"You always invite Billy home." Manfred put
his
115
hands on the table and bent forward. "So
what went wrong?"
"I nothing." Charlie was thoroughly con-
fused. "I just forgot."
"You FORGOT?"
Was it a crime, forgetting to ask a friend
home? Now Charlie was suspicious.
"You won't forget next time, will you,
Charlie?" Manfred's eyes glinted. The coal-
black irises were quartered with flicks of
blazing light.
Charlie felt an intense pain in the center of
his forehead. Why is Manfred doing this? he
wondered. He doesn't have to hypnotize me.
I would have asked Billy home next week-
end, anyway. Having to resist Manfred's
gaze made Charlie angry. It had happened
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before and Charlie had discovered that he
could block the hypnotist. He had to look
beyond the black glare and into the mind of
Manfred Bloor.
Images swam before Charlie's eyes: a knight
in a green cloak; a stone troll; and, last of all,
far, far out on a furious gray sea, the sail of a
tiny boat.
116
"No!" cried Charlie. The pain in his head in-

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Dorcas, Joshua, and the twins took their
usual places opposite Charlie. A few mo-
ments later, Emma, Lysander, and Gabriel
arrived and sat beside one another, beyond
Tancred. Billy rushed in and headed straight
for the empty place on Charlie's right. The
small boy seemed nervous and even more
disorganized than usual. Books kept falling
out of his grasp, his glasses slipped off his
nose, and reaching for them, his chair tipped
sideways and he fell onto the floor.
Charlie had no doubt that the Branko twins
were responsible. They often tormented Billy
with their kinetic powers. He was an easy
victim. Dorcas and Joshua began to snicker.
118
"Pathetic!" Lysander glared at the twins. "Is
that how you get your kicks? Tormenting
people who can't defend themselves? Try it
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on me, Idith. Come on, Inez, knock MY chair
over."
The twins lowered their eyes and opened
their books. The ghostly African warriors
that Lysander could call up were not
something that they wanted to contest.
Dagbert Endless came in late. He sat alone,
halfway between each group. "Where's the
talents master?" he asked.

"Of course I do," said Billy.
"That's settled, then."
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Fidelio had drifted out of his musical dream
and slumbered peacefully. Billy lay quiet and
still, at last, and Charlie should have found it
easy to sleep. But another problem had
presented itself.
Why was Manfred so eager for Billy to visit
Charlie's home? Did it have something to do
with the painting of Badlock? Charlie real-
ized he had told Billy nothing about the
painting. Billy's concern for his rat had put it
out of Charlie's mind.
The soft light of his white moth flickered
above Charlie, and he was glad she had fol-
lowed him to school. As he watched Claer-
wen loop and swing through the darkness, he
began to feel drowsy, but as he finally fell
asleep, a voice in his head seemed to be
warning him: Don't let Billy go into Badlock.
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From a bed at the end of Charlie's row, Dag-
bert Endless followed the white moth's dance
across the
121
ceiling. He put his hand under his pillow and
brought out a small golden fish and five tiny
golden crabs. Clutching them in his fist, he
murmured, "Sea gold," and a smile crept into

Bone's moth had given him an idea. Manfred
Bloor wanted that white moth; without her
Charlie Bone couldn't travel. But if Dagbert
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caught the moth, he would be helping him-
self as well. Tancred would surely return the
charm in exchange for Charlie's moth. Dor-
cas Loom will make me a net. She's clever
with her fingers. We'll soon see who's the
strongest, thought Dagbert.
The following day Charlie found an oppor-
tunity to tell Billy about Runner Bean.
He watched Billy wander up to the top of the
field and began to follow him. Billy often
wandered up to the ruined castle in the
woods. He felt safe behind the massive red
stone walls, with the open sky for a roof and
the comforting sense that the Red King and
his queen might still be close.
123
Charlie found Billy sitting on a stone seat
between two of the five arches that led deep-
er into the castle. The white-haired boy was
staring at a huge flagstone that was cracked
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down the center and bordered with fresh
earth. When Charlie approached, Billy said,
"That is where Mrs. Tilpin found the mirror,
isn't it?"
Charlie looked at the stone. "Yes. Where the

"That's alright, then. But you'd better not go
near that painting again, Charlie."
"It's not all right," said Charlie. "I couldn't
get Runner Bean out. He's stuck in that aw-
ful place, and none of us knows how to "
"Can you see him?" asked Billy.
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"Yes. It's horrible. He's howling."
"Maybe I can, kind of, connect with him,"
Billy suggested.
125
Charlie hesitated. "It might be dangerous for
you, Billy."
Billy was silent for a while. He swung his legs
and looked through the great arch to where
distant figures could be seen running over
the field. "Benjamin must be upset," he said.
"He is," Charlie admitted. "I don't think he'll
talk to me until I've rescued his dog."
Billy looked thoughtful. "I can still come
home with you, Charlie, can't I? Even if I
don't look at the painting?"
"Of course you can."
As they left the ruins, Charlie's moth
fluttered out of his pocket and settled on his
shoulder.
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"We'll be OK if your moth's with us," Billy
said with a grin.
Charlie didn't reply. Claerwen had saved him

127
Finding Cook was not as difficult as Charlie
had imagined. She was sitting at one of the
tables in the blue cafeteria, having a cup of
tea with a white-haired, robust-looking man:
Dr. Saltweather.
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"A bit early for lunch, aren't we, Charlie
Bone?" Dr. Saltweather remarked.
"Shouldn't you still be in class?"
"Sehor Alvaro let me go; I hadn't practiced
enough," Charlie confessed.
Dr. Saltweather sighed. He was head of mu-
sic and felt responsible for Charlie's lack of
progress. Charlie's father was the cathedral
organist and a brilliant musician, but Charlie
seemed to have inherited none of his father's
talent. Dr. Saltweather was aware of
Charlie's extraordinary endowment,
however, and had a certain amount of sym-
pathy for the boy.
"I wanted to ask Cook about Mr. Onimous,"
said Charlie.
"Mr. Onimous?" Cook's rosy face took on an
anxious look. "He's not too well, Charlie.
He's in the hospital.
128
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Concussion. Poor Mrs. Onimous is beside
herself."

ing up on the weekend and hatching plots."
"We don't hatch plots," Charlie said
indignantly.
"No? Think about it, Charlie. Oh, I know
your plots are all for the best reasons, but
they don't like it."
"But the Pets' Cafe is a good place, Cook. It's
a happy place. Where else can pets meet and
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enjoy great food? It's not just useful to us;
hundreds of people love it."
"You don't have to tell me, Charlie." Cook lif-
ted the lid from a pan of fish stew on the
counter and sniffed. "I'd better check the kit-
chen and see what my lunch ladies are up
to."
Charlie stood by the counter, patiently wait-
ing for someone to come and ladle out the
stew. Other music students began to arrive
and by the time
130
one of the lunch ladies turned up, a long line
had formed behind Charlie.
Once he had been served, Charlie went to his
favorite table in the corner of the cafeteria.
Before long, he was joined by Gabriel, Billy,
and Fidelio. The stew was soon gone, and as
they lined up for their dessert, Fidelio re-
marked that Dagbert Endless was missing.
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Dagbert didn't go straight to the dormitory,
like the others. He slipped down the main
staircase and crossed the hall.
Dr. Saltweather chose that moment to leave
the staff room. "Where do you think you're
going, Dagbert Endless?" he demanded.
132
"I've got to show the talents master some
work," Dagbert said casually.
"Be quick about it, then," said Dr. Saltweath-
er. "It'll be lights-out in fifteen minutes."
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"Yes, sir." Dagbert ran down the passage to
his classroom. He went to a desk at the back
of the room and opened the lid. Inside the
desk lay something resembling a fine white
handkerchief. Dorcas had done her work
well. On Dagbert's instructions, she had gone
to the sewing room during lunch and had
quickly woven a nice little net. It was made
of the finest muslin and fixed to a long bam-
boo cane, helpfully provided by Weedon.
Just to make sure the net would do what
Dagbert intended, Dorcas had dipped the
muslin in the juice of a rare herb: still-wort.
She had never used the herb before and was
interested to see if it would work.
It had worked very well. The moth inside the
net lay so still it appeared to be dead.
"Did you catch it?" Dorcas peered around the

Dagbert covered the jar with the muslin and
carried it to the door. Dorcas rushed to open
it for Dagbert, who sailed through with a
muttered "Thanks" and continued across the
hall. Dorcas flew ahead of him and opened
the small, ancient door that led to the west
wing.
"You will tell him, won't you?" begged Dor-
cas again,
"I said I would," Dagbert replied, stepping
into the dark passage behind the door. "Bet-
ter get to bed, Dorc, or Matron'll come down
on you."
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"And Manfred will tell Fairy Tilpin about me,
won't he?" Dorcas went on. "She'll be so
pleased."
"YES!" Dagbert gave the door a backward
kick and it slammed in Dorcas's face.
Students seldom went to the west wing. It
was home to the Bloor family, and they
didn't like staff or children intruding. At the
far end of the hall, a dim light could be seen
in the room at the base of the music tower.
Dagbert made his way toward the light.
135
The walls on either side of him gave off the
damp, earthy smell of old brick, and moss
grew in the cracked slate floor.
Halfway down the passage, a bookcase stood