Peter and the Sword of Mercy (37 page)

“And you brought Karl,” said Peter.

“Well, of course I did,” said Magill. “I couldn’t very well leave him up there alone, at his age, now could I?”

“But…he’s a
bear,”
said Wendy.

“He’s better behaved than a lot of Londoners,” said Magill.

“You keep him inside?” said Peter. “All the time?”

“No, I take him out sometimes,” said Magill. “At night. He wears a coat and hat, and we stick to the darker areas. Sometimes we visit with the wolves in Hyde Park.”

“The
wolves?”
said Wendy and Peter together.

“They come down occasionally from Salisbury Plain to visit,” said Magill. “Although they wouldn’t want to live here.”

In the corner chair, Karl, apparently awakened by the noise, shifted his massive form and opened his eyes. He looked around the room at the visitors, then emitted a deep, rumbling growl.

“It’s all right, Karl,” said Magill. He made a growling sound of his own, and Karl, apparently satisfied, resumed dozing. Magill turned to Wendy. “We’ve talked enough about my situation,” he said. “Tell me about Lord Aster, and this trouble you mentioned.”

As quickly as she could, Wendy summarized what had happened—the suspicions about von Schatten; the mysterious disappearances; Leonard Aster’s concern that the Others intended to reattach the missing tip to the Sword of Mercy, then use it to open the Cache of starstuff.

“Grandfather said we must stop them,” said Wendy. “That’s why I went to get Peter. But now that we’ve returned”—Wendy’s voice quavered; she took a breath and went on—“it seems my father’s gone missing, too. Mrs. Bumbrake said he’s not been in touch for days. We can’t go to the police; von Schatten controls them. Just now we barely escaped Grandfather’s house. The police came with a…a horrible
creature,
who very nearly killed Peter. Had it not been for Grandfather’s fighting him, we’d not be here.”

“Lord Aster fought him?” said Magill.

“Bravely. And he saved us,” said Wendy, glancing at Peter, who was looking down. She decided not to tell Magill about the scream.

For a moment the room was silent, save for a long rumbling snore from Karl. Then Magill said, “If Lord Aster sent you here for help, it’s help you’ll get. What do you need?”

Wendy looked at Peter, then back at Magill. “We don’t really know,” she said.

“That makes it more difficult,” said Magill.

Uncle Neville, who had been listening intently as Wendy explained the situation, cleared his throat. “It seems to me,” he said, “that if we want to stop this von Schatten from opening the Cache, it would be helpful to know where the Cache is, so we could try to prevent him from getting to it.”

“We don’t know where it is,” said Wendy. “All we know is that Grandfather said something about ‘confess.’”

“Confess what?” said Neville.

“We don’t know,” said Wendy.

“I see,” said Neville. “Then the other way to stop von Schatten would be to prevent him from using the sword as a key.”

“How?” said Wendy.

“If I understand you correctly,” said Uncle Neville, “the sword will open the Cache only if the tip has been reattached.”

“That’s what Grandfather said.”

“Then perhaps we can get the tip ourselves,” said Neville.

“But we’ve no idea where it is,” said Wendy. “And von Schatten may have it already.”

“Yes, I assume he does,” said Neville. “But until the coronation, the Sword of Mercy will be locked away in the Tower with the other crown jewels. Meanwhile, the tip is likely somewhere here in London, awaiting reattachment. Perhaps we could get it first.”

“How?” said Peter.

“I don’t know,” admitted Neville. “I’m just looking for areas of weakness that might be attacked. It would help if we knew something about the tip and how it would be reattached. Would it be a job for a blacksmith?”

“I don’t know,” said Wendy, frowning, “but I know somebody who might: Uncle Ted.”

“Ted?” said Peter.

“His colleague, actually,” said Wendy. “A fellow at Cambridge. Uncle Ted said he was an expert on the Sword of Mercy, and knew about the missing tip.”

“It sounds as if it might be a good idea to get in touch with that fellow,” said Neville.

“We could call Uncle Ted on the telephone,” said Wendy, “if we had a telephone.”

“There’s a telephone here,” said Magill.

“Here?” said Wendy.

“In the parlor,” said Magill. “Lord Aster had it installed. ‘Just in case,’he said. Never used it myself. Don’t know how.”

“What’s a telephone?” said Peter.

“Marvelous device,” said Neville. “Sound causes a metal diaphragm to vibrate; this in turn causes fluctuations in an electrical current passing through carbon granules. Clever, eh?”

Peter turned to Wendy. “What’s a telephone?” he said.

“I’ll show you,” said Wendy. She and Peter, followed by Uncle Neville, headed for the parlor, leaving Mrs. Bumbrake, John, and Michael nervously watching the still-dozing Karl.

After a minute of silence, John asked Magill, “What does he eat?”

“He used to eat mostly berries, nuts, insects, the occasional small animal,” said Magill. “But since we moved to London, he’s become quite fond of fish and chips.”

“How does he get them?” said John.

“I buy them from a local chippy,” said Magill. “Karl can eat a dozen orders at a time and still want more. In fact, one night I left the door unlocked and he went out
looking
for more. Good thing I found him before he found the chippy.” Magill laughed heartily. Seeing the non-amused expression on Mrs. Bumbrake’s face, he stopped abruptly, then said, “It seems you’ll be staying here at the Scotland Landing. What sort of room do you prefer?”

“I prefer a room,” said Mrs. Bumbrake, “that is as far as possible from the bear.”

T
HE
M
ISSION

“
E
SCAPED
?”

The word hissed like steam from von Schatten’s bloodless lips. His anger further revealed itself in the dull redness that seeped from the edges of his dark eyeglass lenses, forming two glowing circles in the darkened palace chamber.

Simon Revile took an involuntary step backward on fear-weakened legs.

“I’m afraid so, Baron,” he said.

“How? Did you not send the Skeleton?”

“Yes, Baron. And he had the boy. But Leonard Aster—”

“Aster? I was told he was seriously ill.”

“He was, sir. Apparently he used starstuff. He flew over the house. He attacked the Skeleton, and during the fight, the boy and the others escaped.”

“Why did the police not stop them?”

“From what I gather, they were also, ah,
thwarted
by Lord Aster.”

“Incompetent fools,” hissed von Schatten. “Did Aster also escape?”

“No. The Skeleton prevailed.”

“But the boy is gone.”

“Yes, Baron. But Chief Superintendent Blake says his men are scouring the city. He assures me that the boy and the others will be caught.”

The redness around von Schatten’s eyeglasses glowed more brightly. “Tell Blake,” he said, “that if they are
not
caught, he will answer to me personally.”

“Yes, Baron,” said Revile, turning for the door, eager to leave.

“Wait.”

Reluctantly, Revile turned back. “Yes, Baron?”

“I want none of this to distract the Skeleton from tomorrow night’s mission.”

“Yes, Baron.”

“The escape of the boy irritates me greatly. But it does not affect our plans. Tomorrow night is crucial. You will stress this to the Skeleton. He must not fail me.”

“Yes, Baron.”

“Go.”

Revile scurried from the room.

T
HE
T
HIRD
E
LEMENT

H
AVING RECEIVED A TELEPHONE CALL
from Wendy and Peter, Ted was on the first morning train from Cambridge to London. With him was his colleague, the historian Patrick Hunt, a smiling, perpetually enthusiastic man with long blond hair. When they arrived at the Scotland Landing Hotel, they were met at the door by Magill, who looked around to see if they’d been followed, then quickly brought them inside, where Peter, Wendy, and Uncle Neville were waiting.

“Peter!” cried Ted, quickly crossing the room to embrace the friend he had not seen for twenty years. Peter hugged him somewhat awkwardly; he barely recognized this portly man as the sidekick who had joined him on so many long-ago adventures. There was a muffled chime of protest from Peter’s shirt. Peter pulled back, and Tink—still resting from her efforts of the previous night—stuck her head out.

“Tinker Bell!” exclaimed Ted. “How delightful to see you!”

You’re still fat,
chimed Tink.

“She’s delighted to see you, too,” said Peter.

“My word,” said Patrick, staring at Tink. He looked at Ted and said, “I had honestly wondered if you made all this up.”

“None of it,” said Ted. He quickly introduced Patrick to the others. “When I told Patrick this was a matter involving the Sword of Mercy,” he said, “he insisted on coming.”

“I’ve long been fascinated with the sword,” explained Patrick. “To think that, after all these years, the missing tip may have been found! Although I understand that this could be a very big problem.”

Wendy gave Ted a sharp look. “How much have you told Mr. Hunt?” she said.

Ted looked sheepish. “Everything,” he said. “He kept asking questions, and one thing led to another. …”

Seeing Wendy’s doubtful look, Patrick said, “You have my word that I will keep this matter in the strictest confidence. I’m here only to help you, Wendy. And from what Ted has told me, you need as much help as you can get.”

“He’s right, Wendy,” said Peter.

“I suppose he is,” sighed Wendy. “And if Uncle Ted vouches for you …”

“So that’s settled,” said Ted. “Now, where shall we start?”

“If I may,” said Neville. “Since the Cache cannot be opened without the sword, it would appear that our best hope is to prevent von Schatten from reattaching the tip to the sword. The question is, how might we do that?”

All eyes turned to Patrick.

“I’ve an idea about that,” he said, “although it may take a bit of explaining.”

“By all means,” said Neville.

Patrick cleared his throat. “Nobody,” he said, “at least nobody that I’m aware of, really knows how the Sword of Mercy, or Curtana, came to be. Its origins, as the expression goes, are shrouded in mystery. But there are legends, and one of the more prevalent ones holds that the sword was made from a very unusual metal.”

“Unusual in what way?” said Neville.

“It came from space,” said Patrick.

Neville frowned. “Wait just a moment,” he said. He went to the stairway and called up: “Mrs. Bumbrake, could you please come down for a moment?”