"Foolish boy," said Count Harken. "That will do no good."
"Weedon, get some water," said Dr. Bloor.
Still clutching his left ear, Weedon staggered out.
"It's lucky he's still got one good ear," said Manfred, chuckling at his own joke.
No one else laughed. This was a serious moment and the sooner Manfred caught on, the better. Everyone waited for the enchanter to speak, while he waited for Weedon to return. He arrived, at last, with a jug of water and his wife in curlers and a pink shawl.
"Put it on her face," the enchanter commanded, pointing at Titania.
"Put it?" Weedon, looking uncertain, held up the jug.
"Pour it!" thundered the enchanter.
"Pour? Of course." Weedon turned the jug and let a stream of water splash onto Titania's face.
She sat up, gulping for air. "I'm drowning!" she screamed.
"You are not," said the count. "Calm yourself."
"My lord, it really is you!" Clinging to her son, Titania pulled herself to her feet. "I knew you would come, but with the mirror broken and..."
"I came another way," the count said, with a private sort of smile.
"Tell us how," begged Ezekiel. "We'd love to know."
"With the boy," the count said carelessly. "Charlie Bone. I knew he would come to Badlock. My granddaughter has a fondness for him. She tried to reach him through my painting, but he used the mirror."
"The mirror?" cried Titania. "The Mirror of Amoret? But it's broken."
"Not now. I allowed the boy to arrive. I even watched him use a ridiculous garb to rescue his friend, Billy, and I traveled back with them."
A babble of complaints and questions broke out, and raising his hand for silence, the enchanter said, "How did I travel? As a fly. And why did I allow Billy to return to your city? Because he was of no use to me."
"But what about the will?" Ezekiel screeched. "That kid stands to inherit everything if the will is found. We had a bargain, sir. You keep Billy, and we help you to get back into the city."
Leaning across the desk, the enchanter roared in Ezekiel's face, "But you didn't help, did you?"
"What, what?" Ezekiel spluttered. "She tried"—he pointed at Titania—"and Venetia Yewbeam attempted to seal the crack in the mirror."
"I called to your shadow in the Red King's portrait," Titania whined. "But all in vain. I brought back my ancestor Ashkelan Kapaldi to help, but the Red Knight killed him."
"Red Knight?" The enchanter sat up, his ringed fingers drumming the desk.
"What Red Knight?"
"A killer, a rogue, a dressed-up devil..."
Dr. Bloor's calm voice cut through Titania's hysterical outburst. "A knight on a white horse has been seen, now and then, riding through the city. He appears to be protecting some of the endowed children, Charlie Bone among them. This knight has a plume of red feathers on his helmet, a red cloak, and a shield with a burning sun."
"The king!" Count Harken leaped up, his eyes blazing. "So he has returned to give me the ultimate satisfaction. All my life I have relished the thought of this encounter."
"I hesitate to disagree," said Dr. Bloor, "but surely it cannot be the Red King himself, the man who built this city nine hundred years ago?"
"I am here," the enchanter reminded him, "so why should he not be here?"
Manfred, who had been listening to the conversation with increasing impatience, suddenly spoke up. "The Red King is a tree, always will be, so we've heard. If he could have returned as a man, then he would have done it years ago."
The count began to look uncertain. At last he said, "If he is not the king, then he is someone who has taken on the king's mantle. Whoever he is, he must be destroyed before I can take this city into the past."
"The past?" said Ezekiel. "But..."
"Oh, you can keep your house, your garden, your treasures." The enchanter waved his hand disdainfully. "But they will all be taken into the past."
The Bloors stared at the enchanter, not quite comprehending what they had heard. Even Titania looked anxious.
"You will hardly notice the difference," the enchanter said airily. "The city will be in the world of Badlock, that is all. Now, can someone find me a horse. Preferably a stallion. And I'll need some of the armor that I saw displayed in your hall. We will do battle on the morrow!"
"We?" croaked Ezekiel.
"Battle?" said Dr. Bloor.
The family at number nine was on its way back to bed when the doorbell rang.
"It's going to be a long night," sighed Uncle Paton. He went down into the hall and called, "Who's there?"
"It's me. Cook!" said a voice.
"Cook?" Uncle Paton drew back the bolts and. unlocked the door. When he opened it, a small figure darted in. She was carrying a large suitcase in one hand and a leather bag in the other.
"My word," she puffed, dumping the suitcase and the bag on the floor. "It's dark in here, Mr. Yewbeam."
"There's a reason," said Paton.
"Oh, of course." Cook noticed the candle burning on the landing above.
"Cook!" cried Charlie.
Cook blinked at the three figures on the stairs, the smallest of whom was now bounding down toward her.
"What's happened?" asked Charlie. He had rarely seen Cook outside the school.
"I've left Bloor's," she said. "The balance is gone. You can't go back there, Charlie. None of you can. It's all over."
"What's all over?" Paton ushered Cook into the kitchen, where he lit another candle. "Sit down and tell us what's happened."
Charlie followed them, and when Alice came in, Cook exclaimed, "Alice Angel!
I'm so glad you're here. What a difference it will make."
Alice smiled and sat beside her. "Tell us, Cook!"
"He's come back." Cook couldn't control the tremble in her voice. "Count Harken. It's all over for us. We'll have to leave before it's too late."
"It is too late." There was anxiety in Alice's tone but not despair, and Charlie took comfort from this.
"The fog is very thick," Cook agreed. "I could barely see my way here. Some of the streetlights are out, and I heard looters in High Street. I came the back way."
Maisie, who'd been making yet another pot of tea, said, "What's going to become of us all? What can we do?"
"Plenty," said Paton firmly. "I wouldn't want to leave this city, even if I could. It's worth fighting for, I'm sure you all agree."
They did agree, but a sudden thought caused Charlie to gasp, "Mom and Dad! If we can't get out, they can't get in, and they're on their way here." He paused. "At least I think they are."
Alice touched his hand. "They will be here, Charlie."
It was like a promise, and although Charlie tried hard to ignore the uncomfortable doubts that kept tormenting him, all at once they became too much to bear and he burst out, "Why did he run away just when we needed him?"
Nobody spoke and Charlie realized that even Uncle Paton had been worried by the same distressing doubts.
"We'll know soon enough," said Maisie, handing Cook a cup of tea. "I'll make up a bed in the living room," she told her. "The sofa's very comfy, and I'm sure we'll all be thinking better in the morning."
"Indeed," said Uncle Paton. "I'm off. Sleep well, everyone."
Charlie followed his uncle upstairs. He was about to go into his room when he saw a small figure sitting on the second flight of stairs.
"Charlie," Billy whispered. "Is he here?"
"The enchanter?" Charlie was reluctant to alarm Billy, but he would have to know the truth eventually. "Yes, he is," he admitted. "But Cook's here and we think everything's going to be all right."
"Oh, good." Billy gave a huge yawn. "Night, Charlie."
In the bookstore, Mrs. Kettle had been given Emma's room, while Dagbert took the sofa downstairs. Emma shared her aunt's bed. None of them slept very well. Voices from Piminy Street carried through the air in disturbing waves of sound: raucous laughter; rough, deep singing; and wild strains from a fiddle that played on and on, the fiddler seeming never to tire. But it was the smell of burning that finally drove Mrs. Kettle to the window.