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They travelled in silence, plodding upwards in patches of lamplight, until they arrived at a dead end.
Beansprout couldn’t hide her disappointment. “It doesn’t go anywhere!”
Nimue grinned. “I bet it does! A hidden door, Merlin?”
“Of course,” he said. “Only an amateur wouldn’t hide it.”
Beansprout’s hopes lifted as Nimue placed her hand on the wall and murmured a spell.
Nothing happened.
She frowned, and tried another. Again nothing happened.
“Let me,” Merlin said. “What did you try?”
“The reveal spell and an invisibility spell.”
Merlin snorted. “It must be something more relevant, Nimue.”
Nimue raised an eyebrow. “I was starting with something simple,” she said huffily and stepped back. “Your turn, Merlin.”
Beansprout suppressed a smile at their banter. It was amazing, considering their history, that they could stand to be so close now – it was as if old friendships had returned. Although Nimue remained a little aloof from Merlin, Beansprout could see she cared about him, and that they respected each other. And Merlin certainly minded his manners around her, and never outstayed his welcome, often keeping to his own company. Knowing how much his attentions had smothered her in the past must have made him modify his behaviour.
“Do you remember that obsequious king who threatened Arthur, Nimue?” he asked as he examined the wall.
“Many kings threatened Arthur; you’ll have to be more specific.”
“That little one, from across the sea. He arrived on a black ship with gulls’ wings on the side. He turned up in court one day with an ultimatum and I banished him to a room with no doors.”
She looked thoughtful. “Vaguely. Why?”
“Because I think it was the same spell that Giolladhe has used. Or Raghnall.” He muttered softly under his breath and a faint line started to spread from the floor upwards, until it made the shape of a door. “I thought so, just a ‘say please’ spell.”
“And what happened to the king?” Beansprout asked.
“We found him a week later, dead. He never could find his manners, even when his life depended on it.”
Before Beansprout could say anything else, Merlin pushed the door open and they all heard a yell and the distinctive whisper of swords being drawn. Then, as the door opened fully, Merlin found a sword tip under his chin.
“Woodsmoke! It’s me!” Merlin shouted, as Nimue raised her hands to attack.
“That’s an excellent way to get yourself killed, Merlin!” Woodsmoke said, annoyed, as Bloodmoon sighed behind him and sheathed his sword. “Welcome to Giolladhe’s workshop.”
“Where have you come from?” said Bloodmoon.
“The House of the Beloved, of course,” Beansprout said.
“Of course!” Woodsmoke said snarkily. “That’s so obvious.”
She grinned at him. “Oh hush, Woodsmoke. So, we’re actually here – in the workshop!”
They filed into a dimly lit room with a low roof. The only things in it were a wooden chair and a huge wooden bed that took up most of the space. In the wall opposite the hidden doorway was another door.
“Have you found anything?” Nimue asked, looking around. “I presume there’s more to the place than this?”
“There’s a lot of rooms here,” Bloodmoon said, “all layered on top of each other. We think some are natural caves, and others were made by magic. But there’s nothing here, other than old furniture and tools.”
“It’s odd,” Woodsmoke added. “The place has been cleared as if he was ready to leave, but there was a key in the door, locking it.”
A shiver ran up Beansprout’s spine. “You mean it was locked from the inside? But there’s no sign of him?” She looked around the room as if she might see his bones in the corner.
“No sign. Not even under those rotten bed covers.” Woodsmoke gestured towards the pile on the unmade bed.
Merlin stalked around the room, feeling the walls. “Any suggestion of magic?”
“Not that we can tell,” Woodsmoke said. “We certainly couldn’t see that door you’ve just come through. Although seeing anything here is difficult in this dim light.”
Nimue walked over to the lantern hanging from the centre of the ceiling. “Let me see if I can improve this,” she said, and with a murmur the light flared brightly and the whole room emerged from the shadows.
They spent a few minutes checking there was nothing they’d missed, before Woodsmoke said, “Come on, we’ll give you the tour. You might see something we haven’t.”
As they followed him downstairs, Beansprout said, “Where’s Tom?”
“We left him searching boxes in the downstairs storeroom. I suppose we should check on him, he’s been very quiet,” Bloodmoon said, a note of worry in his voice.
“Better take us there now,” Merlin said.
A sudden urgency drove them down the warren of steep stairs and past open doorways until they came into the main workshop. They followed Woodsmoke into the storeroom and found it empty.
“Where is he?” Nimue said, voicing everyone’s concern.
“Have we passed him somewhere in another room?” Merlin asked.
“He’d have heard us, surely?” Beansprout said, her heart sinking.
“Perhaps there’s another doorway?” Woodsmoke said, now looking confused. “He can’t have gone far.”
“Oh yes he can,” Merlin said, from in front of a cupboard. “There’s a portal here.”
“What!” they exclaimed as one, rushing over.
Then there was chaos as they argued about what could have happened and where Tom could be. They had to physically restrain Woodsmoke from plunging in after him.
“I must go!” he yelled. “Tom could be in trouble!”
“But where would you end up?” Beansprout said. She agreed Woodsmoke should go, but was worried they’d lose him as well.
As they argued, the blackness in the portal swirled and Tom fell out, bringing Beansprout down with him in a tangle of legs.
Tom gasped. “Wow! I’m back! Awesome.” And then he realised who he’d crashed into. “What are you doing here, Beansprout?”
“Great Goddess, Tom!” she said, the wind knocked out of her. “Where have you been? You’re filthy! And you reek of sulphur.”
It was twilight, and they were sitting outside enjoying the heat after the dark dampness of the caves, listening to Tom’s story and examining the moonstone.
Woodsmoke was angry. “You should never have gone in alone, Tom!”
“I didn’t plan to,” he reasoned. “I thought it was another room.” He looked at Beansprout with guilty delight. “I met a djinn – he granted me a wish!”
“Tom, you could have been killed,” she said, excited and cross at the same time. “What did you wish for?”
“Gold? Jewels?” Bloodmoon asked, his eyes lighting up.
“No! I just wished to be in front of the portal.”
Bloodmoon sighed. “What a wasted opportunity.”
Merlin shook his head. “Arthur will not be happy at you going alone.”
“Will everyone please calm down?” Tom said, beginning to look grumpy. “I’m fine, and I’ve found the moonstone. That’s good, right?”
Bloodmoon gave a sly wink. “I’ll make a fine thief of you yet, Tom.”
“No, you will not,” Woodsmoke said, with a glare.
Tom interrupted them. “And look at Galatine.” He showed them the swirling djinns’ eye opals.
“What’s happened to it?” Merlin asked, examining it.
“The sword now lives ... or something like that,” Tom said. “The djinn said it was muted before. Inactivated by Giolladhe before he passed it to Vivian.” He paused for a second. “I think it was another way of Giolladhe trying to prevent Filtiarn changing.”
Woodsmoke sighed. “My head hurts and I’m starving. Let’s head back. We need to talk to Arthur, see if he’s found the grove.” He looked at Beansprout. “Did you find anything to break the curse?”
“Not yet, but we will. There are a few more passages to search.”
“I’ll seal this end,” Merlin said, stroking his beard, “and we’ll return above ground. I think we should explore the caves later. With one hidden portal to contend with, who knows what’s down there. I feel we should be properly prepared before we look again.”
