by D D Everest
‘That isn’t an ordinary dragonfly is it?’
‘No,’ chuckled the old bookbinder. ‘It’s called a snapdragon, and they can give you a nasty singe if they catch you off guard.’
He held up the cover of the book, which was called Magical Miniatures. ‘There are all sorts of nasty little beasties in here.’
The snapdragon opened its wings and launched itself into the air. It made a circuit of the workshop and then tried to dive bomb Archie, who ducked. Next it unleashed an attack on Old Zeb, who dodged out of the way just in time as it scorched the stool he had been sitting on. Then it flew through the open door and disappeared up the passageway.
‘Shouldn’t we try to catch it?’ asked Archie.
‘Oh I don’t think it will cause too much trouble,’ said Old Zeb. ‘They only last a few minutes and it can’t get past the curtain because it’s enchanted.’
At that moment they heard a shriek from upstairs.
‘Oh dear, sounds like Marjorie has found the snapdragon,’ said Old Zeb.
Archie grinned. ‘Or more like the snapdragon has found Marjorie!’
The old bookbinder pulled a face like a mischievous schoolboy. ‘Oh dear, oh dear,’ he said, but he didn’t seem too concerned.
‘What other sorts of magical books do you know about?’ he asked Archie.
Archie tried to remember what Bramble had told him. ‘Well, there’s drawing books,’ he said.
‘Yes,’ nodded the old bookbinder. ‘Jolly treacherous they are, too. Technically speaking, you know, they are magic portals – doorways that can pull you into another world, so I won’t show you an actual example. Too dangerous.’
*
Later that morning, Archie was just finishing stitching a loose leaf into a book of magical recipes called The Culinary Cauldron: Banquets That Go With A Bang, when Old Zeb yawned and stretched.
‘We’ll do one more book, and that will be enough for today. Pass me that old almanac. It should have been done days ago, but with Geoffrey still missing we’re in a bit of a muddle.’
Archie recognised the Ripleys’ almanac. The old bookbinder squinted at its leather cover through his magnifying glass. ‘The Alchemists’ Household Almanac,’ he wheezed. ‘Dated 1603 – it’s over four hundred years old.’
Archie thought about his book. Horace Catchpole had said it was over four hundred years old, too. Perhaps there was a connection.
‘Hmmm – unusual cover,’ mumbled Old Zeb. ‘Made from some sort of lizard’s skin. Well I never, it’s chameleon. You don’t see that very often. How interesting. Perhaps that’s why it’s a Special Instruction? I can see it’s got a crooked spine, too. We’ll have to see about that.’
The old bookbinder placed the book in the book press. Then he turned a large screw handle like a wing nut until the wooden jaws of the press closed on the book. As he did, Alex heard a voice screaming.
‘Help me! Please help me! The old man is cruel – he is killing me! Nooooo!’
Archie covered his ears with his hands and tried to block out the pitiful shrieks. Old Zeb turned the screw another turn and the screaming stopped. Archie felt a mix of sadness and relief.
Old Zeb looked at him. ‘Whatever is the matter?’
‘Didn’t you hear it?’ asked Archie, shocked.
‘Hear what?’
Archie glanced at Old Zeb but the old man looked unmoved. If he had heard the cries he did not show it. What the books had told him must be true, then – no one else could hear their voices.
Old Zeb unclamped the almanac. To Archie’s great relief the book was silent.
The old man handed the almanac to Archie. ‘Go and ask Marjorie if we know anything else about its history.’ He paused and then added, ‘But bring the book straight back to me. That’s very important. Don’t let it out of your sight. And remember …’
‘I know,’ said Archie, ‘third door on the right.’
*
Archie’s mind was still reeling as he made his way up the stairs. What was this strange gift that he possessed? What was he meant to do with it? He peeked through the velvet curtain. The bookshop was empty except for Marjorie.
‘The almanac you wanted Old Zeb to look at,’ he said, holding it up. ‘Do we know anything about its history?’
Marjorie peered at the book in his hand. ‘No,’ she said. ‘All we know is that it came from the Ripley family. But remind him it’s urgent. With Greaders about we can’t take any chances. The other new arrivals are in there,’ she added, indicating the cardboard box where Archie had put his book, ‘but they can wait.’
At that moment the doorbell clanged announcing the arrival of a customer.
‘Yes?’ Marjorie said. ‘Can I help you?’
Archie stared at the almanac in his hand. Did Marjorie suspect that it was the book the Greaders were after? Was that why it was urgent? And if the almanac was in danger, was his book at risk too?
Archie glanced at the bookcase. He hadn’t heard the books whispering for several days. The Little Book of Blessings had said that a book whisperer could talk to magical books. Perhaps the almanac could tell him what was going on. It was worth a try.
‘Hello,’ he whispered. ‘Can you hear me?’
Silence.
He tried again. ‘Are you all right?’
Still nothing. He shook his head. He must be mad, he thought, trying to talk to a book. He made his way back down the spiral stairs. When he reached the shadowy, flagstoned passageway, he heard a soft voice.
‘So, you are the book whisperer?’ it said. ‘How interesting.’
Archie peered into the shadows. ‘Who’s there?’ he cried, his voice cracking. ‘Who are you?’
‘You started the conversation,’ said the voice. It was coming from the almanac.
Archie felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. ‘What sort of book are you?’ he asked, suddenly wary.
‘My last master wished me to be an almanac,’ the voice replied, slyly. ‘But I can be any sort of book you desire. What is your pleasure?’
Archie was taken aback.
‘Er … I don’t know,’ he mumbled. ‘I just thought you might need protecting from Greaders …’
‘How perceptive of you!’ said the book. ‘But it’s not just Greaders – the old bookbinder can’t be trusted either. He means me harm. He didn’t need to put me in that clamp. He is cruel. He’s working for the Greaders.’
‘Old Zeb?’ said Archie. ‘Surely not.’
‘The old man isn’t what he seems,’ said the almanac. ‘He has a secret he doesn’t want you to know. It’s behind the second door.’
‘You are mistaken,’ said Archie.
‘If you don’t believe me, look for yourself.’
‘He warned me not to open the other doors,’ said Archie.
‘Exactly, and why do you think that is?’ sneered the almanac.
‘He’s trying to protect me, that’s all. It’s not safe,’ said Archie. He didn’t want to believe what the almanac was insinuating. But a seed of doubt had been sown in his mind.
The almanac seemed to sense his unease. ‘Have it your own way,’ it said. ‘But don’t say I didn’t warn you!’
Archie stopped outside the blue door. It was the same door he had heard strange noises coming from before. He noticed something odd about the door, something missing. Then he realised that there was no door handle. He was already curious to know what was behind it and now he was even more intrigued. He knew he should return to the mending workshop but he hesitated.
Marjorie and Old Zeb had both warned him not to open any of the doors except that of the mending workshop. Now he thought about it, that did seem suspicious. What were they keeping in there that they didn’t want him to see? He was about to move on when he heard a groaning sound, like ice moving.
Archie put his ear to the door and listened.
‘I told you the old man has a secret,’ said the almanac.
‘But what’s in there?’ asked Arc
hie, still unsure whether to believe the book.
‘Why don’t you take a look for yourself?’
‘But how can I open the door?’ Archie said. ‘There’s no door handle!’
‘Surely you’re not going to let a little thing like that stop you?’ said the almanac. ‘You’re supposed to be a book whisperer, after all! The answer’s there – you just need to put your finger on it.’
Archie stared at the door again. What was the almanac talking about? There was definitely no handle. Unless …
He reached out his hand to where the handle should have been and to his surprise his fingers touched something solid. He closed his hand around it. There was a door handle after all! It was just invisible. The almanac had been right, the answer was there in front of him. And if the book was right about that, perhaps it was telling the truth about Old Zeb too?
Cautiously Archie began to turn the door handle. Very, very slowly he put his weight against it. The door opened a crack.
20
Behind the Blue Door
A blast of cold air hit Archie’s face, making him gasp. He pushed the door open a little more. Something glittered on the ground, like a myriad of tiny diamonds reflecting the light. Ice. The floor was covered with it.
The air on this side of the door was freezing and he could see his breath hanging in the air like fog and feel it catching in his lungs. Long icicles hung from the ceiling, and somewhere nearby he could hear water dripping.
Archie squeezed through the narrow gap. His shoes made crunching sounds as they disturbed the frost-covered floor. He had not taken more than ten steps when an amber light came on. Archie stopped in his tracks. With a shock, he realised that it wasn’t a light at all but a very large eye that had just opened. Something was watching him from the darkness.
Archie’s heart was thumping in his chest and his legs felt wobbly. Then he heard it, the deep gravelly, growling sound of some terrible beast. Archie felt the almanac twitch in his hand.
‘Run for your life!’ it shrieked. ‘The beast is coming.’
Archie turned and ran for it. Thankfully, the door was still ajar and he could see a sliver of light. But as he raced towards it, he slipped and fell, sliding across the frosty flagstones on his stomach.
The almanac flew out of his hand and skidded across the floor and out through the open door. The light was poor but Archie thought he saw something moving on the surface of the book. It looked like black worms, writhing all over the cover. When he looked again they were gone. He heard the growling sound behind him.
Convinced the awakened beast was about to pounce, he scrambled to his feet and bolted for the door. He twisted his body sideways and squirmed through. The door slammed shut behind him.
Archie rested his hands on his knees while he caught his breath. As his ragged breathing began to slow, he shivered. His clothes were coated in a fine layer of glistening hoar frost, like a lawn on a winter’s morning.
What sort of creature was Old Zeb keeping in there? Did the museum elders know about it?
He stared at the almanac lying on the ground at his feet. Its cover was still and intact. Whatever he thought he’d seen must have been a trick of the light.
‘What was that thing?’ he demanded. But the book was silent.
*
When he got back to 32 Houndstooth Road that afternoon, Archie couldn’t wait to tell Bramble and Thistle about the beast behind the blue door.
‘What do you think it is?’ he said, after recounting his close call.
‘It definitely sounds like a magical beast,’ said Bramble. ‘I suppose it could be some random popper that’s escaped from the menagerie.’
‘The menagerie?’ asked Archie, who had heard it mentioned before. ‘What’s that?’
‘The mythical menagerie is what’s left of Alexander the Great’s collection of magical creatures,’ said Bramble. ‘There’s one or two actual creatures but these days they are mostly poppers. That’s probably what you saw.’
‘I suppose so, but a popper would ezaporate and I think it’s been there a while,’ said Archie.
‘But why would Old Zeb keep a magical beast under the Aisle of White?’ asked Thistle. ‘It doesn’t make any sense.’
‘Unless he’s working for the Greaders,’ said Archie, darkly. ‘He was very insistent that I was to bring the almanac straight back to him. I wonder if he means to pass it on to them.’
‘That’s ridiculous,’ said Bramble, but she didn’t seem completely convinced. ‘And anyway, what’s that got to do with the beast behind the blue door?’
‘I don’t know,’ admitted Archie. ‘But it must be against the Lore to hoard magical creatures. And that’s not all – I think the beast was protecting something.’
‘Why do you say that?’ asked Bramble.
Archie shook his head. ‘I don’t know. It’s just a hunch. Anyway, whatever the creature is, it was asleep until I went in and disturbed it.’
‘What on earth possessed you to open the door in the first place?’ demanded Thistle.
Archie shrugged. He couldn’t tell them that the almanac had put the idea in his head and sowed the seed of doubt about the old bookbinder. He hadn’t worked out how his cousins would react to his book-whispering secret. ‘I was just curious,’ he said.
‘You are a maniac!’ Thistle declared. ‘Certifiable!’
Part of Archie was secretly pleased that his cousins thought him daring and slightly mad. But he still didn’t tell them about his strange conversations with the books. It was one thing to be slightly mad – and quite another to be stark raving.
‘I’ll do some research in the museum,’ Bramble offered. ‘See if I can’t find out what it is. Especially since you’re working so close to it, Arch!’
So now they had two mysteries on their hands – solving the riddle and finding out what kind of creature Old Zeb was keeping under the Aisle of White.
‘Anyway, whatever it is, you’re lucky it didn’t eat you or worse!’ said Thistle.
‘I suppose so,’ said Archie, wondering what could be worse than being eaten.
21
The Dragon Expert
It was a few days later when things took a more sinister turn. Bramble, having made no progress with identifying the beast, was now devoting her time and energy to solving the riddle from the scroll. As her apprenticeship was in the museum itself, it didn’t look suspicious if she stayed late researching. That evening, Archie had waited behind to have a hot chocolate with her at Quill’s. By the time they left it was getting dark.
‘I asked around at the museum to see if any of the apprentices had any idea what you saw behind the blue door,’ said Bramble. ‘Meredith Merrydance thought it sounded like a dragon.’
‘No, I don’t think it’s a dragon,’ said Archie, amazed to hear himself saying such a thing. ‘It didn’t smell like a dragon somehow.’
Bramble raised her eyebrows. ‘And what exactly does a dragon smell like?’ she asked.
‘I don’t really know,’ admitted Archie. ‘But I think it would have more of a stench or something. Besides, dragons breathe fire and it was really cold.’
‘Now you’re some kind of an expert on dragons!’ exclaimed Bramble. ‘Is there no end to your talents?’
‘Very funny,’ said Archie. ‘But I’m serious.’
He told her about his father’s copy of Creatures to Avoid If You Are of a Nervous Disposition. ‘There were lots of dragons in there – their eyes were cruel and cunning. But the creature I saw had amber eyes.’
‘So we still don’t know what it is,’ groaned Bramble. ‘And I can’t make head nor tail of that riddle either. I spoke to Enid Drew – she’s a whiz with magical languages. Not as quick as you, of course, Arch,’ she teased. ‘Anyway, Enid said that Enochian Script was popular with magicians in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, but no one uses it any more because it’s too hard.’
‘So we still don’t have much to go on,’ Archie said, as they w
alked up the steps into the small courtyard by the Aisle of White. ‘Just that mysterious symbol on the clasp of my book – the same one that’s on the scroll. If only we knew who sent the riddle and the book – and if it was the same person.’
‘I bet we could find the symbol if we did some more research at the museum!’ Bramble exclaimed excitedly, her eyes shining in the dark.
‘Bram, you’re already working late every night on deciphering the riddle. If anyone should be trying to find the symbol, it should be me.’
‘I can handle it,’ she said.
Archie glanced across at her. She looked tired. His cousin had more energy and enthusiasm than anyone he’d ever known, but the late nights were taking their toll. Archie let her walk a few paces ahead.
‘So, what do you think?’ Bramble asked casually over her shoulder. ‘About finding the symbol, I mean?’
Archie didn’t answer. He was standing very still.
‘Arch?’
‘Shhhhh,’ he whispered. ‘I think there’s someone there.’
There was a movement in the shadows and a dark figure lunged at him, catching hold of his wrist. Archie tried to pull away but his attacker held him tight.
‘Where is the book?’ it hissed in his ear. ‘Give it to me – if you want your cousins to live!’
‘What book?’ Archie stammered.
‘Don’t play games with me Archie Greene. You know what book. You have no idea what you are dealing with!’
‘I haven’t got it.’
‘But you had it!’ the voice accused. ‘Where is it now?’
His attacker loosened his grip just for a second. Archie saw his chance and yanked his arm free. ‘Run, Bram, run!’
His assailant lunged for him again and caught hold of Archie’s sweatshirt. At that moment, a door opened across the courtyard and someone ran up the steps with a torch.
