Somehow, Charlie managed to drag a voice out of his aching body. "What do you want?"
"We certainly don't want you," one of the twins answered with a brittle laugh.
"You've got to make a promise," said the other twin whose voice was deeper and more aggressive.
"A promise?" groaned Charlie.
It was Joshua's turn to speak; in a hard, expressionless voice he said, "You're to give up this foolish quest to find Asa Pike."
And if I don't?" Charlie muttered through chattering teeth.
"No ifs," said the twins in unison. "You WILL give it up."
There was a scraping noise high above Charlie. He turned his head just in time to see a large lump of stone dislodge itself from the high wall beside him. Charlie shrank back; covering his head with his hands, he waited for the inevitable blow to his skull.
The stone never reached him. A violent gust of wind swept down the alley; caught in midair, the stone was flung off-course and came crashing down beside Joshua Tilpin. There was a high-pitched scream as Joshua was lifted off his feet and carried away. The twins, clinging to each other, suffered the same fate. Charlie could hear their feet hitting the walls of the
alley as they tumbled through the air, wailing like banshees.
There was a deafening crack of thunder and a cloud of black dust whirled overhead. The screams of the airborne children blended into a pitiful, endless wail that was gradually drowned by the crackle of thunder and the steady patter of raindrops on the ground.
Charlie drew himself into a miserable huddle and waited for the storm to pass.
It takes considerable energy to rouse such savage weather and the perpetrator was left feeling a little tired. He would rather let the storm die slowly than bring it to a sudden conclusion.
When Charlie finally summoned up the courage to lift his head, he noticed that the lantern, though covered in dust, still burned. Someone had brought it closer to him. He saw two long legs encased in a pair of damp blue jeans. Dreading an even worse attack than the one he had already suffered, Charlie's eyes traveled nervously upward. He saw a thick navy jacket,
a gray scarf, and above the scarf, a smiling face topped by a shock of blond, spiky hair.
"Charlie!" said Tancred.
"Tancred," breathed Charlie, "is it really you?"
"Of course it is. Are you OK, Charlie?"
"Well, I'm not dead." Charlie attempted to get to his feet but needed Tancred's arm to steady him.
"How did you know I was here?" asked Charlie.
"Followed your moth," said Tancred. "I knew it was her immediately. She was in quite a state, fluttering around my head, butting my cheek; she actually bit my chin when she thought I wasn't going fast enough. As soon as I saw the great drop where the steps should have been, I knew something pretty nasty was going on."
Charlie looked back. The steps lay in a broken heap, well below the level of the road.
"Had to jump down." Tancred examined a splinter in his thumb. "We'll never get out that way."
"The twins," Charlie murmured, "they're so ... so strong now, and so coldhearted. And Joshua..."
"They'll be out of it for a bit." Tancred grinned. "Come on, Charlie. Let's get you home."
The candle in the lantern finally burnt out, and the two boys inched their way forward while the white moth flew ahead, lighting their way. Charlie was half expecting to stumble over a body, but there was no sign of Joshua or the twins.
"They'll be lying in a field somewhere," said Tancred. "I made sure the wind was strong enough to carry them out of the city."
Charlie marveled at Tancred's incredible endowment. "I wish I could do something useful," he muttered.
Tancred patted him on the back. "You're always doing something useful, Charlie. I feel ashamed to tell you the truth. Tracy Morsell kind of blew me off course for a while." He watched the bright moth hover, as she waited for them to catch up with her, and he laughed. "Do you know, that moth made me see the light?"
"How?"
"Tracy gave me an ultimatum. Follow that stupid moth and you're dumped, Tancred Torsson, she said. I saw her for what she was, Charlie. A manipulative airhead."
"She's very pretty," said Charlie, trying to excuse Tancred's temporary defection. "So I can understand your... your ..."
"Obsession? Oh yes, she's very pretty," Tancred said sourly.
They emerged, at last, into a road of shops and lights, and Charlie began to feel he was part of the real world again. "How do we get to Piminy Street from here?" he said.
Tancred looked surprised. "What do you want to go there for?"
It was time Tancred knew what had been going on, so as they made their way across the city, Charlie filled him in. It was the sword that really grabbed Tancred's attention, just as it had with Lysander.
"A sword?" Tancred's blue eyes lit up. "Wow! And you think this Red Knight is an impostor because he stole the king's cloak?"
"I don't know for sure, Tanc. I just feel I've got to warn Mrs. Kettle."
"I can't wait to see this kettle shop and meet the woman who's a blacksmith." Tancred dashed off and Charlie had to run to keep up with him.
The thunderstorm had sent almost all the citizens indoors. The children in the Pets' Cafe, having decided that Charlie would, inevitably, have run back to Filbert Street, gathered up their pets and made their way home. Benjamin had a hard time separating Runner Bean and Chattypatra, but Mr. Onimous managed to persuade the dogs with a doggy bag of beef treats for Runner Bean to carry home, and a bowl of ice cream for Chattypatra behind the counter.
The remains of the storm lingered above Charlie and Tancred as they hurried along Piminy Street. Tancred explained that he couldn't help it. "But the
weather is a protection, Charlie," he said. "Can't you feel it?"
Charlie could certainly feel something. He sensed a deepening conflict on Piminy Street, almost as though battle lines had been drawn up. How many magicians had lived here? Who, among them, had been true to the name of the Red King, and who had used magic against their neighbors?
When they reached the Stone Shop, Tancred peered into the window. He shrugged himself deeper into his winter coat. "Think of it, Charlie. An army of moving stone. Who could defeat that?"
Charlie had no answer.
Outside the fish shop, Tancred hesitated again. He looked up at the window above the badly painted sign. Charlie had told him what Emma had seen, but Tancred would have stopped anyway. Here, he sensed, was an enemy he was born to oppose. He had no way of knowing that he and Dagbert shared the same stormy ancestor: Petrello, bringer of storms, fogs, and drowning tides.
Charlie watched the sign swaying and creaking in the wind. He tugged Tancred's arm. "Let's go, Tanc. I want to get to Mrs. Kettle."
"It's not even a shop," Tancred remarked. "They've got nothing to sell, whoever they are. But I can smell fish, all right." He stepped back from the window, holding his nose.
Charlie couldn't delay his visit any longer; he ran up to the Kettle Shop and began to rap on the door. Tancred joined him and they waited a few seconds before Charlie rapped again, using the kettle-shaped knocker with some force.
"Goodness me, Charlie Bone, what brings you here again? I'm very busy." Mrs. Kettle stood in the doorway with her arms folded across her chest. She was wearing oil-stained coveralls and her face was streaked with soot. She didn't look inclined to let anyone in.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Kettle," Charlie said in a rush, "but something has happened, something that you should know about."