Archie Greene and the Alchemist's Curse

by D D Everest

  ‘Last, but by no means least, I want to talk to you about security. When it was first suggested that the book fayre be held in Oxford, the elders agreed that we would allow members of the magical community not affiliated with the museum onto these premises.

  ‘For the duration of the fayre, the door ray will be open to allow those without firemarks to enter. We must remain on our guard. In recent weeks, there has been a sharp increase in reported Greader activity.’ She paused. ‘There was another attack this week – in Prague.’

  There were concerned murmurs from the apprentices. Graves held up her hand for silence.

  ‘Be assured that although the door ray will not be functioning in its normal way, there will be alternative security measures in place. Please be vigilant at all times.

  ‘Now, enjoy the fayre, everyone!’

  *

  Archie was making his way out of the function room when he felt a hand on his arm. He turned to see Graves looking at him intently.

  ‘Archie, a quick word,’ she said. ‘You too, Thistle.’

  She steered the two boys to one side.

  ‘It’s come to my attention that you have received a very unusual firemark. May I see?’

  Before Archie could reply, she took his hand firmly in hers and examined it.

  ‘Geoffrey’s right,’ she said. ‘It’s the Golden Circle. And you have one, too, Thistle?’

  Thistle nodded.

  Graves looked pensive. ‘Well, there’s nothing we can do about it now. But report to me first thing Monday. Until then, please keep this to yourselves. We don’t want to alarm the other apprentices.’

  *

  Both boys were thoughtful on the way home. The strange firemark was weighing on their minds. As soon as Archie got back to 32 Houndstooth Road, he went straight upstairs to their bedroom and took out an old shoebox that he kept under the bed. In it were some of his father’s old things that Loretta had kept for him, including some magical reference books. Archie’s father, Alex Greene, had worked at the museum in the Lost Books Department, but had been forced to leave when he was accused of stealing a book from Arthur Ripley. Archie had only vague memories of him because both his parents and his sister had disappeared shortly after Archie was born.

  Archie sifted through the box until he found a book called Magical Greats: The Good, the Bad and the Ugly. It was a catalogue of all the most famous and infamous magical books and magicians.

  He flicked through the book until he found the entry he was looking for.

  The Alchemists’ Club: a group of seventeenth-century alchemists led by Fabian Grey. Like all magic writers, the members of the Alchemists’ Club were marked with the Golden Circle firemark, which they adopted as their symbol. The Golden Circle is one of the three requirements for writing new magic, the other two being the ink, made from the magical substance azoth, and an enchanted quill, made from a feather given freely by a magical creature. Grey and his associates set out to rewrite the master spells in the great books of magic. But their magical experiments started the Great Fire of London and led to the introduction of the Lores of Magical Restraint.

  Underneath was the Golden Circle symbol that was on Archie’s hand.

  He read the entry again.

  At his old school he’d been taught that the Great Fire of London had started at a bakery in Pudding Lane. But he knew now that this was the Unready version of history, which left out anything to do with magic.

  He examined the mark on his hand again. Something was gnawing away at the back of his mind. He had definitely seen the symbol somewhere before. If only he could remember where!

  3

  The Magical Book Fayre

  Archie’s hand was itching the next morning, but he was determined not to let it spoil his enjoyment of the book fayre.

  As they walked into the city centre, Loretta was explaining that magical fayres had been commonplace in England right up until the seventeenth century.

  ‘So now the International Magical Book Fayre is the only one in the world,’ concluded Loretta. ‘All the others were banned by the 1666 Lores of Magical Restraint.’

  ‘It’s ridiculous banning the fayres!’ growled Woodbine, as they passed the Aisle of White and crossed the courtyard towards Quill’s. ‘It just drives the trade in magical books underground. It’s almost as daft as banning the use of magic outside of magical premises. How are we supposed to defend ourselves from Greader attacks if we can’t use the magic that’s in the books?’

  ‘Those poor people in Prague,’ he added, shaking his head. ‘We don’t even know who they were. They were sitting ducks. It’s disgraceful. The Magical League should be ashamed of itself.’

  Loretta shot Woodbine an anxious glance. ‘Now, now, Woodbine, that’s quite enough rabble-rousing from you. Keep your voice down. The Lore is the Lore, whether we agree with it or not,’ she added in a hushed tone.

  Archie had never heard his uncle and aunt talk like this before. He had assumed they were both staunch supporters of the Lores and the magical authorities that enforced them. But he was beginning to realise there were different points of view within the magical realm.

  As they joined the line waiting to get into Quill’s, Archie was still thinking about what Woodbine had said. It seemed to him that his uncle was right. How could they defend the museum against a Greader attack if they were forbidden to use magic? The Greaders took no notice of the Lores. They used magic if they thought they could get away with it.

  He remembered his own close shave with the Greader Barzak. He had encountered the warlock inside the museum, where magic was sanctioned, and had been able to use his book-whispering talents to defeat him. But what if they had met outside the museum? What would have happened then?

  It was a chilling thought. If Woodbine had arrived in Prague in time to save the two people who had been murdered, would his uncle have followed the letter of the Lore, or would he have used magic to defend himself? Archie had another thought: did book whispering count as doing magic? He supposed it had to, even though he had no control over it.

  Perhaps it was time to start trusting people with magic again. Maybe the Golden Circle firemarks were a sign that the time to lift the Lores was approaching?

  He was still pondering this when they reached Quill’s. A blackboard propped up against the wall said: PRIVATE FUNCTION. CLOSED TO THE PUBLIC. This meant that the only people coming in and out of Quill’s would be from the magical realm. At least they wouldn’t have to worry about the Unready blundering into the fayre by mistake.

  A man with a clipboard was standing just inside the front door to Quill’s. Tall, with a stoop and a permanent scowl on his face, his name was Dr Aurelius Rusp, and he was one of Archie’s least favourite people.

  Archie wasn’t alone in disliking him. The other apprentices tried to avoid Rusp if they could. Ever since he’d discovered a fire in the museum twelve years earlier, Rusp had become a real grouch. Sometimes, though, he helped out Gideon Hawke in Lost Books. On one occasion this had included spying on Archie.

  Pink was standing by the door ray.

  ‘Hello, Pink,’ said Bramble. ‘How’s it going?’

  ‘Fine. But I wish he’d lighten up,’ she said, flicking her eyes to where Rusp was glowering at everyone who entered the café.

  Bramble raised her eyebrows. ‘Why’s he here?’

  ‘Extra security,’ said Pink. ‘Just for the fayre. The Royal Society of Magic insisted on it.’

  Rusp watched them intently, his fingers drumming impatiently on his clipboard.

  Loretta went to go through the door ray, but Rusp put out an arm to stop her. ‘Name?’ he demanded.

  Loretta looked at him in disbelief. ‘Really, Aurelius, I’ve known you for thirty years!’

  ‘It’s my job to keep a record of everyone who goes in and out,’ Rusp growled. ‘Name?’ he demanded again.

  Loretta gave him a dark look that she had perfected over many years of parenting.

  ‘Lo
retta Foxe,’ she snapped. ‘And this is my husband, Woodbine, my son and daughter, Thistle and Bramble, and my nephew, Archie – all of whom you know perfectly well!’

  Rusp wrote down their names. ‘Can’t be too careful,’ he muttered darkly. ‘There could be Greaders about.’

  Loretta gave Pink an exasperated look.

  Pink looked embarrassed. ‘Go ahead, Loretta,’ she said.

  With a toss of her head, Loretta stepped through the door ray, followed by the other three Foxes.

  Archie was about to follow when he spotted Arabella Ripley entering Quill’s. Arabella had started her apprenticeship at the same time as him and was the granddaughter of Arthur Ripley, the infamous Greader.

  Archie and Arabella had got off to a bad start, but she had tried to help him when he was in trouble and had saved the life of the museum’s magical diviner, Wolfus Bone, from a dark magic attack.

  Arabella was with her mother, Veronica Ripley, and as usual she looked bored. Peter Quiggley, another apprentice who had started at the same time as Archie, was also there with his parents. Two very tall women, one with red hair and the other with black hair, had entered just behind them.

  The woman with black hair was carrying a white stick with an ornate handle.

  ‘Is there a queue, sister?’ she asked. ‘What’s causing the hold-up?’

  ‘It’s a man taking names,’ said the redheaded woman.

  ‘A man, sister?’ said the first woman. ‘Why ever is he doing that?’

  ‘Security, sister. He says there might be Greaders.’

  ‘It’s a disgrace!’ Archie recognised Veronica Ripley’s voice. Veronica was always complaining about something. ‘Respectable members of the magical community being harrassed like this. I won’t stand for it.’

  ‘Hurry up, Archie,’ said Pink.

  Archie stepped through the door ray, squinting as the light dazzled him. He caught the scent of roses. The next thing he knew, he was on the other side.

  He gasped in wonder at the scene that met his eyes. The back of house looked completely different. The function room was three times its normal size and looked like a cross between a medieval fayre, a circus and a jumble sale. Flags fluttered and music played, giving the place a carnival feel.

  Archie wondered who among the elders was able to perform such an impressive enchantment. There were tents of all sorts of sizes, shapes and colours. In among the tents were brightly painted stalls. Straight ahead was a larger tent like a big top.

  Woodbine appeared at his shoulder. ‘What do you think, then, young’un?’

  ‘Amazing!’ Archie breathed.

  Woodbine’s eyes gleamed. ‘The fayre is one of the main events in the magical calendar,’ he said.

  ‘I had no idea there were so many people in the magical realm,’ said Archie, looking at all the people. ‘They’re not all Flame Keepers, are they?’

  Woodbine shook his head. ‘No, but they all come from magical families. Some were apprentices at the museum and their children are, too, but others attended one of the academies of magic and probably send their children to the same place. Most of them do ordinary Unready jobs when they leave.

  ‘The lucky ones work in magic. They might be freelancers like me, or become elders at the museum. Or, if they’re especially ambitious and well connected, they might work for one of the magical authorities – the Royal Society of Magic or the Magical League. And whether they work in magic or not, they all love to come to the fayre.’

  He pointed at a flyer pinned to a noticeboard. In addition to buying and selling books, the fayre also had a whole day of events. Archie, Bramble, Thistle and Loretta gathered around, and Woodbine read out who was appearing.

  ‘Tent Number Two – at noon today – Martha Stitch: “Why Bookbinding Needn’t Be a Bind”.’

  ‘That sounds interesting,’ said Archie.

  Woodbine continued. ‘Tent Number One – at two p.m. – “Green Magic Is Clean Magic”, a talk by Rusty Gardner, author of Growing Green Fingers.

  ‘And then at four p.m. there’s a talk called “Tracing Your Magical Ancestors: Why It’s Better to Be Historical Than Hysterical” by Orpheus Gloom and Katerina Krone.’

  ‘Katerina Krone is the student I told you about,’ Bramble said.

  Woodbine scratched his head. ‘The Krones, they’re one of the old Flame-Keeping families like us.’

  He continued reading the flyer. The main attraction was happening in the big top at five p.m. – a talk entitled “Why a Magical Creature Isn’t Just for Halloween” by Maurice Dancer.

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Bramble. ‘Rupert mentioned this – he’s going to be helping.’

  Rupert Trevallen, one of the older apprentices, worked in the mythical menagerie in the Natural Magic Department. A tall, dark-haired boy, with chiselled features and a cheerful disposition, he was popular with the female apprentices. Archie suspected that Bramble was among those who had a crush on him, although she would never admit to it.

  Loretta took the children to one side. ‘Now, you three stick together,’ she said. ‘Here’s some money for lunch.’

  She lowered her voice. ‘Don’t buy any books without a stamp. And don’t show anyone those firemarks. You heard Rusp, there could be Greaders about. And after what happened in Prague …’ She covered her mouth with her hand. ‘Well, I don’t like to think about it.’

  *

  Archie, Bramble and Thistle were having a wonderful time. The fayre was full of fascinating sights, including fire-eaters, stilt walkers and fortune tellers using crystal balls and other scrying instruments to tell the future.

  Archie spotted a sign above one stall that said: THE SIREN SISTERS. WE SCRY HARDER!

  ‘I’ve heard of them,’ Bramble said. ‘Hemlock and Delphinium. They call themselves the Siren Sisters, but that’s not their real name. They work as a team. Apparently, one is a fortune smeller and the other is a fortune yeller.’

  ‘Ha! Ha!’ roared Archie. ‘Very funny!’

  ‘No, I’m serious,’ said Bramble. ‘Hemlock is blind but can tell your fortune by your scent, and Delphinium shouts out what’s going to happen.’

  Archie gave his cousin a sideways look. ‘Half the time I can’t tell whether you are making this stuff up,’ he said.

  ‘No, it’s all true,’ said Bramble with a grin.

  ‘I’ll tell you what else is true,’ Thistle interjected. ‘I’m starving! It’s been hours since we had breakfast. The Siren Sisters can wait.’

  Some of the tents were selling food and drink. One prominent banner offered MOTHER MAREK’S MUSICAL MUFFINS – CHOCOLATE THERAPY FOR ALL AGES. But Archie’s favourite was a slogan for a fizzy drink: DRINK POP UNTIL YOU POP! it said. ORIGINAL RECIPE WITH REAL TUPPENNY RICE AND TREACLE. LOW PRICES. WEASELS WELCOME!

  They bought two chocolate muffins each and sat down to eat them. The muffins played a different tune every time they took a bite. With their tummies full, they moved on to explore the other tents.

  Most of them were selling old books. The sign that caught Archie’s eye was MAGICAL MYSTERY TOURS. Underneath, it explained: ALL THE INFORMATION THAT A MAGICAL TOURIST COULD WANT.

  ‘That’s right up Thistle’s street,’ Bramble said. ‘Where is he?’

  ‘He said he was going for another of Mother Marek’s muffins,’ said Archie, looking at a dusty book. ‘Can’t say I blame him,’ he added, smiling to reveal chocolate-coloured teeth.

  ‘Well, Mum said to stay together,’ said Bramble. ‘Especially now you two have got the Golden Circle firemarks. He should know better than to wander off.’

  ‘Maybe he’s in there,’ said Archie, pointing at a sign that said: AGATHA’S EMPORIUM OF MAGICAL MEMORABILIA. ARTEFACTS AND ASTROSCOPES. ‘He loves astroscopes. We might be able to find him a birthday present.’

  Astroscopes were magical instruments, which included crystal balls, imagining glasses and other magical devices. Archie had seen some at the museum.

  They ducked inside the tent. There w
as no sign of Thistle, but there were lots of interesting astroscopes to look at. In front of them was a glass cabinet lined with a thick piece of black velvet. Various strange-looking objects had been carefully laid out.

  There was a selection of crystal balls of various sizes. Some were clear and others had a milky appearance like very large pearls or looked to be full of smoke. There were other curious objects, too, including some that resembled pocket watches in silver and bronze cases, a silver-topped walking stick and a selection of mirrors – some of them silver like normal mirrors and others made of black glass. There were also shallow silver scrying bowls used by fortune tellers.

  The stallholder, Agatha, was a short, bird-like woman with lank black hair and large grey eyes. She was wearing a green smock and had a brightly coloured shawl wrapped around her shoulders.

  ‘Hello, my dears. What can I do for you? Interested in a gift for a friend or family member?’

  ‘We’re looking for a birthday present for my cousin,’ said Archie. ‘He’s just started his apprenticeship at the museum.’

  ‘I’ve got a nice lucky charm at a reasonable price. The previous owner died suddenly, but don’t let that put you off.’

  ‘Erm, it doesn’t sound very lucky …’ mumbled Archie.

  ‘Or how about a nice crystal ball?’ suggested Agatha.

  ‘We were thinking of something a bit more … exciting,’ said Archie. ‘He likes exploring. Have you got anything like that?’

  ‘I’ve got the very thing,’ declared Agatha. ‘A curiosity compass.’ She opened the glass cabinet behind her and took out a brass instrument that looked like a pocket watch. She flicked open the lid to reveal a compass with a design of a sun on its face and a black needle.

  ‘The needle spins when it detects high concentrations of magic,’ explained Agatha. ‘Very popular with explorers for finding magical places – dragon hoards and that sort of thing.’

  ‘It’s perfect!’ exclaimed Archie. ‘We’ll take it.’