White Horse Talisman by Andrea Spalding Page B

of gold, with a sideways smirk at the two boys.
    Owen rolled his eyes.
    Mr. Smythe pushed aside a pile of papers and picked up a magnifying glass. “Make yourselves comfortable.” He waved his hand towards the chairs, switched on a bright desk lamp and angled it on the talisman.
    Holly and Owen each chose a chair, moved the contents from its seat to the floor and sat down, grinning. Adam copied them. Owen gave him a thumbs up.
    â€œMost intriguing,” muttered Mr. Smythe. His glasses began to slip down his nose. He grunted, pushed them up with one finger and continued his examination. “Hmma spiral design on one side. Could be a decorative whirl, or the symbol for a snake, or a worm.” He turned the talisman over. “Hmm, a horse. Possibly Celtic design.” He placed it on a square of felt spread out on the tabletop, walked over to the dresser and pulled open a drawer. “Let’s compare it to something.” His hand paused in the air, then swooped down to pick out a small box. “This, I think, is the correct one.” He removed the lid, gave a quick nod of satisfaction and returned to the table.
    Placing the box on the table, Mr. Smythe removed the lid of a Chinese ginger jar, thrust his hand inside and pulled out a pair of thin white cotton gloves. He pulled them on before lifting a bronze coin from the box and placing it on the felt beside the gold talisman.
    He beckoned to the children. “See the similarities?” he asked.
    â€œThey’re nearly the same size and shape. They’re both old, and I think they’ve been made by hand because they’re not perfect circles,” Holly said. It was clear that she had worked with Mr. Smythe before.
    â€œThey both have designs of horses. Like the White Horse,” offered Owen.
    Adam decided it was time for him to get involved. “But one’s gold and one’s brown and they don’t show the same horse, because this one —” Adam pointed to the bronze coin “— is only one horse, and this one —” he pointed to the magic talisman “— would show a large one and a small one if it was complete.”
    Mr. Smythe stared at him.
    Adam flushed and avoided everyone’s eyes. He must be more careful when he opened his big mouth.
    Mr. Smythe held the talisman under the magnifying glass again. “You think this would show two Celtic horses,” he muttered. “One large, one small. Could be. There is a sug–gestion of another leg on the edge of the break.” He looked vaguely into the distance. “It reminds me of something … now what?”
    â€œAre there any lost horse carvings?” Holly asked. “Ones like the White Horse that have disappeared for some reason.”
    â€œOnly the Red Horses of Tysoe,” Mr. Smythe answered absently.
    Holly, Owen, and Adam looked stunned, and Mr. Smythe sat up with a start. “That’s it! That’s what this reminds me of. Here.” He gave the talisman back to Holly and dashed over to the dresser, where he started looking through the drawers.
    Mr. Smythe rushed back to the table with a slim silver box in his hand.
    Holly nudged Owen.
    Mr. Smythe lifted the silver lid and took out an ancient, leather-bound volume. The book was fragile. Mr. Smythe laid it carefully on the felt, but as he opened it two of the thin pages fluttered out. Mr. Smythe sucked in his breath and care–fully tucked them back in place. Then very slowly he turned the pages until he found the place he wanted. “There!”
    The children gazed down at an old print of a landscape with the outline of two horses carved on a hill.
    â€œThe two red horses of Tysoe. Overgrown and lost in recent times. Now only known from this early sketch and a written description over three hundred years old.” Mr. Smythe tapped the page with his forefinger. “When you asked about two horses, that’s what it reminded me of.” He