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Another one for Myfanwy, with love.
First published in Great Britain 2002 by Egmont UK Limited
This edition published 2010
by Egmont UK Limited
239 Kensington High Street
London W8 6SA
Text copyright © 2002 Jenny Nimmo
The moral rights of the author have been asserted
ISBN 978 1 4052 2543 4
ebook ISBN 978 1 7803 1202 6
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library
Printed and bound in Great Britain by the CPI Group
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Contents
6 A ruined half-term
7 Hypnotised!
8 Breaking the rules
9 The Red King’s room
10 Skeletons in the cupboard
11 Clues at last
12 Mind games
13 The inventor’s tale
14 Billy’s dark bargain
15 A ringing, chanting, shining knight
16 War
17 The inventor’s daughter
18 The Red King
19 Into the ruin
20 The battle of the endowed
21 The longest night of the year
Prologue
Long, long ago a king arrived in the north. They called him the Red King for he wore a scarlet cloak and his shield was emblazoned with a burning sun. It was said that he came out of Africa. This king was also a marvellous magician and each of his ten children inherited a small part of his power. But when the king’s wife died, five of his children turned to wickedness and the other five, seeking to escape the corruption that surrounded their evil siblings, left their father’s castle forever.
Broken-hearted, the Red King vanished into the forests that covered the kingdoms of the north. He did not go alone, however, for he was followed by his three faithful cats; leopards to be precise. We must never forget the cats!
The manifold and fabulous powers of the Red King were passed down through his descendants, often turning up quite unexpectedly, in someone who had no idea where they came from. This is what happened to Charlie Bone, and to some of the children he met behind the grim, grey walls of Bloor’s Academy.
Charlie hears voices
On a Thursday afternoon, just after tea, Charlie Bone saw smoke. He happened to be looking out of his window when a dark cloud lifted above the autumn trees. The wind blew it south and it moved through the sky like a great, floating whale.
Somewhere, on the other side of the city, there was a fire. Charlie could hear a fire-engine racing towards it. He had no idea that in mysterious and unexpected ways he was connected to it, and would soon be drawn to the place where it had begun.
Charlie slept well, got up next morning and went to school. After school, Charlie and his friend, Benjamin Brown, walked home together, as usual. The cloud of smoke had gone, but the sky was stormy and dark. A fierce wind sent red and gold leaves bowling down Filbert Street.
Benjamin crossed the road to number twelve, while Charlie stopped at number nine. Most of the people who lived at number nine complained about the large chestnut tree in front of it; how dark it made their rooms, how damp and creaky it was, and how it would probably fall on the roof one day and kill them all in their beds. Needless to say, no one at number nine did anything about it. Complaining to each other was as far as they went. They were that sort of family. Or, rather, those sorts of families.
As Charlie ran up the steps to his front door, the tree sighed and rained a handful of conkers on to his head. Luckily his thick, springy hair softened the blows. Thick hair had its uses, though not many. Charlie was always being told to smarten himself up, an impossible task for someone with hair like a hedge.
‘Hullo, Grandmas!’ Charlie called as he stepped into the hall.
There were two grandmas at number nine: Grandma Jones was Charlie’s mother’s mother, and Grandma Bone was Charlie’s father’s mother. Grandma Jones was round and cheerful and bossy, while Grandma Bone only spoke to complain. She rarely smiled and nothing made her laugh. Her hair was thick and white, and she wore long, stiff garments in shades of black, grey or brown (never pink, which was Maisie’s favourite colour).