by C. J. Busby
Olivia took a deep breath and jumped. As she emerged from the wall, there was a loud pop! and she landed sprawled on the floor, arms and legs flailing, completely human.
Caradoc turned round instantly and had his hand over her mouth before she even had time to yell. She struggled, trying to tell him he was a lousy, rotten slimeball, but his grip was firm. He leant his face close to hers and whispered urgently, “Not a sound, Olivia, if you value your life!”
She stopped struggling and looked at him, wide-eyed. How did he know her name? Or that she was really a girl? What was going on?
Caradoc released his grip slightly and then, when she made no sound, nodded.
“Good. Now perhaps you’d better tell me what you’re doing here.”
Olivia looked at him angrily. “I’m not telling you anything. You’re working for that evil witch. And when Merlin gets here I hope he turns you into a dung beetle!”
Caradoc laughed and clapped Olivia on the back. “Well said! But I’m not working for Morgana, I’m working for Merlin.”
“Merlin!” said Olivia in surprise. “But – we saw you, you were here, in her chambers, plotting!”
Caradoc frowned. “So you heard that, did you? Well, yes, I was here, apparently plotting. I have been doing my best to win my Lady Morgana’s trust. But I am still in the outer circle. I am still a long way from knowing the whole plot. Which is why I am here, just now, while she is away.”
“Me too,” said Olivia. “But how come I got changed back into a girl? I was a rat, in the walls…”
“Ah, well, the chamber is enchanted,” said Caradoc. “It strips away all magic spells from those who enter. It did the same to me.” He smiled ruefully. “I’d used some potion Merlin gave me to become a sparrow. You probably heard the noise as I was changed back and fell off the window ledge.”
Olivia grinned. “So that was what that crash was. Well, I suppose at least it’s easier to search her room with hands rather than wings. Have you found anything?”
Caradoc shook his head. “No. But I think if there is anything, it will be in this cupboard here. It has a peculiar lockspell on it, I was trying to disentangle it when you arrived.” He moved towards the cupboard, which was tall and narrow, with dark, carved oak doors.
“Are you a wizard, then, as well as a bard?” asked Olivia.
Caradoc laughed. “Oh, a little bit of a wizard, and a little bit of a bard. And – a little bit of a knight,” he said, and touched his finger to the side of his long crooked nose. “But mostly whatever Merlin wants me to be, whatever is most useful. My true name is not Caradoc. But – perhaps that had better stay my name for now. Caradoc the Bard, as always, at your service, my lady,” and he swept her an elaborate bow.
Olivia made a face. “I’m not a lady. I’m a squire. And I’m going to be a knight, too.”
“So you are,” said Caradoc, gravely. “I had forgotten.”
He turned back to the cupboard, and passed his hands across the front with a strange flourish. “There. It’s undone. Now, let’s have a look, shall we?”
He carefully opened both tall narrow doors and they peered inside. There were several shelves, all crammed with pots and potion bottles and flasks in every colour of glass so that it looked like a cupboard full of jewels. In the middle were three small drawers, and Caradoc, after a glance at the potion bottles, pulled the drawers out one after the other. They were filled with rolls of creamy parchment, tied with ribbons and attached to small packets of brightly coloured powders. One was loose, placed carelessly on the top of the pile as if it had been discarded there only recently. Olivia and Caradoc exchanged glances, and he pulled open the parchment and started to read.
“Well, well – a replica spell… A cunning thing indeed. So that is how they will do it,” he muttered. “This might come in useful.” He pulled a piece of parchment and a quill out of what seemed like thin air and started to copy down the spell. He also took a few grains of the powder and carefully placed them in a twist of paper. Then he rolled up the original, put it back in the cupboard and again passed his hands across the front, remaking the lockspell. He stood for a few seconds, thinking, and then shook his head and turned to Olivia.
“We need to go. The Spell School will finish soon, and it wouldn’t do to be found anywhere near these rooms. But I think we need to talk, you and Max and I. We definitely need to talk.”
***
Caradoc was right – the Spell School was just about to finish. By the time they got down to Max and Olivia’s room, there was only time for Olivia to dig out some oatcakes and a bottle of spiced apple juice and put them on a small table before Max burst into the room looking cross.
“What’s he doing here?” he asked, when he saw Caradoc sitting happily munching an oatcake. “Who invited him?”
“I did,” said Olivia firmly – and pulled up another chair for Max. “Sit down. We need to have a meeting. Caradoc’s on our side – he’s working for Merlin.”
“Merlin?” said Max, falling into the chair and looking extremely surprised. “What? But how?”
Ferocious poked his nose out of Max’s tunic and looked at Caradoc. “Ah well, last to know anything, as usual. Glad it’s Max as well and not just me this time. I suppose it must have been you who rolled the stone away from the cave last night, then?”
“Er, yes, it was,” admitted Caradoc sheepishly. “Sorry you had to wait such a long time. I had to go back there after I’d returned to the castle with Adrian Hogsbottom.”
“Snotty,” said Max, automatically.
“Sorry?” said Caradoc.
“No – Snotty,” said Olivia. “It’s his name. Adrian’s name. It’s really Snotty.”
“I see,” said Caradoc, and nodded. “Yes, I can see that it would be. Excellent. I won’t make that mistake again.” He grinned. “Right then – how much do you both know?”
“First,” said Olivia. “We need to ask you – what does this Cauldron of Annwn look like? Because Great-Aunt Wilhelmina – that’s the big dragon – she gave one to Max.”
Caradoc’s eyes widened; he sat up very straight.
“She gave Max a cauldron? Gave it to him?”
“Yes,” said Max. “In exchange for us turning her small so she could get out of the cave.”
Caradoc looked very excited. “Then – it might be – I can’t believe it! Max, is it small, and black, with a row of pearls round the edge?”
Max and Olivia looked at each other, and Olivia groaned.
“It is! It is the one! But Max took it to the Spell School today. Morgana must have seen it – and she’s bound to have recognised it!”
“Is this true?” said Caradoc urgently. “Did she see it?”
Max paused, as they both looked at him anxiously, and then grinned.
“No. She didn’t see it. Because I didn’t take it. Adolphus was asleep with his head inside it and I didn’t have the heart to wake him up. So I took the old one and instead of turning water into ink I turned it into jam. So I got a D. Which is why I was cross. But the cauldron is over there – by the fireplace.”
They turned to look – and there it was, battered, dull and entirely ordinary-looking, lying on its side with Adolphus’s long blue-green body spilling out of it and the sound of dragon snores coming from inside. As they looked, there was a snuffle, and then a cough and then a sleepy-eyed Adolphus poked his head out and said:
“Hello! Is it morning?”
They heaved Adolphus out of the way, and Caradoc knelt down and examined the cauldron, turning it this way and that and squinting at the faded pearls.
“Yes,” he said at last. “It’s definitely the right one. What an amazing piece of luck. Or maybe – I don’t know. They’re wily creatures, old dragons. Maybe she had an inkling…” He looked hard at Max and then smiled. “Whatever the reason, here it is. And now – we can get to work.”
He took out the spell he’d copied from Morgana and waved it in front of them.
“A r
eplica spell. It can make an exact copy of any object you have in front of you. That’s why they need the cauldron. Not to give it to Arthur, but to make a copy – so Arthur will go to Annwn on his chivalrous quest, thinking he has the treasure and that he’ll be able to use it as payment to return.”
“But how are they planning to make him go to Annwn in the first place?” said Max.
“I don’t know,” said Caradoc. “Some scheme or other. Now we know, it shouldn’t be too hard for him to find a way out of it. But if we can make them think they are safe, if we can make them think their plans are going perfectly – then maybe they will overstretch themselves. Maybe Lady Morgana will finally show Arthur her true face. Maybe we can catch them red-handed… And for that, we need them to think they have the real cauldron.”
He unfolded the twist of paper he had taken from Morgana’s room and scattered some grains of powder over the cauldron as he started to mutter the words of the spell. Then he took hold of the sides of the cauldron and started to pull his hands away, chanting as he did so. Before long, Max and Olivia could see a second cauldron, identical to the first, slowly forming in his hands; it was as if he were pulling a second copy out of the original, more and more of it emerging, until with a faint pop! the two separated – and there they were: two dusty black worn-looking cauldrons, each with a faint rim of pearls at the edge.
“Er – which one is the real one?” said Max, looking from one to the other.
“Hard to tell,” said Caradoc, with a gleam in his eye. “Which do you think?”
Max looked from one to the other, and then grasped hold of them both. They looked identical, and they almost felt exactly the same, too – but when you held them at the same time, there was just the faintest hint of coldness from one, the slightest buzz of hidden magics from the other.
“This one,” said Max, tapping it.
“Is indeed the Cauldron of Annwn,” said Caradoc approvingly. “You have quite a gift for magic, Max – many full wizards could not tell the difference, even with the cauldrons right next to each other.”
Max went slightly pink and tried not to look too pleased, while Olivia rolled her eyes.
“Yes, well, Max, we all know you’re a genius. Try not to let your head swell too much or you won’t be able to fit through the castle gatehouse.”
Caradoc laughed. He picked up the false cauldron, wrapped it in his cloak, and started to head out of the door.
“How are you going to get it to Morgana?” asked Max.
“Oh, I think we’ll let… ah… Snotty discover it at the dragon’s hoard, shall we?” he said.
***
Max sat by the fire that evening, the creamy parchment of Merlin’s swift spread out in front of him, a quill in his hand. They’d agreed he would let Merlin know all they had found out so far: that there was a plot to get Arthur to go on a quest to Annwn with a false cauldron so he would be unable to return; that he, Max, had the real cauldron and that Caradoc would be making sure Morgana got the copy. He wished he had more detail to give Merlin, but it would have to do; he said the words of the spell, released the swift, and it soared out of the window and into the night.
Despite Caradoc’s certainty, Max still couldn’t quite believe that his cauldron was the Treasure of Annwn, that it came from the Otherworld. He looked at it and sighed. He wouldn’t be able to use it for the rest of the Spell School, anyway, and that meant struggling on with his old one. Caradoc had done some magical repairs on it, and it was looking a little less lopsided, but Max didn’t hold out much hope.
He was going to fail the Spell School for sure.
Morgana’s Magic
Max’s lessons the next day were interrupted by the sudden appearance of Snotty Hogsbottom, looking like he’d just discovered a magic cauldron in a pile of dragon’s gold. Max smiled to himself as he stirred his sparkling blue potion (Caradoc’s repair spells seemed to be holding up). He watched Snotty’s dark head bending over close to Morgana’s own, and saw the look of triumph that flitted across her face. She looked up at the class and waved for silence.
“I’m afraid some pressing business has come up, so, sadly, I will have to leave you for the rest of the day,” she announced sweetly. “I shall send for Aleric to take over. Keep stirring, and – Max – do try to make sure your potion is a little more accurate this time…”
She gave him an icy smile, and Max looked back stonily. Then, with a dismissive wave of her hand, she swept out, with Snotty, looking smug, following behind.
Max went back to stirring, wondering what they would be doing. Making a copy of the copy, he supposed. Caradoc had told him that the spell could be used again and again, but that none of the copies would have the magic of the original, only its external appearance. Max was glad about that. Morgana’s spells were strong enough, without any extra help from a powerful Otherworld cauldron. He ground a few more grains of dried woodlouse spit and added them to the spell, watching for the characteristic red colour that would tell him it was working. He noticed Aleric enter the room and wondered if he’d take over for the rest of the Spell School while Morgana put her plans in place. There were still five more days before Arthur was due to arrive. Plenty of time for her to set her trap – but plenty of time, too, for them to find out what it was, and hopefully get enough evidence to prove to Arthur once and for all that she was an evil scheming witch.
Max’s potion turned bright red, and he grinned. Things were looking up. They were definitely looking up.
But Max didn’t have much time to gloat. As they all transferred their potions to waiting bottles, Aleric came up and tapped him on the shoulder.
“Ah, Max. Lady Morgana expressly asked that you show her your potion when the class was over. She said you made such a mess of it yesterday that she wanted to be quite sure you’d got it right this time. I must say, I’m surprised. You were doing splendidly last week.”
Max frowned. He was pretty sure his potion had gone fine today, but he really didn’t want to have to put it to the test under Morgana’s icy glare. Still – he brightened – maybe he’d get a chance to see or hear something useful.
“Okay,” he said, packing up carefully. “Where should I take it?”
“She said she’d be down in the wine cellar, sorting out something to do with King Arthur’s visit.”
Better and better, thought Max. I really might get a chance to find something out. But Ferocious wasn’t happy.
“Are you sure this is a good idea, Max? Going to meet Morgana le Fay in a dark part of the castle where no one can hear you scream?”
Max rolled his eyes. “She won’t do anything, Ferocious. She’s got King Arthur to worry about. She’s not going to bother with me just when they’ve got the cauldron and their plans are all working out.”
But Ferocious had a funny feeling about the whole thing. Just as Max reached the cellar door, the rat jumped down out of his belt pouch and slipped behind an old wine barrel. And it was just as well he did. Because the moment Max got through the door, he was hit by a sprinkling of Snotty’s special immobility spell, and he toppled face first onto the hard cellar floor while his cauldron, bags and books went flying.
***
Max had always thought that Morgana le Fay was an extremely scary witch. Watching her now, silhouetted against flickering spell light, her arms wide and crackling with magic, her pale face focused on the cauldron in front of her, he realised that he had never fully understood how powerful she was. Max was strapped to a chair in the middle of the cellar. He had been tied up by Snotty, who had then removed the immobility spell and laughed nastily as Max tried to struggle out of his bonds.
“Don’t bother, Pendragon. The more you pull, the tighter they’ll get.”
Morgana had now brought her cauldron up to the perfect temperature and was adding the last-minute ingredients to her spell. As she scattered some silvery dust into the bubbling mixture, she turned to Max with a honey-sweet smile.
“My dear Max – so good
of you, so obliging of you to come and show your potion to me. Pity it got spilled when you dived so enthusiastically to the floor, but never mind… You won’t be needing it where you’re going.”
Max tried to look as nonchalant as possible, but he couldn’t help wondering what she meant. Where was he going?
“We thought you’d like to take a little trip, Adrian and I,” she explained. “We felt it would be a nice little reward for interfering in our plans last month in Camelot. And it suits us perfectly, because we’re rather hoping a certain person will feel obliged to rescue you.” She laughed, and her laughter was like glass shattering on the stone floor.
Max’s heart sank. All the spying they’d done, all the bits of the plot they’d found out, and they’d completely missed the really important bit. The trap that would send Arthur to the land of Annwn. It was him! He was the bait! They were going to send him to Annwn and then King Arthur would have to rescue him. Max was so cross with himself for being such an idiot that he didn’t have any spare energy for being scared. If only he’d listened to Ferocious. If only he’d thought before trotting down to the cellar, hoping he might find out something important. He’d found out the rest of the plot, all right, but it wasn’t going to do him much good, trussed up like a chicken and about to be magicked to the Otherworld.
Morgana lifted up her arms and started to chant the spell. Her hair flared around her face and writhed like snakes. Her eyes were icy blue, so cold Max felt himself freeze under their glance. Her face was pale and terrible. She stretched out her arms towards Max and called out in a harsh voice as she threw a sparkling drop of spell at him. Time seemed to slow down as Max watched the droplet arc across the space between them. But then there was a sudden commotion, the door slammed open, and a figure threw herself into the room and straight at Max. It was Olivia, and he barely had time to register her terrified face before the droplet landed on her outstretched hand and she disappeared like a light winking out.
