Charlie Bone And The Red Knight (Children Of The Red King, Book 8) (18 page)

18

REMBRANDT'S FLY

A journey with Amoret's mirror was nothing like traveling through a painting. By the time Charlie had reached his destination, his head had been filled with images that would never desert him: golden sand hills as smooth as velvet, a camel racing through trees with a tiny boy riding him, domed cities, and a sea the color of sapphires.

And then Charlie was standing in a castle of white stone where a duel was taking place between a boy of African descent in crimson and a yellow-haired youth in emerald green. The clash of swords rang in Charlie's ears as he was torn from the scene and drifted in a vast gray ocean; above him an orange sail flapped in the wind. He glimpsed white cliffs, an endless forest, and a blood-red castle.

And now Charlie was falling, tumbling, twisting in an avalanche of rocks, flying across a barren landscape where black towers leaned into a stormy sky. "Badlock," Charlie cried as the wind tossed him through the air. He was hurtling toward a mountain that rose before him like a curtain of stone. But before he hit the mountain, Charlie was lifted above a palace of black marble where flames streamed from iron brackets set into the wall. And then he was falling, falling, falling....

Someone screamed. Charlie shook his head and rubbed his eyes. He was sitting on a very soft carpet patterned in rich colors.

"Charlie Bone!" said a shocked voice.

Charlie turned his head. And there was Matilda perched on the end of a four-poster bed. She was wearing the same buttercup yellow dress that she had worn the last time Charlie saw her.

"Hello!" Charlie found himself grinning happily, even though his head still ached and he felt bruised all over.

Matilda slipped off the bed and gently helped Charlie to his feet. "I am so very pleased to see you," she said.

"But I thought you would arrive through my grandfather's painting."

Charlie held up the mirror. "I used this."

"Oh!" Matilda looked astonished. "But I've seen that here, in my grandfather's spell room. It was a long time ago, and I was very young."

Charlie frowned at the mirror. "How can it be in two places at once?"

"No, no." Matilda shook her head. "The enchanter took it back to your world. He told me he had buried it there for the future. How did you find it?"

"It's a long story." Charlie turned the mirror over and over in his hands. "I'd like to know its history."

"Perhaps you will one day." Matilda took Charlie's hand and pulled him down to sit beside her on the bed. "I can't tell you how happy I am to see you," she said, looking deep into his eyes. "You didn't hear me, did you, when I touched a window in the picture of your house?"

Charlie shook his head regretfully. "There's a woman named Alice in our house. She's a kind of guardian angel.

She heard your voice. She senses things, and she has an affect on people. My grandma's a bully and a grump usually, but since Alice came she's been all slow and sleepy."

"The enchanter can do that, too," said Matilda, "but he doesn't often bother. My grandmother has a temper and so does my brother. But the enchanter watches with amusement when they rant and rave."

They smiled at each other and Charlie wished the moment would last forever. He could imagine himself living here, in this incredible room with its green marble walls, its soft, bright carpets and gleaming black furniture.

"You've come for Billy, haven't you?" Matilda asked. "I knew you would."

"For Billy, yes..." Charlie hesitated. "And maybe you. Do you think it would work, Matilda? Could you come back with me?"

She beamed at him and then quickly turned away, as if she were trying to hide the sudden sadness in her face.

"The enchanter can read my mind," she said at last. "He knows that you came here before, trying to rescue Billy. And he knows that I have been thinking of you often."

"Often?" said Charlie happily.

Matilda gave him a haughty glance. "Who else am I to think about, living in this vast lonely palace? Outside, the wind roars and nothing exists but dark crawling things." She nudged his arm. "So you mustn't think too much of yourself."

Charlie grinned. "You were saying... about the enchanter," he reminded her.

Her smiled faded and she said, "One day the enchanter told me that he knew my future, that I would never travel nine hundred years ahead and live in the Red King's city. I will marry and live in a place called Venice. My husband-to-be is rich and handsome, and I will travel there by boat and carriage when I am sixteen. So you see, I cannot come with you even though" -- she dropped her voice -- "I might wish it."

"Just because he sees your future in some crystal ball, it doesn't mean that it can't be changed," said Charlie gruffly.

Matilda slid off the bed. "There is no crystal ball, Charlie. It is my fate. Now let us go to Billy. If luck is with us, the guard will be taking his meal in the kitchen; he lingers there for longer than he should, knowing that Billy cannot escape."

"Escape?" said Charlie. "Where is Billy?"

"In the dungeons, where they kept your ancestor the giant."

Charlie leaped off the bed. "Why is he there? I thought he was happy here, being treated like a prince."

"It was the rat's fault," Matilda told him. "He made a fuss."

Charlie had to smile. "Trust Rembrandt." And then all at once it struck him that he had traveled thoughtlessly. He had left the boa behind, the snake that made him invisible. He clutched his hair, moaning, "Oh-, Matilda, I've been so stupid. I forgot the snake.

How am I going to get through the palace without being seen?"

Matilda didn't look in the least perturbed. From inside her gown she produced a large iron key. "A copy," she told Charlie, "made by a friend." And raising her voice, she called, "Dorgo, are you there?"

The door opened and a small being shuffled in. Charlie couldn't help a slight intake of breath, not a gasp exactly but loud enough to make Matilda smile. "Billy tells me that there are none like Dorgo in your city," she said, patting the being's shoulder.

Charlie gulped. "None." Indeed, he had never seen such a small, square, lumpish thing. Its hair, if it had any, was hidden in a big woolen cap, and its body was covered, rather than dressed, in a long brown robe. But it had a gentle face and kind gray-brown eyes.

"Dorgo, give your clothes to Charlie," said Matilda.

Showing no surprise or embarrassment, Dorgo pulled off his cap and held it out. A head of brown bristles was revealed, rather like a hedgehog's spines. Charlie took the cap and put it on, then Matilda helped him to tuck all his hair inside. This wasn't difficult, as the cap was so large it covered his ears and eyebrows. While they were dealing with Charlie's hair, Dorgo lifted the brown robe over his head and dropped it on the floor.

Charlie was relieved to see that Dorgo's square body was still hidden in yellow underwear. Seizing the brown robe, Matilda dropped it over Charlie's head. "Bend your knees," she commanded. "Now, let's go."

Charlie obediently followed Matilda to the door. But before he shuffled out, he looked back and thanked the small being whose clothes he was wearing.

Dorgo beamed. "Is good," he said.

"Quick!" hissed Matilda. "We must hurry. I can hear movements below. The guards are leaving the kitchen."

Charlie shuffled after her. It was not easy to hurry with bent knees.

"Lower," whispered Matilda. "You are still too tall."

Charlie groaned and crouched even lower. Now it was impossible to walk properly. He lurched from side to side as he moved his bent legs forward.

Matilda put her hand over her mouth but failed to stifle a giggle. "You really do look like Dorgo now," she whispered.

They were making for a marble staircase that led down to the lower regions of the palace, but before they got there, a woman appeared at the top of the stairs. "My lady Matilda," she said. "The countess wants to see you. The shoe smith has come with some fine leather. You are to have your feet measured."

"Oh!" Matilda stopped in the middle of the passage, her hand resting on Charlie's shoulder. "Must I come now?"

The woman came toward them. She had a pale, stern face and her brown hair was pulled back severely into a silver net. Her dress was the color of dark ivy, and colored beads glittered at her neck. "Who is this servant?" The woman's cold, gray eyes rested on Charlie. "I have not seen him before."

Matilda gave a nervous laugh. "Of course you have, Donata. But they all look the same, don't they? This one is young. I am instructing him."

"The countess will not be kept waiting." Donata turned on her heel and swept down the staircase.

Matilda and Charlie stared at each other in dismay.

"Can you remember the way to the dungeons?" Matilda asked softly. "I dare not come with you now."

"I think so," Charlie said dismally. "Oh, Matilda, I can't believe I'll never see you again."

"Nor I," she said. "It is sad to part like this."

"My lady!" Donata called from the foot of the stairs.

"I'm coming." Matilda put one foot on the stair, then turned back to Charlie. "The key," she whispered, putting it into his hand. "Wait a few minutes after I am gone. And keep Dorgo's clothes with you when you go. He will be in trouble if you leave them in the dungeon. I can easily find another outfit for him."

Charlie nodded and slipped the key into his pocket, beneath the brown robe. "Good-bye, Matilda," he murmured.

"Fare thee well, Charlie." She bent and kissed his cheek, and then she was gone, her fine leather shoes tap-tapping on the marble staircase and then receding into the distance. Somewhere deep within the palace, a heavy door clanged shut. And then all was silent.

The mirror seemed to move beneath Charlie's fingers, warm and smooth. He must hurry. Deciding not to attempt a descent on bent legs, Charlie straightened up and ran down the staircase. At the bottom he crouched again and shuffled forward. It took him some time to get his bearings.

Count Harken's palace had few windows. The wide corridor that Charlie was lurching along was carpeted in furs and lit by flaming rushes. Peering into the hallways that led off the corridor, he saw one that he recognized and, straightening his knees, dashed into it. Here there were no rushlights, and it became darker and darker. Claerwen crawled from inside Charlie's collar and flew ahead, her soft light showing rock walls and a floor of brick and rubble.

Deeper and deeper they went. The air was thin and stale. At last Charlie reached a familiar half circle of iron railings. Behind the railings a stairway of rocky steps twisted down into an even greater darkness.

Was the troll guard already there, waiting to grab him? Charlie had no way of knowing. He cautiously began to descend the steep steps. He was only halfway down when he heard footsteps approaching, and then a deep, hoarse voice echoed along the hallway above him. Someone, the troll probably, was attempting to hum a monotonous tune.

Charlie tore down the rest of the steps, stumbling and slipping on the rocky surface. He arrived at last in a cavelike room where a candle spluttered on a table. Beyond the table Charlie could see the bars of a cell. He leaped toward the cell and, looking through the bars, saw a small figure curled on a rough bed of straw.

"Billy!" Charlie whispered. "It's me, Charlie!"

Billy sat up. He stared at Charlie, aghast. "W-what?"

Charlie briefly lifted Dorgo's cap. "See! It's me. I've come to take you back."

"CHARLIE!" cried Billy.

"Shhh!" warned Charlie. "Someone's coming." The footsteps above had increased their pace. Now they were descending the rough steps.

Charlie fitted Matilda's key into the lock on the cell door, and it swung open. He leaped inside.

"How... how are we going to... ?" Billy began.

Charlie held up the mirror. "With this, and with Claerwen. Hold my hand."

"Wait!" cried Billy. He ran over to his rat, who was crouching beside a small hole in the wall. "He's waiting for his friend," said Billy. "But, Rembrandt, we've got to go." He clutched the rat, who gave a loud squeal and began to struggle violently.

"Quick!" said Charlie, grabbing Billy's hand. "We must go, NOW!" He looked into the mirror and thought of Emma waiting for him in the spare room at number nine. He could see her face now, pale and anxious. Charlie wished himself there, beside her. "Claerwen, let's go," he cried.

Feet appeared, stumbling down into the guard's room. And there was Oddthumb the troll leaping toward the cell, his hand, with its great thumb, extended toward them.

All at once Charlie was rocked off his feet and was tugged upward, the mirror burning one hand and Billy's fingers clutched in the other.

The second journey was nothing like the first. How many tricks could the mirror play, Charlie wondered, as they tumbled through the dark. Wind howled in their ears, "and hailstones beat into their faces. Their legs kicked aimlessly, reaching for a solid mass to land on. And still they whirled, over and over, around and around.

"Ahhh!" groaned Charlie. His knees hit the floor and he fell in a crumpled heap, unable to brace himself with either hand, as one still held fast to the mirror and the other clung to Billy Raven.

"That was quite something," said a voice.

Charlie let go of Billy's hand and rolled onto his back.

Emma peered down at him. She was smiling. "You've got him," she said. "Well done."

Charlie turned his head. Billy was lying beside him. One of the lenses in his glasses had cracked and he looked quite sinister with a starburst covering his eye.

"You didn't have time to change, then," Emma remarked.

Charlie slowly got to his feet. He was still wearing Dorgo's woolen cap and ill-fitting gown. Billy was dressed in a blue velvet jacket, braided in gold at the collar and cuffs, and blue velvet trousers. The outfit looked somewhat the worse for wear. The front was stained and the pants torn. On one foot he wore a very long pointed shoe. His other foot was bare.

Rembrandt was sitting on Billy's chest, squealing endlessly. Billy sat up. "I'm sorry about Gloria," he told the rat in a series of small squeaks. "But it was then or never. Anyway, we couldn't have brought her back."