by D D Everest
‘That voice,’ said Archie. ‘Can’t you hear it?’
‘No,’ said Thistle.
It must be a book then, Archie thought. ‘Who are you?’ He demanded again, edging closer to his cousin.
‘Who am I?’ the voice taunted. ‘Who are you? That is the question.’
Archie could feel his heart pounding. He had goosebumps on his arms, and the hairs on the back of his neck prickled uncomfortably. He did not trust the voice, and he did not trust his own to reply. He felt the palm of his hand itching and opened it to take a look. The Golden Circle firemark was glowing an angry red.
There was a sharp intake of raspy breath. ‘So, you have the alchemists’ mark. How delicious!’ exclaimed the voice, and it began to recite a rhyme.
‘In dark places where none may go
Shadows linger from long ago
Secrets lurk from older days
Hidden paths and stealthy ways.
Some have tried to find their way
To make the darkness go away
But the choice is yours to make
The fork you take decides your fate.’
Archie tried to memorise the rhyme.
‘What is this place?’ he demanded.
The voice gave a cracked laugh. ‘Still don’t know, eh? You really are in the dark!’
He heard a sliding sound like something heavy being dragged across the flagstone floor. The stench got stronger. It smelled like something rotting. When the voice spoke again, it was closer.
‘I can help you write magic. I can set you upon the right path, book whisperer. I can show you where the others went wrong.’
‘What others?’ Archie demanded.
‘The ones who came before you. They had the mark, too, but they made mistakes. ‘You could be the next great darchemist,’ said the voice. ‘Of course, if the elders even suspected it, they’d revoke your apprenticeship! They wouldn’t let you stay at the museum!’
‘Who are you?’ demanded Archie.
Silence.
Archie looked at his hand. The Golden Circle firemark was still glowing brightly.
*
Morag Pandrama, the museum’s archivist, was working late. She was filing away some old scrolls when she thought she heard something. It was very faint, but it sounded like a boy’s voice.
It was coming from the far end of the archive – the section called the Darchive. But no one had been in there for years.
‘Help!’ it cried. ‘Get us out of here!’
Pandrama hurried towards the sound. The Darchive was behind a very large door with iron studs and a heavy lock. A large stone gargoyle crouched on each side of the door. It was off limits even to her.
The voice was coming from inside. Pandrama tentatively knocked on the door.
Someone gave a knock in reply, and she almost leaped out of her skin.
‘Who’s in there?’
After a moment’s hesitation, a voice answered.
‘Thistle Foxe and Archie Greene. We’re trapped in here!’
Morag Pandrama’s eyes opened wide. ‘I’m going to fetch Gideon Hawke,’ she said. ‘He’ll know what to do.’
A few minutes later, Archie and Thistle heard Hawke’s voice.
‘What on earth are you doing in there?’ he demanded.
‘We took the Dragon’s Claw and something went wrong.’ Archie’s voice sounded thin even to himself.
‘But how did they get inside? The Darchive hasn’t been opened for years!’ said Wolfus Bone.
‘Yes,’ breathed Hawke, ‘twelve years, to be precise. The last person to go inside was Arthur Ripley, when he was head of Lost Books. Ripley locked it straight afterwards, and no one has been back since.’
‘You can’t open it now,’ said Bone. ‘Who knows what dark magic lurks inside?’
‘I don’t think I have any choice,’ muttered Hawke. ‘It’s either that or leave them in there.’
There was a long pause. Then Archie and Thistle heard someone take a key chain from their pocket and fiddle with it. A key was fitted into the lock and turned. The door swung open with a loud groaning sound, and the two boys tumbled out before Hawke slammed it shut again.
Wolfus Bone sniffed the stale air that had entered the room with Archie and Thistle.
‘What is it, Wolfus?’ asked Hawke urgently.
Bone shook his head. ‘I thought I smelled something,’ he said thoughtfully.
*
It was after midnight when Archie and Thistle arrived back at number 32 Houndstooth Road. But by the lights on in every room, they knew that the other members of the Foxe household were very much awake.
Loretta opened the door to find Gideon Hawke on the doorstep with one hand protectively on Archie’s shoulder and the other on Thistle.
‘There you are!’ she exclaimed when she saw them. ‘We’ve been worried sick!’
Thistle gave a sheepish grin. ‘Good to see you, too, Mum,’ he said. ‘And yes, we’re all right. Thanks for asking.’
Loretta regarded him with wide eyes. ‘But where have you been?’
Hawke answered. ‘We found them in the Darchive, Loretta.’
Woodbine appeared from the kitchen. ‘The Darchive!’ he growled, and his face looked even more crinkled than usual.
Hawke nodded. ‘Someone or something bewitched the Dragon’s Claw to take them there.’
‘Do you think it’s the … old trouble?’ asked Woodbine.
‘I don’t know,’ said Hawke.
Loretta interrupted. ‘Well, they’ve had enough scares for one night. It’s time you were in bed,’ she said to the boys. ‘Now, off you go.’
What was the old trouble Woodbine had referred to? Did he mean the curse? Archie wondered as he and Thistle climbed the stairs. And what was the voice he’d heard in the dark? He wondered whether he should tell Hawke about it. But something the voice had said made him hesitate. His thoughts were interrupted by Bramble, who was on the landing outside her bedroom.
‘What happened to you two?’ she demanded crossly. ‘Rupert, Arabella and I waited for almost an hour.’
They’d missed the first Alchemists’ Club meeting! Trapped inside the Darchive, they had forgotten all about it. Bramble was fuming, but she calmed down when they explained what had happened.
‘Well, I did warn you about the Claw,’ she said when they’d finished. ‘But I suppose that’s a pretty decent excuse.’
‘We wouldn’t have missed the meeting unless it was something serious,’ said Archie sheepishly. ‘Anyway, what did the three of you decide?’
‘Nothing really. When we realised you weren’t coming, we rescheduled the meeting for tomorrow night. Arabella is talking to Katerina to find out what she can from her.’
‘There’s something else going on,’ said Archie. ‘I’m sure it’s to do with the curse. Seems like none of the elders want to talk about it. And when Uncle Woodbine hinted at it just now, your mum shut him up, too.’
When Bramble and Thistle were tucked up in bed, Archie crept downstairs to get a glass of water. He was still thinking about everything that had happened in the last two days. These latest developments were alarming. There had been no mention of a curse until they had re-formed the Alchemists’ Club. As he passed the serving hatch to the dining room, he could hear a murmur of voices.
The kitchen was lit by the moonlight coming in from the window. He poured himself a glass of water and took a long drink. He was on his way back to bed when he heard Hawke’s voice.
‘Now that the five have been revealed, we must find a way to protect them,’ he said.
Archie paused by the serving hatch. It was open a crack, and he could hear the conversation. He knew he shouldn’t eavesdrop, but he couldn’t help himself. ‘It was such a long time ago,’ said Loretta. ‘Surely it couldn’t happen again?’
‘I fear it might,’ said Hawke. ‘This episode with the Dragon’s Claw is a worrying development. After what happened the last time, we can’t afford to take an
y chances.’
‘What will you do?’ asked Loretta.
‘I will investigate,’ said Hawke. ‘But the children mustn’t write any magic. Not yet. Not until we have some answers. I’ve called a meeting of the elders for tomorrow evening.’
‘I hear there was another attack last night,’ Loretta said. ‘A woman in Edinburgh, apparently. Killed in her house and the place searched. Is that right?’
‘Yes,’ said Hawke. ‘A woman called Flora McDuff. These are dangerous times, Loretta. We fear they were after the same book they tried to get in Prague. If it is Grey’s notebook then it’s vital that we get it first.’
So that was what Woodbine had been sent to Prague for – Fabian Grey’s notebook! It must contain some very important information. Archie’s uncle had arrived too late in Prague but the Greaders hadn’t managed to get the book either. Perhaps they had suceeded in Edinburgh. Archie’s hand itched again. He looked down at his palm. His firemark was burning brightly once more.
7
Two Meetings
‘I think today would be a good day to start your spelling lessons,’ said Old Zeb. It was the day after Archie and Thistle had had their scare in the Darchive. ‘Never know when this stuff might come in handy,’ he added, with a wink.
The old bookbinder was sitting on a stool at his bench.
‘Magic is all around us, Archie,’ he continued, opening his arms. ‘Think about it. How else could a sunrise be so beautiful every time, or a flower be so exquisite? This is naturally occurring magic – it is a spell written by creation itself. But magicians need a magic writer to create a spell they can use. When the magic of starlight or sunshine is captured in a spell, it is transformed into mortal magic. When that first spell is written down, it is the master spell. It binds the magic to the words of the spell.
‘I’ll show you.’ The old man held up the needle that he had been using to repair a book. ‘See this? Because I know a sewing spell from a book of magic, I can simply recite it. Watch.
‘Needle sharp, needle true,
Do the work you were made to do.’
As Archie watched in amazement, the needle leaped from the old man’s hand and began to bob in and out of the spine of the book, making the repair on its own.
‘It’s the master spell that gives the words their power. Now you try one. Here,’ said the old man, passing Archie a book. ‘To start with, you’ll need to read it out – just until you know the words well enough to recite it. This is a nice one.’
Archie looked at the words on the page:
Kettle hot, and kettle cold,
Do exactly as you’re told.
Archie spoke the spell. Nothing happened.
‘Concentrate now,’ said Old Zeb. ‘No one ever did magic without concentrating.’
He tried again. This time the kettle leaped onto the hot plate.
‘There, that’s better!’ chuckled the old man. ‘Thirsty work, this spelling business. Nice cup of tea is just what we need.’
Archie took the hint and took out two chipped mugs from the cupboard.
Old Zeb held up his finger. ‘Now, remember, the master spell binds the magic to the words,’ he said. ‘But if that master spell is broken or erased, then the spell loses its power. Your firemark means that one day you will be able to write master spells – but one step at a time. Now it’s almost lunchtime, so off you go. Use the enchanted entrance. But remember to put the key back when you’re finished.’
*
That evening the newly re-formed Alchemists’ Club was meeting. It was quiet in the museum at night, which was one of the reasons they had rescheduled for that time. Archie and his cousins had told Loretta and Woodbine that they were doing some research. Pink barely raised a pierced eyebrow when she saw Archie, Bramble and Thistle arrive. It wasn’t unusual for apprentices to come in during the evenings to catch up on their work or do some research.
The children had agreed to meet in the West Gallery, near the Lost Books Department. Off to one side there was an alcove with a leather sofa and a desk and chair for reading. They were pleased that there was no sign of Rusp. Since he had been drafted in to provide extra security he had started patrolling the museum at odd times during the day. It would make it easier to keep their meeting secret without him prowling around.
Rupert and Arabella already knew about Archie and Thistle’s misadventure in the Darchive. It had been the main topic of conversation at the museum all day. Archie and Thistle had been receiving some strange looks from the other apprentices. People were wondering whether it was anything to do with the Alchemist’s Curse.
When they were tucked away in the alcove out of sight, Archie placed the gold ring from the raven on the table so that they could all see it. He had started carrying it with him in his pocket wherever he went.
‘It’s the Golden Circle symbol, all right,’ said Rupert. ‘Graves said it belonged to Fabian Grey.’
‘But why did the raven give it to me?’ asked Archie.
‘Perhaps it’s a keepsafe,’ said Arabella, twisting a brooch with a red gemstone in her hand. ‘I’ve got this lucky brooch. It used to belong to my grandmother.’
Bramble jangled the gold charm bracelet on her wrist. ‘I’m wearing mine,’ she said.
‘Me too,’ said Thistle, showing off his silver ring with the orange gemstone. ‘Mum thinks we’re in danger,’ he added. ‘She’s in a right old flap about it.’
Archie reached inside his shirt and felt the reassuring touch of the Emerald Eye.
‘Well, I don’t have a keepsafe any more,’ said Rupert. ‘The lucky cufflinks my grandfather gave me were swallowed by Simon the red-bellied salamander last week. I took them off for a moment to clean out his pen and he ate them.’
‘Not so lucky, then,’ said Arabella.
‘I suppose it might have been worse,’ said Archie. ‘You could have been wearing them at the time!’
Rupert smiled. ‘That’s true, but I’d still feel safer if I had one.’
‘Well, we didn’t come to talk about keepsafes. Let’s make a start,’ said Archie. ‘I declare the first meeting of the new Alchemists’ Club open!’ He rubbed his hands together.
‘And I have news,’ said Rupert, holding up a piece of dog-eared parchment. ‘This was among some papers that belonged to my ancestor Roderick Trevallen. It’s a copy of the oath the original members made when they founded the club. Listen to this:
‘I swear allegiance to the Alchemists’ Club. I promise to do all I can to restore magic to its former glory.’
The five members had signed their full names underneath.
‘Every club needs some rules,’ said Bramble, ‘and the new Alchemists’ Club is no exception. We should take the oath at the start of every meeting. I’ll go first.’
‘I, Bramble Thornbush Foxe, swear allegiance to the Alchemists’ Club. I promise to do all I can to restore magic to its former glory.’
Bramble grinned. ‘Your turn, Arabella,’ she said.
‘I, Arabella Ebony Ripley, swear allegiance to the Alchemists’ Club. I promise to do all I can to restore magic to its former glory.’
They carried on around the circle until it was Archie’s turn.
Archie closed his eyes. ‘I, Archibald Obadiah Greene, swear—’
‘Obadiah!’ exploded Rupert. ‘Your middle name is Obadiah?’
Archie shrugged. ‘Yes. Obadiah was the last librarian of Alexandria and my ancestor. What of it …?’
‘It’s a bit, well, unusual,’ Bramble said.
‘And Thornbush isn’t?’ snickered Arabella.
‘So my parents have a thing about plants,’ said Bramble, with a shrug of her shoulders. ‘Besides, you’re a fine one to talk – Ebony?’
Arabella tossed her head. ‘Anyway, I have some news, too,’ she said. ‘I asked Katerina about the Alchemists’ Club, and she told me that they had a secret meeting place. Fabian Grey had a laboratory somewhere inside the museum where he did his magical experiments
. And that’s where they used to meet.’
Archie’s ears pricked up. They would need a secret place to meet. ‘What happened to it?’ he asked.
‘Katerina thinks its probably still there, hidden somewhere in the building,’ said Arabella. ‘She’s trying to find it.’
‘Shhhh,’ said Thistle. ‘There’s someone coming!’
They could hear voices approaching. The five children ducked behind a bookcase. They were just in time to see Graves and Brown file past. Orpheus Gloom was with them.
‘Thank you for inviting me along,’ Gloom was saying to Graves. ‘It’s such an exciting moment to be at the museum.’
‘You are here to represent the Royal Society of Magic,’ said Graves. ‘Whatever we decide, the authorities will have to be informed.’
‘Of course,’ said Gloom.
‘And we would also value your opinion in your capacity as a magical assessor.’
Their voices faded as they climbed a marble staircase that led to Lost Books.
In their hiding place behind the bookcase, the children exchanged looks.
‘Hawke said he was calling a meeting about The Book of Charms,’ whispered Archie. ‘It must be tonight.’
‘Don’t we need to know what they’re talking about to see if we can rewrite the magic?’ Bramble asked.
‘Yes,’ said Archie. ‘And I get the feeling they’re not telling us the whole story. Come on.’
As stealthily as they could, the five apprentices crept up the first set of stairs leading to the Scriptorium, the unused room set aside for writing magic. Lost Books was on the next floor, up a second staircase. They had just reached the top step when they heard voices coming from Hawke’s study. One of the double doors was slightly ajar.
At first they couldn’t hear what was being said, so they crept a little closer.
‘Something else has been woken up by the firemarks,’ Hawke was saying. ‘Something dark. We must ensure our apprentices don’t meet the same fate as Grey and the others.’
