The Shadow Thief Page 12

  Expectation hung in the air. A hush fell over the crowd as they acknowledged that something momentous was about to happen.

  With narrowed eyes, Lord Aldor cast a devious glance across the awed spectators and raised his arms majestically.

  ‘Let the magic begin!’

  Part III

  The Reunion

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The Hocus Pocus Ball

  The ballroom erupted into life. Fire-breathers spouted flames and jugglers’ balls filled the air. The nymphs began to dance, their gossamer gowns fluttering around them. Clowns glided around on unicycles, pulling silver coins from behind the ears of startled guests and rewarding their good humour with limerick-reciting balloons. Acrobats wearing skin-tight suits formed human pyramids towering almost to the ceiling. The man with the piano keys as fingers and his lady friend with the violin hair joined others with various musical instruments for body parts and formed an ensemble. They struck up a jig just as a little genie sitting cross-legged on a tiny square of carpet came whizzing through the air towards Milli, forcing her to duck to avoid a collision.

  It was hard to take anything in because everything was happening at once. Trolleys piled high with such epicurean gems as battered chicken feet and calamari-filled calzone (which is Italian for folded pizza) were wheeled in by the maids. The only thing Milli and Ernest recognised were the mini Honeylik Seed breadsticks, and even these had been baked in the shape of question marks as if they too wanted to add to the evening’s air of intrigue.

  It was a measure of how overwhelming everything was that Ernest felt quite relieved when Mrs Mayor came rushing towards them. She was accompanied by a severe-looking woman in a newsprint suit and chunky heels. Her hair was coiled at the nape of her neck and she wore a pair of glasses with garish red frames. Behind her scuttled junior photographer Bud Snapper. Snapper was a shark-eyed ferret of a boy with an unsightly case of acne and buck teeth. He bustled through the throng, eyes darting in the hope of catching anything newsworthy.

  ‘Crumpet and Gumm!’ Mrs Mayor beckoned to them. ‘There is someone in particular I’d like you to meet. This is Miss Pandora Scoop, renowned gossip columnist for the Talisman Times.’ Mrs Mayor placed particular emphasis on Pandora’s position in order to drive home the point to anyone within earshot of just how well-connected she was. Pandora offered the children ink-stained digits to shake. ‘Her fingers are the tools of her trade,’ Mrs Mayor added, nodding sagely. Unsure of what this was supposed to mean, the children simply nodded in return.

  Pandora draped an arm casually around their shoulders. ‘Time for a chat?’ she purred.

  Pandora Scoop steered them through the crowd to a secluded corner of the ballroom. ‘So,’ she began cosily, whipping a pad from her blazer pocket as if it were a weapon, ‘how does it feel to be raised like royalty? Do you feel overcome by this generosity? Are you flabbergasted and flummoxed by such kindness?’ Pandora began busily jotting notes even before the children could begin to formulate a reply. Her fingers were indeed the tools of her trade: ink flowed freely from her nails as from the nib of a pen whenever Pandora had something of importance to record.

  ‘Actually,’ Ernest informed her, ‘we were kidnapped.’

  ‘Kidnapped!’ Pandora gasped, frantically scribbling. ‘Your families didn’t want you to have better lives? They tried to kidnap you from Hog House and drag you back to the life of obscurity into which you were born? They must have rocks in their heads! Or was it that they couldn’t handle their children living a life to which they might never aspire?’ Tears began to glisten in the corners of Pandora’s eyes. ‘What a tragic tale.’

  Satisfied that her photograph was taken from her ‘good side’ and that she would make it onto the front page of the Talisman Times, Mrs Mayor allowed herself to be distracted by other acquaintances.

  ‘Come along, children,’ she said, and tugged at them, becoming slightly more gentle when she saw Bud Snapper continue his maniacal clicking.

  It was around this time that Milli and Ernest realised Mrs Mayor had told them a fib. She had said, ‘I’d like you to meet someone.’ What she ought to have said was, ‘There are several dozen people I would like you to meet.’ The children were introduced to Helga and Helena Fleabottom, the fortune-telling sisters whose heads were as spherical and translucent as crystal balls; Serena Decanter, an enchantress who claimed to be able to put people to sleep using just her voice, or, in difficult cases, using just her voice and a slurp of tomato soup; Artie Gingerdough, most of whose features were edible; and Gloria Munchmite who could change the colour and shape of her eyes and tongue with a simple incantation. Ernest cowered behind Mrs Mayor at the sight of Miss Munchmite’s ordinary pink tongue suddenly turning mossy green and forking at the tip.

  Against her better judgement, Milli exchanged pleasantries with a small bald gentleman who introduced himself as Mr Pongo. True to his name, Mr Pongo could transform himself to smell like any of the world’s greatest pongs, both pleasant and objectionable. Milli was glad that for the short time she spoke to him Mr Pongo gave off the inviting odour of freshly brewed coffee, although later in the evening, she smelled the more offensive odour of broccoli soup for which she suspected Mr Pongo was responsible.

  A commotion on the stage finally drew Mrs Mayor’s attention away from introductions. The diamanté-studded curtains were beginning to part. The Magic Show was about to begin!

  ‘Are you even listening to me?’ Ernest demanded. Milli was so entranced by the rainbow bubbles being blown by the river sprites on the stage that she hadn’t heard a word he’d said.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ she grumbled.

  Ernest waved the typed program in her face. ‘Third item of the evening,’ he read aloud, ‘A Marvellous Surprise, by Buttercup Crumpet and Mozart Bluegumm. We’re up next!’

  They pushed their way to the front of the ballroom and disappeared backstage. Amongst the trolls warming up their voices with blow torches, and a group of witches rehearsing a skit in which they entice and deceive a power-hungry Scottish king, stood the prisoners. They were disguised in robes and top hats ransacked from the Masquerade Room and were gathered around the Vanishing Closet trying hard not to look out of place.

  Thunderous applause rippled through the ballroom. Before Milli and Ernest could say ‘Hocus Pocus’, the curtains had rolled open and they were staring into a blinding white spotlight. Hundreds of expectant faces stared back at them. Mrs Mayor had pushed her way to the front of the crowd and was gnawing at her fingernails in anxiety, while Mr Mayor cheered them on. The party on the stage remained silent. Everything relied on this performance and now, facing the audience, their plan seemed so far-fetched and certainly bound to come unstuck. What had possessed them to think that something so childish could work? But there was no turning back now.

  The Master of Ceremonies, Frank Fanfare, dressed in a canary yellow suit and bow tie, was already introducing them.

  ‘Our third item of the evening is a surprise for our gracious hosts, prepared by their newly acquired and precocious offspring, Crumpet and Gumm. These children are about to vanish before your very eyes! Ladies and gentlemen, let me assure you that the closet you see before you is no ordinary box. It possesses magical powers! Powers able to transport its occupants to other dimensions before returning them to a location right here in this ballroom. It will be up to you to locate them on their return. Clues as to their whereabouts will appear throughout the evening, so be watchful. The first to find the children will be richly rewarded!’

  There was a buzz at the mention of a reward and, not wanting to waste valuable time, some of the guests already began looking around for early clues.

  A glamorously attired Nettle stepped onto the stage. Dressed as a showgirl and looking a far cry from her usual grubby self, she made a big production of opening the Vanishing Closet and ushering Milli and Ernest inside. The crowd fell silent as the prisoners began a primitive drum beat.

  The children joined hands
and stepped tentatively inside. With the closet door safely bolted behind them, Milli and Ernest fumbled around in the darkness for their cloaks, which would soon allow them to pass unnoticed through the crowd. They were lying in a heap on the floor and putting them on in such confined quarters proved no easy feat. The children wriggled and collided, nearly sending the whole construction toppling to the ground. Fortunately, the audience, being made up of quite impressionable characters, seemed to think this was all part of the proceedings. The prisoners started up a chant in gibberish and surrounded the Vanishing Closet. This was the children’s cue.

  Milli and Ernest slid open the box’s false back and slipped out. With their backs pressed against the closet, they were out of view of the audience. Nimble and invisible as cat burglars, they darted from their hiding place and joined the twirling mass of capes and top hats circling the closet that had been created as a diversion. Disguised as part of the dance, Milli and Ernest saw Nettle reveal the empty Vanishing Closet. The audience gasped in wonder. Mrs Mayor dabbed at her nose with a lacy hanky, overcome by the emotion of it all. Only Lord Aldor did not look entertained; his eyes darted suspiciously about the room for signs of anything amiss. Finding nothing, his usual implacable and bored expression returned.

  With low bows, the caped dancers whirled their way off the stage, wheeling the Vanishing Closet with them. The audience turned their attention to the next item on the program. This happened to be an Indian snake charmer who could not only lure his cobra to rear out of its basket but also entice it to twist itself into a number of geometric shapes.

  A minor hiccup in the lumbering form of Gristle was waiting for the children backstage. He was clutching a giant teddy bear. Milli recognised it immediately as the one from their nursery whose pouch she had absconded with. Gristle lurched as he held it out to her. Milli looked from him to the bear and back again in bemusement, trying to work out what in the world the florid-faced Gristle was doing.

  ‘Bravo,’ he slurred, a little unsteady from one too many martinis. He waved the bear around, insisting Milli take it. She soon worked out it was easier to accept the offering than argue with him. Giving them a gruff smile, Gristle flung his club over one shoulder and clomped away to find another drink.

  The revelry behind them, the children found themselves in the sudden stillness of a moonlit night. The full moon in the velvet sky seemed to be collaborating with them as the grounds were awash with light. They found the others waiting for them and, with their cloaks wrapped tight, they followed the meandering banks of the River Slop. Nothing but the occasional rustling of grass beneath their feet or the chirping of a lone cricket could be heard. When they finally reached the Lurid Lagoon it lay shimmering under the stars like a glassy mouth waiting to swallow them up. There was not a second to waste. Kneeling, they untied and heaved the nearest gondola into the red water, surprised at how heavy it was. The oars lay tucked neatly under its bow. Milli passed one to Ernest as he climbed in.

  ‘You will be careful?’ Rosie entreated, handing them the pouch with their provisions.

  ‘Of course,’ Milli replied, sounding more confident than she actually felt. ‘We’ll be there and back in no time.’

  ‘I know you can do this,’ Rosie whispered.

  The seriousness of the mission they were about to embark upon, coupled with the fact that they might not see their friends again, lent a gravity to their parting. If someone had told Milli a few months ago that the prudent and sensible Ernest would soon be her fellow adventurer on a journey from which they may never return, she would have thought they were barmy. But now here was Ernest sitting beside her and, for the first time, looking surprisingly composed.

  ‘Although you can do this,’ Leo added, ‘we are not going to let you do it alone. Nettle and I are coming with you!’

  It was as plain as bread and butter from the defiant jut of Leo’s chin that there would be no deterring him. But Milli and Ernest didn’t want to; in fact, they could hardly hide their relief. Milli looked at Rosie, hoping she might also join them and made room for her in the gondola. But Rosie, sorry to disappoint them, shook her head.

  ‘One of us has got to stay behind to help the others,’ she said. ‘I will be of more use here. They’ll need someone to guide them once all this is over. Besides, there is no person better equipped than Leo to get you safely across these waters.’

  The gondola rocked gently on the water, seeming almost eager to get moving. The children said their farewells, then Ernest and Leo used the oars to propel them away from the shore. The four children exchanged sombre looks as the little boat glided off. The adventure Milli had always claimed to want was about to begin, only she wasn’t so full of bravado right now.

  Rosie’s figure on the banks of the Lurid Lagoon was beginning to shrink, but before the boat was completely out of earshot she cupped her hands around her mouth.

  ‘Good luck, everyone! Good luck, Little Millipede!’ she called.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Four in a Gondola

  A thudding filled Milli’s head and a sudden weight on her chest made it difficult to breathe. For a moment she thought they had been caught in an avalanche before realising the sound was the beating of her own heart.

  If you have ever lost something precious (and long resigned yourself to never seeing or holding it again) and then find it unexpectedly returned to you, a gamut of emotions follows. First there is the inevitable sense of elation which restores your faith in all things good. But there is also a fear, a crippling fear that the recovered item may have altered so drastically that you barely recognise it or its previous role in your life. This goes just a little way in explaining what Milli was feeling at this epic moment in her life. But the truth is that her feelings were just too muddled and too powerful to be captured by the written word. Rosie confirmed what Milli had suspected since her arrival at Hog House but never dared hope. The mother she had thought to be dead was alive. Whilst part of her mind grappled with this cataclysmic discovery, Milli was not yet equipped to think about it properly. Instead she found she had to pinch herself very hard to stop from keeling over.

  ‘Are you all right, Milli?’ a voice said. She did not even register who had spoken but it did force her thoughts back to the present. She looked at her companions clustered around the map. Now was not the time to explain what had just happened—she wouldn’t have found the words, anyway.

  Milli felt the rise and fall of the lagoon beneath her. The banks were no longer visible and the water closed in from all directions. Being surrounded by breathing red water was like being inside a living thing, Milli thought. She imagined they were travelling through the belly of a whale.

  The night was warm and surprisingly still. The Lurid Lagoon was bathed in pale moonlight, unwinding like a mantle of satin before them. Not a speck of land could be seen on the faint line where the lagoon met the sky.

  Milli allowed her mind to drift. She dipped her hand into the water and let it wash through her fingers. The night was so silent. She listened for the hooting of owls, the darting of fish or the snuffling of small animals on the banks or in the trees. But it was as if the whole world had been lulled into a deep sleep and nothing existed but the gondola and the rhythmic breathing of the water. It crossed Milli’s mind that it was too quiet when…THWACK! The gondola was knocked sideways and it lurched unsteadily from side to side.

  ‘What in the name of sprites?’

  Leo’s eyes darted around for their assailant but the water was again as smooth and silent as a polished river stone. Four hearts hammered so loudly that Milli was sure the man in the moon could hear them. But as abruptly as the attack had come it was over.

  ‘You don’t suppose,’ Ernest whimpered, ‘that sea monsters live in this lagoon?’

  ‘That wasn’t a sea monster,’ Milli reassured him, trying to swallow her own unease. ‘Besides, it’s gone now.’

  WALLOP! Something launched itself at the boat. The children became apprehensive hear
ing the timbers begin to creak and crack with the impact of the collision. When Milli spun around, she just caught a glimpse of a churning cylinder of water before it disappeared beneath the surface. It suddenly dawned on her how small and insignificant the gondola was compared to the expanse of water that stretched before them and whatever horrors lurked within its depths. They really had been very cavalier about the whole expedition, not even bothering to consider that the Lurid Lagoon might be inhabited.

  The water was beginning to bubble and froth, tossing the boat as helplessly as if it were no more than a bottle adrift in a stormy sea.

  ‘Row!’ Leo shouted. They did, glancing back to see a small circle of the lagoon simmering like water in a pot.

  Alas, the first peril did not let the children escape so easily. Just as Nettle was about to announce their safety, a thin antenna of water climbed up from the bottom of the lagoon and reeled around until it was facing four stupefied children. Without warning, the antenna fell away and in its place rose a huge mass of gyrating water, churning as vigorously as a milkshake in a blender.

  ‘I knew it was a sea serpent!’ Ernest cried over the racket. ‘I shall never speak to you again if we get eaten, Milli!’ But Milli, only too familiar with Ernest’s empty threats to renounce their friendship, had learned not to pay them too much heed.

  ‘That’s no sea serpent,’ Leo shouted over the noise of the water. ‘That’s a Carnivorous Vortex!’

  By the time the children had scrabbled around for the oars they’d dropped in fright, it was too late. The Carnivorous Vortex had given chase and was fast approaching. Ernest could not speak; he was too dumbfounded by the thought of actually being pursued by a whirlpool. Since when were whirlpools living entities? Since when could water feed on flesh?