The Mysterious Mr Wylie: Wonky Inn Book 6

by Jeannie Wycherley

  Settling it down on a clear surface he carefully opened the box and slid out an object covered in a cream silk handkerchief. He gently unwrapped it, and Gorde’s Gimcrack, entirely and unexpectedly in one piece, stared up at us. Although similar to all the other Gimcracks we’d seen, the exceptional quality was obvious. Crafted from hundreds and hundreds of tiny pieces of brass and gold, with quartz-headed pins, Gorde’s Gimcrack, for all its cogs and springs, its internal workings on its outside, was an object of beauty.

  “Oh,” I breathed. “It’s amazing.”

  “Yes. Yes it is,” Paul agreed, handling it with reverence.

  “The essence?” I asked.

  Paul picked up the Gimcrack and pressed a hidden button on the side. Instantly the glass centre lit up, bathing the shadowy rear room in bright blue light. “It’s inside,” Paul explained. “You have to open it to extract any.” He twisted the Gimcrack to the reverse, “And here, if you press this…”

  “Whoa!” Silvan’s hand shot out and extricated the palm-sized gadget from Paul’s grasp. “I’ll take that for safekeeping. Do you mind if I keep the box?” Without waiting for an answer, he carefully wrapped the Gimcrack in the handkerchief and slipped it inside the packaging before Paul could answer yay or nay.

  Paul looked longingly at the box as Silvan tucked it under his arm. “That’s a good job, well done,” Silvan announced. “Thank you for your cooperation, Paul.”

  Paul, for the first time, examined Silvan with some suspicion. “And you will be giving it back to the Cosmic Order of Chronometric Wizards?” he asked.

  “You have my word,” I said hurriedly, before Silvan could come up with an alternative suggestion. I held my hand out and Paul shook it. “We won’t spill the beans, I promise.”

  We headed for the front of the shop, with Paul following us, a look of yearning on his face. “Pop in, the next time you’re passing,” he suggested.

  “Oh, I’m never passing,” said Silvan.

  I shook my head at him in annoyance. “Well, I do. I visit Celestial Street quite frequently. I’ll come and see you again next time I’m in London, Paul.”

  I waved and we walked away, heading down the cobbled street, for the rear entrance of the bookshop that would spit us back out into the mundane world. I could feel Paul’s on us, watching us all the way.

  As I stopped to scan my palm against the security screen, I glanced back. “If he’s been using the essence to time travel, he’s going to miss it, isn’t he?”

  Silvan grunted. “He’ll have saved a secret stash of it, mark my words.”

  “He’ll have drained some out and kept it, you mean?” That hadn’t occurred to me. “Only someone as devious as you would think of that,” I said. We entered the dark corridor and the security door closed behind us. I paused to let my eyes get used to the subdued light level. Silvan walked on ahead.

  “Wait up,” I called. “You’d better let me carry the Gimcrack.”

  Silvan picked up his pace and I had to break into a trot to catch up with him. The goddess only knew how much money magickal time-travelling essence would fetch on the black market, and I certainly wasn’t in a rush to let Silvan find that out for himself.

  Much later, Silvan and I arrived home in Whittlecombe. The train had been delayed and jam-packed with jolly, if slightly inebriated, football supporters who’d ventured to the capital to watch a big national match. Fortunately, we’d won, so everyone was in a good mood.

  We hadn’t really discussed how we could get Gorde’s Gimcrack back to Mr Wylie, but by silent and mutual assent we had made our way straight to the clearing in Speckled Wood, arriving just before midnight. We sat on the benches there, kicking our heels, certain our cosmic friend would know to find us.

  He didn’t let us down. One second after the stroke of midnight, a bright blue flash alerted us to his arrival, and we stood to meet him.

  “Good evening.” He smiled happily. “You found it? I had a feeling that left to your own devices you would.”

  “We did.” I brandished the box. “It’s here. But where’s my owl?”

  Mr Wylie looked sheepish. “Ah. I believe I owe you an apology. I’d like to invite you to travel with me, for one last time. Maybe enjoy a spot of high tea… and erm… a little celebration.”

  “And if we don’t, I won’t get my owl back?” Surely, he wasn’t blackmailing us?

  I glanced at Silvan, unsure what to make of this development. He shrugged. The devil-may-care but Silvan didn’t. He was always up for adventures.

  “I promise you Mr Hoo has been well taken care of. In fact, he’s even been enjoying himself. He seemed perfectly happy to stay on without you for a short while. Perhaps he understood you would be coming back for him.” Mr Wylie lifted his Gimcrack. “Besides, I think we owe you the full story.”

  I nodded. “Alright then.” I reached out to grab his arm. Silvan took the other side and once more we jumped through time and space. The sky and the stars swirled around us, the air rushed past my face and then we were back in My Wylie’s planodome.

  I hardly had a moment to catch my breath and Mr Wylie was whisking us through the door to the underground corridor. This time, when we clambered into the little buggy, we ventured left. It made no difference. The view from the buggy was much the same as before. White walls, lines of lights, nothing interesting to see.

  “Where is Mr Hoo?” I asked, my stomach jittering with nerves. Mr Wylie had a nasty habit of keeping his own counsel and I wasn’t fond of surprises.

  “We’re going to meet him now,” Mr Wylie promised. “Nearly there. Just around the curve.” We trundled on a little further. “Here we are.”

  Silvan and I dutifully followed Mr Wylie up a flight of tiled steps to an ornately carved wooden door in light wood. He tapped on it and stood back as it opened away from us, indicating we should enter ahead of him.

  I stepped forwards and caught my breath. This was incredible. Spectacular. Unlike anything we had seen here previously. The domed ceiling sparkled with life. Much like a planetarium, the stars had been mapped out, and they winked at us from the deep blue skies. I could pick out comets, their long tails blazing behind them, and clusters of shooting stars. Whether they were Perseids or Geminids, or something else entirely, I had no real idea.

  There were no telescopes here, nothing to indicate this was a laboratory, far from it. The lower part of the large dome looked like a theatre space, or a place of worship, or a court. There were rows of seating, like church pews, set on an incline so that everyone had a view into the bowl of the venue. Wizards in saffron robes were filing in from numerous doors and taking their places. The room filled with a hubbub of noise, murmurings, some laughter. I sensed the energy, the excitement. Something important was going to happen here.

  In the centre of this circular space a large glass cylinder glowed with psychedelic light. It changed colour slowly, moving from one end of the spectrum to the other, incorporating every possible shade and hue in between. In the very centre of the tube I spotted a largish vial, approximately the size of a glass pint bottle.

  “Essence?” Silvan asked Mr Wylie, who nodded and guided us over for a closer look. The vial was approximately three-quarters full of pale blue liquid.

  “This, besides what is decanted into the Gimcracks, is all the magickal essence that exists in the entire universe. All that we’ve been able to find, that is.” He lifted his own Gimcrack. “At any one time, only thirteen wizards are permitted to travel in time. They use their own individual Gimcrack, the one they created themselves as a novice. Each Gimcrack must be wrought by a wizard’s own hand in our workshops during their apprenticeship. There are many, many levels to attain before anyone is entrusted enough to become part of the elite band of travellers.”

  “What happens to those who don’t make it?” I asked, fascinated at this insight into Mr Wylie’s world.

  “They remain honourable members of the order. Every wizard who completes his or her training becomes
a vital component of the operation. The measurement of time, the science and philosophy required to travel through space, the research necessary to understand the culture, history, communication, society and ideologies of the places we visit—these are all hugely important. There are others who monitor our travel and interactions, our wellbeing and so on. Everyone has a role to play.”

  Silvan peered closely at the essence. “How much of this is actually required to jump through time?”

  Mr Wylie puffed his lips out. “Probably a thousandth of what you’d find on the head of a pin. It’s powerful stuff. But the problem is… that it’s finite. Once the essence has been used it can’t be reused, so when its gone, that’s it. It’s more valuable to us than gold or diamonds or oil.”

  Perfectly understandable. “And that’s why you needed Gorde’s Gimcrack returned? To recover the essence.”

  “Yes. Gorde would have understood the importance of protecting the essence when he knew his life was failing. On one hand he would want us to recover the essence and on the other, he wouldn’t have wanted to risk the possibility of a rogue time-traveller.”

  I thought guiltily of Paul Tiny, but Silvan and I had made a promise not to drop him in it. I had to hope Silvan was wrong, and that Paul hadn’t saved much of the essence, if any at all. I avoided looking at Silvan and hoped my face wouldn’t give the game away.

  I held up the box containing Gorde’s Gimcrack. “Then this belongs to you.” Mr Wylie took it from me with care. He slipped the contraction out of the box and uncovered it, and I saw his eyes moisten as he gazed at the Gimcrack that had once belonged to his good friend.

  “Thank you, Alfhild,” he said. “And Silvan. You have greatly honoured the Cosmic Order of Chronometric Wizards with your assistance at this time. We will not forget.”

  He turned and beckoned, and a young wizard scurried forward. “Please return the contents to the source and properly cleanse the Gimcrack.” The wizard nodded and rushed away.

  “I must leave you now. For a short while. Someone will be along to show you to a seat.” He nodded at us and disappeared through one of the side doors. I watched him go, then looked about.

  The chattering and gaiety had reached a volume of epic proportions while we’d been discussing the essence, and now I observed the large numbers of Chronometric wizards gathering in the seats. I could hardly hear myself think. Whatever was about to happen here seemed to have put people in a good mood.

  From across the dome I spotted someone waving at me. I blinked and screwed my eyes up to help me focus. Wizard Shadowmender? He appeared to be sitting among some other high-ranking officials, possibly the Council of Witches. I lifted my hand to wave back, just as Acting High Wizard Ballulah Borodov joined us on the floor. I was relieved to see Mr Hoo perching on her wrist.

  I reached out for him. “Hey!” I exclaimed, and with one leap he fluttered over to sit on my arm and rub his warm feathered face against my cheek. “Thank goodness you’re alright!”

  “It’s time to take your seats,” Ballulah said and indicated three in the front row. One for her, it turned out, and the others for Silvan and I. Mr Hoo took a perch on the edge of a wooden strut and twitted happily to himself.

  “What’s going on?” I asked Ballulah.

  “This is the investiture of the new High Wizard. Now that we have Gorde’s Gimcrack safely restored to us, and we know what happened to him, we can appoint someone new. Those are big boots to fill. Guillaume Gorde was an extraordinary wizard.”

  Silvan leaned forwards to speak across me. “I thought you were Acting High Wizard?”

  “It was only a temporary post in my case. I’m an administrator by trade, not a time traveller. It was a great honour to serve in the interim.”

  I nodded. “So, who then?”

  Around us the room hushed as the lights began to fade, and the excited murmurs ceased. There were a few shhh’s. Ballulah nodded forwards where an old, old woman carrying a shining staff that stood taller than she, walked onto the floor, flanked by a pair of Chronometric wizards. I recognised the woman from pictures. Her long lustrous silver hair reached down to her calves and shone in the light. It took on the rainbow hue from the essence. Her face was at once ancient and yet her skin exuded health. But perhaps I might have known her through her charisma alone. The power of her magick radiated from her and bathed us all in its glory.

  As one the audience stood. Even Silvan leapt straight to his feet. For this was Neamh, the Mother of Witches, and the leader of the Council of Witches. There was no greater living authority than she, and to be in her presence was an incredible honour for us all.

  “Be seated, friends,” she called, in a voice strong and pure. We shuffled into place once more. I held my breath and waited.

  She lifted her staff and slammed it down on the hard-tiled floor. The noise reverberated through the dome. To my right, a single door opened casting a light into the darkened dome. Twelve hooded wizards, recognisable from their robes as the Cosmic Order of Chronometric Wizards, slipped gracefully into the space and took their places in a circle.

  Neamh turned slowly to take in all who had gathered here. When she smiled, it was a smile that enveloped us all, included us all in her love and joy. “Well met,” she uttered, so quietly I should have strained to hear her, and yet it rang as clear as a bell in my head.

  She turned back to the wizards in front of her. “Friends,” she said again. “Today, we are gathered to witness a momentous occasion. We join here today for the selection of a new High Wizard.” She indicated the glowing source of essence with her staff. “In a moment we will get to that. First,” she turned again to address the audience, “let us take a moment to pay our humble respects to Guillaume Gorde, whose sad demise occasions this ceremony.”

  As one we climbed to our feet once more, this time bowing our heads. Neamh offered a simple but heartfelt memorial to Guillaume. “He was the noblest of wizards, an archetype of cosmic time travel, and a friend to many. He was loved and will be missed by all who knew him.”

  There were mutterings of agreement and we took a second to think of him and send love between the planes.

  “While we’re on our feet, I’d also like to offer our thanks to Acting High Wizard Ballulah Borodov for her generous support and fastidious organisation of matters to do with the Order while the investigation into Gorde’s whereabouts was attended to.”

  There was a roar of approval and applause and Ballulah graciously smiled, lifting her hand to acknowledge it.

  Neamh called our attention back. “Now to conduct the business in hand.” She aimed her long staff at the glass cylinder. “Let the source of the essence choose the wizard who will lead the Order.” Her staff spat a rod of white energy in the direction of the vial of magickal essence, and the room plunged into darkness. I heard the collective intake of breath, and then the essence lit up once more. Colours began to spin around the room—yellow, orange, red, purple, lilac, pink, blue, violet, green and so on—slowly at first, the gentlest of disco lights, then faster and faster until the world was a kaleidoscope of vibrant shades and I could hardly take them in. When I felt sure I would go blind the spinning abruptly halted and the room dimmed to black once more.

  The next time the lights went up, they were directed at only one wizard. A man.

  He blinked in shock and then began to beam. Once again, we took to our feet and clapped as hard as we could. The essence had spoken. The Mysterious Mr Wylie had been chosen as the new High Wizard of the Cosmic Order of Chronometric Wizards.

  The new High Wizard of the Cosmic Order of Chronometric Wizards waved us a fond farewell after the slap-up High Tea he’d promised. The cakes and sandwiches and sweet delicacies on offer were nice, but to be honest, Florence could have managed a better job of catering for the gathered throng of witches and wizards.

  Star struck by some of the powerful personalities milling around the dome, I’d been a little sad to leave, but Silvan and I didn’t really belong there.
My place was at my wonky inn, Mr Hoo belonged with me, and Silvan well… wherever the devil he rocked up, I guess.

  As we prepared to jump back through time, Mr Wylie stroked Mr Hoo’s head and shook my hand. “Neamh wanted you to know she appreciated your efforts on our behalf,” he said, and I blushed to think that she had even heard my name. The glow of pleasure began in my stomach and spread throughout my body. “Both of you.” He nodded at Silvan, who for once, didn’t quite know what to say.

  “You’ll have to tread a straight and narrow path from now on,” I nudged him.

  “It’ll never happen,” he replied, and part of me felt reassured by that.

  We landed in the clearing. Midnight had come and gone but not by much. Time-travel is a wonderful thing when it allows you to party through the night and yet be home in time to manage a full night’s sleep.

  Mr Wylie turned to me and I recognised the small box he held out.

  “Is this—”

  “It’s Gorde’s Gimcrack, yes.”

  Taken aback I slipped the machine out and stared at it, in all its intricately crafted detail. Beautiful. “But—”

  “It’s been deactivated. I’ve had it properly and professionally cleaned. There’s no trace of essence left inside. I thought you’d like it as a reminder of your adventure.”

  “That’s really kind of you. It will be treasured.”

  Mr Wylie smiled. “That’s all we can ask.” He lifted his own Gimcrack to make the final jump away.

  “Wait!” I called. “What about Guillaume’s body?”

  “Can I entrust that to you, Alfhild? The Cosmic Order of Chronometric Wizards has no need of his remains.”

  I nodded. “Of course. We’ll hold a private ceremony, right here in Speckled Wood.”

  “Perfect,” Mr Wylie smiled. “He did so love it here.” And then, in a flash of blue light, he had gone.