Witch Silver (9 page)

“I’m sorry, Maritza,” the Deputy Head said, looking somewhat stunned as he regarded the massive castle from his vantage point in the wings, “it’s a truly wonderful set, but you really
should
have consulted me before you put it up, you know.”

“Perhaps you could tell me
exactly
what’s wrong with it?” the Drama teacher said, her hackles rising almost visibly as she strode onto the stage. “
Look at it
,” she waved her arms around in a gesture that embraced the entire castle — turrets,
battlements
and all. “Just
look
at it! It’s a fantastic set!
Everybody
says so!”

“It’s not suitable, that’s all,” he answered.

Maritza regarded him coldly. This, she thought furiously, was all she needed! That she’d had a bad night was putting things mildly. Deeply worried at the loss of
The Book of Spells
and unsure as to which of the witches had managed to steal it, she was in no mood to be trifled with. Her eyes narrowed angrily. The Deputy’s criticism of her beautiful set did nothing to improve her temper; indeed, she looked as though she were about to erupt. “What do you want me to do with it then?” she snapped. “Take it all down?”

Sensing danger, the Deputy Head backed off at the threat of a confrontation. The trouble with all the Drama teachers he’d ever met, he thought sourly, was their in-built tendency to go totally over the top at the drop of a hat. He looked again round the stage where the turrets of the huge castle loomed stark and
clear against a stormy sky, the yellow glow of the full moon half hidden by clouds. He pursed his lips undecidedly. There was no getting away from it, he thought, it was a fantastic set. Possibly the best he’d ever seen for a school concert.

“It would break my heart to have to take it all down,” Maritza pleaded, changing her approach — whilst wondering if she shouldn’t just hex him into agreeing to it there and then.

“Well …” he frowned.

“We put so much work into it,” she added, laying on the pathos with a trowel.

“Look, most of it’s fine,” he agreed, trying to sound
encouraging.
“It’s the battlements that are the problem.” He pointed to a staircase that curved upwards to a broad platform that was backed by a length of crenellated stonework. “That platform affair is quite a height, you know. Do you really need it?”

The Queen of the Witches took a deep breath and held on to her temper with an effort. “Of course I need it,” she said in a voice only slightly tinged with exasperation. “It’s used all the time! A whole chorus of witches stands up there in Act II. It’s … it’s the most dramatic part of the play!”

“In that case, it’ll almost certainly have to come down,” the Deputy Head said stiffly. “We can’t risk having any of the
children
falling off. I mean, one of them might forget and just step backwards. The crenellations at the back aren’t high enough to stop anyone going over and the stage,” he said crisply, “is a long way down.”

Just then, the History master walked onto the stage and whistled appreciatively as he looked round. “Some set, Maritza,” he nodded.

Maritza eyed the Deputy sideways and accepted the praise gratefully. “Thank you, Ross,” she said, inclining her head
graciously
. “I’m glad
somebody
likes it!”

“I’m not saying it’s not a good set,” muttered the Deputy. “Actually, I think it’s fabulous but I
am
Health and Safety officer for the school and we just can’t have a whole load of children prancing up and down on those battlements with nothing behind them. You know how excited they get during shows … ten to one someone would do a bit of pushing and shoving and bingo — a nightmare situation for the school!”

“He wants me to take the whole thing down, Ross,” she said angrily as the History master prowled the stage.

“Oh, I shouldn’t think there’s any need for that,” came the answer as Ross walked through an archway and peered round the back of the set. “I’d have said the solution was pretty
obvious,
really!”

“What?” Maritza’s head jerked in surprise.

“Come and have a look,” Ross Wilson invited and, as they stepped behind the castle, he pointed to the space below the battlements. “All you need is a couple of mattresses,” he said, “and then, if anybody does fall off, there’ll be no harm done.”

“You’re a genius, Ross,” Maritza clapped her hands.

“You’re right,” the Deputy Head sighed with relief, “and no need for proper mattresses, either. You can use the mats from the gym.”

“I will arrange it,” Maritza said, her black eyes flashing in relief. “Now gentlemen,” she looked at her watch, “I have a rehearsal in five minutes and still many things to do. The mats first of all!”

“The funniest bit of the rehearsal,” Clara confided to Neil later when she flew over to his room, “was when Angela fooled around with the cauldron and Sandra stuffed a plastic spider down her blazer.”

“Is that all?” Neil looked up in surprise as he finished
sorting
out his homework. “
I
heard there was a bit of a stink about the set?”

“Really?” Clara said, interestedly. “We never heard anything about
that
.”

“Well, we had History after break and Mr Wilson told us that the Deputy Head was threatening to have it all pulled down!”

“Pulled down!” Clara echoed, looking horrified. “
No way
!”

Neil raised his eyebrows. “Good, is it?”

“Haven’t you
seen
it yet?” she asked in surprise and as he shook his head, added. “It’s the most fabulous set I’ve ever seen; a really super castle. Dead creepy.”

“I bet she hexed it up in a couple of seconds,” Neil replied, only half listening as, for the hundredth time, he took out his copy of the riddle and stared at it as though hoping the answer would jump out at him.

“I almost forget to tell you,” Clara continued. “We tested one of the harnesses. Monica put on hers and flew from one side of the wings to the other on a broomstick. It’ll look great on the night but she looked a bit stupid in school uniform. Everyone cheered and Miss Markham was furious. I thought she was going to hex us all! I’m not surprised that everybody hates her; she was in
such
a foul mood today!”

“I’m not surprised, after last night,” grinned Neil. “She must be worried out of her mind.” He looked at her anxiously. “Where did you put
The Book of Spells,
by the way?”

“I’ve hidden it on top of my wardrobe under some school books,” Clara admitted. “I hope it’s safe. If the witches find out that it was us that took it …” she shivered at the thought.

“The MacArthur’s spell protected us,” Neil pointed out
reasonably.
“You know that! The witches didn’t sense that anyone else was around at all.”

“You never know, we might have left a clue behind that’ll
bring them straight here.”

“Give over, Clara,” Neil looked irritated. “You’re worrying about nothing.”

“I can’t help it, Neil,” Clara admitted. “I’m really scared of Miss Markham. Maybe we should ask Kitor and Cassia to go to Arthur’s Seat and tell the MacArthur what we’ve been up to and … and ask about
The Book of Spells,
as well. What do you think?”

Neil frowned. “Where
is
Kitor?” he asked.

“They’re both in my room, perched on the chair beside the radiator,” Clara answered with a reluctant smile. “Either my room’s much more comfortable for roosting in than the trees or they’re guarding
The Book of Spells!
”

“You could take the book home and hide it there,” Neil
suggested
, looking at his watch. “It would take you about an hour to get to Craiglaw and back on your broomstick. What about it?”

Clara shook her head. “That’s not a good idea, Neil. I’d rather send Kitor and Cassia back to the hill for if the witches suspect anyone of stealing
The Book of Spells,
it’ll be either the Wind Witches or the Snow Witches. I reckon they’ll be on the
lookout
for broomsticks … any broomsticks!”

“You’re right,” Neil agreed, “I didn’t think of that.” He looked at her anxious face and smiled. “Calm down,” he said. “We’ll send Kitor and Cassia off tonight. Okay?”

“Great,” Clara said, relief colouring her voice. “That makes me feel a lot better.”

Neil nodded. “It’s just as well we don’t need the broomsticks at the moment — apart from flying between our rooms, that is.” He grinned mischievously. “Face it, Clara! You’ll just have to make do with the harness in the school play for now!”

Clara shook her head. “Actually, I don’t get to fly at all,” she
grinned. “I’m one of the “pretend” witches.”

Neil looked at her sideways. “What on earth’s a ‘pretend’ witch?”

“Well,” Clara shrugged, “some of us are kids playing at being witches and the others are supposed to be ‘real’ witches.”

“So you’re not one of the stars!” Neil teased.

“I don’t want to be,” she assured him. “Not with Miss Markham around.”

“Yeah,” Neil nodded, “I’ll keep out of her way, too, just in case she senses any magic in me.”

“The play’s quite good fun otherwise, though,” Clara
continued
. “I got to know one or two of the girls better this morning. Angela seems really nice and on the days her dad’s late in
picking
her up, I’ve asked her to come to my room.”

“Good,” Neil looked across at her and was relieved to see that she looked more like her old self. It had worried him that Clara seemed to be on her own all the time once classes finished. “Why’s the play called
Pumpkin Pie,
by the way? It seems to be all about witches.”

“We find a spell in an old book and change our pumpkin into a magic one that conjures up bats and owls and real witches. We all run away and the real witches change it into a pie.”

“Doesn’t sound very exciting,” Neil grumbled.

“I know — it sounds nothing the way I’m telling it, but it’s actually quite good,” Clara grinned. “Anyway, cheer up! Miss Markham’s got the kitchen staff organized and you’re all going to get a huge slice of pumpkin pie at the end of the dress rehearsal.”

Neil’s eyes brightened. “Mightn’t be so bad, then!”

Clara looked at her watch and sighed. Time to be getting back, she thought. She still had some homework to finish as
well. She looked at Neil somewhat guiltily. It wasn’t that she wanted to hide anything from him but somehow she just couldn’t tell him how
The Book of Spells
fascinated her. The dusty pages of old parchment, the funny old-fashioned writing and strange magic words that she couldn’t understand seemed to send her into a dream and although she wouldn’t admit it, even to herself, she knew perfectly well that the spells that she read were imprinted in her memory. “Did you have any luck with Mrs Weston?” she asked, seeing the riddle lying beside his Maths book.

Neil shook his head. “No, I didn’t have a chance,” he admitted. “The Geography teacher’s off sick and she’s taking some of his classes. I’ll try and see her tomorrow.”

“Do you really think she might work it out for us?” Clara asked, taking her magic ring off.

“Well, she was Auntie Muriel’s friend and Mum said they always did the
Scotsman
crossword together at break.”

“You’ll have to ask her not to mention it to anyone,” Clara warned, slipping the ring onto her left hand and disappearing entirely as she reached for her broomstick.

Neil nodded as he turned to open the window for her. “I won’t forget,” he said.

“Of course, I’d be delighted to help you, Neil,” Mrs Weston said with a smile, scanning the riddle thoughtfully as the rest of his class drifted out at the end of the lesson. “It’s strange that Muriel said nothing to me about riddles but it certainly looks intriguing.”

“My mother said you were good at puzzles,” Neil said, “so we’re hoping you might be able to solve it for us.”

“In that case, I suggest that you keep the original sheet, Neil, and give me a copy. Just in case I lose it! Here,” she said, reaching for a sheet of paper, “why don’t you take this and copy it down for me.”

“Thanks, Mrs Weston,” he said gratefully, moving towards one of the desks, “it won’t take a minute.”

He picked up a pencil and wrote:

“That’s it finished,” he said, getting up and handing her the paper as the classroom started to fill with sixth formers.

“Right, that’s fine,” she said, glancing at it briefly before folding the sheet in half and slipping it inside a book of poems. “I’m afraid it’ll be break before I have a chance to look at it,” she apologized. “As you see, I have a class now.”

Although Neil tried to hide his disappointment, his face fell noticeably.

“Don’t worry,” she assured him. “I’ll catch up with you later on in the day. Promise!”

“I’ve got rugby practice after lunch,” Neil said, suddenly wishing that all his classes had been in the main building that afternoon.

“I’ll find you,” she said, seeing his worried look.

“And you won’t tell anyone, will you?” he whispered. “It’s a secret …”

“My lips are sealed,” she assured him seriously. And her eyes were kind.

Herr von Grozny raised his eyebrows as Neil knocked on the door and entered the classroom with a muttered apology.

“Where were you, Neil, to be so late?” he queried in German. “The rest of the class managed to arrive in good time.”

“I was with …”

“In German, please!” Von Grozny’s tone was haughty.

Neil took a deep breath and marshalled his thoughts. “I had a question to ask Mrs Weston and it took longer than I thought.” He looked doubtfully at von Grozny, almost sure that he’d made a horrendous mistake with his endings somewhere along the line. The icy blue eyes should have frozen him solid but, for an instant, he thought he caught more than a flicker of
amusement in his glance.

“Very well, Neil. Sit down and get your book out. We are on page 175, the perfect tense.”

Neil slipped into his seat and made a face at George as he rummaged through his bag for his German grammar. It wasn’t there. His heart sank. He’d left it in his room, hadn’t he? Blast, it had probably slipped down the side of his bed and he just hadn’t noticed.

“We are waiting for you, Neil …” von Grozny’s was smooth and unhurried, almost as if he knew the book wasn’t there.

“Sir, I …” Neil rummaged some more.

“In German, please.”

“I’m very sorry, Herr von Grozny, but I was …” he gulped, “I was learning my verbs in bed last night and I think I must have fallen asleep and … and …”

Von Grozny sighed. “Are you trying to tell me that your German grammar book is in your bed?” he said gravely.

Neil nodded, his face red with embarrassment. The class, however, seeing von Grozny’s lips twitch in amusement, burst out laughing.

“Since you have already wasted so much time, I suggest you share George’s book,” von Grozny said as the laughter died away, “but first we’ll see how much you remember, shall we?”

Neil eyed him apprehensively. He wasn’t really worried as he’d been studying hard. The man demanded high standards and Neil felt he would rather die than fall short of them. Indeed, he was beginning to have serious doubts at his
assertion
that von Grozny was using magic to teach him.

“Now, Neil,” von Grozny began. The questioning went on for some time until some of the class shifted uncomfortably, feeling that the inquisition had gone on long enough. Von Grozny took no notice and by the time he had finished, Neil felt totally washed
out. Nevertheless, he’d only made two mistakes and felt that he hadn’t done at all badly.

“So,” von Grozny nodded thoughtfully, ‘very well done, Neil. You look like becoming our star pupil. Didn’t you tell me that you hadn’t studied German before you came to the school?”

“I did French in Edinburgh, Sir,” Neil answered readily enough.

“You obviously have a flair for languages, Neil. Three house points.”

There was a gasp from the rest of the class. To get one house point out of the German master was an achievement. Three was unheard of.

The rest of lesson proceeded as normal and it was as they filed out that George whispered. “You did really well out of that!”

Neil flushed and was about to answer angrily when George looked at his face and put a hand on his arm. “Don’t be daft,” he said. “I’m not talking about the house points. You deserved them. It’s just that if anyone else had forgotten their German grammar he’d have really blasted them, you know he would!”

“Maybe he knows that I like the language,” Neil said
doubtfully
. “I don’t know what it is about German, I just like it. More than I did French.”

“I wish
I
did,” George answered enviously. “I’m useless. I always forget to put the verb at the end of the sentence.”

Herr von Grozny sat back in his chair as the class filed out and tapped a pencil thoughtfully on the wood of his desk. He knew perfectly well that it had been Neil and Clara that he’d nearly caught in the library. He’d picked up their scent immediately and wondered idly if they knew he’d guessed their identity. Lady Merial’s niece and nephew. That had been a real eye-opener. He’d picked up the gossip in the staff room almost by accident.

Should he patrol the corridors again that night? He pursed
his lips and sighed inwardly for so far his searches of the school and the surrounding countryside had yielded nothing and his master, too, was becoming steadily more and more irritated at his lack of progress. Indeed, the increasingly angry exchanges through the crystal made him wish that he’d never mentioned the two children for, although he’d kept a wary eye on the
staircases
that led to the towers, neither of them had ventured out in the dark to explore the school since. He’d have picked up their scent otherwise. And Neil had, indeed, been telling the truth when he’d said he’d spent the night learning his verbs. He sighed. Maybe he was attaching too much importance to them but the fact remained that they both wore magic rings and must, like the witches, be looking for the talisman.

He saw her coming towards him as he left the Rugby pitch, totally knackered, spattered with mud but over the moon, nevertheless, as he’d scored a try.

“Great game, Neil!”

“Well done, Neil!”

He grinned and waved his thanks as his mates who, seeing Mrs Weston approach with the obvious intention of collaring him, sloped off towards the changing rooms.

Neil’s heart jumped as he saw that Mrs Weston, clutching her coat to her in the biting wind, had a beaming smile on her face. She’s solved it, he thought. By golly, she’s solved it!

“You know the answer, don’t you,” he said eagerly, running towards her.

“Yes, I do,” she laughed. “It was very easy really!”

“Easy!” Neil said. “Clara and I
and
my mum and dad have been trying to work it out for weeks now!”

“You should have brought it to me whenever you started at Netherfield,” she said. “Muriel would know that I’d get the
answer right away.”

“What
is
the answer then?” Neil asked, shivering in the cold.

“The answer is ‘Black Bull’.”

“A black bull?” Neil repeated, thinking the wind had blown her words away and he hadn’t heard her properly.

“Yes,” she nodded, pulling the paper from her pocket and showing him it. “Look!”

“I don’t understand at all,” his eyes mirrored his disbelief. “How do you get a black bull out of that?”

“Not
a
black bull, Neil. Just two words — Black Bull.” She smiled at him. “You’re obviously not a puzzle-solver. It’s quite easy, really! Look, the first letter of each word reading
downwards
make up the words.”

A gust of wind almost tore the paper from Mrs Weston’s hands as she said this but she clung on to it and held it steady. The words positively jumped out at Neil as he read down the line. “Black Bull,” he read. “How … how didn’t I see that before,” he gasped, looking up at her in amazement. “I can’t believe I missed it!”

“Have you been there yet?” she asked.

“Been where?” he queried.

“Why, to the Black Bull, of course,” she answered with a smile, seeing his blank look.

“I’ve … I’ve never even heard of it!”

She frowned and then her face cleared. “Of course,” she said, “I’d quite forgotten that you haven’t lived here for all that long. I … well, I thought Muriel might have taken you there when you visited her. Your mum and dad will know it. They do an excellent lunch.”

“So Mum and Dad will know where it is?”

“Bound to, I should think. It’s a very old inn,” she explained, “in a village called Etal — not all that far away, as the crow flies, really, just a few miles.”

“So … so the Black Bull is actually a place …?” Neil’s heart lifted. “For a few minutes I thought I was going to have to go round the countryside looking for black bulls!”

Mrs Weston shook her head. “Etal is well worth a visit,” she smiled. “It’s very, very old, you know. You’ll like it. There’s an ancient castle in the middle of the village and the Black Bull’s been around for centuries! It has a thatched roof and,” she paused, eyeing him with a smile and dropping her voice to whisper softly in his ear, “there’s an old fireplace in the bar.”

The Wind Witch who had been hovering round them, frowned in annoyance. Try as she might, she hadn’t caught that last bit of the conversation but maybe it wasn’t so important. What she’d already heard was enough to set her pulses racing. Indeed, she was almost falling off her broomstick in
excitement
at what she’d just heard. Just
wait
until she told Wanda! Quivering with excitement, she pulled up the handle of her broomstick and soared towards the clouds.

It was as she had thought. At the mention of what she’d
discovered
, she had her mistress’s undivided attention. Indeed, at first, Wanda, Queen of the Wind Witches, could hardly believe her ears. A human child holding the secret to the talisman! It was unheard of! “Are you sure?” she said, sitting up straight, her eyes sharp with interest.

The wind witch bowed low. This was her moment of
triumph
! “The teacher mentioned Muriel, Majesty,” she said, “and I remembered that was Merial’s name in the human world. I think the boy must be her nephew. I saw him in the garden at Craiglaw House when we were searching in the trees.”

Wanda nodded impatiently. “And?”

“His name is Neil. That’s what the teacher called him. Then she gave him the answer to a riddle.”

“A riddle?” the queen repeated.

“That’s what she called it. I tried to grab the paper out of her hand but I wasn’t quick enough. She was holding on to it too tightly.”

“But you read it?” the Queen asked anxiously.

“Of course, I read it, Majesty. I can’t remember it word for word but it mentioned the talisman and the Lords of Morven.”

“The Lords of Morven,” Wanda sat back in the cushioned folds of her cloud-like throne and felt a stab of worry. One didn’t meddle in the affairs of powerful magicians without good cause. But then, as far as she was concerned, the talisman was the best of causes. She brought her mind back swiftly to the present. “What was the answer to the riddle? Did you hear that?”

“I did, Majesty. The answer is Black Bull,” the witch replied and, seeing her mistress’s puzzled frown, added. “The boy didn’t know what it meant either until she told him. It’s the old inn at Etal. The Black Bull.”

The queen rose gracefully from her throne, her grey silk robes falling in elegant folds round her feet. Her eyes shone with
elation
. “You have done very well, Janetta,” she smiled, “very well, indeed. But you must tell no one about this.” Her expression changed suddenly as she thought of what would happen should the Snow Witches get to hear of this boy; or the Earth Witches for that matter. “It must be our secret, do you understand?”

“I will tell no one, Majesty!” Janetta replied, reading the threat in the queen’s glance.

“We will go to Etal tomorrow,” the queen mused, already dreaming of the power the talisman would give her, “and you, Janetta, will be my second in command.”

“Thank you, Majesty,” Janetta curtseyed, her eyes shining with excitement.

The Queen smiled. “After all,” she pointed out, “you are the only one who knows what this boy, Neil, looks like.”