Saturday morning couldn’t come soon enough for Archie. The five members of the Alchemists’ Club had agreed to meet at Quill’s and then go to Grey’s laboratory. They had a lot to talk about.
Archie, Bramble and Thistle got there first and were just ordering hot chocolate and buns when Rupert arrived with Arabella.
‘Rupert!’ cried Bramble, giving him a big hug.
Rupert blushed. He looked pleased and embarrassed at the same time. He glanced around Quill’s. ‘How I’ve missed this place!’ he said, beaming a smile at Archie and Thistle.
‘How long are you in Oxford for?’ asked Thistle.
‘Just the weekend. I was planning to drop in at the menagerie, to see how the animals are doing. I wanted to see the Pegasus and I heard about the trouble with Simon the salamander. Dragons can be very tricky unless you know what you’re doing.’
‘Peter Quiggley has taken over from you and I’m not sure he knows much about dragons, or any magical creatures for that matter!’ said Archie.
Rupert looked bemused. ‘Quiggley? Really?’ he said. ‘How did he get the job?’
‘That’s what we thought,’ said Bramble. ‘Did you put in a good word for him?’
Rupert shook his head. ‘You must be joking!’ he said. ‘Quiggley is about the last person I’d have suggested. I don’t think he likes ordinary animals – let alone magical ones. When Brown asked me who I thought should take over from me I recommended Thistle.’
Thistle looked pleased. ‘Thanks, Rupert,’ he said.
‘It’s a shame the Flame of Pharos doesn’t decide,’ said Bramble. ‘I’m sure it would have chosen you, Thistle.’
‘Why doesn’t the Flame decide?’ asked Archie.
‘Some jobs are at the discretion of the elders,’ said Rupert. ‘They choose their own personal apprentices. That reminds me, I hear you are Hawke’s apprentice. That’s brilliant. Congratulations!’
‘Thanks,’ said Archie, swelling with pride.
‘So tell me what else has been going on at the museum,’ said Rupert. ‘And don’t leave anything out.’
‘Let’s go to the lab and talk there,’ said Archie, casting a glance around the other tables. ‘We don’t want to be overheard.’
Archie let them into the Aisle of White using his key. They hurried down to Old Zeb’s workshop and collected the key to the black door.
When the door opened four pairs of eyes went straight to the bench. But there wasn’t another note.
‘What’s the matter with you lot,’ asked Rupert, noticing their serious faces. ‘Anyone would think you’d seen a ghost.’
‘Funny you should say that,’ said Archie. ‘I wonder if ghosts can write.’
They told Rupert about the secret informer and showed him the first note, which Archie had brought with him.
‘Someone’s trying to warn us,’ said Rupert.
‘Yes,’ mused Archie, ‘but who?’
‘Someone who wants us to think that Fabian Grey is still alive,’ said Rupert.
‘Or it could be Faustus Gaunt?’ said Thistle. ‘He’s FG.’
‘Good thinking,’ said Bramble. ‘But how would Gaunt know about the lab?’
‘He’s the magical prophecies expert, isn’t he?’ said Rupert, looking thoughtful. ‘Tall with long, silver hair?’
‘Yes, that’s him,’ said Archie. ‘He’s helping Hawke with John Dee’s prophecy.’
Rupert nodded. ‘Thought so. He’s a fellow of the Royal Society. I’ve seen him around the place a couple of times. He must be looking at the records there, too.’
Arabella interrupted. ‘Hold on, let’s not forget the club rules. We can’t start the meeting properly until we’ve all said the pledge.’ She broke into a smile. ‘The five of us here in the lab with a mystery to solve. It’s just like old times!’
They all grinned at each other. It was good to be back together. They’d all missed the camaraderie and closeness of their secret meetings.
‘All right, I’ll go first,’ said Bramble. ‘I, Bramble Thornbush Foxe, pledge to restore magic to its former glory.’
Archie thought about The Opus Magus. One by one the others said their names and pledged themselves to the Alchemists’ Club. Rupert was last and no sooner had he finished than Thistle turned to him.
‘So what happened at the Royal Society when The Book of Night was stolen?’
Rupert’s brow creased into a frown. ‘How do you know it’s The Book of Night?’ he said, his eyes sparkling with interest. ‘All Gloom told me was that it was one of the seven.’
‘We overheard Gloom talking to Hawke about it in the oculus,’ said Arabella. ‘And from what Archie has found out, it’s the worst book they could possibly have got their hands on. So what happened?’
Rupert looked pensive. ‘I’d only just started working at the Royal Society, but I could tell there was something going on. Gloom seemed nervous and now I know why. He asked me if I thought a dangerous magical book would be safe if no one knew where it was. I told him that as far as I was concerned there was only one safe place for dangerous magical books – and that was in the museum!’
‘What did he say to that?’ asked Thistle.
‘He didn’t say anything, but I could tell it wasn’t the answer he wanted to hear. Shortly after that he must have contacted Hawke and asked him to send someone to collect it.’
‘Yes,’ said Thistle. ‘Hawke sent Bone and Dad, but when they got there they were ambushed.’
‘So now the Greaders have got it,’ said Rupert. ‘What will they do with it?’
Archie explained what he’d discovered about The Book of Night. Rupert looked shocked.
‘So if The Book of Night is opened then the Dark Flame will release the Pale Writers to find The Opus Magus,’ gasped Rupert. ‘I thought The Opus Magus was just a legend?’
‘No,’ said Archie, shaking his head. ‘Hawke says it’s real. If the Pale Writers find it then the Dark Flame will use it to turn all magic into dark magic.’
‘So all of our work rewriting the magical books will have been for nothing,’ groaned Arabella.
‘Yes,’ said Archie. ‘The Dark Flame has been consuming the new spells – that’s why they burned with a black flame. And worse than that, all the spells we have already rewritten will turn dark as well. The Opus Magus is the key to everything. It’s the primary spell. Whoever controls The Opus Magus controls magic.’
‘But there must be something we can do,’ said Rupert. ‘There must be some way of stopping them.’
‘The vision The Book of Prophecy revealed to Grey,’ Archie said. ‘That’s the only way to stop the Dark Flame. Gaunt thinks Grey saw The Opus Magus, and we know he had a bibliographical memory so he’d remember every spell he ever saw.’
‘I bet that’s what he was going to use the azoth for,’ said Arabella, ‘to rewrite The Opus Magus!’
‘But just seeing a spell wouldn’t have turned his hair white,’ said Thistle. ‘He must have seen something else as well.’
‘Gaunt and Hawke also think Grey saw a vision of what he had to do with The Opus Magus to defeat the Dark Flame,’ said Archie.
‘Well, whatever it was drove him half mad,’ said Arabella. ‘Braxton Foxe said Grey couldn’t remember what he’d seen, which is very odd for someone with such a good memory!’
‘Couldn’t remember or wouldn’t remember?’ asked Rupert.
‘Perhaps whatever Grey saw was so frightening he didn’t want to remember,’ said Archie.
‘But surely he would have left a clue,’ said Bramble. ‘We are talking about the greatest alchemist of all time – and he was desperate to restore magic! Perhaps Hawke and Gaunt are looking for it, too.’
‘So what are we going to do?’ asked Arabella.
‘We have to help them discover what Grey saw in the vision,’ said Archie, ‘before the Greaders open The Book of Night – or worse, discover The Opus Magus.’
*
By the end of the meeting they were already formulating a plan. Now that they weren’t writing magic every night, they could concentrate on trying to solve the mystery.
Bramble and Thistle would find out all they could about The Book of Night and the Dark Flame, including the Pale Writers. Arabella would keep her eyes and ears open around Ripley Mansion, her parents’ house in Oxford where the Greaders met, for any information about what they were up to.
Archie was determined to help Hawke and Gaunt discover what Grey had seen in The Book of Prophecy using his book-whispering and delving skills.
Rupert, meanwhile, would keep them informed of developments at the Royal Society and try to find out what the magical authorities were doing to recover The Book of Night.
They agreed to meet again as soon as there were any significant developments.
*
After the meeting, Rupert said he was going to drop in at the menagerie. The others decided to go with him. Thistle was the only one of them who had visited that part of the museum since Peter Quiggley had taken over Rupert’s old job.
The five of them made their way to the West Gallery of the museum and through the door to the Natural Magic Department. They climbed the wooden staircase to the second floor. The heavy oak door was locked, but luckily Rupert still had a key and was able to let them in.
When he opened the door, the smell of animal dung and urine was almost overpowering. The menagerie usually smelled pungent but clean. This was something else.
The animal pens were on either side of a long passageway. Lanterns cast a golden light, but even in the gloom they could see that the place had not been properly mucked out for days. The animals were strangely quiet in their pens.
‘What on earth’s going on?’ demanded Rupert, striding down the corridor. ‘This place is filthy!’
He gestured at some overturned wooden buckets. ‘It should be feeding time now. Where’s their food? When were the creatures last fed?’ he said angrily.
Rupert was getting very worked up now. He picked up the overturned buckets and began filling them with different types of food. ‘What’s all this I hear, too, about snufflings going missing?’ he demanded. ‘I turn my back for a few weeks and the whole place goes to rack and ruin!’
‘Don’t look at me,’ said Thistle. ‘I used to come all the time and help out but Quiggley doesn’t like me hanging around. He told me to stay away.’
‘Charming,’ said Bramble. ‘Anyway, where is Quiggley?’
Just then, Rupert gave another indignant shout. ‘Never mind Quiggley, where are all the snufflings?’
At the sound of his voice, several of the small guinea-pig-like creatures appeared inside the pen and began nuzzling around his ankles.
‘They recognised your voice,’ said Bramble. ‘They must have been hiding before, so we couldn’t see them.’
‘But where are the rest of them?’ asked Rupert, incredulously. ‘There should be twice as many as this!’
He threw some food down for the snufflings and moved on to the next pen, which housed the dodo.
‘Desmond!’ cried Rupert. His call was answered by a plaintive honking sound as the large-billed short-legged bird waddled into sight.
‘He’s losing his feathers. At this rate, he’ll be extinct by the end of the week!’ said Rupert, shaking his head. He threw a couple of fish to the dodo, which caught them in its bill and swallowed them whole.
‘And there’s the dryads,’ he added, moving on to the next pen, where the tree pixies lived. ‘Oak! Ash! Elm! Are you all right?’ He threw them some nuts and berries.
The little figures caught them and hungrily gobbled them down. The dryad called Oak waved his acorn hat in appreciation.
The next pen was covered with wire mesh and had a tall gate with blacked-out glass. It contained the flesh-eating birds called stympalians, which could kill a human with one look. The sound of metal wings could be heard on the other side. Rupert approached the pen, but then thought better of it, especially if they were hungry.
The children heard a bellowing, snorting noise coming from two pens down. They recognised the sound of the Minotaur. Rupert froze in his tracks. It was only a few months ago that the bull-headed beast had got loose from its pen. Driven mad by an enchanted musical locket, the monster would have killed Rupert and the winged horse called a Pegasus. It was only Archie’s intervention that had saved them.
Rupert, though, was oblivious to the Minotaur now. He was staring at Simon the red-bellied salamander in the next pen. The great lizard looked a washed-out grey colour.
‘Oh dear, Simon,’ muttered Rupert, shaking his head. ‘Whatever is the matter with you? Been eating too many cufflinks?’ he asked, referring to the time that the salamander had swallowed his grandfather’s lucky cufflinks.
‘He hasn’t changed colour since he escaped from his pen,’ said Thistle, casting a worried look at Simon. ‘What do you think’s wrong with him?’
Rupert put down one of the buckets he was carrying and opened the door to the pen.
‘Is that a good idea?’ asked Bramble. ‘He is a dragon after all!’
‘If he hasn’t changed colour in a while he won’t be able to flame,’ said Rupert. ‘Besides, he knows me.’
He held out his hand and the salamander’s long tongue licked it. ‘All right, old boy,’ Rupert said. He looked into the lizard’s eyes, and put his nose down near its mouth to smell its breath.
‘Graves said that someone gave him a cloaking potion to make him invisible,’ said Thistle.
‘Well, he’s definitely anaemic,’ said Rupert, after a moment’s thought. ‘His blood is too thin. He needs building up. I’ll make him a tonic with some phosphor in it – that’s what dragons need to keep their blood healthy.’
He patted the salamander on its head and stepped out of the pen, closing the gate behind him.
‘I almost don’t dare look at the Pegasus,’ he said. He walked over to the biggest pen, which housed the winged horse. He whistled and there was a movement in one corner of the pen. The Pegasus had been kneeling on the ground with its wings strapped to its back. At the sound of his voice, it stood up and trotted unsteadily towards him. The once-beautiful creature looked thin and emaciated.
‘I’ve never seen the creatures look so neglected,’ said Rupert, angrily. ‘I’ll be having a word about this.’
As soon as he’d fed and watered all the animals, he stomped off to Motley Brown’s office in the Natural Magic Department with the others trailing after him. When they got there the door was closed, but Rupert barged into the office.
‘Hello, Rupert. What a pleasant surprise,’ said Brown, smiling. ‘How nice to see you. How is Orpheus treating you at the Royal Society?’
‘Have you seen the state of the menagerie?’ demanded Rupert.
Brown blinked at him. ‘Well, erm, not recently,’ he said. ‘I’ve been rather busy with one or two other aspects of Natural Magic. How is young Quiggley getting on?’
‘He’s a disaster!’ said Rupert, hotly. ‘The place is filthy and the creatures aren’t being properly looked after. The snuffling population has been decimated, and Simon the red-bellied salamander is so anaemic he probably needs a blood transfusion!’
‘Oh dear, that’s not very good. Not very good at all,’ muttered Brown. ‘I will talk to Peter. He’s obviously not coping very well. Yours are big shoes to fill, Rupert. But you have my assurance that I will put it right.’ He paused. ‘Thank you for drawing this to my attention.’
*
As the five friends made their way back to Quill’s, Rupert’s mood had not improved.
‘I can’t believe he gave Quiggley the job instead of you,’ he said to Thistle. ‘It’s madness.’
Thistle shrugged. ‘I wasn’t best pleased either. But at least Brown knows what a lazy little weasel Quiggley is now, so he’ll make sure the animals are properly cared for.’
‘Maybe,’ said Rupert, doubtfully. ‘The trouble is that Brown has got his hands full with the rest of the Natural Magic Department. He hasn’t got time to go running around after Quiggley in the menagerie. And by the look of the place, Quiggley doesn’t give two hoots about the animals.’
Rupert shook his head, sadly. ‘I’m down in London most of the time now so I can’t keep an eye on things.’
‘Well if you give me your old key, I’ll come in from time to time just to make sure Quiggley is looking after them properly.’
‘Would you?’ said Rupert.
‘It’d be my pleasure,’ said Thistle, grinning.
Rupert dropped the key into Thistle’s hand. ‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘I’ll feel a lot better knowing there’s someone looking out for them. Oh, and give Quiggley a kick for me when you see him. And make it a big one!’
‘That would be a pleasure, too,’ said Thistle.