by Jenny Nimmo
A sudden shriek ripped through the dormitory. Charlie whispered, "Good-bye," and the words began to fade.
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"What was that?" cried Rupe Small. "It was horrible."
By now the whole room was awake.
"The wall was covered in - in stuff - animals or something," said Rupe. "Charlie Bone was talking to it."
"Urgh!" "What?" "Yuck!" "Trust Charlie Bone!" came from one side of the dormitory.
"Shut up and go to sleep," said Fidelio. "You were having a nightmare, Rupe."
"I WAS NOT!"
The door opened and Lucretia Yewbeam's tall shadow fell across the room. She turned on the light. "What's going on?" she demanded.
Rupe pointed at Charlie. "There was stuff all over the wall and he was talking to it."
The matron's eyes narrowed. "What was it, this stuff?"
"Nothing, Matron," said Charlie.
"I saw it," said Bragger Braine. "It disappeared when Charlie whispered to it."
"It was just flies," said Charlie. "I don't know where they came from."
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"Don't lie," said his great-aunt. "There are no flies. It's winter. They're all dead."
To this, Charlie could find no answer.
The matron walked over to Charlie's bed and stared down at him. "It's always you, isn't it? Keeping other people awake, disturbing their sleep. I don't know what you were doing and I don't really care. It's detention for you, Charlie Bone. You'll spend half your weekend in school."
"But I can't," Charlie protested. "My grandmother's ill."
"Your grandmother is perfectly well," said the matron, walking away.
"No, not your sister. Not Grandma Bone. I mean Maisie, my other grandmother."
"Oh, her," the matron said carelessly. "What's the matter with her?"
"She er... c-caught a cold," stuttered Charlie.
"A cold? Hardly a matter of life and death. Go to sleep." The matron turned out the light and closed the door.
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As Charlie slid under the covers he heard something that made his heart leap. An owl hooted, and then another.
They are coming back, he thought, and at last he drifted off to sleep.
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THE HUNDRED HEDS
If Charlie had looked out his window, he would have seen an astonishing sight. The sky was crowded with birds. Their voices were silent but the air hummed with the sound of beating wings. Gradually, small groups began to swing away from the vast flock. They flew down and settled on walls, trees, fences, and buildings. Once there, they tucked their heads under their wings and fell asleep. Soon, only the owls were left awake.
Down in the city, light sleepers found themselves drawn to their windows. They were rewarded by a sight they would never forget. Lines of solemn, silent creatures moved through the city. They were led by three cats whose coats were so bright that the air around them shone with fiery colors. As they made their way along the streets, the animals began to find their homes. They bounded through windows, they walked into gardens, kennels, and stables, and
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the marveling watchers heaved a sigh of relief. The city wasn't dying after all.
The news traveled fast. By first break even the children in Bloor's Academy had heard about the great return. Laughter was heard in the cafeteria and classrooms; smiles were seen on the faces of children who had said they would never smile again. Charlie was relieved, even though some of his classmates still looked at him with suspicion.
Just when one problem had been solved, Charlie was presented with another. Detention. He was desperate to find out if Maisie had melted, and he also felt he should be at home to watch over his mother.
At lunchtime, Charlie found Billy in the cafeteria eating one of Cook's new specialties. Potato hedgehogs.
"They're not really hedgehogs," Billy said gravely. "It's just that they've got these nice crispy tips."
While Cook was serving Charlie, she said quietly, "I hear the animals are back."
Charlie nodded. "The Flames brought them. But I've got detention this weekend, so..."
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"What?" Cook lowered her ladle. "You can't have." She looked very surprised.
Charlie was about to ask why, when behind him, Gabriel said, "I'm dying of hunger. Move on, Charlie."
Charlie took his plate of hedgehogs to Billy's table. In a few minutes, Fidelio and Gabriel had joined them.
"Do you know what's happening this weekend?" Billy asked the others.
"I've got detention," said Charlie.
"No, I didn't mean that." Billy squared his shoulders and said importantly, "It's the Hundred Heads' dinner on Friday and the Grand Ball on Saturday. I heard Dr. Bloor reminding Matron about it. He was angry because she'd given you detention, Charlie, and he didn't want any children in the building. But Matron said it was against her principles to take back detentions. And Dr. Bloor walked off in a huff. He said she'd have to keep you out of the way. I expect he meant me too because I'll be here if you are, won't I, Charlie?"
Charlie felt quite out of breath when Billy finally came to a halt.
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Gabriel said, "Billy, I've never heard you say so much all at one time."
Fidelio asked, "So what are the Hundred Heads' dinner and the Grand Ball?"
"Well," began Billy, "I found out a bit more from Manfred."
"From Manfred)." said the others in shocked voices.
"He likes to feel important, so I thought he'd be very happy to tell me," said Billy, "and he was. He said every ten years there's a reunion. Head teachers from a hundred other academies come here to talk about their pupils and things."
"What other academies?" said Charlie.
"Where all the other endowed children go," said Billy.
"There are others?" said Charlie in surprise. "Of course, there would be," Gabriel said thoughtfully. "When you think about it, there must be hundreds of children like us, all over the world. I mean, the Red King had ten children and if they all had children, nine hundred years ago..."
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"Wow!" Charlie's mouth dropped open. "Am I stupid, or what! They couldn't all come to Bloor's, could they? Not if they lived in China or Africa."
"Or Scotland, or Ireland," said Fidelio.
"Phew! I just never thought." Charlie shook his head in wonderment.
They dug into their hedgehogs, each one of them thinking about those other academies, other children, and other head teachers.
"I'm going to get into that Hundred Heads' dinner somehow," said Charlie. "There's a lot I want to find out."
"Me, too," said Billy.
Charlie gulped down his last lump of hedgehog and smiled. The weekend wasn't going to be so bad, after all. Perhaps his mother had found the vervain, and when he got home Maisie would be her old self again.
The pupils at Bloor's Academy were left in no doubt that a momentous event was about to take place at their school. By the time Friday arrived, the ceiling of
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the great hall glittered with a thousand lanterns. Swords, crossbows, scimitars, spears, and many other impressive-looking weapons had been retrieved from chests and closets. Burnished to an awesome brightness they hung on the oak-paneled walls, where they drew gasps of terror and admiration. An army of cleaners had polished the flagstones to a slippery shine, and the children were commanded to walk only at the extreme edges.
In the dining hall, the lighting was more restrained, although it was noticed that several iron braziers had been fixed to the walls. Would they hold flaming torches? And would the impor
tant visitors be served by firelight?
Even the friendliest dinner ladies were becoming short-tempered. The extra workload was wearing them out. Throughout the day they were to be seen hurrying down hallways with trays of silverware that hadn't seen the light of day for years.
Porcelain dinner plates, crystal glasses, and golden dishes were unearthed from the cellars and carried up to the kitchens for a sparkling wash.
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Strings of white lights had been strung along the dark hallway that led from the great hall to the cafeteria and dining hall, and Charlie noticed that some of the portraits had been decorated with gold ribbon. Not all of them, however. Perhaps only those who were directly related to the honored visitors.
Charlie and Billy sat in the dormitory watching the others pack their bags. Charlie felt strangely elated. He tried to look suitably glum when Bragger Braine and Rupe Small walked to the door, with their bags slung nonchalantly over their shoulders, but he couldn't prevent a grin from curling one corner of his mouth.
"What are you smirking at?" asked Bragger.
"Rupe's bag is so heavy he looks as if he's sinking. How many cans of Sweet Petal have you got in there, Rupe?"
Some of the others giggled and Rupe cried, "Shut up!"
"Have a bad weekend, Charlie Bone," said Bragger, swaggering out with Rupe in tow.
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Gabriel and Fidelio were the last to leave. They wished Charlie good luck and promised to meet up on Sunday.
"I'll bring extra gerbils," said Gabriel, giving a final wave.
Not long after the last pupil had left the school, Lucretia Yewbeam looked into the dormitory and told Charlie and Billy they would be having an early supper. "I want you both back in here by six o'clock," she said. "Lights-out at seven, and neither of you are to leave this room until breakfast time."
"Lights-out at seven?" Charlie complained. "Why?"
"Why do you think? It's a punishment. Now clean yourselves up. Supper's in the cafeteria at half past five." With-a grim smile the matron swept out.
When the boys went looking for Cook, they found her in the kitchen, in quite a state. Frantic assistants kept moving around her while she rushed from the giant ovens to the cold room and back again, mumbling, "A hundred this, a hundred that, turtle soup, pigeon pies, beef this and that. No meat for him,
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no cream for her... Without looking up, she went on, "Hello, boys, it's only baked beans and toast for you, I'm afraid. Here it comes."
Cook shared a saucepan of beans between two plates of buttered toast, and put them on a tray with two bowls of custard.
"What time does the dinner begin?" Charlie asked.
"Half past seven and I'll never be ready."
A cluster of frantic assistants ran up to Cook and she waved the boys away. "Sorry, my loves, got to keep going."
Charlie carried the tray into the cafeteria and put it on a table farthest from the counter. The noise from the kitchen was so loud the boys couldn't even hear their own thoughts. They wolfed down their suppers and left the cafeteria as soon as they could.
Back in the dormitory they changed into their pajamas and crept along to the landing above the hall. Lying flat on their stomachs, they peered between the railings down into the great hall. It was a place they barely recognized.
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Brilliantly illuminated by the thousand lanterns, a sea of people moved slowly around the hall. Most of the visitors wore tuxedos and gowns, but there were also men in turbans, some in gold-encrusted capes and others in rainbow-colored blazers. There were a few white robes to be seen, and one man was dressed from head to toe in purple silk, with a jeweled scabbard attached to his belt. Women in saris chatted to others in kimonos, and people in bright national costumes leaned forward eagerly, trying to understand one another's languages.
Mr. Ezekiel, in a black velvet coat and a red skullcap, wheeled himself through the throng, while everlasting sparklers hissed and crackled from the back of his chair, causing some of the guests to leap away, sucking their burned arms and knuckles.
Waitresses in short black dresses and white caps and aprons threaded their way through the crowd, bearing large dishes of bite-size snacks, while waiters in red-and-gold vests carefully balanced trays of bubbling champagne.
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At the bottom of the staircase, a harpist in a flowing pink gown ran her fingers across the strings of a giant gold harp. The gentle sound rose and fell at intervals between the buzz of conversation.
Billy put his head close to Charlie's and whispered, "Only the wicked ones stayed here."
"What are you talking about?" Charlie whispered back.
"The Red King. His good children left their father's castle forever. Some even left the country. So the people down there, well, maybe the ones from abroad, are descended from the good children."
It hadn't occurred to Charlie, but now he watched the faces below more intently. Was it his imagination, or did most of the people in tuxedos and gowns wear guarded expressions? And surely they looked more grim and determined than the others. The majority of the foreigners looked friendly and relaxed. They smiled more readily and even laughed.
Charlie suddenly remembered to look at his watch. It was five minutes to seven. He nudged Billy's arm.
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"Matron'll be in the dorm in five minutes. As soon as she's gone, we'll run down to the dining hall and find somewhere to hide before the dinner begins."
They crawled away from the landing and raced back to the dormitory. A minute after they had leaped into their beds, the door opened and Matron looked in. She was quite a sight in her long emerald-green evening dress, with green earrings that practically touched her shoulders. Her gray-white hair had been pulled on top of her head and decorated with an enormous green bow. "Lights-out," she said coldly. "And in case either of you takes it into his head to go wandering, please remember your next punishment will be far worse than this one."
"Yes, Matron," Charlie meekly replied. He thought it rather unfair that Billy should be included in his punishment, but decided not to mention it.
The matron turned out the light, but before she closed the door, she said, "Don't tell your great-aunt how lovely she looks, or anything."
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"No, Aunt," said Charlie "I mean..."
She slammed the door.
Charlie listened to her receding footfalls. "She won't be back," he said. "Not looking like that."
"I bet she's out to catch a nice, rich head teacher." Billy giggled.
They waited another five minutes and then jumped into their slippers, crept along to the back staircase, and down to the ground floor. Now they were in the hallway that ran past the cafeterias and down into the underground dining hall. Keeping to the shadows they had almost reached the dining hall when one of the waitresses backed out of the green kitchen. She was pulling a cart laden with dinner plates.
The boys shrank against the wall but she had seen them. "Hello, boys," she said, eyeing their pajamas. "What are you doing here?"
"We came down for some water," Charlie said quickly. "We were so thirsty and we're not supposed
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to drink from the sinks upstairs, because the pipes are rusty - or something."
"Poor boys. Go on in and help yourselves." She nodded at the cafeteria door.
"Thanks!" Charlie gave her his best smile. But no way was he going into the green kitchen where the porter's wife, Mrs. Weedon, held sway. She was mean, short-tempered, and a terrible cook, and she would probably get her husband to drag the boys back to their dormitory.
The waitress wheeled her cart past them and up to the blue cafeteria. "Wrong plates," she gru
mbled. "What a palaver."
As soon as her back was turned, the boys dashed along to the dining hall. They were about to slip through the doors when Billy said, "Where are we going to hide?"
"Under a table," Charlie said.
"But - they might see us."
Charlie didn't want to think about that. He opened the door a fraction and peeked inside. What luck!
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Every table was covered with a huge white cloth that hung almost to the floor.
A waitress was busily arranging the glasses on Dr. Bloor's top table, but the other three tables were already laid. Silver cards, printed with names, sat on red velvet place mats, and each mat was surrounded by more knives, forks, spoons, and glasses than Charlie had time to count.
The fiery braziers gave every shining surface a dangerous orange glow, and even from the door, Charlie could feel waves of heat from the leaping flames.
Choosing a moment when the waitress's back was turned, Charlie whispered, "Let's go. Now!"
Bending low, the boys half ran, half crept toward the middle table and slithered under the cloth. A terrible smell hit Charlie's nostrils and he saw, to his horror, that Blessed had chosen the same hiding place.
It was too late to change tables. A door beside the platform opened and two waiters bustled in with carts of hot food.
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Under the table, Blessed ran up to Billy, whining softly.
"Tell him to be quiet," whispered Charlie, "or he'll give us away."
Billy gave several soft grunts, and Blessed lay beside him, thumping his hairless tail.
"What's that?" said one of the waiters.
Billy puffed, almost soundlessly, into Blessed's ear and the thumping stopped.
"Probably a rat," said the other waiter.
The first one laughed. "Hope it bites someone's ankle. I'm fed up with this job. I've been here since six o'clock this morning, and the pay's rotten."
"They're a mean bunch," his companion agreed.
The two waiters made so much noise transferring food from their carts onto the tables, Charlie and Billy were able to crawl, undetected, toward the platform. Charlie wanted to be in a good position to hear what was said at the top table.
