by D D Everest
Gideon is as sane as you or I. Someone wanted him out of the way. You must tread carefully. With Hawke gone, the museum is no longer safe for you and your friends. The enemy has spies inside the museum and at the Royal Society.
The Dark Flame is rising. The fate of magic is at stake. I will help you if I can, but you must help yourselves now.
FG
Archie stared at the message. Once again it was signed FG with a picture of a raven. Whoever had sent it obviously knew all about Grey’s secret laboratory and about the Alchemists’ Club. Archie wondered again if it could be Fabian Grey himself trying to help them.
When the others arrived he showed them the note and Arabella echoed his thoughts.
‘I know this sounds ridiculous,’ she said, ‘but could it be Fabian Grey? Is it possible that he’s still alive after more than three hundred and fifty years?’
‘Grey would know about the laboratory, so that part makes sense,’ reasoned Thistle. ‘But realistically my money is on Faustus Gaunt. The messages started at about the same time that he arrived at the museum.’
‘But why all the secrecy?’ asked Archie.
‘Perhaps he thinks he’s being watched?’ said Thistle.
‘We have to get a message to Rupert,’ said Bramble. ‘We need to warn him. He may not be safe at the Royal Society.’
But as it turned out, Rupert was trying to get a message to them.
*
The next day, Archie was in Hawke’s study tidying up when he noticed that the oculus was glowing with an eerie orange light. Approaching the desk, he peered into the glass orb. He was surprised to see Rupert’s earnest face looking back at him. His hair was standing up and he looked a little more dishevelled than usual.
‘Hello, is that you, Archie?’
‘Yes, it’s me,’ said Archie. ‘But how did you know I’d be here?’
‘I didn’t,’ said Rupert, smiling. ‘I heard what happened to Hawke. Everyone at the Royal Society is talking about it. I needed to get hold of you so I thought I’d take a chance.’
‘Well, it worked. But we can’t talk for long – someone could be listening on one of the other oculuses.’
‘Oculi,’ said Rupert. ‘When there’s more than one oculus, the plural is oculi.’
Archie smiled. ‘Well, someone could be listening on the other oculi. So what did you want to tell me?’
‘Yeah, right, good point,’ said Rupert, glancing over his shoulder. ‘Well, the thing is, I think there’s something going on here at the Royal Society. The other day Gloom hinted that the stolen book wasn’t the only secret kept here.’
Archie felt his curiosity growing. ‘What do you mean? What kind of secrets?’
Archie saw Rupert glance over his shoulder again as if he was worried he might be overheard. Then he leaned in closer so that the glass magnified his features, making his nose look big and his lips seem extra thick.
‘I think there’s a secret library hidden inside the Royal Society,’ he whispered. ‘There’s a reading room here with one door and no windows, and the other day I saw Gloom go into it, but when I followed him he wasn’t there. He’d vanished.’
‘He can’t have vanished,’ said Archie, his eyes wide. He remembered now that Gloom had mentioned some other books being kept at the Royal Society when he’d overheard him talking to Hawke.
‘That’s what I thought,’ said Rupert, ‘but he definitely wasn’t in the room. He reappeared a little while later carrying an old book under his arm. My guess is that there’s a secret entrance into another room. And that’s where The Book of Night was being kept.’
Archie was catching on fast. ‘So there could be other secrets stored in there as well,’ he said. ‘Morag Pandrama said there were other magical archives as well as the one at the museum. Perhaps the secret library at the Royal Society contains the book in which Fabian Grey wrote down what he saw?’
‘The only way we’re going to know is if we can get in there and have a look for ourselves,’ said Rupert.
Archie’s brain was working overtime. The latest note from FG had warned them about spies inside the Royal Society. Hawke had had his suspicions, too. It was time to find out what was really going on at the Royal Society, he’d said. That was what he was planning to do after he’d visited Katerina in the asylum. But he never got the chance.
‘Can you get us inside the Royal Society?’ asked Archie.
Rupert nodded. ‘Yes, that’s actually easy enough. But then what, once you’re inside?’
‘If you can get us into the reading room, then we can use Thistle’s curiosity compass to locate the secret entrance. If there are magic books concealed there, the compass will pick up on their power.’
Rupert ran his hand through his hair. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘I’ll find a way. Can you come down to London tomorrow night?’
Archie nodded. ‘We’ll be there,’ he said. He had another thought. He realised he didn’t actually know where in London the Royal Society was. ‘You’d better tell us where the entrance is.’
‘Oh, that’s easy,’ said Rupert. ‘It’s opposite the British Museum in Great Russell Street. There’s an antiquarian bookshop called the Inkwell. The entrance to the Royal Society is inside the bookshop. Just tell Matilda the password.’
Archie raised his eyebrows. ‘Password?’
‘Oh, don’t worry, it’s easy. It’ll be written on the blackboard. And make sure you come at seven because everyone will be at dinner so we’ll have the place to ourselves.’
Archie grinned. ‘Good, that’s a plan then. I can’t wait to tell the others. And Rupert …’
Rupert’s chiselled features peered back at him from the oculus. ‘What?’
‘Be careful,’ said Archie. ‘There are spies inside the Royal Society. If they find out you’re spying on them it could be dangerous for you.’
‘Spying on the spies, eh?’ grinned Rupert. ‘Don’t worry, they won’t suspect a thing. I’m too careful for that.’
Archie hoped Rupert was right. But he knew that his friend had already taken a big risk by contacting him with the oculus. Perhaps he’d be more careful from now on.
*
When Archie told his cousins about the plan to go to the Royal Society they were as excited as he was. Bramble and Thistle both agreed that if there was a secret library there then they had to investigate. But Arabella had reservations.
‘What if we get caught breaking into the Royal Society?’ she said. ‘We could get expelled from the museum and have our apprenticeships revoked.’
‘It’s a risk we have to take,’ said Archie. ‘Time is running out – and besides, we’re not breaking in, we’re visiting Rupert. But first there’s something we need to do in the archive.’
*
Archie approached the glass case containing the Torchstones. Bramble and Arabella were just behind him. Thistle was acting as lookout by the door.
‘I’ve never seen them before,’ said Bramble, looking over Archie’s shoulder. ‘They’re beautiful!’
Archie opened the case and carefully grasped one of the golden orbs. It was cold to his touch. He could feel its magical energy sending a tingling sensation up his arm. The two protective bands of silver gleamed in the light from the overhead lanterns.
‘What happens if someone realises there’s one missing?’ asked Arabella, gazing at the Torchstone in his hand.
Archie shrugged. ‘The only people who come in here are Hawke, Gaunt and Pandrama,’ he said. ‘Hawke’s locked up in the asylum and I think he would approve anyway, and the other two are far too interested in the texts to notice.’
‘What about Rusp?’ asked Thistle. ‘You said he has been helping out. He has it in for you. He’d love to get you into trouble.’
‘That’s true,’ said Archie. ‘But it’s a chance I’ll have to take. As long as he doesn’t catch us redhanded. Now, come on.’
He slipped the Torchstone into his pocket and headed back towards the door followed by Arabella. Bramble wa
s still gazing at the second Torchstone in the case.
‘Hurry up, Bram!’ urged Archie over his shoulder. ‘We don’t want to be caught in the act.’
‘I’m right behind you,’ called Bramble. ‘We can’t afford to leave any obvious clues that Rusp might notice.’
Archie opened the door and the two boys and Arabella slipped out.
Bramble appeared a moment later.
‘All done,’ she said, smiling.
‘Good, now let’s get to the Word Smithy.’
*
When they reached the Aisle of White, the bookshop was closed up for the night. Archie let them in with his key and they made their way down to the mending workshop.
Old Zeb used a glove when handling the Word Smithy. It was on the bench so Archie slipped it on and opened the door. The Flame of Pharos was burning low.
‘It doesn’t look very healthy,’ said Bramble, peering into the furnace.
‘I know. It’s been like that for a while,’ said Archie. ‘Even more reason to activate the Torchstone.’
He held the egg-shaped object between the thumb and forefinger, as Hawke had done, and gently squeezed. The case sprang open to reveal the hidden chamber within. Bramble gasped with delight.
Archie reached inside the Word Smithy with his gloved hand and took out a glowing ember. Very carefully he tipped the embers into the hollow compartment. Then he recited the spell engraved on the silver casing.
‘I carry the flame
To light the dark
Let shadows flee
My sacred spark.’
As he did, the two halves of the Torchstone snapped shut. It felt suddenly warm in his hand and the amber-coloured crystal gave off a golden glow.
All four of them gazed at it for a moment and then Archie slipped it back into his pocket where it nestled warmly against his leg.
‘Right, let’s get of here,’ he said.
Arabella moved to open the door to the workshop and she and Thistle stepped out into the passageway.
Bramble was still staring at the Flame of Pharos in the Word Smithy.
‘Come on,’ said Archie. He was used to seeing the Flame every day. But he knew how mesmerising it was to watch. He took off the glove and gave it to Bramble.
‘Don’t forget to close the furnace,’ he said gently.
17
The Royal Society
The following day, Archie, Bramble, Thistle and Arabella went to the museum as usual. No announcement had been made about who was taking over from Gideon Hawke in Lost Books so Archie didn’t have much to do.
He tidied Hawke’s office again, but the room remained stubbornly messy. It was almost as if there was an anti-tidy spell on it. That would have been just like Hawke, Archie thought, and he smiled at the idea. He wondered how the former head of Lost Books was getting on at the asylum. For all its clutter, the office seemed empty without him.
Archie moped around the rest of the day, staying out of the way of Pandrama and Gaunt, and especially Rusp, who were still poring over the old texts. He was relieved that none of them noticed that one of the Torchstones was missing.
At five, Archie met up with his two cousins and Arabella, and they made their way to Oxford train station to catch the five-thirty to Paddington station in London. From there they caught the tube to Holborn and walked the short distance to Great Russell Street.
Ahead of them, on the right, they could see a huge building set back into a large courtyard.
‘That’s the British Museum,’ said Archie. ‘The bookshop is up here somewhere on the left,’ he added, indicating a row of buildings on the other side of the road. ‘We just have to find it.’
‘What’s the name again?’ asked Thistle.
‘The Inkwell,’ replied Archie. ‘Rupert said we have to tell Matilda the password. It’ll be written on a blackboard.’
‘Not much of a password then!’ said Bramble. ‘Who’s Matilda anyway?’
Archie shrugged. ‘No idea, but I’m sure it will all make sense when we get there.’
‘I hope so,’ said Arabella. ‘Otherwise we’ve had a wasted journey!’
Just then there was a cry from Thistle who was walking ahead.
‘Look!’ he cried. ‘Here it is.’
He was pointing excitedly at a brass sign on the door of a dingy, rundown building. It was dull from many years of London weather and the writing was hard to read, but they could still make out the words.
The Inkwell
Antiquarian Books
Established 1666
‘This is it all right,’ said Archie.
The paint on the door was battleship grey and peeling. It didn’t look very encouraging. Archie stood back to examine the bookshop. It was built of sandstone that had been eaten away by traffic fumes and other pollution, leaving black stains in the crevices. The shop windows on either side of the door had faded red curtains drawn across and the glass looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in years.
‘It looks a bit rundown,’ said Bramble.
‘Just a little,’ scoffed Arabella, turning up her nose. ‘What a dump! You could walk straight past it and not even notice it’s here.’
‘We almost did!’ agreed Archie. ‘It was only Thistle’s sharp eyes that spotted it. How did you spot it, by the way?’
‘It was the peeling paint on the door,’ Thistle said, grinning. ‘It reminded me of home!’
‘Well, I suppose we’d better go in,’ said Archie, a note of reluctance in his voice. It had seemed so simple when Rupert had suggested it, but now that they were actually here he wasn’t so sure. What if this Matilda person wouldn’t let them in? What if she reported them to the magical authorities?
But Archie knew there was no going back. There was no sign of a doorbell, so he pushed on the door. To his surprise it swung open and the four of them slipped inside.
They found themselves in a large, dark room. The light from outside struggled to get past the dirty windows and curtains. The only illumination came from some flickering gas lamps that smelled faintly of paraffin. The carpets were threadbare with the occasional rip that had been repaired with black tape.
The Inkwell didn’t look like any bookshop Archie had ever seen before. It was even stranger than the Aisle of White, and that was saying something! The floor was littered with piles of old books and stacks of yellowing newspapers.
Thistle raised his eyebrows. ‘It seems a little dated,’ he whispered.
Archie glimpsed the front page of the newspaper on the top of the pile. ‘Titanic Sinks On Maiden Voyage,’ it read. It was dated 15th April 1912.
‘Just a little!’ he agreed, smiling.
On the far side of the room a desk barred their way. As they approached it they could hear something: Click! Click! Clickety-click! Click! Click! Clickety-click!
A croaky voice accompanied the clicking sounds. ‘Knit one, purl one, drop one. Knit one, purl one, drop one. Knit one …’
The four children looked at each other with wide eyes.
‘What on earth is that?’ Bramble mouthed.
‘I don’t know!’ Archie mouthed back.
Just then the clicking and the counting both stopped and the voice said, ‘I can lip-read, you know.’
Sitting behind the desk was a very old woman. They hadn’t noticed her before because her dark clothes were camouflaged by the gloom. Now that they were closer they could see that she was dressed from head to foot in black. She wore a starched lace collar that came up to her chin. Her hair was grey and covered by a lace bonnet. She looked like she had stepped straight out of a Victorian photograph.
Hanging on the wall behind her was a blackboard with what looked like the menu of the day.
‘What do you want?’ she asked. ‘I’d like to get back to my knitting, you see. Are you lost?’
‘Erm … no,’ said Archie, stepping forward. ‘We’ve come to see Rupert Trevallan.’
‘Young Master Rupert?’ the old woman said with a note of surp
rise. Her face was small and deeply lined. It resembled a shelled walnut.
‘And you’re Matilda?’ Archie guessed.
‘Yes,’ said the old woman suspiciously. ‘Well, this is most irregular. Young Master Rupert doesn’t usually have visitors. Have you got an appointment?’
‘Not really an appointment as such,’ said Archie, unsure what to say to this. ‘But he is expecting us.’
‘No appointment?’ said the old woman. ‘That is most irregular.’
Archie tried to give her a confident smile, but his smile got stuck in his teeth.
‘No appointment!’ the old woman said again. She thought about this for a moment, and then plucked a feathered quill from an inkwell and began to write in a large leather-bound book on her desk.
‘Name?’
‘Archie Greene.’
The old receptionist scratched down the words in the book.
‘And this is Bramble and Thistle Foxe. And Arabella Ripley.’
Matilda gave them a cursory glance and recorded their names as well.
‘Password?’
Archie looked around for inspiration. Rupert had said the password would be on a blackboard, but the only blackboard he could see was the one with the menu on it. He glanced at the dishes of the day.
‘Parsnip soup?’ he said hopefully, reading out the first thing that caught his eye.
Matilda shook her head firmly.
Archie tried again. ‘Beef Wellington?’
Again she shook her head, an exasperated look on her face.
Archie tried one last time. ‘Treacle pudding?’
The old receptionist nodded. ‘Welcome to the Royal Society of Magic,’ she said. ‘Follow me.’
*
Rupert’s office was a scene of devastation. There were pieces of paper and books everywhere. Filing cabinets had been left half open, with files spilling out onto the floor. There were boxes of documents stacked precariously on top of each other.
In the midst of this confusion, two feet were parked on the desk. Rupert was slumped in a chair with his feet up.
