dog, running to greet her.
‘Boojie Boojie Boojie!’ sang Mistress Split, crashing the tray of food down on the table in front of Silver.
T he 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.
‘Would you still defeat me, Jack? Would you?’
Jack said nothing. The Magus was pacing the library.
‘I had thought you cleverer than to trust Wedge,’ said the Magus.
Jack said nothing.
‘I knew that you had
‘Boojie Boojie Boojie!’ sang Mistress Split, crashing the tray of food down on the table in front of Silver.
T he 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.
‘Would you still defeat me, Jack? Would you?’
Jack said nothing. The Magus was pacing the library.
‘I had thought you cleverer than to trust Wedge,’ said the Magus.
Jack said nothing.
‘I knew that you had
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