Charlie Bone and the Red Knight. Jenny Nimmo
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there were those who had inherited the talents of their notorious ancestors. Prominent among them was a clairvoyant named Dolores Slingshot, so named because of her deadly accuracy with a catapult. Dolores was eighty years old and wore a wig of claret-coloured ringlets.
In a corner at the back of the room stood a huge white cube. Even in a corner it seemed to dominate the room. Everyone who entered eyed the cube with surprise and curiosity. As well they might, for it was hard to understand how the great white square had managed to get itself down the narrow passage outside. In fact, it hadn’t. Weedon had been forced to open up the disused doors at the side of the ballroom and push the cube (with the help of four removal men) through the garden and into the room. The whole process had been extremely difficult and exhausting. Even Weedon didn’t know what lay beneath the cladding. The visitors wondered if they were about to find out.
The last person but two to arrive was a sickly-looking arsonist called Amos Byrne. When he had taken his place, Weedon closed the doors and all eyes turned to the stage.
The grand piano had been pushed to the back and in its place stood an oval table covered with a purple cloth. At one end of the table an ancient man in a wheelchair sat grinning at the audience. Ezekiel Bloor’s white, waxy hair framed a face so gaunt and bony it looked more like a skull than the face of a living person. Next to him, and not smiling at all, his great-grandson, Manfred, sat slightly turned from his neighbour, an ashen-faced woman with strands of grey hair and a nose as blue as a bruise.
At the other end of the table, the headmaster, Dr Harold Bloor, was in the middle of a long, extremely boring speech when another guest arrived. He was a well-muscled man wearing only a string vest and camouflage trousers. He took a chair at the back, twirled it in one hand and brought it to rest with a loud bang. The headmaster glared at the latecomer and then resumed his speech. It went on for another ten minutes before grinding to a halt, and those of the audience who hadn’t fallen asleep were able to applaud.
The applause didn’t go on for as long as the headmaster would have liked, however, because the doors suddenly crashed open and a strong salty smell wafted into the room, followed by a large man.
‘Lord Grimwald!’ Dr Bloor’s mouth hung open. ‘We didn’t expect . . . that is to say we hardly dared to hope that you would arrive today. As you see, your . . . your . . .’ he pointed to the cube.
‘Sea Globe.’ Lord Grimwald smiled at the cube with satisfaction. ‘Well, I’m here now, so get on with it.’ He swayed down the narrow aisle between the seats as though his legs were of different lengths. His crinkled grey hair was streaked with a seaweedy green and his eyes were an icy aquamarine. The strong, salty smell that accompanied him caused several people to sneeze and cough.
‘We have already covered several issues,’ said Dr Bloor, ‘but I have not yet introduced –’
‘Yes, yes. Go on.’ Lord Grimwald climbed the steps up to the stage and Manfred, leaping up, hastily pulled an extra chair between himself and his neighbour.
Lord Grimwald sat down heavily on the empty chair. ‘Grimwald,’ he said, extending his hand to the woman on his left.
She took the eel-like fingers with a barely concealed look of distaste. ‘Titania Tilpin,’ she said, rising to her feet. ‘I am about to speak.’
Everyone in the room appeared to know Titania and wild applause broke out. She gave her audience a gratified smile and said, ‘I know what you are expecting and I shall not disappoint you.’
More applause. The headmaster frowned. He had not received such generous applause. ‘Allow Mrs Tilpin to speak,’ he said.
The woman smiled and drew from the folds of her sparkling black cloak a round mirror set in a jewelled frame. The mirror glass blazed so brilliantly some of the visitors had to cover their eyes. And then, with blissful sighs, the spellbound audience fell silent.
‘The Mirror of Amoret,’ announced Mrs Tilpin. ‘Most of my audience have seen it already, but for your benefit, Lord Grimwald, this mirror was made by the Red King for his daughter Amoret. It is nine hundred years old.’
‘And is an aid to travel,’ Lord Grimwald interrupted in a bored tone. ‘Yes, I’ve heard of it.’
‘Much more than an aid,’ Mrs Tilpin said indignantly. ‘I have only just begun to understand its many properties. Formerly I have used it to bring my ancestor, the enchanter Count Harken, into the city. He was eventually driven back into his own world – I won’t go into detail – but I have hopes that he can return again. Now, I have something to show you all.’ She turned and, tossing back her sequinned cloak, held the mirror so that its radiant light was beamed on the wall behind her.
A glowing circle appeared on the wall. It grew to the size of a small table. And then, within the circle, the fuzzy contours of plants and trees appeared. As a green jungle came into focus, a boy could be seen, wandering through the trees with a tiger at his side. The boy had snow-white hair and thick-lensed spectacles. Unfortunately a jagged line ran diagonally across the scene, cutting it in two.
‘Your mirror is flawed,’ Lord Grimwald observed.
‘Charlie Bone did it,’ snapped Mrs Tilpin. ‘Infernal boy. I had a promise from Ezekiel here that he would help to mend it. But, so far, his promises have come to nothing.’
‘I am old, Titania,’ Ezekiel protested. ‘My magic is waning and I must conserve my strength. I told you to consult Dorcas Loom. She can do it, I am certain.’
‘It is of no consequence,’ Lord Grimwald said with a yawn. ‘We can see the boy well enough. Continue, Mrs Tilpin.’
‘Of no consequence!’ Mrs Tilpin glared at Lord Grimwald. She shook her shoulders like a hen ruffling her feathers and the black cape sparkled. ‘My mirror is of great consequence.’
‘Of course, of course, Titania,’ said the headmaster. ‘Tell us more – our audience is waiting.’
With a defiant look at Lord Grimwald, Mrs Tilpin pointed to the white-haired boy. ‘Billy Raven,’ she said, ‘and a tiger that is not a tiger – an illusion conjured up by the enchanter to entertain the boy.’
Ezekiel gave a sudden cackle. ‘How delicious to see the little wretch trapped in Badlock, never to return. Never to claim his inheritance. There’s a will, you see, my friends.’ He wheeled himself to the front of the stage and addressed the audience directly. ‘That’s where you come in. The document is signed by my great-grandfather, Septimus Bloor. It leaves all his land, his treasures and even this house, to his oldest daughter, Maybelle, and her heirs. Her only remaining descendant is Billy Raven,’ Ezekiel turned his chair and pointed to the wall, ‘still strolling through the enchanted jungle. Billy is unaware, you see, and only I know the truth because it was told to me by my great-aunt Beatrice, a witch, who poisoned Maybelle and forged a false will leaving everything to my side of the family. But the real will still exists.’ Ezekiel banged the arm of his wheelchair with surprising vigour. ‘And I believe that Lyell Bone, father of Charlie, has hidden it.’
At this point Manfred stood up and, leaning over the table, declared, ‘It must never be found by anyone outside this room. Do you understand?’
A low murmur broke out. There were enthusiastic nods and cries of, ‘Never!’ and ‘We’ll see to it!’
‘See to it you must,’ said Manfred, his dark, hypnotic gaze travelling over the assembled villains. ‘Find it you must. Destroy it we must. Lyell Bone is at sea, hopefully never to return.’ He glanced at Lord Grimwald. ‘But he might have passed a hint, a clue to his son Charlie. We will deal with the boy. You must find the will.’
‘Carefully, mind,’ said Dr Bloor. ‘Nothing violent. We don’t want to cause suspicion or alert the law. The Pets’ Café is a good place to start. Councillor Loom and Norton Cross,’ he looked at Norton in the front row and Norton gave a nod, ‘they have helped us to close the place. Once the owners are evicted you can search the café. There may be a tunnel that leads to the