The Crow tutted. ‘What is the matter with you! Don’t make so much noise!’ It sniffed the air, turning its moth-eaten head this way and that. ‘Definitely a whiff of spell somewhere. The library, maybe.’
They tiptoed over the dark creaky floorboards. At the library door Seren turned the handle and opened the door a tiny crack. She peeped in.
Everything seemed to be quiet, so she slid inside. The Crow flapped after her.
The huge bookshelves reached up to the ceiling, their gilt spines enticing; all their enchanting volumes of story closed and asleep.
But the curtains, usually shut tight at night, were drawn back, so that moonlight lit the room. Seren held the candle up, though she hardly needed it. And then she saw something impossible.
On the table in the centre of the room a green pen was writing.
All by itself!
It was scribbling elegant names on a pile of cream stationary. Seren recognised the gold letters of Lady Mair’s invitations. The invitations to the Midsummer Ball!
‘What on earth…!’ the Crow gasped.
As if it heard, the pen gave a jump and scribbled faster. They saw that as each invitation was written it folded itself up and became a creamy paper bat. Hundreds of them were flitting out of the window, an outpouring of invitations.
The Crow gave a squawk of horror.
‘Get that pen! NOW!’
Seren had to put the candle down carefully but then she made a dive at the table. The pen leapt into the air, ink splashing from the open inkwell; it dived under the pile of papers but Seren flung them aside and grabbed it, feeling the greenness of it squirm in her fingers.
‘My goodness.’ The Crow soared over the desk. ‘This is dreadful! This is a disaster!’
It was diving and flapping furiously at the invitations but there were too many and even as it snatched one and tore it to shreds dozens of others were streaming out of the window in a great long line. The Crow skidded to a halt on the sill and stared up at them hopelessly. Then a crafty glint came into its eye.
‘Hold tight! This will be uncomfortable!’ It took a breath and spoke a sentence. It sounded like a poem said backwards.
At once Seren felt all the air had been sucked out of her lungs. She had to gasp for breath. Her dressing gown turned inside out by itself and then back again. Her hair lifted and tingled round her scalp. All the doors in the room, even the smallest cupboards, opened and closed with a sudden clap!
The invitations shrivelled.
They turned black and rained from the ceiling like cinders.
The green pen gave a hopeless shiver. Then Seren realised she was holding nothing but green dust that seeped through her fingers onto the desk, with a gold trickle where the nib had been.
‘Got them!’ the Crow snapped, triumphantly. ‘HA!’
Seren sat breathlessly on the chair. ‘That was … amazing.’ She opened her fingers. The green dust powdered down onto the paper. ‘What is it? Dried leaves?’
‘Who knows. Who cares!’ The Crow paraded haughtily up and down the desk, leaving inky footprints on the paper and kicking invitations out of its way. ‘Whatever it was it couldn’t get the better of me! Did you see that! One word, one imperious command and BANG! Gone! Obliterated. DESTROYED!’
‘Yes,’ Seren said, ‘but…’
‘I mean, there’s not another person in Wales who could even come close. Not even that wizard down in Carmarthen. Or that wise woman in Bangor with the black cat who thinks she’s so…’
‘The pen was writing invitations,’ Seren said, in a very small voice. ‘And who knows how many it had already sent out.’
The Crow stopped in mid-stride. It swivelled its head and looked at her and for a moment they shared a look of horror.
The Crow groaned. ‘The Midsummer Ball! They will get in!’
Seren got up and ran to the window. ‘Can’t we stop it somehow?’
‘It’s too late! Who brought that wretched faery pen into the house? What IDIOT…’
‘Tomos. He thought it was Lady Mair’s. It’s not his fault.’
The Crow huffed and kek-kekked and stomped around the table. ‘Well, the fat’s in the fire now. We can’t stop Them coming. I…’
Seren jumped up. ‘Listen!’
Footsteps in the corridor.
Instantly, she dived under the desk. The Crow stood rigid by the inkwell.
The door opened and Mrs Villiers swept in carrying an oil lamp.
The housekeeper wore a long frilly blue dressing gown and her hair was curled in rags. Seren stifled a snort of laughter, and crouched lower, because if she was found how could she explain?
Mrs Villiers took a quick look around. She went to the window and closed it.
Then a voice said, ‘Mrs Villiers? Are you still up?’
She turned. ‘Oh, Captain. I was actually in my room but it’s so hot, and I was sure I heard a noise down here. A banging, like doors. Just as well, as someone seems to have left a candle alight. Goodness, how dangerous, with all these books.’ She blew it out quickly.
Captain Jones came in. He wore a dressing gown, too, and had a large book under his arm. ‘Well, there’s no one here now. Perhaps you should close the window, though, even though the night is so warm.’
‘I’ll do that. Better safe than sorry.’ She hurried over. ‘Strange. It’s already closed.’
Then she gave a gasp, and Seren knew she had seen the inky stains on the desk.
‘Oh heavens! Look at all this mess. A bird must have got in.’ She squinted at the inkwell, the scattered papers, the rigid Crow and the brass model of Llandaff Cathedral next to it. ‘And these ornaments really do need a dusting. Look at them!’ She wiped a smear of dust off the Crow’s head with one finger. ‘Disgusting. I shall certainly speak to Lily about it. That girl is shirking her duties!’
Seren kept perfectly still. She could see the Crow wobbling. He must be furious! What if he said something! She prayed he would keep his temper.
‘Yes, well. Good night.’ Captain Jones turned to the door. Then, a little doubtfully, he stopped and turned back. ‘Mrs Villiers, may I ask you a rather serious question. In confidence?’
Mrs Villiers straightened. ‘Of course, sir.’
‘What is your opinion – and I would like your honest opinion, if you please – of Seren?’
Seren’s eyes went wide with astonishment.
Mrs Villiers seemed startled too. ‘Seren! Goodness… Why she’s a dear. Though of course, when she first came … when things were so difficult, and dear Master Tomos was missing…’
Captain Jones nodded impatiently.
‘…well, I confess, I was rather unsure about her even being here. An orphan, you know. And she was so dirty and cheeky at first.’
‘I was not!’ Seren muttered, furious. Never mind the Crow, she wanted to burst out in temper. But Mrs Villiers hadn’t finished. ‘But now? Oh Captain Jones, she is so sensible and generous! A little wild at times, a little bold in her ideas. Far too many sensational books, of course. But well … such a sweet girl…’
Seren’s fury disappeared abruptly. Gosh. That was all right. Who would have thought stiff old Mrs V would say that.
But Captain Jones didn’t seem quite satisfied. ‘Yes, but … do you truly think she is a suitable companion for Tomos?’
Mrs Villiers folded her hands together. ‘Oh sir, that’s not for me to say. You and Lady Mair have been so kind that… There is nothing wrong about Seren, sir, I hope?’
‘Well, not quite wrong…’ Captain Jones shuffled awkwardly. ‘You see it’s just that…’
Seren edged a fraction nearer, desperate to hear. As she did so her hand slid on the polished floor and the planks creaked, sharply.
Captain Jones turned at once. ‘What on earth was that?’
He hurried towards the desk.
Seren froze.
She couldn’t move!
Her heart thudded and she went cold all over. Captain Jones’ slippered fee
t came right up to the desk. She saw his knees.
He was bending down.
His face was staring right at her.
Their eyes met.
It was a moment of nightmare.
Seren swallowed. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but somehow she couldn’t manage a word and at the very same moment Captain Jones blinked and shook his head, puzzled. ‘Nothing here. Must have just been the floorboards relaxing.’
He scrambled back, leaving Seren staring at the darkness in amazement.
He must have seen her.
Why hadn’t he said anything?
She was so baffled she only realised they had both gone when their voices faded and the door closed with a click.
The library was dark and silent for a whole minute.
Then the Crow snapped. ‘That presumptuous woman! How dare she call me disgusting! If I don’t turn her into a worm…’
Seren scrambled out. ‘He saw me! He looked right at me!’
‘Ah, but he didn’t see you.’ The Crow looked smug. ‘I made sure of that. It was an extremely tricky feat of magic.’
‘You mean I was invisible?’ She stared down at her hands and nightgown and feet. ‘Oh my goodness! How can I still see myself?’
‘No! Invisible! What does that even mean? He didn’t see you. I convinced him there was nothing there. His eyes were working all right and you were actually there but he didn’t believe it. Call it a sort of hypnotism.’ The Crow flapped down and strode to the door. It seemed immensely pleased with itself. ‘Ha! Superb timing. Had to hold it just so… Another thing no one else could have done with such … panache.’
‘No,’ Seren said. ‘Thank you.’
‘Now you’d better get back to bed in case they come back.’ The Crow turned. ‘What’s wrong?’
She frowned. She wanted to say Why was Captain Jones asking about me like that? but the Crow would have just shrugged that off so instead she said, ‘You’ve forgotten the invitations.’
Instantly the Crow groaned. ‘Another problem to sort out.’ It yawned. ‘And after those two electrifying spells I’m feeling way too tired to think.’
An hour later, curled up in the dark bed, Seren lay worrying. Everything seemed to be going wrong. She had to be very careful. Behave really well. Not get in anyone’s way. Not read too many books. There was a deep small cold fear inside her that wouldn’t go away, and for a moment she let herself imagine the journey in the train back to the orphanage, and the doors opening and her small self walking in, down the double row of girls sitting at supper, and all of them turning to look at her and laughing.
She shivered, and turned over. That was a nightmare she didn’t intend to happen.
Fiercely she told herself not to worry.
Tomorrow she would get things sorted things out.
Tomorrow.
Starting with the Box.
6
Ask it politely
Cross words never
make things better.
But by twelve o’clock the next morning she was leaning her head on her arms, thoroughly annoyed and irritated. ‘I give UP! This is hopeless! What else can we do?’
The Box lay on the table, surrounded by all the tools they had used to try to open it. Paper knives and penknives. Scissors and saws. Screwdrivers and letter slitters.
On the sofa by the fireplace the Crow lay on its back, giving the faintest of moans. ‘Don’t ask me. I’ve used every spell I know. I’m EXHAUSTED.’
They had completely run out of ideas, and there was the Box with its starry lid sealed as tightly shut as ever. And still no sign of the Swan on its lid.
Far off, the kitchen bell rang.
‘Lunch!’ Tomos jumped up. ‘Oh and it’s parsnip soup today. Come on, Seren. Let’s go!’
Seren was only too glad to scramble after him, but the Crow glowered and sank deeper into its feathers.
‘Parsnip soup! How lovely – for some! With scones, no doubt. CHEESE scones.’
‘We won’t be long, honestly,’ Seren said, from the door.
‘Take all the time you want.’ The Crow pecked viciously at the Box. ‘I’m going absolutely nowhere!’
Seren had hoped for a peaceful time to think about things, but in the kitchen it was incredibly hot and busy, even with all the windows open. Two extra cooks had been brought in to help with preparations for the Ball and all the other servants were working hard too. Dough was being rolled out, chickens plucked and cakes baked. Gwyn was carrying a high pile of vegetables backwards through the door. He dumped them in the pantry and waved at Seren.
‘Come and eat now, with Seren and Master Tomos,’ Mrs Villiers snapped. ‘But first wash your hands.’
A small table was laid for them in the corner, out of the bustle. Denzil sat there already, sipping an enormous mug of tea, and smoking his small clay pipe.
For a while Seren, Tomos and Gwyn just ate. Then, when she was comfortably full, Seren said, ‘Denzil. Listen. Something’s happened.’
They all looked at her.
‘Due to an … um … unfortunate mistake, some extra invitations were written. To um, well, to Them.’
Tomos said, ‘What?’ and Gwyn muttered something she didn’t understand in Welsh. They both looked dismayed, but not as much as Denzil.
The small man stared at her. His silence was scary. He took his pipe out and looked down at it. ‘This is bad, girl. Very bad. How did it happen?’
‘Well, like I said, it was a mistake.’ Seren caught Tomos’s eye – she didn’t want to get him into trouble for bringing the green pen into the house. ‘It was no one’s fault, and we are going to try to stop Them, honestly, if we can.’
‘How?’
‘Well, we have a Box … only, Denzil, if you had a thing that wouldn’t open, that wouldn’t do what you wanted, however much you tried to make it, what would you do?’
‘An enchanted thing?’ Denzil said sharply.
‘Yes.’
‘You be careful, Seren bach.’
‘We are careful. And it’s not just me and Tomos. A friend is helping us. A feathered friend, if you know what I mean.’
‘Mmm.’ Denzil puffed at his pipe. Then he knocked a dottle of tobacco from it onto the edge of the table. ‘Your schoolmaster. I know him.’
Seren nodded. She was never sure how much Denzil knew about the Crow. Though actually, she thought, there wasn’t much that Denzil didn’t know about what went on in Plas-y-Fran. Suddenly she wanted to know if Captain Jones had asked him any questions about her, but it was too late. As he stood and picked up his plate he murmured something so quietly that only she could hear over the clash and clatter of pans.
‘As for your Box, I would ask it.’
‘Ask it?’
Denzil leaned closer. ‘An enchanted object needs to have respect shown it, bach. So yes, I would ask it, politely, to open itself, if I was you.’
Why hadn’t she thought of that?
Dumping her spoon in the dish, and leaving Gwyn and Tomos staring, she ran.
In the schoolroom the Crow was perched on the globe. It shrugged haughtily. ‘Well, if you think the opinion of a mere servant is better than mine, go ahead.’
‘Denzil is not a mere servant. I’m going to try it.’
She stood looking down at the Box, her hands on the starry cover. Then she said, ‘Box of the Midnight Swan, listen to me. We’re really sorry we’ve been trying to force you open. It’s up to you. But it would be really nice if you let us see what’s inside you. Please.’
Nothing happened.
Tomos hurtled in through the door. ‘What…?’
The Crow held up a wing, then folded it, smug. ‘Seren has some ridiculous idea that…’
The Box exploded.
That was the only word for it. It burst open with an enormous crash. All sorts of things were flung out, smacking against the walls and ceiling.
Seren ducked; Tomos screeched.
The Crow stared.
Seren watched, wide-eyed.
Slowly, everything fell and settled.
When the last petal had drifted down she took her arms off her head and stood up again.
‘Gosh,’ she said. And then, to the Box, ‘Thanks.’
The schoolroom was transformed. It was as scented as a beautiful garden and carpeted with petals. On the table, the Box lay open, its lid wide.
The Crow scrambled over hastily. ‘Good work, Seren.’ It looked inside.
‘Ah,’ it said.
Seren and Tomos ran to see. For a few moments they both stood there silent.
Then Seren said the obvious.
‘It’s empty.’
She was so disappointed!
Hastily the Crow put its head right inside and looked in every corner. ‘There must be more than this. There has to be!’
Actually Seren thought, it wasn’t quite empty. There was a cushioned interior of pale blue silk. It was a large empty padded space. And the space was egg-shaped.
The Midnight Swan Page 5
