by D D Everest
First the firemarks and now the permission wall: Archie couldn’t help but think that it was all connected in some way. If only he could figure out how. He thought again about his forked fate. What was the decision he had to make?
Archie wondered how safe the museum was. The permission wall was the first line of defence, but he consoled himself that there were other spells protecting the museum from unwanted visitors. Any intruder who found a way through the wall would still have to navigate the seats of learning, a set of ancient flying chairs that transported the apprentices from Quill’s to the main museum. The seats were activated by Pink, using a set of levers disguised as drinks taps.
There were other areas of vulnerability. Archie had discovered another way into the museum, behind the blue door at the Aisle of White. There were rumours of other entrances, too, at secret locations around Oxford known only to the elders.
On the other side of the door ray, the three children were greeted by Pink, now with her trademark pink hair. She was making motion potions, the antigravity potions needed to make the seats of learning work.
‘What’s it to be?’ she asked.
‘I’ll have a shot in the dark,’ said Bramble. ‘In a choc-tail,’ she added, licking her lips. Motion potions came in lots of different flavours, and the apprentices could choose to drink them with hot chocolate as a choc-tail, or with fruit juices. A shot in the dark tasted of wild berries and citrus.
‘I’ll have the same,’ said Archie. ‘Thistle?’
Thistle consulted the menu of motion potions pinned up behind the bar. ‘I think I’ll have a wild in the woods,’ he said.
‘Coming right up,’ said Pink. ‘And which seat of learning will you be using?’
‘The box seats,’ said Bramble, ‘unless they are already taken?’ Each seat had its own history and served a different magical department. Some, like the box seats, allowed more than one apprentice to travel together.
‘They’ll be back any second,’ said Pink, lining up three glasses. She took down an old-fashioned bottle from a shelf. She poured two drops of a thick, crimson liquid into each glass, adding a few drips from a blue bottle and a drop from a black bottle to two of them, and from a bright green bottle to the other. The first two glasses gave off a thick white vapour, and the third a brown fug. Then she tipped the glasses into three tall mugs and topped them up with steaming hot chocolate.
‘Two shots in the dark,’ she said, ‘and a wild in the woods for you, Thistle.’
They collected their motion potions and crossed the room to the snugs where the seats of learning were located. Thistle was gazing around him, wide-eyed.
‘Wow! What’s that?’ he asked, pointing at what looked like the claw of a huge creature protruding from the floor. It was about a metre across and covered in waxy black leather like alligator skin. The claw was open so that its palm formed a seat that was big enough for two people.
‘That’s the Dragon’s Claw,’ said Bramble. ‘It’s one of the oldest seats of learning, but no one uses it any more. It’s got a bad reputation.’
‘Come on,’ said Archie, ushering Thistle towards a small snug on the other side of the room. ‘Pink’s waving at us; we must be next.’
The box seats were a row of ancient wooden theatre seats behind a red and gold curtain. The three cousins buckled themselves into their chairs and closed the curtain.
‘Bottoms up!’ said Archie, clinking his glass with Thistle’s.
They downed their motion potions. Archie’s fingers and toes had just begun to tingle pleasantly when the floor opened and the box seats plunged through the gap.
The next thing they knew they were hurtling through the underground passages and caverns that led to the Museum of Magical Miscellany.
Bramble swung her long legs and waved her hat every time they went around a bend, whooping with delight. Archie joined in with her. It didn’t matter how many times he rode on the seats of learning, they never ceased to amaze him. It was like the best-ever roller-coaster ride and flying all rolled into one. Sharing it with his cousins made it even more fun.
He caught sight of Thistle’s flushed face and grinned back at him. Just then the tunnel ended abruptly and they flew into the Bookery, a large cavernous space, where magical books flew around like flocks of birds.
All around them flying books swooped and soared, dodging out of their way at the last moment.
A light shone in the gloom ahead. The box seats flew towards it, descending in a series of circles and coming to a halt in a long corridor called the Happy Landing.
‘We’re here,’ said Archie, unclipping his belt and hopping out of his seat. ‘Come on. Quick.’
‘That was brilliant!’ cried Thistle, his eyes shining with excitement. ‘Even better than I expected. Can we do it again?’
‘You’ll be doing it every day,’ said Bramble, smiling. ‘And if you ever get bored of the box seats, there are lots of others to try.’
‘Come on,’ said Archie, striding along the passageway towards a tall oak door with a symbol of a flame. He pushed the door open and stepped inside.
‘The Museum of Magical Miscellany!’ he declared.
‘Mothballs!’ exclaimed Thistle breathlessly, his eyes growing even bigger. ‘I can’t believe I’m finally starting my apprenticeship.’
‘This is the Great Gallery,’ said Archie, indicating the massive high-ceilinged room they were standing in. On each side, wooden staircases led up to smaller galleries. The walls were jammed with bookcases crammed with old books.
As usual, the museum was full of apprentices working. Most of those working in the Great Gallery were doing their minding apprenticeships like Bramble. They made sure all the magical books were in good order and filed in the right place.
The finders were assigned to one of the three magical departments: natural, mortal or supernatural magic. They learned to identify which sort of magic a book contained.
There was usually only one apprentice bookbinder at a time, which was Archie at the moment.
The air above their heads was filled with flying books, flapping their covers like wings. Thistle stared at them in awe.
‘Incredible!’ he gasped.
Archie managed a smile. Bramble had explained to him on his first day that there was an enchantment on the building that allowed some of the books, those with a special stamp, to move. It saved the apprentices work, because the books filed themselves.
*
Later, as they sat in Quill’s, Archie asked the question he’d been thinking about all day.
‘So what happened to the Alchemists’ Club after they started the fire?’
‘I don’t really know,’ admitted Bramble. ‘No one talks about it.’
‘And Grey?’
‘Disappeared. That’s the real mystery. Probably just as well after what he’d done. And to think that he started his career as an apprentice at the museum – all five of them did!’
Katerina was sitting at the next table with Arabella. She was examining Arabella’s hand. Then she checked her own as if she half expected to see that another Golden Circle firemark had appeared there.
Arabella was complaining as usual. ‘It’s not fair. You should have received the firemark instead of me,’ she whined. ‘I don’t even want it!’
‘Well, I’m pleased for you,’ said Katerina. ‘The important thing is that the firemarks are back.’
‘But why me?’ moaned Arabella.
‘The Flame decides,’ said Katerina. ‘You know that. But if there’s anything I can do to help, just let me know. I’ve researched the Alchemists’ Club, so I know quite a lot about them.’
Perhaps Katerina knew what had happened to Grey, Archie thought. But just then something else caught his eye. An old lady’s face was peering at him through a gap in the permission wall into the back of house.
‘Look at this, Mabel!’ the old woman was saying to her friend. ‘There’s a room back here and it’s full of teenagers!’
Pink approached the old lady. ‘Sorry, madam,’ she said. ‘But I’m going to have to ask you to sit down.’
She gently steered the old lady away from the permission wall and back to her table.
Pink placed her hands over the hole. Her lips moved as she uttered a spell.
‘Enchanted wall, strong and true,
With this spell I renew!’
Strands of silver mist appeared, and the gap in the permission wall closed.
The old lady was cleaning her spectacles with her handkerchief.
‘These are for you,’ said Pink, giving her a bunch of blue flowers. They were called forget-me-nows, and they had a magical scent that made people forget what they had just seen.
‘Thank you, dear,’ said the old lady. ‘How strange. I thought I saw something, but I can’t remember what it was now.’
Her friend was patting her hand. ‘Never mind, dear. It must be something in the tea. What pretty flowers. Such a lovely scent. Where did they come from?’
The first old lady stared at the bunch of blue flowers in her hand. ‘I really don’t remember,’ she said.
Pink had crossed over to the back of house and was talking earnestly with Feodora Graves, their voices low. From where Archie and his cousins were sitting, they could hear the conversation.
Pink was shaking her head. ‘I don’t understand it,’ she was saying. ‘It’s felt thin ever since the fayre. It’s never happened before.’
‘And it must never happen again,’ said Graves.
‘Something is attacking the museum’s defences,’ said Gideon Hawke, who had just joined them.
Orpheus Gloom arrived. ‘What’s all this about a security breach?’ he said, directing his question at Pink.
‘It’s all under control,’ Pink replied, tersely. ‘There was a temporary breakdown in the permission wall, but it has been repaired now.’
‘Thank heavens for that,’ said Gloom. ‘I’ll ask Rusp to help you out for a while.’
Pink didn’t look pleased about this. She was pointing out where she had repaired the hole. Archie tried to listen in, but they had dropped their voices to a low whisper.
By now word had spread about the problem with the permission wall, and a crowd of apprentices had begun to gather.
‘I will ask Morag to check the Book of Charms,’ said Hawke, sweeping past the crowd as he left the room.
*
That evening, at the London offices of Folly & Catchpole, Horace Catchpole was working late, checking the client ledger. He was just closing the book when he heard a sound at the window that made him jump.
Tap, tap.
Horace ran his hand through his thinning hair and composed himself. By now he should be used to the odd ways of the firm’s more eccentric clients, but they still caught him by surprise sometimes, even when he was expecting them.
He opened the blind and peered out. A large black bird was perched on the outside of the windowsill and stared back at him. It tapped its beak on the glass again.
Tap, tap.
‘I wondered when you’d show up,’ said Horace, opening the window.
The raven hopped inside and regarded him with flinty black eyes.
‘You’ll be wanting this, I suppose?’ said Horace, holding up the gold ring with the dragon design. ‘It’s to be delivered to Archie Greene at the Museum of Magical Miscellany. But you probably know that already.’
The raven turned its head on one side and looked at the ring.
‘I don’t suppose you can tell me exactly when you will be delivering it?’ Horace continued. ‘Just for our records, you understand. It’s my boss, you see. She likes things to be in order. Less chance of mistakes that way!’
The raven gave him a beady-eyed stare. Then it snatched the ring in its claw and flew away.
Horace watched it go. ‘Flippin’ ravens,’ he muttered, closing the window. ‘Why can’t they make an appointment like everyone else?’
5
The Book of Charms
When Archie arrived at the mending workshop the next day, Old Zeb was waiting for him at the door.
‘There you are, Archie. No time to lose. Urgent job. Gideon Hawke has asked us to take a look at a very special book. He specifically asked for you. Come along.’
The old man marched back down the corridor where Archie had just come from. But to Archie’s surprise, instead of going back upstairs to the bookshop, the old bookbinder stopped outside the green arched door.
‘It’s a shortcut,’ he explained, seeing the question on Archie’s face. ‘Ordinarily, I’d only use it in an emergency, but the door ray at Quill’s still isn’t fixed, so it’ll be easier.’
Archie watched, fascinated, as the old man took a gold key from his pocket and fitted it into the lock. Then he addressed the door:
‘Door of mystery, door of grace,
Take me to my chosen place.’
He gave three knocks on the door and added, ‘Lost Books Department, please.’
Then he turned the key and opened the door.
‘Come along, Archie,’ he called, as he stepped over the threshold. ‘Don’t dawdle.’
Archie followed the old bookbinder through the door and to his amazement found himself standing outside Gideon Hawke’s office.
‘But … how … what … where?’ he mumbled, turning to look for the door he had just come through, only to find that it had vanished. All that remained was a keyhole in the wall.
‘Good, isn’t it?’ said Old Zeb. ‘It’s called an enchanted entrance,’ he explained. ‘It can take you to any magical place, as long as you’ve got the key.’
‘It’s amazing,’ said Archie, still gazing at where the door had just been. So now he knew what was behind the green door.
Old Zeb’s eyes twinkled. ‘I try not to use it too often, because I need the exercise,’ he said, patting his stomach. ‘But while the permission wall is playing up, you can use it. I keep the key with the others. Just remember to lock it afterwards.’
‘I thought I saw another door at the other end of the passageway?’ said Archie.
The old man frowned. ‘There used to be a door there once,’ he said, his brow darkening, ‘but it was sealed more than three hundred years ago. There was an accident and an apprentice died. Now come on, we mustn’t keep Gideon waiting.’
*
Hawke was seated behind his desk, with Morag Pandrama and Wolfus Bone gathered around him. All three were focused on an open book on the desk. It was a thick volume with a red and gold cover and spine. Hawke was examining it through his silvered imagining glass.
‘Zeb. Archie. Thank you for coming.’ He put the imagining glass down on the desk. ‘I’ve asked you here to get your opinion about this,’ he said, pointing to the book.
Old Zeb peered at it. ‘The Book of Charms,’ he said. ‘Well I never!’
He turned to Archie. ‘The Book of Charms contains the master spells that protect the museum. The last magister wrote it when he founded the museum.’
‘Yes,’ said Hawke. ‘I asked Morag to retrieve it from the secret vault where it’s kept. Take a closer look, Zeb.’ He offered the old bookbinder his imagining glass.
The old man took it and studied the pages.
‘Oh dear,’ he declared, shaking his head. ‘Oh dear, oh dear.’ He made a tutting sound, sucking through his teeth. ‘This is dreadful.’
The writing in the book was so faint it was barely legible. It looked like it had been bleached in the sun.
Hawke met Zeb’s eye. ‘The charms are fading,’ he said. ‘And as they do, the magic protecting the museum fades with them. Once the master spells are erased completely, their magic will be, too.’
‘The permission wall?’ said Archie.
Hawke nodded. ‘Yes, it is losing its power. And soon the spells will be so faint that it will fail completely. And it won’t stop there. The spells guarding the Terrible Tomes will also be affected. And there is the Darchive to consider.’
/> Archie’s ears pricked up. What was the Darchive?
‘Oh my,’ said Old Zeb. ‘We wouldn’t want the charm on the Darchive to fail. How long has this been going on?’ he asked.
‘We don’t know,’ said Hawke. ‘Pink noticed the permission wall was wearing thin after the fayre. Have you ever seen anything like it before?’
Old Zeb was still staring at the open pages of the book. ‘No,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘In all my time as a bookbinder, I’ve never come across anything quite like this.’
‘What about you, Archie?’ asked Hawke. ‘Can you try to speak to the book? Maybe it can tell us what ails it.’
‘I can try,’ Archie said, desperate to help if he could. He closed his eyes and concentrated on The Book of Charms. He reached out in the silence with his mind, trying to connect to it. Nothing.
He opened his eyes and glanced across at the book, willing it to speak, but it remained silent. He shook his head. ‘No, I’m sorry, it’s not responding.’
Wolfus Bone held a forked twig lightly between his fingertips and approached the book. This was the magical divining rod he used to test for magical strength. The rod twitched once and then was still.
‘I’m not surprised,’ said Bone. ‘The book is very weak. The magic is running out. Nothing lasts forever.’
‘Yes, I suppose you are right,’ said Old Zeb. ‘We can only mend and make do for so long. Eventually, all the books will fade.’
‘But why is The Book of Charms fading so quickly?’ said Hawke. ‘Something is draining its power. Is there anything you can do to slow it down, Zeb?’
The old man shook his head. ‘Nothing that I can think of,’ he said forlornly. ‘I’m used to repairing books, but this is beyond my knowledge. If only it was something simple, like a torn cover or some loose leaves. This requires a magic writer. No one else can help the book.’
