi made a smothered sound, and as if he had heard her, the man turned to face the picnic area. For an instant Leo saw the gleam of white beard and hair and the flash of agonised eyes that seemed to be looking straight into his. Then the mist closed over the figure again, and it was gone.
‘Wizard Bing!’ Mimi whispered. ‘Oh, Leo, he is there. Moult was right all along!’
Leo swallowed. He felt sick. He wanted to say that the figure in the mist might not be Bing, that it might be some other wizard taken by the Strix in the past. But he didn’t have the heart for it. And he didn’t believe it.
‘Come away,’ Bertha said behind them, and her voice sounded so odd that they both turned to look at her.
Leo was confused by what he saw. Bertha’s eyes were full of pain and her brow was wrinkled. She looked years older. But at the same time there was a strange sort of energy radiating from her. Leo didn’t know what to make of it.
‘Come away,’ Bertha said again, her voice shaking slightly. ‘Wizard Bing has been collected. Moult has gone on to the cloud palace to offer herself in his place, I daresay, but all that will happen is that she’ll be collected too. There’s nothing more we can do here. No more reason to stay. And there’s something I have to do.’
She turned to face the Snug. ‘Come with me,’ she said over her shoulder. ‘We’re going to get the flying rug back – it must have regained consciousness by now – and we’re going to leave this horrible town.’
‘We can’t go yet, Bertha,’ Leo said in bewilderment. ‘Conker and Freda –’
‘I’ll send them a note,’ Bertha cut in. ‘They can explain things to Muffy Clogg if they like. I have to go and I can’t leave you here alone so you’ll have to come with me.’
‘Come where?’ asked Leo in bewilderment. But Bertha just pressed her lips together and began limping across the grass.
Seeing that Mimi didn’t move, Leo took her hand and tugged till she stirred and began to walk, following him mechanically, her eyes on the ground. Clearly she was still terribly shocked by the sight of Wizard Bing trapped in the mists of Tiger’s Glen and by the loss of Moult.
And then there were three, Leo thought, remembering what Moult had said after Freda and Conker left them.
He saw that Bertha was ignoring the clutter on the picnic table, and making straight for the path that led into the Snug.
‘What’s the matter with her?’ he murmured.
Mimi didn’t answer. He doubted she’d even heard him.
Bertha was waiting impatiently at the mouth of the path. ‘Come on,’ she said, the moment they reached her. ‘Be very quiet. We don’t want them to hear us.’
‘Bertha, what’s going on?’ Leo whispered. But Bertha was already moving, and didn’t answer. Sighing with frustration, Leo followed, pulling Mimi along behind him.
The moment they began to hear voices floating from somewhere ahead, Bertha turned off the path and started to creep through the giant trees on the tips of her trotters. Once a twig snapped under Leo’s foot and she looked back warningly. Otherwise, she didn’t hesitate. Head down, she stole forward, bearing towards the right, moving closer to the voices.
‘I do not think you can be quite correct, Mistress Parker.’ Woodley’s precise little voice suddenly sounded very near. ‘The Ancient One collects oddities – oddities, you know.’
Leo saw movement between the tree trunks ahead, and with his next step the edge of a green-and-white spotted tablecloth came into view. He realised that they had almost reached Woodley’s fireplace.
‘And there is nothing unusual about the child Skip,’ Woodley continued. ‘Except perhaps her name, which is most peculiar for a human girl-child. In every other respect she is extremely ordinary.’
‘Then the Terlamaine intended to eat her!’ retorted Bodelia, her dominating tones unmistakeable. Bertha, Leo and Mimi pressed silently forward, and at last the woman herself became visible. A large black handbag over her arm, she was standing glaring down at Woodley, who was sitting in a chair with a knitted blanket draped over his knees and the flying rug, neatly rolled, under his feet.
‘May I quote you on that, Mistress Parker?’ asked another voice.
‘Scribble!’ Bertha breathed. ‘He’s woken up.’ She tiptoed forward till she reached the next giant tree and peered cautiously around its trunk. Leo and Mimi joined her.
Scribble was sitting in a chair next to Woodley, wrapped in a second knitted blanket and with his feet propped up on the other end of the rolled-up rug. He had a bandage around his head and his notebook was in his hand. Standing beside him, drinking tea and eating Princess Pretty tarts, were Bun the baker, Stitch the tailor, Master Sadd and Clogg.
‘We’ll have to wait till some of them leave,’ Bertha whispered. ‘We can’t fight them all. Oh, lawks-a-daisy!’
‘Certainly you may quote me, Master Scribble!’ Bodelia said patronisingly. ‘And please write down also how grateful we are for your heroic rescue of the girl. She may not have understood her danger, but we in Hobnob know only too well what Terlamaines are, and deaths, especially deaths caused by savage beasts, are very bad for the tourist trade.’
‘I only did my duty, Mistress Parker,’ said Scribble virtuously, coming to the end of one page of his notebook and flipping over to the next. ‘Now … Mayor Clogg, you’ll naturally want to comment on the fact t
hat when, after attacking a child and rendering me unconscious, this lone Terlamaine took refuge in the mist surrounding the cloud palace, not one of the villagers present was willing to give chase.’
His pencil poised, he waited expectantly. The people gathered around his chair glanced at one another, and everyone but Stitch shuffled and looked awkward.
‘It wasn’t a matter of not being willing,’ said Clogg defensively. ‘We thought it was too dangerous.’
‘Ah,’ said Scribble, his eyes very bright, ‘but now you know, thanks to Master Woodley here, that the mist surrounding the cloud palace isn’t dangerous at all, don’t you? How does that make you feel, Mayor Clogg? Quite embarrassed, no doubt?’
‘Well, really – I –’ Clogg blustered, sweat breaking out on his broad forehead.
‘It is quite common – quite common, you know for folk to fear the fine mist that always surrounds the Ancient One’s palace,’ Woodley said placidly. ‘But as I said before, the trees have assured me that the mist is just a natural phenomenon caused by the chill of the cloud meeting the warmth of the land. The earth welcoming the sky, as Bliss puts it – the earth welcoming the sky, you know.’
‘Yes, yes,’ drawled Scribble, looking down his nose. ‘Very poetic, I’m sure. So, Master Clogg …’
Leo stopped listening. His mind was filled with one single, terrible thought.
The mist wasn’t dangerous. If they’d acted quickly enough they might have been able to save Moult after all. They might have been able to find her before she reached the palace. Then they could have grabbed her and forced her to return to safety. Even Wizard Bing might have been saved and brought home. Now it was too late.
Leo clung to the bark of the tree, staring sightlessly at the people gathered around Woodley’s fireplace. He didn’t dare turn to look at Mimi. He couldn’t bear to meet her eyes, burning with grief and anger.
I’ll apologise when we’re out of here, he thought. I’ll tell her, ‘Mimi, I thought I was saving you from doing something stupid. I was even angry about always having to bail you out. And all the time you were right. I’m so sorry …’
Yet even as the words formed in Leo’s mind, he knew he could never say them. Because in his heart he was glad, very glad, that he’d stopped Mimi from going into Tiger’s Glen. In the centre of the mist was the palace of the Strix, and Mimi, especially, had to be kept as far from that dread place as possible.
Tye had known that. Tye had warned her.
… you would be wiser not to deny its fascination, Mimi Langlander … If I am in danger from the Ancient One, then so are you.
Chapter
31
Bertha’s Choice
For all we know, those rascally rug thieves are hiding in the mist as well!’ Bodelia snapped, her loud voice breaking into Leo’s thoughts. ‘If you ask me, Clogg, you should raise a search party and flush them all out!’
‘Clogg didn’t ask you, Bodelia, and he has too much sense to do any such thing,’ Stitch said, as Clogg mopped his brow with what appeared to be a knitted handkerchief.
‘Even if there is no danger, Mayor Clogg?’ Scribble asked nastily. ‘May I quote you on that?’
‘But I did not say there was no danger!’ Woodley cried, very ruffled. ‘The mist may not be dangerous in itself, but it would be most unwise to enter it all the same – most unwise, you know. In the past, the phantoms of the Collection have often been seen wandering in its shelter. No doubt they like to feel the earth beneath their feet again, but most folk would not care to meet them.’
Leo’s throat closed as his mind was suddenly filled with a picture of the wizard with agonised eyes staring out at the world beyond the mist – a world forever lost to him. At the same time, he was comforted to think that he had – he really had – done the right thing in stopping Mimi from doing what she wanted to do. Woodley’s next words made him even more certain.
‘And of course there is always the danger of straying too close to the centre – too close, you know, and being drawn into the palace,’ Woodley continued fussily. ‘The lure of the Ancient One is very strong, for some folk in particular.’
‘Well, that settles it,’ Clogg declared. ‘We’re not going anywhere. We’re going to wait right here on this spot till Begood arrives.’
‘Hear, hear,’ said Stitch. He turned to Scribble, his mouth turning down at the corners. ‘I’d also like to say that if the Terlamaine laid a finger on that child, I’m a jam jar! And you can quote me on that!’
Bertha pressed her cheek despairingly against the tree. ‘It’s no good,’ Leo heard her mutter to herself. ‘They’re not going to leave. I can’t get to the rug. And the cloud palace’s over the Gap. All right. All right. I’ll have to go the long way – I’ll walk all night. If I hurry I might still be in time. But first I’ll send him a message. He might not believe it, he might ignore it, but I have to try –’
She broke off as someone hurried directly past the tree, heading for the group surrounding Woodley and Scribble.
‘So there you are, Candy!’ Leo heard Bodelia say loudly. ‘I’ve been quite worried about you. Why, you’ve been home and changed your dress! Isn’t that your best floral? What have you done that for?’
‘Begood’s coming to town,’ Stitch said slyly, and Clogg guffawed.
‘I was hot,’ Candy panted defiantly, coming into view wearing an elaborately frilled gown patterned with purple and yellow pansies. ‘But I’m worse now, because I’ve run all the way here. Mayor Clogg, Mistress Clogg called out the window to ask me to tell you to come home at once. She’s in a shocking state because Tilly went out without saying a word and hasn’t come back.’
‘I always said that girl was a flibbertigibbet,’ said Bodelia, looking down her nose. ‘Her skirts are far too short and she has a very saucy manner. Muffy should never have hired her.’
‘Yes, Bodelia,’ gasped Candy. ‘And Master Bun, Patty caught me as I went by. She says can you please go back to the bakery right now. She’s been having terrible trouble with that cooking pot you found on your doorstep. The moment it woke up it started screaming and crying. Even that fox of yours – Renée – can’t make it stop. It just keeps howling that it’s lost its conkie, whatever that means, and it’s upsetting all the other pans in the kitchen. The last two batches of fairy cakes came out of the oven flat as the sole of your shoe, Patty said. She’s at her wits’ end.’
‘Why didn’t she send me a mouse?’ Bun asked, bewildered.
‘Haven’t you heard?’ said Candy, fanning herself. ‘It’s so lucky we got our message to Officer Begood away when we did. The whole messenger service has gone on strike. It seems that someone tried to bribe a trainee. Someone in Hobnob!’
‘Oh, no!’ Bertha breathed, and went so pale that Leo was afraid she was about to collapse.
‘Bertha!’ he whispered urgently, putting his arm around her. ‘What’s wrong?’
Bertha took a deep, shuddering breath. ‘My friends at the farm,’ she mumbled. ‘The chickens – Violet, Fiona, Eglantine … all the others! They’re in terrible danger. And now I can’t even write to Macdonald to warn him.
Oh!’
She closed her eyes. ‘He used the same trick. The same trick exactly. So friendly. So polite. So efficient. And all the time waiting his chance …’
‘Who are you talking about?’ Leo asked, completely mystified.
‘Sly!’ moaned Bertha. ‘Sylvester – the killer fox who tried to eat Broody. Who ate Bodelia Parker’s parrot. He’s called Sly for short – Moult told us. Don’t you see, Leo? It’s the same fox! It’s Sly – the fox who took my job at Macdonald’s farm!’ She sagged heavily against Leo’s arm.
‘I should have known,’ she wailed softly, as Leo struggled desperately to hold her up. ‘I should have seen it! The fox at the bakery looked so like him … it upset me … I thought I was imagining things. But of course she looks like him. She’s his sister!’
The people at Woodley’s fireplace were talking abou
t the messenger strike. They weren’t paying attention to anything outside their small, noisy circle, but Leo knew that if Bertha fell they’d hear the crash for sure.
‘Today is Sunday,’ Bertha said faintly. ‘Mary and Macdonald always go out on Sunday nights. Tonight Sly will make his move. And there’s nothing I can do. Nothing!’ Her knees began to buckle.
‘Mimi!’ Leo whispered. ‘Help me!’
Mimi didn’t answer. Staggering under Bertha’s weight, Leo twisted his neck to look behind him. There was no one there.
Leo blinked stupidly at the place where Mimi had been. All that remained were the small indentations her feet had made in the soft ground.
He went cold, then blazing hot. He knew what had happened – knew exactly – but he couldn’t believe it. How could she …?
‘Bertha,’ he croaked, digging his fingers into Bertha’s back and shaking her roughly. ‘Bertha, stand up! I’ve got to move! Mimi’s gone. Bertha, please!’
‘Mimi?’ Bertha mumbled. ‘Gone? Not … Spoiler …?’
‘No,’ Leo said grimly. ‘She left alone. I think she’s gone after Moult.’
Bertha shook her head violently. Leo felt her weight shift as she straightened herself and stood upright. He pushed himself away from her, spun round, and started running for the path, not caring how much noise he made.
He could hear Bertha limping after him as he reached the path and pounded along it, but he didn’t slow down until he reached the picnic area.
The field was deserted. Blue butterflies rested motionless on the flowers that matched their wings. Nothing was moving except the mist crawling in Tiger’s Glen.
Panting, Leo went to the table still cluttered with the food from the picnic. He could hear Bertha stumbling from the Snug, but he didn’t look around. Any false hopes he might have had were gone. Now he was certain that Mimi Langlander had crept out of the Snug the moment she’d heard what Woodley had said about the mist surrounding the cloud palace.
