by H. L. Dennis
Once Gordon reached him, the seated man looked up, surprise written on his face. Gordon cleared his throat nervously before putting the apple cream puff down on the table. ‘Your friend says to tell you they only serve cakes as good as these at the Prince Regent’s home in Brighton.’
Friedman’s brow creased into lines. ‘Excuse me?’
‘Your friend said to tell you they only serve cakes this good at the Prince Regent’s home in Brighton.’
Gordon wondered, after the man rose from the table and ran from the café, whether it would be entirely inappropriate to replace the apple cream puff in the chiller cabinet. The man, after all, had never even touched it.
‘I think we should go on.’ Brodie stood in the doorway to the carriage, her arms keeping the sliding doors separate.
Smithies made his relief obvious with a sigh.
‘I mean it seems a bit mad to give up now.’
Hunter smiled and then winced as his forehead obviously caused him immense pain. ‘So you’re not worried about the government officials who may be chasing us?’ he asked cautiously.
‘Course I am! We may not be fast enough for them. So we must make sure we are.’
Tusia laughed. ‘Nice one, sister.’
‘We must stay focused and determined and whatever happens we must get to the phoenix before they do.’
Hunter clapped his hands. ‘So we’re back in the race then?’
Brodie nodded. ‘We’re back in the race.’ She pulled the carriage doors closed behind her and looked first to Smithies and then to Miss Tandari, who were both beaming broadly. ‘So who’s going to tell us about the Pavilion?’
Miss Tandari did the explaining. Built by the demand of the Prince, the Pavilion looked like an Indian building from the outside, but once inside the decoration was mainly Chinese. According to Miss Tandari, the Prince had never been to either China or India and neither had his architects or builders, but what they created was a palace by the sea which from outside was topped with minarets and domes, and inside was packed with, as Smithies had already told them, statues, pictures and carvings of mythical beasts. ‘Ideal place for a phoenix,’ added Miss Tandari. ‘We just have to use our wits and the original letter from Van der Essen to find it.’
They ran all the way from Brighton station. The town was bustling with people and it seemed odd to Brodie that so many of them walked past the Royal Pavilion without even giving it a second glance, as if it wasn’t really there.
‘Like the scabbard,’ panted Smithies. ‘People just take the building for granted but if you step back and consider, it’s really a remarkable thing.’
The palace was long and surrounded by gardens but not far from the main road. It was a creamy stone colour with high French windows along the side topped with patterned stone fretwork. An Indian castle dropped into an English town. What struck Brodie most were the domes. One huge central dome was ringed with petal-shaped windows like a belt around its middle, and to either side were smaller domes ornately decorated.
‘Not bad for a seaside retreat?’ Smithies smiled, hurrying them towards the main door. ‘Although you can see why many people thought the place was vulgar and over the top.’
Brodie thought it was simply beautiful.
Smithies gathered the group together just outside the main door. ‘Now remember. We’re on a school visit. Researching the Prince. Don’t draw attention to yourself but don’t miss any details – however small. Think about Van der Essen’s letter. We’re looking for
The phoenix of power
In her cloak of elfin Urim
She who is wrongly considered to
Fly lower than the rightful dragon.’
Brodie wrinkled her nose and repeated the phrase in her head. Then she followed the others towards the pavilion entrance.
‘You know, I’ve been thinking about part of the code,’ said Tusia shuffling to the front. ‘The whole flying lower bit. It’s to do with use of space, right. And it must mean the idea phoenixes fly lower than dragons is wrong, if you know what I mean.’
Brodie chewed this over. ‘I guess that’s what it means. Wrongly considered to fly lower and all that. But that’s weird.’
‘Why?’ pressed Hunter.
‘Because in the ancient myths of China there’s a rule,’ she said. ‘I’ve read about it.’
‘What haven’t you read about?’ Hunter jibed before frowning when Smithies glared.
‘In the ancient stories a dragon represents males and the phoenix a female. And in tradition males are more important than females.’
‘Well, it’s hard to argue.’
Now Tusia glared at Hunter and for good measure dug him hard in the ribs. ‘Ancient tradition,’ she said, emphasising her words.
‘Anyway, a dragon should always fly higher than a phoenix. That’s the rule of the story.’
Miss Tandari held her hand up and caused them all to halt. ‘You’re probably right, Brodie. I mean about the legend. But the designers of the Pavilion weren’t really clear on all the rules about China and its traditions. None of them had ever been to Asia and there’s rumour they did all sorts of crazy things like copy Chinese phrases from packing-cases down at the docks instead of checking out what they said.’ She laughed. ‘They literally copied things like “this way up” and “handle with care” and then painted them beautifully in Chinese characters on the walls of this place. They’ll have got things wrong, that’s for sure. They might not have known dragons were supposed to fly higher than firebirds. But they certainly tried to make things look good here, for anyone who didn’t know the rules.’
‘Let’s see how good,’ said Smithies, taking charge of the tickets, and stuffing the offered souvenir guidebook into a large brown paper bag. Miss Tandari led the three of them through an octagonal hallway into the main entrance hall.
‘Look,’ gestured Hunter. ‘There really are dragons everywhere.’ On the wall, either side of a gilt-framed mirror, were raised white panels on which dragons coiled protectively, and in small glass windows high above the doorway olive green dragons were framed by the painted golden rays of the sun.
‘The Prince certainly liked his mythical beasts,’ laughed Smithies.
‘And bright colours,’ added Tusia who’d made her way to the front and was heading out into what the signs told them was the ‘long gallery’. ‘My mum would have a field day in here.’
Brodie tried to take it all in. Pink walls painted with pictures of blue bamboo; statues of Chinese court officials; tiny golden bells hanging all along the top of the wall and great skylights painted with pictures. ‘That’s Lei Gong, the Chinese God of Thunder,’ said Brodie, craning her neck to see more clearly the stained glass of the skylight above her. ‘I think I’ve read in Chinese myth he always had two thunder dragons with him. Look.’
Hunter glanced up. ‘Your obsession with stories may come in handy here.’
There were few other visitors, it being quite late in the afternoon. An elderly woman with a folded pink umbrella was giving an over-wordy lecture to a group of bored-looking tourists. They were bunched round a large mantel clock in the form of Cupid driving through clouds in a chariot, being pulled along by butterflies. Smithies led the way quickly past them, hurrying through the gallery as if mere speed alone would help them find what they looked for. When they came to the banqueting room though, his feet slowed to a stop. Brodie had been impressed by the ballroom at Bletchley. The long gallery in the Pavilion was certainly quite stunning.
But the Banqueting Room was something else.
A long table ran down the centre of the room, groaning under the weight of plates and golden cutlery. On the window side, the room was decked with gold and red curtains topped with figurines of golden dragons. Huge pictures of Chinese art framed with burnt gold hung on the walls and the ceiling arced above them. The rest of the walls were covered with patterned golden paper showing dragons and stars and planets. But it was the chandeliers hung from the ceiling that cau
sed Brodie to wobble a little as she looked. Appearing to fly free beneath a canopy of leaves was an enormous silver and gold dragon. In its claws hung a crystal chandelier so large Brodie was sure it’d be possible for a grown man to hide in the falls of crystal and not be seen. Around the light, six more dragons reared upwards. Each held another light in their mouth, shaped like overlapping tongues of flame.
‘Now that’s surely what you call elfin Urim,’ said Tusia. ‘Amazing use of the space in here.’
It was a while before Brodie tore her gaze away from the central light and looked around the rest of the room. It was then she saw them.
Suspended in the four corners of the massive hall were four more spectacular lights, each hanging from a glittering star of crystal and gold. Yet above each star, carrying the light on a silver collar tight around her neck, tail spread in flight and wings wide, was a golden phoenix.
Brodie could barely speak. ‘Look. Look.’ She jabbed at Hunter’s arm and he switched his gaze from the central chandelier to the edge of the room. ‘Do you see?’ she said. ‘A firebird in flight.’
She looked back at the dragon chandelier weighed down by the crystal and the gold. Then back at the firebirds as they flew high towards the ceiling, their outstretched beaks almost touching the painted canopy above them.
Suddenly she was aware of someone twitching excitedly beside her.
‘It’s wrong,’ Tusia yelped. ‘The lights are wrong.’
The others gathered closer. Brodie was just getting herself ready to deflect Tusia’s moaning about the amount of money which had obviously been splashed around to pay for the amazing chandeliers. Surely even Tusia understood princes were allowed to spend money.
‘I mean the position of the light is wrong.’
‘You think there’s a better way to hang chandeliers other than from the ceiling?’ said Hunter quizzically.
‘It’s what I said about “flying lower”. Remember? When we were just coming in and we talked about how the designers might have got things wrong.’
‘And B was going on about her story and boys being more important than girls.’
Brodie knew Hunter was teasing but she was too intrigued to let him get to her.
‘Yes, Brodie was going on about a story. And the story said the dragon has to fly higher than the phoenix. She said that was the rule of the story. And in here …’ Tusia pointed up again at the impressive chandeliers. ‘Here the phoenixes are flying higher.’
‘And?’ mumbled Hunter.
‘So the clue said she who is wrongly considered to fly lower than the rightful dragon. We said it’s talking about where the dragon and the phoenix fly.’
‘And?’
‘And in here the dragon isn’t right. You see? It’s a play on words. The rightful dragon isn’t right. It’s too low down and the phoenix is too high.’
‘You think the light’s connected to the clue?’ said Hunter.
‘It could be. I mean, it’s a mistake, the position of the lights.’ Tusia turned to face Miss Tandari. ‘You said the designers of the Pavilion hadn’t been to India or China. They might’ve included pictures and ideas from the myths they heard and not quite got the details right. But Van der Essen. He was a myth master. You told us that. He was a specialist in ancient stories and so he’d have known the lights in this room were wrong.’
‘And so,’ cut in Brodie, catching Tusia’s train of thought, ‘perhaps he wanted us to see the light and connect it to the clue.’
‘OK,’ said Hunter. ‘So we make the connection. Now what?’
Brodie bit the inside of her lip. She tried to take the jumble of ideas bouncing in her head and line them up. ‘The “phoenix” we seek is somewhere in the Pavilion. And if we follow the clue from these lights then it’s high up. Above the dragons? Somewhere it shouldn’t be.’
‘Exactly!’ Tusia couldn’t have looked more relieved.
‘You think Van der Essen hid whatever we’re looking for in one of the phoenix chandeliers?’ asked Hunter.
Brodie didn’t. ‘It’s got to be safe and hidden but not somewhere people are going to look just by chance. But, it’s got to be higher than all the dragons we see.’
‘But there are dragons painted all over the place. You think the phoenix has got to be higher than all of them?’ Hunter asked, visibly bracing himself for another jab in the ribs.
Brodie wasn’t sure. It was a guess. But the position of the phoenix lights flying higher than the dragon made the guess seem sensible.
‘So where in this place is higher than all the dragons?’ said Tandi.
‘The sky itself ?’ said Hunter, who was obviously struggling to stick with the idea.
‘Well,’ began Tusia, who’d been busy flicking through the Pavilion guidebook, ‘what about in a room with a picture of the sky painted on the ceiling?’
‘Yes,’ answered Smithies, who was still looking at the chandeliers and had missed Tusia’s hunt through the guidebook. ‘If only we knew if there was such a room.’
Tusia flapped the open book in front of him. ‘There is, look,’ she said. ‘The saloon.’
Tusia was right. The ceiling of the saloon was domed and high and on its surface were painted swirling clouds against a cotton blue. A floor-to-ceiling gilt-edged mirror reflected back the many painted silk hangings which lined the walls, on top of silvered wallpaper. The room was round and crowded with furniture, an oval table supported by golden dolphins and several chairs covered with green buttoned satin.
‘In here then,’ Smithies said frantically. ‘You think the Professor hid the phoenix here in a room with a painted sky?’
Brodie looked around. ‘Maybe?’ she said desperately.
A guard sitting in the corner on an upright wooden chair nodded acknowledgement to them and, as if in an attempt to cover for their rather rushed entry to the room, Smithies smiled and engaged him in conversation. ‘Nice room,’ he said. ‘Very nice ceiling.’
The guard smiled knowledgeably. ‘Certainly is, sir.’ He stood up and puffed out his chest. ‘This room was the centre of the original design of the Pavilion when it was merely called the Marine Pavilion.’
‘Yes, fascinating,’ snapped Smithies, in a way suggesting it was anything but.
His impatience seemed to be lost on the guard, who’d obviously had little chance to share his information with anybody yet that day and needed to demonstrate his knowledge.
‘See, not many people know you’re standing now underneath the very central dome of the Pavilion.’ He glanced up at the sky pattern above him in such a way as to suggest he was responsible for placing the huge dome structure there himself.
‘And we can go up into this domed room then?’ asked Smithies, a look of concentration stretching across his face.
The guard paced back and forth in front of the fireplace. ‘No, sir. There’s no room in the dome of the Pavilion.’
Brodie stepped forward. ‘But I saw windows in the dome when I was outside.’
‘An observant one you’ve got yourself there,’ smiled the guard. ‘Not a lot of people notice that. Or even ask.’
‘So was there a room then, once?’ asked Tusia.
The guard was warming to his audience. ‘Story goes there was to be a terraced room up there. The most splendid room in all the palace.’
‘But there never was?’
The guard shook his head. ‘Our Prince was a one for the good things in life. By the time he was King he weighed twenty-three stone!’ He drew in a breath in a dramatic whistle. ‘He was so large he took to wearing corsets on his thighs as well as his stomach and without his corset, his belly reached down to his knees.’
Brodie was just trying to rid her mind of such a revolting image when Smithies spoke again. ‘And the relevance of this detail is what exactly?’
‘Well, because the King became so large, going upstairs became impossible for him. So the room in the dome of the building never got finished. Not proper like.’
A thou
ght was formulating in Brodie’s mind. Half formed at the moment like a wisp of cloud. ‘So there’s a half-finished room above this false sky?’ she said.
The guard’s radio began to crackle and he drew it from his belt holster like a cowboy drawing a gun and began to fiddle with the knobs on the top. The crackling continued unabated and a woman’s voice blared out.
‘And this room? Or half-room?’ Miss Tandari asked anxiously. ‘How’d you get up there? If you could.’
The guard hesitated, distracted by his radio. ‘Well, not a lot of people know there’s a fair bit of this pavilion that’s hidden. Kept from view, you see. Servant’s corridors, tunnels. And …’ The female screeched over the airwaves again. ‘Sorry. If you just let me take this.’
Brodie looked frantically at Smithies as the guard lifted the radio to his ear. The female voice continued.
‘Please. If you don’t mind,’ said Smithies, his eyes now so wide Brodie was sure they’d tumble from their sockets. ‘We’d reach this half-finished room how exactly?’
The guard lowered his radio. ‘Stairs,’ he said. ‘Hidden stairs.’
‘Brilliant!’ yelped Tusia, who then stuffed her hand into her mouth in an attempt to look more discreet.
The group turned and was hurrying from the saloon when the guard called to them. ‘My radio,’ he said, ‘front desk just called me on my radio, so as I could let you know the other teacher from your school has just arrived.’
Brodie’s blood seemed to run like cold water through her body.
A vein on Smithies’ forehead began to pulse.
Hunter let out a quiet moan.
‘Front desk says Miss Vernan is glad you managed to make it down here so quickly.’ Smithies eyes darkened as the guard added, ‘And she’s brought some friends and they’re looking forward to catching up with you.’
