are we going?” he whispered.
“The kitchen,” Bea replied. They reached the bottom of the stairs and she pushed the kitchen door gently ajar. As soon as they entered, she lit the candle Mrs Timmins kept on the table and led him into the pantry, a snug little alcove separate from the room itself.
“What’s going on?”
“I have something for you,” she told him at last.
“At this time of night!” He watched as she pushed aside some large earthenware jars. Even then he had to wait while she carefully drew back a folded tablecloth. But when finally he saw what lay revealed, he could barely breathe. “The Book of Lies!”
He reached in and took it down from the shelf, carrying it carefully to the kitchen table, where he stroked the cracked and flaking red leather of its cover. “What was it doing there, in the pantry?”
Bea sent him an exasperated glance. “I hid it there,” she said, in a tone that hinted he should have guessed that much for himself.
Marcel didn’t notice. He was still trying to grasp the fact that the Book was right here in front of him. “But how did you get hold of it?”
“I took it from the tower, of course.”
“You can’t have! The door is sealed by magic.”
“I told you, there’s another way up there.”
Another way. What was she talking about? Then it came to him. “The hidden tunnel! You mean you…”
“This morning, when you and Fergus were racing into the village, I sneaked away from my chores and saw Lord Alwyn watching you from the window.”
“You guessed he would send Termagant down through that passage to get me, didn’t you?”
Bea was excited now. She could barely manage to keep her voice down. “I hid myself near the bushes and saw where she came out. The opening, Marcel – I found it at last! Now I can go up there any time I like.”
Marcel stared at her. “Any time you like! Are you mad?”
“No, it’s all right. Tonight, I just had to wait until I heardthat noise in the wall and then I knew Termagant had gone out hunting. It’s so narrow; no wonder Termagant makes such a noise when she squeezes through it. And even in daylight it’s impossible to see.”
“But what about Lord Alwyn? I suppose he said, ‘Hello, come on in, Bea. Let me hold the candle for you.’”
Bea made a face. “Even wizards sleep at night, you know – and besides, even if he had been awake, he wouldn’t have seen me ,” she said confidently. She folded her arms to show she was growing tired of his lack of faith in her.
Marcel made himself calm down. If he had sounded a little harsh, it was only because he was worried about her. Terrified, really. This was the second time she had taken a dreadful risk to help him. “I’m sorry I questioned you,” he said softly, and to show it he touched her gently on the arm. “You went up there just to get this book for me. I can’t believe it. Bea, that’s braver than anything I did today.”
Bea blushed brightly, not easy for a girl who usually faded into the shadows. “Now we can work out whether your real life is written inside. Quickly, see what you can find,” she urged him. “Termagant won’t stay out all night, and I’ll have to return it before she comes back.”
Marcel opened the cover and leaned forward, impatient to read the words inside. There were so many. Every page was covered from top to bottom and edge to edge with a solemn, flowing black script. The pages were yellowed and furred at thecorners, some torn a little in places. Marcel read the first page, but by the second his eyes were growing tired. He began skimming the text quickly, hoping to pick out his name. But even this took an age. Four, five, six pages. He couldn’t take them in any faster. “This is hopeless,” he moaned. “It would take me a year to read every word in this book.”
He was hardly ready to give up, though. “Old Belch told me how it works. A little bit, anyway,” he muttered. He had seen Lord Alwyn use it too, at
“The kitchen,” Bea replied. They reached the bottom of the stairs and she pushed the kitchen door gently ajar. As soon as they entered, she lit the candle Mrs Timmins kept on the table and led him into the pantry, a snug little alcove separate from the room itself.
“What’s going on?”
“I have something for you,” she told him at last.
“At this time of night!” He watched as she pushed aside some large earthenware jars. Even then he had to wait while she carefully drew back a folded tablecloth. But when finally he saw what lay revealed, he could barely breathe. “The Book of Lies!”
He reached in and took it down from the shelf, carrying it carefully to the kitchen table, where he stroked the cracked and flaking red leather of its cover. “What was it doing there, in the pantry?”
Bea sent him an exasperated glance. “I hid it there,” she said, in a tone that hinted he should have guessed that much for himself.
Marcel didn’t notice. He was still trying to grasp the fact that the Book was right here in front of him. “But how did you get hold of it?”
“I took it from the tower, of course.”
“You can’t have! The door is sealed by magic.”
“I told you, there’s another way up there.”
Another way. What was she talking about? Then it came to him. “The hidden tunnel! You mean you…”
“This morning, when you and Fergus were racing into the village, I sneaked away from my chores and saw Lord Alwyn watching you from the window.”
“You guessed he would send Termagant down through that passage to get me, didn’t you?”
Bea was excited now. She could barely manage to keep her voice down. “I hid myself near the bushes and saw where she came out. The opening, Marcel – I found it at last! Now I can go up there any time I like.”
Marcel stared at her. “Any time you like! Are you mad?”
“No, it’s all right. Tonight, I just had to wait until I heardthat noise in the wall and then I knew Termagant had gone out hunting. It’s so narrow; no wonder Termagant makes such a noise when she squeezes through it. And even in daylight it’s impossible to see.”
“But what about Lord Alwyn? I suppose he said, ‘Hello, come on in, Bea. Let me hold the candle for you.’”
Bea made a face. “Even wizards sleep at night, you know – and besides, even if he had been awake, he wouldn’t have seen me ,” she said confidently. She folded her arms to show she was growing tired of his lack of faith in her.
Marcel made himself calm down. If he had sounded a little harsh, it was only because he was worried about her. Terrified, really. This was the second time she had taken a dreadful risk to help him. “I’m sorry I questioned you,” he said softly, and to show it he touched her gently on the arm. “You went up there just to get this book for me. I can’t believe it. Bea, that’s braver than anything I did today.”
Bea blushed brightly, not easy for a girl who usually faded into the shadows. “Now we can work out whether your real life is written inside. Quickly, see what you can find,” she urged him. “Termagant won’t stay out all night, and I’ll have to return it before she comes back.”
Marcel opened the cover and leaned forward, impatient to read the words inside. There were so many. Every page was covered from top to bottom and edge to edge with a solemn, flowing black script. The pages were yellowed and furred at thecorners, some torn a little in places. Marcel read the first page, but by the second his eyes were growing tired. He began skimming the text quickly, hoping to pick out his name. But even this took an age. Four, five, six pages. He couldn’t take them in any faster. “This is hopeless,” he moaned. “It would take me a year to read every word in this book.”
He was hardly ready to give up, though. “Old Belch told me how it works. A little bit, anyway,” he muttered. He had seen Lord Alwyn use it too, at
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