Charlie Bone and the Hidden King (Children of the Red King, Book 5) (3 page)

Now they could all hear it: a very, very distant scratching.

Billy jumped up and rushed to a door that led into the pantry.

"Billy, no . . ." Mr. Onimous snatched a flashlight from a shelf and hopped after Billy calling, "Come back, Billy. Do you hear me?"

"It's Rembrandt," said Billy's faint voice.

Charlie followed Mr. Onimous through a long room lined with shelves of dog food and then down a dark passage with an earthen floor and walls of bare rocks. The ceiling was only inches above Charlie's head, and it was so dark he could barely see Mr. Onimous scuttling ahead of him.

The Pets' Cafe was built into the ancient city wall, and they were now traveling along an underground passage that led to the very heart of the Red King's castle. By the time Charlie had caught up with Mr. Onimous, Billy had reached a small door at the end of the passage. Before Mr. Onimous could stop him, Billy wrenched open the door and leaped into the space beyond. He was now in a cavern whose curved walls were lined with large crates and lumpy-looking sacks.

Mr. Onimous stepped into the cavern with Charlie close behind him. In the beam of light from Mr. Onimous's flashlight, Charlie could see that Billy was holding a large black rat.

Oh, Rembrandt, where've you been?
Billy continued with a series of high squeaks and strange little hums.

The rat responded with a few squeaks of his own, and Billy said, "He's had a bit of an adventure. He went through - oh . . ." As he said this, he turned to see Mr. Onimous closing a very small door. Black and scarred with age, the door nevertheless perfectly fit a gaping hole in the wall.

"Wow! Where does that go?" asked Billy, staring at the door.

"It's just a hole," Charlie said quickly.

Mr. Onimous bent and retrieved a tiny brass key lying on the floor. "Animals," he grunted, fitting the key into a tiny lock in the ancient door. "They're too clever by half. I suppose it was you who unlocked the door, Rembrandt rat." He pocketed the key.

"Yes, it was him," said Billy. "But where
does
that lead to?"

"Billy, I want you to promise me something." Mr. Onimous's genial whiskery features had become almost severe. "I want you to promise never, ever to tell a single soul about this room or that door."

"Oh." For a moment Billy silently gazed at the door, and then understanding seemed to dawn on his eager face. "It's a secret passage, isn't it?" he whispered. "To the castle?"

"I'm waiting for your promise, Billy," Mr. Onimous said gravely.

"I promise never, ever to tell a soul about this place or that door," Billy said in a small voice.

Mr. Onimous smiled at last. "You don't need to know any more. Forget it. Understand?"

"Yes," came the whispered reply. Though how could Billy possibly forget such an exciting place?

The rat began to squeak again and they all trooped back to the kitchen to find out what he had to say.

"Any news of Runner?" asked Benjamin. "That's some rat, by the way."

"Name's Rembrandt," said Charlie, "and we think he's got something to tell us."

Rembrandt was placed in the center of the table, and when everyone had taken a place, Billy gave the rat a light, prompting hum. Rembrandt looked around at the expectant faces. He was a sociable rat and clearly enjoyed being the center of attention. With small squeaks, pauses, grunts, and twitters, he began his story. Gradually the sounds he made formed a pattern that Charlie could almost recognize as speech. Billy sat with his chin on his folded arms, gazing at Rembrandt and listening intently to his voice. When it was clear that the rat had uttered his last squeak, Billy picked him up and put him in his lap. The exhausted creature curled up and fell asleep.

"Go on, Billy," said impatient Benjamin. "What did he say?"

"Some of it's hard to explain," said Billy.

"Try," urged Charlie.

"Well - he said that last night something - kind of - woke up. And - and the earth shivered."

"We didn't notice, did we?" Mrs. Onimous looked at her husband.

"We're not animals, dear," he replied. "Not quite, anyway."

"Please,"
moaned Benjamin, "let him go on!"

With a shake of her smooth, feathery hair, Mrs. Onimous pointed her very long nose in Benjamin's direction. "I'm sorry to interrupt, I'm sure," she said tartly.

Benjamin ducked contritely and then quietly begged, "I just wanted to know about my dog."

Billy took a breath and continued. "Anyway, Rembrandt says that they were very frightened, him and the boa and Runner Bean, and instinct made them want to go - somewhere else. So Rembrandt got a key." Billy paused. "I think he said it was in your bedroom, Mr. Onimous."

"Little devil," muttered Mr. Onimous.

"And he unlocked a door," Billy went on quickly, "and they all went into a tunnel and - they went through the castle ruin, and all the mice and squirrels and birds and rabbits, and everything else that lived there, they all went too, and . . . and this is the hard bit, I think they went down a cliff - where the river roars - and over a bridge." Billy took off his glasses, which had steamed up. He rubbed them against his sleeve and put them on again. "Imagine all those animals pattering over a bridge."

"Maybe some swam," Charlie suggested.

"And some would fly," added Emma.

"Yes, birds would." Billy glanced at the frowning Benjamin and hurriedly continued. "And after a bit, they found somewhere safe. And that's where they are now; Runner Bean and the blue boa, and your duck too, I expect, Emma."

"Where?" Benjamin spread his hands.

"I don't know, do I?" Billy replied. "I mean, Rembrandt didn't tell me any names. He came back here because he wanted me to know what had happened. But he thinks the others might stay there."

Benjamin was speechless with dismay. In fact, everyone was silent, until Emma asked, "Why? Why do they want to stay?"

Billy stroked his rat's glossy coat. "I think Rembrandt was trying to say that it's a kind of - sanctuary."

" Sanctuary ? I never heard of such a place in this city," said Mrs. Onimous.

"But it isn't in the city. It's out there, on the other side of the river." Billy gazed over their heads to an imaginary paradise, floating somewhere in space.

"Billy, there's nothing on the other side of the river," said Mr. Onimous. "It's a wilderness."

With a cry of despair, Benjamin buried his face in his hands.

THE GIRL IN THE SUNSHINE COAT

Wilderness. The word was in everyone's mind but no one would say it out loud, just yet. By now, the city was crowded with Saturday shoppers and when the four children emerged from the Pets' Cafe, they headed for the quiet street that led to Ingledew's bookstore.

Every weekend Emma helped in the store, where she lived with her aunt Julia. Emma's aunt was wise and kind. She had read almost all the rare and ancient books on her shelves, and her knowledge of the city and its past was prodigious. She was bound to know about the wilderness across the river. There was also a strong possibility that Charlie's uncle Paton would be in the store. And so, without even discussing it, the children gravitated toward the two people who might be able to tell them what had happened to their animals.

Exhausted by his long journey, Rembrandt had fallen into a deep sleep. He lay curled in Billy's pocket, incapable of uttering another squeak.

As they drew near to the shop, the noise of the city receded and they became aware that something was wrong. None of them could say what it was, but in one way or another they all felt very uneasy.

"It's kind of spooky up here." Benjamin wrinkled his nose. "It never used to be."

There are no birds," said Emma. "They've all gone."

They had reached the wide cobblestoned square in front of the cathedral where, usually, at least a dozen grackles could be seen, strutting across the cobblestones, or shouting from the rooftops. Today there was not even a pigeon.

"No cats, either," Charlie observed. "There's always a cat mousing around the cathedral."

"And dogs." Benjamin spun on his heel, staring around the square. "On Saturdays people walk their dogs here. So, where are they?"

Billy spoke the words on everyone's mind: "In the wilderness."

Charlie felt a prickling sensation at the back of his neck. Someone was watching them. He whirled around, just in time to see a figure in yellow disappear into an alley. "We're being followed," he said quietly. "I saw a yellow, floaty thing down there."

No one looked where Charlie was pointing. They ran for the bookstore as though a monster were on their trail. Charlie followed them, stumbling down the steps into the store and bumping into Benjamin, who let out a yell of warning.

Distracted by the sudden commotion, Paton Yewbeam, balanced precariously at the top of a step-ladder, began to sway dangerously, and the armful of books he'd been placing on a high shelf almost slipped out of his grasp.

"Paton, look out!" Julia Ingledew sprinted across the room and steadied the ladder.

"What's the trouble?" Uncle Paton deposited the books and came down the ladder.

All four children spoke at once, causing Uncle Paton to cover his ears and exclaim, "For pity's sake, one at a time."

"Let's take a break," Miss Ingledew suggested.

They all piled into the small living room at the back of the store, and while the boys made themselves comfortable among the books on chairs and sofa, Emma described her morning, from the discovery of Nancy's empty duck house, to the absence of birds and animals in the city.

"I knew something was amiss," Uncle Paton said thoughtfully. "But I couldn't put my finger on it. I lose a few details when I'm wearing my dark glasses."

"But do you know anything about the wilderness across the river?" Charlie asked his uncle.

"I've never ventured that far," Uncle Paton said regretfully. "And why the animals should choose to go there, I have no idea."

"They were frightened," said Charlie.

"But we don't know why," said Emma.

"Yes, we do," put in Billy. "Rembrandt told us. Something woke up and the ground shivered."

"I'll never see Runner Bean again," moaned Benjamin. "Oh, why couldn't he have waited for me?"

Miss Ingledew, who had been tidying small areas of the room, stopped suddenly and looked hard at Billy. "Shivered? Did you say 'shivered'?" she asked Billy.

"Actually, Rembrandt said it," Billy told her.

"Ah. You have a theory about the ground, don't you, Julia?" Uncle Paton sat back with a smile.

They waited for Miss Ingledew to explain.

"You can make fun of me, but I have my reasons." She bent over her desk and began to shuffle papers into a drawer.

After a short and anxious interval, Charlie begged, "Please tell us about your theory, Miss Ingledew. We won't make fun of it."

Miss Ingledew pushed a lock of luxuriant chestnut hair away from her face and straightened up. "Very well, but I'm sure you've heard it all before, Charlie." She sat on the arm of Paton's chair. "As you know, the Red King, from whom you are all descended - except for you, of course, Benjamin - well, when the queen died and the king left to mourn alone in the forest, his ten children fought among themselves until five of them left the castle forever. But the fighting didn't stop. It continued for centuries, yes, centuries."

There was a buzz of surprise as the children uttered cries of "Wow! Centuries?" "Do you mean like hundreds and hundreds of years?"

Charlie said, "It's kind of happening now, isn't it? I mean, with the Bloors trying to control everyone, and Uncle Paton fighting them when they go too far . . ."

"And your ghastly grandma always against you," said Benjamin.

"Shush!" Uncle Paton lifted his hand. "If you want to hear what Miss Ingiedew has to say, kindly let her continue."

The children immediately fell silent.

Miss Ingiedew smiled around at everyone. "As I said, the killing went on for centuries. The land around the castle was a constant battleground, until in the eighteenth century, a fire destroyed almost every building in the city. Only this small area around the cathedral was saved, everything else had to be rebuilt.

It was at this time that the Bloor family erected a grand mansion on the grounds of the ruined castle."

"Bloor's Academy!" Charlie proclaimed.

"Exactly," Miss Ingledew confirmed. "Although at that time it was called Bloor House, I believe."

Benjamin, who was now scowling with impatience, said, "I don't see what all this has got to do with the ground shivering."

"No, of course not. I'm sorry. I'll explain," said Miss Ingledew. "It has to do with the history: all the troubled lives, the hatred, the fear, all buried under the ashes, under the ground, and under the city, all . . . She pressed the fingers of her two hands together. "All contained and yet . . . She glanced at Billy's ashen face. "Oh dear, I'm frightening you."

"You're not. You're not," cried Billy. "Please go on."

Miss Ingledew continued hesitantly. "Well, it occurred to me that certain of the more evil spirits - could be - er, restless . . .."

"Like someone turning in their grave," Charlie suggested eagerly.

"That's one way of putting it." She gave a light chuckle. "But really, Charlie, I meant that something, or someone, might have woken them up."

"And that's why the ground shivered," Billy broke in. "The Flame cats said they had to stop something being found."

"A key, no doubt," said Uncle Paton with a small yawn.

Charlie knew that his uncle's slightly bored tone belied his curiosity and he asked, "You don't mean an actual key, do you?"

"No, Charlie. More of an artifact, an item that would connect an ancient spirit with our world."

Billy suddenly leaped up. "Animals can sense things, you know. That's why they've all gone. If something from the past has woken up, it's brought memories with it: battles and fires, the pain and the terrible sounds. No wonder they ran away."

"I don't see how all this helps me!" cried Benjamin. "I mean, maybe I'll never, ever find my dog again."

The dreadful prospect of a city without animals of any kind suddenly dawned on everyone at the same time.

"It's like being under a curse," Emma remarked.

Uncle Paton didn't hold with such pessimism. "You're all being too gloomy," he said. "I'm sure the situation's temporary. Pretty soon that rat will wake up and tell you where they've all gone."

But Rembrandt didn't wake up. He lay in Billy's pocket all day, his only sign of life a very weak heartbeat.

On Sunday, a north wind blew clouds of freezing sleet into the city, and only the foolhardy ventured out.

Charlie and Billy played video games while Rembrandt, tucked in Billy's bed, emitted a faint ratty snore. A particularly violent gust of wind sent a slate crashing into the road and Charlie went to the window. There, sheltering beneath the bare chestnut tree, he saw the figure in yellow again. He was quite sure it was the person he had glimpsed ducking into an alley the day before. But this time, in spite of the sleet, he got a better look at her. If he wasn't mistaken she was Asian. Her coat was sunshine yellow. It had a loose hood and her black shoulder-length hair was held away from her face by a shiny butterfly clip.

When the girl saw Charlie, she smiled and raised her hand. Charlie waved back. As soon as he did this, the girl's smile widened, and then she ran off.

"Wait!" cried Charlie.

"Who are you talking to?" asked Billy.

"That girl." Charlie rushed out of the room. He leaped downstairs and ran across the hall. Flinging open the front door he called up the street, "Wait! Who are you?"

But the girl in the sunshine coat kept running until she was out of sight.

"What girl?" asked Billy when Charlie returned.

"Just a girl. She seems to know me, but she ran off."

Rembrandt gave a sudden squeak and sat up.

"Look, he's awake." Billy picked up the rat and began talking in his strange, piping rat-speak.

Rembrandt appeared to be listening. When Billy fell silent, the rat replied with a few weary squeaks.

Billy frowned. "He says he can't remember anything."

"What! He can't remember how he got to the sanctuary, or whatever it was?"

Billy spoke to Rembrandt again. He was answered in the same weak tones of an exhausted rat.

"He's got a picture of the place in his head, but he's completely forgotten how he got there."

"Then how are we going to find the other animals?" Charlie demanded.

"Don't know. But Rembrandt couldn't walk all that way again, even if he wanted to." Billy lifted one of the rat's feet. "Look, his pads are really sore, and he's lost a claw."

Charlie observed the rat's small feet. They certainly looked the worse for wear. He dropped gloomily onto his bed and thought of Benjamin, waiting seven long months to see Runner Bean, only to find that the dog he idolized had vanished. Charlie felt responsible.

Perhaps if he had taken better care of Runner, he wouldn't have run away.

"It's not your fault, Charlie," said Billy gently. "Grandma Bone would've killed Runner or sent him to an animal shelter. And anyway he was happy at the Pets' Cafe."

"I wonder if the animals will come back," mused Charlie, "or if they've all gone for good."

Later that evening Maisie came to fetch Rembrandt. She told the boys she would keep the rat in her room, safe from Grandma Bone, and return him to Mr. Onimous on Monday.

In the meantime, Charlie and Billy had to pack for the new school term. They worked in silence, folding their blue capes and white shirts, and tucking books, shoes, and socks at the bottom of their bags, each of them thinking of the new term ahead. Charlie wondered what the situation would be like in the King's room, where the descendants of the Red King held their silent battles during homework hours. At the end of the previous term, Charlie and his friends had seemed to gain the upper hand, but he knew the peace was temporary. The other five had been revealed as powerful enemies. There was bound to be conflict among the Children of the Red King.

The next morning, when Charlie stepped inside the tall doors of Bloor's Academy, he noticed that many of the children looked depressed. The rule of silence was not the only reason for the gloomy atmosphere. Shoulders were hunched, eyes downcast, and huge sighs were emitted as children found their way through the crowd and into the right coatrooms.

"Deary me, what a gloomy shower!" Manfred Bloor pushed his way through the throng. "What's the matter with you all? Give us a smile, Emma! Gabriel Silk, you look like you're at a funeral. Move out of my way, you moron."

Manfred had suddenly come face-to-face with Lysander Sage. Charlie noticed that his friend was now almost as tall as the headmaster's son. Lysander, wearing a look of grim determination, silently stood his ground.

"Move!" bellowed Manfred.

"Say 'please'!"

The children around the two young men instantly drew back, leaving Manfred and Lysander isolated in the center of the hall. Manfred's pale face had turned bright red. He scowled at Lysander, his black eyes narrowing and his eyebrows drawn into a furious line above his long nose.

Charlie held his breath. If Lysander didn't move quickly, he'd be hypnotized. Everyone in the hall was aware of the danger. Many of them had already been the victims of Manfred's paralyzing gaze, including Charlie.

Move, Sander, move,
Charlie silently implored his friend.

But Lysander wouldn't give way.

Manfred opened his mouth. A horrible gurgle came out. He was trying to threaten detention, but with a snort of contempt, Lysander slipped away and went into the green coatroom.

Charlie stood still, amazed by what he had seen. Manfred Bloor had failed to hypnotize or intimidate Lysander, and now he appeared to be in shock. He glared into the distance, horror and disbelief written across his bony face.

Billy tugged Charlie's cape. "We'd better get out of here," he whispered.

His warning came too late.

"What are you gawking at, Bone?" shouted Manfred, now even more furious than before.

"Nothing . . . I just . . . I thought I'd lost something."

"Your wits, most likely." Manfred turned abruptly and marched over to the prefects' room.

Charlie felt like shouting something rude at his back, but Billy pulled him into the blue coatroom. They were met by a buzz of conversation. At least ten children had lost their pets. Gabriel Silk looked even more forlorn than usual. Twenty of his gerbils were missing, also three ducks and his mother's pet goat.