A Sprinkle of Sorcery

by Michelle Harrison

  ‘Nothing good,’ Spit replied gravely. ‘Now let’s move.’

  Betty’s fingers tightened on the oar. She rowed harder, eager to escape as quickly as possible. The flickering wisps merged and swarmed round the two figures. The glow seemed to brighten, lighting up the whole of the wreck under the blackened sky. And then there was a flash so blinding that Betty had to look away.

  The whispers were suddenly shut off, as if a door had been closed. When Betty looked back, the glow had gone and all she could see were a few flecks of pale light like a scattering of pearls in the night sky. They could no longer see The Sorcerer’s Compass, but Betty knew it was still there somewhere.

  Waiting in the darkness.

  Chapter Twenty

  A Bargain

  CHARLIE SQUEEZED CLOSER AND FLUNG her arms round Betty’s waist, crushing the breath out of her.

  ‘Oof!’ said Betty, gasping for air. She lowered her oar and rubbed Charlie’s back as her little sister sobbed into her lap. ‘It’s all right now,’ she soothed. ‘I’m here.’

  ‘When he said “get rid of her” . . . I thought . . . I thought . . .’ Charlie sniffed, her voice muffled. ‘If you hadn’t been there, they’d have . . .’

  ‘Well, I was,’ said Betty, light-headed with relief. ‘And you weren’t making it easy for them. That was a pretty impressive whack you gave Goose.’

  ‘I did whack him, didn’t I?’ Charlie sat up, a little brighter. There was an object in her sister’s lap, Betty realised, glimpsing curved wood, and she remembered now how something had rolled by her feet. The dolls. They must have fallen from her pocket when she’d climbed into the boat. Charlie had picked them up.

  Charlie eyed Spit suspiciously. ‘Who is this? Where’s Fliss? How did you find me? Where are we going—?’

  ‘Whoa, Charlie,’ Betty said gently. ‘One thing at a time!’

  ‘I’m Spit,’ he said, turning to spit over the side of the boat, but stopping himself just in time.

  ‘He’s . . . sort of a pirate,’ Betty added. ‘That shipwreck, The Sorcerer’s Compass, it’s where his crew keeps some of their loot.’

  ‘Will you stop blabbing our secrets?’ Spit exclaimed. ‘It’s our best hiding place!’

  ‘Jumping jackdaws,’ Charlie breathed. ‘A real, live pirate!’ She leaned over and poked Spit’s legs. ‘Either of these wooden?’

  ‘Nope,’ said Spit. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘No eyepatch?’ she asked, disappointed. ‘Parrot?’

  Spit shook his head, bemused.

  Charlie looked unimpressed. ‘Where’s Fliss?’

  Betty hesitated, glancing at Spit. ‘She . . . well. She got a bit kidnapped, by Spit’s crew. So did Willow.’

  ‘Kidnapped?’ Charlie looked at Spit, confused. ‘I thought you said he was with us?’

  ‘He is,’ said Betty. ‘But it’s . . . complicated.’ She regarded the pirate boy curiously. Spit had only gone along with her plan because Betty had threatened to make him vanish. They weren’t friends – he’d said so himself. But he’d done more than provide a distraction; he’d helped them back there.

  Spit pursed his lips, saying nothing.

  ‘Poor Willow and Fliss!’ Charlie breathed. ‘You mean . . . the three of you came all the way out here, for me?’

  ‘Of course we did,’ said Betty.

  ‘What do the pirates want with them?’ Charlie asked.

  ‘Well, the pirates took The Travelling Bag,’ Betty explained. ‘Only they didn’t realise that Fliss and Willow were on it, invisible. I’d made us all disappear . . .’

  She trailed off, a horrible realisation seeping into her as she saw Charlie’s expression change, becoming stricken. Betty’s eyes went to the dolls in her lap, then to Spit, then back to Charlie. A wave of panic washed over her. Both of them were staring directly into her eyes. She wasn’t hidden at all.

  ‘Oh, no,’ she croaked, grabbing the dolls from Charlie’s lap. In the darkness she hadn’t seen, or thought to check . . . ‘No, no, no . . . !’

  ‘Betty?’ Charlie whispered. ‘I . . . I’m really sorry. I didn’t know . . .’

  Betty gasped, lifting the dolls to the light. It didn’t matter now if Spit saw them. Everything had already gone wrong. She corrected herself. Even more wrong.

  The two halves of the key on the outer doll were no longer aligned.

  ‘You twisted them, didn’t you?’ Betty asked. An image of Charlie wringing her hands in her lap flashed before Betty’s eyes. Only, she hadn’t been wringing her hands, after all.

  One turn, counter-clockwise . . .

  ‘I d-didn’t know pirates had Fliss and Willow,’ Charlie stuttered, her eyes huge and panicking. ‘I was just scared and I wanted to see you so badly, I—’

  Betty’s voice shook. ‘How long ago was it? A minute? A few?’ Her mind buzzed like a beehive. She gripped the dolls, about to twist the outer halves back in place, but something stopped her. ‘It can’t have been long,’ she whispered, mostly to herself. ‘But what if . . . what if that was enough time for Willow and Fliss to be found?’

  ‘There would’ve been crew on your boat, guarding it,’ Spit said gravely. ‘The boat’s small. They could well have been captured already.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Charlie said, beginning to cry again. ‘It’s my fault if they’re catched!’

  ‘No.’ Betty squeezed her sister’s hand, even though it wouldn’t make either of them feel any better – or help Fliss and Willow. After everything Charlie had been through of course she would have wanted to see Betty and reassure herself. ‘You weren’t to know.’

  The dolls rattled in Betty’s hand, as it shook with fear and shock. Why had she allowed Fliss and Willow to leave The Sorcerer’s Compass at all? Even if they’d been stranded here without a boat, it would have been better than being split up – and two of them in the clutches of pirates. If she made Willow and Fliss vanish again now, what would happen?

  Pirates are a superstitious lot . . .

  Could it work to their advantage? she wondered desperately. Could Fliss and Willow stage a little haunting? Or were they under lock and key already? If so, they wouldn’t be able to slip away, unseen or not. There was just no way of knowing.

  ‘We have to get to them,’ said Betty. ‘Right now.’ She grabbed Spit’s arm and shook it. ‘You have to help me.’

  He stared back her, almost pityingly. ‘What do you expect will happen? That we’ll turn up and Ronia will just . . . hand them over?’ He waved at the shipwreck. ‘There’s more chance of Rusty handing you his treasure!’

  ‘There has to be something we can do,’ Betty insisted. ‘You know them – you know how they work! There must be a way we can trick them—’

  ‘Whoa!’ Spit shook her off, his cheeks flaming. ‘Do you know what you’re saying? No one gets away with tricking Ronia, you hear me? No one! Least of all not one of her own crew. If Ronia finds out I helped you, it’ll be my bones up on that mast next.’

  Betty forced down a sob. Without Spit, any plan for tackling Ronia and her crew was doomed. If only she could persuade him. Not for the first time she wished she had even a scrap of Fliss’s charm. Her sister had a way of tilting her head just at the right angle, and batting her eyelashes. Betty tried it now.

  ‘Please,’ she whispered.

  Spit regarded her strangely. ‘Is there something wrong with your neck?’

  ‘Oh, forget it,’ she snapped. ‘We have to go, with or without you. We can’t just sit here doing nothing – we don’t have time! Willow’s father doesn’t have time!’

  ‘Go where?’ Charlie asked, wiping her eyes. ‘To the pirate ship?’

  ‘Exactly. Go where?’ Spit repeated. ‘Even if you row all night, you won’t make it in time.’

  His words sent alarm spiralling in Betty’s head. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘They’ll be off plundering at dawn,’ he exclaimed. ‘And, if they’ve found Willow and Fliss, they’ll be going, too.’

  ‘No,’ sai
d Betty, horror-struck at the thought. Though she had considered the possibility of the girls being caught up in the pirates’ skulduggery, she hadn’t thought it would happen so soon. If the Rusty Scuttlers took off into the unknown with Fliss and Willow, there was no telling what fate might befall them. Or how Betty would ever catch them up. ‘We have to get to them. I’m not losing any more sisters.’

  She pointed a finger at the rocks. ‘We’re leaving now. So, if you’re not going to help us, you’d better get off this boat and swim back to your crow’s-nest.’

  ‘I can’t go back there yet!’ Spit spluttered. ‘Those wisps might have vanished, but they’ll still be riled up under there. I’ve never seen them that angry before.’ He cast a fearful look at The Sorcerer’s Compass. ‘No one holds a grudge like Rusty, you know. Except perhaps Ronia.’

  ‘Are you scared?’ asked Charlie, sounding disappointed. ‘I thought pirates didn’t get scared. What kind of pirate are you?’

  Spit glared. ‘The kind who plans to die old.’

  ‘Who’s Ronia?’ Charlie asked.

  ‘The captain,’ said Betty. ‘And a right scary one she is, too.’

  ‘Has she got a parrot?’

  ‘No,’ Betty answered. ‘If she did, it was probably eaten by her awful cat.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Charlie, brightening a tad. ‘A cat!’ She frowned suddenly. ‘Betty – where’s Hoppit?’

  Betty gulped. ‘Sorry, Charlie. He’s with Fliss. I’m sure she’s keeping him safe.’ If she’s safe herself, she thought miserably.

  She picked up the oars, trying one last time. ‘Make your mind up, Spit. It’s a long way to those rocks and I could really use your help. Are you coming or not? I can hide you from Ronia. She won’t know—’

  Spit snorted. ‘Like you hid Fliss and Willow? No, thanks. They’ll see the boat coming for a start, you know.’

  ‘Just go, then,’ Betty snapped, close to being overwhelmed with exhaustion. ‘Take your chances with Rusty and the rest of the wisps!’

  Spit glared at her, his nostrils flaring with angry breaths.

  ‘Where is the pirates’ ship?’ Charlie asked.

  ‘Behind those rocks,’ said Betty, still scowling at Spit.

  ‘You mean those rocks?’ Charlie said, pointing. ‘Where that boat is coming from?’

  ‘Boat?’ Immediately, Betty lowered her oar and stood up, gazing into the darkness. Sure enough, a shadowy shape was moving out from behind the rocks, a small lantern bobbing in front. It was, unmistakably, a boat . . . but not the pirates’.

  ‘Is that . . . our boat?’ Charlie asked, leaning over the side eagerly. ‘Betty, I think it is! It’s The Travelling Bag!’

  Betty clutched at her sister, hardly daring to hope. But the more she stared, the closer it came, and there was no mistaking it really was their very own little fishing boat. ‘I don’t believe it,’ she murmured, her heart soaring. ‘It’s coming this way. Looks like Fliss and Willow really did manage to steal the boat!’

  To her surprise, Spit grabbed both oars and began to row.

  ‘What?’ he said indignantly. ‘If that is your sister, then this is your chance to get away. And the quicker you do, the quicker I can pretend I never saw any of this happen.’ He spat into the water. ‘Wisp catchers, kidnaps, disappearing dolls . . . Rotten luck, the lot of you!’

  Luck, Betty thought. Perhaps the approaching boat meant it had changed, at last. But then a little doubt pricked her like a pin. What if . . . ?

  ‘You didn’t raise the sail,’ she said. ‘What if Ronia has sent pirates back in our boat to find out why? She knows there were three of us.’

  ‘I doubt she’d use your boat for that,’ Spit replied. ‘Then again,’ he added darkly, ‘with Ronia, you never know.’

  As it drew nearer, the light at the front of the boat flashed off, then on again.

  ‘It’s seen us,’ said Spit, flashing the light on the little rowing boat back. ‘It’s heading this way.’

  He rowed wordlessly, hearing only the shush-shush of oars through water and the occasional chattering of Charlie’s teeth. Betty put her arm round Charlie, pulling her close. If it was Ronia, there was nowhere for them to hide now they’d been spotted.

  ‘There’s someone on deck,’ Spit said, craning his neck to look over his shoulder.

  Betty snatched one of the oars from Spit and began to row as hard as she could. She could see the figure, too. Pixie-short hair, long graceful limbs . . . it could only be Fliss!

  ‘It is her!’ Betty exclaimed in amazement. ‘They’ve done it! They escaped, somehow.’ A vision of Ronia sailing away plundering on her ship came into Betty’s mind, followed by Fliss sneaking across The Travelling Bag to push an unsuspecting pirate overboard. However it had happened, this was one story Betty couldn’t wait to hear!

  And just beyond Fliss stood a smaller, dishevelled silhouette, barely visible in the dim light. Willow.

  For a moment, Betty was so overcome with joy she wanted to hug everyone – even Spit. Betty couldn’t see Fliss’s face yet, but she knew she must be smiling as widely as Betty was now. She had her sisters back. And Willow still had time to try and save her father. Heck, perhaps Fliss could even charm Spit into taking Willow to the Winking Witch! All Betty knew, very firmly, was that she was taking her sisters home to Granny and Father. Everything was going to be all right.

  And then . . .

  And then they were closer, and a shaft of moonlight shone across Fliss’s face. She wasn’t smiling.

  ‘Betty?’ Charlie whispered. ‘What’s wrong with Fliss?’

  ‘They’re not alone,’ Betty said, her voice trembling as she suddenly realised what she was seeing.

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Charlie, peering into the distance. ‘I can’t see no one else, just Fliss and Willow on deck.’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Betty. Her dread was like icy tentacles, popping the little bubble of hope she’d felt only moments ago. ‘So, if they’re on deck, who’s steering the boat?’

  A white shape shifted by Fliss’s leg, but this time it wasn’t moonlight. This was something stealthy, something real and feline. Which meant that the person steering the boat had to be . . .

  ‘Ronia?’ Betty whispered. ‘What’s going on here?’ She turned to Spit. His face, which had been flushed with temper just minutes ago, was now draining of colour. ‘Is Ronia releasing them? Or are they prisoners? I don’t understand!’

  ‘You think I do?’ he retorted.

  ‘She’s your captain!’ Betty said desperately.

  ‘A captain I’ve lied to,’ Spit snapped, raking a hand through his hair. His eyes were wild and afraid. ‘Just shut up a minute – I need to think how I’m going to get us out of this. If that’s even possible.’

  The Travelling Bag drew closer, until the two boats were only a leap apart. By now, Fliss had rushed to the side and was leaning over, but for once it was not to be sick. Instead, her gaze was fixed on Charlie, relief etched on her face.

  ‘Charlie! I can’t believe it’s really you!’

  ‘It is me!’ Charlie yelled back, grinning gappily. ‘Betty saved me!’

  ‘Let me do the talking,’ Spit hissed. ‘Be quiet until we know what’s going on.’

  Charlie tutted. ‘You ain’t even a real pirate,’ she said sulkily, but she folded her arms and kept quiet.

  Spit tensed as Ronia emerged from the wheelhouse. She strode purposefully towards them and paused by the side of the boat, giving a low whistle. Bandit shot along the deck, climbed her leg and perched on her shoulder, purring.

  ‘Well, well,’ the pirate captain drawled, looking over them coolly. Her eyes flashed as keenly as the cat’s on her shoulder, and Betty suddenly felt rather like a mouse that was being toyed with. Ronia’s gaze rested on Betty. ‘Not so dead, after all.’

  ‘Got her for you,’ Spit said, gesturing to Betty and puffing out his chest. ‘Gave me a right runaround she did, but I outsmarted her in the end.’

  Ronia gave him a
hard stare that was just long enough to make him squirm. ‘Big, burly looters?’ she said coolly. ‘It seems you and I both have some thinking to do, Spit.’

  ‘Th-thinking?’

  ‘About where your loyalties lie.’ Her tone dropped further, becoming icy. ‘Luckily, we’re going to have plenty of time on our hands.’

  ‘Why’s that?’ Spit asked, appearing decidedly nervous now.

  ‘Because we’re going on a little journey,’ Ronia replied. ‘To a place that could be very, very useful for the Rusty Scuttlers.’ She looked sideways at Fliss. ‘If it really exists.’

  Betty’s mouth dropped open. Surely Fliss hadn’t told Ronia about the secret island? Or had Ronia discovered the mysterious map and worked it out for herself? From the way Fliss was hanging her head, Betty was pretty sure it had been her sister’s doing. Either way, Ronia knew . . . and it was plain the idea of it excited her. But the thought of going on ‘a little journey’ with Ronia was the last thing Betty wanted and – from the haunted, wretched look on the little girl’s face – she knew Willow felt the same.

  ‘All aboard,’ Ronia said, with a thin smile. She reached out and took Charlie’s hand, then hauled her on to The Travelling Bag.

  Charlie gawped at her, awestruck. ‘Meddling magpies! Now that’s what I call a pirate!’

  Bandit hissed at her from Ronia’s shoulder, flicking his tail. Undeterred, Charlie blew him a kiss, then rushed into Fliss’s arms. Ronia’s bejewelled fingers reached for Betty, but instead of taking her hand they encircled her wrist, as tight as an iron band.

  ‘I’m watching you,’ she said, so quietly that her lips barely moved.

  Betty tried to wrench her hand out of the pirate’s grasp, but Ronia’s grip was like a manacle. She pulled Betty on to The Travelling Bag, then released her like she was something nasty caught up in a fishing net. Betty rubbed her sore wrist, wondering what else Ronia had discovered. Had she seen the wisp?