The Dragon's Eye (10 page)

“What's Q.T.B.?” I asked.

“It's a club,” said Beatrice. “No boys allowed.”

“All right,” I said, “I believe you. But do you want to see this cockatrice?”

Beatrice fetched a piece of paper so that she could copy it all out.

“Do you mind?” she asked Darcy.

“Not at all,” he said. “And I'm sure Dr. Drake won't mind either, now that you have done the homework he set.”

“Thank you,” she said.

While Beatrice copied out the details, I tried to have a look at the game she had invented.

“How do you play?” I asked.

“Sorry,” said Beatrice. “Q.T.B. members only.”

“But what does it stand for?” I asked.

“Quicker than boys.”

And she shut the door.

The following morning we had an introduction to Eastern dragons. We learned that while dragons in the West are often thought of as horrible monsters, in the East, dragons are considered beneficial helpmeets to mankind and are celebrated with dragon dances and dragon boat races.

In the afternoon we learned about a polar cousin of the European dragon known as the frost dragon. We charted the migratory routes of some frost dragons based on sightings by various S.A.S.D. agents. One of the sightings had come from a place in northern India. I wondered if our parents had reported it.

The next day Emery and Mademoiselle Gamay taught a class on the life cycle of dragons. Mademoiselle Gamay told us that dragons grow continually through their lives, like snakes and crocodiles, and we spent some time looking at various pictures of dragons and estimating their ages from their sizes. Emery showed us an interesting series of pictures that showed how a dragon embryo develops in the egg.

On the fourth day Dr. Drake brought in to the schoolroom a pile of what he called dragon-tracking paraphernalia. There was a flameproof cloak, which looked like a piece of canvas that had been painted with some sort of flame-retardant paint, a whistle that was supposed to summon dragons, and a pair of binoculars that had a convenient compass set into the handle. After he had let us look at them — cautioning us not under any circumstances to blow the whistle — he pointed to the blackboard, which still had the diagram he had drawn showing how dragons breathe fire.

“Can anyone remember how fire is produced?” he asked.

Beatrice's hand shot up. So did Billy's, but it was a fraction of a second later.

“Well, Beatrice?” said Dr. Drake.

Beatrice smiled. This was obviously Q.T.B. in action.

“The dragon has a special pouch where it puts a piece of flint and a piece of iron something or other.”

“Pyrites,” said Billy and Dr. Drake at the same time.

“Iron pyrites. It uses them to make a spark, and the spark lights the flammable venom in its fangs.”

“Quite correct,” said Dr. Drake. “Now I think it is time for a little visit to see Scorcher. But we must be careful.” And he looked at me. “Scorcher is quite recovered from his illness now, but you mustn't get too close to him. While he is here, I think we can see how he is learning to produce fire. It is quite remarkable, given that he is so young.”

We trooped over to the coal shed, and Dr. Drake, who had brought a lantern, unlocked the door. Being very careful not to open the door very wide, he went in first and soothed Scorcher with the same lullaby I had heard him use before, and then he called us in.

Scorcher was sitting in a corner of the shed, looking rather sleepy. He was no longer in his cage, but instead was sitting atop the strangest pile of things imaginable. There were some rocks and pieces of coal, a lot of shiny silver knives, forks, and spoons, two old plates, and some pieces of broken mirror. Right on the top were a few of the glass beads that Emery had used to distract Jamal.

“This is the closest I could get to mimicking a dragon's lair at short notice,” said Dr. Drake. “A baby dragon like Scorcher will still spend most of his time in his mother's lair, eating and growing until he is big enough to start learning to fly.”

From what I had seen at Dr. Drake's Dragonalia, Scorcher was already learning to fly, but I didn't say anything. I didn't want to do anything much except look at him.

Dr. Drake took a glass bead from his pocket and showed it to Scorcher, who immediately perked up and gave a little screech.

“Keep back and watch,” he said.

He pocketed the bead, and Scorcher immediately left the top of the pile and hopped over towards us.

“Now,” said Dr. Drake. “Fetch!”

He pretended to throw the bead over Scorcher's shoulder.

Scorcher raced back over to where he thought the bead had landed and sniffed for it. When he couldn't find it, he became agitated. Pretty soon I saw him making a sort of strange movement with his jaw, and I guessed he was jiggling about a piece of flint and iron pyrites. Sure enough, when you knew what to look for, you could see the little sparks that he was making. I also saw a wisp of the same cloud of sulphurous smoke I had seen in Dr. Drake's Dragonalia.

Scorcher turned and looked right into my eyes as though asking me what had happened to the shiny thing that Dr. Drake had thrown. I couldn't turn away, and I felt a sudden urge to go over to him. As I started going towards him, someone pulled me back, but I shook the person off. Beatrice shouted, and Scorcher started screeching loudly and flapping his wings. I can't remember anything that happened after that until I came to outside. Beatrice and Dr. Drake were standing over me and the other children were standing nearby, looking worried.

“Will he be all right?” demanded Beatrice. “What happened to him?”

“I'm afraid that Daniel has undergone a small case of dragon hypnosis,” said Dr. Drake. “I am sorry. It is quite unprecedented for a dragon as young as Scorcher to hypnotise someone. But he will be all right — I promise.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“Daniel,” said Dr. Drake gravely, “you must rest. When you have rested, I want you to come and see me in my office. But until then I am going to ask you to let me have your dragon record book. And I am going ask you to stay in another bedroom.”

I was devastated. Did this mean I wasn't going to be able to study dragons anymore? But I felt so light-headed, I didn't know what to do, so I let Dr. Drake and Mademoiselle Gamay take me upstairs to a bedroom. I lay down and slept for what felt like three days.

As I slept, I dreamt. At first I dreamt that Beatrice was sitting by my side but that when I turned to look at her, I saw Scorcher instead, baring his teeth at me. I tried searching for the beads that he was looking for, but I couldn't seem to find them. He looked angrier and angrier, and sparks and smoke started coming from his mouth as he leaned over me. Then he turned into Dr. Drake, mopping my brow with a damp cloth. Then Dr. Drake turned into Ignatius Crook, holding up one of the glass beads triumphantly.

“It is mine!” cried Ignatius in my dream. “The Dragon's Eye is mine!” He let out a wicked laugh and disappeared into a dark doorway between the window and the wardrobe.

After he had gone, I tried to get up to warn Dr. Drake, but I felt as though I were lying on a bed made of bits of broken mirror and I daren't move in case I rolled over onto anything sharp.

At last I woke up properly in a cold sweat. I felt ravenously hungry, so I got up and went into the kitchen, where Emery was making some coffee.

“Hello, trooper,” he said smiling. “You're a sight for sore eyes. Do you feel up to some soup?”

I nodded glumly.

“You're quite a phenomenon,” said Emery. “You know, dragons can't usually hypnotise people until they are fully grown. I don't think Scorcher meant to do it. It just happened.”

“Will I be able to carry on studying dragonology?” I asked.

“Don't worry about that,” he said. “Have some soup!”

But I
was
worried about it. While I was having my soup, Beatrice came rushing in and gave me a hug.

“I was so frightened, Daniel,” she said.

“I'm all right,” I said.

After I had finished the soup, we went into the garden. I looked at the rabbits. I thought about Weasel and Jamal and Scorcher. Then I saw a strange carriage, sitting by the side of the house.

“I've got to go and see Dr. Drake,” I said.

“I think he's got company,” said Beatrice.

“I have to go and see him, though,” I said.

When I got to Dr. Drake's study, I had a strong sense of déjà vu. There was a lot of angry shouting coming from inside, and I heard the name Ignatius Crook more than once.
It must be Mr. Tibbs,
I thought. So instead of knocking, I waited outside, where I could hear what was going on. This is what I heard:

“And what about the reports coming from Cornwall about a huge, fiery monster crawling about the farms at night and stealing sheep? Or the stories of travellers scared on the road by an enormous winged serpent flying up and down the east coast of Scotland? The newspapers haven't printed any of these stories yet, but we are having a hard time putting them all down as the ramblings of deluded cranks. It won't be very long before someone puts two and two together and gets ‘dragon'!”

That was Mr. Tibbs.

“And I repeat that this has nothing to do with the Secret and Ancient Society. Although it is an extremely worrying development.”

That was Dr. Drake.

“Coupled with your having a live and very dangerous dragon right in the heart of London, I would have said that it is rather more than a worrying development!” yelled Mr. Tibbs.

“As I said, from your descriptions, it certainly seems that someone has been up to no good. Has anyone spoken to Ignatius Crook?”

“Of course. It was Ignatius Crook who was kind enough to inform the Minister that your ill-starred experiments in so-called dragon science seemed to have taken a turn for the worse. He was entertaining a lady dragonologist and was taking her to see your shop when he discovered what you were up to.”

“You're saying that he came round to see me at six o'clock in the morning,” said Dr. Drake. “That hardly seems a very sociable hour to be paying visits. And surely the Minister does not distrust my version of events entirely. Otherwise he would not have sent his son to my summer school, don't you think?”

“I am not entirely privy to the Minister's thoughts, Doctor,” said Mr. Tibbs. “But I believe you to be an ambitious man. The Minister and I have had to spend a great deal of time hushing up dragon incidents that involved you in the past. Of course, you always claimed that you were only doing what was necessary in order to protect both humans and dragons. Can you really assure me that you are not seeking those dragonological treasures that Ebenezer Crook and the late Lord Chiddingfold determined should be returned to the safekeeping of the Society of Dragons? You are one of the few men who could discover where they are. You would find their powers extremely useful. Of that I have no doubt.”

“And are
you
sure that it is not
Ignatius Crook
who is searching for them?” said Dr. Drake. “As far as I can see, he considers them to be family heirlooms. He was very upset when his father refused to tell him where they were. He feels he has been robbed.”

“We all know that Ignatius has made mistakes in the past, but he has sworn to the Minister that his only interest in dragons is theoretical.”

“And who is the woman he was with?”

“Her name is Alexandra Gorynytchka. She is a Russian, I believe, and a leading member of the Russian Dragonological Society. She is here on a research trip.”

“I think I have met Miss Gorynytchka. What is she researching?”

“I am not sure — dragon diseases or something. In any case, it is beside the point. The Minister wants to know when you are going to release the two dragons you are supposedly looking after. You are sure you are not training them for something? Surely it is time they both went back into the wild. We have heard reports that you are unable to keep Jamal in his compound. I hope that we shall not have to cover up further reports of fiery devastation in the Sussex countryside?”

“I can assure you that I am taking every step to keep Jamal confined,” said Dr. Drake. “We check up on him every day, and I shall take him home to North Africa myself the very minute he is able to fly properly.”

I was engrossed in this conversation, but suddenly I heard another noise behind me. Someone was coming up the stairs. I quickly knocked on Dr. Drake's door. The voices within went quiet, and the door swung open.

“Why, Daniel,” said Dr. Drake, “I am glad to see you looking so well. Mr. Tibbs is just leaving.”

Mr. Tibbs looked as red-faced as I remembered from the first meeting.

“Well, I daresay I have said my piece for now,” he said. “Just be careful, Drake. I don't want to hear about any more burning barns or missing sheep!”

And with that, he took his hat and left, nodding to Emery, who had come up the stairs and was now standing at the door with a sheaf of papers.