Charlie Bone and the Hidden King (Children of the Red King, Book 5) by Jenny Nimmo Page B
Authors: Jenny Nimmo
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done something she shouldn't have."
"For pity's sake, Grizelda," roared Uncle Paton. "Maisie's in trouble."
"Huh!" Grandma Bone turned her back. "You'd better do something about it. She's beginning to drip."
Charlie touched Maisie's arm. She was wearing her pink angora sweater and the soft, furry material had turned to bristling, icy spikes. He had a terrible thought. A moment ago he had been traveling into a world full of snow. Had he, somehow, taken Maisie with him? He touched her face. It was as cold and hard as a block of ice.
"Charlie, don't," sobbed his mother. "Don't touch her, it's too - dreadful."
Grandma Bone was right. Maisie was, indeed, beginning to drip. A little pool of water had formed around her feet.
"Perhaps she's thawing out," said Uncle Paton. "Let's speed it up. We'll get her closer to the stove."
With some difficulty Amy and Uncle Paton maneuvered Maisie over to the stove. Uncle Paton turned up the dial, and heat poured into the room. In a few minutes it was so hot, everyone was flinging off cardigans and sweaters, but although Maisie continued to drip, very slightly, around her shoes, she remained as hard as an iceberg.
"It's a spell." Charlie's mother covered her face with her hands. "It has to be. But why Maisie? She never hurt a soul."
"Charlie, have you been visiting that sorcerer again?" Uncle Paton's tone was severe.
"N-no," said Charlie, a little uncertainly.
"But you have been 'traveling'?"
Charlie nodded. He could feel Grandma Bone's eyes upon him. "I didn't visit any sorcerer," he said quietly, "but I did go somewhere very cold."
"Where?" demanded Grandma Bone.
"Oh - just into a Christmas card," said Charlie. "Just for fun. There's nothing wrong with that, is there?"
"You shouldn't use your endowment for fun," she snapped.
"OK. OK," Charlie mumbled. He noticed that the table was set for lunch. The contents of the basket had been shared among them, and each person's favorite food set neatly beside their plates. Pate for Grandma Bone, venison pies for Maisie and Charlie, tuna for Amy, and prawns for Uncle Paton. The lid of the prawn jar had been removed and two large prawns lay on the cloth, as though they had been accidentally dropped.
"Uncle Paton, have you eaten any prawns?" asked Charlie.
"No, I . . . Paton saw the prawns. "Good Lord, who . . ." He bent down and peered into Maisie's open mouth. "A prawn!" he cried. "She's been at my prawns."
"Paton," Amy chided. "Please! You wouldn't begrudge my poor mother a few prawns."
"My dear, you misunderstand," said Paton. "Maisie was eating prawns when she - when she succumbed to this terrible affliction."
Amy looked up. "Poisoned?" She gasped.
"A bit more than poisoned," said Paton. He turned to his sister. "Grizelda, do you know anything about this?"
"Don't be ridiculous." Seizing her plate of toast and pate, Grandma Bone marched out of the kitchen, growling, "I'm not staying here to be insulted."
No one else dared to touch their food. They put every last morsel back into the basket, and Paton called the store. Fifteen minutes later, a young man arrived in the van Charlie had seen driving off an hour before. Paton handed him the basket at the front door. "A member of my family has been taken very ill," he told the young man. "We believe your prawns were responsible. I want them analyzed as soon as possible."
"It's Sunday," said the youth, who looked nervous and confused.
"Someone may be dying!" roared Paton. "Get it done!"
"Yes, sir," mumbled the youth. "The hospital, perhaps." He walked shakily down the steps and placed the basket on the passenger seat, before driving off.
Charlie had an idea. "The Flame cats," he suggested. "They'll help." He flung on his jacket, rushed out, and headed for the Pets' Cafe. The cats were not always to be found there, but he didn't know where else to look.
Before Charlie had reached the end of Filbert Street, he sensed that the Flames were already near. His gaze was drawn to the roof of
"For pity's sake, Grizelda," roared Uncle Paton. "Maisie's in trouble."
"Huh!" Grandma Bone turned her back. "You'd better do something about it. She's beginning to drip."
Charlie touched Maisie's arm. She was wearing her pink angora sweater and the soft, furry material had turned to bristling, icy spikes. He had a terrible thought. A moment ago he had been traveling into a world full of snow. Had he, somehow, taken Maisie with him? He touched her face. It was as cold and hard as a block of ice.
"Charlie, don't," sobbed his mother. "Don't touch her, it's too - dreadful."
Grandma Bone was right. Maisie was, indeed, beginning to drip. A little pool of water had formed around her feet.
"Perhaps she's thawing out," said Uncle Paton. "Let's speed it up. We'll get her closer to the stove."
With some difficulty Amy and Uncle Paton maneuvered Maisie over to the stove. Uncle Paton turned up the dial, and heat poured into the room. In a few minutes it was so hot, everyone was flinging off cardigans and sweaters, but although Maisie continued to drip, very slightly, around her shoes, she remained as hard as an iceberg.
"It's a spell." Charlie's mother covered her face with her hands. "It has to be. But why Maisie? She never hurt a soul."
"Charlie, have you been visiting that sorcerer again?" Uncle Paton's tone was severe.
"N-no," said Charlie, a little uncertainly.
"But you have been 'traveling'?"
Charlie nodded. He could feel Grandma Bone's eyes upon him. "I didn't visit any sorcerer," he said quietly, "but I did go somewhere very cold."
"Where?" demanded Grandma Bone.
"Oh - just into a Christmas card," said Charlie. "Just for fun. There's nothing wrong with that, is there?"
"You shouldn't use your endowment for fun," she snapped.
"OK. OK," Charlie mumbled. He noticed that the table was set for lunch. The contents of the basket had been shared among them, and each person's favorite food set neatly beside their plates. Pate for Grandma Bone, venison pies for Maisie and Charlie, tuna for Amy, and prawns for Uncle Paton. The lid of the prawn jar had been removed and two large prawns lay on the cloth, as though they had been accidentally dropped.
"Uncle Paton, have you eaten any prawns?" asked Charlie.
"No, I . . . Paton saw the prawns. "Good Lord, who . . ." He bent down and peered into Maisie's open mouth. "A prawn!" he cried. "She's been at my prawns."
"Paton," Amy chided. "Please! You wouldn't begrudge my poor mother a few prawns."
"My dear, you misunderstand," said Paton. "Maisie was eating prawns when she - when she succumbed to this terrible affliction."
Amy looked up. "Poisoned?" She gasped.
"A bit more than poisoned," said Paton. He turned to his sister. "Grizelda, do you know anything about this?"
"Don't be ridiculous." Seizing her plate of toast and pate, Grandma Bone marched out of the kitchen, growling, "I'm not staying here to be insulted."
No one else dared to touch their food. They put every last morsel back into the basket, and Paton called the store. Fifteen minutes later, a young man arrived in the van Charlie had seen driving off an hour before. Paton handed him the basket at the front door. "A member of my family has been taken very ill," he told the young man. "We believe your prawns were responsible. I want them analyzed as soon as possible."
"It's Sunday," said the youth, who looked nervous and confused.
"Someone may be dying!" roared Paton. "Get it done!"
"Yes, sir," mumbled the youth. "The hospital, perhaps." He walked shakily down the steps and placed the basket on the passenger seat, before driving off.
Charlie had an idea. "The Flame cats," he suggested. "They'll help." He flung on his jacket, rushed out, and headed for the Pets' Cafe. The cats were not always to be found there, but he didn't know where else to look.
Before Charlie had reached the end of Filbert Street, he sensed that the Flames were already near. His gaze was drawn to the roof of
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