The next day Archie was feeling much stronger. Whatever magic was in Pink’s thickening potion it seemed to be working. Loretta agreed to let him out of bed as long as he took it easy. He spent the day skulking around the house, but was desperate to go outside.
When Bramble and Thistle returned from the museum, Bramble brought some more of the potion and Archie swallowed it down in one. When Loretta saw him she remarked on how much more colour he had in his cheeks.
‘I must ask Pink for the recipe,’ said Loretta.
Bramble winked at Archie and Thistle grinned. It was unheard of for their mother to follow any recipes.
They pleaded with Loretta to let Archie out for a stroll.
‘We won’t let him out of our sight,’ Bramble promised.
Eventually Loretta agreed, on the strict understanding that they were back before nine o’clock.
As soon as they were outside, the three cousins made a beeline for the museum. Archie kept an eye out for any suspicious-looking shadows lurking around.
On their way to Oxford city centre, they discussed the message on Fabian Grey’s memorial.
‘“Lost but not forgotten. Precious are the memories of Fabian Grey”,’ repeated Thistle.
‘Well, he was famous for his bibliographical memory,’ said Bramble. ‘Perhaps that’s what it’s referring to?
‘Gran thinks he’s still alive,’ said Thistle. ‘But is that really possible?’
A thought struck Archie like a lightning bolt. It was so obvious that he slapped his forehead. ‘Of course,’ he groaned. ‘How could we have been so stupid?’
‘What are you talking about?’ asked Thistle.
‘The Book of Reckoning! It’s been staring us in the face all this time,’ said Archie. ‘Come on!’
*
Pink mixed them a motion potion and they took the box seats to the museum, then made their way to the Scriptorium. Sure enough, Gideon Hawke’s battered old sofa was standing in the passageway on its side where it had been discarded. Archie felt a sudden anger.
‘I can’t believe they’d just throw Hawke’s things out like that!’ he said.
‘I know,’ said Bramble. ‘But Hawke is gone. It’s Brown’s office now and he’s stamping his authority on the place.’
‘What do you think will happen to Hawke?’ asked Archie.
Bramble shrugged. ‘It depends on whether they think he’s well enough to leave the asylum.’
‘Even if they do let him out, Dad says it’s very unlikely that he’ll get his job back,’ said Thistle. ‘He challenged the Magical League, so the magical authorities have got it in for him now.’
Archie looked thoughtful. ‘Yes, I saw how they treated him. It wasn’t very nice. I don’t like Uther Morgred, or the man at the asylum, Rumold. I think they’re in this up to their necks.’
‘If you’re right,’ said Bramble, ‘then we really do need to watch our backs.
They slipped into the Scriptorium. The magical torches blazed with light, illuminating the room as they stepped inside.
At night, the Scriptorium had an eerie feeling about it. For a moment Archie stood still, contemplating the silence. Bramble and Thistle stood on either side of him for moral support.
The Book of Yore was in its usual place against one wall, its ancient brown cover closed. At the far end of the Scriptorium where the two Books of Destiny had been there was just one book now. The Book of Prophecy was no more.
The Book of Reckoning recorded every birth and death in the magical realm. It was the size of a table and raised up at an angle of forty-five degrees so that its pages were visible. Suspended in its centre was an ornate crystal hourglass. The hourglass was protected by a silver case, which formed part of the spine. The pages of the book were shaped around it so that it could be seen even when the book was open.
‘I don’t know why we didn’t think of it earlier,’ said Bramble. ‘Of course The Book of Reckoning will tell us if Grey is still alive.’
The magic Bennu bird quill floated in the air just above its open pages. It was constantly updating the names and dates.
Archie had forgotten just how amazing the book was. For a moment he gazed at it in wonder. The silver hourglass kept a tally of the time that was left until the books in the museum released their magic into the world. According to legend, that day would mark either the beginning of a new golden age of magic or the start of another dark age.
‘Look!’ cried Thistle, pointing at the sand running through the crystal hourglass.
‘Time is running out,’ said Archie.
He walked up the short flight of stairs to the raised wooden viewing platform that overlooked the book. His eyes roved across the open pages.
‘Each and every one of us will pass through its pages,’ Bramble had told him the very first time he’d visited the Scriptorium. Everything had seemed so new and exciting back then. He’d just met his cousins and was discovering the museum and the magical realm. With a jolt he remembered that all of that was in danger. The Dark Flame threatened everything he cared about.
His attention returned to the Book of Reckoning. Column after column of names filled its pages. Beside each entry was their date of birth and another space to record their death.
He watched as the magic quill wrote out a new name, Jason Flinch, and the date. A new baby had been born to a magical family. But then, immediately, the pages flicked backward. The quill hovered over an earlier entry – Millicent Speckle, born 9th June 1930 – and added the word died and the date. Then it struck a single line through the name.
Archie glanced at Bramble and Thistle, standing on either side of the glass dome so they could see what was happening. He gathered himself.
‘Fabian Grey,’ he said, and held his breath.
At the sound of the name, The Book of Reckoning started to glow with a yellow light. The pages turned backwards, gathering speed until they were just a blur, and then suddenly stopped. The blue quill hovered above a faded entry.
Fabian Grey: Born 18th August 1649
There was no date for Grey’s death. The three cousins gazed at each other in wonder.
‘So Gran’s right,’ exclaimed Archie. ‘Grey is alive!’