"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?"