Charlie Bone and the Castle of Mirrors Read online

  There was a thunderous bang, and a reeking pall of smoke filled the room. As the onlookers choked and sputtered, a huge form lifted from the table and vanished into the billowing black clouds. Hidden under one of the tables at the far end of the room, a short, fat dog trembled and closed his eyes.

  A second violent bang shook the whole room, and Lucretia cried, "What happened?"

  "That bumbling idiot sneezed," shrieked Ezekiel.

  "Sorry sorry Couldn't help it," whined Manfred. "It was the dust."

  "Not good enough," scolded Venetia. "You should have taken your wretched nose outside. The whole thing's ruined. A waste of time."

  "Maybe not," Eustacia broke in. "Look at the table. The bones have gone."

  The smoke was clearing rapidly due to a sudden rush of cold air, and they all saw that the bones of Hamaran had indeed vanished. But Borlath's armor, helmet, cape, and gold pin still lay where they were, rather worse from the spell they had been subjected to.

  "Darn!" cried Ezekiel. He thumped the table with his fist, and the scorched garments shuddered. "It didn't work."

  "My part did," said Manfred. "The horse is out there." He pointed to a gaping hole in the wall.

  "Doggone it!" yelled Ezekiel. "My laboratory's wrecked, and there's a warhorse on the loose."

  “A warhorse with a tyrant's heart," said Venetia. "See, it's gone!"

  Where the heart had lain, there was now only a scorched black hole in the smoldering armor.

  “What does it mean?" asked Manfred in a hushed voice.

  Ezekiel stroked his long nose. "It means that all's not lost. But I'll need help. I think I'll call on a friend of mine, someone with a score to settle."

  Everyone looked at him, waiting for a name, but the old man was not ready to enlighten them.

  A warhorse could be very useful," said Venetia thoughtfully "providing one could ride it."

  They all stared at the empty space left by the bones, as though willing it to speak, and then Manfred said, "Billy Raven's good with animals."

  * * *

  In a long dormitory three floors beneath Ezekiel's attic, Billy Raven woke up, suddenly afraid. He turned to the window for a reassuring glimpse of the moon — and saw a white horse sail through ragged clouds, then disappear.

  THE PHANTOM HORSE

  On the first day of fall semester, Charlie Bone dashed down to breakfast with a comb sticking out of his hair.

  "What do you think you look like?" said Grandma Bone from her seat beside the stove.

  “A dinosaur?" Charlie suggested. "I pulled and pulled, but my comb wouldn't come out."

  "Hair like a hedge," grunted his bony grandmother. "Smarten yourself up, boy They don't like untidiness at Bloor's Academy"

  "Come here, pet." Charlie's more tenderhearted grandmother put down her cup of tea and tugged at the comb. Out it came with a clump of Charlie's hair.

  "Maisie! Ouch!" cried Charlie.

  "Sorry pet," said Maisie. "But it had to be done."

  "OK." Charlie rubbed his sore head. He sat at the kitchen table and poured himself a bowl of cereal.

  “You're late. You'll miss the school bus," said Grandma Bone. "Dr. Bloor's a stickler for punctuality"

  Charlie put a spoonful of cereal into his mouth and said, "So what?"

  "Don't speak with your mouth full," said Grandma Bone.

  "Leave him alone, Grizelda," said Maisie. "He's got to have a good breakfast. He probably won't have a decent meal for another five days."

  Grandma Bone snorted and bit into a banana. She hadn't smiled for three months, not since her sister Venetia's house had burned down.

  Charlie gulped down a mug of tea, flung on his jacket, and leaped upstairs to fetch his schoolbags.

  "Cape!" he said to himself remembering his blue cape still hanging in the wardrobe.

  Charlie pulled out the cape, and a small photograph fluttered to the floor. Charlie picked it up. "Benjamin Brown," he said with a smile. "Where are you?"

  The photograph showed a fair-haired boy kneeling beside a large yellow dog. Charlie had taken the photo himself, just before Benjamin's tenth birthday. There was no point in Charlie using his endowment to visit the scene of the photo. It could tell him nothing that he didn't already know

  In his eagerness to use his strange talent, Charlie often forgot that the people he "visited" could see him, too. Wherever they were when Charlie looked at their photos, they would see his face floating somewhere nearby So Benjamin, who was having a drink in Hong Kong, saw Charlie's smiling face in his orange juice.

  Benjamin took Charlie's magical appearances in his stride, but Runner Bean, his dog, could never get used to them.

  The big dog was about to have his breakfast in the Pets' Café when Charlie's face looked up from a bowl of cereal.

  Runner Bean leaped in the air with a howl; this sent a black rat scuttling under a cupboard, and a blue snake slithering back into its basket, and caused a very tall woman named Onoria Onimous to drop a plate of freshly baked scones. But the three colorful cats lying on top of the fridge merely yawned and closed their eyes.

  Charlie put the photo in his pocket, shoved the blue cape in his bag, and ran downstairs.

  "Don't forget . . .," Maisie shouted, but Charlie darted out the front door and ran to the top of Filbert Street.

  A blue school bus was about to drive off, when the door suddenly opened and a boy with a mop of curly chestnut hair popped his head out. "I saw you coming," said the boy "The driver said he couldn't wait, but I made him."

  "Thanks, Fido." Charlie handed one of his bags up to his friend Fidelio and climbed the steps into the bus.

  "Got your cape?" asked Fidelio.

  Charlie pulled the rumpled garment out of his bag. "I hate wearing it when I walk up Filbert Street. People laugh. There's a boy at number twenty who always shouts, “ere he comes, Little Boy Blue, off to Bloor's, like a cockatoo!' But I didn't ask to go to Bloor's, did I?"

  "You're not a cockatoo," Fidelio said with a laugh. "I bet you forgot to comb your hair again this morning."

  "I tried."

  The bus had come to a halt, and the two boys joined the crowd of children jumping down into a cobblestoned square. They walked past a fountain of stone swans and approached the steps leading to Bloor's Academy

  As Charlie walked into the shadow of the Music Tower, he found himself looking up at the steep roof of the turret. It had become a habit of his and he scarcely knew why he did it. Once, his mother had told him that she felt someone watching her from the small window under the eaves. Charlie gave an involuntary shiver and followed Fidelio through the wide-arched entrance.

  Surrounded by children in capes of blue, purple, and green, Charlie looked for Emma Tolly and Olivia Vertigo. He saw Emma in her green cape, her long blond hair in two neat braids, but he was momentarily baffled by the girl beside her. He knew the face, but . . . could it be Olivia? She was wearing a purple cape, like everyone else in drama, but Olivia's face was usually covered in makeup, and she always dyed her hair a vivid color. This girl had a scrubbed look: rosy cheeks, gray eyes, and short brown hair.

  "Stop staring, Charlie Bone," said the brown-haired girl, walking up to him.

  "Olivia?" Charlie exclaimed. "What's happened to you?"

  "I'm auditioning for a part in a movie," Olivia told him. "Got to look younger than I really am."

  They climbed another set of stone steps, and then they walked between two huge doors studded with bronze figures. As soon as all the children were safely inside, Weedon, the janitor, closed and locked the doors. They would remain locked until Friday afternoon, when the children were allowed home for the weekend.

  Charlie stepped into the vast flagstoned hall of Bloor's Academy "What's the movie?" he asked Olivia.

  "Shhh!" hissed a voice from somewhere near Charlie's ear.

  Charlie looked up into a pair of coal-black eyes and nearly jumped out of his skin. He thought Manfred Bloor had left the school.

  "I
hope you haven't forgotten the rules, Charlie Bone!" barked Manfred.

  "N-no, Manfred." Charlie didn't sound too sure.

  "Come on, then . . .." Manfred snapped his fingers and glared at Charlie, who looked down at his feet. He didn't feel like fighting Manfred's hypnotizing gaze so early in the day

  "Come on, what are the rules?" Manfred demanded.

  "Er . . . Silence in the hall, / Talking not at all, / Never cry or call, / Even if you fall . . . er . . ." Charlie couldn't remember the last line.

  "Write it out a hundred times and bring it to my office after snack time!" Manfred grinned maliciously

  Charlie didn't know Manfred had an office, but he had no intention of prolonging the unpleasant conversation. "Yes, Manfred," he mumbled.

  "You should be ashamed of yourself. You're in the second year now. Not a very good example for freshmen, are you, Charlie Bone?"

  "Nope." Charlie caught sight of Olivia rolling her eyes at him, and only just managed to stop himself from giggling. Luckily Manfred had spotted someone without a cape and strode away

  Olivia had disappeared into a sea of purple capes whose owners were crowding through a door beneath two bronze masks. Beyond the open door Charlie glimpsed the colorful mess that was already building up inside the purple coatroom. He hurried on to the sign of two crossed trumpets.

  Fidelio was waiting for him just inside the blue coatroom. "Whew! What a shock!" breathed Fidelio. "I thought Manfred had left."

  "Me, too," said Charlie. "That was the one good thing about coming back to Bloor's. I thought at least Manfred wouldn't be here." What was Manfred's new role? Would he be permanently on their tails, watching, listening, and hypnotizing?

  The two boys discussed the problem of Manfred as they walked to assembly On the first day of every school year, assembly was held in the theater, the only space large enough for all 300 pupils. Charlie hadn't joined Bloor's Academy until midsemester last fall; it was a new experience for him.

  "Yikes, I'd better hurry" said Fidelio, looking at his watch. "I should be tuning up."

  Dr. Saltweather, head of music, gave Fidelio a severe nod as he climbed up to the stage and took his place in the orchestra. Charlie joined the end of the second row and found himself standing directly behind Billy Raven. He turned around with a worried frown.

  "I've got to stay in the first year for another twelve months," he whispered to Charlie, "but I've already done it twice."

  "Bad luck! But you are only eight." Charlie scanned the row of new children in front of him. They all looked fairly normal, but you could never tell. Some of them might be endowed like himself and Billy children of the Red King.

  For the rest of the morning, Charlie traipsed through the huge, drafty building, finding his new classroom, collecting books, and looking for Mr. Paltry who was supposed to be giving him a trumpet lesson.

  By the time the hunting horn sounded for lunch, Charlie was utterly exhausted. He slouched down to the cafeteria, averting his eyes from the portraits that hung in the dimly lit corridor — just in case one of them wanted a conversation — and arrived at the blue cafeteria.

  Charlie joined the line. A small, stout woman behind the counter gave him a wink. “All's well, then, Charlie?" she asked.

  "Yes, thanks, Cook," said Charlie. "But it'll take me a while to get used to the second year."

  "It will," said Cook. "But you know where I am if you need me. Peas, Charlie?"

  Charlie accepted a plate of macaroni and cheese and peas, then wandered around the tables until he found Fidelio, sitting with Billy Raven and Gabriel Silk. Gabriel's floppy brown hair almost obscured his face, and there was a forlorn droop to his mouth.

  "What's up, Gabe?" asked Charlie. “Are your gerbils OK?"

  Gabriel looked up sadly. "I can't take piano this semester. Mr. Pilgrim's gone."

  "Gone?" Charlie was unexpectedly dismayed. "Why? Where?"

  Gabriel shrugged. "I know Mr. Pilgrim was peculiar, but — well, he was just — brilliant."

  No one could deny this. Mr. Pilgrim's piano playing was often heard echoing down the Music Tower. Charlie realized he would miss it. And he would miss seeing Mr. Pilgrim staring into space, his black hair always falling into his eyes.

  Fidelio turned to Billy "So how was your summer, Billy?" he asked carefully For how could anyone spend their whole summer vacation in Bloor's Academy without going mad?

  "Better than usual," said Billy cheerfully "Cook looked after Rembrandt like she promised, and I saw him every day And Manfred went away for a bit so it was OK here, really except . . . except" — a shadow crossed his face — "something happened last night. Something really weird."

  "What?" asked the other three.

  "I saw a horse in the sky"

  A horse?" Fidelio raised his eyebrows. "Do you mean a cloud that looked like a horse?"

  "No. It was definitely a horse." Billy took off his glasses and wiped them on his sleeve. His deep red eyes fixed themselves on Charlie. "It sort of hung there, outside the window, and then it just faded."

  "Stars can do that," said Gabriel, who had perked up a bit. "They can create the illusion of animals and things."

  Billy shook his head. "NO. It was a HORSE." He replaced his glasses and frowned at his plate. "It wasn't far away It was right outside the window It reared up and kicked the air, like it was fighting to be free, and then it just — faded."

  Charlie found himself saying, “s if it were receding into another world."

  "That's right," said Billy eagerly "You believe me, don't you, Charlie?"

  Charlie nodded slowly "I wonder where it is now?"

  "Wandering around the castle ruins with all the other ghosts?" Fidelio wryly remarked. "Come on, let's get some fresh air. We might see a horse galloping around the garden."

  Of course, he was only joking, but as soon as the four boys walked through the garden door, Fidelio realized that his words held a ghostly ring of truth. He was the only one of the four who was not endowed. Fidelio might be a brilliant musician, but his endowment was not one that could be classified as magical.

  It was Charlie who noticed it first, a faint thudding on the dry grass. He looked at Gabriel. "Can you hear it?"

  Gabriel shook his head. He could hear nothing, but there was a presence in the air that he couldn't define.

  Billy was the most affected. He stepped back suddenly his white hair lifting in a breeze that no one else could feel. He put up his hand as if to ward off a blow "It went right past," he whispered.

  Fidelio said, "You're joking, aren't you?"

  '"Fraid we're not," said Charlie. "It's gone now Maybe it just wanted us to know it was here."

  They began to cross the wide expanse of grass that Dr. Bloor liked to call his garden. It was really no more than a field, bordered by nearly impenetrable woods. At the end of the field, the red stones of an ancient castle could be glimpsed between the trees: the castle of the Red King. The four boys almost instinctively made their way toward the tall red walls.

  Charlie's uncle Paton had told him how; when Queen Berenice died, five of the Red King's children had been forced to leave their father's kingdom forever. Brokenhearted, the king had vanished into the forests of the north, and Borlath, his elder son, had taken the castle. He had ruled the kingdom with such barbarous cruelty most of the inhabitants had either died or fled in terror.

  "Well?" said Fidelio. "Do you think the phantom horse is here?"

  Charlie looked up at the massive walls. "I don't know." He turned to Billy

  "Yes," he whispered. "It's here."

  The others listened intently They could hear the distant shouts and chatter of children on the field, the thump of a soccer ball, the call of wood pigeons, but nothing else.

  "Are you sure, Billy?" asked Charlie.

  Billy hugged himself. He was shivering. "I think it would like to speak, but it's caught on the wrong side."

  "Wrong side of what?" asked Fidelio.

  Billy frowned. "I
can't explain."

  Charlie became aware that someone was standing behind them. He turned around, just in time to see a small figure dart away and join a group of new boys playing soccer together.

  "Who was that?" asked Gabriel.

  "New boy" said Charlie.

  It was impossible to tell whether the boy was in art, drama, or music because he wasn't wearing a cape. Today it was warm and sunny Summer was not yet over.

  The sound of the horn rang out across the field and the four boys ran back to school.

  For Charlie, the afternoon was no better than the morning. He found Mr. Paltry at last, but too late for his lesson. "What's the point of coming to a lesson without your trumpet?" grumbled the old teacher. "You're a waste of time, Charlie Bone. Endowed, my foot. Why don't you use your so-called talent to locate your trumpet? Now get out and don't come back until you've found it."

  Charlie left quickly He had no idea where to look. "The Music Tower?" Charlie asked himself. Perhaps one of the cleaners had found his trumpet and put it in Mr. Pilgrim's room at the top of the tower.

  The way to the Music Tower led through a small, ancient-looking door close to the garden exit. Charlie braced himself, opened the door, and began to walk down a long, damp passage. It was so dark he could barely see his own feet. He kept his eyes on a distant window in the small circular room at the end of the passage.

  As he got closer to the room, he began to hear voices, angry voices — men arguing. There was a clatter of footsteps. Charlie stood still until whoever it was had reached the bottom of the long, spiraling J staircase. A figure appeared at the end of the passageway It loomed toward Charlie and raised its purple wings, blocking out the light.

  Plunged into darkness, Charlie screamed.

  THE BOY WITH PAPER IN HIS HAIR

  “Quiet!" hissed a voice.

  Charlie shrank against the wall as the person, or thing, swept past and whisked itself through the door into the hall.

  Charlie didn't know what to do. Should he go back the way he had come or on toward the tower? The hissing person might be in the hall, waiting for him. He chose the tower.

  As soon as he emerged in the round sunlit room at the end of the passageway Charlie felt better. Those purple wings had been the arms of a cape, he reasoned. And the angry person was probably a member of the school's staff, arguing with someone. He began the long, spiral ascent to the top of the tower. Bloor's Academy had five floors, but Mr. Pilgrim's music room was up yet another flight.