Deep Amber (16 page)

Sir Bedwyr pulled himself up to his feet, slightly dazed. He gave Cat a hurt and betrayed look, and frowned at Simon. Then he pointed an accusing finger at Albert Jemmet.

“You!” he said. “You were at the dragon inn. What are you doing
here
? What's going on?”

“It's complicated,” said Albert. “But first of all, can you please call off your troops?”

Sir Bedwyr looked like he was trying to work out some particularly tricky long division in his head. After a few moments, he nodded, and gestured to the residents. “Let them go. They're not part of the enemy forces.”

The residents lowered their weapons, and took a few steps back. But then Colonel Fairfax gave a warning shout.

“Not so fast, everyone! We've got trouble!”

Standing in the open doorway were two tall thin figures in shiny black suits.

Mr Smith and Mr Jones.

Chapter Seventeen

Dora looked at the two men, with their pale skin and deep black eyes, and shivered. There was a kind of cold magic concentrated around them, a sense of age and deep malevolence. She had never felt anything so strong and frightening in all the kingdom.

“Albert Jemmet,” said the younger of the two men, and gave a slight bow.

“Mr Smith,” said Albert grimly. “And Mr Jones.” Dora watched as he reached inside his canvas bag and brought out a peculiar contraption with a large rubber bulb attached to a trumpet-shaped mouthpiece. “I'd be getting along, if I were you. Vermin are not wanted here.”

Dora could tell Albert was trying to sound confident, but it was clear he was anything
but… and the two men knew it.

Mr Jones laughed – a sound like pebbles rattling together. “Oh no, Albert, that won't do,” he said with a grin. “Won't do at all. There's no protection on
this
house. No shield runes built into the bricks. No enchantments on the doors and windows. Nothing to stop us bringing
all
our power in with us…”

As he spoke, he stretched his arms out wide, and called out, in a dry, rasping voice. Dora felt the cold, dark magic around both men grow stronger, seeming to solidify… Mr Smith added his voice to his companion's, and Dora flinched. Suddenly there was a great billowing black storm cloud rising from between the two men, a dark, roiling mass that spread out into the room and became… crows! Hundreds of them! Flapping, shrieking, their wings beating against the walls, their claws reaching out, their sharp grey beaks and bright black eyes everywhere she turned.

Dora ducked in terror, as a cloud of blackness hurtled towards her. She put her arms up over her face, and curled into a tight ball on the ground, but she could feel them pecking, clawing, beating at her back, and sharp pincers pulling at her hair.
There were yells and crashes all around but she didn't dare look, in case they pecked at her eyes. She curled tighter, and buried her face in her knees. She could hardly breathe.

Just as she thought she might pass out, there was a great commotion just next to her, a mixture of shouts and bangs and the shrieks of birds. She felt a great heavy cloth sweep across her, beating the birds back, and then it was thrown right over her like a blanket and she found herself safe, in a kind of protective tent. The birds were still pecking and jabbing, but the cloth was thick, and they weren't getting through. Close by, in the dimness, she could see Jem on his hands and knees, breathing heavily. His face was pale, and there was rather a lot of blood on it.

“I couldn't think what to do,” he panted. “And then I noticed that there were these huge tapestries over the windows, so I cut one down with my sword. I thought if I got it over you, kept the birds off, you might be able to do some magic.”

Dora could feel the crows, beating themselves angrily against the heavy cloth, and hear shrieks and the sounds of falling furniture around them.
The cold magic that had come from Smith and Jones seemed to be seeping into her bones. She wasn't sure she would be able to do anything, but she took a deep breath and nodded.

“Lift the edge of the cloth,” she said. “I need to see what's happening.”

Jem lifted up one corner a little, and they both peered out. One of the old ladies, nearby, had three crows in her hair, while her friend was cursing loudly and trying to beat them away with a cushion. Simon was deep in a swirl of blackness, hacking wildly at the birds with the sword, which he'd managed to wrestle free of its bin bag. Cat was cowering on the ground with her hands over her head, while Sir Bedwyr stood above her, cutting down crow after crow with his bright sword. He had been raked by several beaks and claws, and blood was running down his face. Albert Jemmet was surrounded by birds, but his strange contraption was obviously doing something, as crows were turning to white dust all around him, so much so that he looked like a man caught in a snowstorm. But more and more birds continued to come.

And then Dora saw something that made her
clutch Jem very tightly. Stalking towards Albert, through another whirl of crows, were the two dark-suited figures of Mr Smith and Mr Jones.

“Go on, Dora!” urged Jem, thumping her on the arm. “You can do it – I know you can! You've got really strong magic. Turn them small or something!”

He grinned at her, and wiped a trickle of blood away from his eye. Dora gave him a shaky grin in return and raised her arms. Concentrating on the two figures approaching Albert, she started to mutter the words of an immobility spell.

The coldness was rising around her as Smith and Jones got nearer, and it was making it hard to reach for her magic, hard to gather it together into the spell. Dora fought against the iciness seeping into her bones, drew on every bit of power she could raise up, and threw the spell straight at their heads.

Simon kept inhaling crows' feathers. He was spitting them out, whirling the sword around his head as wildly as he could and trying very hard to see where Smith and Jones were, when suddenly he heard a shout from Cat. He jerked his head
round in time to see Sir Bedwyr, assaulted by at least ten crows at once, go toppling backwards into Albert Jemmet. Albert's fumigator flew out of his hands and crashed into the widescreen TV in the corner of the residents' lounge. Smith and Jones, Simon saw with horror, were just a few steps away. As he saw Albert stagger, Mr Jones gave a snarl and lunged forward.

But at that very moment there was a sound like the chiming of a bell. Everything seemed to slow down, and Simon could hear nothing but ringing in his ears. As it gradually faded away, he blinked, and realised that the crows had gone – every single one. Smith and Jones were frozen like statues in the centre of the room, and Albert and Sir Bedwyr were slowly untangling themselves and getting up off the floor.

A heap of red velvet curtain down by the sofa bulged surprisingly, and from it emerged Jem, pulling Dora behind him. Jem looked rather the worse for wear, and Dora was very pale, but Albert reached down and helped pull her to her feet with a grin.

“That was you, was it, that immobility spell?” he said cheerily. “You nearly got all of us, there.
My ears are still ringing! Not that I'm complaining. That came just in the nick of time, I can tell you… Smith
or
Jones I could have dealt with, but the two of them together had put a hex on me so strong I couldn't have magicked a teaspoon out of a cutlery drawer. All I had left was my trusty fumigator.” He looked around for it, and spotted it by the TV, rather bent out of shape. “Ah well,” he said, picking it up gently. “Looks like it needs a bit of tender loving care.”

Sir Bedwyr, breathing heavily and mopping the blood from his face with a convenient cushion, reached down to pull Cat to her feet.

“Th- thanks,” she said, rather shakily. “For… protecting me.”

Sir Bedwyr straightened his shoulders and looked distinctly pleased with himself. “Always glad to be of service to a beauteous damsel!” he said, with a bow.

Simon was looking at the immobilised figures of Smith and Jones. They were completely still, but there was something in the depths of their black eyes that made him sure they were aware of everything. He shivered.

“Will they… stay like that now?” he said.
“And what happened to the crows?”

“The crows were their magic,” said Albert. “Can't do magic when you're immobilised. But as for how long they'll stay like that…” He came over and had a good look. “I'd say not too long, actually – it might be a good idea if we scarpered sharpish.”

“Oh, I'd say that would indeed be a good idea,” came a drawling voice from the other end of the room. “But I'm not inclined to let you go.”

Dora turned towards the voice, and her breath caught in her throat. Because surveying the room with an air of interest, while lazily shaking out the lace cuffs of his velvet sleeves, was the tall, dark figure of Lord Ravenglass.

Chapter Eighteen

Lord Ravenglass waved one hand lazily at the residents of Sunset Court, who were looking extremely dishevelled and rather bemused. Suddenly they all acquired a glazed expression, and bowed deeply. He beckoned them towards the hallway and gradually they sidled out of the room with their shovels and lampstands, looking sheepish and muttering about teatime. The door closed behind them with a firm bang.

“Dear me,” said Lord Ravenglass, flicking an imaginary piece of dust off his velvet sleeve and smiling at Albert Jemmet. “I seem to have got here just in time. I was hoping to avoid having to come myself, but…” he shrugged, “alas, incompetence surrounds me.”

Simon glanced at Albert, who was looking
distinctly uneasy at the appearance of this smoothly dressed man, with his velvet and lace and long black ringlets. However, Jemmet stepped forward smartly, and bowed very low.

“Albert Jemmet, your Lordship,” he said. “Agent for the Great Forest, currently attached to this world. We've been having a bit of trouble with these two… vermin,” he gestured at the frozen figures of Smith and Jones, “but I believe we have the situation under control.”

“Indeed?” said Lord Ravenglass, flashing a gleaming smile at everyone. “Dora…
and
Jem. Glad to see you're here as well. On the case, eh?” He winked at Jem, who bowed with a flourish. Dora, Simon noticed, bowed with altogether less enthusiasm.

Lord Ravenglass moved forward regally, then halted and put his face up very close to Albert's.

“The amber, Jemmet,” he said softly. “I require the amber.”

Albert Jemmet's blue eyes met Lord Ravenglass's gaze firmly. Simon held his breath. After a pause, Albert said, in a very neutral voice, “I don't have it, your Lordship. I'm sorry.”

Cat caught Simon's eye, and he flicked his
gaze towards the door. She gave the tiniest of nods and started to sidle away. As she did so, Sir Bedwyr moved forward, bowed low to Lord Ravenglass and started to explain about his quest, and offer his services to find whatever it was that his Lordship wanted – but Ravenglass just held up one white hand with a frown and Sir Bedwyr stuttered into silence.

There was a pause, while Lord Ravenglass examined Albert Jemmet as if he were fitting him for a coffin. Then he snapped his fingers.

“I had hoped to avoid this,” he said. “But maybe I shall need Smith and Jones after all.” He lightly touched the two frozen figures standing nearby, and they stirred and looked around. Moving stiffly, as if still not quite free of Dora's spell, they placed themselves either side of Lord Ravenglass and stood ready, their black eyes sweeping the room.

“Ah,” said Albert. “They're working for you, then.”

Lord Ravenglass smiled. “As you say. They are working for me.” He raised his voice. “The amber is in this room, and if it's not handed over
at once
, I'll be asking my trusty friends here to
find it. And,” he examined his fingernails lazily, “while they may not have completely recovered their powers, you can be sure that they
won't
be asking politely.” He beamed round at them all, then raised one eyebrow at Jem. “Any ideas, Jem?” he asked. “Before I let them loose?”