by Jenny Nimmo
Venetia's house, on the right, looked in better condition than the other two. Since the fire in her house a year ago, the slates on the steep, sloping roof had been replaced and her front door had been freshly painted.
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At the top of the steps stood a squat stone troll. Charlie kept an eye on it as he passed. Eric liked to animate the thing, and Charlie didn't want to be knocked flat before his interrogation began.
Venetia unlocked the door and led the way into a dark hall. It had a pungent, bitter smell. A huge gold-framed mirror, hanging on one side, reflected the long coatrack on the other. The rack was filled with garments of every size and description, and Charlie didn't need reminding that Venetia could bewitch her victims with clothing. The collars and cuffs, buttons and belts of these exotic-looking outfits were, in all probability, impregnated with poison. Charlie gave a shudder and kept as far away from them as possible.
They walked in single file down a long corridor beside the staircase. Venetia led the way, followed by Charlie, who was prodded in the back by Grandma Bone's sharp nails every time he hesitated.
Charlie had never been inside any of the three number thirteens. He had looked through their windows
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and, secretly, crept into their back gardens, but none of his great-aunts had ever asked him into their home. And Charlie had certainly never wanted an invitation.
"Here we are!" Venetia opened a door on the left of the hallway, and Grandma Bone pushed Charlie into a large, gloomy room. An oval table stood in the center, and huge glass-fronted cabinets filled the entire wall opposite the door. Charlie gave an involuntary gasp when he saw the figure standing in the bay window.
Manfred Bloor wore an expression of malicious amusement. "Didn't expect this, did you, Charlie?" he said.
So that's why they brought me here, thought Charlie. They needed Manfred's help. And he wondered how often Manfred visited the Yewbeams. Grandma Bone was prodding him again. His back probably resembled a Dalmatian's by now, with all those black bruises. In spite of his precarious situation, Charlie couldn't help grinning.
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"What are you smiling at?" Manfred asked coldly.
"It's not a smile, actually," said Charlie. "It's a wince."
Having prodded her grandson into a chair at the table, Grandma Bone and her sisters began arguing over the seating arrangements. Eustacia was going to be working, therefore her needs were a priority. So Charlie found himself sitting opposite Manfred and beside Eustacia, who was at the head of the table with her back to the window. Grandma Bone sat on Charlie's other side, with Venetia directly opposite. Lucretia didn't sit, because she hadn't gotten the chair she wanted. She stood by the glass cabinet, regarding the shelves of labeled bottles and talking to herself.
"Where's Eric?" asked Charlie, hoping to delay the proceedings.
A forlorn hope.
"He's outside," snapped Venetia.
Charlie craned sideways, tipping his chair, and
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looked down into the lamplit garden. What he saw there gave him another shock.
Lumbering between bushes of bright winter berries were stone figures, pale as ghosts: hideous beings carrying stone clubs, knights in armor, horses, goblins, trolls, and massive dogs all moving in slow deliberate steps. And there was Eric, sitting on a stone head, a small, skinny boy with a sickly color. His head twisted this way and that, and his right hand swung back and forth across his body, as though he were orchestrating the movements of an army.
"Sit up!" Eustacia ordered, and Charlie lurched back, almost tipping his chair too far in the other direction.
"Impressive, eh?" said Manfred with a smile. "Our little Eric's coming on a treat."
Charlie didn't bother to reply. Manfred's black eyes held a chilling shine, and Charlie knew that all the will his mind possessed must be used in the next few minutes.
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He lifted his gaze to the top shelf of the cabinet and started counting bottles.
"Look at me," Manfred demanded.
Charlie kept his eyes on the row of dark bottles: green, red, brown, and blue. How many fatal potions did Venetia keep? One, two, three...
"Look at me." Manfred's voice had taken on a fatal silkiness. Try as he might, Charlie couldn't resist it. He found his gaze drifting down to Manfred again, and he remembered the first time that Manfred had tried to hypnotize him. Charlie had fought him then. He had looked into the treacherous black eyes and then into the mind behind them.
Charlie met Manfred's gaze. He looked at him steadily and tried to read his thoughts.
"Stop that!" said Manfred.
"What?" said Charlie.
"You're trying to block me. Well, you won't get away with it this time." Manfred leaned across the table. His face came closer and closer. So close that Charlie could see the deadly glitter at the center of
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those dark eyes. He felt as though he were falling into them. All he wanted was to escape, to close his eyes, to sleep. Desperately, he tried to avoid the images that crowded into his head. I mustn't, I mustn't, he thought. But it was no use. He saw the boat Greywing. He saw the heaving foamy sea and a night sky crammed with stars.
"What does he see?" Grandma Bone's voice was very faint.
Eustacia's answer was even fainter. "A boat called Greywing... sunrise... whales calling ... a night sky, but... aha... the constellations are upside down."
The voice droned on and on, and Charlie was powerless. He could neither move nor open his eyes. They were asking him another question now. A question he couldn't answer.
"Who is the Red Knight, Charlie?"
"I don't know."
"We think you do."
"No."
"Who is he?"
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"The Red King."
"Not true. Concentrate, Charlie."
Charlie's head drooped. He tried to lift it, but it was too heavy. He found himself thinking of the stranger that came to Gabriel's moonlit yard, the stranger in a dark, heavy coat who carried the Red King's cloak away. Did Charlie know anyone who wore a coat like this? No. No one, except... except... Manfred's grandfather Bartholomew Bloor. He was utterly different from the other Bloors. He had even helped Charlie to find his father. Before Charlie could prevent it, an image came into his mind. The last time he had seen Bartholomew Bloor, he had been wearing a similar dark blue, thick coat.
Eustacia's muffled voice said, "Aha!"
A loud bark broke into Charlie's thoughts. He raised his head. The dog must have been at the front of the house, but its bark came ringing down the hall. Charlie didn't know that Benjamin had lifted
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the flap on the letterbox, and Runner Bean was barking right through it.
Charlie's eyes flew open. Manfred had straightened up, but Eustacia sat in a confused silence, gazing at the table.
"Snap out of it, Stace!" Grandma Bone clicked her fingers close to Eustacia's nose, and Eustacia frowned up at her. "Well done, we got what we wanted."
"There's more," mumbled Eustacia.
"And there's a stupid dog at the door," shouted Venetia. "We'll have to deal with it." She rushed out, followed by Lucretia and Grandma Bone.
"I think Eric's already dealing with it," Manfred said easily.
Charlie leaped up and ran blindly toward the front door. He had to blink several times before he could focus properly, but when the hypnotic haze had lifted he saw that Eric was standing in the open doorway with Venetia at his side.
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There was a loud thump and then another. Someone screamed and a dog howled. When Charlie had pushed his way past Venetia, he saw Benjamin, Runner Bean, and Olivia trying to dodge the stone gargoyles that came flying at them from the wall. Eric was enjoying himself. He gave a little jump for joy every time a gargoyle came loose and crashed onto the pavement.
"That's enough, Eric," said Venetia. "You'll ruin the house."
"Charlie, get out of there!"
cried Olivia.
Charlie was already bounding down the steps. "Run, Liv! I'm right behind you!" he shouted.
A stone gargoyle came flying after him and caught his heel. Runner Bean bounced around him, barking furiously.
"Eric, enough!" Venetia commanded.
"Let's get out of here!" yelled Benjamin. "Runner! Here, boy! Quick!"
The four children raced away from the three number thirteens.
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If they had all kept running they would have escaped with a few bruises, but then something happened. And for one of them, nothing would ever be quite the same again.
Olivia suddenly turned around. She picked up the headless body of a broken gargoyle and was about to throw it back at Eric when, horribly, it stretched out a puny arm and grabbed her wrist. Olivia let out a shriek that brought the boys to a skidding halt. They ran to help her, tugging at the squirming stone body, pulling its legs and trying to pry the rigid fingers away from Olivia's wrist. Eric began to laugh.
All four sisters had now crowded onto the top step behind Eric. Venetia was laughing. Eustacia and Lucretia joined her and then, in spite of herself, Grandma Bone gave in to a bout of loud, undignified
giggling-Olivia glared up at Eric and the four women. She wondered what would frighten them. What would
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wipe the silly grins off their faces and stop their spiteful giggling. She imagined a tall skeleton in a black hat and cloak, wielding a six-foot saber.
And there he was! Standing in front of the steps, his saber lifted to strike.
Laughter turned to screams of horror. Eric and the sisters disappeared, slamming the door behind them.
"Oh, Liv! Why did you do that?" asked Charlie.
"I couldn't help it," Olivia replied as the headless gargoyle relaxed its grip and dropped to the ground. "Anyway, it did the trick. Eric obviously loses concentration when he's scared."
"It was pretty impressive -- that thing!" Benjamin was disappointed to see the skeleton slowly fading. He gave Runner Bean a reassuring pat, as the dog's legs were still trembling. "It was only an illusion, Runner."
They hurried out of Darkly Wynd, Charlie throwing worried looks in Olivia's direction. She had betrayed herself. The Bloors had no idea that she was endowed,
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but as soon as the Yewbeam sisters had recovered from their shock, they would know. And they would certainly pass on the news.
Olivia ignored Charlie for a while. She deliberately refused to meet his eye, but at last she cried, "Stop looking at me like that, Charlie. We rescued you!"
"But you gave yourself away, Liv!" said Charlie. "My grandma and her sisters will know you conjured up that skeleton and they'll tell everyone. And then what?"
"Then what?" Olivia mimicked Charlie. "We'll see, won't we?" She rubbed her wrist where the gargoyle had left ugly marks on her skin.
"Sorry," said Charlie, feeling guilty. "And thank you for rescuing me. How did that happen, anyway?"
Benjamin explained that he had gone to number nine and found Maisie in a "bit of a state," as he put it. She'd found the note from Grandma Bone, but she didn't like to think of Charlie in one of the Darkly Wynd houses. So Benjamin had offered to
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come and find Charlie. "With Runner Bean, of course," Benjamin added. "I wouldn't have come without him. And then I met Olivia on her way to the bookstore, and she said she'd come, too. Safety in numbers kind of thing."
"Thanks," said Charlie. "Sorry I barked at you, Liv."
"I should think so!" She tossed her bleached hair and grinned.
"Manfred was there," Charlie said quietly. "He hypnotized me."
Olivia and Benjamin stopped. They stared at Charlie until he felt quite uncomfortable.
"The trouble is, I don't know if I told them anything I shouldn't have. I tried not to, but I can't remember." He stroked Runner Bean's shaggy head. "Runner Bean woke me up."
They had reached the top of Filbert Street, and Charlie was relieved to see Uncle Paton's camper van parked outside number nine.
Olivia, Benjamin, and Runner Bean followed Charlie into the house, where they found Maisie
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and Uncle Paton enjoying a candlelit meal of salmon pie and chips. There was plenty for all, and while everyone dug in, Charlie recounted his day, reliving his escape from Amos Byrne with such dramatic gestures he twice sent the pepper pot flying off the table.
"Good grief!" cried Maisie. "Your hair's all singed, Charlie. I thought I could smell burning. You mustn't run off without telling me where you're going. You could have been ... oh, I can't bear to think of it."
Uncle Paton nodded. Although his expression was very grave, and although he made all the right exclamations of horror and concern, Charlie sensed that something else was troubling his uncle. He did not seem to be wholly engaged with the conversation around the table. His gaze kept drifting away from them.
"Uncle Paton, where have you been?" asked Charlie.
His uncle regarded him thoughtfully. It was as though he'd had to drag his mind back from somewhere far away.
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"Where I have been doesn't matter, for now," he said. "But tell me, did my sisters question you about the Red Knight?"
Charlie's mind had cleared a little. The troubling hypnotic haze was lifting. "Yes, they did ask about the knight, and although I didn't put it into words, I remember thinking that he might be Bartholomew Bloor."
"Bartholomew?" Uncle Paton looked incredulous.
"Wow! That's fascinating." Olivia cupped her chin in her hands. She wore an interesting pair of mittens threaded with gold and silver ribbons. "I hope you didn't tell them about Tancred," she said.
Charlie shook his head. "Don't think so. No. They didn't get around to asking about Tancred."
"Phew! That's good." Olivia raised her head and clasped her mittened hands together. "He's still safe, then."
"Yes. But you're not, Liv," said Charlie.
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8. THE SEA GLOBE
The huge Sea Globe now stood in the center of the ballroom. The white covering had been removed, but the globe was enclosed in a large glass box. Behind the glass, blue-green water could be seen rippling over the surface of a glowing sphere. It was the world, mapped out in oceans and continents. The land appeared a dull brown color, while the water glowed with countless shades of blue and green, gray and silver.
The ballroom lights were out, but the chandelier above the globe reflected the sea green radiance of the waves, and beams of brilliant light spilled out into the room. All that could be heard was the faint swish of waves and the low murmur of the world's vast oceans.
Lord Grimwald stood before his treasure, and his stern features softened as his gaze swept over the oceans -- north to the Arctic, two feet above him,
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then down through the Atlantic to Antarctica and up again through the Pacific.
"So much sea," he murmured and the smile that crept into his face made him appear almost amiable. If Lord Grimwald had a heart, then it was held in the glowing sphere before him. He loved it above everything else. Alone on his rocky island, with only the globe for company, he was happy. Sometimes the memory of his wife's gentle singing caused him to look down into the waves, where she had drowned in a net, crushed by a ton of fish. And then he would think of the gold charms she had made for their son, so that he should survive the curse that lay upon their family.
It was regrettable, Lord Grimwald reflected, that if he was to live on, he must destroy his only son, now that Dagbert was twelve years old. He had proved to be a talented drowner and would no doubt become a powerful Lord of the Oceans, if he survived.
The reason for the Grimwald family curse had been lost through time. But it was as strong as it had ever been.
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When Lord Grimwald was twelve he had caused his own father's death, and for his father it had been the same. But, occasionally, a father had survived a son, and the present
Lord of the Oceans didn't intend to die for a long time yet.
He'll hide those charms, that son of mine, but I will find them. Lord Grimwald laughed out loud. He had a plan that involved Mrs. Tilpin's son, Joshua. The Magnet. He hoped the boy was up to the task.
The Lord of the Oceans put a scaly hand against the glass, and a white plume of water rose beneath his fingers. When it fell back, bright circles rippled away from it across the ocean, like the ripples in a pond. Only these foamy circles would appear on the real ocean as a mountain of water. Lord Grimwald was so entranced by his work, he didn't hear Manfred come into the ballroom.
"So this is the Sea Globe!" said Manfred in an awestruck voice. "It is" -- he stretched out his hand -- "so vast!"
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Lord Grimwald turned, almost guiltily, as though caught in the act of admiring himself in a mirror. "The Sea Globe, yes. I'm pleased that it has traveled so well, despite its size. Not a wave, not an ocean out of place."
Manfred leaned close to the glass. "It defies gravity," he said with a frown. "Why does the water not tumble to the ground? How can it possibly rise like that? The waves" -- he leaned even closer -- "some of them are rolling upward."
Lord Grimwald smiled with satisfaction. "It is what it is. And has always been so. I know nothing of its history. My father told me once that an ancestor in the distant past was endowed with magnetism. He attracted water, if you like. He gathered it into his arms, out of the Northern Sea, and lo and behold, a sphere of water grew out of his gatherings, dotted about with parcels of land."
