Jack looked at the little boy and smiled. ‘Yes, always, I promise.’ He turned to Wedge. ‘Here is the Egg,’ he said. And from his pocket he pulled out the coconut he had found in the Dragon’s den.
Now Wedge had never seen the Cinnabar Egg, and he had never seen a coconut either. But the coconut looked egg-shaped enough, and exotic enough, and its brown hairy shell seemed to him to be the safe protection of whatever was inside.
Wedge stretched out his hand. Jack drew back.
‘How do I know that I can trust you?’ said Jack.
‘Trust me, Jackster? Swear on my heart, I do, that trust me you can.’
‘You’ve only got half a heart,’ said Crispis, ‘so Jack can only half trust you.’
Wedge glared at the tiny child. ‘Halves is as good as wholes,’ he said.
‘And if I give you this Egg,’ said Jack, ‘what will you do with it?’
Wedge’s eye filled with greed, ‘Hatch it, Jackster, hatch it.’
‘What’s in it?’ asked Jack. ‘It’s only a bird.’
‘If there is nothing in it,’ said Wedge, ‘you wouldn’t have gone to so much trouble to get it!’
‘I didn’t get it for myself,’ said Jack, ‘I got it for the Dragon.’
‘The Dragon? You don’t ever want to trust a dragon, Jackster, believe me, yes, believe me you should.’
‘I don’t trust the Dragon,’ said Jack.
Wedge nodded. ‘If you give me that Egg, you’ll be on your way home with your mother by midnight tonight.’
‘Then I’ll give you the Egg at midnight tonight,’ said Jack.
‘Now!’ said Wedge, lunging forward. ‘I say now!’ But Jack was too quick for him, and ran to the window.
‘I shall drop it and smash it,’ said Jack.
Wedge held up his hand. ‘Do it your own way we will, Jackster. I’ll come for you at midnight tonight.’
Wedge hopped away, leaving Jack, Crispis and William in the bedchamber.
‘Now you’ll go away,’ said William, ‘and the Magus will choose me.’
‘No he won’t,’ said Crispis, ‘you’ll see.’
‘Everyone knows you are stupid in the head,’ said William. ‘I don’t care what you say.’
‘Leave him be,’ said Jack. ‘He is no harm to you. Crispis! We might as well go and start the fires.’
‘You can’t,’ said William. ‘We aren’t allowed to leave the chamber until Wedge comes for us!’
‘I don’t think that Wedge is going to say much about it this morning, do you?’
And Jack took Crispis by the hand and went downstairs.
As they passed the Creature’s room Jack glanced inside, and there was Mistress Split fast asleep, snoring her half snores, the dog Max lying beside her. Max saw Jack and lifted his ears, but Jack put his finger to his lips, and the dog understood.
* * *
The dark sky was breaking into pieces of morning. There was not much time.
‘Crispis, we’re going to take the Cinnabar Egg to the Dragon.’
‘No,’ said Crispis. ‘I shall be eaten.’
‘No you won’t, we’ve got something he wants.’
The hallway was silent. Jack pushed open the door that led to the downward tree and, putting Crispis on his back, climbed down as he had before. The child looked in wonder at the wide, thick fleshy leaves, and deep-coloured blossoms. Once they had reached the Dragon’s lair, Crispis bent down and felt the warm moist soil, and while Jack was pushing ahead, Crispis filled both his pockets with soil. He had had a good idea.
Jack didn’t notice that Crispis had fallen behind. He was looking for the Dragon.
From beneath the vast trunk of a vast tree, a single eye opened, and the Dragon coughed.
‘How so, Jack Snap, come back?’
Jack whirled round. The Dragon could camouflage himself easily in the prehistoric forest, and it was only his bright eye that alerted Jack to his presence. His purple and green scaly coat was hidden beneath the purple and green of the forest.
‘Here is the Cinnabar Egg,’ said Jack, pulling it from his shirt.
The Dragon opened both his eyes. He sat up. He sat up twenty feet high above the ground, and his long neck arched and stretched, then swooped down right at the level of Jack’s head. Jack did not flinch, even though the Dragon’s breath smelled of wet cloth and rabbits.
‘How so, how so! Clever boy, cleverer than I guessed,’ said the Dragon. ‘Ah, Jack, we have a bargain indeed!’
‘Why do you want this Egg?’ asked Jack boldly, though once again he had the strange sensation that he only asked the questions the Dragon, in his vanity, wanted to answer.
‘An Egg has two uses and that is all,’ said the Dragon, ‘Eat or hatch.’
‘Which is it?’ said Jack, marvelling that he dared to speak at all, let alone in this familiar way, to a Dragon.
The Dragon’s eyes flickered and hooded themselves. He was ancient and cunning. ‘Ah, Jack, hatch. A waste of such an Egg to consume such an Egg.’
‘What is inside the Egg?’ said Jack.
‘I did not ask that question!’ The Dragon pulled himself up, and shot his purple tongue into the air. ‘Until now you have asked only the questions that I wanted you to ask – that is a Dragon’s way. How so, Jack, that you ask a question I did not ask?’
So Jack was right. The Dragon could put words into his mouth.
‘I don’t know,’ said Jack, truthfully, and the Dragon looked thoughtful.
‘You are more than you seem, Jack Snap, and we shall meet again, both changed.’
Jack didn’t know what the Dragon meant by this, so he decided to proceed with what he did know.
‘Will you prepare the Bath now, for the Sunken King?’
‘I will,’ said the Dragon. ‘In three days’ time come here again and the Bath will be prepared, and the King will be waiting for you. And I shall be waiting for you, Jack Snap.
Now, the Egg.’
‘How do I know that –’
‘You can trust me?’ interrupted the Dragon. ‘You are a human being and you talk of trust. I am a Dragon who knows more of the human heart than you. Our bargain is our bargain, and by my ancient oaths I must honour it. I will tell you something, Jack Snap: trust only those you love, and for the rest, make bargains. You cannot trust the world, but you can bargain with it. Hear me, Jack: trust only those you love.’
‘What do you know of love?’ said Jack, who felt the Dragon asking this question.
‘A great deal,’ said the Dragon, ‘but it was a long time ago, when love and trust grew in the world as easily as trees and flowers. Now it is otherwise, Jack Snap. Now go.’
And Jack held out the Cinnabar Egg, and the Dragon inclined his ancient head and took the Egg in his jaws.
Jack bowed – he did not know why – and walked backwards until he felt safe enough to turn, conscious of the jewel-eyes of the Dragon upon him.
As he reached the foot of the downward tree, he heard a rustle, and there was Crispis, creeping out from under a giant leaf, trembling and covered in earth. Jack grabbed him and together they climbed away.
RUMOUR
In the laboratory that day there were whispers that the Magus had a new captive. Wedge and Mistress Split had been overheard talking.
But who was it?
‘It must mean that you have failed, Jack, like the rest of us,’ said Robert. ‘He only brings a new one when the others have failed. He tried us all in turn and we could not complete the Work.’
‘I hope I have failed,’ said Jack.
‘Only when the Work is done can we leave,’ said Robert dismally.
‘William thinks the Magus will choose him,’ said Jack.
Robert shook his head. ‘That is because he is his son.’
Jack looked at Robert in astonishment. ‘You said that all of you were orphans.’
‘William is an orphan now. His mother is dead and the Magus disowned him when he could not complete the Work. He made him come here with th
e rest of us. He used to live in the house and be waited on by Wedge and Mistress Split. William loves his father but he hates him too.’
‘A boy in half,’ said Jack thoughtfully.
‘What do you mean?’ said Robert.
‘He is divided against himself, don’t you see, Robert? That’s what the Magus does. He did it to the Creature and he did it to his own son. William doesn’t know whether he loves or he hates, so he has no power. Half of him goes down one alley, and half down the other. The Magus doesn’t want anyone to have power except for himself. None of you have power because you are all split in half too.’
‘I don’t know what you are saying,’ said Robert.
‘You don’t want to be here, but you are all too frightened to leave. So you do nothing. That is what he wants. Now I think I know him a little.’
Robert was looking worried. ‘You can’t defeat him, Jack.’
But Jack didn’t answer.
In his bedchamber, Wedge was half-whistling a half-song.
‘Let HER keep the dog, and I shall keep the Egg.
She shall ask for mercy and I shall make her beg.
Once was all halves, now ’tis all wholes, Wedge shall have the power, and SHE shall have . . .’
And he laughed, ‘Nothing at all!’
Wedge went and looked at the picture of the green lion that dripped gold. ‘And we won’t need you either, there will be no animals when Wedge rules. Whoever heard of a green lion? You shall join the Magus in the cellar!’
And Wedge thought back to the time when the Magus had created them, him and her, but they weren’t a him and her, they were just the Creature, and they were happy, and they had done his bidding; and then, one day, for something and nothing – he couldn’t half remember, he only half remembered – then the Magus had taken them, and split them in two, and now, and now, and now?
‘She thinks more of the dog than She do of me,’ said Wedge bitterly, ‘and She my other half. I’ll show her. Yes I will. She’ll be sorry soon enough, when I am master here!’
And Wedge sat down on the edge of the bed, and shed one single tear from his one single eye, because, truth to tell, he was lonely.
‘Boojie Boojie Boojie!’ sang Mistress Split in the kitchen, feeding Max chicken from a plate. ‘Never been so happy, not never, not ever, never had a Whole Dog to Myself! Mine mine mine, all the time time time.’
Then she got up. ‘Time to feed the Captive.’
THE CAPTIVE
The Captive was sitting disconsolately looking out of the window into the empty courtyard below.
She had no idea where she was, though she knew she was in England, probably in London, and definitely in the past. At least, to her it was the past, because she lived in the twenty-first century. To everyone living here now, it was the present.
How had she come to be in this place? She went over it again in her mind. What exactly had happened?
She had been in her little bedroom, in her big rambling house; an old house, a house that contained many secrets. A house that had been in her family for hundreds of years. In a way, she lived in the past every day, because the house was so old.
She had been reading a book and fallen fast asleep, but then she had woken quite suddenly out of a dream where a boy she had never met, who said his name was Jack, was knocking at the front door and asking her to come and help him.
The second she woke up, she heard knocking at the front door. Without thought and without fear, she had gently shoved aside her big ginger cat that always slept on her bed, and got up and crept downstairs. The house was deathly quiet; everyone else was asleep. She had gone to the huge oak front door and opened it. A great gust of wind blew in, but there was no one outside, and the large untidy garden was night-time quiet.
A dream . . . always a dream.
As she had turned to go back upstairs, she had noticed a light coming from the library. She wasn’t scared at all – this was her house, and she loved it. Its name was Tanglewreck, and her ancestor Roger Rover had built it in 1588 on land given to him by Queen Elizabeth the First. This was where she felt she belonged, had always belonged, and there was nothing to fear.
She had gone straight into the library.
She was astonished by what she saw.
The fire in the big stone fireplace was burning bright and high, lighting the whole room. Over the fireplace the portrait of her ancestor, Sir Roger Rover, in the ruff and jewelled doublet, seemed to be watching her closely. As she walked towards the fireplace, she saw that inside the fire, or made of the fire itself, was a golden city – domes, bridges, spires.
‘What’s this?’ she said to herself, but out loud. ‘Is this another adventure?’ For truth to tell it was not the first time that the girl had found herself at the start of a strange situation . . . she was that kind of girl, and the house was that kind of house.
As she watched in wonder, a drawbridge, flaming and shining, lowered itself from the fire, into the room, and stood at her feet. The bridge seemed solid, but also molten, like something from a volcano. None of this fire burned; rather, she felt cool, like night, like rain.
As she looked into the fire, she saw the figure of the boy in her dream. He was beckoning her, and she felt hypnotised by his clear burning eyes.
She stepped forward, on to the flaming drawbridge, into the city, through the fire, and walked unscathed into another room, another fireplace, where a woman, half-stone, half-flesh, seemed to be sleeping where she stood, and where a man so dark that he seemed to be his own night, sat at a stone table reading.
‘I am the Magus,’ he said, standing to his feet as she appeared, ‘but who are you, and who called you here?’
She could not tell him because she did not know, and some instinct warned her to say nothing of the dream of the boy called Jack.
After the Magus had questioned her, and after she had explained that she lived in the twenty-first century, and had walked through the fire to come here, without knowing why, the Magus had brought her to this high upper room, and locked the door. She had tried to escape by every means possible – she had even climbed halfway up the chimney and met an angry jackdaw sheltering from the rain. But the chimney narrowed, she could see that, and she could not climb further.
And now she sat, covered in twigs and wood soot, staring into the rainy courtyard.
Where on earth am I? she thought to herself.
The door flew open and in hopped Mistress Split with a beautiful black spaniel at her heel.
‘And who on earth is this?’ said Silver out loud.
‘Woof!’ barked the dog, running to greet her.
‘Boojie Boojie Boojie!’ sang Mistress Split, crashing the tray of food down on the table in front of Silver.
HEART OF STONE
The day passed. Night came. In the deep of the night, Jack heard the voice of the watchman far away. ‘Twelve o’clock and all’s well.’
Jack was ready. With Crispis beside him, he went down the stairs to meet Wedge.
He did not believe that Wedge would let him escape, but he hoped that by giving Wedge the coconut, he could distract him enough to keep his half-mind and sharp eye on other things, while the Dragon prepared the Bath for the Sunken King. Jack had decided that if by any miracle Wedge did let the three of them escape, then once his mother and Crispis were safely home, he would return and hide himself in the house until he could somehow defeat the Magus, with the help of the Sunken King. Then the other boys could be free.
‘I wish I could vanish,’ said Crispis, ‘and be a cloud instead of a boy.’
‘You’ll be safe again,’ said Jack, ‘I promise.’
There was a noise. A door opened. Jack saw Wedge’s angular silhouette in the lit doorway of the dining room.
Wedge came hopping across the hall.
‘The Magus is occupied this night. He dines out with another like him, and will not return this night.’
‘Where is my mother?’ asked Jack.
?
??In the cart. She is waiting for you in the courtyard, Jackster. Follow me, and be silent!’
Jack and Crispis followed Wedge to the courtyard. Sure enough, in the cool night air, under the stars, was a cart covered with sacking. A driver dressed in black sat at the reins of a dark pony.
‘How do I know my mother is in the cart?’
Wedge sneered or snarled, and flung back the sacking at the foot of the cart. Sure enough, there were two stone feet.
‘She’s drugged,’ said Wedge, ‘to stop her making any sound. Women have coward hearts and this is dangerous work that we do.’
Jack knew his mother was brave as a fighting dog, but he said nothing.
‘Right then, Jackster, hop up there, behind the carter, and away you go!’
Jack and Crispis got up on to the cart and Wedge covered them up with a horse blanket.
The driver slowly moved the pony forward and the cart left the double gates of the Dark House.
Crispis soon fell asleep to the steady sound of the hooves, and Jack, though uneasy, soon nodded off too. He had a dream. In the dream, he was standing outside a black and white timbered house of the style of grand houses that he knew. This house seemed old, although it must have been very new, and the garden was untidy. There was a sundial, and the words written round it were in Latin: TEMPUS FUGIT.
In his dream, Jack walked up to the door of the house and lifted the knocker that was in the shape of an angel. He knocked loudly, once, twice, three times . . . A girl opened the door. It was the girl in the Book of the Phoenix. It was the Golden Maiden.
Jack woke up with a start. The cart had stopped. There was no sound at all. Jack scrambled to the back of the cart – ‘Mother, Mother!’ But his mother was not there, only the broken legs of a broken statue.
In a panic Jack jumped clean out of the cart.
‘You are returned, Jack, it is well.’
It was the Magus.
The Magus took hold of Jack the way lightning strikes a tree. One minute Jack was standing there, the next, he had been struck by a great force that seemed to go right to the centre of him. It wasn’t a blow or a punch, or like being hit, it was like being caught in a storm. Jack reeled back, and fell, splintered and shaken, in the library. He had that sense that he was in a thousand pieces, and groped across the floor for his legs and arms, but in reality he was Jack, and he was the same. But he had met the power of the Magus.