by Jenny Nimmo
"No, you're not, you're Idith," said Dagbert.
This time he had gone too far. "Dagbert Endless, if you don't stop sabotaging my class, I shall have no alternative but to dismiss you."
"OK." Dagbert strode toward the dilapidated planks of wood that served as a door to the so-called classroom.
"Stop!" Mrs. Tilpin commanded.
Dagbert reached the door and glanced back.
Mrs. Tilpin eyed the sullen-looking boy with distaste. He smelled of fish, his face had a greenish hue, and his lank hair reminded her of seaweed. But she needed him.
"I didn't say you WERE dismissed," said Mrs. Tilpin in a slightly wheedling tone. "I'm sure we can get along if we try a little harder. There's something I wanted to show you, in particular, Dagbert."
"Why Dagbert?" asked Joshua.
"Well, all of you," said his mother, and with a dramatic flourish, she reached under the table and produced a gleaming, jewel-framed mirror. Holding it out so that each one of them received an almost blinding flash from its shining surface, she announced, "The Mirror of Amoret."
"It's cracked," Dagbert observed.
"Exactly." Mrs. Tilpin smiled.
"What do you mean, 'exactly'?" asked Dorcas Loom in her monotonous voice.
Mrs. Tilpin wasn't completely without feeling. She felt sorry for Dorcas, with her large pink face and drab, overly permed hair. "Well dear, the reason I'm showing you the mirror is because it's cracked. I thought if we combined our considerable powers, then we might, just might, be able to fix it." She laid the mirror on the table, noting with satisfaction that Dagbert had moved closer.
The three girls leaned eagerly over the table and peered into the silvery glass. Expecting to find themselves reflected in the mirror, they were surprised to see a mist of subtle colors swirling over the surface.
"It's like water," said Inez.
Dagbert stepped closer and looked over Joshua's shoulder.
"Why can't we see ourselves?" asked Dorcas.
"Because you are not there," murmured the witch.
Dagbert directed a skeptical look at her. "We're here," he stated, "so we should be there." He pointed at the mirror.
"Ah. But this is the Mirror of Amoret," said Mrs. Tilpin. "I can see that you don't know the story, Dagbert. I shall enlighten you. Nine hundred years ago, the Red King, whom we in this room acknowledge to be our ancestor, had ..."
"Not the only ancestor," Dagbert pointed out.
"Shhh!" hissed everyone.
Mrs. Tilpin continued as though the interruption had not happened. "Had ten children. Lilith, his eldest daughter, married Harken the Enchanter, and I am descended from their union."
"Phew!" Dagbert whistled.
"Amoret, the king's youngest daughter, married a" - Mrs. Tilpin waved her white fingers in the air - "a giant, I believe."
Dagbert whistled again, but everyone ignored him.
"The king made a mirror for Amoret, a mirror that enabled her to travel. She had only to look into this mirror and think of the person she wished to see, and there she would be, beside them."
At this point Joshua took up the story that by now he knew only too well. "But Amoret died and Count Harken inherited the mirror."
"Really? Inherited the mirror, did he?" Dagbert gave a very slight snort of disbelief.
Mrs. Tilpin's gray eyes flashed. "Yes! Inherited!"
"I wish you wouldn't keep interrupting, Dagbert," Idith complained. "It spoils it for the rest of us."
"SO sorry!" Dagbert shrugged and walked away.
"Wait!" commanded Mrs. Tilpin. "I brought Harken back with this." She grabbed the mirror and held it up.
"But Charlie Bone got it, and we had a fight and I broke it," said Joshua. "And then he found a spell to send the enchanter back into Badlock."
"And there he stays until the mirror can be fixed," continued Mrs. Tilpin. "But we can do it, can't we, children? You and I together, so that Harken can walk among us once again."
They gazed up at the sallow-skinned, beetle-browed woman, who had once been so blond and pleasant-looking. Her hair was now lank and colorless, her eyes ringed with black shadows, even her lips had shrunk to a thin purple line. Is this what happened when you gave in to witchery? wondered the girls.
Dagbert Endless moved restlessly toward the makeshift door. "I drown people," he said. "Don't see how I can fix glass."
"Look!" ordered Mrs. Tilpin, desperately waving the mirror. "Be surprised, Dagbert Endless. Be awed, wonder-struck, amazed."
Dagbert obliged her with a cursory glance at the jewel-framed mirror. And then he looked again. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped. For there, among the constantly shifting shapes and colors, a figure was forming. First a bright emerald tunic, then an olive-skinned, but oddly featureless, face appeared beneath a cloud of golden brown hair. Gradually, in the oval of the face, two dark green eyes emerged; they seemed to be staring directly at Dagbert, and under their fierce, compelling gaze, he found himself moving toward the mirror.
But Mrs. Tilpin's moment of triumph was stolen by an earsplitting crash. The rotten wood of the door suddenly gave way and a small white-haired boy fell into the room. He lay facedown on the shattered panels, and everyone stared at him in astonished silence, until Mrs. Tilpin found her voice.
"Billy Raven!" she screamed. "Spy!"
"Snoop!" cried Joshua.
"Eavesdropping snitch!" said Dorcas.
"Sneak!" shouted the twins.
"How did you find us, Billy?" asked Dagbert, who had shaken himself free of the dark green gaze.
Billy Raven got to his feet, a little awkwardly, and adjusted his glasses. "I was looking for the dog," he said.
"That scabby old Blessed," snorted Joshua.
Mrs. Tilpin laid her mirror very gently on the table and walked over to Billy. "Why are you not staying with Charlie Bone?" she asked in a cold voice.
"He forgot to ask me," sniffed Billy, picking a splinter out of his palm.
"FORGOT," said Mrs. Tilpin. "That's not very nice. I thought he was your friend."
"He is," Billy mumbled, "but sometimes he's busy."
"Aww!" said Dorcas. "Poor Billy."
Billy chewed his lip and darted a furtive look at the table. A vaporous green cloud was rising from the mirror and curling up toward the damp ceiling. Everyone turned to watch it, mouths open and eyes wide.
"What's that?" Billy whispered.
Mrs. Tilpin clasped her hands with a look of ecstasy. "That, Billy Raven, is a message from my ancestor. It seems that you have disappointed him."
"Me?" The chill that ran down Billy's spine had nothing to do with the temperature in Mrs. Tilpin's room. The sight of the green vapor terrified him so much, he even failed to hear the snap of wood as someone stepped over the broken door.
Suddenly, Billy's shoulders were grabbed from behind and the small boy gasped with shock.
"What are you doing here?" Manfred Bloor swung Billy around to face him. "Why aren't you staying with Charlie Bone?"
Billy looked into the cruel black eyes gazing down at him. He had always been mortally afraid of Manfred Bloor; with his bony face and narrow shoulders, he looked more like an old man than a boy of nineteen. His long hair, tied in a ponytail, was already streaked with gray, and his tight black sweater only emphasized his scrawny frame.
"Well?" snarled Manfred.
"He ... he didn't ask," faltered Billy.
"Didn't ask. That's no excuse." Manfred glanced disdainfully at the children seated around the table. Then he noticed Dagbert and he gave a brief half-smile.
All that remained of the green vapor was a thin cloud that clung to the brick ceiling like a mildewy cobweb. Manfred didn't appear to have seen it. "Scram, kids!" he barked. "I want a private word with Mrs. Tilpin."
With a chorus of "Yes, Manfred," Dorcas, the twins, and Joshua gathered up their books and made for the door. Dagbert said nothing, but he followed the others as they stepped over the splintered planks. And then he lo
oked back briefly and murmured. "She wants to let an enchanter loose on the world, what d'you think of that, Manfred?"
"I think it's an excellent idea," Manfred replied, with another of his sinister smiles.
"Really?" Dagbert raised his eyebrows and stepped into the dark hallway.
"You too," said Manfred, addressing the white-haired boy who seemed to be in a trance.
Billy shook himself. He looked around the room, as though he had no idea how he got there, and then walked slowly through the doorway.
"Tell Mr. Weedon to come and fix the door you broke," Mrs. Tilpin called after him.
"Yes," said Billy weakly.
Manfred lifted two of the wooden boards and laid them across the drafty gap. Rubbing his hands free of dust, he came and sat at the table. "Very satisfactory," he said, his wide grin revealing a row of long yellow teeth.
"You're very pleased with yourself," Mrs. Tilpin remarked.
"Oh, I am. Didn't you notice?"
"Notice?" Mrs. Tilpin appeared to be more interested in her mirror than anything Manfred had to say.
"It's coming back!" Manfred gripped the edge of the table and leaned forward. "My endowment, Titania. Remember, you said it would return if I was patient. "Relax," you said. "Try it out occasionally, but don't force it." Well, I've just hypnotized Billy Raven. Didn't you notice?"
"I suppose so." Mrs. Tilpin frowned into her mirror. "He's not happy," she mumbled.
"When those leopards attacked me, I thought I was done for, but it's quite the reverse. I'm stronger than ever." Manfred spread out his long, thin arms.
"I expect it was anger," said Mrs. Tilpin, without taking her eyes from the mirror. "Anger and fear, both powerful agents. They can channel the forces that lie dormant within us."
"Is that so?" Manfred frowned at the mirror. "What's going on, Titania?"
Her gaze still held by the mirror, Mrs. Tilpin said, "He was expecting Billy Raven. And I haven't given you permission to use my first name."
Manfred shrugged. "Apologies, Fairy Tilpin, but it suits you so well."
Mrs. Tilpin grimaced. She had never known how to accept a compliment. "I feel it when he's angry, right here." She jabbed her stomach. "He expected Billy today. When Eustacia Yewbeam took the painting, she assured me that the boy would be with Charlie."
"What's the hurry? We'll make sure the kid sees the painting next Saturday. He'll start talking to the dog and Harken will have him."
"The dog might not last a week," Mrs. Tilpin said sullenly. "Trolls eat dogs, you know."
"Poor doggie."
Mrs. Tilpin stamped her foot. "Don't be smart. Have you forgotten the enchanter is doing this for you? He has promised to hold the boy until that wretched will is found and destroyed. What do you imagine will happen if Lyell Bone returns and remembers where the will is kept? The game will be up, Manfred Bloor. Billy Raven inherits everything, remember. This house, the ancient castle, even the treasures hidden under old Ezekiel's bed."
Manfred lost his smile and a look of icy cunning came across his face. Mrs. Tilpin found herself holding the mirror tight to her chest, as though the green figure swirling in the glass could protect her from the boy's deadly stare.
"Lyell Bone will never return," said Manfred. "We'll see to that."
CHAPTER 5
THE PETS' CAFÉ IS CLOSED
Long after his friends had left, Charlie still wandered the house. Up and down the stairs, in and out of his room, and down into the cellar, where he would stare at Runner Bean's image, at the strands of white hairs in his yellow beard, his shiny black nose, and the reproachful brown eyes that gazed into Charlie's.
"I'm trying to get you out of there, Runner," Charlie would murmur, but try as he might, he couldn't reach the dog trapped in Badlock, a place that might not even exist in the real world. Someone had created a barrier between Charlie and the poor creature he longed to rescue. Charlie had a very good idea who it was, for he met the same impenetrable wall whenever he tried to enter the Red King's portrait.
Uncle Paton had retreated to his room to consider the problem. In his opinion, Billy Raven was the one to unlock the mystery of Runner Bean's incarceration, for there was a chance that the pale, white-haired boy might somehow communicate with the dog in the painting.
But Billy was imprisoned in Bloor's Academy, and there was no likelihood of his being released at this late hour on a Sunday. They would have to wait for next weekend, when Charlie must make sure that Billy came home with him.
"A week might be too long," Charlie declared, thinking of Oddthumb and his partiality for dog meat.
Maisie, her usually cheerful face creased with worry, turned on the kitchen television. "There's nothing we can do for now, Charlie," she said, "so we might as well cheer ourselves up."
Charlie couldn't agree. He was about to go back to the cellar when Grandma Bone came downstairs, dressed up for an evening out with her sisters. Charlie stood by the cellar door, watching the tall figure stride to the front door. Though knowing it would be useless, Charlie couldn't stop himself from calling out to her.
"Grandma! Please, please, do you know why my friend's dog got locked in that painting?"
Grandma Bone hesitated.
Charlie walked toward her. "If you know why it's happened, can you tell me how I can get Runner Bean out of there?"
"I hope you've done your homework," said Grandma Bone. "School tomorrow." She turned the door handle.
"PLEASE, Grandma!" begged Charlie.
Without another word his grandmother opened the front door and swept out, leaving the wind to slam the door behind her.
"Thanks, Grandma!" Charlie muttered.
He had only taken a few steps back to the cellar when the doorbell rang. Had Grandma Bone forgotten her keys? Charlie was tempted to ignore the bell, but it continued to ring in a rather frantic way. Whoever it was, with their finger glued to the bell, they weren't going to give up until someone answered.
Charlie trudged back to the front door. He had hardly turned the handle when a small brown-haired woman in a man's tweed suit and cap burst into the hall. Charlie just about recognized Benjamin's mother, Mrs. Brown.
"Charlie, where's your uncle?" Mrs. Brown demanded.
"He's busy." Charlie knew that Uncle Paton hated to be disturbed at dusk, when all the lights came on. "If it's about Runner ..."
"Of COURSE it is!" cried Mrs. Brown. "What have you done? Benjamin's distraught, inconsolable..."
"I know ... ," Charlie began.
"You don't know, Charlie Bone, or you wouldn't have done it."
"But I..."
"Paton!" Mrs. Brown called up the stairs. "I know you're there. I saw your candle in the window. I MUST speak to you."
A door opened and Uncle Paton appeared at the top of the stairs. "What is it, Patricia?" he said brusquely.
""What is it?" You know very well," said Mrs. Brown. "You've got Benjamin's dog in here, and we want him back."
"He's not exactly in... ," Charlie tried to tell her.
Apparently, Mrs. Brown would rather Charlie didn't exist. "Be quiet," she said. "I'm talking to your uncle. Where is Runner Bean? I want to see him."
"If you insist." Uncle Paton went back to his room and reappeared with a candle. "Kindly refrain from switching on the lights," he said as he descended the staircase.
"I wouldn't dream of it," said Mrs. Brown.
Uncle Paton led her down into the cellar, while Charlie followed a few steps behind. When Mrs. Brown saw Runner Bean's painted image, howling silently out of the nightmarish landscape, she gave a shriek and clasped her face in her hands.
"What happened?" she gasped.
"Benjamin was incoherent. I couldn't make sense of what he told me."
Charlie began to explain, and this time Mrs. Brown allowed him to tell the whole story, or at least Runner Bean's part in it. Charlie omitted most of the details about Badlock and didn't disclose that the man who rescued him was a giant.
"Wha
t are you going to do?" asked Mrs. Brown at last. "How are you going to get our dog out of there?"
"I was hoping you'd help, Patricia," Uncle Paton said wryly. "You being a detective."
"Don't be flippant, Paton," she snapped. "I can't deal with... with all this magic stuff. Oh, sometimes I wish Benjamin and Charlie had never become friends. I shouldn't have let it go on, once I knew that Charlie was... different."
Paton glared at her. "You let their friendship continue because Maisie looks after your son while you're gallivanting around the country disguised as Sherlock Holmes." He walked away from the painting and began to climb the steps. "Come on, Charlie."
Charlie dumbly followed.
"I'm sorry," called Mrs. Brown, scrambling after them. "I shouldn't have said those things. I'm just so worried about Ben."
Maisie popped out of the kitchen. "Would you like some coffee, Irish?" she asked gently.
Mrs. Brown glanced at Paton's stern face. "I... well, yes. That would be nice. If we could discuss things a little more calmly ..."
Maisie had already lit several candles, and the kitchen counters twinkled with a friendly light. A plate of chocolate cookies sat invitingly on the table, and Uncle Paton was persuaded to join Mrs. Brown and Maisie. "Though I prefer cocoa to coffee," he said.
"Me too," Charlie agreed.
The tense atmosphere improved a little, but Mrs. Brown could not seem to rid herself of the worried frown that creased her forehead. "I should be used to it," she said. "I know this city is different from others. I know our houses are built on ancient battlefields, and in places where magic spills out when it's dark. I know things happen that no one can explain, mysteries the police don't even try to solve, evils they dare not acknowledge. And it's daunting sometimes for normal people like Mr. Brown and me - and Benjamin. But something keeps us in this city. I suppose it's because, in spite of everything, we feel there is a great goodness here."
"The Red King," Charlie said quickly. He felt their eyes on him, and self-consciously, he added, "He's still here."
