by Jenny Nimmo
"I've never heard of it," said Maisie.
"Nor me," echoed Amy "Oh, Charlie, I wish you wouldn't go wandering into strange parts of town by yourself."
"I was with Runner, and anyway Olivia was there, so I wasn't alone."
"But still." Amy sighed. "I can't help worrying, Charlie. If only your father was . . . There are people out there who don't wish you well. If you were to.. disappear like Lyell, I don't know what I'd do."
"I won't disappear, Mom. My father wasn't endowed. But I am!”
“Exactly," Amy said softly. "Come and have your tea."
Charlie sat down, feeling guilty and Maisie poured him a cup of tea. "We can't help worrying," she said. "Your great-aunt Venetia was here."
"Venetia!" Charlie's knife clattered onto his plate. "Did Grandma Bone let her in?"
"Nope. She must have a key. I opened the kitchen door, and there she was, standing in the hall. She looked dreadful, hair all over the place, clothes a mess. She used to be so put together. I think she's losing her mind. That fire in her house has driven her over the edge."
"She was carrying an armful of clothes," said Charlie's mother. "Wanted to know if we'd like them."
“As if!" snorted Maisie. "She'd probably poisoned them."
"We told her to leave, and then I locked all the bedroom doors just in case. Here's your key, Charlie." Amy Bone pushed a key across the table. "Lock your door when you go to school tomorrow, and give Maisie the key."
Charlie groaned. As if there weren't enough to remember, now they all had to lock their doors.
"It can't be helped," said Maisie. "We don't want to end up with poison in our pants or snakes up our sleeves, do we?"
When snack time was over, Charlie sat back to watch his favorite TV show. The Barkers, a story about dog people. Against Grandma Bone's wishes, Maisie had insisted on having a small TV on top of the kitchen cupboard. She didn't want to miss her soaps, she told Grandma Bone, and if she were to spend all her time slaving away in the kitchen, she could at least be permitted a little enjoyment while she did it. Unless, of course, certain people would like to do a bit of slaving themselves.
Grandma Bone was horrified at the thought of slaving and gave in.
Charlie's show had just begun when Uncle Paton looked in and said, "I've got it!"
Got what?” asked Charlie, hoping the gleam in his uncle's eye didn't mean that one of the aunts had given him a nasty disease.
"The Castle of Mirrors, dear boy," said Uncle Paton. "Come upstairs and I'll show you."
"But my show's just started," said Charlie, wriggling uncomfortably in his seat.
"Oh, well, if TV takes precedence — so be it!" Uncle Paton backed out, slamming the door behind him.
Charlie watched The Barkers for another five minutes, but he couldn't concentrate. Nothing was funny today. Maisie and his mother were giggling over a magazine article. It was horribly distracting. Charlie gave an audible sigh, turned off the TV, and left the kitchen. He ran upstairs and tapped on his uncle's door.
"What?" called Paton.
"You said you've got something to show me — about the Castle of Mirrors."
"Did I? Then you'd better come in," said Paton a little grudgingly
Charlie went in. His uncle's room was in its usual state of chaos. Books on the floor, papers on the bed, and shelves bending under the weight of manuscripts and encyclopedias. Paton sat at his desk. He was wearing his half-moon glasses and reading one of the oldest-looking books Charlie had ever seen. The pages were a dark mustard color and their edges rough and curling. The leather cover was soft and worn and could hardly restrain the coarse paper that appeared to spill out of it.
"Clever Julia found this among her treasures. She has an astounding memory, and when you mentioned a castle of mirrors, she knew she had seen the name before." Uncle Paton gingerly closed the book, and Charlie read the title, The Book of Amadis, printed in laded gold on the cover.
"Amadis?" said Charlie.
"The Red King's second son." Paton tapped the ancient book. "This tells it all. Amadis was forced to flee his father's castle when Borlath, the eldest, set out on his deadly pursuit of power. He destroyed everyone who got in his way, and in this he was helped by four of his siblings. The other five, including Amadis, tried to prevent the terrible slaughter that was going on in the surrounding countryside. But Borlath and his followers were strong, and eventually the more honorable siblings fled the castle in fear for their lives."
"And is Amadis Billy's ancestor?" asked Charlie.
"It would seem so."
"Then who is our ancestor? The one who began the Yewbeams. Was he good or evil?"
"From what I can find out, she was Amoret, Amadis' favorite sister."
“A girl?" Charlie hadn't even considered this.
"Yes, Charlie, a girl." Paton opened the ancient book again. "She fled with Amadis, but traveling north they became separated. Amoret was lost and Amadis sailed to an island in the northwest. He was well loved, and many who lived on the king's estates left their homes and followed Amadis rather than suffer Borlath's murderous tyranny . . .."
Charlie broke in, "But Amoret? You said she was lost. Don't you know what happened to her? Doesn't anyone? I mean, could I find out . . . maybe on the Internet?"
Paton gave a sigh of impatience. "You wouldn't find Amoret in your computer, Charlie. Her history is too secret for that. No one knows the whole truth. It is we who must uncover it. And that's what I've been trying to do for the past twenty years." He swept out an arm, indicating the shelves of books and worn papers. "When I met Julia Ingledew, it was like finding a treasure — someone else who was fascinated by the past, who thought nothing of spending a whole week pursuing one tiny, elusive fact in order to complete a puzzle. To me such a person is a jewel, Charlie, even if she were not the most congenial and lovely person I have ever met."
Charlie had never heard his uncle speak so passionately "Are you going to marry her?" he asked.
Paton blinked and then said quietly "I dare not even think about that."
"Why not? It seems like a good idea to me," he said bluntly
Uncle Paton gave a delicate cough. "Our subject was the Castle of Mirrors, not the future of Paton Yewbeam," he said in a flat tone. "Are you interested in this book or not?"
"You bet," said Charlie earnestly "Could I sit down, please? It's been kind of a long day"
"Help yourself." Paton motioned his head, and Charlie, having pushed several books aside, made himself comfortable on Paton's large, untidy bed.
Paton swiveled his worn leather chair around to face Charlie and began to read. As evening drew in and an early moon appeared in the darkening sky, Charlie was swept away by the story of Prince Amadis and the Castle of Shining Glass. The clutter of his great-uncle's room faded and, through half-closed eyes, he began to see a castle rising in the center of a blue island set in a glittering sea.
"They said it was the fairest castle in the world." Uncle Paton was the perfect storyteller. He made the written words his own, and his deep, melodious voice filled the room with bright images: splendid knights, horses, golden cups, shining swords and shields, (lying pennants, the raging surf — and fire.
"When Amadis and his followers had built their fine castle, there followed fifteen years of peace. The land was fertile and they prospered. The prince married one of his followers and they had four children. The youngest was called Owain."
“And the other three?" Charlie asked, tentatively.
"Not relevant," said his uncle. He proceeded to explain why those three poor children had no part in the story
"It was inevitable that Borlath should hear of the island castle and want it for himself With a thousand savage mercenaries, he crossed the sea and surrounded the castle, demanding that Amadis give it up."
"And Amadis refused?" Charlie threw in.
"Of course. He knew that if he surrendered the castle, his family would be slaughtered. But it was a heartbreaking decision
to have to make. Amadis was well aware of Borlath's terrible talent."
Charlie leaned forward eagerly. "That's what I was going to ask, Uncle P. All the Red King's children were endowed, right? So what could Amadis do? And what about Borlath?"
"Amadis knew the language of birds and beasts. He could talk to any creature in the world, but this didn't count for much when he had to defend his people against Borlath."
Charlie waited expectantly, until at last his uncle told him, "Borlath had fire. When he put his mind to it, he could burn anything in his way. But he didn't want to destroy such a fine building; he wanted it for himself, so he laid siege to the castle. That didn't mean that he sat around waiting for Amadis to surrender. Oh, no! First, Borlath's army tried to scale the walls. The archers on the battlements soon put a stop to that. Then the mercenaries tried to force the great oak door with a battering ram. But a cloud of bats swooped down and all but blinded them. At the end of the tenth week, Amadis and a hundred men left the castle in the dead of night and attacked Borlath's sleeping army. Surprise gave Amadis an advantage, but eventually his small force was overcome by Borlath's bloodthirsty warriors, experts in killing who relished every severed head and limb."
Charlie shuddered. "So was Amadis killed?"
"He was fatally wounded," Uncle Paton replied. “A spear in his shoulder." He referred to the book and added, "Most of his men were killed, but the few who survived managed to get the prince back to the castle and he lived — until the end.
"Perhaps, in his heart, Amadis had always known that Borlath would find him one day. So within the castle, he had stored a huge supply of grain and provisions. They also had a very deep well. When the stores began to get low, Amadis talked to the animals." Paton smiled to himself. "An army of rats invaded Borlath’s stores. Wolves attacked the sentries, birds pecked holes in the tents, and at night the bats came again, screeching out of the sky and making sleep impossible. The lives of Borlath's soldiers became intolerable. The weather was turning cold. It began to rain. The army had had enough. They wanted to go home."
“And that's when Borlath used fire, isn't it?" said Charlie.
Paton nodded. He looked down at the book. “At the base of the castle, there was an outer and inner wall of thick wooden stakes. But within the wood and rising above it was a wall of yellow stone. In a gesture of fury and contempt, Borlath raised his fists and called for fire. The wooden stakes burst into flame. Those inside the castle were immediately engulfed in a ring of fire. Some threw themselves from the battlements. Others were overwhelmed before they could climb that far. Every man, woman, and child, every creature within the castle perished — except one."
"Who?" exclaimed Charlie, jolted out of the dreadful world of flames that his uncle had conjured up. "I mean, how could anyone . . . ?"
"Wait!" his uncle commanded. Charlie fell silent.
"The intense heat of those burning stakes caused the stones to vitrify; in other words, the walls turned to glass, a thick, black glass." Paton's dark eyes took on an animated gleam. "Now, this is the really interesting part, Charlie. I believe it might hold a clue to the other side of your family." Paton turned a page. "During his travels, Amadis had made friends with a Welsh magician, a man called Mathonwy. This magician lived on the mainland far south of the prince's island. But the blaze that Borlath created was so fierce, it lit up the sky for miles around. Clouds turned to lire, birds became black, and the bloodred sea boiled like a cauldron.
From far away Mathonwy saw the conflagration. He guessed what had happened. Was it too late to save his friend, Prince Amadis? Mathonwy did the only thing he could. He caused a snowfall. A blanket of snow swept toward the burning castle. When it reached the island, the snow fell, and where it touched the scorched walls, a strange thing happened. The vitrified stones began to shine."
"A castle of shining glass," breathed Charlie. "But, Uncle P, what's the connection to my family?"
"Mathonwy," said Paton brusquely. "Remember the name on the family tree that Maisie gave you? Your Welsh ancestor?"
"Oh," said Charlie slowly "But the date is wrong."
"The name is enough. The Welsh used their ancestors' names over and over."
"Oh," Charlie said again, and thinking of his Welsh ancestor, he remembered the wand. "Uncle Paton, I've lost the . . . you know . . . the wand."
"What!" Paton's glasses slid to the end of his nose.
"I took it to school. It was stupid of me. I put it under my mattress and now it's gone."
"Do you suspect anyone?"
"Yes. And if it's who I think it is, I'll probably get it back. Please go on with the story"
Uncle Paton shook his head. "Sometimes, your carelessness astounds me, Charlie."
He looked down at the book. "The castle walls became so smooth and so bright that Borlath's soldiers beheld an army looking out at them. What a hideous and terrifying sight it was. Believing that Prince Amadis and his men had survived the lire and were, therefore, supernatural, the mercenaries ran for their boats. Only Borlath realized that the glimmering army was his own, but he didn't attempt to take the castle. For some reason, the shining walls appalled him and he too left the island."
"So they were all dead in there," said Charlie, "except for one. It must have been like a great shining tomb. I wouldn't like to have been the one to survive. Who was it, Uncle P.?"
Paton referred to the book again, turning several pages before he reached a place almost at the end. “There was one survivor, the prince's youngest son, while haired Owain, who was an albino and knew the language of t he beasts and birds. So Owain, being without home or family, departed from the island on the advice of a raven. And the raven traveled with him."
"He sounds like Billy," said Charlie in astonishment. "Exactly like Billy."
"Exactly," Paton agreed. "Odd how the same features pop up through the generations. Unfortunately, it doesn't say how the boy managed to survive, but I'll just read the ending because this is really interesting. “It is said that Prince Amadis will be seen again in the Castle of Shining Glass by one of Owain's bloodline.'"
"Billy?" said Charlie.
Paton looked over his glasses. "Maybe." He returned to the book. “And Owain traveled to the Holy Roman Empire and had two sons. The elder became a scribe — in other words, a person who wrote out documents or copied manuscripts — and the younger could speak the language of the beasts and birds. The latter was banished from his village for consorting with ravens that perched upon a gallows where dead men hung."
Charlie shivered. "Horrible. But it was mean to banish him."
"Unusual habits were considered the work of the devil in those days," said Uncle Paton. "And now for the end." He put a finger on the last paragraph. "The first son of Owain was called Crowquill in that he used such for his work. And these words, being the truth to the best of my knowledge, were written down by a descendant of that Crowquill, in the year of our Lord, 1655."
"So . . .," said Charlie thoughtfully, "they were connected even then — the Ravens and the Crowquills. There are so many strange things going on in this city, Uncle P."
"Indeed," said his uncle.
"It's as if the city is drawing them all back, all the people whose stories began right here, on the ground under our feet, under all the houses and streets and parks."
"Even this house," added Paton.
"Even us. Like threads being pulled tighter and tighter together."
How eloquent you're becoming, Charlie," said Uncle Paton with a smile.
"Today," Charlie went on, "I went into a flower shop, and the woman there knew my name. And she was really interested in my friend Olivia. But Livvy would hardly come into the shop. She said the woman knew more about her than she did herself."
"Is this girl endowed?"
"No, not in the least. But she's a brilliant actress. Only she just failed an audition and she's really — I can't describe it — she's kind of different, desperate, furious!"
"Sounds l
ike trouble, Charlie. Desperate women can be dangerous."
"Can they?" Charlie yawned in spite of himself. "Thanks for reading me the book, Uncle P. It's been like putting things in a frame, so you can begin to see them better. I wonder what's going to happen next."
"I wonder, Charlie," said Uncle Paton. "I wonder." He closed the book and pushed it carefully into one of the cubbyholes on his desk. "You'd better find that wand before it gets into the wrong hands."
Charlie was thinking that perhaps it already had.
THE WHITE MOTH
Manfred Bloor was losing his power. He'd been aware of it for a year now, ever since Charlie Bone had managed to resist him. Charlie had conjured up pictures of his lost father, a man whom Manfred had found easy to hypnotize when he was nine years old. When Manfred was nine, he had been at the height of his powers; now they were waning.
No one had guessed what was happening to him. Manfred was still capable of scaring children when he gave them a nasty glare. And the horse experiment had almost restored his confidence, since it was his part in the procedure that had been the most successful. Or had it been? Maybe it had been Venetia Yewbeam's foul-smelling potions that had done the trick.
Another thing. Where was the horse now? And how were they going to control it? Manfred was secretly fearful of that "undead" horse and its brutal heart. He needed something to protect himself.
It was easy to persuade Billy Raven to steal Charlie's wand. Afraid that his one chance of happiness might be snatched away at the last minute, Billy had found the wand and handed it over.
A lot of good it had done little Billy He was now trapped in the Passing House, and the kind parents he had longed for were nothing more than coldhearted villains with extremely unpleasant powers.
"Oh, what a Silly Billy," Manfred chanted as he paced around his office, twirling the slim white stick. "And now for the test. What are you going to do for me, little stick?" He noticed a fly crawling across his desk and touched it with the wand's silver tip. "Turn into a frog," he demanded.
Manfred felt a sharp sting on his palm and he dropped the wand. The fly was still a fly It flew up to the ceiling where it stayed, upside down and very still. Manfred had a bad feeling it was laughing at him.
