Deep Amber (17 page)

Jem looked at Lord Ravenglass and thought about the knighthood he had been promised. He thought about lording it over all the useless stuck-up squires at Roland Castle and being right-hand man to the heir to the throne. But then he thought about Smith and Jones and the crows that had attacked them all. They were
working for
Lord Ravenglass. He shivered, and thought about Lord Ravenglass's shiny, too-white teeth when he smiled, and his haughty insistence that everyone bow to him at exactly forty-five degrees to the horizontal. He glanced at Dora, and she shook her head sternly.

He shrugged. “We haven't managed to find it, your Lordship,” he said apologetically. “I have no idea where it is.”

Visibly irritated, Lord Ravenglass gestured to Smith and Jones and the two of them nodded. Mr Smith stalked towards Dora. He pinched
her shoulder hard, and shook her till her teeth rattled. Jem kicked him on the shins but he simply reached out one hand, grabbed Jem by the back of his jerkin and hauled him, yelling, off his feet. Mr Jones headed straight for Cat, who was now pelting for the door of the lounge. As he reached for her, Sir Bedwyr swung his long sword into Mr Jones's back, and Albert brought the fumigator crashing down on his head – but Mr Jones hardly seemed to notice. He wrenched Cat's rucksack off her back, and pulled it in half with a tearing, splitting sound. The contents went flying, and the wooden box with the amber tumbled across the floor and came to a halt on the thick Persian rug in the middle of the lounge.

Lord Ravenglass raised one eyebrow.

“Well, well,” he said. “I rather thought so. That'll be the box with the deep amber.
Just
what I've been looking for.”

“It's not yours,” said Albert swiftly. “You don't need it anyway. You'll inherit the queen's piece.”

Lord Ravenglass looked up at the ceiling, with an air of mock patience. “That mad old witch,” he said, “refuses to die, or give the amber up. For now. And besides,” he smiled round, showing all
of his white teeth, “I find I need more than one piece. So I'll be taking this one.”

He clicked his fingers, and the box burst into flames, then crackled with ice, and then released a tornado of wind which ruffled through Lord Ravenglass's ringlets. The amber jewel rolled out into the middle of the rug.

There was a pause, while they all looked at it. Then Lord Ravenglass started to move towards the centre of the room. At once Great-Aunt Irene materialised above the discarded box, her silvery outline becoming rapidly solid, and her cane waving wildly in the direction of the advancing figure. She cried out in a very loud voice: “I can't do anything! I'm a ghost! I can't use magic! It's no good waiting for Louis any longer – someone else is going to have to do it! Simon – Cat – you're both heirs! Will one of you for goodness sake PICK UP THE AMBER BEFORE HE GETS IT!”

Simon and Cat looked across at each other, shocked. They were both about the same distance from the amber – but Lord Ravenglass was closer. Neither of them were going to get the amber unless someone stopped or slowed Lord Ravenglass. There was a split second to make a
decision, but Simon knew immediately what he had to do. He was closest to Lord Ravenglass, and he had the sword.

“Cat! Take it!” he shouted, and lunged at Lord Ravenglass, smacking the sword into the back of his long elegant legs.

“Ow!” yelled Lord Ravenglass in an extremely undignified manner, and stumbled onto his hands and knees. His long white fingers stretched out desperately towards the amber but Cat was quicker. She stamped on his hand and kicked the amber out of reach. The jewel was glowing fiercely, and it looked incredibly hot. Cat could distinctly remember Jem's scorched fingers after he had picked it up in the kitchen, but Lord Ravenglass was starting to get up, and she was now much closer to the jewel than Simon. Closing her eyes, and praying that the amber would not burn her, she bent down, closed her fingers round it, and stood up, holding it firmly in her hand.

There was a sudden stillness. She could see the orange stone glowing between her fingers, and feel the jangling energy from it almost numbing her arm, but her fingers were not even hot. As she continued to hold it, the glow gradually faded,
and the energy crackling outwards from it started to become smoother and calmer. The silence around them suddenly had a different quality to it – as if a constant low hum that they'd barely noticed had disappeared.

“That's better,” said Albert. “Can hear myself think at last.”

Great-Aunt Irene clapped her hands.

“Well done, my dear!” she said. “Jolly well done! It's yours now, you know. You're the new heir.”

She turned to Lord Ravenglass, who had picked himself up off the floor and was looking utterly furious.

“
So
sorry,” she said brightly. “It looks like you've failed. The amber has passed on. So if you could just…” she waved her hands vaguely at Mr Smith and Mr Jones, “you know, get off home. That would be wonderful. And give my regards to your aunt. Irene Morgan – we're sixth cousins or something similar, I believe.”

“Sixth cousins, eh?” said Lord Ravenglass, through gritted teeth. “Well, it doesn't really matter. Because as far as I can see, you're still a ghost, and these…
children
don't seem up to
much. So I do believe if it came to a magical fight, it would be myself and my very able companions against the dubious powers of Albert and young Dora here. I suggest,” he grinned at them, “you see sense now and hand that amber over to me.”

Dora struggled to free herself from Mr Smith's claw-like grip, and Jem yelled and pulled, but neither of them could get away. Mr Jones anticipated a move from Sir Bedwyr, and brought him crashing down on the carpet with a well-placed foot and a shove, then turned to Jemmet. The two of them watched each other warily. Simon tried to dodge past to get to Dora, but Lord Ravenglass reached out a lazy hand and stopped him in his tracks. Simon felt as if his feet had been turned to blocks of stone. He looked helplessly at Cat, who had gone very white.

“Use the amber,” said Great-Aunt Irene calmly to Cat. “Just tell it what to do. Send them back to where they came from.”

Cat's head ached, and she could feel her hand trembling. Only a few days ago the whole idea of magic had seemed like make-believe. And yet now here it was, all around her – magic, rifts, other worlds. It was real. And now it was up
to her to control the jewel's power. Somehow she had to draw on some part of her, deep down, that knew about magic, that had always known about it.

Cat looked at Lord Ravenglass, and she saw a flicker in his eyes as he glanced from her to the amber. He's afraid, she thought. He knows I could do it. She clenched the amber tightly, and wondered how. How was she supposed to use it? Just tell it, Great-Aunt Irene had said. Just tell it what to do.

“G-go b-back!” Cat said loudly, holding the amber out in front of her. “Lord Ravenglass. And Mr Smith. Mr Jones. Go back to wherever you came from! I… I command you!”

A whirling white mist rose in front of her, and it reached out little tendrils towards Lord Ravenglass, and then Smith and Jones. Mr Smith cursed, and let go of Dora and Jem. Mr Jones gave a rasping snarl, and started to run, but the two of them were pulled into the mist in one short blink, and then gone.

Lord Ravenglass raised his eyes to the ceiling. “Damn,” he said. And then he was gone too.

At that moment, the doors at the other end of
the lounge opened, and a tall lanky figure ran in, wearing a railway inspector's jacket and looking rather out of breath.

“Did you manage to shut down the amber? Am I too late? There was a points failure. I got stuck at Clapham Junction for an
hour
.”

Chapter Nineteen

“It's the Druid!” shouted Dora, in a glad voice.

“Louis Henry Maximillian Morgan!” As she spoke, Great-Aunt Irene picked up a small jug from a nearby table and hurled it across the room. The Druid ducked, and it crashed against the wall just behind his head.

“Er… hello, Mother,” he said, rather sheepishly. “Sorry I couldn't come to the funeral. You're looking… very smart and… er… silvery.” He looked across at Simon and Cat.

“Uncle Lou!” said Cat, feeling a sudden gladness at the sight of him. “But… What…? How…?”

“Lovely to see you again,” he said with a warm smile. “It's been such a long time. Last time I was in this world, you were both small enough to sit on my knee. And here you are now, so grown-up!”

“
You good-for-nothing irresponsible wastrel!
” Great-Aunt Irene shouted at him, her anger making her turn alternately solid and transparent. “You're too late! Where have you
been
? How could you be so utterly useless? You – you –” she almost choked, trying to decide what to say next, and the Druid seized his chance. Moving swiftly to the centre of the room, and with a quick grin at Dora and Jem, he put out his hands towards his mother and made soothing gestures.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “I should have come earlier. But I promised not to interfere. I was hoping someone else…” He spread his hands apologetically. “I made sure the queen knew. I thought Ravenglass would deal with it.”

“He nearly did,” said Albert dryly. “But it seems he wanted the amber for himself, so it's lucky that Cat here got there first.”

The Druid looked taken aback. “Ah,” he said. “Well. That puts a different complexion on it.” He glanced round at the room, with its upturned chairs and battered bits of furniture. “Maybe we'd better all have a bit of a chat. I'll put a very strong ‘Do not disturb' spell on the room, and get us some refreshments.”

The Druid, with a little bit of charm and a slight dose of magic, managed to persuade the matron to provide them with a magnificent tea. Mrs Allsop was rather confused about everything that had happened, but somehow ended up with the impression that the Druid and his colleagues had been responsible for defusing some kind of bomb on the premises. She was extremely grateful, and quite happy to provide tea, cake and buns in return for their efforts, while she busied herself sorting out the rest of the residents and letting the staff out of the meeting room.

Cat was still feeling rather weak, and she gladly accepted a mug of tea with six sugars from Albert Jemmet, who gave her a friendly smile.

“Bit of a shock, I imagine,” he said, nodding to the amber, which was now hanging round her neck on its bronze chain.

She reached up and touched it. “I had no idea,” she said. “But now… it somehow feels exactly right.”

He nodded. “Funny really,” he said. “Because I thought it was young Simon that was going to be the one. But he seems happy enough with the sword.”

Cat looked over at Simon, with the sword resting on his lap, and grinned. “He really needs to learn how to use it properly, though,” she said. “He massacred Mum's sofa last time he tried. And cut up most of her washing.”

Simon looked up as he felt Cat's eyes on him, and waved. He was grilling Dora on magic. “So, do you think you could show me some stuff? Just small things. I think I might be able to do it, and I'd really like to know how.”

Dora looked at him and considered. He clearly did have magic, she could sense it bubbling away inside him. But magic was not really part of this world, and she was pretty sure the Druid would not approve of her showing him how to use it. She glanced down to the other end of the room, where the Druid was deep in conversation with Great-Aunt Irene. Then she checked to her right, where Sir Bedwyr was cheerfully tucking into a plate of cream buns and polishing his sword with a bit of torn curtain.

Dora knew she should say no, but part of her was starting to get a bit fed up of always worrying about what she was
supposed
to do. Jem never did anything except what he wanted to, and he
seemed to get away with it. And Dora realised that she rather
wanted
to help Simon awaken his magic properly, and show him just what a fantastic thing it was.

“Okay,” she said to Simon, with a quick nod. “Just a bit. But don't tell anyone I showed you. They'd probably make me muck the pigs out for a whole year.”

She gestured to him to slip behind the large overstuffed sofa, where they would be out of sight. Jem noticed them go, but didn't say anything. He had a bakewell tart in one hand and a buttered roll in the other, and was rapidly demolishing them both. He was also rather busy trying to question Albert Jemmet about deep amber and the forest and the other worlds.

“So,” he said, gesturing with the remains of the bakewell tart. “There are lots of worlds, and they all originate in the Great Forest. That's what Caractacus told us. But the world with the kingdom is the
real
one. Our world.”

“Well, they're all real,” said Albert. “And they all contain a part of the forest, somewhere. But yes, the kingdom is the first. It's where the World Tree has its roots.”