

Copyright © 2012 Alison DeLuca

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976,  
no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in  
any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without  
the prior written permission of the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products  
of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed  
as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons,  
living or deceased, is entirely coincidental.

Published by Myrddin Publishing

Credits  
Cover design and layout: Lisa Daly  
Editor: Pamela Brennan  
Illustrations: Ross Kitson
CROWN PHOENIX:  
Night Watchman Express

by Alison DeLuca
Other books by Alison DeLuca

Crown Phoenix: Night Watchman Express

Crown Phoenix: The Devil's Kitchen

Crown Phoenix: Lamplighter's Special  
Crown Phoenix: The South Sea Bubble

A Magic Shadow-Show

Also by the author:

Christmas O'Clock
For Joe and Genna
Table of Contents

Part One – The Night Watchman Express

1. The Intruders' Arrival

2. Three Dreams

3. What the Boys Discovered

4. A Very Unpleasant Scene

5. A Difficult Decision

6. The Search for a Suitable Governess

7. Several Encounters

8. Miriam's First Lesson

9. Miriam, Simon, and Neil

10. The Window Seat

11. The Impossible Island

12. What Was in the Closet?

13. Virgil's New Partner

14. Mr. Cantwell Acts in a Suspicious Manner

15. What Miriam Found in the Study

16. Barbara

17. Secret Plots

18. Mana's Wooden Comb

19. The Night Watchman Express

Epilogue - What Happened to Nelly

Part Two – Big Star Island

1. The Storm

2. Riki

3. The Family

4. A Tour Around the Island

5. The Mountains

6. The Sad Case of the Cook's Daughter

7. The Luxurious Prison

8. What Happened that Night

9. The Argument

10. The Hanging Cage

11. Convincing Weko

12. The Rescue

13. Hiding the Prisoner

14. The Temple

15. The Arrest

16. The Festival

17. More Plans

Part Three - CROWN PHOENIX: THE Devil's Kitchen  
(bonus CHAPTERS)

1. On the Night Watchman Express

2. In the Devil's Kitchen

3. A Strange Place

# Part One: The Night Watchman Express

## Chapter 1: The Intruders' Arrival

MIRIAM LOOKED UP from her book. Furnace, the butler, was in the middle of a speech about her guardians. "...and their room must be the largest bedchamber in the house, and it must face due South. They said that was very important."

"The largest room?" That was Mrs. Williams speaking. Something serious was going on if she had left her kitchen. "That could only mean..."

"The master's room. I'm aware of that, Mrs. Williams," Furnace replied calmly.

Miriam closed the heavy book. It was a volume of Arabic tales. She hadn't been allowed to read it before her father died; Miss Osbourne, her last governess, had forbidden the book because of its 'objectionable elements'. She rested her chin on one fist and pushed back a tangle of black hair out of her eyes with the other.

"The idea!" Mrs. Williams said. "To waltz in here, without a by-your-leave, and the master not dead but three months, and to demand his own room for their private use. It makes me that angry, Mr. Furnace. And to think of that poor child!"

Miriam scowled. 'That poor child' was herself, of course. She remembered her father dimly as a dark presence behind his desk, holding a fountain pen and waving it about as he gave orders for this office to be contacted or those letters to be sent. He had worked hard, when he was alive, and built up his business to be a large, profitable company.

Once he had died, several months ago, it hadn't affected Miriam's life very much. She hardly ever saw her father before in any case. And now she could read whatever books she found on the shelves.

Mr. and Mrs. Marchpane were the people Furnace was talking about. Miriam had an idea that Mr. Marchpane had been Father's partner or something like that. Everything that Father owned - the house, his business - would be held in trust by the Marchpane people. She wasn't sure what 'in trust' meant, but she had heard Mr. Fortescue, Father's lawyer, say it after Father had died.

And now, she supposed, she herself would be held in trust.

"Well, when do the Marchpane people arrive?" Mrs. Williams asked.

"Their letter said to expect them any time after eight this evening."

"That means a good dinner wasted, like as not." There was a loud snort from the cook. "The master's own room! Due South! Such nonsense!"

"That's none of our business, Mrs. Williams," Furnace replied. "Our task is not to ask questions, but to see that orders are carried out, as usual."

Miriam waited, but there was no further conversation. She heard Mrs. Williams' shoes clack on the floor as she retreated back to the kitchen, and after a moment, it was followed by Furnace's measured tread.

The Marrrrrch-panes, she said to herself, stretching out the name with distaste. She opened her book to the place where she had stopped reading, but she had lost interest in flying horses and Arabic princesses. She scowled and slapped it shut. It was a large, heavy book, so it made a nice, loud thwack.

Miriam wandered over to one window and sat on the ledge. She breathed on the glass and wrote her name on the glass. There was only enough space for MIRIAM PEARS. She wiped the window with her sleeve, smearing the glass and her shirt in the process.

It was dark outside, and dark clouds huddled over the moon. The Marchpanes. Why did they have to come here? She certainly didn't want them. Mr. Marchpane had been Father's partner, so now he must be the new owner of Pearsons', her father's company.

Along with the clouds, the wind increased. The tops of the hedges that grew over the garden walls were flattened by its violence, and Miriam was certain that if she went down the path to the sea, the waves would have white caps. Of course, it was far too late to attempt such a thing, and in case, she was never allowed to go down to the sand. Slowly, she breathed on the windowpane again and wrote again: I AM PEARSON.

"Miss Miriam!" Nelly, the maid, came into the room and pointed at the window. "Look at that muck on your dress and the doings. I'll have to wash those windows again, now."

Miriam shrugged and turned back to the window. Splatters of rain hit the panes of glass, and Miriam could see her face reflected there, like a weeping watercolor painting.

"Go on and ignore me," Nelly continued. "But it's high time for you to have your supper and get to bed."

"Not hungry," Miriam replied.

"And how did I know that you were going to say just that?" Nelly spoke with a broad country accent, and she was well used to handling what she called "young ones." While she talked, she guided Miriam off the seat and over to the door with one firm hand on the girl's sleeve. "Now, off to the room with you. Your supper is waiting."

Miriam suddenly stopped and gripped the doorknob. "No. I don't want to go to bed. I won't!"

"Ah, sure, that's enough of that," Nelly said. "I'll not hear any of your lip this night. I've lit a fine fire in the grate upstairs, so there's no reason to kick up a fuss. Many a child would be happy for a warm bed and supper to eat, Miss Miriam, so away with you."

Miriam considered whether to scream and throw things, as she sometimes did. However, Nelly had a bony hand and was not afraid to use it. Miriam shrugged again and turned to the stairs.

She climbed up to her room as slowly as she dared, watched by Nelly with her fists on her hips. When Miriam reached the top landing, she turned back, thrust her tongue out as far as she could, crossed her eyes, and banged her door closed behind her. The maid shook her head, frowned, and slammed the sitting room door shut in return.

Upstairs, Miriam found her nightgown was laid out on a chair in front of the fire. Miss Osbourne would have helped her get undressed, but now she had to do it by herself. Maybe I'll just stay in my clothes, she thought. Yes, that might help her stay awake. And she wouldn't eat. Hunger would help too.

She took the tray of food – a leg of chicken and some tapioca pudding - and put it in the closet. As she closed the door, she reasoned that no one would ask about it until the morning, and she wouldn't be tempted to try a bite. There was a glass of milk by the tray; she considered for a moment and poured it into the tin chamber pot under the bed.

There, that would take care of that. She locked her door so no one could come in and rattled the door to make certain it was shut tight.

There was a large trunk at the foot of the bed that she intended to explore. Nervously, she looked around the room again. Miriam unlocked the trunk with a large key, reached inside, and pulled something out.

She grunted with effort. It was a heavy, strange-looking machine, made of brass. Its base upheld a curved frame that supported a sheet of white paper; the frame itself was like a cylinder that had been cut in half lengthwise.

The most distinctive feature of the machine, however, was a 'ball' that rested over the curved piece of paper. Up from the ball sprang small keys, also made of brass, which had the letters of the alphabet printed on them. On the side facing away from the typist, there were two words written in swirling, ornate letters: CROWN PHOENIX.

Miriam plopped the machine on the floor. She poked at one of the keys, and the corresponding letter appeared on the paper held fast by the curved cylinder. She peered at the letter (it was an S, printed in brownish ink) and smiled with satisfaction. Her father's "Writing Ball," which she had purloined from his study right after his death, had always fascinated her. Now it was all hers.

She poked at a few more letters, and settled into a cramped position on the floor in front of the machine. With a scowl concentration, she tapped the keys. Slowly, she filled the white page with words.

As the day ended, the rain began in earnest and blew nearly sideways from the wind. Downstairs, there was a loud rap on the front door. Furnace opened it to reveal four people at the top of the marble steps.

A thin woman made up of bony elbows and sharp features pushed her way into the house, followed by a man with a narrow mustache carefully carrying a leather bag with handles. "Mr. and Mrs. Marchpane," Furnace said.

Two boys followed the man and the woman into the house. They looked as if they were about the same age. One was rather tall with blond hair that curled on his neck and an athlete's body. The other was slender and dark, and he wore wire-rimmed eyeglasses.

"Don't keep us waiting in the hall, numbskull!" the woman snapped at Furnace. She tugged at her husband's arm. "Come in, Virgil, Simon; why are you both just standing there?" She flicked her gaze over the dark-haired youth but did not address him. "My son, Simon." She indicated the first boy with the blond hair. "You might as well know who your new masters will be," she added.

"And this is my friend, Neil." Simon's voice rose in volume.

The darker boy flushed, and he edged towards one of the shadows cast by the candles in the wall sconces.

Mrs. Marchpane clicked her tongue with annoyance at Simon's determined introduction. "Show us the drawing room right away, fool!" She looked around the hall and pinched her lips together.

Furnace bowed again. "Certainly," he said. "This way, Sir, Madam. Young gentlemen, if you will follow me."

The entrance led to a sitting room that was lit by a cheerful fire. Long curtains covered the many windows on the far walls, flanked by pedestals that held potpourri bowls and vases filled with sea grass. Comfortable cushions lined a long settee. Although Miriam's father hadn't believed in giving his daughter many gifts, his one large expenditure had been his huge house by the sea and its furnishings.

A tray lined with a white cloth rested on a low table in front of the sofa. The firelight winked off the amber liquid in the glass decanters on the tray, as well as a steaming coffee urn and tiered plates of cakes and biscuits.

Virgil entered the room and a pleased smile appeared on his face. He rubbed his hands together and approached the tray. "Oh, I say! That looks quite the thing, doesn't it, Theodosia? Eh?" He put down the bag, sat on the low couch, and picked up a wineglass and a decanter. His nose wrinkled, and he sniffed the liquid inside before he poured himself a large glass.

The two boys' eyes brightened at the sight of the food, and Simon sat as close as possible to the tray. He picked up a plate and poised a hand over the plate of sandwiches. Neil, however, remained on his feet.

"Shall I have your bag sent upstairs with your other luggage, sir?" Furnace asked.

Mr. Marchpane picked up the bag again. "Don't touch that!" he said in a loud voice. "That is, I'll hold onto it myself for the moment."

"It's no trouble, sir," Furnace replied with an inquiring lift of one eyebrow.

"Yes, yes," the man spluttered, "but – have some important papers inside. Very important indeed."

"Virgil!" Theodosia said. "Get hold of yourself." She turned and looked at Furnace up and down. "You heard him, idiot – leave the bag alone."

Furnace bowed. "Certainly, madam."

Ignoring this, Theodosia turned from her husband and looked at Furnace. "Where is the girl?" she asked.

"Asleep."

"Asleep! Wasn't she made aware that we were coming? She should have been made to wait up for us."

"She did wait, but your carriage was somewhat delayed." He turned as if to go.

"Wait! I didn't dismiss you!"

Furnace turned back. "Was there anything else, madam?"

Theodosia frowned, thought for a moment, and said, "No, nothing else. You may go." Somewhat unnerved, she sat beside her husband. He shoveled fingers of cake and sandwich into his mouth. In annoyance, she watched Furnace bow, step back, and close the door behind him.

"Virgil," she said, "I simply cannot put up with such impertinence from servants. It seems as if I shall have to train the staff to my own liking."

"I leave it all in your very capable hands, my dear." He refilled his glass and sat on the settee where Miriam had been hiding earlier with a contented sigh. "I thought the funeral and the legal arrangements would go on forever, but Fortescue came through as usual. Good man, Fortescue. Poor old Pearson – wonder what he would say if he were here tonight."

"As he is dead, I presume he would say nothing at all." Her eyes darted over the plate of cakes, in the same manner as she had eyed the hallway. She stretched out one long arm and selected a biscuit. "I really wanted to see the child tonight so we could get things straight on how life will go on from this time forward. I'll have her know her position before very little time goes by, believe me, Mr. Marchpane."

"Oh, I'm certain of that, my dear." He drained his glass, poured himself another large drink, and winked at her. "And while you occupy yourself with the matters of the household, it's back to business for Virgil, hey? Been on holiday long enough with Pearson's funeral; time to remind everyone that we have a company to run and money to make. Eh?"

She turned to him. "Not now, Virgil! Hold your tongue." She turned to her son. "Are you finished, Simon? Isn't it time for bed, dear boy?"

With his mouth full, Simon said, "Neil hasn't had anything to eat yet. And I could do with two more plates of these sandwiches. And I'm not ten years old."

His mother gave a thin little smile. "Dear boy, why don't you take some upstairs, and you and – your friend – can eat there." She turned to the table beside her and rang the bell on it.

Neil cleared his throat. He shifted his feet and turned red.

The door opened, and Furnace appeared. "Show these boys to their rooms," Mrs. Marchpane commanded, "and see that some more refreshment is brought to Simon's room as well."

"And Neil's room!" Simon scowled. "Honestly, Mother –"

Furnace motioned. "If I might take the liberty, madam; the two boys will share a room."

"What?" Her eyebrows twitched.

"Some of the upstairs rooms were closed off, due to the late masters' orders," Furnace added.

She flitted a hand at him. "Yes, yes, I remember now. Well, where does the girl sleep?"

Furnace's face remained as impassive as a stone. "Miss Miriam is in her own bedchamber, down the hall from her father's room."

"Ridiculous," Mrs. Marchpane said. "Rooms on the main floor for a young girl!"

"Shh, Theodosia, my dear!" her husband whispered.

She continued in her loud voice as if he hadn't spoken. "I'll have her moved upstairs to the attics," she said. "Her present bedroom will be perfect for Simon."

## Chapter 2: Three Dreams

MIRIAM DID NOT hear the Marchpanes' arrival. She tried to keep awake, but when she looked at the clock, the numbers blurred and swam on the white face.

I'll close my eyes for just a moment, she reasoned. Without knowing it, she slumped forward and rested her head on her knees. Her mouth opened, and she snored suddenly.

Beside her, in its holder, the candle guttered and went out. An hour or so went by. Footsteps went past her door – Simon and Neil had obeyed the order to go their temporary room.

Much later, other sets of footsteps came up the stairs. They paused by Miriam's door before they went on. The Marchpanes, evidently, had decided to go to bed.

Downstairs, the large grandfather clock whirred, followed by twelve chimes. Midnight. Outside, there was a sound of rushing wind, followed by a long, drawn-out whistle from a passing train.

By this time, Simon and Neil had finished the sandwiches and were asleep. Miriam lay on the floor, not realizing that she would have to move to another bedroom soon. The boys were under silk quilts in a spare bedroom down the hall, but at the sound of the train, all three of them began to dream.

Miriam turned her head on her arm. She was in front of a pair of dark doors that were scraped and scarred with – what? Was it the marks of human nails?

The doors opened slowly. In the darkness behind it, there was a tall, forbidding woman whose face was hidden in shadows. On the other side of the door, a man stood. He was just as tall and forbidding as the woman.

The only thing in that terrifying place that gave her any comfort was the fooling of someone's arm under her hand. He put his hand on top of hers, and she curled her cold fingers around his warm thumb.

You've got to believe me, she said to them, with the silent, rough desperation of dreams. I am not guilty! I should not be here! The woman merely stared back at her and pointed at the iron door, and somehow Miriam knew that she had to go in there, into the prison chamber, which was underground, and it would be more terrible than anything she had ever experienced.

No, she said, shaking her head, No!

The woman stared back, and raised something to her mouth. A long whistle began, rising like a scream, getting louder and louder.

Miriam tried to shout for Mrs. Williams, or for Furnace, or for someone, but no sound emerged. She drew in a deep breath and tried again. Her lungs cracked with the effort, but she was powerless against the lights and the whistle; she could not make herself be heard.

On the floor, Miriam shifted and murmured. In her sleep, she reached out one hand as if she searched for something or someone that was no longer there.

In the boys' room, Neil was also lost in a nightmare. He stood on a long stretch of sand. Above him, the sky was black. When he looked down, his feet were crusted with soft sand. Beside him, a huge cliff stretched so far up that when Neil looked for the top, he felt dizzy.

He noticed a path that led around the cliff. It was white with more sand and powdered rock, and he knew he had to climb it.

As he climbed, the dust left marks on his clothes. He became aware that someone followed him, but he didn't want to turn around to see who – or what – it was.

The path climbed up the cliff and led into a tunnel that burrowed right through the rock. Neil entered the hole and walked forward. He didn't pause to see if his follower would enter as well.

The tunnel stopped at the other side of the cliff. It opened onto a ledge that stuck out over a dizzying height. Neil could faintly hear the waves below, but the night was so profoundly dark he could not see anything.

He heard another sound, a slight cry. He went to the edge of the ledge at the tunnel's end, and tried to shout, "Is anyone there?"

No response. There was just another cry, as if for help. It seemed to come from below, but not from the beach... Neil lay down on the ledge, and looked over the side.

He saw a cage that hung from the bottom of the ledge. A huge chain was driven right into the rock. The cage swung slightly as he watched it, and he had to clutch the rock to keep his balance.

It swung again, farther this time, and as he watched in horror, he realized it was not empty. A woman was in the cage, and she looked up at him. She was a dark shape who screamed his name.

"Help me!" she shouted. "You've got to rescue me!"

The cage hung from the rock on a huge chain from the stone ledge. Neil looked down helplessly, and his head swam from the huge height.

"Help me!" she screamed again. He heard urgency and terror in her voice.

He shook his head in utter frustration. He didn't know how to even begin to save her, but somehow he did realize one thing. If he did not, he and his friends were utterly lost.

Simon also dreamed. Usually he was so tired from riding and playing tennis that he slept soundly all night, and barely stirred.

But now, he saw that he was in a small room, lit with only one small lamp. He tried the door, but it was closed. He rattled the handle, but nothing budged. It was locked.

As he shook the door, the bolt on the outside shot back. For some reason that he couldn't name, Simon fell back on the floor and scooted backwards towards the hard bed in one corner. His heart thudded as the door opened.

A lady came in. She carried a tray with a bottle and two glasses on it. The lady put it down on the table with the lamp and turned to face Simon. Since she stood in front of the light, he couldn't see her face, but he knew that she was beautiful. Her silhouetted waist was tiny, and her hair shone like copper in the glow of the lamp.

He smiled when he realized how lovely she was and was about to say something to charm her, or to get her to move into the light so that he could see the beauty of her face, when the music started. Somewhere outside the door a loud concerto played. It grew even more deafening until Simon thought that his eardrums would crack.

He pressed his hands over his ears and shouted, 'Turn it off! Please!" The music was so loud that he could not hear his own voice.

The girl, however, did not move. She stood there and watched, faceless and nameless in her own shadow.

That is what the three children in the house dreamed, that first night, as the Night Watchman Express screamed by the house.

## CHAPTER 3: What The Boys Discovered

ON THEIR FIRST day in the large house, Simon woke up early. He got out of bed and went to the window, which looked out over the side gardens. A light rain fell in a rather half-hearted way.

Neil was still asleep in the smaller camp bed that had been brought in by George the night before. A grin spread over Simon's face. He picked up his own pillow and threw it at Neil's face.

"What? What happened? What?!" Neil sat up in bed, looking wildly around the room.

Simon fell on the larger bed where he had slept the night before, overcome with his own wit. "It was me, you idiot!" he gasped. "You should have seen –" Words failed him, and he doubled over again.

Neil got out of bed, trying to look as dignified as one possibly can in pyjamas. "Oh, very funny – if you are six years old," he said.

"Come on, twit." Simon threw his other pillow. "Let's get dressed and explore the house. And find some food." He rummaged through a drawer and found a shirt.

Neil looked around. "Where are my clothes? I left them here last night –"

"Sent down to the wash, most likely." Simon pulled a jumper over his head.

"Oh." Neil tried not to show his dismay. His luggage included two other shirts and some underpants, and that was it.

Simon threw some clothes at him. "Here you are, idiot. I've got loads."

Neil frowned. "Well, I can't just take your stuff - "

Simon threatened him with another pillow. "Come on, Neil! I'd like to see the house before the parents get up and start ordering us about."

Neil gave up and struggled into Simon's things. "Your parents, and that girl," he said, his hair going every which way as he pulled a shirt over his head.

"What girl?" Simon demanded, trying to tame his own hair at the mirror.

"You know – that daughter. Of the bloke who used to live here – Pearson, or Grayson, or whatever his name was. Pearson, I think."

"Oh, her." Simon tossed the brush to one side. "She's just a kid; we won't have to worry about her. She'll try to tag along with us, maybe, but once we sit on her a bit she'll give that up and we can do whatever we like. Look, I think the sea is just down the path at the back of the garden. Let's grab some food and explore."

The house was a large one, built in the shape of a squared-off C. The long side of the house itself faced the drive and the front lawn, and the two side wings had been added by Mr. Pearson after buying the property years before, once his company had become such a success. They jutted out into the back garden and enclosed various stone courtyards adjoined by stairs and walkways to the back of the house.

Simon and Neil, clutching a napkin filled with buns and apples, opened a glass door and crashed onto one of the courtyards. A statue of a wilting female regarded them with a baleful stare, which they ignored.

"I hear the waves," Simon announced. "Come on, let's try this way. See that path over there? Think that leads to the woods? Let's see if it continues down to the sea."

"Must do." Neil picked his way past various urns and pots of well-tended flowers and bushes. "I think you're right – the sound of the waves is in the direction. I can smell the salt in the air, too." He lifted his head and sniffed.

They ran across the back lawns and arrived at the wooded portion of the house. "Come on!" Simon plunged into the woods without hesitation.

Neil followed more slowly, pausing to note where they were heading from time to time. He saw that the tree trunks were large, much larger than usual for land near salt water. "Look at that!" He pointed to one especially huge fir.

"What about it? Do hurry up. I'm hungry."

They followed the path down to where it emerged from the woods. The sea lay in front of them and sparkled in the early morning sun.

"Fantastic!" Simon whooped. "Come on, there's a way down over here!"

They ran over to a break in the scrubby hedge on the cliff. A series of huge, smooth stones made a steep staircase that led down to the sand below. Iron stakes had been inserted into every other stair, and a rope ran through holes on top of the stakes. Neil thought it looked like giant's cotton thread running through several huge needles.

Simon plunged down the steps in breakneck fashion, with Neil following more slowly behind. A stiff wind blew in their faces, but the sun promised a bright, warm day. The waves were retreating, leaving a long stretch of sand that lay wrinkled from the water. Simon bounded off the steps onto the sand, and raced over to one of the many rock pools filled from the recent high tide.

"Gosh, come over here!" Simon yelled. Neil climbed up beside his friend and peered into the water at a pair of crabs that threatened each other. "Look at those devils," Simon continued. "Wish we had brought some nets. Wonder if that girl has any up at the house? Well, if she doesn't, I'll tell Mother to tell the maid or someone to buy us some."

"She'll probably have a net or two," Neil said. He leaned forward. A pink, frilled anemone in the clear, cold water promptly folded its miniature tentacles into itself. "I've never seen anything like that before, and my family lives by the docks. We used to explore rock pools all the time, but that fellow is new to me. And, just look." He pushed some seaweed to one side to reveal a small creature with bright yellow and black stripes. "Does that crab look familiar?"

"Hmm. No," Simon replied. Bored of watching the miniature underwater world in the tide pool, he jumped onto the sand and said, "Let's see how far we can follow the cliff around the bend, over there."

"Right." Neil jumped onto the sand and followed Simon towards the towering cliffs. They walked around some more piles of rocks. Most of them were filled with water and brightly colored creatures like the first pool the boys had explored.

They crunched over the sand, stopping to pick up a few flat stones for skipping on the waves. Both boys removed their shoes, and Neil swung his in one hand as he breathed the salt air.

"Nice." Simon sniffed beside him.

"Yes, I always miss that smell when I am at school," Neil said.

"Thank goodness we're on summer break. Are you going to stay here the entire time, or will you return to the docks? And your family?"

"We talked about that already." Neil punched Simon's shoulder. "I have to get back in a few weeks; I can't just sponge off your parents all summer."

"Why not? They're sponging off that Pearson fellow," Simon said.

"Still, I have to go and see my sisters, and my mum and dad," Neil said.

"I'm not going to let up on you, you know. I think you should stay the whole time."

"But I honestly can't..."

Simon lost interest in the conversation. He turned his back on Neil in mid-sentence and wandered closer to the cliff. He found a bit of driftwood and banged it against the taller rocks edging the sands, trying to break it in half. If he could split it lengthwise, it would make two good swords, he thought, and they could have a duel.

He stopped and leaned closer to the cliff wall. "Well, that's funny," he said. "Look at that!"

Neil stumbled on a sharp shell, cursed, and joined Simon by the sheer stone. "What is it?" he asked.

"Look!" Simon pointed to the cliff face. "What are those things?"

'Those things' were a series of flat, silver circles set into the rock in the shape of a larger circle, perfectly spaced apart. There were twelve of them, and they were level with the cliff. Neil ran his hand over one and could not distinguish where they ended and the rock began.

"Never seen anything like it," he concluded at last. "Look – the stone itself is completely smooth and flat. It's as if someone planed down the cliff itself and set those metal discs into the rock."

"But who?" Simon jabbed at the circles with one finger. Contrary to his expectations, no secret door slid open to expose a secret passageway lined with overflowing treasure chests and grinning skeletons.

"That won't do anything." Neil pushed Simon away. "They're not buttons, or levers, or anything like that."

"How do you know?" Simon demanded.

"They aren't meant to move at all – see? A button would have some kind of rim or space to move in."

"Well, what are they for, since you're so clever?"

"No idea." Neil probed the circles again and shook his head.

Simon was bored with the puzzle. "Come on, professor, let's go and find someplace to eat our grub. Afterwards we'll go back up and explore the house."

"Wait a bit." Neil pointed at a flat stone in front of the mysterious circle. "That bit of rock is a different color from the others near the cliff – see? It looks as if it was moved there, on purpose."

"Really?" Simon forgot his hunger. Without hesitation, he jumped onto the rock. Its position put him right in front of the circle; its diameter was taller than his head by about a foot. Simon spread his arms out to the sides and stared stiffly ahead, waiting for something to happen.

Neil began to laugh. "You look just like that Da Vinci drawing," he said.

"Oh, you mean that one of the bloke with the lines in the geometrical figures." Simon resumed his position, crossed his eyes, and stuck out his tongue. "How about now?"

"Come on, let me have a go." Neil leaped onto the rock and shouldered Simon aside. After a few good-natured shoves, Simon stepped off and watched Neil stand in one stance after another.

"Feel any machinery or magic or anything?" he demanded.

"Nothing." Neil jumped back onto the sand beside Simon. "I'd really like to know who came up with the design for inlaying those discs," he mused.

Simon had already turned away, and he pulled out the large napkin tied around their food. "I'm famished. Let's sit over here and–"

There was a loud scream from the direction of the house. "What was that?" Simon forgot the stolen breakfast. "Come on, let's go and see!"

Neil was already running towards the steps. Together, they raced back to the house, away from the waves and silent stones.

## CHAPTER 4: A Very Unpleasant Scene

SUNLIGHT FILTERED THROUGH her lashes. Miriam stretched and winced as her head struck the floor. Looking around, she realized she had fallen asleep after all. Had she dreamed at all during the night? She couldn't remember.

Her stomach rumbled. Not bothering to change her clothes, she got up and listened at the door. There wasn't a sound from the hallway, so she slipped out into the hall and crept down the stairs.

In the kitchen, Mrs. Williams stood at a broad wooden table, kneading something in a bowl. Her back was to Miriam, so the girl darted in, grabbed a piece of bread from a plate and darted out again.

"Stop that, now, you thieving varmint!" the cook shouted. "I'll not have all my bread stolen by the likes of you!"

Miriam ignored her and raced to the library. She pulled out the book of Arabic tales she had been reading the day before. She sat behind one of the large armchairs, opened the book and bit into the bread.

About an hour later, she heard the other occupants begin to move about in the house. Doors banged overhead. A bell rang, and the stairs creaked as Nelly slowly went up to the bedrooms. Miriam vaguely heard the maid mutter to herself, "Indian tea, and black coffee, and a pot of chocolate. Would yiz fancy a pint of porter as well?"

Her footsteps died away and Miriam became absorbed in her story again. Her half-eaten bread forgotten, she pushed her hair back out of her eyes and smeared crumbs over her face.

When she reached the end of the story, she looked up and sighed. It had come out just right. The beggar had defeated the evil Grand Vizier to win the hand of the princess.

"Perhaps in that drawer," someone murmured.

Miriam froze. Somebody – no, two people – had entered the room while she read. She had been so absorbed that she hadn't heard them come in. She poked her head cautiously around the side of the chair.

A man sat at her father's desk, leafing through some of the bills. As Miriam watched, a woman stepped in front of the desk with another sheaf of papers. "These don't seem to be of any importance, Virgil," the woman said. "I'm going to burn them in the fire."

"Better let me look at them first, Theodosia." The man stretched out one arm. "Never know what could be written on the back of a simple handbill."

"I suppose you're right. Although, I doubt he would have kept it in such a public place; I really think we're wasting our time here." She picked up a large ledger and began to turn the pages, looking at them from top to bottom in a suspicious manner.

"True as always, my dove. However, every man to the deck, and no shirking one's duty, eh?" The man laughed nervously. The woman ignored him and started to pore over the pages of a large ledger.

Miriam burst out from behind the chair. "What are you doing?" she demanded.

The woman shrieked, and jumped. The heavy volume she held in one hand fell to the floor with a loud thud. "Who in God's name is that!" she screamed.

"Why are you looking in my father's desk?" Miriam demanded again.

The woman turned a brick red, but whether it was from embarrassment or anger, Miriam couldn't tell. "How dare you–" the woman began. But the man behind the desk put down the document he had been reading, stood up and came forward. He put one hand on his wife's arm.

"Theodosia, my dear, please," he cautioned. He turned to the girl. "Miriam – it is Miriam, isn't it? \- We are Mr. and Mrs. Marchpane, but I hope you will call us uncle and aunt. Uncle Virgil and Aunt Theodosia, eh?"

"What are you doing with my father's things?" Miriam ignored the hand he held out to her.

"Insufferable manners!" The woman drew in a deep breath through her thin nostrils.

"Theodosia, please." The man smiled, showing a lot of long teeth, and turned back to Miriam. "I am your father's partner, my dear. One-time partner, I should say. Em, sorry about his, you know, death, and all that, eh? My wife and I have come here to set everything in order, as set down in your father's will. We hope to ensure that your father's fortune is held securely for you, as well as -"

The woman came forward and interrupted him. "Virgil, enough. We are now your guardians, Miriam. As such, we will need to make some changes, of course, and you will simply have to adjust to them."

Miriam's clothes were crumpled, since they were the same ones she had worn the night before. Untidy black ringlets hung in front of the girl's sallow face. Her eyes were as dark as her hair. Her elbows poked out of her sleeves, and her stockings puddled in wrinkles around her bony ankles.

"Did you sleep in those clothes?" Theodosia sniffed. "Disgusting. First we will have to make sure that you are washed and dressed properly. You should be in black, as befits the occasion."

"Don't think you can talk to me like that!" Miriam shouted. Theodosia, surprised, took a step back before she could stop herself. "Get out of my house!"

"Now, now." Virgil came forward and baring his teeth in a huge smile. His eyes darted in a desperate way between the furious little girl and his wife, who looked just as angry. "No need for scenes; let's just make the best of a bad situation, eh?"

Miriam turned to him. "I will not! Get out of my father's desk! Get out of my house!"

Theodosia stepped forward and grasped the girl's wrist. "See, Virgil? I knew how it would be. We will send her up to her room at once. Ring for the servant," she panted, holding on to Miriam's arm as the girl pulled and tore at the tight grip on her hands, and applied her teeth to the woman's bony fingers.

"Little wildcat!" Theodosia swore, jumped back and released the girl. "Ring at once, Virgil, do you hear? Come back here, you –"

Miriam managed to twist loose. She ran over to the desk, where she pulled a pile of papers off and scrambled over to the fire. There she thrust them into the heart of the blaze.

Virgil, who had been standing like a statue to one side, suddenly took action. He hurriedly applied his finger to a brass button near the door on the wall.

Miriam had gone back to the desk to pile more papers into her arms. "You won't! You can't! I won't let you!"

He tried to rescue some of the documents that had caught fire and were now burning merrily. A cinder in the grate popped and sent forth a shower of sparks onto his shirtfront, and he jumped backwards with a loud oath. Miriam came forward with another armful of papers, and he caught her arms to stop her from throwing them in as well. She immediately twisted away and began to scream, a thin wail that went on and on, rising in volume, until she was as loud as any train engine's whistle.

Theodosia put her hands over her ears. "Stop it at once!" she shouted. "Stop that! Be quiet, you untidy brat!" Her shouts also increased in volume as the girl screamed louder and louder.

The door opened and Furnace stood, looking into the room without showing any emotion. "You rang for me, sir?" he asked.

Instantly, the noise stopped as quickly as it had begun. For one moment, Virgil, Theodosia, and Miriam stood like a group getting a photo taken: 'Portrait of a Disturbing Scene.' Theodosia pointed one long, knuckled finger at Miriam.

"Take this child back to her room." Her voice shook with anger. "Find her a black dress, or some decent mourning wear. And she will stay there without supper or tea until she says she is sorry to my husband and me."

Miriam marched over to Furnace and glared at Theodosia. "I'm going," she announced. "And I'm not saying I'm sorry. Not to you. Never." She marched out, and Furnace followed more slowly.

Virgil rushed to the fireplace and applied the poker and tongs. He stepped back from the grate and dusted off his trousers. "I managed to save most of the documents, anyway. They're a bit scorched, but I think the ones she burned were worthless, really."

Theodosia stood at the window, her arms held stiffly down by her sides. Looking out at the neat lawn and clipped hedges through the window, she said, "I have never been spoken to in such a manner by a child. Never. I shall tame her spirit, Virgil, believe me."

He blew some ashes off the pile of papers he held and brought them over to the desk. "Er, my dear." He pulled down the corners of his mouth and looked at his wife. "That is, she is just a child, you know, and she has recently lost her father, and, you know, all of that."

Theodosia turned from the window and raised one hand as if brushing away a fly. "Nonsense. We have a great deal to do, Virgil, if we want to get our business project started. We must begin our work on that score very soon. We have to see to the settlement, and find the catalyst engine for that Machine, wherever Pearson left it."

"Quite, my dear," he began, but she cut him off and clicked her tongue with annoyance.

"For goodness sake! I entirely forgot I wanted her moved out of her bedroom so that it could be prepared and fumigated for our son! Now that she has been sent upstairs I cannot toss her out. I will have to wait now. It is all her fault that I forgot to do so!"

"You are right, as always, Theodosia. I only meant that we should show some spirit of kindness to Pearson's daughter, or people might start asking questions." He set the papers down, sat on the edge of the desk, and looked up at her. "And it is a dashed awkward time for people to ask questions, if you take my meaning."

She sighed with exasperation. "Virgil, leave the child to me, while you get things in order. You have too much on your mind to worry about a little baggage like that. What do these papers here show, in any case? How is the company holding up since Pearson's death?"

Virgil felt for his handkerchief and began to dust off a ledger of names with figures written next to them. "Oh, quite tolerably. He was a stickler for organization and a tight profit, despite his shortcomings in other matters. It's just too bad that he didn't agree with my proposals regarding the use of – well, we won't go into all that now, before breakfast. However, Theo, I think I can get everything up and running in a month or so, and we may begin the new project."

His wife bent her head. "I'm sure you will; you may appear to be a complete fool, but I suppose I cannot deny your business knowledge. As I've said before. Now." She straightened her spine and headed to the door. "A few hours of hunger will calm the girl and bring her around to our side. Besides, a little fasting never hurt anyone. I guarantee you that she'll bend to my will by tomorrow, indeed, if not by this very evening."

Virgil looked up from the ledger, huffed with relief, and kissed his fingers to her.

Simon chose that moment to burst into the room. "What's going on? We heard a terrific row. Who was shouting their heads off?"

Theodosia stopped at the doorway and looked at her husband. "You see?" she said, with a great deal of feeling. "She has damaged our family and our son already. Now, I'm on my way."

She strode out and nearly ran over Neil. Scorching him with an impatient look, she pushed past him in the hall. Neil, who had flattened himself against one wall to let her pass, let out his breath with a loud "Whew!"

Those who work behind the scenes, in the kitchens and washrooms and gardens of a large house, learn very quickly what is going on with the occupants. Before lunch, everyone, including the gardeners, was aware that the new mistress was what they called a right terror. She swept through the house, ordering changes throughout. Paintings had to be moved, glassware was to be put away and lists were to be compiled of the contents of closets and storerooms. "She even," said the cook, folding large arms, "was so bold as to inquire after My Pantry."

Mr. Pearson's rooms had to be cleared out and the bed made up with fresh linens, and the Marchpanes' trunks were moved in to the large suite and unpacked. On her tour of the house, Theodosia stopped in front of Miss Miriam's door (which was firmly closed) and had been about to enter, but she seemed to reconsider and moved up to the next floor to view the attics.

There, the maids' rooms had merely warranted a quick glance, but the large room that was used as a storehouse for old books was investigated thoroughly.

Mrs. Marchpane had "poked her long nose into every corner," George, one of the footmen, said bitterly, "and she wanted them big crates moved and opened. And it was the same with the box room!"

"And I heard tell, she has inquired after a skilled dressmaker in town," one of the maids said and poked George with her elbow. "Think she fancies herself in silk and satin? Can't you just see her in a ball dress, or a morning gown?"

"She should stick to puce," George responded. "It would match her face."

"That's enough from you, George," Furnace said. "Mrs. Williams, if you would be so kind as to pass the mustard. They are our new master and mistress, and as such, must be obeyed if we want to keep our positions. And," he pointed his knife at them, "meanwhile, Miss Miriam lies in her room, not having eaten a bite all day." He added a slice of cheese to the bread he had liberally spread with mustard.

Mrs. Williams, the cook, put down her cup of tea and sighed. "She may be a charge and a handful and a little terror, but it takes my appetite away, Mr. Furnace, to think of it. Never in my household has a child gone hungry or wanted for a meal. Never, Mr. Furnace. How long can she last, do you think?"

Nelly, the maid, and George looked at each other. Furnace put his bread and cheese into his napkin, folded the cloth around it, and said, "For as long as she needs to, Mrs. Williams, if you take my meaning. Would you have any spare apples in the pantry?"

Mrs. Williams laughed, and her large bosom wobbled. "I would indeed, Mr. Furnace. Be careful with that meal; I'm sure you want to keep your position!"

Nelly spluttered with laughter, and George choked on his bite. Furnace returned from the pantry with a large apple in one hand and favored them with a mild stare and one raised eyebrow. "But of course, Mrs. Williams," he murmured, polishing the fruit and adding it to the pile in the large napkin. "We must keep our places, so we can look after things, as well as after our late master's only daughter." He put the folded packet into his breast pocket and left the room.

## CHAPTER 5: A Difficult Decision

SEVERAL DAYS LATER, Miriam still had not emerged from her room. At last, prompted by Virgil, Mrs. Marchpane ordered the kitchen to serve her bread and water, but the trays came back down to the kitchen untouched. Mrs. Williams sighed and shook her head as she crumbled the uneaten bread and threw it out for the birds. She secretly planned small tasty meals she could send up in Furnace's pockets when the Marchpanes weren't looking.

However, Mrs. Marchpane seemed to be everywhere in the house. She continued to turn out the contents of drawers, going through musty closets and opening doors. The old house had many hiding places, nooks, hallways, and cloakrooms, and the new mistress searched them all.

"But what is it she wants to find?" George said later, as they sat in the kitchen.

"Not any of our business," Furnace said shortly. "You'll keep doing your duty, and I'll do mine."

George and Mrs. Williams looked at each other. It was becoming apparent that Mr. Furnace's temper was getting shorter as the days went on, which meant that Miss Miriam wasn't doing well.

Several times, Mrs. Marchpane sent her husband up to see the girl, but Miriam sent up such an outcry that Mr. Marchpane hurriedly withdrew. The last time it occurred, the girl hurled a volley of objects at him as soon as he poked his face around the door. One particularly heavy croquet ball connected painfully with his shin, and he yelped and left, slamming the door shut behind him. "Theodosia!" He limped down the stairs. "Theodosia, I simply must have words with you!"

Holding a vase, his wife appeared in the hall below, and looked up at him in astonishment. "What on earth do you want, Virgil? Why must you screech my name like that?"

"Theodosia, I always say you know best, but this must cease." At that he became aware of the servants counting the books in the library, just visible from where he stood. While they pointedly looked away from him, their backs seemed very interested in what he had to say.

"Come to the sitting room, my dear," he continued in a more quiet tone.

Inside the room, Theodosia closed the door and stood with her back flat against it. Two white dents appeared on either side of her nostrils. "What on earth is going on, Virgil?" she demanded.

Virgil raised one finger. "My dear, I have agreed to your schemes in all ways regarding the girl. But I am at a very difficult stage of the proposed project, and I cannot work with all this – this hooliganism going on."

Theodosia walked forward and sat in a straight-backed chair with a hard cane seat and a harp painted on its back. "Continue, Virgil," she said.

He spluttered, "The child – threw – things at me! And she has wounded me, I fear! In the leg, Theodosia!" Breathing heavily, he leaned on one arm of the sofa. "I could almost believe that she collected the objects before hand and planned the whole attack."

Theodosia narrowed her eyes. "Such a little hellion. She will stay on bread and water for another week," she added.

"My dear!" Virgil spread out his hands in frustration. "She has been on bread and water for almost a week already!"

"Well, Virgil," Theodosia said in a cold tone, "what exactly is it that you suggest? I assume you must have some plan."

"As a matter of fact I do. Hear me out." He arose, came forward, and got down on one knee beside her. "We cannot allow one little girl to ruin what we have planned. My dear," he paused and swallowed. "We must hire a governess to take care of her."

"A governess?" Theodosia snapped her head around and looked at him. "Are you out of your wits? Do you know how expensive a governess would be? First, wages, as well as uniforms, and rooms, and also meals – no, I cannot condone such a foolish scheme."

"Theodosia, do you know how expensive it will be if we cannot go through with the project?" He looked up at her.

She stared straight in front of her for a moment and sucked in her breath. "Oh, for heaven's sake. I cannot believe that one child should cause so much difficulty in a large household."

"My dear, the servants are beginning to talk. Word could get out. Secrecy is the key at this juncture, eh?"

She clicked her tongue. "Very well. We'll advertise for a governess. But," she added, raising one finger, "it will be someone strict. No namby-pamby idiot taking that child's side and spoiling her or giving her ideas above her station, do you hear me?"

"Of course, my dear." He stood up and dusted off the knee of his trousers. "I'll send a letter to the newspapers directly."

Miriam sat on the bed and clasped her knees. The various things she had collected to throw at her guardians, should they reappear in her doorway, were still strewn around her room, as well as clothes, books, plates, and glassware.

Still, she thought, it had been a good blow she had given 'Uncle Virgil'. She'd be flayed alive before she called him uncle, or that Woman aunt. They were poking around her house again, especially the Woman; she could hear the drawers being opened, rooms being unlocked, cupboards being emptied.

She looked out of the window. The sun beat down on the slates of the eaves. As she watched, the two boys who were also staying in the house walked past. They were on the path that headed to the sea. Even though she hadn't met them yet, Miriam could just imagine what they were like. They were stuck-up, like as not, and they probably talked about rubbish like polo and cricket.

There was a light tap at the door, and Furnace entered with a tray. "Your dinner, Miss Miriam," he said. He put the tray of bread and water on the table, and took a pear and a hunk of cheese wrapped in a large hankie from his pocket. Moving the hard piece of bread aside, he put the fruit on the plate.

"Are those people still messing about with my house?" Miriam ignored the food.

Furnace looked around the room and began to pick up some of the objects from the floor. "Miss Miriam," he said, "it is becoming very untidy in here. I'm going to open a window to let in some fresh air." Indeed, the bedroom smelled of unwashed clothes, stale food, and of Miriam herself. The chamber pot also needed to be emptied. Using the handkerchief that had held the pear, he picked up the chamber pot and headed for the door.

Miriam sighed heavily. After a moment, she picked up the pear and bit into it.

## CHAPTER 6: The Search for a Suitable Governess

THE NOTICES WENT out to the papers, and in a few days letters began to arrive from various women interested in the post of governess. Virgil felt hopeful that he would find someone within the week.

The interviews began, and his hopes dwindled. The first woman who appeared was small, grey, and "completely insignificant," Theodosia said with disdain. "She'll be eaten alive by that wild thing."

The next candidate was strong-willed enough but demanded too much money. In the library, Virgil felt his head begin to whirl as the day of interviews stretched from one, to two, three. No one applicant had Theodosia's requirements : to be the best available, and to work for the least amount possible.

On the fourth day, or maybe it was the fifth, Virgil rang for a cup of strong coffee and put his head in his hands. The girl had begun to look and smell like a dirty orphan, if what the servants said was true.

Of course, she was an orphan, but at least she should have the decency to keep herself clean. Apparently, the room in which she sat stank, and so did she. He made a moue of distaste at that thought and reached for the coffee pot as Furnace brought it in.

"Another one to see you, sir."

"Eh? Oh, didn't know that Theodosia had any more interviews lined up today." Virgil took a long swallow of coffee.

"Actually, I'm not sure that Mrs. Marchpane read the letter for this particular candidate." Furnace studied one corner of the desk.

Virgil put down his coffee cup. "Oh, and why do you say that?"

"No reason, I'm sure. Shall I send her in?" Furnace adjusted the silver coffee urn a fraction of an inch and stood back.

Putting his cup down, Virgil cast out a long sigh. "Might as well. Can't be any worse than the others." He picked up a delicate biscuit from the tray and began to nibble on it.

"Very good, sir." Furnace bowed his way out, and when the butler left, Virgil crammed the rest of the pastry into his mouth. By God, they might be living at the back of nowhere, but that cook certainly knew how to bake! Somewhat mellowed, he reached for another biscuit and bit into it just as the door reopened.

Virgil looked up and saw her. "What the merry devil -!" He inhaled sharply and began to choke. Blowing out a shower of crumbs, he waved one hand at the visitor. "You're the – you can't be – what do –"

As he coughed again, he began to laugh weakly. "You can't be serious!"

The woman came in composedly and sat down on the chair in front of his desk. "Good morning, sir," she said. "Are you indisposed?"

Virgil coughed desperately, and he finally managed to clear his throat. "Look here, this just won't do. We're sorry to take up your time and all that, but you can see for yourself that it just won't do at all. No, not one bit."

"What won't do?" The woman drew off her gloves. She was dressed extremely conservatively in a gray gown with white collar and cuffs that had the appearance of being very well made. Her hair was wound on the top of her head. An ornate wooden comb, fixed behind her bun in the Spanish fashion, added a few inches to her already tall figure.

"But, well, I mean, you're a Black! Eh?" Virgil grabbed for his napkin unthinkingly and mopped his forehead.

"I am from the Lampala islands, yes. In fact, I knew Mr. Pearson himself, when he first came out to my country to start his concerns." She smoothed her skirt, and said, "Shall we begin? I can give you excellent references from several families."

"I'm sure that you can," Virgil said. "But my wife would never agree to it! Look here, the salary is only forty pounds per annum." Mentally, he subtracted ten guineas from the lowest figure he had offered to the other candidates for the job. Now she would refuse, go away, and leave him in peace to finish his coffee.

"That amount would be satisfactory. But surely you wish to interview me, ask about my methods and such?"

"I – there's no point," he said weakly. "My wife –"

"Well, why don't you invite her in? Of course, she will have some questions as well." She sat back, folded her hands, and fixed him with a steady gaze.

He didn't know why, but somehow he found his hand going to the bell. In a moment, Furnace was at the door. "Ah, er, Furnace," Virgil said. "Look, send Mrs. Marchpane in here, would you?"

As Furnace withdrew, Virgil tried to regain control of the situation. "What is your name, anyway?" he blustered.

"I am Manapalata," the woman said.

What kind of an outlandish name was that! "Is that Miss, or Mrs. – oh, look, this is utterly ridiculous. Why don't we just pay your fare back, to wherever you came from, and you may-"

"Virgil!" Theodosia snapped his name as she entered the room. "What did you promise her? Money? Nonsense. Why do you need to see me – Holy living ghost!" She gasped as Manapalata turned around.

"Good morning, Mrs. Marchpane," the woman said. "Your husband and I had just agreed that you must have some questions for me."

"Questions! What on earth would I have to ask you? Get out of our house at once!" Theodosia said. A sudden wave of dizziness overtook her, and she swayed. "Oh, my. Oh dear."

Instantly the woman was on her feet to offer an arm. "Here, lean on me, Mrs. Marchpane. Why don't you sit down? It is warm in here, isn't it?"

"...and the second Sunday of every month, as well as half-days on Thursdays," the woman was saying. Virgil and Theodosia looked at each other confusedly, and he shook his head as if to clear it.

"Em, what was that?" he asked.

Manapalata smiled faintly. "You had agreed to my requirements."

"But we certainly will not hire you!" Theodosia tittered.

"You already have," the woman said, pointing to a signed paper on the desk. "Here is our contract."

Virgil held up the paper and looked at it. His signature was on it, above the name Manapalata Postulate. "When did I do that?"

"You hired her, Virgil?" Theodosia said to him in a dangerous tone.

"You did too, madam." Miss Postulate pointed to another signature on the page. "See there? You have signed your name as well. Now, if I could start at once, please." She got up and looked at the Marchpanes, her eyebrows raised. They both stared at their own signatures with their mouths open.

"Virgil," Theodosia said in a dangerous undertone, "exactly why did you sign your name on that contract?"

Virgil harrumphed. "Er, actually, I have no idea how, or when I signed it. But," he added, as Theodosia made to interrupt with one of her cutting remarks, "if it comes to that, why did you sign it as well? See here?" He pointed to her name, written beside his.

Theodosia frowned, and bent her head closer to the paper. "I really don't remember..."

Manalapata cleared her throat. Recovering with a start, Virgil rang for Furnace, and Miss Postulate headed to the door. Behind her, the two began to whisper to each other: "Why did you hire her – well, why did you – what on earth just happened – I don't know – how are we going to get rid of her!"

As Furnace opened the door and Miss Postulate left the room, Theodosia added, "No matter. Just wait until she meets that dreadful child. She won't last the rest of the day."

## CHAPTER 7: Several Encounters

MIRIAM LOOKED CLOSELY at the scab on her knee, and began to pick at it. She sniffled a bit and rubbed her nose with her sleeve. One day, she thought, she would come out of her room, and she would be grown. In fact, she would be a young lady. They would have to listen to her.

She would accost the Marchpanes and demand to see her father's attorneys. The guardians would be so flustered they would give in. They would sign the house over to her, and she would make the Marchpanes leave at once.

There was a light tap at the door, and she bounded off the bed and grabbed a large encyclopedia of children's stories to throw, should the visitor be 'Uncle Mud-bottom Virgil'.

"Miss Miriam?" It was Furnace's voice.

Miriam put down the book. "Oh, it's you. I suppose you might as well come in."

The door opened. A dark figure stood behind Furnace in the hall, obscured by the shadows. "Miss Miriam, this is your new governess, Miss Postulate. You must be good and say hello to her."

"Governess?" Miriam opened her eyes wide with shock, unable to believe that Furnace could be such a traitor. "Is she from them? I'll tear her eyes out! I'll stamp on her toes! I'll –"

"You'll do nothing of the sort," a determined voice said. Miss Postulate entered the room, looked about and moved a pair of boots from a chair. She sat down and looked at Miriam with great calm.

"What – what?" Miriam backed away as quickly as she could. She had heard of dark-skinned people, but she had never been in close contact with them, let alone talked to them. Furnace quickly withdrew and closed the door. After a moment of frozen silence, Miriam threw herself forward and began to pound on it, screaming at the top of her lungs.

The governess continued to look at her. Being silently watched is unnerving, and after a few minutes Miriam's shouts died down and finally ceased altogether. She pounded weakly on the door a few more times, and backed away and sat on the floor. "You're a Black person," she said.

"More like a deep brown, I would say. You'll have to learn to be more observant in my care. A girl your age should be more mature than that."

Miriam opened her mouth and closed it. She lifted one arm and wiped her nose on her sleeve.

The governess reached into her shirt pocket and withdrew a small white handkerchief. Handing it to Miriam, she said, "My name is Manapalata Postulate. I prefer Mana."

After a second's hesitation, Miriam leaned forward and grabbed the handkerchief. Backing away quickly, she blew her nose ferociously. "I'm called Miriam. I'm an orphan," she said.

"Hmm. So am I. By the way, you need a good wash." Miss Postulate, or Mana, deposited the handkerchief on top of a pile of clothes Miriam had discarded.

Miriam looked down at herself. A large stain was on the front of her pinafore, where she had dropped her bread and jam earlier, and her greasy hair hung in front of her face. She pushed it back with one hand, realizing belatedly how grubby she must be after her long stay in her room.

In contrast, Mana was so neatly turned out that she shone with cleanliness. Her collar and cuffs were starched, and not a single hair escaped from the comb on her braided coronet.

"I'm hungry," Miriam said. "I've been in here for nearly two weeks on bread and water."

"Not just bread and water, judging from the look of you," Mana retorted, pointing to the jam stain. "But here, this will tide you over until I wash your face and your hands. In fact, you need a long bath." Reaching into a large bag, she took out a packet and broke off a few squares of chocolate. Miriam immediately dashed forward and grabbed at the sweets, but Mana held up her arm. "Stop at once; you almost bit my fingers off. Now put out your hand, and say thank you."

Hardly knowing what she was doing, Miriam complied. "But I'm not taking a bath," she added with her mouth full.

"Yes, you are," Mana replied with complete composure.

A few hours later, Miriam emerged from the bathroom. Mana took off a large apron, and quickly opened some drawers. Holding out a black garment, she said, "Come here and get dressed."

"I'm not wearing black!" Miriam shouted, stamping one bare foot on the floor. "That Woman wants me to wear black, and I'm not going to!"

"No? Why not?" Mana looked at her with curiosity.

"Because she wants me to, and I'm not going to do anything she wants me to," Miriam announced triumphantly.

Mana turned back to the chest of drawers and began to rummage in another drawer for clean stockings. "You already have," she replied.

Miriam frowned. "What do you mean?"

"She wanted you to take a bath, and now you have." Mana held up a pair of stockings, shook her head over a hole in one toe, and added, "These will have to do."

"Well, that's not fair! I didn't know she wanted me to take one! And besides, they want to steal my father's company." Miriam scowled.

Mana sat back on her heels, holding the stockings in one hand. "I see. And you're just going to allow that to happen?"

"No! Of course not! I'll stop them!"

"Fat lot of good you'll do about it holed up in here." Mana put a vest over Miriam's head, and without noticing, the girl held up her arms for the dress. "Now, listen to me," Mana said. "You can run at a wall with your head and bash into it, but it's certain that all you'll get is a sore head. Or you can study the wall and check for its weak points, and when you find them, and you have the proper tools, you can knock it down." She quickly gathered up one stocking and slipped it over Miriam's toe. "Do up your suspenders."

Deep in thought, Miriam tied up her stockings. "You mean you think I could stop my aunt and uncle – I mean my guardians – from taking over the company?"

"You certainly won't do anything acting the way you have, like a little savage."

Miriam sniggered. "Funny to hear you call someone else a savage."

"That is rude, and beneath you. Remarks like that are what I would expect an idiot to say, not you. Unless you are not as intelligent as I thought."

Miriam frowned. She never cared about lessons, or learning facts; as far as Miss Osbourne had been concerned, education was secondary to etiquette. Yet, for some reason, she didn't want to appear stupid in front of this calm, tidy person buttoning up her dress. After a moment, the girl muttered, "Sorry."

"Accepted."

"But when can I start fighting my guardians?" Miriam persisted.

"You're not going to fight them," Mana replied. "For one, it would be the most appalling bad manners, and for another, it would get you nowhere."

Miriam stared at Mana. "Where did you come from?" she asked.

"From the Lampala islands. I knew your father."

"And they hired you? I can't believe it!"

"Believe it. Now we're going to tidy this room. Start a pile of dirty clothes here, and let's put the dishes in the corner."

Downstairs, Theodosia heard Miriam's screams as Furnace closed the door. A thin smile spread over her face as she imagined the governess getting pelted with heavy objects. Her smile faded away, however, as the screams stopped and there was complete silence.

Later, a call came from upstairs for hot water, and Theodosia heard the sound of loud splashes. Miriam was finally getting a bath.

She frowned and walked slowly up the stairs. She looked at the closed door of Miriam's bedroom. What on earth could be going on in there?

"What's happening?" Virgil said behind her.

Theodosia jumped and whirled around on him. "Virgil! How dare you creep up on me in that fashion! I was merely looking for –"

"You were wondering what the governess is doing," Virgil said, biting the top off a cigar. "So was I."

"Oh, for goodness' sake. As if it mattered in the slightest to me." Something struck her, and Theodosia added, "I still can't seem to remember what happened during that interview. It's most unsettling."

"Nor can I, my dear. Still, if that island woman can handle that little wildcat and stop her throwing cricket balls indoors, and at such a small wage, you and I have no more worries." Humming, he puffed on his cigar and went back downstairs.

"Can I have more chocolate now?" Miriam demanded. The room was now much tidier, and the windows were opened, letting in some fresh air.

"No. Supper first," Mana said. "We'll go down and you can apologize to your guardians, and I'll have some decent food sent upstairs. No more pickles or cheese or sandwiches from Mr. Furnace; you'll want a good rice pudding or some semolina."

"But I'm not going to –" Miriam stopped and looked up at Mana. "If I apologize, is that part of, you know, what you said? You know, part of studying the wall and finding the weaknesses and strengths, and all that?"

Mana picked up the large pile of dirty garments. "More importantly, it is the start of your having some decent manners and not antagonizing everyone in the house."

"But I don't care about that," Miriam argued. "I want to spy on the Marchpanes, and discover what they are doing in my house."

Mana pointed to the tray of dishes. "Pick that up, and we'll be on our way." Without looking to see if Miriam obeyed or not, she left the room.

Furnace, who was carrying a fresh bottle of port to the sitting room for the evening, stopped and looked up the stairs. Miss Miriam came down the staircase behind Mana. The girl was as clean and neat as a new pin, and she carried a tray of dirty plates.

"Good evening, Mr. Furnace," Mana said with complete calm, rounding the corner. "Do you think I can get these things laundered? And may we leave that tray in the hall? Miriam would take them to the kitchen, but she needs to speak to her aunt and uncle first."

A certain light came into Furnace's eye as he recognized the touch of a master. "Indeed, Miss Postulate," he said. "Mr. and Mrs. Marchpane are in the sitting room."

"Thank you," she replied. "Oh, and I'll need to have our supper sent up to the schoolroom, and a fire lit in there, please. I'll eat with Miriam."

"Very well." Before he could stop himself, Furnace bowed. She smiled and headed towards the sitting room, Miriam close behind.

Furnace put the port on the table and took the tray instead. As much as he wanted to see the ensuing meeting between Miss Miriam and her guardians, he knew it was none of his affair. However, a thin smile spread over his features.

In the sitting room, Theodosia idly leafed through a book of fashions. Virgil, his feet propped up on the table, swirled a large glass of amber liquid under his nose. As Miriam and Mana walked in, he looked up, gave an exclamation, and hurriedly swung his feet to the floor.

"Ah, Miss Hm-ha!" he said, baring his teeth in a large smile. "How nice to see you. And Miriam too, of course."

Theodosia twitched her brows together. "What is the meaning of this?" she asked.

Miriam bunched her hands into fists, and Mana put one hand on the girl's shoulder. "Miriam wished to express her apologies to you both before we had dinner," she said. "Isn't that so, Miriam?"

The girl gulped. With the air of one facing a firing squad, she blurted out, "Yes. I'm very sorry for screaming, and for throwing a croquet ball at you, Uncle Virgil." Closing her lips before she said anything else, she stepped back.

"Well, I should think so!" Theodosia rose to her feet and stepped forward, shaking one finger. "You have been acting like a little savage; I have never seen the like! And now that you are out of your room, miss, we will have your things moved out and up to the attics, which is the proper place for you."

"My father gave me that room!" Miriam shouted, stepping forward as well. "I'm not afraid of you!"

Smiling faintly, Theodosia said, "I knew how it would be. You haven't changed a bit, and you obviously need to go back on bread and water."

"Now, now, Theodosia." Alarmed, Virgil got heavily to his feet. "Miriam has expressed her apologies, and I think we should accept them."

"I take back my apologies!" Miriam shrieked. "I wouldn't apologize to you if you were the last people in the world!"

"Miriam." Mana's voice cut into the melee coolly, and everyone stopped talking.

Miriam opened her mouth, shut it, and said, "Please forgive my behavior just now."

"Of course we won't forget it! You will be put on bread and water, just as I said."

Mana replied, "That will not be necessary, Mrs. Marchpane. I will take care of Miriam's punishments from now on." She stared at her for a long moment, and slowly Theodosia backed up a step.

"Yes, yes." She put one hand to her head. "Yes, that will be fine." Looking a bit dazed, she collapsed onto a chair. "That will not be necessary," she intoned. "You will take care of Miriam's punishments from now on."

Miriam looked up at Mana, amazed. Her governess had made That Dreadful Woman back down!

Mana closed her eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and said, "We will go upstairs now and have supper. Tomorrow we will begin lessons, and I will assist in the removal of Miriam's things to the attics. Say goodnight," she added, turning to Miriam.

"Goodnight, Uncle Virgil and Aunt Theodosia," Miriam said, not paying attention. She wanted to get upstairs as soon as she could and question Mana about how she had handled Aunt Theodosia.

## CHAPTER 8: Miriam's First Lesson

"FINISH YOUR RICE pudding." Mana went to the fireplace and drawing back the screen. Taking a poker, she began to jab at the coals. A small flame shot up, and she added another shovelful of coals. "There, that's better." She sat down and reached for the teapot.

"But why won't you tell me how you did it?" Miriam said for the fiftieth time. "I've never seen them act like that. And you must have gotten them to hire you somehow; I can't imagine Aunt Po-faced Theodosia wanting natives in the house."

"That's about as rude a statement as I ever heard," Mana said calmly. "First, kindly discontinue the use of words like 'Po-faced' in my schoolroom. Second, I am not a 'native'; I am an islander. Don't forget it again."

"Sorry." Miriam looked down at her plate. Somehow it didn't do to cross Mana. She didn't seem to get angry, but she could make you feel like a worm if you didn't do as she said. "But still, won't you tell me?"

"Absolutely not. We have too much to do. You'll need a good school uniform, and the state of your undergarments is ridiculous."

"A uniform!" Miriam was outraged. "But I'm not going to school!"

"I disagree. You may be my only pupil, but I am indeed running a school." Mana stared at her with her eyebrows raised, and Miriam finally dropped her eyes again.

"Are you doing it to me?" she asked, after a bit.

"Doing what?" Mana added a spot of milk to her cup and sipped her tea.

"You know, what you did to my guardians."

Mana put down her cup and saucer on the table. She paused, and said, "You are more like your father than you think. And the answer is No."

"Oh." Miriam thought for a moment. "Will you tell me what you did to my guardians? Will you teach me how to do it?"

"We have to move your rooms first, and then I have a great many other things to teach you," Mana replied. "We'll see how you do in your lessons first."

"And if I do well, will you show me?" Miriam asked. Mana opened her mouth, and Miriam cut her off. "No, I know what your answer is. 'We'll see'."

Mana's lips twitched. "Time for bed."

The girl took the governess' hand, and they walked down the hall to her bedroom. Except it won't be my room any more, she thought, not after tomorrow.

Miriam jumped into bed and curled her feet up under her. "I'm really not sleepy," she said.

"Shall I read you a story?"

"Oh, yes please!" Miriam said. "How about that one?" She pointed to a heavy volume that lay on the little table by her bed.

Mana smiled. "Well, maybe one chapter. Now, lie down." She opened the book, reached for a pair of spectacles that hung around her neck on a gold chain, and began to read. Miriam watched her for a bit, her dark eyes intent on the governess, and they began to close of their own accord. Mana read on, and stopped when the girl's breathing grew even and her head slipped to one side. Quietly, she stood up and put the book on the table, and she turned to leave.

"Mana," Miriam whispered.

"Well?"

Miriam whispered something that was too quiet for the governess to hear. Her eyes closed, and her head turned on the pillow. Mana looked at her for a moment, smoothed back one black ringlet from the girl's cheek, and turned back to the door.

The next morning, lessons began. Miriam wasn't pleased when she saw how much work was set for her. She had to keep a journal, as well as work on mathematics, Latin and history. Mana called a halt to their studies when lunch was sent up to the room. After they had eaten, she told Miriam to get her coat and hat so they could take a walk outside. Miriam flew downstairs, but when she returned, out of breath, Mana held out a sketchbook.

"Here you are," she said. "We'll draw at least three botanical specimens. You can learn a poem by heart when we come back, and that should do it for today."

"But I thought I could play outside!" Miriam said rebelliously.

"You may, when lessons are finished," Mana replied. "In the meantime, do me the favor of tying your bootlace."

Miriam muttered something under her breath, but did as she was told.

When they returned some time later with three rather wobbly sketches, they ran into Aunt Theodosia in the downstairs hall. She wore a green walking suit with a lace blouse and a hat trimmed with ribbons to match the suit; the ensemble was obviously new, but the color clashed unfortunately with her skin, making her look rather like an olive. "Oh, there you are," she said. "Are your things moved to the attics yet?" She spoke to Miriam, ignoring Mana.

"I packed everything this morning." Mana ignored Theodosia's lack of manners. Looking up at her governess, Miriam thought how neat and dignified she looked, next to green olive-like Aunt Theodosia. "While Miriam is learning her poetry this afternoon, I'll arrange the move."

"Well," Aunt Theodosia flicked one of her quick glances at the governess and hurriedly looked away. "That should be acceptable, as long as you both keep out of Simon's room."

"Who's Simon?" Miriam demanded.

Aunt Theodosia opened her mouth to reply acidly, but Mana smoothly intercepted her. "I should imagine he's the Marchpanes' son; isn't that so, Mrs. Marchpane?"

"That is correct." Aunt Theodosia turned away, but turned back to deliver one more comment. "And you'll be on your best behavior if you do encounter him, miss!"

"Of course she will." Mana put one hand between Miriam's shoulder blades and gently propelling her up the stairs. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Marchpane."

In the schoolroom, Mana ignored Miriam's protests and opened a book of poetry in front of her. "Start with this," she said. "I must go and make arrangements."

Miriam scowled as Mana left the room. "I hate poetry!" she said to herself. Drearily, she looked at the page and read the poem. To her surprise, she was able to learn the lines quite easily, since it was about horsemen galloping from one city to another with an important message. The rhythm seemed to gallop as well, and after a bit, Miriam found that her feet were tapping out the words. "Da-da-da, da-da-da, da-da-da-da-dum." She imagined herself on horseback, riding as fast as she could with vital information.

"Have you learned your lines?" Mana opened the door and coming in with some garments draped over one arm.

Miriam opened her eyes, surprised. "Oh! Yes, I think so."

"Let's hear them." Mana sat opened a wooden box. Miriam had never seen it before, and it looked like some of the things her father used to bring back with him from Lampala.

As it was carved on the outside with exciting pictures of exotic trees and flowers, Miriam was disappointed to find that it only contained needles and wool. Mana picked up a darning egg and looked at Miriam over the rim of her glasses. "You may begin now," she said.

Miriam recited the poem, finding that the lines rolled easily off her tongue. At the end, she stopped and looked at Mana for praise.

"Not bad," Mana said, biting off a thread. "However, must you tap your feet while you're reciting?"

"Oh," Miriam said, looking down. "I didn't realize I was tapping. I suppose it was just the way I learned it."

"Ah." Mana's lips twitched. "Well, that's not so bad in that case, although it might not go over in the royal drawing room. Maybe you can learn the next one by blinking your eyes."

"Or snapping my fingers," Miriam said. "Mana, do I really have to move to another room?"

"Already moved," Mana said. "Everything is upstairs. I must say, it will be much more convenient, as my room will be across the hall."

Miriam slumped back into her chair. "But I can hear the train whistle from there –"

Mana looked up sharply and put down her sewing. "Come here," she said, holding out one hand. Miriam walked over, and Mana put her hand on the girl's arm. "Now, what's all this?"

"Nothing," Miriam replied. "Just that I hear the whistle of the train that comes at night, and I don't like it, that's all."

"Now, look." Mana stood up, and pointed to a door in the corner of the room. "Your bedroom is right up those steps, so we won't have to traipse up and down the main hall anymore."

"Very convenient," Miriam responded sarcastically. "But that was my bedroom – that I have always slept in – since my father was here."

"All right, come on." Mana rose. "Come up and have a look." She walked to the door and opened it to reveal a small staircase.

Rather grudgingly, Miriam admitted, "I never knew that was there."

"No, why should you? It is the way to the servants' quarters, and now – to our rooms as well. Follow me." Mana started up the stairs, and Miriam followed unwillingly. The stairs were painted white and carpeted with a faded runner, and a rail went up one side. At the top there was a narrow hall that divided the top story into two sides, lined with doors. "This is your room," Mana said. She opened the door that was closest to the top of the stairs, and Miriam walked inside.

She had expected the attic room to be dreary, but it was painted white inside. The ceiling sloped close to the floor, and the late afternoon sun shone in through two dormer windows with window seats. The floor was made of wooden boards, rather weathered, but a cream rug with poppies on it lay in front of the windows.

There was a long, low bookshelf on one side that Mana had filled with Miriam's favorite books. Near the window stood a chest of drawers with a china bowl and jug; as well, cheerful postcards of flowers and ferns were propped on the mantelpiece over the fireplace between the two windows. The room was extremely clean, and it smelled of fresh wax, lavender, and clean sheets.

"This is – not bad," Miriam said, looking around. "Oh – oh no!"

"What on earth is it?" Mana said.

"My chest," Miriam replied. "It's still in my room!"

"No, it's not," Mana replied. She walked over the side wall of the room. Miriam saw that there was an iron handle set into the wall, which pulled out. Mana pulled on the handle, and the wall opened, revealing a long, low cupboard. Inside it was the chest from Miriam's old room.

"Well, that's handy," Miriam said.

"The chest? Or the cupboard?"

"Both," Miriam said. "Did you open the chest?"

"As it is yours, not mine, I did not," Mana answered.

"Wouldn't you like to see what's inside?"

"Not now, Miriam. Keep it closed. And, I would use a copybook instead," she added.

Miriam looked up at her in astonishment. "You mean, for writing my stories?" she said.

"Well, of course. Trust me. Keep that chest closed for now, and use a pencil instead."

Miriam nodded, her eyebrows furrowing. "But, how did you know what was in my trunk?"

Mana didn't answer. "Well, what do you think?"

"Oh, the room. It's not so bad," Miriam said. "But down there –" She pointed at the window.

Mana leaned over beside her and peered out of the window. Far below, beyond the house gardens, a deep, wide furrow plowed through the thick woods.

"What is it?" Mana asked seriously. "Is that the railway?"

"It's the Night Watchman Express," Miriam replied.

"Listen to me, Miriam." Mana put her hands on Miriam's shoulders. "What time does that train go past the house?"

Puzzled, Miriam replied, "At midnight, every night. Why?"

"I'll come in every night and sit in here as it goes by," Mana said, turning Miriam to face her. "Will that help?"

Bluntly, Miriam asked, "Why are you being so nice to me?"

Mana sighed. "Because you're in my charge," she said. "And –"

"Well?"

Mana stood up and moved to the door. "Come on now, close those closet doors. It's time for your bath."

That night, Miriam lay in her new room, sleepily thinking to herself about the quick glimpse she had of Simon. I bet he's a real wart, she said to herself; has to be, with those parents. That friend he was walking around with outside is probably a scab too.

Mana sat in front of the fireplace. The governess read a book and sang something softly in an unknown language. Miriam could just make out some of the words: angule something, tanalapaka, lampala ife la something... Maybe she'll teach me the words, she thought, after lessons tomorrow. Maybe she'll teach me the language of her island...

A faraway whistle sounded and rose to a thin wail. Mana turned to look at Miriam, but the girl slept peacefully.

A few hours earlier, Mrs. Williams and Nelly were engaged in making fruitcake. George came into the kitchen with a pair of bottles, one tucked under each arm. "Here you are, the sherry that you wanted, and Mr. Furnace will be along directly with the port and the champagne. Any chance of a taste?" he added hopefully, looking at the cakes.

"Get out of here!" Mrs. Williams threatened him with a rolling pin before she weakened. "Very well, have a mince pie,; it'll put some flesh on your bones. May I tempt you, Mr. Furnace?"

"You may indeed." Furnace came through the door with a heavy wooden box.

"What do we know about this governess?" Nelly carefully measured a square of greased paper against a pan and cut it to fit the bottom.

"All I know is that I had to move all the furniture in Miss Miriam's room," George said.

"Miss Miriam's room no longer," Furnace reminded him.

The cook shook her head. "Such doings," she murmured. "Master would never have stood for it. Cut that string a bit longer, Nelly; it'll never fit twice around those pudding basins like that."

"Mr. Pearson would have wanted us to look after Miss Miriam," Furnace replied. "We all need to do our jobs as well as possible so the Marchpanes have no complaints."

"Right you are," George agreed, "otherwise we'll be let go. And who knows who they'd get in our places?"

"Oh, yes," Nelly said. "It would be her doing the hiring, that thin woman; she's always popping her long nose into everything."

"Haven't heard a squeak out of the girl today," George said. "Do you think its right, having a lady from the island as her governess?"

"She could come from the bottom of the ocean, for all I care," Mrs. Williams vigorously scraped the bottom of a bowl. "Miss Miriam is eating like a Christian again, and she had roses in her cheeks when she came in today from drawing plants."

"Drawing plants?"

"Her botany lesson, Nelly," Furnace explained. "And I quite agree with you, Mrs. Williams."

"Still, I wonder what that son of theirs will make of Miss Miriam when they do finally run into each other," George retorted.

## CHAPTER 9: Miriam, Simon, and Neil

"THIS ONE'S A bit better," Mana said, pointing to Miriam's drawing of a foxglove. The breeze stirred Miriam's curls, but not one hair on the governess' head was out of place.

"Thanks," Miriam said, surprised. Praise from Mana was rare.

Mana glanced at the sun. "Heavens!" she exclaimed. "Look at the time! We'd better get back at once. Pick up that box of colors, and give me your sketchbook."

Miriam tumbled her pencils into the wooden box and squeezed it shut. "No poetry today?" she asked hopefully.

"Of course you will learn your lines," Mana responded. "You'll just have to do it later, that's all; after dinner probably."

"Oh, balderdash," Miriam said. "Wonder if I have to meet that stupid boy, that Simon."

"What did you say?" Mana looked at her pupil sternly, but her voice quivered with amusement. Miriam looked up and grinned, and confidently tucked her hand in the crook of Mana's elbow. As they walked back to the house with their easels and folders of drawings, Mana added, "I feel sorry for Simon. He's living in a completely new house, and he has to adjust to everything."

"Feel sorry for him? I don't, not one bit," Miriam scoffed. "Aunt Theodosia thinks he's the shining light of the world; she bought him three presents from town today and had them wrapped. I heard Nelly tell Cook earlier. And he's sleeping in my bedroom!"

"Just as I thought," Mana said. "I feel even sorrier for him now."

"Well!" Miriam said, giving it up. She tugged Mana's arm down and claimed her hand as they hurried across the lawns to the house.

The 'shining light' was sitting in the library, scowling at his mother.

"Are you hungry, Simon? I ordered a big tea." Theodosia reached over and straightened his collar. She considered him for a moment, licked one finger, and used it to smooth his hair back.

"Stop it, mother, for heaven's sake!" Simon protested and twisted his face away violently.

"Of course," she added with a lowered voice, "you'll have to meet that girl, now that she has come out of her room. Your room," she corrected herself.

"I must say," she added thoughtfully, "that governess has worked out quite well. Of course she costs very little in wages." Theodosia tittered and examined her fingernails.

"Why does she cost so little?" Simon glanced out the window.

"Oh, well, just wait until you meet her. You'll see why at once. Although, I would rather that we stay to ourselves... In fact, I wish you didn't have to talk to her at all."

"How about Neil?" Simon asked. "Is he going to meet them as well?"

"Oh, really, Simon! You quite put me out of patience with you! You always bring him up at every opportunity, just when we're having a nice chat." Theodosia frowned. "Why can't you be friends with some nice people, like Lord Festerton's son, or that nice young Ruskin boy?"

"Because Ruskin and Festerton are the biggest snobs I know. And, mother, he's not a fisherboy. Neil's father might live by the sea, but he owns a boat, fair and square, and –"

Theodosia tittered. "Well, excuse me! A boat owner! Well, well! Aren't we Somebody!"

Simon got up and exploded, "Don't talk about him like that!"

"Simon! Manners, really! And have some gratitude!"

"Gratitude? For what? I have nothing to –"

The door opened in the library, and Furnace bowed.

Theodosia whirled on him, anxious to take her displeasure out on someone.

"What is it, blockhead?" she shouted.

"Tea is ready in the drawing room, madam," Furnace replied. "You rang for it earlier."

She opened her mouth, said nothing, and shut it. "Yes. I see. Very well."

Theodosia was further discomposed to find the child and the new governess waiting for them in the drawing room, along with the tea. "Oh, it's you," she said, sitting down in front of the table laid with tea things.

The governess bowed and said, "Say hello to your aunt, Miriam."

"Hello," Miriam said. "Is that Simon?" She pointed at him.

"Don't point," Mana said.

Theodosia opened her mouth, shut it again, and wished that tea had already finished. To make matters worse, the door opened and Neil came in, The thin boy looked rather nervous when he saw the assembled company.

"Hello, Neil!" Simon said with relief. "Um, this is Miriam. And her gov –" He turned towards Mana for the first time, and gasped. The sound echoed through the room, but Mana seemed entirely at her ease.

She smiled and said, "Hello Neil. I'm Miss Postulate, Miriam's new governess. Very nice to make your acquaintance."

"Are you a native?" Simon blurted out.

"From the Lampala islands," Mana replied. "Sit down, Miriam, and take the tea your guardian is handing to you."

Neil moved forward to take the cup of tea. "The Lampala Islands," he repeated excitedly. "That's near the West Indies, isn't it?"

Mana smiled. "I suppose you could say that, yes."

"And don't they export most of the bolemor wood used in England?"

Simon stared at Neil. He had never heard him say a word to either of his parents, and here he was asking questions of a tall woman with black skin.

"How about a cup of tea for Mana?" Miriam stared at Theodosia.

"No tea for me, thank you, Miriam," Mana spoke with great firmness and cut off Theodosia's shocked denial. "Neil, I believe that the only bolemor wood in this country comes from Lampala."

"And it's imported by Pearson's," Miriam added.

"I know," Neil said. "My father used to wonder how they were able to bring such quantities over. Bolemor is known to be the strongest, best wood there is. How is it done, Miss Postulate? Do you know?"

"Yes, well, that's quite enough talk about islands and company business for now," Theodosia said, hurrying forward to regain control of the situation. "Simon, come and have some tea."

"Are you really from the islands?" Simon looked interested. He couldn't imagine his parents actually hiring someone who was a native.

"Yes, she is," Miriam said, "and she's my governess. She looks after me now that my father is dead. We have lessons every day in the morning, and we do our drawing, and I have to learn a poem by heart every night. I haven't done one yet today, but I'll learn it before dinner. Yesterday's verse was easy. I bet you couldn't learn it, though."

Simon was sorry he asked. He stared at the girl. She had black curls escaping from a grey ribbon, and large, black eyes. Just as he had suspected. The girl was a babbling idiot.

"No one wants to listen to the schedule of your lessons," Theodosia said. "You'd better hand me your cup and saucer and return upstairs."

"Come along, Miriam," Mana said. "Good-bye for the present, Neil and Simon. It was very pleasant to have a talk with you both."

Miriam put her cup on the table. "You're staying in my room," she said to Simon and left.

## CHAPTER 10: The Window Seat

"MIRIAM, IT'S TIME to put your journal away and start your geometry lesson." Mana selected three volumes from the bookcase and looked out the window.

Miriam looked up with a start. "Is it time already?" As she flipped back through what she had written, she found she had filled more than five pages. "Mana," she complained, "I'm right in the middle of writing a story! If I stop now, I'll forget what happens!"

"Well, tell me what your story is about," Mana said.

"It's about a princess whose father dies, and she's walled up in a tower made of ice!" Miriam said, looking over her journal at Mana to see the effect of this thrilling statement.

"An orphaned princess, you say? Go on, why is she walled up in ice?"

"Her wicked uncle has put her there," Miriam continued. "There's no door to the tower, so each day his talking greyhound, must come and scratch through the ice so it can bring her dinner to the princess."

"A talking greyhound," Mana repeated, listening with full attention.

"But here's the important bit," Miriam said. "The princess knows a secret that will save her kingdom from doom, and that's why her uncle keeps her imprisoned – he wants to take over her kingdom, you see, and he knows that if she gets free, she will foil his evil plot."

"Sounds like a most exciting tale," Mana responded. "You may write for ten more minutes, and you will finish it after lessons today."

"Oh, but I must finish it now! Mana, can't I skip math for today? Please," Miriam begged.

"Nine and one half minutes," Mana said decisively, looking at her watch.

Miriam gave it up and quickly turned the page. She picked up her pen.

Lessons seemed to last forever that day. Miriam kept thinking of things that she wanted to add to her story. There was the description of the way the moonlight would reflect off the frozen pillars in the tower, and a passage about a scepter made of silver and crystal. Once found, the scepter would help the princess defeat her uncle.

She hadn't seen Simon or Neil for days; neither had she caught a glimpse of Uncle Virgil or Aunt Theodosia. After that first meeting, the boy was hustled away from Miriam whenever there was a chance of a meeting. He dined in state with his parents in the long dining room, 'so he would get used to society,' Aunt Theodosia said. Miriam, on the other hand, continued to spend most of her time with Mana, having supper much more comfortably in the schoolroom and learning her lessons.

After Latin, when luncheon was brought up (soft-boiled eggs and toast) Miriam begged for a break so she could write some more. "Certainly not," Mana said. "You'll have yolk all over your copybook, not to mention you will spill it on the fresh pinafore I ironed today."

Miriam sulked for a bit and ate as quickly as she could, hoping to get back to lessons so she could finish sooner. "And do not swallow your food without chewing," Mana continued. "Don't saw the top of your egg with a knife; it's vulgar. Use your egg spoon."

After lunch, it was time for botany. Grumbling, Miriam fetched her drawing book and her hat. However, when they stepped outside, the sky that had threatened rain all day rumbled and began to throw down rain.

"Goodness!" Mana said. "No botany today. Wait, Miriam, don't dash off like that, you still have to learn your lines."

"Balderdash," Miriam said under her breath.

"And don't mutter," Mana said. "Give me that, and I'll hang it up." Taking Miriam's coat, Mana opened the cloakroom, a funny little chamber under the stairs that smelled of deckchairs.

"Do I have to learn a long poem?" Miriam stumped upstairs beside Mana's graceful stride.

"It's rather long, yes," Mana replied. "But you'll have it by heart shortly," she continued and cut off Miriam's protests. "I think you'll be pleasantly surprised. And when you're finished, you may go off on your own for a bit. I have some tasks to do myself."

Indeed, the poem was rather long, but it was about a strange country with icy caverns and wailing maidens. Miriam slumped in front of the book, but when she began reading, she sat forward, her lips moving as she said the lines to herself. She didn't notice when Mana closed the door, sat down at the table, and began to read her own book.

"I think I'm ready now, Mana," Miriam said.

"Very well." Mana put a long ribbon in her volume and closed it. She listened while Miriam said her lines, nodding with approval and prompting her once or twice.

"That was rather well done," she said at the end. "If you like, you may work on your story for a bit."

"May I really?" Miriam grinned up at her governess. "May I take my copybook away with me?"

Mana looked at her over her spectacles for a moment. "Where, exactly, do you want to go?" she asked.

"Nowhere that will bother anyone," Miriam said, meeting Mana's gaze steadily. "Honest, it's not in my room – you know, Simon's new room – or anything like that."

Mana looked at her in silence for a moment longer. She answered, "Very well."

Simon looked at a book in the library, sighed, and put it back. He picked out another one but it put it back as well, and he realized that he was bored. Neil was writing to his parents and his sisters, and the rain fell steadily outside, putting a stop to any plans to go anywhere.

He might as well do some prep for school. The thought was appalling, but at least it would make him feel virtuous, and it would be something to do that would keep him out of his mother's way for a while. He went up to his room and picked up a few of his schoolbooks.

Out in the hall, he heard his mother's voice as she called for him. As silently as he could, he scuttled down the hallway before she could see him. He chose one of the closed doors in the passage and slipped inside what looked like a guest bedroom. White sheets were tied over the furniture, and the long, thick curtains that hung in front of the windows cast the room into semi-darkness.

"Simon! Are you there? I want you to meet the vicar!" his mother called again. He crept to one of the windows and pulled back the curtain to reveal a low, cushioned window seat. Much to his surprise and displeasure, Miriam already sat there. The girl had a book on her lap and a pencil on one hand.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded.

"Shh!" He climbed onto the seat and drew the curtains closed behind him. A second later, they could hear the door as it opened. "Simon?" Aunt Theodosia trilled. He raised his finger to his lips and they both froze, and after a moment the door was closed again.

Simon and Miriam both let their breaths out at the same moment. "That was a near thing," he whispered.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed again. "This is my spot."

"Well, what are you doing?" he retorted, looking at her journal.

She firmly put the book behind her back and stared at him. "Nothing. Don't you have a house party coming, or a trip to the Bishop's Well, or a ball to go to?"

"Tea with the vicar," he answered glumly. "Look, I won't bother you. I just want to do some of my prep without my mother looking over my shoulder."

Miriam looked at him for a moment, and t she couldn't help giggling. He tried to keep a straight face, but when a loud snort escaped her, he began to laugh as well. "I'd have to get dressed for tea," he added, gasping, "in my velvet suit."

"I say!" she said. "Do you have a straw boater to go with that?"

"Get on out of it," he snarled, pretending to lunge at her. "If you ever see me in a straw boater, you just take that book there, and throw it as hard as you can at my head."

"Right-ho." Miriam wriggled on the seat cushion. "Shift over, can't you? You're taking up too much room."

"Sorry." He moved his books. There was a pause. "No, come on, what are you doing?" he asked again.

She hesitated, and asked, "Promise not to laugh?"

"Promise." He leaned forward.

"I'm writing a story."

"Are you really?" he said, impressed. "What's it about?"

Miriam explained about the princess in the tower made of ice and the wicked uncle.

"Gosh," he said. "Imaginative, aren't you? I could never make up things like that. How will you get her out of the tower?"

"I was wondering about that," Miriam admitted. "I think she'll have to make friends with the greyhound."

"And what's the secret that she holds?"

"Mmm, not sure about that either."

"Maybe her kingdom is being frozen as well by the uncle," Simon suggested.

"Of course! She could use her crystal scepter to melt the ice and save everyone."

"What crystal scepter?"

"Just something she found in a secret hiding place before she was walled up. Her godmother gave it to her when she was a baby, and her father hid it before he was killed..."

"...By the uncle, naturally. So she finds it, following the clues her father left her, and later she is captured by the forces of evil!" Simon warmed to the task as he spoke.

"Yes, exactly!" Miriam sat upright and grabbed her journal. "Let me just write that down." She took her pencil, which had grown rather blunt, and wrote furiously. Simon watched before he picked up one of his own books and opened it; he was soon absorbed in his own work.

Miriam looked up, and asked, "How about you? What are you reading?"

"Algebraic theory."

"Sounds deadly."

"You've got that right," he said with feeling. "Neil seems to understand it all though." He caught sight of her pencil. "Look at that splinter you're writing with! Give it to me, and I'll sharpen it."

"It is a bit stubby," Miriam admitted, handing it over. He seized it, took out a pocketknife, and began to sharpen the point. "There, that'll do!" she added, reaching for her pencil as the point grew sharper.

He held it back over his shoulder. "No, wait!" he insisted.

"I don't like it too sharp! Hand it over!" She reached for the pencil, but he turned away and continued to sharpen the point, which promptly broke under the pressure.

"There, now you see," she said. "You can't even use a penknife!"

His eyes narrowed, and shutting the knife with a flick, he threw the pencil back at her. "Here you are," he said, sitting up, "if you want it so badly."

"But there's no point left at all now!" Miriam exclaimed. "How can I finish my story?"

"You're the one who grabbed at it," he said. "It would have been fine if you had just let me sharpen it."

"It would have been fine," she argued, "if you had handed it back to me when I told you to."

"Don't be silly." He stuffed his books back in his bag. "I should have known better than to try and talk to a little idiot."

"I was here first!" she cried. "You're the one who barged in on me, you – interfering oaf!"

"This is the stupidest argument I have ever had!" he shouted.

The door opened, and instantly they were both quiet. Footsteps came forward quickly, and the curtains were swept back by a determined hand. They both looked up at Theodosia, whose mouth opened in shock.

"What on earth is going on here?" she demanded. Her face darkened in nasty contrast with the liver-colored satin she wore. "Simon! Why are you talking to that girl? Get out of there at once!" She hauled Simon to his feet with one hand. "Come with me. And you," she added to Miriam, "you are – you are–!" Words appeared to fail her.

Mana appeared at the doorway. "I will take care of Miriam, madam," she said.

"See that you do!" Theodosia snapped. She pulled Simon out of the room. He looked back at Miriam and made a hideous face at her, and she thrust her tongue out at him. Unfortunately, he was dragged away before he could see it.

Mana looked at Miriam without out speaking. Finally, the girl crossed her arms over her chest and muttered, "Sorry."

"What was that all about?" Mana asked.

"He sharpened my pencil too much," Miriam explained, holding the offending object up. "See? I couldn't write with it anymore."

"All that shouting was about a pencil?" Mana folded her arms. "Fifty lines for you tonight. Thirty for pulling a face like a little guttersnipe, and twenty for arguing over something ridiculous."

"It wasn't ridiculous!" Miriam bounded up from her seat. "I won't do lines! I was in the right!"

"Try this on for size," Mana said firmly. "If Mrs. Marchpane catches you acting like that again, it would be a good excuse for her to let me go and to hire another governess. You have a good imagination; just picture the teacher that your Aunt Theodosia would hire for you."

"But you could perform that mind control thing," Miriam argued. "You know... that mesmerizing trick that you pulled before."

"Yes, and exhaust myself for no reason, except your own obstinate nature. No fear."

Instantly, Miriam ran to her and clasped her arms around Mana's waist. "I'm sorry," she snuffled. "I'll do the lines, and I won't pull faces at Aunt Theodosia anymore."

Mana handed her a hankie. "Here. Blow your nose - and again," she added, after Miriam gave a feeble sniff. There was a thundering blow into the handkerchief.

Virgil knitted his brows and bent over the neat rows of figures in the most recent account book. He had added them up at least five times already, but he erased his totals and started to tot them up again. Even though he had already cut costs to the bone as much as possible, he wouldn't be able to run his new project for more than six months. And he still hadn't found the Device that he needed to keep the business going. He knew it had to be somewhere in the house. Where on earth could Pearson have hidden it?

Worriedly, he glanced at the growing pile of bills by his elbow, sent in by Theodosia for hats, cloaks and various dresses and suits. It was ridiculous. Here he was on the brink of doubling the company's profits, at least, and he couldn't afford to make the investment needed with the monies available to him. Pearson had been a bloody millionaire, and yet most of that cash was untouchable, tied up in trusts for his daughter.

The man had made sure of that, and now Virgil was going to have to let his glorious, moneymaking project die, at great personal cost, since he had sunk most of his own considerable income into it as well.

It was unthinkable! He straightened his shoulders and added up the numbers again.

The door to the study opened and Theodosia entered, wearing the liver-colored satin that she had donned for tea with the vicar. "That girl is outside of enough," she stated without preamble. "I found Simon brawling with her in a room upstairs! They were in the window seat together! It's all her influence of course. She is the one who has corrupted Simon. And why do you look so worried?"

"None of your concern," He looked sourly at the liver-colored frock, which must have put him back quite a touch. "Just can't see how we can get the project going with the money left to my disposal."

"Nonsense," Theodosia said, approaching the desk. "Surely you can find a way to skim off the current profits? Medicinals are going to be the thing of the future, and here we are, sitting on a virtual gold mine! Not to mention the Device."

"I have been considering the profits," Virgil said stiffly. "Even if I take more than I dare from the company's funds, I can't run the project for longer than half a year without alerting the Board to our concerns."

"And we don't want them involved," Theodosia said, frowning. "They'd hardly understand the delicate nature of our Concern. But, really! Pearson was an extremely rich man. He created the company with next to nothing and has been reaping profits with no real outlay ever since. Thanks to that Device, his shipping costs were practically nil. Can't we use his personal money?"

"It is all tied up in trust," Virgil said.

"For that girl!" Theodosia slapped one thin hand on the desk. "She has been nothing but a thorn in our sides since we arrived. Is there no way we can divert that income without those papers? What if she were to get sick –"

"It would all go to a society for feeding stray animals in that instance," Virgil said. "Pearson's attorney, Fortescue, says the will is quite clear on that point. We mustn't think about that."

"But is there no way we can control it?" Theodosia asked. "The situation is just too ridiculous! Once we start getting the profit from the new concern, we can replace what we took out of the girl's trust with no one being the wiser."

"Do you think that I haven't been over this a thousand times? No, there's no way around it. I'm going to have to conclude the project and withdraw the outlays of cash, with very heavy penalties."

"Ridiculous! No, we can't lose our own money; it's taking bread out of our own mouths! Not to mention Simon's inheritance."

Virgil raised his head suddenly and opened his mouth.

"Well, what is it?" she asked irritably. "Don't gape at me like a fish!"

"Simon," he repeated slowly.

"Well, what about him?"

Virgil drew close and gazed at her earnestly. "Just listen to me for a minute, Theodosia," he said. He began to explain what he had in mind.

Nelly, walking past the room that moment with a duster in her hand, heard Mrs. Marchpane shriek, "Are you out of your mind, Virgil? Absolutely not!"

Virgil repeated, "It is the only way. It would only be for a while! After things were all tidied up, she could, you know, be taken care of, and we wouldn't have to worry about the stray cats getting the money."

"Ridiculous!"

"We are talking about millions of pounds." Virgil leaned closer to her and murmured in her ear, "You could order a carriage to match every dress in your wardrobe, not to mention the profits we'll have in the meantime."

She stared ahead stonily, breathing through tightened nostrils. Finally she turned to him and asked, "You think it is the only way we can gain the money?"

"I am certain of it."

She sighed. At length, she nodded slightly.

He leaned back in the chair, a satisfied smile spreading across his features. "I'll start the process tomorrow," he said, "just as soon as I see Fortescue. Now, hand me that bottle of port, would you, my dear?"

## CHAPTER 11: The Impossible Island

A FEW DAYS later at breakfast, Mana announced that she would declare the day a holiday, and she and Miriam could take a packet of sandwiches down to the sea.

"The sea?" Miriam repeated. "But I've never been all the way down to the sand. My father always told Miss Osbourne that he wanted me to stay inside, or in the garden."

Mana was finishing a letter. She folded the neatly written pages, and took out a stick of red sealing-wax. "Is that so?" she murmured. "And sea air is so beneficial, too. What can he have been thinking to forbid it?"

"So I suppose that means that we can't go." A rebellious light kindled in Miriam's eyes.

"No, it doesn't." Mana firmly stamped the puddle of sealing wax on her letter with a huge seal hanging from her neck on a gold chain, and she waved the letter in the air to dry it. "Some rules are meant to be broken."

"Hurrah!" Miriam threw her copybook up in the air but missing it. The notebook fell on the ground, scattering a few loose sheets of paper covered with Miriam's rather sprawling hand.

"Pick that up at once," Mana said. "And pack up your drawing book; we'll take the opportunity to sketch some of the sea life."

Somewhat subdued, Miriam gathered up her pencils, and Mana went down to arrange a picnic lunch with Mrs. Williams. By the time she came back, Miriam was hopping from one foot to the other with suppressed excitement. "Can we go now?" she blurted out as soon as Mana entered the schoolroom.

"I suppose so," the governess replied. "Did you get your hat? No, I didn't think so. Meet me by the back portico."

A few minutes later, Miriam came flying down the stairs, hat in hand. Mana was waiting for her outside the back door. "You forgot your coat," Mana said as Miriam danced up to her. "And your gloves. Go on, no arguments."

Ready at last, they stepped out onto the little back vestibule, made of crumbling orange brick, and Mana pointed a large, black umbrella at the path that bisected the back gardens. "That takes us down to the sea, I believe."

"Yes, I think it does," Miriam said, and set off down the path, skipping and singing to herself. Mana followed more slowly, so Miriam was somewhat ahead of her by the time they reached the bottom of the garden. The path had a tiny gate there to separate the house from the woods and fields beyond.

Suddenly, Miriam stopped. "Did you hear that?" she asked, her eyes large in her face.

"It must be the wind," Mana said, giving her a quick prod. "On with you." They continued, but Miriam kept hearing something behind them. A branch snapped and the leaves rustled, followed by a muffled, "Shhhh!" Miriam darted a look at her governess. Mana's face was totally calm.

At the end of the woods, there was another gate. They opened it and were out in the fields that led to the sea. Mana set off towards the cliffs, but after a few moments she pulled Miriam back to where the trees bordered the pasture. "Just wait here one minute," she cautioned.

There were some quiet crashes in the woods, and Simon and Neil appeared at the gate. They climbed over it easily and jumped into the field.

"Hello," Mana propped her umbrella in the ground and leaned on it at a dashing angle.

Neil jumped when he saw her. "Oh! Hello."

"What are you doing?" Miriam stepped forward.

Mana cut off Simon's response, and said, "Isn't it obvious? Simon and Neil are coming down to the sea, just like we are. Would you like to walk with us, boys?"

"'Spose so," Simon muttered. Mana shouldered the umbrella like a soldier at a march and strode off towards the cliffs. Miriam and Simon shot after her, and Neil followed rather uncertainly.

They reached the stone steps with the "Giants' Needles," as Neil now called them. At the bottom of the steps, Miriam jumped onto the sand and ran over to the rock pools to see if there were any anemones.

"Take off your shoes and stockings," Mana ordered, putting the picnic basket on the widest, flattest rock.

"May I really?" Miriam instantly started to untie her bootlaces and drag off her stockings. Simon watched for a minute and began to remove his shoes as well.

"It smells gorgeous down here." Miriam sniffed rapturously.

Mana tilted her face back and closed her eyes. "That smell always reminds me of home," she said.

"Where do you come from?" Simon asked. Something prompted him to add, with more politeness, "If you don't mind the question."

"From those islands over there." Mana pointed out at the sea, and Miriam screwed up her eyes and strained to see. They could just see two faint white smudges on the horizon, one smaller than the other. An anomaly of the salt air and the distance of the reef made them appear to float in the air over the dark sea.

"I never knew those were there." Miriam was astonished.

"I thought you came from near the West Indies," Neil said, frowning. "And, what on earth are those islands? I have never seen them on any nautical chart."

"Perhaps they are only there for the day," Mana answered calmly.

"Only there for the day! Well, how can that be?" Neil asked. "Islands don't move around from one latitude to another!"

"No, you're right, of course. But perhaps sometimes latitudes can be moved."

Neil frowned. "That's impossible," he said. "Latitudes are imaginary lines, drawn in an arbitrary grid. They can't move."

"No, they can't," Mana said. "You're quite right. But perhaps the location they represent can, with the right kind of energy or the right device."

"The right device," Simon echoed. "That sounds familiar – where have I heard that before?"

"Are they really your islands, Mana?" Miriam asked.

"Yes, indeed they are," Mana said. "Look closely at them. Something tells me they might not be there tomorrow."

"Gosh," Simon said. "What wouldn't I give to visit them!"

"What did you call the island?" Simon said. "Lampland?"

"Lampala," Mana said, smiling. "That is our name for it. Your father called it the big star, and the small island was the little star."

"I overheard my father say that once," Miriam agreed.

"I've heard that before too," Simon agreed. "Big Star and Little Star Islands. What was it – Lampala?" He stumbled over the strange word.

Miriam asked, "What is the name of Little Star in your language?"

"Mixiamani," Mana replied.

"That's from that song you sang to me, the first night you came here!" Miriam said excitedly.

Mana smoothed the girl's hair. "Well spotted," she said. "Now, why don't the three of you go and look for specimens?" She produced two nets and a couple of jam jars, and handed them to Simon and Miriam. "I'll expect you to draw the biggest thing you catch."

Feeling rather shy, Miriam, Simon and Neil walked over to the rock pools and began to poke at the various life forms in them. Miriam and Simon began to argue, however, when Simon found a crab and Miriam jumped beside him with her net to catch it, only to jostle it into the water.

"Now look what you've done," he said, his dark eyebrows twitching together.

"Oh, we'll find something better," Neil said. "Look – see! There's a huge starfish!"

Simon instantly wielded the net and managed to get it into the largest jar. He picked it up and looked at it from the bottom, and Miriam recoiled.

"Bleugh," she said. "Look at its disgusting legs, and those little wiggly things in its center. If we don't find something larger, I'm going to have to draw that. Come on!"

"Put the jar in the water while you look," Mana ordered from the side, "to keep him cool. You'll need to refresh the water from time to time as well."

Simon put the jar into the rock pool and began to poke at a limpet, which instantly clamped its shell tightly onto the rock. "You'll never get it off now," Miriam said. "Come on, I'm going to look for prawns." She climbed up onto the rocks and picked her way between the rock pools, feeling the way with her damp, bare feet on the stones. Simon and Neil followed her carefully, and they knelt by one of the deeper pools and peered into it.

Miriam's hair fell into her face and she pushed it out of the way. "Look!" she said. "There's a prawn!" Instantly, Simon was fishing in the water with his net, and he managed to snare the crustacean and pop it into another jam jar.

"You're good at that," Miriam said unwillingly.

"Thanks," Simon said, looking up at her in surprise. "Watch, I'll get you another!"

Miriam leaned forward to see the hunt, and after some time Simon managed to catch three or four wiggly specimens.

"Come and have some food!" Mana called, and they headed back with their prizes to where a picnic was laid out. Neil hung back and pretended interest in a group of winkles, but Mana said to him, "Come on, plenty for everybody. I think Cook gave us potted shrimps and Scotch eggs, as well as sausage and cress sandwiches." She held out a loaded plate, which he took with alacrity.

"I never went on a picnic before," he confided, stuffing a huge bite into his mouth and chewing madly. "This is really good!"

"It's the sea air." Mana forked up a bit of shrimp.

"I'm starving," Miriam added. "May I have more sandwiches?"

"Say please, Miriam," Mana said.

"Please, Miriam," Miriam retorted, causing Simon to snort into his sandwich, and she instantly began to laugh as if she had said the funniest joke in the world.

"Don't get cheeky," Mana said, leaning back against a rock. "Will your parents miss you, Simon? Should you think of getting back soon?"

"Father's in his study, and Mother went to town to order a new dress," he replied. The seawater had slopped down the front of his shirt and a patch of green slime now adorned one knee of his rolled-up trousers.

"When do you both go back to school?" Mana asked Simon and Neil.

"In a few weeks, worse luck," Simon responded, eyeing the last Scotch egg.

She handed it to him. "Not looking forward to it?"

"Well, you never look forward to school. I mean –" He suddenly remembered she was a teacher.

Mana laughed. "It's all right," she said. "Any good friends there? Besides Neil, of course," she added.

"Some. Neil doesn't like it at school, though."

"Shut up!" Neil punched Simon in the stomach.

"Ow!" Simon yelled. "See how he mistreats me, Miss Postulate? I don't see why I put up with him, do you?"

"Because of my fantastic brains," Neil said. "You crib off my essays; go on, you can admit it." Miriam, who had started to sketch the prawn, laughed.

"Why don't you like school, Neil?" Mana asked. She poured a cup of tea from a stone bottle and balanced it on her knee while she screwed the lid back on.

"He's on a scholarship," Simon explained. "A lot of the chaps don't like him for that. They think he's a charity case."

"Is that true, Neil?" Mana asked.

"I suppose so," Neil mumbled.

"They wouldn't talk to him for months," Simon went on. "It wasn't until he started beating them all in cards, and winning all their money, that they started to tolerate him."

"I don't know that you should tell me anything about that," Mana said, smiling. Her teeth were very white against her dark skin, and both boys smiled back.

"Remember when you won that chess game against Bartleby Minor?" Simon asked, nudging Neil.

"Bartleby thought he had the perfect opening," Neil explained. "Simon put up the funds for me to play, and –"

" –And you beat him hollow," Simon finished. "Won ten guineas over that, too. But do you know that Neil was more excited about solving an equation in three less steps than Old Wilkins."

"Our math tutor," Neil explained.

"I think it's about time to go back, Miriam. You three can release the prawn and the starfish, and I'll pack up the picnic basket." Mana began to pack the stone jug and picnic things in her basket.

"But I wanted to bring the starfish to school!" Simon said. "I can use it to frighten the life out of the chaps!"

"It would die long before that." Mana answered. "Absolutely not."

Miriam, Simon, and Neil walked over to the pool and tilted the jar into the water, and the animal instantly slithered out. "Is she always like that?" Simon asked.

"Like what?" Miriam asked.

"Well – you have to obey what she says, don't you? It's just sort of the way she says it."

Miriam relaxed. "I know just what you mean," she answered. She squinted at the prawn and poured him out into the pool in a flurry of legs and antennae.

Mana was waiting with the basket, a neatly folded rug and her umbrella. "You'd better head back first, Simon," she said matter-of-factly, "and we'll follow at a safe distance, after Miriam picks up her sketching things."

"Um," Simon said, "would you mind very much if we showed Miriam something? We will bring her back safely. Promise." Neil looked at him in surprise, and Simon jerked his head at the cliff wall.

"Oh?" Mana raised one eyebrow.

"We just want to find some more shells," Neil offered and received a push from Simon. "What was that for? She could sketch them."

"You can leave the jars and nets," Simon said. "We'll bring them up for you when we come up."

"I think that would be safe enough. Don't take too long, now." Mana handed the items to him and walked over to the stone steps.

"Are you really going to give me more things to draw? I'm hopeless as it is." Miriam picked up a shell, examined it, and tossed it back onto the sand.

Simon waited until Mana was out of sight. He hissed, "No, of course we won't look for shells. That's for babies and old ladies. Come and see something we found on the cliff wall."

Neil shot off across the sand towards the cliff wall. Simon must have wanted to be the first to show Miriam the strange circles, and he did his best to elbow Neil out of the way. "Have you ever noticed the silver circles on the cliff over here? Do you know why they are there, or what purpose they have?" Miriam shook her head.

"What the devil...?" Neil pointed.

The circles were not flush with the rock any longer. They now stood out an inch or so from the cliff. Simon peered at them. He prodded one with a forefinger, yelled, and jumped back.

"What? What happened?" Neil said. Simon was sucking on his finger and cursing.

"Bloody hell! The thing shocked me!" Simon forgot his language in his excitement.

"What?!" Miriam instantly reached for one of the circles, and Simon pushed her hand away with another curse.

"Don't, you fool! Those things are live with – some sort of electrical current!"

Miriam put his hand down, but she peered closely at the ring of circles. "Have you ever seen those before?" Neil repeated. "Last time we were here, they were flush with the cliff wall, and they didn't have an electrical current. What are they?"

"Honestly, I have no idea." Miriam screwed up her eyes and peered at them. "My father never allowed me to come to the sea, even though we live so close by. Did they really change since the last time you saw them?"

"Yes," Simon replied. Other than protruding from the rock, there was no other change in the circles. They weren't glowing, or humming, and the rock wall hadn't altered in the least.

"There has to be some kind of apparatus somewhere that controls them," Neil mused. "We didn't see anything here. Maybe up above, on the cliff?"

Simon looked at him for a moment and dashed for the stairs. Neil cursed, eyed Miriam, muttered an apology. They both ran after Simon as quickly as they could.

At the top of the Giant's Needles, the three of them looked around. There was nothing to be seen, however, beyond a lot of gorse bushes and the patch of trees. "It's a mystery," Simon said.

"Well, we'll just have to get to the bottom of it," Miriam responded.

The three of them grinned at each other.

## CHAPTER 12: What Was in the Closet?

MRS. WILLIAMS GAVE the dough a few more slaps and pushes for good measure, and set it into a huge blue-rimmed bowl to rise. She sighed and wiped her floury hands and forearms on her apron.

Nelly, who was pouring a cup of tea from the huge pot on the table, echoed the sigh. "Have a cup, Missis?" She handed it to Mrs. Williams, who took it and sat at the large wooden table.

"That's the bread done." The cook had a long swallow of tea. "I'll just put out elevenses, and I've got to dress those ducks, order the veg for next week, and make some pudding for the Upstairs."

"Isn't it a saint's own list I have meself?" Nelly poured a cup for herself. She eyed the cook, but Mrs. Williams was not looking at her. She seemed to be intent on some inner thoughts of her own, narrowing her eyes in reflection. Greatly daring, Nelly lowered herself onto a chair and took a long slurp of tea.

"I've done me beds, and me fireplaces, but I still have the smalls to collect and send to the washing. And those children are that hard on their smalls, Mrs. Williams, I'll have you know. And the mistress wants me to sort out the cupboards in the rooms – which rooms she didn't say."

"Mmm," Mrs. Williams said, not really heeding.

"And she says that I'm to rearrange but not move any of the contents. How am I to manage it, would you please inform me of that, Mrs. Williams? Rearrange, but not move! Did you ever!" Nelly snorted. "Thank goodness, Miss Miriam is off with her governess, and the young fellas are nowhere to be found."

She drank another long gulp of hot tea. It was nice in the kitchen, she thought, at least when Mrs. Williams didn't rant and roar. The sun streamed in through the window, and the clock on top of the dresser ticked loudly.

A loud rap on the window startled the two women, and Nelly gave a faint shriek. "Lord bless us and save us!" She spilled half her tea into her saucer.

Outside the window, a gap-toothed face grinned in at them. It was George, who was outside doing the stable and helping the gardeners.

Mrs. Williams opened the window and roared at him, "Don't you know how to use a door?"

George propped his arms on the window ledge. "Aye, but I couldn't help seeing the beauty of you two fine ladies through the glass." He winked at Nelly.

"Away with you," she replied, secretly delighted.

"Just a quick cuppa." His smile broadened. "Come on, missus, pity the poor afflicted."

"Afflicted is right," Mrs. Williams grumbled, but she heaved her large form to its feet and put a currant bun on a plate. "Here, take that and get on with your work, young George. And you, Nelly, I'm sure you have many better things to be doing than dreaming at the kitchen table."

"Like waiting hand and foot on Old Walking Stick?" George said.

"Old who?" Mrs. Williams poured out another cup and handed it to him through the window. "Drink up quickly, now, and give me back my cup."

"Old Walking Stick," George repeated, through a mouthful of bun. "So-called because he looks like he swallowed a walking stick and it be coming out the other end."

Mrs. Williams flung her dishtowel at him, and Nelly gave a shriek. "You, bold, dirty, filthy article!" she squealed.

"That's enough. I've had it with the two of you. Give me your cups, and go and do some work for a change. Yes, you, too, Nelly. I have the supper to get ready." Mrs. Williams snatched the cup and the plate back from George as he crammed the last of the bun into his mouth, crossed his eyes, and walked away.

Nelly giggled again and scurried upstairs.

Armed with a duster, she began with Miriam's new room. She opened the drawers and noted with approval that the contents were folded with mathematical neatness. Nelly closed the drawers, and went to the small cupboard.

Miriam's clothes, all spotlessly clean and ironed, hung from hooks in a neat row. Well! Nelly thought. That governess may look like a heathen, but she keeps Miss Miriam's things tidier than many would in her place.

She went to close the door, but the large chest caught her eye. She frowned for a moment. She was fairly certain that the new missus wanted her to perform a search.

She glanced at the doorway. No, there was no one else there. Should she leave the room and respect the girl's privacy? She remembered Miss Miriam pulling faces at her on the stairs, among numerous other insults she had received over the years from the child. Besides, she was curious to see what was kept in there.

She went and closed the door firmly, turned the key, and opened the lid of the chest. What in the name of God was that? Nelly reached into the chest and pulled out the Crown Phoenix machine. The heavy device made her stagger, but her curiosity got the better of her.

The light was better by the window. Nelly brought it to the broad windowsill. She brushed her hands over the keys. She pushed one key down with her finger. It seemed to make the thing come alive. There was a hum and a whirr from within.

Nelly shrieked and nearly dropped the typing ball. Her hands shook as she lifted it from the sill and carried it back to the chest. The thing still whirred, and she pushed several other keys to try and get it to stop. "Oh Lord!" she sobbed to herself. "If they find out that I lifted that yolk I'll lose my position and no bones about it!"

After a few more tries she closed the lid of the chest on the thing. Perhaps, if she left the room now and did her other tasks, someone else would get the blame. Maybe Miriam would be punished for it, but the girl didn't have a widowed mother and eight brothers and sisters depending on her paypacket.

Her heart thumped in her chest as she closeted the ball and left the room. What sort of infernal device was it? Nelly didn't know, but she vowed never to touch it again.

## CHAPTER 13: Virgil's New Partner

LESSONS ON THE following Friday finished early with no lines to memorize so Mana could get Miriam ready to meet Mr. Cantwell. Miriam, who had actually begun to enjoy learning poetry, complained as Mana vigorously brushed her hair, "But why can't I do my lines? It's not as if anyone wants me down there really, except maybe Neil. Or perhaps, Simon." Her voice jerked as Mana brushed through the black curls; luckily, the comb came from the Lampala islands and had wide, long teeth that didn't tug on her hair.

Miriam craved that comb as soon as she saw it. The comb was made of hard Bolemor wood that had darkened with age, and the top was carved into a pattern that looked like wind, or waves, inlaid with what Mana said were small, round shells. Miriam, however, pretended to herself that they were actually pearls. Although, anyone could have told her that pearls that large, and that lustrous, would have been worth a king's ransom.

"You would have been happy enough about missing your lines a few weeks ago," Mana commented mildly, putting the comb down and gathering the long, black hair up in one hand. She rapidly braided Miriam's mane, twisting the strands into an intricate pattern behind the girl's head.

"May I please wear your comb on top of my head like a conquistador's lady?"

"Absolutely not. There. Now, let's see how presentable you are - yes, you look quite nice and tidy. Off you go."

"Can't I look at the back of my head with two mirrors?"

"No. There's not enough time. Dinner will start in fifteen minutes."

"Can't you come down for dinner too?"

"Certainly not."

Miriam dared to take one peek in the glass as she was shepherded to the door. The curls were already escaping from the braid around her face, and her legs seemed to be rapidly growing longer. She was certain that she looked like a fright. "How do you stay so neat all the time?" she asked.

"By not asking questions and doing what I'm told," Mana answered. "Go on, out with you."

Downstairs, Furnace opened the drawing room door for her. Uncle Virgil was standing behind Theodosia's chair, a glass in his hand as usual, and a stranger sat opposite them on a sofa. Miriam could see the back of his head, which looked sleek and polished. Simon and Neil were side by side, balanced on the edge of an uncomfortable settee.

Theodosia, uncharacteristically, was smiling at something the stranger was saying to her in a confidential murmur, but as Miriam entered the room everyone stopped and turned around. Simon looked at her, and his eyes widened. I'm not that hideous, Miriam thought. Neil just gave her a quick thumbs-up.

"And this is Miriam," Theodosia volunteered.

"Our little ward," Virgil added, swirling the liquid in his glass. "Come and sit down, my dear."

"Hello, Miriam," the stranger said, smiling. He patted the sofa beside him. "At last. I have been looking forward to meeting you. Won't you sit down here beside me?"

Miriam sat down on a hard cushion as far from the stranger as possible. Oh, well, she thought resignedly, the torture will be over in a few hours. Still, Mr. Cantwell, for that was how he introduced himself, was very nice to her, and his eyes smiled into hers as he inquired how she was.

"I'm very well, thank you," Miriam answered. She breathed a sigh of relief as the adults turned back to each other and continued their conversation. Still, Mr. Cantwell continually turned to her to include her in his comments. "I was just saying that the sea air nearby seems to be doing some good for your aunt and uncle, is it not? Don't they both look well? As well as their son, of course."

Since there was no polite answer to this, Miriam merely raised the corners of her mouth. "Please, Mr. Cantwell," Theodosia said, inserting herself back into the conversation, "tell us about your home. Where do you live?" Her hand went up to the tightly rolled cushions of her hair, and Miriam realized that Aunt Theodosia found Mr. Cantwell very attractive.

"My home, such as it is," he answered, "is the one place where I can truly be myself. Wouldn't you agree with that, Miriam? My sister lives there with me, and I speak for us both, when I say that it would be my extreme pleasure for her to meet such charming company." He inclined his head as he spoke and smiled at Theodosia, and her cheeks grew pink.

"The pleasure would be ours, dear fellow." Virgil throttled the decanter and pouring some red liquid into three glasses.

Theodosia touched her lips to her glass and put it back on one small glass table. "Where did you work before you came to Pearson's, Mr. Cantwell?"

"My last company wasn't nearly as good as this one," Mr. Cantwell replied. "It is a pleasure to work with a man of the future like Marchpane." Uncle Virgil grew rather pink as well and began to bluster, and Miriam made silent gagging noises. On the settee, unseen by his parents, Simon rolled his eyes and held his nose.

"True vision is so hard to find, as I'm sure Miriam will discover for herself one day," Mr. Cantwell continued. "Is that not so, Miriam?"

"I suppose so."

"Wait until you're spoken to before you speak yourself," Theodosia muttered. Miriam wanted to retort that she had been spoken to, but that might have reflected back on Mana. On the whole, it was easier to sit and be quiet and hope to be ignored.

"And do you have any other family, Cantwell?" Virgil asked.

"None to mention," the man replied, "not like yourselves, with such a charming familial group." He waved his hand to motion at Simon and Miriam. "Alas, my sister and I are alone in the world."

"And is your sister married?" Virgil crossed one long leg over the other.

"Really, Virgil," Theodosia said in her snapping tone, "our guest will think we are interrogating him." She smiled at Mr. Cantwell as she spoke.

He laughed, exposing a lot of very white, even teeth. "Oh, now, you are to feel free to ask as many questions as you like. I am here on suffrage, am I not? It is a wise man that listens to his wife in business, and I hope that Miriam remembers that in the future, when the lucky man who wins her heart claims her as his bride."

Miriam colored and looked down at her toes. She knew she was going to hear all about the winning of her, later on from Simon and Neil. They would expound on the poor fool who won her heart too, she was certain. She didn't dare glance at them. Neil would make her laugh.

"Do you not agree?" With a start, she realized that Mr. Cantwell had spoken to her and was waiting for her answer.

"Oh, I–" What would Mana say? She would be polite and tactful, that was certain; Miriam could try to do the same. "I do indeed," she replied. "How well you put it."

Theodosia looked at her in astonishment, and she gazed back at her guardian. "Miriam," Theodosia said, "I think perhaps that it is time that you went back to the schoolroom." She snapped her lips closed after this pronouncement.

"To the schoolroom?" Mr. Cantwell crinkled his eyes with amusement. "But I thought were a young debutante at the very least! I was going to ask you to play for us after dinner!" He laughed, and Theodosia's smile became forced.

"No, I really must insist," she said. "Young girls must get their rest and not bother their elders."

A host of angry replies came to Miriam's tongue, but she bit them back. "Very well, Aunt Theodosia." She got to her feet and turned for the door, realizing that Mr. Cantwell had risen with her.

As she closed the door behind her, she heard him say, "Charming, really! Some day she'll be a –" The end of the sentence was cut off by Theodosia's usual expostulations.

Miriam climbed the stairs, relieved that she wouldn't have to stay and listen to her aunt's conversation during a long, formal dinner. The cheek!

Of course, Simon and Neil had to stay and talk to that pompous ass. She giggled and pictured the conversation going on downstairs. Perhaps Cantwell, at this very moment, was calling them the Young Masters. Maybe, she hoped, Simon was now getting the lecture and question treatment from Mr. Cantwell.

Still, something bothered her. As she slowly clumped up the stairs, she remembered that for all the questions he had been asked, Mr. Cantwell had never really answered them. He had talked a great deal, but he never revealed any information about himself.

## CHAPTER 14: Mr. Cantwell Acts in a Suspicious Manner

"YOUR ESSAY ON Hadrian is well-written," Mana said, "but it lacks some polish. You need to back up your theories with more facts; for example, to support this thought, you might add a quotation from your history book."

The sun shone in through the window on her smooth black hair. Miriam leaned her cheek on one hand as she considered her paper and Mana's suggestions.

The governess handed the paper and the book to Miriam. The girl picked up her pen, thought for a minute, and composed a new paragraph in her mind. She stared out at the neat lawns, not really seeing them. In her mind, she pictured the Roman soldiers shivering beside one of the many gates in the wall.

She sat up. Through the window, Uncle Virgil and Mr. Cantwell walked into her line of vision, heading for the park on the side of the house. Mana, picking up another book from the table where they did lessons, glanced at Miriam and followed her gaze.

The two men were heading off, followed by one of the gardeners acting as gun-keeper by shouldering the rifles and a selection of bags. The two hunters were talking to each other and laughing.

Mana stood up and walked over to the window, beckoning for Miriam to follow.

"Be careful of that one," Mana said softly, pointing to the new partner. "Your uncle is easy to follow, as he takes things for granted and makes many assumptions. But Mr. Cantwell..."

There was a creak outside in the hallway, and Mana quickly went to the door and looked outside. "No one," she announced. Still, she closed the door behind her.

"Where are they going now?" Miriam wondered. "Oh, I see, they're heading for the park." Her guardian and his partner disappeared into the thick trees, followed awkwardly by the gardener, who kept dropping the bags. Miriam and Mana watched for a moment, but nothing else happened.

"Essay." Mana returned to the table. Miriam sighed and sat down, and the history lesson continued. Eventually, the essay was reworded to Mana's satisfaction, and she set Miriam to copying it out.

Lunch was sent up, and Miriam thankfully put her pen down. She loved writing when it came to stories, but when she had to pay attention to penmanship, her hand seemed to rebel and cause as many blots as possible.

Mana poured tea for herself and Miriam and put down the pot. "Here he is again," she said calmly. Miriam looked up from her plate, and flew to the window in time to see Mr. Cantwell coming out of the woods. He stopped and peered over one shoulder. Mana, who had appeared behind Miriam, put one hand on her shoulder and drew her back into the folds of the curtain.

"Be careful," she said, pointing at the man. Cantwell, appearing to be satisfied that no one could see him, left the park and headed for the back of the house. He craned his neck from side to side as he walked, appearing to check on something, and nodded his head to himself as if he were satisfied with what he saw.

"Secretive and careful," Mana said. "And intelligent, which is the most dangerous thing."

"Mana, can you do that thing to him like you did with those two, and make him reveal everything that he knows?" Miriam asked.

Mana laughed. "I suppose I could, if I wanted to play my entire hand right at the start," she said. "For the moment, I'm content to stand back and watch. People reveal themselves when they are certain of their outcome before it happens."

"Is that why you came here? To watch out for my guardians and that man?" Miriam demanded.

"I came here to take care of you, as you well know. Still, it is interesting that Mr. Cantwell left your uncle behind in the woods."

"But what's going on?" Miriam whispered loudly, forgetting to add, "And he's not my uncle."

"I'm not quite sure yet. Whoops – here comes your uncle." Through the glass, they saw Virgil and the gardener appear out of the trees; Virgil put his hands to his mouth and halloed, obviously calling for Cantwell. He stopped after a bit and turned to the gardener, appearing to berate him by gesticulating wildly and pushing one finger into the man's chest. After listening for a minute or two without expression, the gardener dumped his load of guns and bags at Virgil's feet, turned, and walked away. His back plainly said, 'Right, I'm off.'

Virgil let his mouth open in disbelief, before he began to shout again. His face turned a bright purple with his efforts. The gardener continued out of sight, ignoring Virgil. Miriam snorted with mirth into her fist.

Mana stood up and said, "A very interesting little scene. Now, finish your lunch."

"Are you going to keep an eye on them all?" Miriam asked, sitting down and picking up her knife.

Mana sat opposite her. "Listen, Miriam; for the moment, forget about what we saw today. As far as you're concerned, I'm simply a governess."

"But what is –" Mana shushed her again and drew Miriam's original essay towards her. She wrote something in the margin and slid it back across the table.

Miriam read, I am watching your guardians closely.

Why? Miriam wrote back.

Something is going on.

They're doing something?

Yes.

Something to do with me?

No.

Something to do with my dad?

Yes.

With his company?

Yes.

Is it happening in the house?

In a way...

Is there anything I can do to stop it?

No. Not now.

Does it have anything to do with Lampala?

Yes.

And if you find out what it is, will you leave?

Mana read the question and looked at Miriam over the top edge of the essay, as if uncertain of what to say. Finally, she put down the paper and began to write, but loud footsteps sounded in the hall, headed their way. With smooth movements, Mana tore the sheet into quarters and went over to the fireplace. She threw the pieces in and poked them into the heart of the flames, just as Theodosia opened the door to the schoolroom.

"What's going on in here?"

"Lessons, madam." Mana turned from the fire with a look of genteel surprise.

"Do you really need a fire during the day? Seems like a waste of coal to me." Theodosia looked suspiciously at the hearth.

"It was a bit chilly this morning," Miriam offered, looking up from the book she had seized when her aunt walked into the room.

Theodosia sniffed, peered at the books on the table, and said, "Miriam is to come down for tea again this afternoon. Do her hair properly today, please; I don't want her looking as wild as she did yesterday."

"Very well," Mana said, but Theodosia had already closed the door.

Miriam rose from her seat, her indignation expanding her chest. "That old –"

"Stop it." Mana pointed to the unfinished lunch. "Eat your bread, and you may work on your story for a bit."

Miriam brightened. "Right," she said. She was working on a description of a kingdom of dragonflies that were waging a war against an army of wasps, and she had reached the most exciting part – the dragonfly princess was going to disguise herself as a soldier so she could go to war and help her kingdom. She bent her head over her plate, dreaming of buzzing over ponds grown as huge as oceans, the sun flashing off her green and silver wings.

At tea that afternoon, Miriam continued the tactic of being polite and as quiet as possible. She hid her amusement as Cantwell apologized for getting lost in the park and not getting any game. "I am such an idiot about directions," he said, throwing a melting look at Theodosia. "Maybe you could walk me around the estate tomorrow."

"Oh, why, certainly," Theodosia said.

"Such a delightful stay I'm having," he said. "I don't know when I've felt more relaxed! I only wish I could – well, perhaps not."

"What is it?" Theodosia asked, putting down her cup and saucer. "You need only ask."

She fancies him, Miriam thought, watching the concerned way Theodosia looked into Cantwell's eyes.

"I was just going to say that, I wish I could intrude on your hospitality and invite my sister here for a stay when I return," Cantwell continued, holding out his glass for Virgil to refill it. "I know she'd be delighted to meet you."

"But I would love to meet your sister!" Theodosia exclaimed. "Wouldn't we, Virgil?"

"Of course, dear fellow," Virgil said, sloshing liquid into his own glass.

Watching them, Miriam thought with a rising tide of exultation that Mana was wrong; they were all pretty stupid. All she and Mana had to do was to sit tight and watch them closely, and soon they'd reveal what they wanted.

She looked at Simon, who was nudging Neil. He saw Miriam and rolled his eyes at her, plainly intimating, "Oh, no, not another one."

Miriam felt a surge of liking for him, and grinned. He grinned back at her. He reverted to his usual bored attitude as his mother eyed him and Miriam suspiciously.

## CHAPTER 15: What Miriam Found in the Study

"MANA," MIRIAM ASKED, putting down her pen, "do you think Simon is a fathead?"

"I do not," Mana responded instantly, "even if such a word were in my vocabulary."

Miriam picked up her pen again and sucked the cap thoughtfully. "No, I don't either," she said finally, "although I don't understand it."

"What's that?"

"Well, how could two such complete idiots have a relatively nice son? I mean, you'd think he'd be the same kind of idiot as Uncle Virgil, only smaller and younger of course, but he's not. A complete idiot, that is."

"Well, he has a nice friend," Mana said, echoing Miriam's thoughts. "You can tell a lot from someone's friends. And maybe he's learned a lot at his school. Look at you – you were acting like a savage when I first arrived, and now I can almost state that you're civilized."

Miriam grinned at her. "All your wonderful influence, of course," she said.

"Of course."

Miriam returned to her journal and added, Perhaps it won't be so bad living with these guardians of mine. I was furious when they came, and I still do not like Aunt Theodosia, but Uncle Virgil is just silly. And Simon is all right, really. And Mana is right – Neil is very nice. Still, I'm going to keep watching that partner, to see if he leaves any clues. Clues to what, she wasn't certain, but she was certain that she'd find something.

Simon and Neil were playing cards in the room that they shared, but Simon had grown bored, as usual, with the game. "You always win," he complained.

"Well, if you'd keep your mind on the suits and follow what has been played, you could win. Or at least do a bit better," Neil added. "Another game? Maybe you can get back at me this time."

"Not bloody likely," Simon said. He flopped back on the bed and gazed at the ceiling.

"Want to go down to the cliff and see what's going on with those circles?"

"Nothing's going on with them," Simon said. "We go down those steps once or twice a day, and nothing ever happens. They were sticking out that one day, but ever since that day, they've been back in place."

"You're right," Neil said, pulling out a piece of paper that was covered with his neat handwriting in a long list. "Look, I've kept a log of the times we went down there, as well as what we observed. That one afternoon was the only time the circles were sticking out from the stone, or had distended, or whatever it is that they do. I feel, though, that we should keep observing them in a methodical fashion..."

Simon lifted one leg in the air and let it fall heavily back on the mattress, huffing out a long, loud sigh as he did so. He sat up. "I tell you what," he said, "how about if we go and see what Miriam's doing?"

"Oh!" Neil said, surprised. "Well, I suppose we could. She's probably at lessons, though."

"That's all right." Simon bounded off the bed. "Her governess won't mind two more young inquisitive minds."

Outside the schoolroom door, however, he lost a bit of his confidence. It was closed in a forbidding fashion, which made him hesitate.

"Well?" Neil asked. "Do we stand here all day, or are you going in?"

"Um, that is – it might be a good idea to knock first." Simon raised his fist and rapped twice.

Mana opened it and said, "Hello, Simon. Hello Neil."

She didn't seem surprised to see them, Simon reflected. In fact, he couldn't remember ever seeing the governess at a loss. Behind her, Miriam gaped at them with a large drop of ink from her pen about to blot her copybook.

"Hello," Simon said. "We – that is, Neil and myself – we weren't doing anything at the moment, and so we thought we might come and visit. See what's going on in the lessons, that is."

"We can leave if you prefer," Neil added.

Mana smiled and opened the door wider. "As it happens, we are almost finished for the day," she said. "Now, why is it that you want to visit a schoolroom during your holidays?"

"Well!" Simon said. "We weren't doing anything in particular. Just sort of knocking about, you know."

"You've already said that. Blast." Miriam's pen dripped, and she covered her writing with a sheet of blotting paper.

"Er, yes. Yes, I did. Well, nothing wrong with listening in to a lesson or two, is there? Could always use some more information up there in the old noggin!"

Neil frowned. "The old noggin?" he repeated. Miriam giggled.

"Oh, forget it," Simon mumbled. "Come on, Neil, let's go."

"Why not stay since you're here?" Mana said. "Miriam is almost finished her journal, aren't you, Miriam? And maybe after she has finished, we may all go for a walk."

"I'm writing about how you aren't really so bad," Miriam said.

"Who, me?" Simon said.

"Yes," Miriam said, looking at him directly. "When I first met you, I thought you were just like your parents. But now, I think you might be all right. Normal, even."

"Oh, well is that so?" Simon said. "Thank you for your very kind opinion of me! And what is wrong with my parents?" He collapsed suddenly on a chair near the table. "No, don't answer that. I know exactly what's wrong with them. Mother's a frightful snob, and Father can't keep her in line. He lets her get away with the most embarrassing scenes, because he's afraid of her, I think. I can hardly believe they let me have Neil here to stay."

"They're quite awful," Miriam stated. "I thought my father was bad, but really he was just nonexistent, until he died, that is. But your parents take the prize for awfulness."

"Stop it at once or write lines," Mana said with great firmness. "There is absolutely no need to discuss someone else's parents. Why the problem with bringing Neil here to stay, Simon? You're a fellow student at Simon's school, aren't you, Neil?"

"Just because I won a scholarship," Neil said. "Otherwise, I'd be working with my father and mother at the docks."

"That's good," Miriam said. "I've never won anything. I hope I can publish a story one day, though."

"Why not show them that story you're writing," Mana said. "You know, the story about the dragonfly warrior and the wasp's chessboard."

Miriam's mouth dropped open. "Don't!" she protested, but Simon and Neil were now interested.

"You write stories?" Neil said. "That's clever. I like to read, but anything I write is utterly foul. What's this one about?"

"What happened at the end of that one you were writing before?" Simon demanded, interrupting. "You know, with the frozen tower?"

Miriam couldn't help flushing with pleasure that he'd remembered. "Oh, just what you suggested," she said off-handedly. "The princess had to save the kingdom from being frozen by the uncle by making friends with the greyhound."

"Hold on just a second," Neil said. "What happened?"

"Oh, there was a princess, in a tower, which was frozen, being held by her uncle –"

"Anyone for a chocolate biscuit?" Mana produced a tin.

"Gosh, thanks," Simon said. "Maybe we could help you find botanical specimens to draw again today when we go out, if it stops raining. How about it, Neil?"

"Lead on," Neil answered with enthusiasm. "When it comes to specimens, I'm the king."

"You're a specimen all right," Simon shot back.

That night at dinner, Theodosia insisted that Miriam join them. The girl was dressed in a new black dress, despite her protests. Mana, of course, was relegated to the schoolroom with a tray, but the governess, as usual, made no complaint. Virgil joined them in the dining room, just as they were sitting down.

Furnace came in with the starter, and Theodosia turned to Simon. "Simon, we haven't had a chance to hear much about your school. You must tell me about your achievements last term," she said.

"Wowing them all with your abilities, eh Simon?" Virgil chuckled. Theodosia froze him with a glance, and he quickly subsided.

"Much as usual, Mother," Simon said uncomfortably.

"I can hardly believe that," Theodosia said. She paused as Neil was offered a bowl of hot water, which he obviously didn't know how to handle.

"Dip your hands in it," Simon murmured. Neil quickly gave a perfunctory dunk, and his hands were wiped for him with a linen towel.

"Ah," Theodosia continued, her eyebrows rose. "So, Mr. Gillsworth, where is your family from?"

"They live on the coast," Neil answered, stuttering.

"In shipping, are they?" Virgil asked jovially, poking his nose over his wineglass.

"Fishing," Neil responded. A heavy silence fell, and he looked at his plate, feeling his wrists grow three inches, and his feet increase by five sizes.

"I'd like to learn how to fish," Miriam said determinedly.

"Well, really! How about spear-fishing?" Theodosia said with a mirthless trill of laughter. "Maybe Miss Postulalaland can show you."

Simon looked from his mother to Miriam and Neil. "I'd like to learn how to fish as well," he said, popping a lump of pastry into his mouth.

Another icy silence descended, and Simon began to eat furiously. Maybe, if he chewed as fast as he decently could, the dinner would be over faster.

That was the last formal dinner for a while.

"What do you think about Mr. Cantwell?" Simon asked the next day. They were seated in the schoolroom again. The boys had beetled in as soon as Miriam's lessons were over.

"What do you mean?" Neil asked. After surviving the fiasco of the formal dinner, he had relaxed in Mana's company and was actually enjoying himself.

"He talks a lot but he doesn't say anything," Miriam said. "Haven't you noticed?"

"Always a bad sign," Simon said. "I think Mother thinks he's a bit of a ripping fellow."

"She certainly does." Miriam began to snort.

"Don't laugh at Simon's mother, please," Mana said, reeling off another long piece of cotton and threading her needle. She sat in a low chair by the fire, listening to the conversation and mending a frill on Miriam's new black dress.

"I laugh at her all the time," Simon burst out. "She's such a fearful snob. My father isn't too bad, but he just puts up with it, so she thinks she can do what she wants, which is worse. And I don't think she ever wears a dress twice; good thing, actually, because each is more fearsome than the last. Where does she get all the money from? I bet it's coming from your father's income, Miriam."

He stopped, breathing heavily, and they all stared at him. "Well, it's true," he added defiantly. "And something's up. Father mentioned something about a project to me last night, and mother hushed him until she was blue in the face. And now this Cantwell fellow is coming back to stay, with his foul sister."

"I'm sorry you feel that way about your parents," Mana said.

"Above all, I can't stand the way she treats Neil. Or you," Simon added as an afterthought, looking at Miriam.

Surprised, she responded, "It's not so bad."

"Yes it is," Simon says. "Do you have to put up with her needling you like that all the time?"

"All the time," Miriam admitted.

"There, see?" Simon continued. "She harps on you and Neil constantly. I'm fed up with it."

"At least you don't have to be her One Great Hope," Neil said. "My own parents can't wait for me to leave school, get a job and support my entire family."

Mana put her sewing down and regarded them over the lenses of her glasses. "My response should be something fitting to a governess, such as 'At least you have parents'. But I'll refrain from such an awful comment."

"What are your parents like?" Neil asked.

"Strong," Mana said. "They were very strong people. My mother could run for longer distances than anyone on the island, and my father could lift an entire bolemor trunk in his arms."

Miriam stared at her; for some reason, she had never considered Mana having parents. But of course, her governess had told her that she was an orphan as well, the first night they met.

"They were strong?" Neil asked.

"Killed in a revolution," Mana said matter-of-factly. "On Lampala."

"There was a revolution on the island?" Simon asked, enthralled.

"We weren't sure who our next ruler would be," Mana said. "Eventually one man, Atol, claimed the throne."

"Did you know him?" Neil asked.

"Yes, I knew him," Mana said. She picked up her sewing and didn't say anything else.

"Let's go out, Neil," Simon said, getting up. "I'll show you the path to the sea."

With a glance at Miriam, Neil stood, mumbled goodbye, and they left the room. Miriam watched them leave and felt a bit cross. Mana seemed to have gone all silent, so she was left to her own devices. Perhaps she should work on her story? No – perhaps she could do a bit of sleuthing on her own, with the boys out of the way and the Marchpanes off in the city! She was certain that Aunt Theodosia had gone for a dress fitting or something, and of course Virgil was working at the company, doing whatever he did.

"I'm going to get a book from the library," Miriam told Mana casually. Mana looked at her over her lenses, but she merely nodded and went back to her sewing.

Miriam padded off, starting to feel like a detective. When Nelly appeared out of one of the bedrooms, carrying a load of linens, Miriam, backed into a doorway and hid, holding her breath. he slipped down the stairs as quietly as she could.

The door to the library was closed, but the handle turned at once. Miriam crossed over to the huge desk that Uncle Virgil had been ransacking the first day she met him, and where he now kept his important papers. One document was thrust under one corner of the blotter, but as it looked like a letter, Miriam ignored it. She wanted to find some hidden journals, rolled parchments, or perhaps a missing will or two.

She tried the side drawers of the desk, but only the top one opened when she pulled it. It was full of blank writing paper, gummed labels, lumps of sealing wax and pencils. The other drawers beneath it were all locked.

Dash it all, Miriam thought. I wonder if there's a key. She hunted around on the desk and in the open drawer, but could find nothing. Disappointed, she was about to leave and try looking somewhere else when she glanced back at the letter on the desk, and saw Simon's name as well as her own.

Curiously she picked up the sheet of paper and read. The beginning was incomprehensible; it seemed to be addressed to someone called Fortescue, thanking him for some work done on Virgil's behalf.

She skipped down to the last sentence and read, "...when Simon comes of age and marries Miriam Pearson, we need to make sure of several things. First, there will be the trusts, which have proven simple enough until now but which may be more complicated later. Second, we'll have to discuss the means of terminating..." The letter ended there, as if the writer had been interrupted.

The door to the library opened suddenly, and Simon himself came in. Miriam looked up, shocked and whisked the letter behind her. She backed away, her cheeks flaming.

"Hey, it's you! What are you doing?" Simon asked, coming into the room. "Did you find something?"

After reading that sentence in the letter, Miriam suddenly saw him as a different person. He wasn't just the son of her guardians, someone who was pleasant enough and who had listened when she talked about her stories.

He was more than that. He was intended for her as a future husband.

"It's nothing at all." She sidled away from him and hid the letter behind her back..

Naturally, this made Simon even more curious. "Oh, come on." He pushed past the heavy desk and large chair to where she stood. "What have you got there? I won't tell on you; I just want to see what it is." Miriam twisted away from him, but Simon managed to get an arm around her and snatch the paper away.

"Ha ha!" He released her and held it above his head. "Success!" He put a hand out and grabbed her arm. "No, hold on, don't run off now; I just want to see..."

His voice died out as he stared at the letter. His lips moved as he reread it. For an instant, he was frozen in disbelief. He looked up at her with his mouth hanging open. "What on earth?"

"Well, don't think that I had anything to do with it!" Miriam cried out.

"Yes, but-"

At that moment, they heard Theodosia's voice at the front door, demanding that a servant come to take her parcels. Simon held the paper out to Miriam, and she thrust it back it him as if it were a live snake. He looked around the study and pushed it under the corner of the blotter. They retreated from the desk, escaped from the room and, as if with mute accord, ran for the back door as quickly as they could. They managed to escape without anyone seeing them.

Outside, Simon took a deep breath and blew it out. He laughed a bit, feeling a certain exultation at avoiding his mother.

Miriam, leaning against the house and feeling her own heart thud in her chest, laughed as well. The next moment she opened her eyes and realized where she was. She was standing there with Simon, alone.

"Um, just realized. I must be off. 'Bye," she announced hastily.

Simon frowned and reached out a hand to catch her arm again, but she slipped away and disappeared back into the house. He dropped his hand and started after her.

Neil came up behind him and grabbed his collar. "Hey, you abandoned me! Where've you been?" he demanded. "Did you find the string we needed?"

"What?" Simon turned to him and blinked.

"What's the matter with you? You look like you just saw Old Harry himself. Where's that string, idiot?"

Simon appeared to recall where he was. "String, right. String." He squared his shoulders and marched away. Neil was left behind, scratching his head.

## CHAPTER 16: Barbara

"THIS IS MY sister," Mr. Cantwell said, drawing the stranger forward. She was dressed in a beautifully cut suit of gold and black that fitted her exquisite figure like a silk stocking. The colors set off her reddish hair and strange, dark orange eyes.

"Good afternoon, Miss Cantwell," Theodosia said, hurrying forward and stretching out one hand in greeting. "Welcome to our home."

"Call me Barbara, please," the sister said in a curiously light, husky voice, gracefully touching two fingers to Theodosia's palm. "We shouldn't stand on ceremony if we are to be in business together." She sat on a chair opposite Miriam, Simon and Neil.

"You work for the company as well?" Miriam asked curiously. She couldn't imagine this exotic-looking creature doing accounts or writing letters about bolemor trees.

"Of course not –" Theodosia began, but Mr. Cantwell interrupted her.

"My sister is my right hand," he said, taking his seat beside Miriam on the settee and leaning towards her intimately. "She advises me in every capacity, including my current search for lodgings."

The sister smiled faintly and lowered her head, her veil casting an attractive shadow over her face. "We are in the market for a house, but we cannot find one that is suitable," she said. "At the moment, we must make do with hired rooms."

"Good lord!" Virgil expostulated, the ever-present decanter in his hand. He handed a glass to his partner, and offered, "Why not stay here for the moment? Plenty of space."

"Oh, do say you will," Theodosia said eagerly. "Make this your home for the moment."

Brother and sister looked at each other for a moment, and Barbara said, "Well, we'll see. We hate to intrude on your hospitality."

"I just can't bear the thought of your being in a rented place," Theodosia gushed, turning to Mr. Cantwell. "You could go to the city with Virgil when you have to visit the Company, and I could show Barbara around." Her gaze flicked over the sister's elegant clothes.

Miriam thought to herself, she means, she could find out the name of her dressmaker. Barbara's smart suit contrasted drastically with Theodosia's own clothes, which were in varying shades of ill-advised lavender.

Barbara tilted her head as if considering, and Theodosia watched her hopefully.

"Think on it, in any case," Virgil said, emptying his glass down his throat. "In the meantime, why don't you ladies take a short walk before dinner, and Cantwell and I can discuss business?"

Again the brother and sister regarded each other, and a message seemed to pass between them. "Very well," Barbara said, rising, "provided that the children and your handsome son come with us."

"Very well," Simon echoed, looking delighted at not being included as part of 'the children'. He bounded to his feet and offered Barbara his arm, which she took with a smile.

Miriam turned to Neil in surprise, and he shrugged. Theodosia, Miriam noted, was beaming at the sight of her son shepherding Barbara into the garden. As they moved outdoors, Miriam maneuvered her way to Neil's side and whispered, "Neil! What is going on with Simon?"

Neil knew exactly what she meant. "Hold on," he hissed back, pausing until Barbara, Simon and his mother had moved on a bit. "There, they won't be able to hear us. Obviously, Simon has taken a fancy to Miss Cantwell."

"Oh! You mean Barbara," Miriam said, stressing the last word. She felt a little disappointed. She and Simon, ever since they had discovered the letter, had avoided being alone together by tacit agreement. They had only come into contact if Neil and Mana were in the vicinity. Still, she missed talking to him about her stories and laughing with him and Neil after lessons.

She had begun to feel as though they could eventually become friends, once they forgot about that silly idea of marriage. "Is he always like this around girls?"

"He fell in love with the cook's daughter once," Neil said gloomily, "and wrote her poems. Picked flowers for her, too." He added in a burst of confidence, "He was pretty damned boring while it lasted."

"Yuck. I can just imagine. Suppose he won't want to come down to the sea with us and Mana and hunt for shrimps tomorrow," Miriam said regretfully. "You won't start this kind of thing, will you?" she asked Neil accusingly.

"No fear," he said emphatically. "No, thank you. And besides, there's something a little strange about those two –"

"You mean the Cantwells?" Miriam said. "Yes, I think so as well! I'm so glad I'm not the only one. He never answers any questions, even though he talks and talks. Have you noticed?"

"You're right."

"I'm going to keep an eye on them," she said, squinting ferociously at Neil. "Will you help me?"

"I don't know if I should," he said, his ears turning pink. "I mean – I'm a guest in your house."

"Come on, be a sport," Miriam cajoled. "No one will know. And besides, all we'll be doing is observing them."

Neil capitulated; he obviously was dying to do a little spying. "Simon will probably be at dinner with them, which means you and I will have to be there too," he said.

"Let's see if we can learn anything."

"I'll try to talk some sense into Simon as well." He continued, "Although, it won't do any good if it's like the last time. He's deaf and blind to the world when he's infatuated with a female."

"Well," Miriam said, "do what you can."

In a dinner jacket (borrowed from Simon) and relatively new trousers (they were the least shabby ones he owned), Neil looked in the glass and tried to smooth his hair down.

"I'm famished!" Simon bellowed. He broke into a loud chorus of 'Where Lies My Enchantment, There Will My Heart Surely Be'.

Neil groaned to himself and turned away from the mirror, to see Simon with a bowl of hot water and a razor, trying to shave.

"Think I have any whiskers on my cheeks, old man?" Simon asked cheerfully.

"I think you have whiskers on your brain," Neil retorted. The situation was worse than he thought. "Listen, about that girl, you know –"

"Barbara?" Simon supplied quickly, putting down his razor and drying off his face. "Dash it, I think I've cut myself. Isn't she lovely, Neil? No, lovely isn't the word that I want. She's like a parrot."

"A parrot?" Neil asked, refusing to follow. "You mean, because she has a beak and squawks? Does she eat birdseed and sit on a perch too?"

"No, idiot!" Simon twirled his towel into a rope and hit Neil on the seat of his trousers. "She's, you know, exotic, like a bird of the jungle, and yet, she's delicate too. Have you ever seen such eyes? And such hair? And she wants me to take her in to dinner! Hurrah!" He dropped the towel, basin and razor. He grabbed Neil around the waist and whirled him around, humming a waltz tunelessly as he did so.

"It's just as I thought. You've finally lost it," Neil said, disengaging himself as rapidly as possible. "You don't even know this girl!"

"I have lost it," Simon said, smiling to himself in what Neil thought was an extremely unintelligent manner. "Lost it, lost it!" he caroled, about to break into song again.

"Come on," Neil said hurriedly, backing away and giving it up. "You'll be late for dinner."

"Can't have that!" Simon grabbed a cravat, flung it around his neck, and beetled off past Neil, tying it as he ran down the steps.

That night, Barbara wore a blue dress that changed to deep green when she moved. Simon handed her into her seat as if she were made of glass. He took his seat opposite her, gazing at her face 'like one of the cows in the park as they chew their cud', Miriam thought as she took her seat next to Neil.

Barbara seemed to be pleased to allow such obvious worship; she raised her eyes to Simon and smiled, showing fine, white teeth. Theodosia was also delighted by Simon's adoration. She kept asking him to take Barbara to the Nun's Well in the next town and the old Priory, further afield.

"There's always some such thing in the vicinity, isn't there?" Barbara asked to everyone, her eyes returning, however, to Simon's face. "I mean, priories and wells and the like." She laughed and lifted her glass, and everyone dutifully drank.

"And we've always got to go and visit them, with a large picnic!" Cantwell agreed, smiling back.

He looked like his sister, Miriam thought, with those strange eyes and thick hair. She had to admit that they were both very attractive. His clothes were just as well-made as hers, but he appeared to have been poured into them.

"Now, Theo," he said, turning to Miriam's aunt, causing her to giggle, "I must tell you that your husband hasn't let up on me all afternoon."

"Hey?" Virgil asked, looking up from his plate in surprise.

"You know what I mean, Virgie," Cantwell said.

Miriam giggled again and hurriedly coughed into her napkin.

"He has been begging you to come and stay in this house again?" Barbara supplied, laughing again. "I've never met finer hosts; have you, Valiant?"

"Valiant?" Theodosia asked wonderingly, looking at Mr. Cantwell. "Is that your first name?"

"Now she's given it away," he replied, wadding up a napkin and pretending to throw it at his sister, who threatened him back with a roll. "Yes, that is my name, and a heavy burden it has always been to me."

"Oh, no!" Theodosia cried, putting down her knife. "It suits you just exactly!"

Valiant, hee hee, Miriam thought. She managed to nudge Neil, who looked straight ahead and nudged her back. She could feel another snort of laughter rising in her throat, but she managed to choke it back.

"Now, back to that issue," Virgil said determinedly. "You must stay here for the time being. Consider this your home, and all that."

"Great idea," Simon said enthusiastically.

"Well, if you want us to stay..." Barbara trailed off meaningfully, smiling at Simon. "I suppose we could manage it, don't you, Valiant, my love? For the moment, at least?"

"I think so, dearest. Until we find another house nearby, of course."

"That calls for champagne," Virgil said instantly. "Furnace, the finest bottle of sparkles, at once."

"If we do stay here," Barbara said, continuing the theme she had started, "I must warn you that I sleep very little. I hope I won't keep you awake at night, reading in my room."

"Nonsense!" Theodosia cried. "Virgil sleeps like a stone! Do whatever you like!"

"We'll soon be able to fix that little problem with Pearson's newest product if you're to live here," Virgil grunted into his drink, and stopped as if realizing what he had said. Theodosia turned to him with a look of furious surprise, and even Mr. Cantwell seemed nonplussed.

Barbara broke the awkward silence with a throaty little laugh. "I'm afraid nothing would help me," she said.

"Wouldn't long walks help you to sleep?" Simon offered eagerly. "I could take you down to the sea every afternoon, if you like."

"That would be lovely," she replied, toying with one long red curl that hung over her bare shoulder.

Theodosia beamed and held out her glass to be filled with champagne. "Simon is such a gentleman," she said.

Miriam could feel the bubble of laughter rise in her throat. If only they all could have seen the 'perfect gentleman', just the other day, chasing Neil through the trees and pretending to be a gorilla. She stole a glance at Neil, to see how he was taking it. He crossed his eyes at her and allowed one eyeball to swivel back and forth. Miriam choked into her napkin and was reprimanded by Theodosia, but Neil didn't let up the attack. He kept dropping his napkin and making faces at her from under the table, and nudging her elbow whenever Simon said something vapid to Barbara.

As the sweet course was brought in, Miriam hissed at him under cover of the clinking of china and silver, "Stop it! You're going to make me laugh!"

"You bet I am," Neil whispered back, "you're going to laugh before I am. Bet on it?"

"Right," Miriam said, stealing his napkin.

Theodosia looked at Miriam and Neil with disapproval and shook her head. She suggested they retire to the drawing room for coffee. "None of that nonsense of men staying behind at the table, Virgil," she said. "Come into the room with us."

"Oh! Very well, my dear," he said. They all got up and trooped out.

Miriam slumped. She wouldn't be able to play the fool there. She hoped that she, Neil and – yes, even Simon - would be dismissed soon. She could go and work on her dragonfly story, which was nearly finished.

In the drawing room, a large silver pot was placed by Theodosia's chair. Surprisingly, she poured for Neil first and passed him a delicate cup filled to overflowing. "Have a biscuit," she added, putting a delicate wafer on the saucer.

"Oh, all right," he replied, somewhat at a loss. He took the cup and held it on his knee, not sure of what to do with it – whether he could set it down on one of the many small tables or if he had to hold it.

"You look like an anxious curate," Miriam said in his ear.

"Go on, you take it," he shot back, shoving the cup into her hands. "Look at Simon and Miss Cantwell! Oh no, she's going to sing now. Is he actually going to turn the pages for her? Good lord, he is!"

Simon and Barbara had risen and gone to the piano. Simon hung over her shoulder, holding a few sheets of music as she settled herself on the stool.

Miriam stiffened as Mr. Cantwell sat next to her, putting one arm along the back of the sofa. "And how are you, Miriam?" he asked.

"Fine, just fine," Miriam answered. A ripple of notes emerged from the piano as Barbara began the song. Miriam had to admit that she had a good voice, although, did she really have to gaze at Simon like that as she sang? She gripped her cup tighter.

"Do you enjoy music?" Mr. Cantwell persisted.

Miriam shrugged. "I enjoy a nice song, I suppose," she replied.

"Would you like to sing next?" he asked.

Miriam avoided catching Neil's eye. "Honestly, I'm tone deaf," she said.

"Oh, I believe you're being modest! Do sing for us, please," he said. He actually got up and went down on one knee. From across the room, Simon brows knitted in a frown as he saw Cantwell kneeling in front of Miriam's seat.

She shook her head with determination. In order to change the topic of conversation, she asked, "How is the coffee? Is it warm enough?"

Mr. Cantwell got up, dusted off his trousers, and looked at the cup. He looked at Neil and Miriam and smiled. He boldly removed the cup from her hands. "Forgive me," he said, "but I believe the cup belongs to this young gentleman."

Miriam's mouth opened in a gasp. "But he gave it to me!" she exclaimed, causing Aunt Theodosia to shush loudly.

"No, it's all right," Neil said. "It's gone cold anyway. I'll drink this one, Miriam, and we'll ring for another."

The door to the study suddenly opened, and Mana came in. "Forgive me, Mrs. Marchpane," she murmured, "but I thought I smelled something." She looked at Neil and the cup he was holding. Quickly, she went to his side, grasped the cup and pulled it from his hands. The coffee sloshed on the carpet.

Theodosia pointed. "Just look at that! You ignorant fool! Your wages will be stopped until that is paid for!"

Her voice was loud, and everyone stopped to stare. At the piano, Simon was scowling again, and Barbara's delicate eyebrows were raised.

Mana bowed her head. "I beg your pardon, Mrs. Marchpane. I will, of course, pay for the carpet to be cleaned."

"It's my carpet," Miriam said.

"Miriam, that's enough," Mana said.

"But it is!" she insisted.

Theodosia stood up and raised one long, bony finger. Shaking it up and down, she declared, "Next time anything like this happens, you will be dismissed immediately. Immediately, do you understand?"

Mana nodded. "I do indeed. May I offer my apologies again? And, I regret to add that it is time for Miriam to go to bed."

Miriam saw her 'aunt' turn purple. Obviously she wanted to say no to Mana, but she also wanted the girl to leave. Miriam decided it for her by getting up and saying, "I am tired, now that you mention it, Miss Postulate. Uncle Virgil and Aunt Theodosia, would you mind if I retired now? Miss Cantwell, thank you so much for the music. It was lovely. Mr. Cantwell, Simon, Neil – good night."

Neil, Simon and Simon's parents stared at her, their mouths open. Valiant and Barbara, however, appeared as they always did: elegantly amused.

As Miriam followed Mana up the stairs, she noticed that her governess' body was shaking. "Mana," she said with concern, "what is it? Are you all right? Did she frighten you?"

Mana put one hand on the wall and leaned against it. She closed her eyes tightly and shook her head.

Astonished, Miriam saw that her elegant, composed governess was indulging in a fit of the giggles.

## CHAPTER 17: Secret Plots

MIRIAM OPENED HER eyes. Mana was sitting by the window, holding something in her hand. The girl swung her legs out of bed and padded over to see.

"What have you got?" she asked.

Mana turned. She held a cup in a large, fine linen handkerchief. "Does this look familiar to you, Miriam?" she asked.

Miriam shrugged. "Certainly it does. It's one of the bone china cups that are kept for best company. I'm always afraid I'll knock off the handle whenever I have to use one."

Mana held the cup up to the windowpane. The porcelain was so fine that the light shone right through it, making the cup glow. She turned it this way and that, studying the cup and she sniffed it.

"Miriam," she asked, "did you drink from this cup at all?"

Miriam shrugged again. "Oh, I don't know."

Mana turned to face her, and she put her hand on the girls arm. "You must think, now, Miriam. Did you, at any point, taste the coffee in this cup? Or did Neil?"

"Why do you ask?"

Mana put the cup in her lap and put both arms around her. "You trust me, don't you?"

Miriam didn't have to think about that. "Yes, of course I do."

"Think for me. Close your eyes and remember exactly what happened last night."

Astonished, Miriam did what she was told. "Very well, I'll try to remember. We finished dinner. After that we went into the drawing room."

"Good. And whom did you sit next to?"

"I wanted to sit next to Simon or Neil, but Simon was too busy turning pages for that sister. Miss Cantwell. And Mr. Cantwell insisted on plunking down next to me."

"And who gave Neil the coffee?"

"Oh, I don't know!" Miriam opened her eyes and sighed. "All this talk of coffee is making me thirsty. Could I have a cup of tea?"

"Of course you may," Mana said, "in a minute. Was there anything served with it?"

"Biscuits!" Miriam cried. "Of course! It was Aunt Theodosia who gave it to Neil. She put a biscuit on the saucer, and she handed it to him. I recall it perfectly now. I remember thinking how strange it was, since she usually ignores him."

"And did you or Neil drink any of the coffee? This is vital, now."

"No." Miriam shook her black curls and looked straight at her teacher. "No, we did not."

Mana sighed and sat back, releasing Miriam. "Wonderful. Thank you very much, Miriam. You've been a big help."

"But, Mana," Miriam asked, "what does it all mean? Why are you so worried about one cup of coffee?"

Mana wrapped up the cup carefully in the linen handkerchief. "Time to get dressed," she said.

Bathed and dressed, Miriam sat in the schoolroom drinking the promised cup of tea while Mana read an essay. She felt more awake, and eventually she pulled her journal in front of her, in order to write for a bit.

The door opened quietly, and Neil entered. "May I come in?" he asked tentatively. "Simon's off with Miss Cantwell, again. Are you all right?" he added.

"I think so," Miriam replied, taking another long slurp of tea.

"Good morning, Neil," Mana said, smiling at him. "How are you feeling this morning?"

He shook his head. "I'm fine," he said. He sat down next to Mana and looked through the books that were piled next to her.

"Are you sure you're fine?" Mana asked.

He breathed a long sigh. "I think I'll write to my parents and tell them that I'll come home soon."

Mana looked at him sharply over her glasses. "That seems sudden."

"Simon ignoring you, eh?" Miriam asked

"He spends all his time blabbing with that woman."

Miriam snorted. "That woman! That's exactly how I feel too. Thank goodness I have Mana to talk to, even if she does ask lots of questions."

"What questions?"

"Oh, I didn't mean to say that!" Miriam cried. "I just blurt things out, Mana."

"It's all right," Mana said. "I think that Neil should be in on the secret."

"What secret?" Miriam and Neil asked at the same time.

Mana frowned. She appeared to consider for a moment, and she said, "I know now what is being planned for the company, and why they are running the Night Watchman Express; also, why we were able to see Lampala from the beach that day. And, I do think returning to your family, as soon as possible, is a very good idea, Neil."

"I'll write to them today, at any rate," he said. "But what do you mean by that, Miss Postulate? What is it? Can you tell us?"

Mana appeared to consider. "We need to be as quiet as possible," she said. "I've told Miriam this already, but if we listen and watch everyone, the Cantwells above all, perhaps I could confirm some ideas I have. Once I can do that, I need to return to Lampala to settle some issues there."

"To Lampala!" Miriam whispered. "Leaving me behind?"

"Just for a short while," Mana said.

"But that's a trip that would take weeks!" Neil objected. "I know the sea, and –"

"There are other ways of travelling," Mana said. "I've had some suspicions for a while, and what happened last night made me more certain that I must act, and soon. Now, I just need some sort of proof."

"But proof of what?" Neil demanded.

"Just keep your ears and eyes open, as I said, and let me know what you discover."

"Can we go poking about?" Miriam asked hopefully.

Mana shook her head. "Make certain that you do absolutely nothing that would raise any doubts in anyone's mind about our innocence," she said.

"But you could, you know, cloud their minds while we looked," Miriam argued.

"Cloud their minds?" Neil asked, bewildered.

"Oh, Mana can do mind control," Miriam said impatiently. "I saw her do it once."

"Mind control! Good night!" Neil said. "What's next? We have a secret plot, mind control, those weird circles on the beach –"

"What circles on the beach?" Miriam said, turning towards him. "What are you talking about?"

Neil clapped his hand over his mouth. "I wasn't supposed to say anything!" he cried.

"It's MY beach!" Miriam said, turning pink. "You were keeping secrets from ME?"

"It's just something that Simon and I noticed," Neil mumbled. "I didn't mean to keep any secrets from you, but Simon insisted that we didn't tell anyone."

"Oh, he did, did he? Well, who is he to say what you can or can't tell me?"

"Miriam," Mana said.

Miriam subsided, but she shot a dark look at Neil. "I can't believe you didn't say anything to me," she muttered. "I thought we were friends."

"I'll show you later if you like," Neil offered. "Now that Simon has gone all peculiar over that Barbara female, you and I can observe them instead."

"Very well," Miriam said, unwilling to forgive him, but longing to know what he was talking about.

"I'd like to see them as well, if you don't mind," Mana said.

"Oh, rather, Miss Postulate!" Neil said, coloring.

Miriam, watching him, realized that Neil found Mana just as attractive as Simon found Miss Cantwell. Humph, she said to herself.

"Can we go there this morning?" Miriam asked.

"Lessons first, if you feel energetic enough," Mana insisted.

Barbara and her brother took the afternoon train into town so she could pick up some things that she needed for her stay. Simon watched as the motorcar bore them away to the station.

He turned away from the window. The house, in the late sun, was immensely quiet, and he wondered where Neil was. In fact, he suddenly realized he had been neglecting Neil lately.

He ran upstairs, calling for him, but no one answered. Simon tried the schoolroom, but that was vacant as well – the books were put away, and Miriam's work was in a neat pile on the table. He frowned. They must have all gone out without him – they might at least have asked him, he thought angrily, forgetting his recent fascination with Miss Cantwell.

Grabbing a pullover, he dashed outside, still calling Neil's name. He pushed through the woods, went over to the steps and looked down. Sure enough, there they all were – Neil, Miriam and Mana, grouped around a basket and deep in conversation. Beasts! Idiots! Simon said to himself and flew down the steps.

"I didn't know you were down here!" he shouted with pent-up rage when he reached the bottom. The group instantly stopped talking and turned to him.

"No, why should you?" Miriam said. "You were too busy with Baaaaarbaraaaaa."

"You might have at least asked me!" Simon shouted.

"You only came down here to see us because the Cantwells went to town, didn't you! Go on, admit it!" Miriam shouted back.

Neil looked at Mana. This was usually the point in Simon and Miriam's conversation at which she intervened, but she merely poured another glass of lemonade and handed it to Simon without comment. "Thanks," he said gruffly, observing that he was desperately thirsty. Somehow it didn't do to bellow at Mana.

Miriam made a disgusted noise and sat back down beside Neil, who looked uncertainly at Simon. "Er, how are you?" he asked.

"Fine, thanks," Simon grunted and sat on one far edge of the rug Mana had spread out. "What were you doing?"

Neil and Miriam looked at each other guiltily, and Neil answered, "Nothing."

"Oh, come on!" Simon exploded. "I can tell that you were doing something! Don't even try it! What were you talking about?"

"We were talking about that cup of coffee," Miriam shot back, "and how it was meant for Neil."

"Oh, that," Simon replied, relaxing. He pushed up his sleeves and leaned back to feel the sun on his face. "Nothing really happened; I told Neil that at breakfast. Miss Postulate probably just tripped."

"Tripped!" Miriam was speechless.

"I didn't trip," Mana supplied.

"Well, that's what Barb – my parents said, and Mr. Cantwell agreed."

"Of course he did," Miriam said, regaining her power of speech. "He could hardly say anything else, since he probably engineered the whole thing."

"Oh, stop," Simon groaned. "I know we talked about some silly plot before, but I realize now the Cantwells are really just involved in company business with Father."

"You're right in one respect," Mana said. "Have a sandwich? It does have to do with the business, but it's not ordinary. Far from it."

Simon hesitated, and took the sandwich. Biting into it, he chewed thoughtfully, watched by Neil and Miriam. He stopped, swallowed, and said, "Stop looking at me as if I were in the zoological gardens! I'm just eating a sandwich!"

"Sorry," Neil said at once. "But I have to agree with Miriam and Miss Postulate. Something strange happened last night, and Miss Cantwell was part of it."

Simon threw down the remains of his sandwich. "Don't ever accuse her again to me," he said in a choked voice. He stood up and marched to the steps, not looking back.

"That didn't go very well," Miriam said, screwing up her eyes and looking at Simon's retreating back.

"That's what I meant," Mana replied. "Miss Cantwell is the most dangerous person I have ever met, and it looks as though she has won the first round."

When the Cantwells returned that evening, Simon made a great point of being very attentive to Barbara: taking her coat, holding her chair for her and turning the pages of her music as she practiced piano. If he grew more annoyed as Miriam and Neil stuck together, he didn't show it. His mother was delighted that he was staying away from the 'Fisherboy,' as she now called Neil. She began to plan trips to the country for Barbara and Simon.

Barbara, watching events with her strange, dark orange eyes, smiled to herself and said little. When she did talk, it was to Simon, in a low, husky, confiding tone.

Miriam, keeping in mind Mana's orders to stay silent, stayed next to Neil on the settee. She wished she could root through Miss Cantwell's fashionable leather trunk or at least search her pockets. However, she kept quiet as well, and waited.

## CHAPTER 18: Mana's Wooden Comb

MANA HAD HER wooden comb out again, teasing the tangles out of Miriam's hair. The late summer sun dyed the wall red behind them, and the light hit the dark curls. "It's grown very long," Mana said. "You're getting taller, too. Almost a young lady!"

"Not that! Anything but that!" Miriam laughed. "That would mean I would have to act like a young lady."

"Heaven forbid."

"Mana, Simon and Neil's school break is almost over. Have you discovered anything yet?"

Mana twisted the hair into a braid. "To tell you the truth, I have been counting the days left until Simon returns to school," she finally said. "He will be much safer there, and it will be better for you as well. With him gone – well, perhaps Miss Cantwell will find other interests."

"But Neil and he will have left, and I'll have no one to talk to!" Miriam cried.

"No one?" Mana asked, her lips twitching.

"Well, you know what I mean," Miriam said. Mana gave her a little nudge and began to comb out the curls around the girl's face.

"What a very interesting comb," someone said behind them.

Miriam gave a little shriek, and even Mana was startled. Barbara stood in the doorway, one arm on the doorframe in an elegant attitude.

"Good morning," Miss Cantwell said, coming into the room. "I thought I heard someone mention my name!" She smiled at Mana. "And I repeat, what a very interesting comb. Please, may I see it?" The unwelcome visitor held out one white, soft palm.

Mana thrust the object into her own pocket. "I'm sorry. It is a family heirloom," she said firmly.

Barbara puckered her forehead. "Come now – Miss Postulate, is it? – do let me see it. I am very interested in island artifacts."

"I'm sorry, but no." Mana picked up a ribbon and prepared to tie it around Miriam's braid, but Barbara stepped forward and whisked the slim band out of the governess' hand. She stepped closer to Mana and stared at her.

"You will listen to me when I speak to you," she said in a low tone. The change in her was incredible – her lips curled back, the orange eyes narrowed to slits, and all of her attention was focused on Mana.

Mana raised her eyebrows. "I will listen to you as long as you wish."

Barbara withdrew a fraction of an inch and smiled again in her most winning manner. "Forgive me," she said, a small laugh bubbling from her. "I have been so busy these past weeks... Miss Postulate, I will pay you for that comb, sight unseen! Let's say, fifty guineas?"

"It is not for sale," Mana said.

"One hundred," Barbara said without hesitation. "You couldn't do better than that – it is a figure that must be more than twice your yearly salary!"

"You are surprisingly accurate," Mana said. "Still, it is not, nor will it ever be, for sale."

Barbara stopped smiling, and she looked at Mana for a long moment. The governess gazed back unblinkingly. Miriam sat frozen between them, feeling as if she were in the middle of some silent battle of wills. Finally, Miss Cantwell said, "There is more than one way of getting an object if one wants it, Miss Postulate; remember that."

"I'm sure you know better than most," Mana responded.

At that, Barbara turned away suddenly with a swish of silk skirts and was gone.

Mana stood still for a long moment, and she opened the drawer of Miriam's bedside table. Taking out another ribbon, she silently wound it around the girl's hair and tied it in a long bow.

"What does that mean –" Miriam began, but Mana cut her off by sitting beside her on the bed. Miriam could feel her arm beside her own, and the muscles beneath the dark skin were taut, as if the woman were trying to contain herself.

At last, Mana whispered, "That could not have been worse timing. I never sensed her there, and I usually... Who knows what she heard?"

"But she gave herself away," Miriam objected. "She raised the price without hesitation! At least you know now that she really wants something that you have, although why she wants a wooden comb so much, I can't imagine."

Mana put her hands on the girl's shoulders. "Do you know, Miriam, you are right," Mana said. "I hadn't thought of it like that. But listen," she added. "If I suddenly have to leave now, or if I am gone when you wake up one day, go to the islands. Go to Lampala; all of you, including Neil and Simon. Don't forget what I tell you – find some way to make it to Lampala! You'll remember?"

Miriam nodded, feeling as though she had thousands of questions with no time left to ask them.

Simon knocked on Barbara's door, and she softly responded, "Come in!" When he entered her room, she was sitting at a mirror, holding up a necklace of red stones, but she turned when she saw him. "Simon!" she said gladly. "The very person! Will you do up the catch in this necklace for me!"

"By all means," he said, striding forward and grasping the delicate thing. "How does it work – oh, I see. But do I get a reward, Barbara?"

"What reward did you have in mind?" she laughed, meeting his eyes in the mirror.

He finished doing up the catch, and leaning forward, put his hands on her shoulders and met her eyes in the mirror. "Something really meaningful," he said seriously, "such as letting me take you in to dinner."

She laughed delightedly. "Oh, spare my blushes!" She stood up and placed her fingertips on the arm that he held out. "Of course you may. You know I don't want anyone else taking me in to dine. But may I ask you something?"

He held the door open and said, "Anything."

"Where did you learn how to flirt like that?" She came very close to him, but didn't move to pass through the doorway. "My heavens, you are just a schoolboy, and yet you manage to put most of the grown men I know to shame!"

"Just a schoolboy!" he echoed in mock anger. "Miss Cantwell, I'll have you know I only have one more year of school!"

Barbara reached around him and closed the door again, so they were alone together. "And after that?" she breathed.

He looked down at her, fascinated by the perfect shape of her eyebrows against her white forehead. "I don't know," he said, "I never really thought about it."

"Ah," she said. "Perhaps you will be going into the company?"

He frowned, surprised. "Pearson's? I don't think so. It would be too easy. I want to make my own career."

"Very noble," she responded. "But Simon, may I just tell you one thing in confidence? One day, very soon, we will all be rich; not just well-to-do, but hopelessly, disgustingly wealthy." She laughed a low breathless bubble of mirth. "Can you imagine it?"

"Is that what you want?" he replied, smiling.

"Indeed I do. Of course, there will be some difficult things we will all have to do before."

He leaned a bit closer to her. "That sounds intriguing. What difficult things?"

"Oh, distasteful things, actions that we would really prefer not to take. Still, if we – if you – do them well, you shall have your real reward." She laughed again.

Simon smiled, but he shook his head. "You know, I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

"How do you feel about Miriam, Simon?"

"Oh!" Simon shrugged. "I don't know. When I first met her, I thought she was one of the rudest girls I'd ever seen. However, she's not all that bad. Now that I've gotten to know her, I think she's all right, for a girl. Writes stories – pretty decent ones, actually."

"And what if your parents want you to marry her?" Barbara asked, stroking the material of his coat sleeve under her hand.

Shocked, Simon asked, "How the devil did you know about that?"

"Ah! So you already knew. That makes things easier. What I wanted to tell you was to not worry about her; there are always ways of ridding yourself of boring annoyances."

"Boring annoyances," he repeated, frowning slightly, his eyes intent on her face.

She stopped him by putting one hand on his lips. "Listen, Simon, no more talk now. Take me to dinner. And think of this. Sometimes putting something pleasant off for a few years makes it all the better when one achieves that pleasure at last, after a period of duty."

"Duty," he repeated mechanically, reopening the door and stepping back.

She took his arm and nestled next to him for a brief instant. "Duty. Exactly." She stepped into the hall, certain that he would follow her.

That night, Miriam stayed in her room with Mana. Simon had forgotten to tell Neil to get dressed for dinner in his rush to escort Miss Cantwell, so he was upstairs as well.

Downstairs, during dinner, Simon kept quiet. No one noticed, however, thanks to Barbara's bright chatter and constant stream of conversation. He watched her, seeing how the glowing coils of her hair lay against the deep copper of her dress, and he said nothing.

After dinner, they retired to the drawing room for coffee. "I feel as if you had lived here almost as long as we have, Barbara," Theodosia said, pouring out a cup and handing it to Valiant.

"Oh, darling Theo, I just couldn't be more comfortable!" Barbara said, stirring her own coffee. "It's such a wonderful house!"

"You and Simon certainly seem comfortable," Theodosia said archly.

"Yes, I will miss him so much when he goes back to school, won't I, Simon? And the staff you have is so well-trained, Theo."

"They do well enough," Theodosia responded with a sniff, putting down her cup. "But I had to deal with such nonsense at the beginning; believe me, Barbara, you don't know what I suffered."

"Nonsense is intolerable, isn't it, Simon?" Barbara said, smiling. "Tell me," she added, tracing the rim of her cup with one slim finger, "when did you hire the governess?"

"That was the worst part," Theodosia said. "That child of Pearson's put up such a battle of wills when we arrived, that my nerves simply could not stand it. Isn't that so, Virgil?"

"What?" Virgil asked, his eyes snapping open. He quickly righted his glass of brandy, which had been threatening to spill onto his shirtfront, and took a long draught.

"Do wake up, Virgil," Theodosia snapped. "You're boring poor Mr. Cantwell."

"Don't worry about me, Theo," Valiant said, waving one cigar lazily from the depths of an armchair.

"She is an orphan," Simon said.

"But the governess," Barbara insisted. "What made you consider someone of, well, her complexion?"

Theodosia dropped her voice. "That was the strangest part," she said, "and you may not believe it, but we don't remember actually hiring her. There were our signatures on the contract, mine and Virgil's, and yet to this day, I have no recollection of signing my name."

"Aha," Barbara said, sitting back as if satisfied. "I thought something like that might have been the case. And you are happy with her?"

"Well, one can hardly be happy about having a native in the house," Theodosia said.

"Mother, stop it!" Simon exploded, unable to keep silent in the face of such snobbery.

"No, Simon, let her talk." Barbara turned back to Theodosia. "And let me ask you this, Theo – would you like to get rid of her?"

Theodosia shrugged. "I suppose so. It can hardly be thought fashionable to have a black servant in the house, unless one has a pageboy or something. However, she has given us no cause for offence, no reason to let her off, unfortunately, aside from the incident the other night. I must admit that she is perfectly polite."

"Well, I must disagree," Barbara said, looking over the rim of her cup at Theodosia. "She was insolent to me this afternoon."

"Mana was insolent?" Simon asked. "Her manners are always perfect!"

Theodosia slammed her cup down so hard that the saucer shattered. "Virgil, call that woman down here at once," she demanded.

"Who? What woman?" Virgil said, struggling to extricate himself from his chair.

"I'll do it," Valiant offered, putting his cigar in a silver holder. Going to the bell, he pushed it, whistling to himself.

"This is ridiculous!" Simon protested.

"Don't worry about it," Barbara said. "Everything will work out just as I told you earlier, Simon."

The door opened. Furnace stepped into the room, and Theodosia instantly got up and approached him. "You will send that governess to me instantly, do you hear?" she ordered.

"Do you mean Miss Postulate?" he asked.

"Of course, I mean the Postulate woman, numbskull! What other governesses are in the house?"

He bowed. "I believe she is in the kitchen now, ordering dinner for herself and Miss Miriam," he said, and withdrew.

"Well!" Theodosia sat down. "You see what I mean, Barbara. Persons of quality simply shouldn't have to put up with such things."

"Mother, you sound as if you were in the last century!" Simon protested. "Quality isn't something that you're born with, it's something that you attain, or prove by your manner of living!"

"Bravo!" Valiant put his cigar in one corner of his mouth and applauded.

"Didn't I tell you?" Barbara said to her brother. "I always knew that he was something out of the ordinary."

Simon ignored them. "Mother, listen to me. Miss Postulate – Mana – is a great teacher. Who cares where she comes from and what she looks like?"

"Oh, Mana is it?" Theodosia said, giggling mirthlessly. "Wonder if she has any middle names – Gaga or Lala or whatever it is?"

"Stop it!" Simon shouted again, standing up.

At that instant, the door opened and Mana came in. As always, she radiated neatness and cleanness. She said, "You wished to see me, Mrs. Marchpane?"

"I do, indeed!" Theodosia said, her face turning an unbecoming shade of puce. "Miss Cantwell tells me that you gave her grave offence today!"

"None was intended," Mana responded.

"Well, what happened? Out with it!" Theodosia said, her voice rising.

"Miss Cantwell was interested in an object of mine and wanted to buy it," Mana said, "but as it was an heirloom, I refused."

"You refused!" Words failed Theodosia for a moment, and she moved her mouth, looking rather like a fish.

The door opened again and Miriam burst in and went over to Mana. "What's going on?" she asked.

Barbara ignored her. "Simply let me see the item, and I'll recant my charge," she said.

"Go on," Theodosia said to Mana, "show it to her at once!"

Mana shook her head. "I'm very sorry, but I cannot do so," she said.

"But you must!" Theodosia shouted.

"Leave her alone!" Miriam yelled.

Valiant got to his feet and strolled forward. "If I may be so bold," he said, "why don't you simply show her the item, Miss Postulate, and all this fighting can cease. Surely that's fair? Barbara will promise to only look at it and not touch, won't you, Barbara?"

"I promise," Barbara said, smiling at her brother.

Mana shook her head. "I'm sorry if you have misunderstood, Miss Cantwell, but it is very important to me. I'm sure that you have items that are private to you, and I must ask you to respect my privacy as well."

"You will be sacked!" Theodosia screamed.

"Will I?" Mana asked softly, staring back at her intently.

Miriam, dying to run at Theodosia and smack her or throw coffee in her face or both, kept still with a great effort. Theodosia blinked and said, slowly, "Maybe it would be best if we just forget everything."

"That won't work this time, Miss Postulate," Barbara said, rising and approaching the older woman's chair. Swiftly she raised one hand and dealt two blows to Theodosia's face.

Gasping, Theodosia looked dazed. "What on earth!"

Barbara knelt by her chair. "Please forgive me, Theo, but you were about to faint."

Simon gave a swift exclamation, but Mana cut him off. "I am going to take Miriam up to her dinner," she said.

"You will do no such thing," Theodosia said. "You are to leave our house this instant."

"It's not your house!" Miriam shouted. "It's my house, you idiotic, frightful... ancient!"

"No." Mana put her hand on Miriam's shoulder, stopping the outburst, and smiled. "No, Miriam. Taking everything into account, I think that it's best if I leave now, as Mrs. Marchpane wishes. However, remember what I said to you earlier."

"Mana, no!" Miriam sobbed, and fought to escape as a pair of arms encircled her from behind – Valiant was holding her back.

"Now, now, careful, Miriam," he said pleasantly as she tore at him. "You'll give me a bruise, or even worse, you'll untie my cravat! And we can't have that!"

"Tell Neil," Mana said to Miriam, and she left the room. The door closed with finality, and Miriam sobbed as she heard Mana's swift steps going upstairs.

"I suppose I shall have to supervise her departure," Theodosia said, heading for the door. "See that the girl stays here; I want no further contact between her and that woman."

"Done Theo," Valiant said, effortlessly picking Miriam up and putting her in a chair. "Now, you're going to cooperate, aren't you? Best thing for everyone."

"Hey," Simon said, coming behind Valentine and tapping him on the arm. "How about leaving her alone?"

"Simon!" Barbara said, but for once he ignored her.

"She's a girl," he continued, staring at Valiant. "If you want to say something, say it to me."

The man turned from the struggling girl and laughed, deep dimples appearing in his cheeks. "Your little suitor is actually becoming a man, Barbara!" he said. "Move back, sonny, out of the way."

"Stand up, I said!" Simon shouted.

Miriam stopped struggling suddenly. "No," she said. "Don't. That's not the way, Simon. Don't worry, Mr. Cantwell; I'll behave myself."

He still knelt in front of her, tightly holding her arms. "Can I trust you?" he asked.

Miriam nodded. "Yes," she said.

Satisfied, he got up and, retrieving his cigar, resumed puffing on it as though nothing had occurred out of the ordinary that evening.

Breathing heavily, Simon looked between Miriam and his father's partner. "Simon," Barbara said, "do sit down." Reaching up, she put one hand on his arm, but he shook it off and, without a backward look, he marched out of the room. Somewhat surprised, Barbara watched him go and jumped as he slammed the door behind him.

"Better hang on to your admirer, Barbara," Valiant said, blowing out a long stream of smoke. "He seems to be suffering a fit of temper."

"He'll come back," she said. "Still, it is a bit annoying, especially now –" She stopped talking as Valiant waved his cigar at Miriam.

Virgil chose that moment to snore himself awake. "What the devil?" he asked. "Where is everyone?"

"Don't worry about it, Virgil, old chap," Valiant said. He carefully tapped off a disc of thick ash into the silver holder by his elbow.

"I believe it is time for this little girl to go to her room, Valiant," Barbara said, indicating Miriam without looking at her.

Miriam stood up. "I'm going," she said, "but not because you want me to; I'm leaving because I want to get away from you. And I'm not a little girl, not anymore."

She strode out and closed the door on Barbara's soft laugh.

## CHAPTER 19: The Nightwatchman Express

HER ROOM SEEMED very empty that night as Miriam got ready for bed. By the time she had left the drawing room and gone upstairs, Mana had already been hustled out of the house, and so she hadn't even been able to say goodbye to her teacher.

Her nightgown was folded neatly on top of her pillow. She picked it up, but as she slid it over her head, something heavy fell out of one sleeve and bounced onto the carpet. Miriam tossed aside the nightgown and picked up the object. She stared at the dark object in her hand.

"The comb," she whispered, turning it over. Mana's comb. It had been the cause of the trouble! Why had Mana refused to show it to the Cantwells? And why had that sister wanted to see it so badly? Miriam didn't believe the story of her 'being interested in island artifacts'. No, there was much more to it than that.

For all the trouble it had caused, it was beautifully made. It had been hand carved, the wavy lines forming the pattern that was inlaid with what still looked like pearls. It seemed incredibly old, but the wood was almost as hard as stone and hadn't cracked at all.

Miriam shook her head. Why, and this was the most perplexing question of all, would Mana refuse to show anyone the comb and yet leave it behind her when she left the house? She ran one finger over the teeth, feeling how smooth the wood was.

One thing was certain; the governess had put the comb in her nightgown because she trusted Miriam with it, and so a proper hiding place had to be found somehow. For Mana's sake.

Miriam looked around her attic room, but she couldn't think of a secret nook where she could tuck it away. She put it under her pillow and got into her nightgown, letting her clothes slip to the floor.

Would Mana like that? No, she reasoned, her governess would not. Miriam sighed, picked up her clothes, and went to the cupboard to hang them up.

She got into bed and turned out the light but couldn't fall asleep. Staring at the ceiling, she reviewed the scene in the drawing room. If only she could have thought of something clever to say, or have found some way to help Mana! It was just too frustrating being young and not being able to do anything. Furthermore, and most frustrating, Miss Cantwell had called her 'the little girl'.

Miriam sighed and flopped onto one side, and the other after a few minutes. What was wrong with her? She was always able to fall asleep right away since Mana came to be her governess. Well, of course, brainless, she told herself. That was it. Mana was no longer here, sitting by the fire and humming one of her songs, watching while Miriam slept.

She would just have to get used to it, since she refused to be a little girl any more needing a governess in her room while she lay in bed. She would show them that Miss Cantwell was entirely wrong. She would show them that Mana was the finest governess anyone could wish for, and that she, Miriam, had learned her lessons. Resolutely she closed her eyes and slipped into an uneasy sleep.

Again, she found herself in front of a tall, iron door. All of its seven locks were closed. And again, the man and the woman stood on either side of the locked door, their faces in the shadows.

You've got to believe me, Miriam shouted in the silence of her dream. I am innocent! I didn't commit any crime!

Beyond the door, Miriam knew, there was a terrible dark place where she would be brought. She would have to live there, and work there, in its darkness. And even worse -

Suddenly, the long whistle began, rising like a scream, getting louder and louder.

She woke up suddenly, her heart pounding. She hadn't had that dream in ages. Sitting up in bed, she knew that she wouldn't be able to fall asleep again unless she had some milk or something to drink.

She found her robe and crept downstairs, trying not to make the steps creak. The house was dark and silent, and all the doors in the hallways were closed. There was no sign of any of the servants, so it had to be very late. Well, I can pour myself a cup of milk, Miriam reasoned.

She headed to the kitchen, but a light was shining from Uncle Virgil's study. Wonderful. Now she would be discovered out of bed and sent back to her room in disgrace. She froze, but there was no sound at all coming out of the room.

As quietly as she could, she went to the doorway and looked in, but the room was deserted. The light came from the little lamp on the desk, shining down on two pieces of paper.

Miriam took a deep breath and went to the desk, expecting at any minute to hear Theodosia's loud, angry voice telling her to go back to bed and stop being a nuisance or a guttersnipe.

The first document was a receipt made out to a Judson Poole, dated that evening, for 'services rendered'. Miriam looked at it for a moment but couldn't understand it. The other paper, lying under the receipt, was a train schedule for the Night Watchman Express. What on earth? Miriam noticed a tiny notation written in pencil on the bottom of the schedule: 'M. Postulate'.

So this had something to do with Mana! Maybe they were putting her on the late train, since she had missed the other departures. Glancing up at the clock, Miriam saw that it was not as late as she thought. If she hurried, perhaps she could make it to the station in time –she could try to say goodbye.

Having made up her mind, she left the office (keeping the light turned on and the door opened, just as she had found it) and ran back upstairs noiselessly. The hallway was still dark and silent, so she hurried up to her room and rummaged for some clothes.

Quickly, quickly, she said to herself as she pulled on a dress. Why did garments twist themselves around you when you were in a hurry? And stockings were such fiddly things; she yanked two out of a drawer, not bothering to notice if they matched or not, and tied her suspenders.

Should she bring anything else? She ran to her chest, and pulled out the typing machine. Her money-box was underneath it. Maybe Mana would need some funds. Miriam opened it and grabbed the few small notes that were inside. She crossed to her bed and took the comb out from under her pillow. She went back downstairs. In her haste, she didn't notice that she had left the Crown Phoenix typewriter sitting out in the middle of the attic room floor.

She was about to head out the back door when she remembered that Mana had not eaten since breakfast that morning. Almost certainly she must be hungry by now. Miriam dashed to the kitchen, which was as dark and empty as the halls, and grabbed what came to hand from the dresser – a packet of biscuits, chocolate and a few apples. These she crammed down the front of her shirt, so she wouldn't break the comb in her pocket.

Heading to the back door, she wondered how much time she had left. If she cut through the park on the side of the house, she could make it to the station in twenty minutes. She might just be able to make it –

Suddenly, she bumped into something live and warm in the darkness. There was a muttered exclamation, and a hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. "Got you!" someone said.

"Simon, you idiot!" she whispered back. "It's me!"

She heard the sound of a striking match, and a small light flared up, showing Simon and Neil. "What are you doing?" Simon asked.

"I think Mana's leaving right now on the train," Miriam said. "I wanted to take her some things before she left."

"What? Why do you think she's leaving now?" Neil whispered.

"I found a train schedule with her name on it, under a receipt made to a Justin Poole, or somebody."

"You'll never catch the train," Simon said, looking at his watch. He shook out the match, plunging the corridor into darkness.

"Well, not now that you've interrupted me," Miriam said, annoyed.

"Just go back to bed and stop playing about, will you? Miss Postulate will be fine." Simon said.

Miriam pushed her hair back out of her face. "I just wanted to say goodbye to her."

Neil drew a breath, and there was a loud sigh from Simon. "All right," he relented, "but you really won't make it unless we hurry."

"We?" Miriam asked. "What do you mean?"

"Well, the only way to get there is to take the carriage if it's there, of course!" Simon replied with great impatience. "Come on, idiot!" He grabbed her hand and pushed open the back door, and the three of them stepped outside.

"You can drive it?" Miriam asked, following obediently.

"I know the basics," he said, heading for the stables. "Come on, hurry up!"

The carriage was parked at the end of the stables. "Good thing I know how to back a horse through the posts," Neil muttered, "so you won't have to saddle up and ride."

"I could have done it," Simon argued, but he swung himself into the front seat. Miriam hopped in beside him, and Neil plunged into the dark stables, waving away Miriam's offer of help.

He returned with one of the horses, which whinnied in a sleepy way, and maneuvered it between the upright posts, offering a handful of oats as a reward. "Good show, Neil," Simon said as the animal, tossing its head, got into position. "Come on, get in."

Simon tried to hold the horse back, but it instantly began to move, annoyed at being disturbed from a late supper of oats. Neil was just able to grab the door as the vehicle slid past him, and he swung himself onto the seat beside Miriam.

Cautiously, Simon guided the horse through the gate onto the road, and he grinned suddenly. "This is something!" he said, slapping the horse with the reins. Its speed quickened in response.

Neil caught his mood and emitted a quiet whoop. "To the station, chap!" he said.

"Righty–ho, your Grace," Simon answered, increasing the speed and making Miriam gasp. Still, it was exhilarating riding down the lane, the tall bushes rushing by on either side.

"You've still got your pyjamas on!" she said suddenly, looking through the driver's window at Simon.

"Well, I've got a jumper on top," he said, turning the corner. "No one will notice – and if they do, they'll think I'm wearing striped pants. And besides, one of your stockings is coming down, and they don't match."

"I've got my trousers on," Neil blurted out. "Simon wanted to rush downstairs as soon as we heard someone creeping about, without stopping to change."

"So that's what you were doing down there in the dark," Miriam said. "Hunting for thieves. And you tell me I was playing about!" she added bitterly.

"Looks like we caught one, too," Simon said, reaching back and prodding her shirtfront, which bulged and crackled suspiciously.

"I thought Mana might be hungry," Miriam responded with injured dignity.

"I wouldn't mind a biscuit – that is what you've got, isn't it?" Simon said.

"Stop dribbling," Miriam said. "You'll just have to go hungry – these are for Mana!" A thought struck her. "Oh, Neil, I almost forgot! Mana told me to tell you that you have to go to Lampala, in case I can't. She said it was VERY important."

"To the island?" Neil asked, bewildered. "Why would she want me to know that?"

"I'm not sure why," Miriam said. "She just said that I have to go to Lampala, and to be sure to tell you."

"Look! The station!" Simon cried, pointing.

"And just in time too," Neil said. "Listen." He lowered the window of the carriage, and they heard the mournful whistle of the Night Watchman Express.

"Hurry, Simon," Miriam said, sitting up.

"I'd better leave it here in the dark," Simon said, rolling to a stop. "Neil, you stay here and watch the horse; I'll go with Miriam and find out what's happening, if anything."

"Very well," Neil said, rather disappointed. "Tell Miss Postulate I said goodbye."

Miriam smiled and opened the door. "I will," she said. "And Neil – thanks a lot."

"Come on," Simon said. He closed the door and headed off into the dark street, and Miriam, after giving Neil a wave, followed him.

The station appeared to be deserted, apart from one conductor who lounged on a bench under a dim lamp. Miriam had a feeling, however, as if the whole place was about to burst into great activity, perhaps because of the whistle and the clatter of the oncoming train, getting louder and louder and it drew near the station.

"There's no one here," Simon said, glancing around. "She probably already left, and we're making fools of ourselves, waltzing around like this."

"You're the one walking around in pyjamas and slippers," Miriam retorted.

Simon snorted. "We should just head back. You can always send her a letter."

"But I don't have her address! Let's at least wait until the train arrives," Miriam argued. Simon heaved a great sigh, but he resumed walking.

The whistle grew louder, and the train rounded the curve. Its bright lights flashed, revealing the track ahead, and Miriam caught her breath. The sound was like her dream. It was only a train, she reminded herself; no need to get into a flap. Still, she shivered and hugged herself.

The whistle died down, and the train chugged into the station. "Let's go and see," Miriam whispered. As she crept forward, a stone skittered on the street behind her, as if someone had kicked it. "Simon?" she whispered.

Something grabbed her from behind, and a large hand covered her mouth. She started to struggle. A dark cloth came over her face, and all she could see was darkness. She opened her mouth to scream, but something heavy knocked her on her head. She was aware of striking the ground, and feeling the sharp flints under one cheek. Nothing more.

Neil waited by the horse's head, checking his watch frequently. From where he was, he couldn't see the station, just the glow of the lamp that was on the platform. He heard the train arrive and he sat forward, but he still wasn't able to make out if Mana, or Miriam, or anybody was getting onto it from where he was.

A very long time seemed to pass, and he fell into a kind of doze. Finally the train hissed, sending out a huge puff of steam, and slowly it moved off.

Now they'll come back, Neil thought. He waited for a few minutes, and a few minutes more, but no one appeared in the street.

He simply couldn't stand by any longer. He got out and looked around, but the place was absolutely silent. He heard the clopping of a horse coming down the street, and he ducked quickly beside the car. The horse passed, pulling a cart, and as it continued down the land, Neil caught sight of a name that was painted on the side: J. Poole.

Poole! Wasn't that the name that Miriam had mentioned earlier? On that receipt, or piece of paper, or something that she had found? What on earth was going on? Cautiously he followed the cart, which drew up behind the station. Someone descended and knocked on a window of the square building. The door to the station opened, and someone was handed out – someone who looked very like, no, who was –

"Miss Postulate!" Neil said to himself. She appeared to be held by two men, and her head was slumping forward on her chest. Unceremoniously, they loaded her onto the front of the cart and the driver nipped back up beside her.

"The missus is feeling a little poorly tonight," he said, laughing nastily and putting an arm around the swaying body of the governess. Mana's head fell back against the armrest, and Neil saw that her eyes were closed.

"The instructions have changed," one of the men from the station said. "Received them just now. Take the goods to the dock, mind, and the next crew will be waiting for you there. And mind how you go; they don't want any interfering."

"No nosy parkering, aye," the driver agreed. "Care to have a swallow of the Old Blood and Guts before I take the lovely lady to the seaside?" He extracted a short, stout bottle from an interior pocket and waved it about.

"Can't," the voice said from the station, registering some regret. We've got to deal with the mistaken goods on the Night Watchmen. Train doesn't stop until final destination, see, and one of the little nippers aboard needs to be recalled."

"Eh?" the man in the cart said.

"No matter," the station voice said. "Be off with you now!"

The driver shrugged and picked up his whip. Without letting himself stop to think, Neil darted forward and jumped into the back of the cart, which appeared to be full of damp, moldy hay.

Scrunching down in the filthy stuff, he pulled his jumper up over his nose and mouth and tried not to breathe too deeply or to imagine where the hay had come from.

The cart lurched as the wheels turned, and they moved off, although in what direction, Neil couldn't tell. What would Simon and Miriam think when they came back to an empty carriage? Or – his stomach lurched – would they come back at all? The voice at the station had said something about "nippers" being on the train. Was it possible that Miriam and Simon had gotten on board the Night Watchman Express?

Perhaps he should jump off the cart and go to see what had happened to his friends! With great stealth, he peered out of the hay and over the back of the cart. They were bowling along; Neil felt that if he jumped out, he would break a leg or at least sprain an ankle.

Perhaps he should make himself known to the driver? He discarded that notion; there had been a nasty tone to the man's laughter. Neil felt that Poole, if that was the driver's name, would take to an unseen occupant of his cart none too kindly.

He reasoned that once he found out where the cart was actually going and what was going to happen to the governess, he could head off and foot it back to the house. If Miriam and Simon weren't there, he could alert Simon's parents and tell them what he had overheard at the station.

The road twisted and sloped down. It now seemed to be composed of lumpy cobblestones, and Neil was bounced about uncomfortably as they descended. "Ho, ho there," he could hear the driver saying to the horse. The animal was probably not at all happy about taking such a steep descent.

Finally they stopped. Neil could hear Mr. Poole shift on the seat. There was a small pop, which evidently was the small bottle being uncorked. Neil heard a series of slobbering, swallowing sounds followed by a loud "Aahhh."

Neil felt his foot cramping and his legs going to sleep, but he didn't dare move while the driver sat in the cart. After a few minutes, Poole began to sing loud, tuneless snatches of song about wenches, fights, and stealing other men's wives. From time to time, he chuckled richly to himself, especially after singing a particularly nasty rhyme.

Appalled, Neil tried not to listen, but the songs grew louder. He also heard the bottle being unstopped 'Pop' a second and a third time 'Pop', and Poole glugging at whatever vile liquid was within.

Neil moved into a more comfortable position, expecting to hear a cry from Poole, but nothing happened. He yawned suddenly and wrapped his arms on his knees. He would just close his eyes for a minute, he told himself.

He opened his eyes suddenly, hearing a loud, crunching sound as of something being dragged over stones. The sky was no longer dark. He could see gray and pink sky streaking through the chinks of the straw. He must have fallen asleep for a bit.

Cursing himself, Neil peered over the edge of the cart and found that they had stopped on a beach.

The driver and Miss Postulate were no longer on the front seat. The crunching sound, he saw as he craned his neck, came from a boat that was being dragged over the stones and sand down to the sea. Poole still held onto the governess, who was walking unsteadily. As he watched, Neil saw her try to push herself away from the man, but he held on tightly to her arm, breathing right into her face and grinning at her discomfort. "Beast," Neil said under his breath.

Still, this was the time to escape, if he was going to get away from the man. Looking around, he saw a mass of gorse bushes to one side. Quickly, he dropped out of the cart, nearly falling as the blood rushed back to his legs, and tottered over to the bush. Not minding the thorns, he pushed into the middle of the gorse and peered out at the sands.

From there, he could see the woman being handed into the boat, which was captained by three other men. Poole blew loud, smacking kisses at her and returned to the cart, grunting to himself with great good humor. Neil pulled himself further into the bush as the cart drove away.

Miss Postulate was now sitting between two figures in the boat. Neil could see that her hands had been tied behind her back.

The crew began rowing, steering the boat out to sea. Neil could tell, from the way they were straining at the oars, that they were unused to the ocean and the high waves. Still, they made progress, and the boat slowly faded away into the mist that had sprung up.

With great effort, Miriam opened her eyes. Ouch, she said to herself. It hurt to open her eyes and look at the light, but she forced her head up to see where she was.

At least that sack wasn't over her eyes anymore, but her hands and feet were still securely tied. In front of her on the ground, lay Simon, his eyes closed and his head tilted back at a funny angle.

Her heart gave a horrible lurch in her chest. She gasped and nudged him with both feet. "Simon! Are you all right? Simon, wake up! Oh, please don't be-"

He groaned suddenly, and opened his eyes. "Don't be what?" he asked.

"Thank goodness," she said with relief. "I thought you were –"

"Was what?" he asked, licking dry lips and blinking in a befuddled manner. "Where are we?"

Miriam considered. The ground was rocking beneath her, and she could hear a rhythmic clacking outside. "I'd say we were on the Night Watchman Express," she said. She shuddered.

He groaned again and sat up. This was a rather complicated maneuver, as his hands were tied as well. "Say again? The train, you mean? We can't be. Why would we be?"

"Who knows," Miriam answered. Her head hurt abominably, and she was certain that she had a large lump on her forehead.

"Well, let's just shout and make them understand they've got the wrong people," Simon said. He began to yell out, "Oy!.. Hullo there!.. Oy!"

The door opened after a few minutes of shouting and a guard pushed his head in to glare at them. "Lay off of it," he said at once.

"Listen, my good man, you've got hold of the wrong people," Simon said confidently. "Let us off at the next station, please, and my father will reimburse you for any expenses."

"'Strewth! 'Reimburse me for expenses', eh?" The guard laughed mirthlessly, and he leaned down and gave Simon's ear a violent twist. "Make a noise like that again and I'll stuff my old socks into your mouth to keep you quiet and give you a bash on the head in the bargain."

Miriam cleared her throat, and the guard looked at her. "Well?" he barked.

"Please, sir," she said, giving him a winning smile, "my arms hurt ever so much. Could you please untie us? We promise we won't go anywhere, don't we, Simon?"

Simon stared at her. "Oh, yes – yes, what she said. We really won't try anything funny."

The guard laughed. "Ha! Not bloody likely!"

"There's money in my shirtfront," Miriam wheedled. "You can have it all."

The guard frowned. "'Spose there's not you CAN do. No place to go, see?" He bent down and fished out the money from Miriam's pinafore, as well as the biscuits and apples. "Hm!" he said, looking at the food. "Might get peckish later."

Pulling out a penknife, he cut the rope binding their wrists and feet. Straightening up with some difficulty, the guard walked away, stowing Miriam's money and the food in one pocket. He closed the door with finality, and they heard his footsteps retreating.

Simon rubbed the skin on his wrists. "Ouch," he said. "That really hurt."

"Well, aren't you going to thank me?" Miriam demanded. "I got us free!"

"We're not free," Simon insisted. "In case you hadn't noticed, we seem to be rushing along in a train. I don't feel like jumping off a moving engine, thank you very much."

"Oh ho, so you admit that I'm right now!" Miriam replied with some spirit.

Simon frowned. "My point is that we're not free, and it's ridiculous to say so."

"Well, at least I can scratch my nose now," Miriam said, itching violently. "And, it's more than you were able to do, being all posh and trying to order people about. At least I was able to accomplish something." She screwed her face into a horrible, mimicking expression. "Listen to me, 'my good man'! What were you thinking?"

Simon rolled his eyes. Groaning, he got up and half rolled, half crawled next to her, leaning against the wall of the train carriage. "Maybe I didn't strike the right tone," he admitted.

"I'll say."

"Well, since you have all the answers, now what are we going to do?" Simon asked.

Miriam looked at him. "Obviously, we have to wait until we get where we're going. We can't do anything now."

"Well, thank you for pointing out the obvious," Simon said. "Whatever would I do without you here to set me straight?"

"Still be tied up, for one," Miriam retorted.

"Oh, we'll never hear the end of that now, I suppose."

"And once we get to where we're going, do try not to call anyone 'my good man'."

"Oh, be quiet," Simon said wearily.

## Epilogue: What Happened to Nelly

NELLY WAS ASLEEP, dreaming of looking down at a great cage that hung down from a huge cliff. Was there – someone in the cage?

She opened her mouth to scream, feeling herself falling off the cliff, and was jolted awake. Lord bless us and save us, she said to herself, sitting up in the dark and putting one hand over her heart. No more cocoa and marmalade pudding after hours, she thought. That was a nasty dream, make no mistake!

She started to pull up the covers and lie down again, but she heard a small sound from below. Her heart beat quicker. Well, I can't just lie here with those doings underneath me, she reasoned and got out of bed.

Nelly padded downstairs and stopped on the landing by Miss Miriam's room. The door was closed, but Nelly had the feeling that something had happened there recently.

Her mother, back at her home, had always told her she was a great girl for her 'feelings'. Once, she had picked out which of her sisters had taken her new hair ribbon, just by looking at them. And once, she had found the gold sovereign that her father had buried and forgotten, just by walking over the spot.

She felt the same vibration now, a kind of movement in the air. Without hesitating, she turned the handle and peered into the room.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph!" she said. Miriam's bed was empty, and the girl was nowhere to be seen.

Nelly cautiously approached the window. No, nothing there, thank goodness. For a moment, she had feared that the young girl was hanging in a cage –

Now stop that, Nelly said, giving herself a mental shake. That was a dream and nothing more than a dream. A cage! What next?

She turned to go, and stubbed her toe painfully on something left out on the floor of the room. "Oh, the brute!" Nelly said, hopping on one foot and holding her toe.

The door opened. Mrs. Marchpane marched in. "What is all this noise?" She noticed the empty bed. "Where is that dreadful child?" she added. "And – what are you doing here?"

Nelly let go of her toe and bobbed a curtsy. "If you please, ma'am, I heard a noise and came down to investigate, begging your pardon, ma'am. And I hurt meself in the dark, on that –"

She pointed to the CROWN PHOENIX. Mrs. Marchpane gasped and bent down. "Is that what I think it is?" she murmured. She picked up the typing machine and looked at it, turning it this way and that. "Yes, I believe it is!"

She looked around, and recalled to whom she was speaking. "Go back to bed at once," she snapped at Nelly. Breaking into a run, she dashed out of the room, shouting, "Virgil! Virgil, come quickly! Come and see! This changes everything!"

End of Part One

# Part Two: Big Star Island

## CHAPTER 1: The Storm

NEIL SAT BACK in the boat and let the oars drop. The palms of his hands, long unused to prolonged rowing, were scarred with welts and blisters. His chest ached as he gasped for air.

The sun overhead was fiercely hot, but the heat felt as though it would change soon. "Storm," Neil said dully to himself. He knew that he really should pick up the oars and try to row closer to the big island, but somehow he ceased to care if he arrived there or not.

Once Mana had been loaded from the cart onto the boat, the two men had pushed off from the shore and headed towards the big island. After waiting for about half an hour, Neil crept up to a fishing dinghy that lay dragged up on the beach, well away from the incoming tide, and dragged it down to the water. Sin number one: stealing a boat, the worst crime possible for the son of a fisherman.

At the water's edge, Neil had hesitated, unsure of what he should do next. Miriam's message from Mana to him was – Make it to Lampala. In the end, he jumped into the boat and rowed after the large sailing skiff, which had disappeared into the distance at that point. Sin number two: leaving his friends behind.

Why had he done it? Was it because of his extreme bravery and loyalty to Simon and Miriam? Or was it because he just hadn't been thinking? In all honesty, Neil admitted it was probably the latter.

He could just imagine what would happen during the next few weeks. After their disappearance was discovered, Simon's parents would go on a rampage. The event would be credited to Neil, who had been born to parents who gutted fish for a living. The Marchpanes would hold his own mother and father responsible.

As the summer ended and the term began, his name would be duly crossed off the register, and his scholarship would be cancelled. Sin number three, he thought, was abandoning his family and their plans for his future, which were to support his parents eventually. That one was the worst sin of all.

Neil groaned and squeezed his eyes shut, more against his rushing thoughts than the burning sun. His parents would be bewildered by the fuss and publicity, frightened, and angry. At that point they would realize that their son had left them for good, perhaps taking his two rich friends with him.

However, somehow he just couldn't turn back. There had been something very defenseless about the way Mana had been sitting in the cart beside the drunken, singing driver. Perhaps if he found her, she could help him find Simon and Miriam as well, and he could clear his name.

And after that - what? Maybe, if his parents forgave him, they would take him in and he could go fishing for his father. Forget the careers they had envisioned for him – teacher in the local school, clerk in a greengrocer's, or, what his mother most hoped for, a curate.

It would be back to mending nets and watching for the large shoals of fish that came in during a storm, and rushing out in the cold and wet, getting soaked by the huge waves and the rain in order to get a bigger catch. Sitting in the little boat, Neil knew that he had just irrevocably changed his life for the worse.

Remembering the storm at hand, Neil opened one eye and looked at the sky. A yellow haze moved over the sun, in front of an ominous pack of dark clouds. He sat up and winced as he picked up the oars. As the rough wood bit into his blisters, he admonished himself, "Don't complain, you big useless idiot. You used to be able to row for days. Just start to move and don't stop." But I just want to lie down! his back complained. "Well, you can't," Neil retorted and realized that he was arguing with parts of his own body. Loneliness had made him goony.

To keep his mind away from his aches and pains, Neil thought about Simon and how they had become friends. When he had walked into his assigned study, that first day at Firbury, and seen Simon, he originally wanted to turn around and run back home. There was no way that he could become friends or even talk to this bright-haired, handsome, athletic, well-dressed, rich boy he had been assigned to as a study-mate! But Simon had turned around, and instead of howling with derision at the sight of a shabby charity case with glasses, had immediately stuck out his hand and said with a grin, "Name's Simon. You must be Neil. Want a toffee?"

After getting over his astonishment, Neil had accepted the hand and the toffee, and they had gone on to become friends. They both liked mechanics and mathematics, although Simon was also a fast runner and a bruising rider. Neil wouldn't have known which leg to throw over a horse and would probably end up sitting facing its bottom. When it came to geometry and algebra, however, Neil left Simon far behind and was even able to help him with his lessons.

Popular with girls, as well as with the other boys, at Firbury, Simon was soon inundated with invitations to parties. He refused to accept any of them if Neil wasn't invited as well, and soon the son of a fisherman found himself sitting down to tea and jam buns with the sons of dukes and other unimaginables.

The wind suddenly buffeted the boat, and a few icy drops of rain stung Neil's face and blurred his lenses. He reached under the wooden seat and felt for the glass collecting-bottle that was surely kept in the bottom of the boat. Yes, there it was. He could now get some rainwater and have a drink.

There was a wrapped packet as well, and Neil opened it eagerly. Just as he had hoped, it contained a flat cake of ship's biscuit. The food was hard and stale, but it was something he could chew on. He managed to gnaw off a large bite, and he munched on it gladly. At that moment, after following trains and carts all night and a boat for most of the morning, it was delicious, even though it was dry as sawdust and threatened to choke him with crumbs.

The rain picked up and Neil licked the bottom of the collecting bottle, picking up a few drops with his tongue. It was cold and wet, but it let him swallow the dry food. The wind smacked the boat again, and he had to grab the oars so they wouldn't slide into the water. Holding them with one hand, he managed to wrap up the rest of the biscuit in its greased paper, and he steadied the bottle with his feet.

When Simon had invited Neil to spend the summer at his house, he couldn't believe it. To stay in a large manor, with real servants, and ten-course meals, and no family underfoot had seemed like a dream. He had met Miriam, the daughter of a millionaire, and had eventually become friends with her. Of course, he thought to himself with a snort, she acted more like a boy in the lower years at Firbury School than a rich young heiress. In fact, she usually had ink smeared on her clothes (especially when she was in the throes of writing a story) and her hair never stayed tidy.

Like a bull charging at a red cloak, the next gust of wind hit him in the back and nearly pitched him forward. He lost his grip on the collecting bottle, and he heard a clink as it skittered merrily across the bottom of the boat. Neil was preoccupied, however, with getting the prow (if you could call it that in such a tiny fishing skiff) down as he met the oncoming waves so he wouldn't be bowled over backwards.

The waters roared higher and higher, and the dinghy was lifted up by the surf and subsequently dropped so that Neil was bounced uncomfortably on the hard, wooden seat. There was no need to row any longer; all he could do was to clutch the oars and try to guide the boat in what he believed was the right direction.

The storm increased, and he had to let go in order to keep his seat and not get pitched out of the boat; one oar immediately slipped through the oarlock and was lost in the ocean. Rain pelted him horizontally, and the wind that had been at his back now shifted so the water was blown into his face. "Blast," Neil swore, feeling the light pullover that he was wearing quickly got soaked, and he shivered uncontrollably.

In the manner of some violent storms, the wind died down quickly, and the waves suddenly calmed and flattened. Neil, who thought he was going to end up in the deep, suddenly realized that the boat was no longer rocking violently.

He let out his breath in one whoosh, not knowing until that moment that he had been holding it in his lungs. "Whoa!" he said to no one in particular. "That was close!" He felt for the collecting bottle and realized that he must have lost it in the storm.

The wind and rain might have gone, but he was now in a worse position without a way to guide the boat or to collect water to drink. He also had no idea what his position was, since the wind had blown him off course. He pushed at the ocean waves with his one oar, cursing to himself. What a ridiculous position for the son of a fishing family to be in!

The sun reappeared and burned the back of his neck. Neil continued to steer as best he could through the calmed sea, but finally his body gave up. His arms simply would not respond. Neil flopped onto his back and covered his face, and after a while he slid into an uncomfortable sleep. Some time passed. He slid in and out of dreams about water, the sound and taste of it, and woke to hear the waves sloshing against the side of the boat.

He had to fight the urge to reach over and gulp a mouthful of the salty, lethal sea. His parents shouted at him to sit up and get a move on. "Wake up, Neil!" his mother screamed. "They will put her into the cage! And your sisters and I are in trouble as well..."

With a start, he opened his eyes and realized that he had been dreaming, and the sun was now a smudge on the horizon. The day had come to an end.

Apathetically, Neil closed his eyes again. Darkness claimed him quickly, but this time he saw Mana. She sat in a cage made of some dark, heavy wood that was suspended from a stout iron chain, and her head was bowed over her clasped hands. Neil could see rocks and blue water beyond the bars of the cage, which hung over a high precipice. If she did manage to escape from the prison somehow, she would fall and be smashed on the spiked, hungry stones below her.

Neil saw the scene so clearly that he could hear the loud waves against the rocks. The cage twisted in the sea breeze. Mana looked up and stared straight into his eyes. Her mouth moved, and although Neil couldn't hear her words, somehow he knew what she was trying to say. You must try, he saw her say. You must not give up. You must keep going.

Neil tried to speak back to her, but his swollen tongue wouldn't move in his mouth. The attempt, however, woke him up again and he looked up at a bottomless sky littered with stars. He blinked, not sure if he was dreaming or awake, and Mana's silent words echoed in his head.

Help me, somebody, Neil said to the stars. I am too tired to care about myself anymore. Just help me rescue her if it's at all possible, and help me to find my friends.

The stars glittered back in an uncaring way. Neil repeated his exhausted plea and tried to sit up but couldn't.

Did he feel the boat move? Perhaps it was a dream brought on by thirst and fever. It bumped once or twice against something and seemed to travel steadily. As he watched, the stars began to slide past him, and the boat appeared to pick up speed.

Neil closed his eyes again, not daring to hope. After a time, how long it was he had no way of knowing, he suddenly heard something – a rhythmic, liquid noise.

He shook his head and managed to pull himself upright, staring forward. There it was again – and suddenly Neil knew what it was he was hearing – the hiss of waves on a beach.

"What?" he said, his words furred with thirst. The boat bumped again, and he turned to squint at the water behind and beneath him. Did he see a long, pale shape, or two, beneath the surface?

Suddenly there was a more violent bump, and the boat overturned. Neil rolled into the sea and sank, arms and legs waving in a desperate attempt to stay afloat. He broke surface, gasping and turned around in the water, listening for the waves. He set out for the sound, swimming with his very last reserve of strength.

His hand suddenly touched something hard, and he realized that he had reached a hard, wet stretch of sand. He pitched forward and lay with his head on a rock, coughing and retching. The stars wheeled above him, and in an instant they were all extinguished in velvety darkness.

## CHAPTER 2: Riki

SOMEONE WAS MAKING a horrible noise somewhere. Neil listened for a moment and realized the gasps and rattles were the sound of his own breath. His glasses, which by some miracle he still had in one hand, were coated with salt and dirt, and his mouth, half-open like that of a haddock displayed in a shop window, was pressed into the sand so that the grains coated his teeth. He wanted to spit the stuff out, but he had no energy to sit up or move.

His eyelids fluttered, and he realized that the black bars striping his face were the shadows of the palm leaves above him, swaying in a soft breeze. "Urgh," he said and tried to push himself up, but his hands slipped and he flopped back into the sand.

The stripes moved across his face, and Neil wondered idly how long he had been unconscious on the white beach. He could hear the gentle hiss of the waves. One lapped on his foot, soaking his flannel pant leg. "Urgh," he said again.

With a start, he noticed that the shadows no longer lay across his face; sunlight now forced its way through the leaves and blinded him. He must have drifted in and out of sleep, but there was no was no way to tell what time it was, or how many hours had passed since he had – floated? Been pushed? – onto the beach.

There was a sudden, loud clatter behind him, and he heard the squawk of an outraged parrot as it was disturbed from its perch. The sound increased in volume, and a pair of long, brown legs passed like a rapid pair of scissors that moved quickly in and out of his vision. Someone was on his or her way, maybe to the sea. Neil tried to say something to the owner of the legs, but the sand in his mouth threatened to choke him.

The footsteps suddenly ceased, and Neil got the feeling that the person, or thing, had become aware of him. An instant later, a small shadow blocked the sun, and a gruff voice demanded, "Ipa! Jemanja!"

Neil exerted every muscle and strained to move. He managed to turn his head towards the voice. All he could see, however, was a thin silhouette, blue from the sunlight behind it.

"Ipa!" the blue silhouette demanded again. "Poyareni! Fet zenze meloza!"

He managed to push himself up on one arm, but he simply couldn't hold his head up.

"Bwah," the voice said in a disgusted tone. The shadow bent closer and peered at Neil; after a moment, it wound one eel-like arm under his neck and hauled him upright with surprising strength.

For a moment, Neil imagined that he had been rescued by a very tall, thin monkey with long black hair. One narrow hand pushed back the dark curtain that hung in front of her eyes, and he saw that it was a girl. Her bright, inquisitive eyes looked into his, and she nodded to herself. "Edo, kum-kum." She stood up and pulled on his arm.

Neil staggered to his feet and almost fell again, but the skinny arm wound around his waist and supported him. "Lunewe gobe." She dragged him away from the waves and towards a group of rocks beside a rising stone slope, surrounded by more palm trees and tall blades of bamboo. His vision still obscured from the sun, Neil squinted at where she was headed, in between two of the bigger rocks. His limbs felt more like legs instead of rubber, but Neil managed to hobble beside her. He wanted to say thanks, or even to tell her his name, but his throat was choked with severe, painful thirst.

Neil stopped. He heard it once and again, the laughing gurgle of a freshwater stream. Energy coursed through his body and he broke away from the girl towards the sound of cool, blessed water. "Ipa!" she cried.

Neil had no thought or reason left. The only thing he had in mind was to push his way towards the hidden river.

He had to go between two rocks that stood like a pair of sentinels. In his haste he banged his shoulder on one, but he no longer cared for anything except his dry throat. On the other side of the rocks, the sand ended and there was a broad expanse of deep, velvet grass. A little stream coursed down the other side of the small mountain, and Neil immediately fell down and plunged his head into it.

Water! Pure, crystal, water! He had never known how delicious it was until he swallowed that first mouthful. His hands gripped the stones and he tipped his head back, allowing the liquid to soak his head, his hair, and his clothes.

"Jemanja!" the girl called again, racing over to where he stood, gasping with the effort to drink faster.

"Riki," someone else said behind him. Neil couldn't stop drinking to turn and see who it was, however; it was simply physically impossible to stop.

"Chichilia!" the girl replied.

Neil pushed himself back and wiped his dripping mouth with one forearm. He was in a wide garden, and the stream from which he drank ran into a little pond where large gold and red fish swam and flicked their tails at each other.

The rocky slope on one side created a natural border, and the other side was hemmed in by a stone wall. The stones themselves had been carved with smiling heads, patterns of waves, women with tails like fish and long strands of seaweed. Flowers rioted over an arch set into the wall, obviously planted and trained to grow in ordered confusion in the garden. As he looked around in stunned silence, Neil saw more stone carvings set in among fruit trees, flowering vines and ornamental grasses. In a far corner, there was even a huge birdcage, inhabited by a large parrot. The garden, for that was where he was, gave the effect of color, shade and great beauty.

"Jumanja," the voice said again. The thin hand tugged on his sleeve, and he turned to see the girl who had rescued him beside an older woman. She would have been very attractive if it weren't for the lines on her forehead and the worried expression in her eyes. They both stared at him, obviously expecting something.

Neil cleared his throat, and croaked. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Hullo. I'm Neil. Neil!" He banged on his chest with one hand for emphasis. "I come from – there," he added, waving one arm towards the sea in a desperate attempt to make these island women understand what he was saying.

"Oh," the older woman said, "of course. You speak Henry's language. Forgive my daughter; she is young and didn't think."

"You speak English!" Neil blurted.

"Of course we do," the young girl said impatiently. "Did you think that we talk in grunts?"

"Riki," the woman said in a warning tone. "Enough now. Neil – is that right? – won't you come inside and have a proper drink?" She gestured towards the end of the garden, where a long, low house was set in among the vines and bougainvillea.

"Is that where you live?" Neil gaped at the beautiful villa.

The girl, Riki, folded her arms and rolled her eyes upwards. "Expecting a grass hut?"

"One more word from you," the woman said to the girl, "and I will send you to Mixiamani next week to tend the pigs, do you hear?" Riki's only response was a scornful laugh.

The woman sighed and shook her head, and Neil quickly intervened. "She's right, Miss, er, Mrs., uh, madam. That was very rude of me. My thirst must have gone to my –" he swayed suddenly, and his head buzzed with exhaustion and confusion. The bright garden before him swam in his vision. Instantly, the woman was at his side, and she put one hand on his arm.

"This way, Mr. Neil. My name is Chichilia, by the way. Do come inside, and you can have a drink, and a small bite to eat, and you can rest and get clean. Our home is modest, but I believe that you will find it comfortable."

She guided him down a serpentine path as she spoke, and as they neared the house Neil gasped. "It's beautiful!"

Riki, who skipped in front of them, turned to cast him another look of scorn, but he didn't notice as he tipped back his head and stared.

A porch, shaded and set with seats, couches and even hanging chairs, bordered the front. Above, a balcony ran the entire length of the house, onto which at least ten sets of double doors opened. The entire structure was made of dark, rich-looking wood.

The pillars that supported the balcony above the porch were carved into more figures. There were twisting snakes, acrobatic fish and even one elongated squid. Long tables on both the balcony and the porch held small figurines done in the same style. Tall, elegant pedestals held vases full of flowers and bowls of fruit. Neil couldn't help staring at one particularly ripe mango, and his stomach contracted.

"Sit down here, Mr. Neil." Chichilia showed him a wide chair studded with cushions. Neil collapsed onto the seat and leaned his head back.

"Gosh, thanks very much," he said. A horrid thought struck him, and he added, "I'm a little dirty, I'm afraid. Spent the night on the beach, I think. I hope I'm not –"

"You're right," Riki said. "You're filthy. In my entire life, I have never seen anyone as dirty as you are right now."

"Riki!" Chichilia said. "The pigs, do you hear me? Go and tell Odjo to bring juice and snacks."

Riki pulled her face into an upside-down smile and thrust her tongue out at her mother when Chichilia wasn't looking. She hopped inside the house, saying, "Pigs! Bwah! Chichilia is such a wart!"

Chichilia closed her eyes for a moment before she sat down on a chair opposite Neil. "I'm afraid she is a bit spoiled. She is the youngest of our family, and her brothers sometimes tend to over-indulge her. But now, what is your history? How did you arrive here on Lampala?"

"So this is Lampala!" Neil exclaimed. "I was afraid that I got blown off course. I set out in a boat yesterday morning, and I ran into a storm –" He reflected that he couldn't possibly explain the reason why he had come to the island, or how he had been pushed onto the sand.

"And you came alone?" Chichilia raised one eyebrow.

"I know it sounds strange," Neil said. "I came here because I wanted to find someone."

Riki popped out of the door. "Told Odjo." She jerked one thumb back towards the recesses of the house. "I'm going to go and fish now."

"You will do no such thing." Chichilia raised one finger and shook it at Riki. "You will sit and talk to our guest and show him some manners."

"Don't let me interfere with your plans," Neil said, feeling uncomfortable.

"Of course not, Mr. Neil," Chichilia said. "Now sit down, Riki, do you hear me?"

With more eye-rolling, Riki edged her way towards a chair as slowly as possible and sat on the very edge of it.

"Now, Mr. Neil, you were saying?" Chichilia turned back to him.

"La, la la," Riki loudly sang, keeping one eye on her mother, who opened her mouth to expostulate. The door opened at that moment, and a hugely fat man rolled out with at least five dishes balanced on one mighty arm. In the other hand, he bore a large pitcher, which he set in front of Chichilia.

"Vadugo, Odjo," Chichilia said.

The giant smiled and responded, "Nulagoha, logogona." He put down the dishes and gestured to Neil, saying, "Miruti, Jamanja! Miruti!"

Neil bobbed his head confusedly, and Chichilia repeated, "Vadugo." The giant bowed deeply a few times, and backed away to a little cupboard, and began to pull out cups, plates and napkins.

Riki ran forward and began dipping her hand in the various plates. "Ooh, fried plantains!" She stuffed food into her mouth. "And marinated tentacles!"

"Riki," Chichilia said again.

"Riki, Riki, Riki," the girl chanted and cast her eyes up to the heavens again. Privately, Neil agreed; he was already tired of hearing the name Riki repeated.

Odjo, the cook, solved the problem. He returned to the table and plopped down glasses and linens. He lazily curled one pink and brown hand around Riki's collar and lifted her up in the air to deposit her back in her seat.

"Vadugo, Odjo," Chichilia said. The fat man bowed a few more times and retired with a broad grin on his face. "Mr. Neil, would you like some of our island delicacies?" She heaped one plate with food as she spoke.

"Gosh, yes!" Neil said. The smell from the plates made him feel faint. He tried to eat as slowly as he could, but the food was delicious, and he couldn't help pushing it into his mouth as quickly as the vile Riki herself had done.

"Now, Riki, you may help yourself, but put it on a plate." Chichilia poured pale orange nectar from the pitcher into a glass and setting it in front of Neil.

Riki darted forward and shoved more food onto a dish. "Are you going to live here now?" she asked Neil suddenly.

He shook his head and swallowed a mouthful of coconut rice mixed with seeds and raisins. "I must go and find someone. A friend of mine." He took a long swallow of the orange drink, which was cold, sweet, and delicious. "Gosh, this is good! Em, besides, I don't want to intrude."

"Nonsense. It is no intrusion," Chichilia said instantly. She picked up a yam fritter and bit into it delicately. "Please stay with us for as long as you require."

As he watched her eat, Neil was reminded of his table manners. He wiped his mouth with a large, intricately embroidered napkin.

"No, I must –" A sudden, rattling yawn shook him.

Chichilia stood up. "Have a rest inside, and we can talk later," she said. "Come with me, and I'll show you to a room where you can sleep." She stood and opened the door, and Neil followed reluctantly.

"I don't want to –" Another yawn seized him, and she put a hand on his arm to draw him inside.

"We'll talk later," she repeated insistently, leading him into the house. Neil had a confused impression of cool darkness, huge rooms, and more beautifully carved furniture.

Riki pushed past him and ran upstairs, hopped onto the banister and slid down, and pushed her way up again. Neil braced himself as the girl darted up the steps, and Chichilia said warningly, "Riki!"

The girl, unheeding, whizzed past on the banister again. As she mounted the stairs for the third time, she asked, "Where's he going to sleep it off? In the Serpent Room?"

"I thought the Nautilus Chamber," Chichilia answered.

"I'm not drunk!" Neil protested.

Riki pulled down her eyelids with her long fingers and thrust her tongue out at him before she dashed down a long hallway to a set of double doors, inlaid with the usual ornate carvings, and pulled them open.

The three of them entered, and Neil exclaimed again. The room was patterned with mother of pearl so that it appeared that they had, indeed, entered the shell of a huge sea creature. In the middle of the large room, a huge bed reposed which was circular in shape, surrounded by sheer nets that hung from the high ceiling.

Chichilia gestured to the bed, and Neil said, looking down at his shirtfront, "I should really have a bath first. I don't want to dirty your sheets."

"Nonsense!" she said. "There are extra things in the trunk there carved with starfish. I'm sure you'll find something that fits you." Ignoring his protests, she gripped Riki's shoulder, bodily dragged the girl out of the room, and closed the door behind her.

Neil shed his filthy clothes with great relief and pattered over to the chest. The lid opened to an array of fine cotton shirts, folded neatly among small bags of herbs to keep them smelling sweet. Neil grabbed one, thrust it over his head, and fell onto the bed.

Just before he fell asleep, one of the tall wooden shutters opened and a banana skin sailed into the room, past where he lay, to land directly on his flannel pants where they lay on the floor, covered in sand. The shutters were closed again. There was one final cry from outside.

"Riki!"

## CHAPTER 3: The Family

NEIL WOKE UP in a comfortable cotton nest. He heard the sound of water as it gurgled nearby. After suffering from that huge thirst earlier, he would always consider it to be the most beautiful sound in the world, he reflected. For a moment, he lay with his eyes closed and a smile on his face.

He suddenly was gripped with the dreadful certainty that someone was in the room with him. Opening his eyes and sitting bolt upright, Neil saw Odjo. The huge man poured steaming water into a sunken bath in one far corner of the room. He caught sight of the boy, smiled broadly and bowed five or six times. "Jumanja! " he thundered, waving at the bath. "Lunewe! " With another bow, he set a pile of towels by the tub and backed out of the room.

Neil felt incredibly dirty. He hopped out of bed and went over to the bath, which was huge and circular, like the bed. He dipped one toe in, pulled his nightshirt off, and quickly stepped in. "Aaaaah." He sighed and relaxed in the warm water. His eyes closed. I could stay here for the next two hours, he thought.

A sudden image came to him of Mana. As he had seen her earlier, in a dream, she hung in the horrible cage off the end of a cliff. The thing twisted in the wind as she tried to shout to him. That thought made him sit up and start washing hurriedly. Where had those men taken her? Maybe she was really being held in a squalid jail cell, or in a room somewhere, or in a dungeon. Maybe she wasn't on the island at all. Wherever she was, he couldn't relax and luxuriate in a bath forever while his friends were hauled off on a mysterious train, and Mana was kidnapped.

He soaped himself again and got out of the bath, his skin steaming slightly. The towels that Odjo had left for him were huge and soft. He wrapped himself in one in order to go in search of clothes, as his dirty pants and pullover were nowhere to be seen. Sure enough, the faithful Odjo had also left a small pile of clean garments which included a long tunic and a pair of loose cotton pants that did up with a drawstring. Neil put them on, along with some soft leather slippers with pointed toes that lay beside the clothes.

He decided to go and look for Chichilia. He wanted to thank her for the clothes, the nap, and the bath. He also had to tell her that he had to push on, once he had paid his debt to her.

As he opened one of the huge doors, Neil nearly tripped over Riki. The girl sat with her long, spider legs stretched out across the doorway. Her untidy black hair had been braided into many thin little pigtails and pulled onto the top of her head. At least, half of it had – one side of her hair still swung loose. Obviously, halfway through the hairdo, Riki had grown bored of the braiding process.

Seeing him, she bounced up and inspected him from head to toe without a jot of shame. "You look clean." She sniffed his skin. "You smell cleaner, too. You stank before. "

Neil edged away from her. "You try getting lost in a storm and almost dying of thirst and see how clean you are after," he retorted.

Instead of getting annoyed, Riki merely shrugged and tugged on his arm. "Come on," she said. "Jirili and Kakujife will be home soon, along with Wekogono. I want them to meet you."

"Who are Jirrylee and Cakojiffy?" Neil asked, stumbling over the names.

Riki laughed, snorting loudly. "Jirili and Kakujife and Wekogono. My brothers and my father."

"Jirili and Kakujife –"

"And Wekogono."

"Got it," Neil said. "And what does Jumanja mean?"

"It means Boy," Riki said. "Like you." She poked him in the ribs with one hard finger.

"Right," Neil said, surreptitiously allowing her to get ahead of him so she was out of reach. "How about Vadugo?"

"Means 'thanks,'" Riki said, beginning to swell up with importance in her new role as interpreter.

"Vadugo," Neil repeated.

Chichilia appeared at the bottom of the stairs, wearing a long white dress that flowed from a stiff collar encrusted with what looked like real pearls. "Mr. Neil!" she said gladly. "I hope you slept well!"

Neil approached her and bowed. "Vadugo," he said, using one of the words he had just learned.

Riki screamed with delight, and turned to her mother. "Chichilia!" she demanded. "I taught him that word! Hey, did you see him bow to you just now? What a complete idiot!"

Chichilia opened her mouth, probably to shout 'Riki!', but Neil forestalled her. "Thank you very much for letting me sleep, and giving me a bath and - for everything," he finished lamely. Already he owed her an incredible debt, and he had no way to repay it.

She smiled and gestured towards a doorway. He followed her into a wide room with a long table that had been set with more bowls of fruit and flowers. Riki immediately took a chair, sat in it, and held on with both hands to the arms. The long, smooth muscles in her arms worked as she began to rock it back and forth.

"Riki –"

"And thank you for the clothes as well," Neil continued desperately. "Maybe I can do some work for you to repay you."

Riki stopped rocking the chair and stared at him openmouthed. "You're actually offering to work?" she asked.

"Well, of course," Neil frowned. "I owe your mother a huge debt." And you saved my life, he thought, but he didn't bother to say it to her and give her the satisfaction.

Riki considered this for a moment and seemed on the brink of questioning him further when the door to the room opened. A tall, bearded man entered, followed by two others that looked like younger copies of the first. This had to be Jirili, Kakujife and Wekogono, Neil thought.

"Djire, Weko!" Chichilia approached the older man and kissed his cheek. He wrapped his arms around his wife and squeezed her for a moment. She hugged him and stepped back to gesture at Neil. "Weko, meet Mr. Neil, who arrived in Lampala this morning."

"Well, that's a polite way of putting it," Neil said, bobbing his head awkwardly at the huge man.

In an important manner, Riki added, "I found him on the beach. He was nearly dead. I dragged him back home." She spoiled the effect by pleading, "Can I keep him?"

Her father turned and considered Neil for a moment, looking at him with an unblinking stare. Behind him, the two brothers also inspected him, and Neil wished suddenly that he could be back in Firbury College, or in his family's cottage back home, or on the train with Miriam and Simon; anywhere, in fact, except for where he was.

Finally, Wekogono looked at his wife and said, "You have, too tender, a heart, Chichilia. You shouldn't take in strangers just because Riki has found them; this boy could be dangerous." The two brothers nodded slowly in agreement.

Acutely uncomfortable, Neil cleared his throat and said, "I, em, I'm very sorry that I invaded your home, Mr. Wekogono. I know that I owe you and your wife a huge debt, and I am willing to work for you, if you will allow me to do so. And I assure you that I mean no harm to you or to your family."

"And I assure you that I mean no harm," Riki echoed in an exaggeratedly deep voice, and giggled. "Vadugo!" she added, in a perfect example of Neil's attempt to speak Lampalan, or whatever the language was called. She simpered and bowed with a loud laugh at her own wit.

"Riki!" Chichilia called, and the men winced. Obviously, they were just as tired of hearing it as Neil was.

"I think I'll change my name," Riki complained, but she subsided.

"She has been very bad today," Chichilia said to her husband. "But now, we cannot stand around and discuss this now. Can't we all at least sit down and eat, and talk like human beings?"

"Of course, Chichilia," Weko replied and took a seat. The brothers followed suit, and Neil was gently pushed towards a chair by Chichilia.

"Sit and eat, Mr. Neil," she said. "Odjo!"

Another door in the far wall opened, and the omnipresent Odjo entered with a huge tray of steaming bowls and platters. "Djire, Magano." Odjo put a large plate in front of Wekogono.

"Djire." Weko leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes tiredly. The fat cook smiled and bowed at least ten times before he retreated, presumably to his kitchen.

"Are you tired, Weko?" Chichilia put one hand over his.

"It was a long week." Weko picked up one of the bowls and handed it to Neil.

It was filled with what looked like huge shrimp, coated with spices and bursting out of their shells. Neil ladled a few onto his plate and hurriedly passed the bowl to Riki, who began to pile them onto her own platter.

"The new owners of the company have increased their demands, and we have to find some way of hurrying the new harvest." He passed a plate of small, crusty rolls, split and filled with cheese and herbs, to Neil.

Feeling more and more uncomfortable, Neil took one and set it beside the untouched shrimp, and handed them on to Riki. Her cheeks bulged with food, like a hamster. She stuffed one in her mouth, balanced three more on her plate, and went back to eating.

"As much as I hate to say it," one of the brothers said in a lowered voice, "it's all Atol's fault. Furthermore, this never would have occurred when Mr. Pearson ran the Company." The other men murmured agreement, and they broke into their own language to continue what was obviously a serious discussion about their work.

Neil, whose ears had pricked up when they mentioned the name of Pearson, was handed more and more bowls of delicious-looking food. He continued to take a scrap from each and pass them to Riki, who was eating more food than he had ever seen any one person eat at one meal. Where does she put it all? he wondered, considering her skinny wrists, which looked like twigs poking out of her turquoise tunic.

She became aware of his gaze and blurted out, "You're not eating anything."

Instantly, all eyes fell on Neil, who hurriedly picked up a fork and mumbled shamefacedly, "Wasn't very hungry."

Chichilia dropped her spoon into her plate and threw up her hands. "Weko, you have made our guest feel unwelcome!" she wailed. "Of course he cannot eat! I try to make him feel at home, and I deal with Riki all week while you work on Mixiamani, and now Mr. Neil cannot eat in our own home! And now I myself am being rude!" She burst suddenly into tears, pushed back her chair and ran from the room. The door slammed behind her.

Riki giggled, but she caught a glance from her father's eye and quickly subsided. Neil shrank back in his chair, wishing he were invisible, and said gruffly, "I didn't mean – look, I'll leave right away."

"Perhaps that would be best," the father said, considering seriously. The brothers also appeared to reflect and nodded in unison.

"I'm done," Riki announced. She was apparently unaware of the dramatic tension in the room. "I'm going to find my parrot and play with him." She climbed over the side her own chair and jumped down.

"Fold your napkin," her father growled. She put her tongue out at him and went to the door, and Wekogono dropped his head into one hand.

"Wait!" Neil said desperately. She turned and he held up his own napkin. "Bet you can't do this." Riki regarded him with a screwed-up mouth, an impatient glint in her eyes, and one hand on the doorknob.

I'm like the prime exhibit in a zoo, Neil thought. He quickly folded the napkin, turned and folded again, and pulled on two corners. The stiff material suddenly emerged in the shape of a rabbit.

"Ipa!" Riki said, and Wekogono raised his head to stare at her. She came back to the table and demanded, "How did you do that?"

"Sit down and I'll show you," Neil said. "But," he added, "you must apologize at once to your father for being rude."

Wekogono's eyes opened wide, but in an off-handed manner Riki said, "Oh, sorry, Weko." Her eyes were glued on the napkin.

Neil reached for another napkin and repeated the process, and after a minute Riki tried it. A rather crumpled-looking bunny was the result.

"Aah," the brothers said together, and Riki looked up, delighted with herself.

"I did it, Jirili! Kakujife! Did you see?"

"Now ask to be excused," Neil said determinedly.

"To be excused," Riki repeated automatically. "Hey, can you do any others?"

"Maybe," Neil replied.

"Can he stay?" She turned to her father, threw her arms around his neck, and hugged him.

He put one arm around her waist and regarded Neil again. "You seem to have bewitched my daughter, Mr. Neil."

"Well, I'm terribly sorry –" Neil began to rise from the table.

"No, no!" Wekogono gestured for him to sit. "I have never seen her act in such a polite manner! I am afraid she is a little over-indulged, and it is a great strain on my wife. Will you stay with us and help her with Riki during the week when my sons and I must go to Mixiamani?"

"Help you with Riki?" Neil couldn't help repeating it. He was completely taken aback.

"You said that you wished to work to pay your debt to us," Weko reminded him.

"Well, of course, but –" Neil remembered Mana.

"Aha! Excellently done!" Wekogono smiled as broadly as Odjo himself. "Now, eat, Mr. Neil, or my wife will have my head! Riki, you may go and play with your parrot." He applied one loud kiss to the side of her head. "And Jirili, you'd better go and fetch your mother, and tell her that all is well, or she'll cry herself into hysterics."

Neil felt he had just signed up for a most difficult task as he picked up his fork and said, "There is one thing I must do though –"

"Of course, of course." Weko waved one hand in the air. "Later you will tell me all about that. Now, Kakujife, certainly you will want to hear what Atol's decision was in the matter of the new harvest next month..."

Behind him, Riki rolled her eyes and made good her escape. Envying her heartily, Neil picked up his fork and began to eat as quickly as he decently could, so he could run away from them as well.

## CHAPTER 4: A Tour around the Island

WHEN NEIL WENT to his room that night, the bed linens had already been changed and a fresh nightshirt was laid out across his pillow. A jug of cool water sat on a low table at the foot of the bed, along with the required bowl of fruit and a small tray of biscuits, just in case he should wake up in the night and be overcome with hunger. As he drifted off, he smiled and thought of what Riki had said to him earlier. Grass huts, indeed! This native family lived in a manner that would make Mrs. Marchpane herself jealous.

Many hours later, he woke up and immediately bounded out of bed. Opening one of the huge wooden doors that blocked the fierce sunlight during the day, he saw that it was still early; pink and purple streaked the sky. Great! He'd finally be able to get going and start to look for Mana, or at least try to ask about the political situation on the island. Last night, Jirili or Kakujife (Neil still couldn't tell them apart) had mentioned Atol, a name that sounded familiar. He'd try to find out who that was and go to see him.

He washed and dragged on some clean clothes that were left beside the bath. He opened the door and his heart sank as Riki, who was stretched out in the hallway, bounced up and grinned at him. "I have been waiting here for h-o-u-r-s. Finally! You snore, too," she added for good measure.

"I thought it was early," Neil said, annoyed.

"It is." Riki dragged him down the stairs. "Weko and my brothers are up already, though. They wake up before dawn every day when they go to Mixiamani to work. Hey, let's go and fish!"

"I'm sorry, I can't. I have something very important I have to do," Neil began, and Riki's face creased, preparing to whine.

"I want to fish!" Her voice rose.

"Shhh!" Neil said. "You'll wake everyone in the house. Listen –" he thought quickly.

"What?" She stuck her fists on her nonexistent hips and glowered at him.

"Perhaps you could show me some of Lampala today. Maybe you could be, you know, sort of a guide."

She considered this for a moment, and her face lit up. "Ipa! I know! We can go to the market to see who can steal the most fruit, and the loser has to buy lunch."

Neil shook his head. "Oh no. Absolutely not. First, I haven't any money, and second, I'm not a thief. Let's just walk around the island and you can point out, oh, you know, places of interest, and scenic views, and things like that."

She pouted. "Dull."

"Come on," he cajoled. He could keep his eyes skinned as they roamed about, although now, he'd have to watch Riki closely as well. Al least he could get an idea of what the island was like and, possibly, make an effort to find where Mana was being held. "Let's see how far we can go around the island by following the beaches. And I'll tell you what, let's bring some string, and we'll try to catch some crabs later."

Like a puppy that has picked up a new scent to follow, Riki forgot all about the market. She dashed towards the kitchen. "I'll get supplies," she shouted. She had completely forgotten to be quiet.

Instantly, the door to the dining room opened, and one of the brothers' heads popped out. When he saw Neil, he bowed gravely. He was joined by the other brother and Weko, who held a large napkin. He dabbed his mouth delicately. "Good morning, Mr. Neil. I trust you slept well. Come in and have coffee with us. We are in the middle of a discussion our plans for the upcoming week, when my sons and I return to Mixiamani."

"I, er, actually I planned to take a walk around the island with Riki today." Neil added, "If that's all right with you, sir?"

"A walk?" One of Weko's eyebrows shot up, and he reached out a mighty arm and drew Neil into the dining room. "With Riki?"

"If it's all right with you, sir, of course." Neil wondered what the Lampalan customs were concerning daughters. Maybe he had committed a grave breach of etiquette with his offer to take Riki out for the day.

"Mr. Neil. Good morning." Neil spun around. Chichilia stepped into the room. She wore a red gown that was embroidered with gold snakes and dragons. As she moved, her dress rustled in an expensive way. "I trust you will forgive my behavior last night; it has been a somewhat tiring week."

"My dear." Weko approached Chichilia and kissed her hand. "Mr. Neil proposes to view the island today, with Riki as his guide."

"Today?" she asked, and an unmistakable gleam of relief appeared in her eye. "All day?"

"All day." Weko smiled at her.

"Mr. Neil, thank you! I do indeed appreciate it!" She took one of his hands in both of her own and shook it up and down for several moments. "That is, my reaction must appear rather strange. The truth is that Riki is a little much for me at times."

"It is our own fault." Weko sat down and picked up a thimble-sized coffee cup. He drank and set it down carefully on a fragile saucer. "Since my sons and I must travel to other islands to supervise the bolemor groves, Riki is left behind with her mother. I'm afraid our daughter takes advantage of my wife and the situation disgracefully." The two brothers, as usual, nodded agreement at their father's words.

"This means that I can do some much-needed work on my temple embroidery, and go over the accounts, and visit friends after lunch – oh thank you so much, Mr. Neil!" Chichilia sat at the table and poured coffee into another tiny cup. She handed it to Neil and poured one for herself.

Neil felt rather as if he was just about to walk into a lion's den. He contemplated the day ahead with dread. Still, if the worst he had to face was a little girl in order to find out something about the island, and thus find Mana, he wasn't doing too badly. After all, Simon and Miriam could be up against something much worse at that very minute.

"Mr. Wekogono." He sat in the chair that Chichilia indicated, "Could you explain something to me? Who is Atol?"

Weko frowned. "He is the ruler of our islands," he replied. "At least, he took over when the Company changed hands recently."

"When Mr. Pearson died?" Neil took a sip of coffee. It was sweet and strong enough to choke an elephant, but it would give him some energy to keep up with Riki.

"How did you know about the Company?" one of the brothers asked.

"Oh, Miriam mentioned –" Neil stopped.

"Miriam? Miriam Pearson?" Weko put down his cup and leaned forward.

"Ah, yes." Neil felt acutely uncomfortable. Both brothers had stopped eating their breakfast (it looked like sweet rolls with mango jam) and looked at him intently.

"You knew Miss Miriam?" Weko asked.

"Well, yes. Sort of."

"My goodness," Chichilia breathed. "To think that someone who talked to Mr. Pearson's daughter is actually at our table!"

A picture of Miriam, hat off and stockings rolled down to her ankles as she poked among the rock pools at the sea, came to his mind, and Neil spluttered into his coffee. "She's just a normal girl," he couldn't help saying.

"Her father created the Company, and it allows us to own everything that we have here." Weko waved one hand at the ornately decorated room – the carvings, the figurines, the paintings, and the fine muslin curtains at the windows. "He showed Weko and the rest of us here on Lampala how to plant and cultivate the bolemor trees and sell them to the mainland. He even developed the special passage that allowed us to ship our wood without any of the usual risks incurred. Any other man would have taken the profits and left us in ignorance of the huge profits, but Mr. Pearson insisted that we share in his good fortune, when it was found that the Bolemors provided many products beside the actual wood."

"True," one of the brothers agreed. "In fact, our entire house is constructed from bolemor wood, and thus has outlasted many storms and high winds. It even withstood the Tempest of '93; do you remember, Jirili?"

"Indeed I do, Jife," the other brother agreed.

"But now, changes are coming," Jife said in a dour voice.

Neil wanted to ask if the changes involved the Marchpanes, but before he could ask, the door opened and Riki stood there, draped with nets, several large baskets, a long coil of rope, and two fishing rods. "I'm ready," she announced.

After breakfast, they set off across the lawn and turned in the opposite direction from which Neil had originally arrived. Before they left he had tried to extend the extremely interesting breakfast conversation, but Riki had sent up such a fuss that he had stopped. The familiar worried look had come into Chichilia's eyes, so Neil had thought it best to leave.

Reluctantly, he had put on a pair of stout boots offered to him by Jirili, and he and Riki set off. Neil had, at least, won the argument over the amount of gear that they should carry. He couldn't imagine tramping all over Lampala with all of the fishing equipment that Riki had originally planned to bring.

"Will we catch many crabs, do you think?" she chattered as she headed for a break in the bamboo hedge that bordered the property. It led to a little path that headed towards the seashore, from the sound of the waves. "I bet we will. Odjo said he'll make us crab chowder if we get enough. I'm going to take you all the way around Lampala. Ipa! Maybe we can even climb Tiriumbutora!" She hummed and picked her way down to the sands.

"What does 'ipa' mean?" Neil balanced the load of fishing gear that she had dumped on him.

"Hm. Well, it's like 'look here' or 'see that'," she explained, not very well.

"Like 'Hey'," Neil offered.

"Yes! Yes, that is right! You're not quite as stupid as you look."

"And what is that in your language?" Neil pointed to the sea.

"Batakelowe."

"And the rocks?"

"Biruti."

"And the sand?"

"Enago."

"And what was tirium – what you said we could climb?"

"Tiriumbutora," Riki said, tiring of the word game. "It's the name of a mountain. I will take off my shoes and go in the water now."

The sea looked very inviting. The water was light turquoise blue and completely clear, and it washed up onto white talcum-powder sand. After a moment, Neil tugged off Jirili's boots and joined her in the waves. The sea was also extremely warm; in fact, it was just like wading through clear, salty, crystal soup.

They chased each other and the waves for a long while, enjoying the water on their ankles and knees. Neil felt his pants get wet and rolled them up farther. Riki was already completely drenched by the surf.

The sand curved around a series of wickedly sharp rocks, and Riki splashed out of the waves. She climbed the stones quickly and dropped off the other side. Neil followed more slowly and saw little rock-pools filled with creatures that waved bright tendrils and tentacles in the water, sea life that appeared to have come from another world. I've seen those before, somewhere, he thought.

"Come on, slow boy." Riki appeared beneath him and squinted. "Jump down."

Neil dropped off the large rock and thudded onto the sand. "Oof," he said. "Hey, Riki, how big is the island?"

"Too big to walk around in one day!" She let out a scream of mad laughter. "We'll probably get lost in the mountains and have to sleep outside!" She grew thoughtful, and Neil knew with dread that she pondered this new possibility.

"Oh, no you don't," he said. "I owe too much to your parents to have you stay out all night and worry them. Forget it."

"You can't make me," she responded and gave him a hard shove. "What are you going to do about it?"

His scalp prickled with anger, and he withdrew himself coldly. "I won't talk to you," he said, incensed.

Instantly she was contrite. "I'm very sorry, my dear, dear, dear Neil. Please talk to me – you're the only one who does!" She threw down her net and tried to hug him.

Neil stepped out of her way and shook his head. "I'll only have a conversation with you if you act like a human being."

"Oh, I will." She clasped her hands under her chin and dropped to her knees. Before he could stop himself, one corner of his mouth twitched up. Seeing this, she giggled. "See? Now we're friends again. Come on. I want to get to the large rocks on the next beach so we can sit and eat there."

This was a new weapon in the attack on Riki's frightful manners. Neil could hardly believe it, but the threat of silent treatment had actually made her stop complaining.

As they walked down the beach, swinging their nets, he imagined himself teaching her to be courteous and to listen when she was spoken to. She would stop talking back to her parents, and she would begin to eat without taking all the food in sight and stuffing it into her mouth. Her parents would heap praise upon him! They would offer to help him in his quest! Mana was as good as rescued!

At that moment, Riki deliberately stuck the handle of her net between his legs and tripped him, and he fell heavily into the sand. His grandiose plans popped out of his head, and he got up and trudged after her. She ran down a long stretch of beach, dashing from side to side in order to disturb any sea birds picking at shellfish on the sand and eventually disappeared round a corner. Neil increased his pace and followed.

He found her on top of an even larger outcropping of stones. As he ran up, a huge sheet of spray blasted into the air from the waves below, and she lifted up her arms and shouted with delight.

Neil climbed up carefully beside her and saw that the rocks extended into the ocean like an outstretched hand with two fingers missing. The waves, which were much stronger here, rushed up and hit the "thumb" which sent the spray up to coat the rocks. It was dry, however, where she was sitting, and Neil squatted beside her.

"See? Isn't this nice? I'm starving." Riki beamed at him.

Neil realized he was hungry as well. He watched with great interest as she untied a large bundle. Someone, undoubtedly Odjo, had packed some of the sweet rolls, along with biscuits and small loaves of bread that were split and filled with different spreads. Some were orange in color with flecks of green herbs and pieces of tomato.

Riki grabbed one and took a huge bite. Neil ate one as well. The filling was crab, or maybe shrimp, with egg. Riki produced two stone bottles filled with a cold, lemony drink and poured some out. "Ahhh," Neil said, and he reached for another sandwich.

"Mm-hmmmmmm," Riki agreed. "Neil, what do you think? We could hang our lines over there while we eat." She stuffed the roll in her mouth, popped up and grabbed a length of twine. "How do I do this now?" she asked around the huge mouthful of roll.

"I'm having my lunch first." Neil chewed calmly and gazing out to see. Riki began to argue, before she appeared to remember the threat of silence. She sat back down and kept one eye on Neil.

"Ready yet?" she asked.

"No," he said.

"Now?"

"No."

"Now?"

"Riki," he said, "I will tell you when I'm ready. Stop asking me!"

"But I just can't wait to catch a darling little crab!" She bounced up and down with anxiety.

Neil felt his mouth twitching up again, and she burst into her loud laugh. "I know I'm a pest," she said. "Don't you want to see what color it will be, though? And whether it will eat from my hand?"

"More likely that it will pinch your fingers," he said, but he relented. "All right, if you promise to show me around after we catch some crabs, we'll let out some lines now. I suppose it's a good idea actually, since we can finish lunch while we wait for them to bite."

He expertly un-reeled a length of twine and tied a piece of cold shrimp onto it. Riki watched him closely and did the same, and they dunked their ropes into the pool.

"Wouldn't it be perfect to live like this, swimming and catching crabs and fish all day? I could build a fire and cook them for dinner?" Riki picked up a sweet roll.

"Not really." Neil sat beside her. He picked up another sandwich and bit into it. "Believe me. That's what my family does for a living, and it's not much fun."

She stopped chewing for a moment. "Your family is poor?"

"What about it?" Neil glared at her.

"Nothing," Riki replied. "Ipa! Touchy! I just wanted to know."

"Oh. Very well. Yes, they're poor." Neil swallowed some more of the delicious lemon drink, and asked, "Where did you learn to speak English so well?"

"We all learn English," Riki said around a large wad of sweet roll. The crumbs blew out of her mouth as she spoke. "So you're poor, huh?"

"Yes, I told you that already. Stop going on about it, would you?"

She swallowed. "Well, don't worry. When you and I get married, you'll be rich."

Neil shot to his feet and dropped his sandwich onto the beach below, where it was picked up by a triumphant gull. "When we what?" he repeated in a strangled voice.

"When you marry me." Riki smiled at him and swallowed the last of her sweet roll.

He huffed, catching his breath, and finally managed to say, "Oh, no, I'm not marrying you. No-ho. Mhp-hm."

She looked up at him in astonishment. "You mean, you don't want to marry me? Why not?"

"Because," he responded, "you are, without a doubt, the rudest, most ill-mannered girl I have ever met in my entire life."

She considered this. Her eyes turned into slits. "Well," she finally retorted, "I've been nice to you today."

"Maybe. However, I'm not going to marry someone whose best claim to decent behavior is that they've 'been nice today'. If I ever get married at all, that is."

"Oh!"

Neil increased the distance between them. "Besides," he added, "you're just a child."

Her eyes blazed with anger at that remark. "Oh, that is just so wrong to say that. I am not! I think I'm at least your age."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore," Neil stated. "Come on, finish your sandwich, and we'll check our lines."

Much to his surprise, she nodded. Still, he kept a wide berth from her after that.

## CHAPTER 5: The Mountains

"AREN'T THEY LOVELY?" Riki gloated over the crabs. The bag was filled with the crustaceans, since they had proved to be very easy to catch. Crabs must like Odjo's sandwiches, Neil thought. A small orange crab waved a claw at Riki, and a bright blue one nipped at Neil's finger.

"They are colorful," he said and closed the bag.

"And they'll make good soup," Riki added.

They were now walking across a large inlet of white sand. Riki pointed across the sea to where the smaller island could now be seen. "Look; there's Mixiamani." Even from this short distance, it still appeared to float above the waves, just as the larger Lampala did when viewed from the mainland. Neil opened his mouth to ask her about this phenomenon, but Riki forestalled him with a hand on his sleeve. She gestured at the grassy area beyond the beach. "And that's where most of the workers live."

A row of well-built houses, smaller than Riki's but just as beautiful, lay in a curved line along the sands. Neil saw a woman carrying a placid-looking baby walk out of one of the homes. As he watched, she took the baby to a thick carpet in her garden. She sat beside the child and took out what appeared to be a canvas and some brushes. Sure enough, as they got closer, she started to paint a portrait of the baby, who revolved its fists at her in a vague manner. Riki yelled something and waved one arm wildly, and the woman smiled and waved back with her brush.

"What's behind those houses?" Neil asked.

"Atol's palace."

"Who is this Atol?"

Riki squinted up at him. "Our king, brainless. Except he's really not a king unless he finds the Glorious Corona before the other king's family does."

"The Glorious Corona? What's that? And what other king?" They were walking on again, heading towards where the row of cozy houses and well-tended gardens butted up against another huge swell of rock.

Riki shrugged. "It's all very confusing. The last king. He was sick for a long time, and the new ruler should have been his daughter." She stumbled over the last word, obviously unused to saying it in Neil's language. "After a long time he died. And Atol became our king instead of the princess. I really don't understand any of it, but I overheard Weko talked and talked about later."

They reached the rocky slope, and without hesitation, Riki headed inland. Neil put down the basket and called after her. "Where do you think you're going?" he asked. "I thought we were going to follow the beach all around the island!"

Riki darted back to him and pointed to a long outcropping of rocks. "We'd have to climb over that," she said. "And it just gets bigger inland, see? It becomes the mountains. The Tiriumbutora."

"What do you mean?" Neil asked.

Riki knelt down and began drawing in the sand. "Well, the island is like a circle, except it's really shaped more like a peanut, and it's bisected by this curving line here." She drew a curve that cut through her rudimentary drawing of the island, chopping off one portion of it.

"Bisected," Neil said. "Nice word."

Riki squinted up at him. "Thanks! Will you consider marrying me now?"

"No fear," Neil said without hesitation. "But, I really want to go and see those mountains, the – what did you call them? How can we get there?"

Riki rocked back on her heels and considered her map. "The Tiriumbutora. We could cut right through the palace grounds to the foothills," she said. "There's a well-marked path from there that's pretty easy to climb."

"Hmm." Neil squatted beside her. "We are not going to be able to climb up there today, at any rate."

"But I want to go up Tiriumbutora now!" Riki said, frowning.

Neil rolled his eyes. "Of course you do. However, I'm not getting stuck on a mountainside in the dark; it will be late afternoon by the time we reach the foot of the mountains. And," he cut off Riki's howl of protest, "I hardly think your parents will want me to keep their daughter out all night."

In fact, he thought, remembering Weko's powerful muscles with a shudder, her father might have my ears removed. He shook his head.

"I will climb the mountain! And there's nothing you can do or say to stop me!" Riki turned on her heel and flounced away.

Neil cupped his hands over his mouth and shouted, "I have our water and our lunch in my pack, you idiot!"

Riki stopped. "Oh."

Neil sighed. "Look," he said, "let's just climb up and scout out the territory a bit. We can return when we have more time and climb the Tiriumbutora. We won't waste the morning crabbing, for one."

Riki pondered this. "All right," she grouched.

Neil hid his surprise at his easy victory. "Very well. Which way should we go?"

"There. We need to follow that path by the grounds of the palace."

"We won't get in trouble for going so close to the king's lands, will we?" Neil asked.

"Oh, no," Riki promised.

They left the beach and made their way towards their goal, the large palace. It was surrounded by a thick, dark fence. Through the gaps in the massive gates, the palace itself looked like a larger, more ornate version of Riki's house. There was the long veranda and the second story balcony on top of the porch. That was topped by a third floor, and the roof was scrolled and inlaid with what looked like mother of pearl. Fantastic creatures guarded each corner of the roof – a dragon, a sea serpent and a merman blowing into a golden shell.

Riki's house lacked the guards, though. The entire building, Neil saw as they crept closer, was filled with people in uniform, clutching large swords, scimitars and even bayonets.

The sea now lay behind them. Titiumbora, the large mountain, was on their left. The palace was situated at the bottom of the mountain's foothills, and between it and hills was a large, sparkling lagoon. The view of the mountains over the lake, for anyone lucky enough to live in the palace, would have been breathtaking.

The path slanted uphill as it curved towards the mountain. Riki began to climb up the slope, ascending as neatly as a goat. Neil puffed after her and after a minute they gained the top of the first incline. They were high enough to see the sands behind them. Neil was also able to see more of the lagoon, which was bordered by white sand.

"Riki! What's that?" He jerked his thumb at the tallest of the Tiriumbutora.

"What's what?" Riki spoke in her normal voice, and Neil shushed her, thinking of the guards.

"Look! What's that great dark hole, at the top of the mountain? It looks like a huge cave, or a passage."

"Never noticed it before." Riki shrugged. "We're not allowed to go up there."

As they watched, a man emerged from the tunnel, looking as tiny as an ant from where they were. He trudged across the lower floor between the hills where Riki and Neil were perched and the mountains, and headed towards the lagoon, or the palace. They couldn't tell which.

Riki nudged Neil. "What do you think he's doing?" she breathed into his ear.

"Hard to tell," Neil said, squinting into the fierce sun. "Looks like he's carrying something."

"Do you think we could get up there and see where that tunnel leads?"

"I don't see why not!" Neil spoke with enthusiasm, and Riki looked at him, astonished.

"You don't?" she asked. "No lectures, no 'Riki, you know we really mustn't', no running off to tell Weko?"

"Am I really that boring?"

"Well, no, but it's what my brothers would do."

Neil reflected on the two identical versions of Weko – their beards, their solemnity and the way they always nodded their heads and agreed with Weko and with each other. "I can just picture them saying that," he said finally.

Riki knocked his arm violently with her fist. "Look! That man we saw in the tunnel, or whatever it is! I think he is about to head towards the palace!" She got up and prepared to jump down the other side of the slope. hey stopped, frozen. There was a shout from behind them.

"Ipa!" someone yelled. "Jumanja! Katiye! Ewokya pantuma lemla? Ipa!"

Riki gripped Neil again, and they turned around. A man ran up the hill behind them, and he looked extremely angry. He also looked very large, Neil thought, watching the way he easily negotiated the huge rocks in his way.

"Aye uchewe kolokolo!" Riki shouted, cupping her hands around her mouth. "I'm telling him we're sorry," she added in a low tone to Neil.

The man reached them and thrust one end of his staff into the ground. Neil could now see that a large, gleaming knife was set in one end of it. The guard's hair was oiled and braided closely to his head, and he wore a long white tunic with a deep purple border. The garment had no sleeves, and the muscles of his arms looked as big as barrels.

Gesturing with one arm at the valley below them and at Neil and Riki, he broke into a long tirade. Riki, not to be outdone, instantly responded with spirit.

The resulting din was horrific. As unobtrusively as possible, Neil edged away from that large knife and tried to look as mild and as law-abiding as possible.

The guard was furious, but he finally seemed to be appeased by Riki's answers. He gestured with his stick towards the lagoon below them and turned away towards the palace, motioning for them to follow.

"What's going on?" Neil hissed in Riki's ear as they moved away from the mountains down the slope towards the lagoon.

"He says that the Tiriumbutora are a forbidden area now," Riki whispered back. "Luckily we didn't start to climb up, or he would have had us arrested and thrown in prison."

"What!" Neil said. The guard shot him a stern look and Neil stopped talking.

The guard set a fast pace, and Neil had to scramble to keep up with him. Finally, they reached the bottom of the slope, and the guard, ignoring the ornate palace just visible through the thick trees, pointed to a path that led around the lagoon. He barked out something else that sounded like an order.

"He says to stay away from the mountains," Riki said, "and to go home fast."

The man watched them as they followed the path into the trees, his hands on his hips. Riki stopped after a few minutes and looked back.

"There, he's gone, I think. Come on, we can catch another glimpse of the palace around this next bend, I think. Yes, there it is. See?"

Neil peered between some of the hanging vines, thick with flowers and fruit, at the long wooden wall.

From where they stood, he could barely see a large flight of steps that curved down from what looked like another long veranda. Dark shapes moved on the white steps, but whether they were guards, soldiers or the king himself with his family, Neil couldn't tell.

"Can you see anything?" Riki strained her neck and screwed up her eyes.

"Not really." Neil stepped back onto the little path. It was sandy, and it wound towards the beach where he had landed the day before, if his bearings were correct. "Come on; I want to move on before that guard finds us again."

"Ha! Him!" Riki guffawed and planted her feet firmly in the sand.

Sweat ran down Neil's face into the loose collar of his tunic. He shoved his glasses on his nose with one hand and said, "Riki, I do not want to get caught out here. We're probably breaking about fifty of your country's laws."

She smiled. "Afraaaaaid?" She drew out the word in a nasty manner.

Neil looked at her with dislike and hoisted the basket of food back onto his shoulder. "Suit yourself!" he said with finality. "I will move on, and I will sit down and have a snack and a drink when I get off this bloody path." Without waiting for her response, he marched off.

The path twisted, and he was cut off from the sound of the water lapping on the lagoon shore. Silence descended. He expected to hear her footsteps a minute later, but besides the cries and hoots from the birds in the trees overhead, the only sound was that of his shoes on the path.

Damn and blast, he swore to himself. If she got lost now, or ran back to that guard, or got arrested, he would be held responsible. Her family would probably throw him in jail. His entire journey would have been of no use at all. Mana would probably never be found or rescued, and Miriam and Simon might have their heads chopped off. His glasses slid down his nose again, and he gave them an angry shove.

He had almost made up his mind to forget his pride and go back and find her, when there was a loud whoop and Riki jumped down from a bush in front of him. "Waaah! Bet you didn't expect to see me here! I frightened the pants off you! Didn't I? Huh?"

"Fine, fine, you scared me senseless." Wearily, Neil set down the bag of food and sank onto the ground. Relief left him exhausted, and at that moment he didn't care who saw him.

"I want a snack too." Riki pushed him to one side and digging in the remains from lunch. "Ooh, look, mango paste! And lobster salad! Here, I'll serve."

She handed him a cup of lemon drink and gave him a quick grin as she did so. Neil couldn't help it; he grinned back.

He was surprised to find that he was ravenous. Once they had finished every scrap of food that was left, Neil packed up the basket, since Riki pointed out that she had dished out the meal. He crammed in the last cup and getting to his feet. "I was wondering about something. Why doesn't the proper princess, the daughter of the former king, come and claim the throne of Lampala?"

Riki paused. "Don't know. I think it had something to do with Mr. Pearson and the Company."

"You mean Miriam's father put another man on the throne?" Neil was shocked. From the little he had heard about the man, it seemed totally out of character.

"No. Of course not. Atol took the throne after Mr. Pearson died. Bwah! You're as bad as –"

"As bad as you? Tired of questions? I know exactly how you feel." Neil grinned at her.

She grinned back. One thing that you could say about Riki, Neil reflected; she had an easy temperament and forgot her anger quickly.

"I suppose you are as bad as me!" She snorted with laughter. "Now I know why Chichilia tells me to stop bothering her all the time."

Neil grew serious. "Listen, Riki, I have to know something. It's important."

"What? Why?" She bounded down the path beside him, swinging her arms. They looked like two dark pieces of rope.

Neil adjusted the pack on his back. "It has to do with Miriam, Mr. Pearson's daughter, and Simon, the son of the man who runs the company now. And one other person."

"Miriam! Who is this Miriam? Mr. Pearson's daughter, you mean?" Riki demanded. "Do you like her better than me? Do you?"

"Oh, forget it," Neil groaned. "I must be out of my mind to try and tell you anything serious. And by the by, do you know where you're headed?" He watched her start off confidently through the trees.

"Not at all," Riki said and cackled with wild laughter.

## CHAPTER 6: The Sad Case of the Cook's Daughter

WHEN RIKI AND Neil returned to the house, her parents were both on the front veranda. Much to Neil's surprise, he saw that the tall, serious Weko actually had one arm around Chichilia, and she giggled as she looked up into her husband's face.

When they saw the children approach, Weko quickly moved away and schooled his features into his usual serious expression. He pretended to study one fingernail closely. Chichilia, however, got up and came forward. With a smile, she held her arms out to Riki and Neil.

"Did you have a nice day?" she sang and reached for the empty food basket.

Riki subjected to her mother's hug and plopped onto her bottom in the grass, sighing dramatically. "I'm so tired," she complained.

"Sorry that we were away so long." Neil began to feel guilty. "I'm afraid I managed to take a longer route than I should have done."

"No, no problem at all! We don't mind! Not at all!" Chichilia said hurriedly. "I was glad to have – that is, I'm glad that you and Riki had such a pleasant day."

"How do you know it was pleasant?" Riki tipped her head back and squinted at Chichilia.

"I mean, it must have been pleasant, as you look so nice and tired; that is, I mean you look relaxed, my darling." Riki continued to stare up at her mother after that hurried speech, but her face crumpled and she yawned hugely.

"Time for a wash, and an hour of sleep before dinner." Weko put one massive hand on the back of Riki's head and pushed her towards the steps to the house, ignoring her protests that she wasn't tired, didn't need a wash, and she couldn't possibly sleep. The argument was purely for its own sake, however, and the sound of another huge yawn stifled behind one hand floated back to Neil as she stumbled up to her room.

"I'm sure you would like to rest as well." Chichilia brushed at one huge dust stain on Neil's shirt.

He realized that she meant he was filthy and sorely needed a scrub. "I'll go up at once," he answered, although he was dying to ask about the tunnel they had seen, the guards at the palace, and what lay beyond the tall, unreachable mountains.

"One moment." Weko shot out a huge dark hand and gripped Neil's shoulder.

"Yes, sir?" Neil asked.

"I wish to thank you, Mr. Neil, for giving us the first peaceful day we have had together since Riki was born," Weko said.

"Oh," Neil said, embarrassed. "L'right. Ah, she's not all that bad."

"You must think that we are a very strange family." Chichilia sounded sad. "But what my husband says is no more than the truth. When Riki was an infant, she didn't stop crying for days. I was never so exhausted in my life. We thought she would get better once she got older, but –"

"But it got worse." Weko kept his hand on Neil's shoulder. "It was as if Riki had a devil in her, once she learned how to walk. My wife had to keep an eye on her all day. If she took her eyes off for a moment, Riki would always get hurt, or hurt someone else or got into more trouble than you can imagine."

"Oh," Neil said again, and he pushed one toe into the sand.

Weko seemed to recall himself, and he gave Neil's arm one last painful squeeze before releasing him. "I do not believe in fate, Mr. Neil. Yet it seems that your arrival here in Lampala has brought us much good luck."

"May I ask you something, in that case, sir?" Neil said, greatly daring. "Could you please tell me what is going on with this fellow, Atol? He is the ruler, yes? But no one seems to like him –" He stopped. Chichilia flapped one hand in front of her face in a distracted, nervous manner, and Weko's eyes bulged nearly out of his head.

"We are very thankful to you, yes," Weko said. "But we cannot discuss the political matters of the island. I am sorry."

"Mr. Neil." Chichilia waved at the large house and the beautiful, green garden. "Everything we have here is in jeopardy if we discuss such a thing. We could lose our home, or even our – oh, please do not mention it again."

"I thought I made that clear to you before," Weko's huge black brows twitched.

"Ah, um, you did," Neil said, "and I wouldn't have brought it up again. Honestly I wouldn't. But, that is – I have a friend, who is lost, and I must find her so she can help me rescue two other friends. Who are also lost." He realized that the explanation sounded rather thin even to him.

Weko's brows knitted more furiously and he shook his head. "If your friend has disappeared, and if Atol is involved, there is nothing you can do about it."

Neil accepted that for the moment. "Perhaps you're right. Maybe I should get return to England at once and do what I can there for Simon and Miriam."

"Oh, but you can't leave yet!" Chichilia expostulated. "Really! Weko, we can't let Neil leave now! Not when, you know, when he and Riki have become such good friends!"

Weko's frown deepened again, and he looked at Neil furiously. "A man works hard in this life," he expostulated, "and he has to deal with such little problems. Such domestic matters are none of my affair, my dear!"

Neil watched them both, and he decided to press his advantage. "No," he said mournfully, "I really must do what I can for Simon. If you can tell me where to rent a boat, sir, I'll be off in the morning."

"Weko!" Chichilia put one hand on her husband's arm and looked up at him pleadingly. "Please, my dear."

He looked down at her, and sighed. "Very well, my love," he said, touching her hair briefly. "I'll see what I can do. Tell me the name of your friend, the one who has disappeared here, Mr. Neil."

Neil felt a bolt of excitement shoot through him. At last, at last he was starting to get somewhere! "Her name is Manapalata," he replied.

Weko's eyes bulged and he gasped, seizing Neil's arm again painfully with both hands. "Do – not – mention – that – name – ever – again!" he hissed.

Neil, staring at him with horror, could only gasp, "What, why, what is the matter?!"

"Weko!" Chichilia said. "Be quiet, please! Look, someone is at the garden gate!"

The huge man released Neil and raised one massive finger. He shook it in Neil's face. "We will discuss this no further," he decreed. "And you will stay with us until we say you may leave. We rescued you, and you owe us that much. And that is all I have to say." Releasing Neil suddenly, he strode to the gate. Neil was about to argue, when a terrible odor assailed his nostrils.

Grabbing his nose, he gasped, "What is that smell?" If he had been as uninhibited as Riki, he would have added a loud, 'Pee-yooo!' Weko was already shouting and waving his arms at the person, whoever it was.

The figure was that of a woman with long, matted hair and torn clothes, and the stink emanated from her. She was, Neil suddenly realized, the first person on the island to actually appear poor. At first, it was impossible to tell her age but as she grew near, she lifted her hair off her face and raised her arms to the sky. She smiled with closed eyes, as though she was lost in a wonderful place that no one else could see.

She was actually very young. Probably at one time she had been beautiful. Now her features were blotted and streaked with dirt, and they were obscured by the idiotic expression on her face.

Weko caught up with her and grabbed one of her arms. Neil felt someone push him to one side.

It was Odjo, the large cook. For once he wasn't smiling; in fact, as Neil quickly stepped back, he realized that tears were pouring down the man's face. "Tache!" he sobbed, and he tried to catch her, to hold her in his arms. "Tache!"

"Odjo," Weko said in a low, insistent voice. "Tache, la katiye ife mistere. Teche wumikum setiwe."

"Ife katiye!" Odjo smeared his tears with one massive hand. "Ife Tache!"

"Neil," a low voice said in his ear. Riki had reappeared.

"What's going on?" Neil was horrified.

"Shhh –." Riki propelled him inside the door and shamelessly applied her eye to the keyhole. Just as shamelessly, Neil squatted beside her and tried to spy through the window.

"What is going on?" he said, nudging her fiercely. "And I thought you were asleep."

Ignoring the shove, she whispered back, "Heard the row. Had to come down and see for myself. Tache is Odjo's daughter. Something happened to her – a while ago. She went somewhere for a job, and she came back – like that. Dirty, and stinking, and empty all the time. Like you saw. She's been that way ever since."

"Riki, what is your father telling Odjo?"

"He's saying that she can't stay here. He's afraid of what Atol might do if he finds out that she's here."

Neil frowned. The more he heard about this Atol, the less he liked the sound of him. "Why would the king of Lampala give a damn about it? And why wouldn't he want anyone to help the poor thing?"

Weko and Odjo were still deep in argument. The girl, Tache, ignored them. As Neil and Riki watched, she lifted her arms to the sky and begun to twirl, tilting her head back and humming tunelessly.

"Weko!" Chichilia must have decided that enough was enough. She wedged herself between her husband and the cook. "Weko, my dear – we had better -" She began to speak in the island language.

"What's your mother telling Weko?" Neil shifted so he could get a better look.

"Owww, you're pushing," Riki complained. "She's offering to take Tache into the house, again."

"Again? This has happened before?"

"I told you, she's been like this since she came back from the mainland. She comes here, and Chichilia gives her a room and helps her, and father is angry, and Tache gets better, and she leaves again. And she returns, only each time its worse."

"What do you mean by worse?"

"Look at her, Neil!" Riki said, slapping one hand at the screen. The girl was now flinging her wild hair from side to side, and her humming had escalated to moans.

Neil turned away. He had no stomach for watching such a pitiful sight.

"Come on." Riki pulled him back into the passage. "Let's go to the back garden and let them fight it out. We can't hear anything there."

Neil allowed himself to be towed through the long passage. "But," he added, "What makes her do that?"

"Don't know," Riki replied. "But whatever it is, I hate it."

## CHAPTER 7: The Luxurious Prison

NEIL LIFTED A spoonful of crab soup to his mouth and let the utensil splash back into his bowl. It wasn't that the food was any less delicious than usual; in fact, having Tache back in the house seemed to have improved Odjo's skills. The crabs had been caught by Neil and Riki, who had returned to the sea the following day. They still hadn't ventured anywhere near the forbidden side of Lampala.

He sighed. The huge house, with all its luxuries, had become a kind of a prison, since Weko had decided that Neil should continue to stay with them... And whenever he approached the subjects of leaving. Or helping his friends, or the politics of the island, Weko firmly ended the conversation with a determined, "We shall not talk about that now."

Riki's father had been all smiles, though, when he saw his daughter actually feeding her parrot without being nagged or scolded, picking up the books and toys in her room and eating with good manners. Oh yes, Mr. Big Man Weko, Neil thought, you like my influence over your daughter, don't you? But you don't like it when need help for my quest. No, you do not enjoy that one bit.

Quest! Neil gave a mental snort. What was he, a knight? Hardly. Would a knight like Lochinvar or Gawain or one of those chaps put up with being a nursemaid to a skinny, loud, demanding brat such as Riki? The answer was an emphatic No. And would they suffer nightmares like his recent dreams, about Simon and Miriam and Mana, all caught in dreadful traps with no escape? Absolutely not.

He had to do something. During the last few days, Neil had made up his mind several times just to walk away from the house and leave, convinced that he had fully paid back his debt to Chichilia and Weko by taming their daughter a bit.

However, any attempt to go to the beach or the bamboo glades alone had been subtly thwarted by a nervous Chichilia. She ran after him with sandwiches, or a hat, or something. Or Riki invariably popped up in his path and demanded that he take her fishing or hunting. Obviously, they were all afraid that he would try to escape.

"What's the matter with you?" Riki interrupted his thoughts.

"Yes," Chichilia asked more gently. "You seem out of sorts today, Mr. Neil." Weko and the brothers were not at the table, as it was the middle of the week and they had returned to Mixiamani.

He straightened in his chair and opened his mouth, making up his mind to pour out his grievances, when a thought struck him. Perhaps, if he pretended that he was growing accustomed to living with them, that he in fact had never been happier, they would relax their guard and he could find a way to get back to his friends, or to find Mana. He picked up his spoon. "Oh, I was wondering about Tache. How is she coming along in her recovery?"

"Why do you ask about her?" Riki's black eyes narrowed.

Neil ate another mouthful before he replied. "I was simply concerned, that's all."

"Most thoughtful," Chichilia said, wiping one corner of her mouth delicately. "In truth, Mr. Neil, her recovery is very slow. It seems that each time she regresses, these spells last longer and longer."

"What's the matter with her anyway?" Riki asked. "You never tell me anything about her."

"It's not a matter for young girls." Chichilia picked up a coffee cup and took a tiny sip of the dark brew. Riki sighed deeply and threw down her fork. Neil applauded her inwardly. The grownups that he had met -teachers, parents, and such - were evasive when it came to certain subjects. However, no one he had met in his previous life would be able to come close to Riki's parents for avoiding a question.

Neil forced a smile onto his face and asked, "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"That we can do to help, don't you mean, Neil?" Riki said, stretching her eyes at him and moving her head back and forth on her shoulders. She looked a bit like a snake getting ready to strike.

"Right, Riki, that we can do," Neil repeated.

"My dear Riki! How thoughtful! And how nice of you as well, Mr. Neil!" Chichilia smiled and shook her head. "Still, no, it's better if you stay away from Tache. You might overexcite her and prolong her recovery."

"Overexcite her!" Riki hooted, puffing up with anger. "I bet I wouldn't! I could wind bandages, and wipe her forehead, and spoon gruel for her..." Her voice faded away and she stared into space. Obviously she was imagining herself as a devoted nurse.

"You'd get bored with that in five minutes," Neil said.

Riki looked at him and cackled loudly. "You know, you're right."

Chichilia's smiled widened. "You really are a miracle worker, Mr. Neil. And you are happy here?"

"Oh, yes, very happy," Neil said, nodding. He hoped he didn't seem too eager.

"Mm. Well, what are you both going to do today?"

"Swim! Play! Explore! Fish!" Riki cried, hopping in her seat with each word.

"Feed the parrot," Neil said. "Clean the fishpond. Practice the flute." Riki's face fell, and he couldn't help laughing. "And maybe we'll go fishing," he added grandly.

Chichilia arose and draped one arm around his shoulders. Giving him a kiss on the cheek, she said, "I truly hope you will stay here with us forever."

"Oh, um, ah," Neil blustered, resisting the urge to wipe his face with one arm. No bloody fear of that, he added silently.

"Ha ha!" Riki sang out, pointing at him and jeering as Chichilia kissed him again. She pursed up her lips and made loud smooching sounds.

No, no bloody fear, Neil swore as he got up and made for the stairs. I'm not staying here with that little hoyden. You can bet your last penny on that.

Later, as he and Riki sat on the beach with their fishing rods (they had already fed the parrot and cleaned the fishpond) she jabbed him with one elbow and asked, "What's eating you? Why are you so gloomy, mopey, and depressing lately?"

Neil dragged his eyes from the horizon and focused on her. "No reason," he finally answered.

"Are you angry at me?"

"No." He didn't offer any other explanation, and, for once, she didn't pester him.

The day was hot and overcast, which suited his mood exactly. He wanted to sit and think of his next move. Riki didn't say any more, and the silence yawned into the afternoon. It was so quiet that Neil imagined that he could hear the seaweed and the small movements of a crab as it scuttled across the rock pool in front of them.

Two older girls walked onto the beach towards the water on the other side of the palm tree under which he had lain after being tossed up from the storm. They were both very pretty, with long hair and huge, brown eyes.

The girls waved at Riki, who raised one hand back. They threw down bundles of rope and sat cross-legged opposite each other on the beach. The lines were frayed at the ends and tangled, and the girls began to untangle the rope and roll it up. Neil used to do the same thing, two lifetimes ago, in the fishing village with his sisters and his father.

After a minute the girls started to chat. Neil had picked up enough of the Lampalan language to recognize that they were indulging in a long gossip; although he didn't catch everything they said, he could tell that they were talking about a certain Kyoge, who was tall, strong, and slated for promotion among the palace guards. Neil grinned to himself as he overheard the words 'dreamboat' and 'gorgeous'.

He relapsed into a comfortable dream. In the pool, a small octopus emerged from the shadow of a rock and started to stalk a shrimp.

Neil overheard something. He sat up and turned towards the girls sharply. "Riki," he hissed, and he nudged her.

"What is it?"

"Shhh! Listen to those girls over there and tell me what they're saying!"

Instantly, she put her rod down and crawled over him, stepping painfully on his thigh, so that she could eavesdrop better. "They're talking about a tunnel," she said.

"Shhh! Just listen, and tell me later!"

She shrugged and turned back to the girls. After a few minutes Neil heard the name Yeno, who apparently was a "honeypot."

"That's it," she whispered. This time she trod heavily on his hand. "Now they're just talking about boys again."

"Well, what did they say about the tunnel?" Neil asked.

"There's a rumor going around the village, you know, where we were that first day, where we saw the baby? And the woman waved to us? And started to paint that portrait? Remember?"

"Yes, yes. I know where you mean. What is the rumor?"

"Oh. Well, they said that something is going on in the tunnel that we saw. You know, the one in the mountains, where –"

"Yes, the tunnel!" Neil hissed. "What about it, Riki?"

"I'm getting to that. The girls said it is haunted."

Neil sat back and nodded with satisfaction. "That's what I thought they said." He was hugely pleased with himself and his ability to understand the island language. Balancing his fishing pole between his knees, he took off his glasses and wiped the spray off them with the tail of his shirt.

"And do you know why they think that?" Riki flung out an arm in a dramatic fashion, sending her line with its sharp hook and wriggling bait into the nearby picnic basket. "Oh, blast." She reeled in the hook. "Anyway, they said that there have been sounds coming from the tunnel! And the guards are keeping people away from it! But everyone is afraid of it anyhow! So no one goes there anymore! Still, they both have had strange dreams lately." She paused for emphasis.

Neil nodded. "Ah."

Riki was disappointed with his matter-of-fact acceptance of her story. "Is that all you're going to say?"

"Yes."

"Well of all the –" she stared at him for a moment. Neil laughed as she gulped back a protest with supreme self-control.

That night, Neil waited until he heard Chichilia go up the stairs to her own room. As quietly as he could, he unwound himself from the sheets and got out of bed. He was determined to leave the house and get to Tiriumbutora. If he could reach the mountain, he could start to investigate that tunnel. He was certain that if a rumor had started to go around about the tunnel being haunted, something was happening there. And he intended to fins out exactly what it was.

He stripped off the long nightshirt and felt for the clothes he had hidden in the chest near his bed. Once dressed, he crossed to the door and grasped the handle. A nasty shock froze his heart and stomach when he realized that the door to his room was locked.

Locked in! A rush of pure, unadulterated fury rushed to his head in a red wave. How dare they! He lifted one fist and was about to start to bang and shout out a long stream of abuse.

No. Neil looked at his clenched fist. If he woke everyone in a furious frenzy, they would know that he wanted to leave on a night expedition. Weko looked intelligent, and Neil had no doubt that he was the one who had ordered the key to be turned in the lock. If he heard that his guest was trying to leave, Neil would lose the little freedom he had now.

The key, Neil thought. Now, in the copies of The Boys' Own Paper, the hero would figure out a way of getting his hands on the key and opening the door. The most famous dodge, of course, was when the hero used a thin wire to push the key out of the lock onto the paper they had slid under the crack of the doorjamb below.

It couldn't really work, could it? Feeling rather a fool, Neil looked around. Naturally, he had no useful piece of wire. Still, there had to be something he could use instead.

A straw pot reposed on one side of the room, filled with long peacock feathers. Neil went to it and seized one of the feathers. As soon as he pushed the quill through the keyhole, however, it instantly broke.

With a spluttered curse, he got another and tried again. The end of the feather held, but it was met with unmoving resistance from the other side.

Aha, Neil thought. The Boys' Own Paper neglected to mention that keys, once turned in the lock, essentially are fixed in place and won't push out until they are unlocked.

Blast it all! Neil slumped down against the wall and let his head fall into his crossed arms. There was nothing he could do. He was stuck here, in this beautiful house that was really a prison cell for him. Simon, Miriam and Mana were doomed, and his parents and family would be prosecuted and turned out of their house. What a mess he had made of things.

"Neil?" a small voice queried from the other side of the door.

Neil raised his head and blinked his eyes a bit. Wiping his nose on one sleeve, he managed a husky, "Uh-huh."

"It's me, Riki. Are you trying to open the door? It's locked, stupid!"

"Well, thank you very much!" he whispered back with much pent-up venom. "Where would I be without you to tell me what an idiot I am?!" There was a long silence, and he began to regret his words. "Riki?" he said.

The key slowly turned in the lock and the door opened. "It's me," she said unnecessarily.

"Get in here," he said, pulling her by one arm and closing the door.

"But what were you trying to do?" Riki asked.

He shook his head in a disgusted way and plopped down on the bed. "Forget it," he said wearily. "You were right, I am stupid. In fact, probably I am the most oafish, idiotic clod in the history of mankind."

"Oh, stow it," Riki snapped. She put her fists on her hips and looked at him. "You were going to try to go back to that mountain, weren't you?"

He lifted his head. "How did you guess?"

"Oh, come on. I'm not such a kid as all that. We overheard the girls telling that story on the beach, and it just makes sense that you would want to go and investigate. Besides, it's what I would do myself, especially since that tunnel is forbidden."

"Well, obviously I can't, because your parents have decided to lock me in like a prisoner."

Riki gasped, raised her eyebrows, and gestured towards the wide-open door with both arms. "Hello!" She widened her eyes.

"Well, I can't go now," Neil said. "You'll want to raise the alarm, or something."

"Of all the–" Words failed her. "As if I would!" she finally squeaked.

He shook his head. "No, I didn't mean that; it's just that now you'll want to come too, and when I say no, you'll raise a fuss, and everyone will wake up, and my plan is foiled."

"Well, why can't I come along?" Riki jutted her sharp chin at him.

"I'll be putting you in danger!" Neil said. "I can't allow you to get hurt." Riki opened her mouth, and he interrupted. "See, I knew it. Now you're going to cry, or scream, or have hysterics or something. Or all three."

She stood with mouth open, staring at him, for a minute. She snapped her jaw shut with an audible click. "Is that how you think of me?" she demanded.

Neil shrugged, and lay back on the bed. What the devil would he do now? He rubbed his eyes with one hand.

Riki sat cross-legged on the floor in front of him. "You obviously can't do anything at all by yourself," she said in a calm voice. "You need someone to help you, and it looks like I'm all you've got."

Neil couldn't help smiling. He reached out one arm and brushed back her hair (done in untidy braids, as usual) with one hand. "Thanks," he replied. "But –"

"And you really do need to help your friends, don't you?" she interrupted.

How had she known about that? She must have been listening when he had argued with Weko. "Well, yes."

"And you were feeling pretty bad about the entire situation before I opened the door, and now you feel better, don't you?" she insisted. This looked like a nasty case of second sight. Neil nodded in agreement, and she pressed her advantage. "Let's make plans. Now, here's what we'll do: we'll sneak down and get some food, and some drinks, and some rope, and you know, some other supplies, and we'll take off through the back door and go by that jungle path. You get the rope and things, and I'll get the food. Oh, and I'd better get dressed so I'm not in pajamas. You too. Very well! Meet you downstairs in a bit!"

She made for the bedroom door, but Neil grabbed her arm. "We can't go now; it's too late!" he hissed at her. "We've wasted too much time tonight. The sun will be rising before we even get to the tunnel! We'll have to make plans for tomorrow night instead."

Riki smiled, a wide grin of pure joy. "Do you mean it?" she asked. "I can really go with you?"

He grinned back. "Looks like you're all I've got."

A thought struck her. "Hey, let's draw up a list of what we need to do, and we can prepare tomorrow."

Feeling better than he had in days, Neil agreed.

## CHAPTER 8: What Happened that Night

DURING THE LONG hours the next day, Neil had many causes to regret his rash promise to Riki. Entranced with the idea of a nocturnal journey to a forbidden place, she spent her time finding unsuitable objects that she thought were vital for the journey and showing them to Neil. Finally, after she brandished a green parasol triumphantly in his face, he abandoned her and escaped to the kitchen.

"Djire, Odjo," Neil said, greeting the fat cook. Odjo turned and smiled, somewhat wanly. Tache was housed in a small cabin, which was really more like a shack, behind the gardens in the back of the house. Her father spent whatever free moments he had visiting her and coaxing fish broth and other strange brews into her, but the girl had showed little, if any, improvement. "Lemya akwisi fet?" Neil asked, offering to help.

Lifting the lid of a huge, smoking pot, Odjo delicately sprinkled the contents with a few grains of red powdered spice, and sniffed the escaping steam. He waited until he closed the lid of rice before he looked at Neil and shook his head. "Ile," he said. "Fet ile akwisi. Fet ile lemya."

"Oh, come on," Neil couldn't help retorting.

Odjo wiped his hands on his spotless apron and appeared to consider Neil for a moment. He shrugged and picked up a tray with a delicate porcelain bowl. Uncovering another saucepan, Odjo ladled out some type of clear soup that smelled delicious into the bowl, covered it with a linen napkin and headed for the back door.

Neil stood where he was, feeling rather nonplussed, until Odjo popped his head back around the door and beckoned to the boy. Neil started and ran after the large man who was already disappearing between rows of vines that hung with clusters of some type of green, spiky fruit growing in an island version of a kitchen garden.

Odjo's flapping apron rounded a corner. Neil caught up with him just as he opened the door to a small shack that looked as if it had been built out of rusted metal. Inside, the heat and the flies were fierce, although someone (undoubtedly Odjo) had hung muslin in front of the opening that served as a window to keep out some of the insects.

The large man put the tray on a box and knelt by a heap of blankets. The girl Tache laid there, her eyes half-open, her hair wet with sweat. Neil exclaimed and clapped one hand to his nose as the smell hit him. She had been dirty the last time he saw her, and now she just simply stank. There was no other word for it.

Odjo picked up a fan made of woven straw and waved it over her face. It only served to increase the smell. Neil's stomach heaved. At the same time, the cook tried to maneuver the bowl of soup into his other huge palm, causing the tray to tilt perilously.

"Bwah," Neil said disgustedly and grabbed the fan from the cook. Breathing as shallowly as possible, he waved the fan at the girl's face. A slight breeze of warm air was the result. Meanwhile, Odjo gently put the bowl to his daughter's lips, but the broth poured out of her mouth and down her neck. He wiped it with his apron and tried again, with the same result.

"Oh, look, this is ridiculous," Neil finally said. He flung down the fan and strode out of the hut. Ignoring the yells of 'Magano!', Neil tore open the back door, marched through the kitchen and ran into Riki.

"Hey!" she said instantly, her eyes lighting up. "Look at this!" She held up a huge antique barometer. "This will come in handy for the – you know." She dropped her voice to a secretive growl on the last two words.

Neil seized her shoulders. "Where is Chichilia?" he demanded.

"Owww! What? Why do you want–" Seeing a hitherto unknown look of fury in his eye, Riki quailed and said, "She's sitting on the veranda, I think."

Neil let her go and made for the front of the house. "Chichilia!" he thundered.

The front door opened. "What is it, Mr. Neil? You startled me!" Chichilia pressed one hand to her chest.

"Chichilia," Neil said, bearing down on her, "Odjo's daughter is dying in that ridiculous little box in the garden. It's like hell in there. She must be given a real place to sleep at once."

"Oh!" she said, leaning back against the wall. "You certainly frightened me! I thought something had happened to you or Riki. No, I'm afraid I can't allow that, Mr. Neil."

"Very well. I leave your house this afternoon." Neil folded his arms.

"What! Don't even suggest such a – look, my husband will be back in a few days from Mixiamani. Let's discuss it." Chichilia smiled brightly.

Neil shook his head. "Absolutely not. In a few days Tache will be dead. Either she is moved indoors to a well-ventilated area, and given proper medical attention, or I pack to leave now."

Chichilia actually wrung her hands. "What can I do!" she said. "I can't allow you to leave, but I can't move her in either. If only Weko were here!"

"Weko wouldn't want someone to die in his garden!" Neil shouted, losing his patience.

Riki came from behind him and put one hand on her sleeve. "You can tell Papi that I will be very, very good every day from now on if you do as Neil says," she suggested.

Neil looked at her with surprise, and he nodded. "Yes, and you can also blame the entire situation on me."

Chichilia pressed her hands to her mouth and said through them, "You naughty children! If only you could leave things alone. Weko will certainly be horrified."

It'll be good for him, Neil thought. He abandoned her and headed back to the kitchen. Riki, of course, followed him, but she was called back by her mother. Riki protested out of habit and quickly stopped, perhaps remembering her promise to be good.

By that afternoon, Tache had been carried to a small room at one corner of the house. Odjo had protested just as vociferously as Chichilia had; his sensibilities of what was right and fitting had been offended by the suggestion that his daughter could sleep inside with the family. Once he had realized that it could only help her to get better, however, he had agreed. After being washed and laid onto clean sheets in a cool, darkened room, the girl had finally fallen into a natural sleep.

After that, Neil felt exhausted and thought he'd better get a nap himself, since he was going to be awake all night. He managed to corner Riki just as she ran off to rummage in a box-room on the top floor. "Put down that pith helmet. Go on, put it down at once."

Riki obeyed. "What do you want?" She had a note of suspicion in her voice.

"I want to sleep for a few hours. You should take a nap too."

"A nap?" Her voice rose to a squeak. "That is the weakest thing I ever heard – and I'm much too excited to sleep!"

"Suit yourself," Neil said wearily. "Just don't complain tonight that you're tired, or I'll never take you on an expedition of mine again. And if you're going to stay awake, you might assemble a list of really useful things, as well as a few hold-alls to put them in."

"What useful things?" Riki asked.

"Not pith helmets or barometers or parasols, for heaven's sake. Bottles of water. Something to keep us warm. Food. Candles. And keep it light. Remember that we'll have to lug most of that up a mountain."

Riki frowned, and her face lit up. "If I imagine that I'm on the trip, and think of things that I need on the way, wouldn't that be a good idea?"

"A great idea," Neil said. "I'm off." He stumbled to his room, trying not to picture the pile of rubbish that she would assemble.

He slept the entire afternoon, so he didn't have time to talk to Riki before dinner. Obviously she was dying to show him her supplies. During the entire meal, she winked and gave him meaningful looks. When she started to mouth things to him he shook his head; he was afraid that Chichilia or Odjo would notice. They appeared blissfully ignorant, however, or perhaps they were just used to Riki being odd.

Dessert and coffee were finally served, and Riki begged, "May Neil and I leave the table? We're not hungry."

"Riki!" Chichilia said. Neil winced. "Mr. Neil, I'm sure, would like to make up his own mind. Coffee, Mr. Neil?"

"Ah, no," he heard himself reply, catching Riki's beseeching glance. She hopped up and hurrahed, but at that moment Odjo opened the door and said, "Vadjro, logogona. Mandayala uchewe lemla."

Chichilia nodded her head graciously. "Vadugo, Odjo."

Riki sprang to her mother's side and said, "Mandayala is here? We don't have to stay and talk to her, do we?"

"Of course you do!" Chichilia said. "Sit down, children."

Smarting at being called a child, Neil sat down and frowned at Riki, who was trying to signal to him with her eyebrows. The next instant, the door opened again and Odjo bowed to a rather chubby lady wearing an ornate red and gold robe.

"Chichilia!" this vision cried. Chichilia rose from her seat, and the she and Mandayala kissed the air beside each other's cheeks. "Cherche! Jami uchewe fet?"

"Mr. Neil speaks Pearson's language," Chichilia responded, indicating him. "Perhaps you wouldn't mind using that tongue!"

"Oh – ho – ho!" Mandayala hooted. "The English! How quaint!" She took the cup of coffee that Chichilia handed her and peered closely at the room, Neil and Riki. "And how is your family, my dear friend?"

"We are all well, thank you." Neil began to get the impression that Chichilia, for all her air-kisses and offers of coffee, didn't really like Mandayala.

"I'm certain that little Riki here has been leading you a fine dance as usual, no?" Mandayala slurped some coffee and smiled at Riki, who, however, was lost in a daydream of that night's proposed expedition.

"Actually, no." Chichilia smiled widely and put a slice of banana roll onto an emerald-green plate. She handed it to the visitor. "She has been as good as gold lately."

Mandayala seemed disappointed. "Really? You don't say. Well, I'm certain that can't last." She peered closely at Riki again, but the girl merely yawned, leaned on one elbow, and began to hum something without words or tune. Giving up, Mandayala turned back to Chichilia and said, "So, my dear, did you hear about Reni and her problems with her maid and the cook? My goodness, such a scandal! Let me tell the whole of it."

At this, Chichilia quickly interrupted and began speaking in Lampalan, and Neil found his own attention fading. He could follow the gist of the long story, but it involved people he didn't know or even want to meet. As it was the most tiresome type of gossip, eventually he stopped listening altogether. Across the table, he saw that Riki's eyes were closing of their own accord. She'd better wake up and remember to unlock my door tonight, he thought grimly.

Once Mandayala finally waddled off and Riki was herded to bed, Neil lay in his own bed and listened closely. He could hear the mighty tread of Odjo, bearing something up the stairs to Tache's room. Chichilia's light step passed his door, and paused. A light scrape proclaimed that she was turning the key in his lock.

The light in the hall was dimmed, and Neil waited. What if Riki slept all night and forgot about him? He couldn't wait in that locked room forever and not do something. He and Riki should have been making plans all day. He shouldn't have been so concerned about affairs that were none of his own, except that the poor girl had looked so hot and sick in that stifling little shack. He rolled on one side and the other. Time felt as though it scraped by, leaving claw marks on his skin.

There was a light tap on his door, and Riki whispered, "Neil!"

Bless her, bless her! He leaped out of bed and ran to the door. "I'm awake!" he hissed. "Open the door!"

The key rattled, and the door swung open. Riki stepped in with a small canvas sack. "I could hardly wait!" she whispered. "I thought mama would never go to bed!"

"Shhh." Neil drew her into the room and closing the door. "Let's see what you've got here."

He knelt down and opened the bag, and she watched him anxiously. As he looked inside, she burst out, "Torches, crackers and cheese, bottled water, rolled up rugs, and rope. Is that everything we need?"

Neil looked up at her in amazement. "I should say so!" he said. "Well done! And rope too. I entirely forgot about that."

"Yes, I know you did." Her voice was smug, but at that moment Neil could have hugged her.

## CHAPTER 9: The Argument

THE JUNGLE PATH seemed stranger and more mysterious at night. Stripes of moonlight and darkness mottled their skin as Riki and Neil crept through the trees and vines. Riki led the way, and after a bit she said to Neil, over her shoulder, "You should really breathe, you know."

He let out his breath in a rush. He couldn't help thinking that at any moment a guard as huge as the one they had encountered by the palace a few days ago could seize them and offer to cut off their ears.

The thick jungle, filled during the day with the calling of the parrots overhead, was now quiet and dark. This made their footsteps sound particularly loud. Even Riki, who usually moved like a little silent spider, seemed to crash through the plants and vines. The only other sound was the hum of unseen insects and the slight lapping of water on the lagoon's edge.

Riki stopped and put one hand on Neil's arm. "Look," she breathed.

Neil peered in the direction of which she was pointing and saw, dimly, the lights of the palace. At that distance, they appeared to flicker.

"Come on," Neil urged. Excitement prickled on the back of his neck as they neared the huge building, made even more beautiful by the glowing lanterns and candelabras that hung from porticos and windows. The lagoon reflected the entire sight, so that the palace was doubled as a mistier, rippling version of itself. Gosh, Neil said to himself, and beside him, he heard Riki sigh.

"Nice," she said. Turning away from the sight, she whispered to him, "We must go very quietly now, here." She grabbed his hand and threaded her way down the path, nearing the area where the large guard had left them before.

Neil nodded. He concentrated on walking as silently as possible, and he nearly bumped into her when she suddenly froze and squeezed his hand.

He was about to protest when he saw a large shape silhouetted against the lights from the Palace. It raised one arm to its mouth, and a long puff of smoke followed. Neil could hear his own heart beat in his ears. Someone must have left the palace to have a cigar.

The person moved and puffed again, and another shape joined him. More clouds of smoke. Now Neil could smell the strong tobacco. Yuck, he thought, as the smoke wafted towards him; blow me down if I ever take up that particular habit.

One of the men spoke, and he forgot all about the smoke. Hadn't he heard that voice before?

"Majesty," the person said, "we are working as quickly as we can. I appreciate that you want your own profits soon, but we have to abide by our country's laws, my dear fellow. We must do research, refine the drug, and make it less addictive. We also have to find a way to produce it on a mass scale without losing the number of workers that we have. It all creates costs, Atol, old chap." There was a pause and another puff of smoke wafted their way. "I say, decent bit of leaf, this," the voice added.

Atol! Neil nearly jumped. The first man was the king of Lampala! Of all the rotten luck, that the king of the entire bloody country should pick this night to go for a stroll in order to puff on a huge smelly cigar. And who was talking to the king? He knew that voice. He racked his brain, trying to recall, but the answer eluded him. The king and his companion were simply too far away.

There was a rumble from the huge mountain that was Atol, and the first speaker sighed. "Atol! Dear chap! Would I ever try to cheat you?" There was another answering rumble. "I call that too bad of you, old man. Now, I know the stuff is easy to harvest, but the fact is, we've encountered some unforeseen problems with the processing-"

The large, dark mountain interrupted and gestured with the cigar. Its glowing tip wrote fiery hieroglyphs in the night.

"Now, now. It makes no sense to call this thing off," the voice continued soothingly. "Once production is in place and we really get rolling, do you realize how rich we'll all be? Some physicians are starting to suspect opium and laudanum of being dangerous drugs. And, that's not taking into account the nasty tariffs and import costs and the recent wars in the Orient. If we can capture that market, all those bored society widows and out-of-work actors and artists, you can repave your palace in gold if you so desire, my dear fellow."

There was silence from the mountain man before he emitted a final rumble, evidently dismissing the talker. Whoever it was, he took his cue from this and tossed the cigar into the lagoon, breathed out a final cloud of smoke, and said, "Very well. We'll talk more later. Ta-ra, Atol! Sleep well and all that!" A moment later they heard his whistling, growing fainter as he headed towards the palace.

The mountain man stayed where he was, standing motionless by the lagoon. Neil, bursting with impatience, formed desperate, mental orders: Move on. Go away. Get out of here. Shake a leg.

Out of desperation, he was about to urge Riki to try to slither past the king, when the large shape suddenly barked, "Kyoge!"

A third shadow separated itself from the trees and glided over to the king. With a burst of horror, Neil recognized the huge guard who had accosted them the day of the first island tour. It was that huge guard, the one with the nasty knife on the end of his stick. Oh, wonderful, he groaned silently. We're dead now, that's all. Dead and buried, both of us.

"Magano, Atol." The guard planted the all-too-familiar spear on the ground beside him.

The king grunted. "You heard?" he asked in Lampalan. Neil, beneath his terror, felt rather pleased with himself that he understood perfectly what the king was saying in the island language.

"I heard, my king," Kyoge replied.

Atol breathed heavily for a moment. "What are your thoughts?" he asked finally.

Kyoge bowed. "Your majesty has done much already for that man in the matter of the –" he mentioned something that Neil didn't understand.

Atol pondered again. "True," he responded, "although it helps our –" again Neil lost the drift of the conversation. "Kyoge. What about the new import? What are your thoughts on this matter?"

"I may speak honestly?"

The king motioned in an exasperated manner. "Tell."

"We are being cheated by that company's new owners," Kyoge said.

"But we will become rich. My best lawyers wrote the papers."

"I don't mean money, majesty. I mean our people. There has been too much sacrifice already. Some of them have become diseased."

The king clicked his tongue off the roof of his mouth. "Oh, that," he said. "Such things are bound to happen on the eve of great change, and great profit."

"But, Majesty, the worth of a nation is held in its people. And, those who have returned from the mainland become ever more desperate, according to the reports from my men."

Atol shook his head impatiently. "Pfft! A few sick girls. Not worth my notice. Come, escort me back to the palace."

The guard bowed, turned and the two of them moved off into the night.

Neil stood for a few minutes, his thoughts whirling. Eventually Riki whispered, "You can breathe again, idiot."

Neil exhaled in a whoosh and asked, "Did you understand all of that?"

"All of what?"

"What they were talking about!"

"Oh," she answered. "I was bored, so I stopped listening."

"You stopped listening-" Words failed him.

"Come on," she said, grabbing his arm again. "Nobody's here now. We can continue our expedition! Wonder what's in that tunnel? Treasure? Secrets? Skeletons?"

Hmm, Neil thought grimly. He knew exactly whose bones he would like to store in a tunnel at that moment. Giving it up, he followed her on the path, digesting the conversation he had just overheard.

Drugs! Laudanum! What on earth? And – who was that first man, the one who had mentioned laudanum? He knew that voice; it teased him with its inaccessibility.

And what had that large guard, Kyoge, meant when he talked about people being sacrifices? That had been an additional shock. The huge guard with the evil weapon actually spoke like a decent human being. Of the three men who Neil had just listened to, the guard had seemed to make the most sense.

The path widened and began to slope upward as they neared the hills that separated the palace from the marshes. Neil tried not to gasp as he ascended the slope. Days of swimming, fishing and running after Riki, however, had made him leaner and stronger, so that the climb wasn't too difficult.

"How much time until daybreak?" he asked.

"Hard to tell," Riki whispered. "Six, maybe seven hours."

"We've got to be back in our beds before that time."

"Oh," she answered, "if we're not, we'll just say we went to watch the sunrise and see the flying fish off the three-fingered rock."

Neil nodded, impressed. It actually seemed like a valid excuse, and it was one that her parents would believe.

They reached the spot where they had originally bumped into Kyoge, the huge guard, and Riki paused. "Do you think there are any guards down there?" Neil asked.

She shrugged. "Bound to be." Undeterred, she chose a wicked-looking descent towards the lagoon and started down.

Neil slithered behind her, feeling the loose rocks slide under his feet. There was no moon, but the stars were as bright as lanterns, showing the lake below in sharp relief. Beside the water, spiky plants grew in thick clumps, and the ground under Neil's feet felt mushy.

"How are we going to negotiate that?" Neil asked, pointing to the lagoon.

"We'll just go around the outside." Riki pointed to the perimeter.

Neil nodded again. He slid down the last few feet of the path and gingerly tested the ground with one toe. It seemed safe enough where they were, but there was a strange smell rising from the ground around the water. As he paused, he heard a muffled 'bah-blump', and a bubble erupted from the surface two furlongs away from where he stood.

Foul, he thought, following Riki. She had unhesitatingly started along the outside, and he hissed, "Hold on! Let's stick together!"

Riki hopped with impatience and pointed. "Look! I can see the opening, there!" She pointed up to the mountain.

From that distance, the tunnel looked larger, but it was as dark as an unopened tomb. Brrr, Neil thought, suppressing that thought as unbearably cowardly. He forced himself to continue, trying to ignore the slimy feeling underfoot and the increasing smells from the swamp.

The surrounding sounds were different here as well; the insect activity had ceased completely. Instead, they could hear odd plopping and wriggling from the inhabitants of the marsh, as well as the intermittent bubbles of escaping gas.

"Yuck!" The loud exclamation in Lampalan came from ahead of them, and Riki and Neil stopped instantly.

Someone replied, "I hate this job."

The first voice said, "We're really supposed to be in the tunnel, you know."

"No bloody fear," the second one responded. "I heard too many unknown things in there. Besides, how will Old Meatball find out that we didn't stay in there? Will he climb down here himself?"

There was an answering cackle of jeering laughter. "True. She's not going anywhere. I just can't wait to go home, have a bath and drink a big cup of wine."

"Amen to that, my brother," the second voice replied.

Well, Neil thought, we've encountered our second lot of guards. So they're afraid of the tunnel, eh? All the better for us, although it doesn't make our job any more appetizing. And how are we going to get around these fellows?

As if reading his thoughts, Riki pointed into the muddy center of the marsh. Neil knew what she intended and his heart sank; still, it was the only option they had.

He nodded and removed his shirt. He wrapped it around the bag Riki had brought and tied both to his head. Gagging from the stench, he got onto his stomach and began to crawl into the lagoon after Riki. She was already making her way to the tunnel.

They had to stay as low as possible, out of the sight of the guards. The two men appeared to have taken out some dice and started a game. Their play involved much argument, and Neil silently blessed the one who had suggested it. Being so close to the ground, however, meant that they were breathing in the noxious fumes. Something hideous slimed its way over Neil's ankle, and he bit his lip in order not to shout with disgust. A minute later, one of the mud bubbles burst in his face, covering him and his glasses with evil-smelling mud. Wiping as much as he could off his lenses, Neil began to curse steadily to himself as he inched along.

At any moment, he knew that one of the men would shout and point in their direction. How could they not see two dark shapes moving along the ground in that bright starlight? Doomed, he thought, continuing his dreary chant to himself. Captured. Imprisoned.

His hand touched something solid and warm, and with a start he realized that he was holding Riki's ankle. She shook him off and pointed, and Neil climbed out of the ooze.

They were at the mountains. They had reached the entrance to the tunnel.

## CHAPTER 10: The Hanging Cage

NEIL COULD SCARCELY believe that the guards hadn't seen them. He felt that, at any moment, the men would creep up behind him, clutching their spears. When Riki grabbed his arm, it took everything he had not to shout with fear.

Riki pointed out the mountain. It had a well-marked trail winding up the side, which was obviously used by the guards to get up to the tunnel. The path led right to the dark recess in the mountainside.

Riki immediately darted to the path and began to climb, leaving some muddy footprints in the dust. Neil scrambled up the rocks after her. Behind him, he could hear the faint echo of the guards arguing. Neil couldn't catch all the words, but it sounded like one was accusing the other of cheating at dice.

They ascended steadily, pausing only to catch their breath. Neil gasped for air, but Riki only allowed him a few seconds' rest. "Sunrise will start before we know it" she whispered. He just nodded, knowing that she was right.

At last, the path ended. In front of them was the large, dark opening. It was indeed an entrance to a cave, or at least a tunnel.

Riki plunged, climbed into the opening. Neil paused, looking back over the valley, at the lagoon separating them from the palace, the jungle and Riki's own house.

She tugged on his sleeve and he followed her into the tunnel. The stone walls swallowed the echoes of the gamblers' quarrel in an instant.

In the tunnel, it was silent except for the sound of a steady drip-drip of water that sluiced down from the top of the mountain. The hole was pitch dark as well, until Riki struck a match and a small point of light flared up. "Ooooh, look at this!" She turned and stared at the walls. "What a great place to play Army or Pirates – Yowch!" She dropped the match and blew on her fingers.

"Try it again," Neil advised, "but this time, actually light a torch instead of trying to see everything by match-light."

"Good idea." Riki was probably too excited to argue.

He heard her rustle in her bag for a moment, and the point of light flared again. This time Neil was able to see the length of the tunnel for some yards; however, he couldn't make out where it actually ended.

"Isn't this amazing!" Riki said. She held up the flaming brand and waved it around, craning her neck to see as much as she could. "What do you know? There is sand underfoot. We could run races in here. I think I'd win, too. We could spend the night too, of course. Bit soggy, though. This is going to be my new spot. I christen it – Riki's Tunnel."

"Great name," Neil couldn't help saying. "Original. How did you ever come up with that one?" He unwound his shirt, put it back on, and tried to wipe his muddy glasses on one sleeve.

She ignored him and began to walk away, thrusting her torch into any dark crannies. "Let's see where it goes!"

"Hey! Your bag!" She ignored him. He picked up the abandoned object and followed her.

The drip grew louder, followed by a trickle. We must be going right through the mountain, Neil thought. Despite his blasé attitude, he couldn't help being as excited as Riki. After all, how many times in his life would he get to explore a forbidden tunnel in the heart of a mountain?

"This is great!" Riki whooped.

"Shh," Neil cautioned her. "Those guards might follow us in any minute."

"Oh, they won't," Riki said with supreme confidence, and she stopped. "Neil? What's that?" A thin wail suddenly echoed down the walls of the stone passage. This was followed by a loud, long hiss. "Neil!" Riki screamed, dropped the torch, and threw herself into his arms. The light promptly went out.

He thrust her away. Silence returned, punctuated only by the dripping water, and the high wail started again. The dreadful sound made the hair on Neil's neck prickle. "What – uh – um –" he gabbled, and managed to get a grip on himself. "Let's light that torch again. Let go of my arm, would you?" Shaking her off, he managed to work matches out of the bag and light one. Holding it to the wooden brand serving as their torch, he saw that his hands were shaking.

"But what was that?" She clamped her hands around his elbow again.

"Well, how should I know?" he snapped. "Come on, we can't just stay here!"

"But I don't want to go any further!"

"Suit yourself. I'm moving on." He got up, slung the bag on his back and dragged Riki, whose feet were sliding in the sand on the floor. She still hadn't let go of his arm. He shook her again. "Riki, stop it! You said you wanted to be an explorer and have adventures – well, this is one! At least be brave!"

She swallowed and let go. "Very well," she whispered and let go of his arm, although she stayed close to him.

He felt annoyed, more at himself for being frightened than at her. What kind of a rescuer was he? The last thing he wanted to do was to keep walking through that dripping, wailing tunnel; in fact, he desired nothing more than to run back to Riki's house, hide in his own bed and wait for morning. Idiot, he said to himself. Coward. Lily-liver.

They crept forward, Riki's eyes widening as the wail died away and was followed by the hissing sound. "Do you think it is a snake?" she whispered. "A big, poisonous one?"

"Snakes don't wail like that, nor at all, at least not in my country. And if it is, at least it's some harmless animal and not a – waah!" He scrambled back and felt for the side of the tunnel. As he did so he lost his grip on the torch, which plummeted downward.

Its dying light showed that they were on the very edge of a huge cliff. They were so close that if Neil had taken another step he would have gone over the side. In front of them, the path ended abruptly on a rocky overhang that stuck out a short distance above the wickedly sharp rocks on the beach far below them.

"Neil! Are you all right? We almost took a dive there, didn't we? Can you imagine if we had gone right over that cliff? Wonder if we would have survived. I bet I would have made it. You would have been squashed, though."

"We lost our light," Neil interrupted her.

"Oh, that. I packed another torch in the bag."

Neil nodded. "Good job," he admitted. Thank goodness he hadn't let that precious bag fall as well. For the umpteenth time, he lit a match (which promptly went out in the open air) moved back into the shelter of the tunnel and tried again, and lit the other brand. It flared up instantly and revealed the end of the tunnel. The dark passage stopped abruptly at the cliff and ended in the precarious ledge they stood on.

The thin wail started again. Suddenly furious, Neil yelled back, "Shut up, can't you? Just shut it!"

Riki gasped. There was silence for a long moment, and below them a human voice said, "Neil? Neil, could that possibly be you?"

He jumped. "Did you hear that voice?" he asked Riki. She just opened her eyes even wider and raised her hands in a hopeless, I-have-no-earthly-idea gesture.

"Neil!" the voice repeated. "Down here!"

"It's coming from beneath us," Neil said. Handing the torch to Riki, he got down on his stomach and peered over the ledge.

He could make out something that he had only seen in his dreams, long ago. A long chain was tethered to the underside of the ledge. It hung down about twenty feet; a cage was suspended in midair by the huge chain. He could see two hands clutching the bars on the roof of the cage and a face that looked up at him.

"Hold that torch over here, will you?" he said to Riki. She ignored him, and demanded, "Who is that? How does she know your name? Why is she in that cage? How did she get there?"

Motioning her to be quiet, Neil said, "Mana?"

"It is you!" In the gloom, her face tipped back, and she thrust one arm through the bars of the cage. "I didn't know if you could ever find me or not. I am so glad that you're here."

"And I'm so glad I've found you," he said.

"Well, I have been in better places," she shot back in her normal, governess voice.

He grinned, feeling as though the world had just started to tip back to reality. "I didn't mean that," he said. "Listen, Simon and Miriam were put on that train, I think. You know, the Express. I don't know where they are now; I just sort of jumped into a boat and followed you here. Mana, what are we going to do now?"

She shifted her hands in order to get a better grip on the bars. The movement caused the cage to shift and swing, so that she was hidden from view for a few moments. When the cage stopped swinging, she asked, "You have some idea of the political situation on Lampala?"

"A little bit," he said. "There's a ruler called Atol, and he is in league with-"

"Yes, forget all that for now," Mana said, interrupting him. "The Glorious Corona is in a safe place, far from here," she mused. "If only we could get hold of the Sacred Documents..."

"Sacred documents – what are they?"

"Papers inscribed with our laws," Riki said, interrupting. "No one knows exactly where they're kept. But, who is she? Who's in the cage?" Riki held the torch out so hot embers burnt his neck.

"Riki, stop!" Neil thundered without turning his head. "Stop asking questions and stop burning me!"

"Is that a friend of yours?" Mana asked. Her voice, even at that distance, sounded amused.

"I'm called Riki," the girl announced. "I'm Neil's best friend, and we'll probably get married some day. Who are you?" she added.

"Riki, I am very pleased to make your acquaintance," Mana said. "I'm certain that you have been a huge help to Neil already, since you are here. He'll tell you all about me now, and about our other friends. Now, let me talk to Neil quickly, since the sun will be coming up soon."

Riki seemed to accept this and subsided. Neil called down again, "What can we do?"

"Can you get me out of here?" Mana asked. "No, maybe not. What you'll have to do is to get as much help as you can."

"But who can we ask?" Neil asked. "I don't know anyone –"

"You already know the right people," Mana said. "You just have to convince them."

Neil pondered for a moment. He jumped and turned his head. "Someone's coming down the tunnel!"

Mana threw her head back and opened her mouth. A moment later he and Riki heard the same unearthly wail that had frightened them so badly in the passageway. There was an exclamation from within and a hurried scramble, followed by sounds of extremely sudden departure back down the mountain.

"What on earth was that?" Neil asked. "Did you actually make that noise?"

"Just a little trick I know," Mana said. "You can't go back that way, though; that's certain. You'll have to climb down the cliff."

"Climb down the cliff!" Neil repeated.

"I bet I could do it," Riki said immediately. He ignored her.

"There's a series of rough steps cut into the wall," Mana said, lifting one arm and pointing. "You'll have to be very careful, though."

Neil turned his head and saw, cut into the cliff, a long descent hewed right into the rocks. The steps looked terribly steep and far apart, and he felt dizzy just looking at them. "Very well." He licked dry lips. "I'll do it."

"Me too!" Riki said.

"Mana," Neil asked, "are they feeding you? I mean, do you have everything you need?"

"I'll be fine," she said, and one corner of her mouth lifted in a smile.

He considered for a moment and looked over his shoulder at Riki. "What else did you bring in that bag?" he asked.

She squatted down and began to rummage through it. "I told you. Cheese, and some crackers, and a stone bottle of water –"

Neil grabbed the cheese and the water and looked over the ledge again. "I'm going to throw some supplies down," he called. Of course, a slight breeze started at that instant, making the cage sway. Neil waited, forcing back his impatience, until the bamboo box was underneath him, and he dropped the cheese as carefully as he could. There was a slight thud as it hit the bars, and Mana hooked it with one hand and drew it into the cage.

"Got it," she said. The effort made her stop and cough.

"Look out, this one's trickier." He craned one arm down and dropped the bottle as straight as he could. It dropped onto the cage and nearly rolled off, but she managed to catch it as well and pull it inside her prison.

"Thank you, Neil," she said. "I won't deny that these are very welcome indeed."

Neil nodded. He reflected with fury that the guards were probably too nervous of the tunnel to give her proper food and water. Cowardly beasts! If he ever got big enough, he would pay them out for that; you could bet on it. "How about a blanket? Are you cold?"

"Forget about that. You must leave now," Mana called urgently.

"Me first," Riki said, who had been eyeing up the rough steps. She stepped onto the first one without any hesitation, and Neil, feeling a bit ashamed, followed her carefully.

The world seemed to tilt beneath him as he stepped off the ledge. It seemed a dreadfully long gap to the first step. For one heart stopping moment Neil thought that he would slip and fall down onto the wicked, sharp rocks below him.

A slim, brown hand curled around his ankle and stabilized him. Neil righted himself, but he hadn't even the breath left to thank Riki.

He discovered that there were rocks above the steps that jutted out at intervals to cling onto; probably they had been put there as handholds. Riki, in front of him, climbed down the stairs easily, humming to herself.

The staircase, if you could call it that, took them past where Mana hung, twisting in the horrible cell that Atol had put her in.

As they climbed down the steps past Mana, she waved and called something out to them. Neil, however, couldn't hear what she said. The steps sloped away from where she was suspended, and the waves got louder as they climbed down towards the sea.

There was no way of rescuing anyone from there, even if they had something to catch her with and haul her in, Neil reflected. They would have to find some other way.

Don't look down, don't look down, he repeated to himself. The steps got narrower and steeper, as if the builders had become tired of hewing stone and skimped on their construction at the bottom, and he clung desperately to the little handles of rock cut into the cliff.

The sky had begun to turn light pink by that time. Thank goodness they didn't have to crawl through the hideous swamp again. He shuddered, thinking of the slimy things he had felt crawling over his feet in the muck.

His foot missed a step and horror froze his heartbeat as he felt himself fall. There was no time to think that he was dead, however; he crashed onto a flat rock about a foot below him.

"Ha, ha," Riki jeered, pointing at him. She was standing on another rock a short distance away. "I didn't fall at all. Hey, you look even dirtier now than the first time I saw you! Yuck, you have that mud all over your face! We'd better go swimming with our clothes on once we reach a sandy beach before anyone sees us like this."

Neil surreptitiously smelled one sleeve and agreed, although he would never admit it to her. "Come on," he said, getting up. "I'm going to fall asleep unless we start moving right away."

"Me too," Riki said. "And, I'm starving. I wish we had more of those crackers. In fact, I wish I had a plateful of Odjo's sandwiches and mango rolls."

Neil, feeling his stomach rumble in response, could only nod. He turned away from the stone steps, and stopped dead.

There, set into the cliff in the shape of a circle, was a series of twelve silver discs.

## CHAPTER 11: Convincing Weko

NEIL AND RIKI followed the huge cliffs, sticking as close as possible to the shoreline. On the hidden side of the island, however, there was very little beach, and the thin strip of land was mainly made up of huge rocks and boulders. Neil began to feel very tired as he struggled through them. The only other thing to do was to slosh into the salt water, but there the rocks were unseen under the waves. He was afraid that, as tired as he was, he would fall and break his leg.

The long streaks of pink and purple in the sky from the ensuing sunrise lengthened. Soon, Neil thought, Odjo will get up and start baking bread, which means that Chichilia will come down for breakfast and wonder where we are, which means...

Neil climbed over another slippery rock. The thought of breakfast made his stomach rumble. Odjo usually made little white rolls for breakfast. They were crusty on top and light in the middle. Riki always ate hers with about a pound of butter and guava jelly. The cook baked fish cakes, too, and pounded plantains into small patties that were fried and salted.

"Neil, are you still thinking about food?" Riki asked in a weary voice. He could only nod, feeling his insides twist. "Maybe we can find some turtle's eggs," she continued. "If you see those sweeping sort of tracks on the sand, do you know what I mean, tell me, and we'll dig for them."

"There is no sand. And what are we going to do, suck them raw?"

"Well, you come up with a better idea!"

Since this was completely unlike the usually good-natured Riki, Neil swallowed his own curt response and asked, "Did you have any idea of what Mana and I were talking about?"

"Not much." Riki turned her face up to his and raised her eyebrows.

"We have to get her out of that cage," Neil said. "She's probably cold at night, and they probably just let her get wet when a storm comes, and if no one feeds her, they'll leave her to die."

Riki looked at him. He thought she forgot her hunger as she lit up with her familiar enthusiasm. "We can rescue her!" she said. "But how? We can't get her up from that ledge, even if we both pulled on that chain. And it's too far from that stone staircase. Could we train animals to work our will? Maybe monkeys!"

Neil interrupted Riki, who was obviously picturing herself as the Jungle Wonder Girl. "No. We can't pull her up. But perhaps your father and brothers could, though."

She turned to him, excited, and her face fell. "Naah. Weko'll never go for it. He'd be too afraid that he'd lose his new gardens, or the family portrait they want to have painted, or his position, or the new dining room furniture, or something silly like that."

Neil nodded. "Yes, you're right, but if we can convince him –"

"But we can't –"

"But if we can. Just listen and don't interrupt for five seconds. If we put him in a good mood, for example, by you being absolutely, positively on your best behavior."

"He'll want to help us. Ha!" Riki clapped her hands, entranced with the thought of tricking her father.

"Just don't overdo it," Neil warned with some misgivings. "You don't have to bow to him, or wash his feet, or anything like that."

"As if I would!" Riki lifted her nose in the air and sauntered on for a few steps. Something struck her. "That woman – Mana – said that you would tell me all about her. Who is she?"

"Well, I'm not really sure," Neil said. He began to recount how he met the governess. This led to telling about Miriam, and Simon, and how they had all met at Miriam's house. Riki kept asking about Mana. Neil had no answer for any of her questions.

Who was Mana, anyway? He had no idea. As far as anyone knew, she had appeared out of nowhere and become Miriam's governess. The only thing he could say for certain about her was that when Mana said something, he believed it with no hesitation whatsoever.

Riki suddenly interrupted him and pointed. "Look, is that a path?"

Neil peered at the large rocks that they were on, and between two of them there was a large gap. "It might be. Hadn't we better stick to the beach though? Suppose we go past the palace that way and run into more of those guards?" he asked.

"But that will take forever if we keep going around," Riki complained. "Besides, I bet we've passed the palace by now."

"Maybe."

Riki ignored him and shot between the rocks. Cursing under his breath, Neil followed her. He wanted breakfast as badly as she did, but he did not want to risk another confrontation with any of the palace goons.

The gap, however, widened and became a sandy straightaway that led into the trees. Neil was just in time to see Riki disappear into a tumble of vines. "Riki, you idiot!" he yelled as loud as he dared. "Wait for me!"

Her face popped up out of the leaves. "See? Told you! There's the way we want – it leads right back to my house. You really should listen to me more often. Come on – I want coffee and mangos and breadfruit fritters."

Neil's head spun at the thought of food. He followed as quickly as he could and realized that she was right – they had stumbled on another juncture of the path that led to the palace. "You mean," he said to himself, "we could have come this way instead of crawling through that marsh?" His scalp still itched at the thought of all the ooze they had crawled through, and the live things slithering over his legs - ugh.

Riki turned and laughed at him again. "Ya-ha! You got dirty for no reason! You're filthy again, too. Your glasses are covered with green spots, and your shirt smells."

Neil, out of patience, gave her a shove. "Go on. Last one home has to clean up the breakfast dishes."

Riki stopped laughing and shot off.

"But why did you have to go fishing so early?" Chichilia repeated.

Neil tried to swallow the huge lump of bread in his mouth as politely as possible. In his room, he had scrubbed until he tingled, but his nails were still dirty, he saw now. Curling them under his spoon, he repeated, "We thought we could get bigger fish earlier in the morning."

But you didn't catch any!" she said.

"Ah, yes, that is true. However, not for lack of trying. We sat for a few hours on the sand and realized that we wouldn't catch anything, so –"

The door opened. Neil, hoping that Riki had come to breakfast at last in order to help him in his story, was dismayed when Weko entered, followed by Jirili and Kakujife.

The tall man bowed to Neil and went to kiss his wife's cheek. The two brothers ignored him entirely and sitting down, began to discuss something in low, earnest tones.

Chichilia poured cups of coffee for the three men and said to Neil, "Weko just got back last night."

"Late." He took a long sip of coffee. "Ah, this is excellent, my dear."

"Um, how late was that?" Neil asked, feeling ridiculous.

"It must have been just about sunrise, since you and Riki were already gone on your little jaunt." Weko looked at Neil for a long moment.

To his own annoyance, Neil felt his face flush. "Oh, yes. We decided to leave early; that is, we wanted to get away before anyone was up. That is, before her parents were up." Worse and worse, he thought to himself, realizing that he was babbling with nervousness.

Weko smiled, showing very white teeth with a large gap in the middle, which made him look actually human. "That is fine, Mr. Neil!" he boomed. "I am glad that you and Riki are becoming such good friends."

Jirili looked at Neil and asked, "How much do we know about this white boy, Father? Why do we trust him with our sister?"

"Nonsense," Chichilia said. "Stop it with the insults, Jirili. Mr. Neil has been nothing but polite and honorable with Riki."

"Perhaps you say that because it is convenient for you," Kakujife interjected. "Forgive me, mother, but you have been able to have more time for yourself and freedom lately, is that not so?"

"Weko, will you permit your sons to speak to their mother in this way?" Chichilia put down her knife with a slap.

"Father," Jirili insisted, "I heard that the daughter of the cook was moved inside this very house, and at this boy's insistence. We are housing one of those dangerous lunatics now, and it is all due to him." At once, the adults all began talking over each other, gesturing furiously with knives, spoons, and rolls of bread.

Neil sank in his seat. Wonderful. It was all finished. Convince these blokes to help him? He wouldn't even be able to argue that they should let him stay in their house. What a sap-skulled idea, to make Chichilia move Tache inside. Still, he couldn't have allowed the girl to lie outside in the heat and flies. That was for certain.

The door suddenly opened, and everyone stopped talking as Riki walked in. Neil glanced up and stared in disbelief. Both sides of her hair were elaborately braided, she wore a becoming dress of spotless, dazzling white, and her eyes were cast down in a modest way. "Good morning, Papi." She walked demurely to Weko's chair and bent down to kiss him on his cheek.

Neil groaned. It was too much. Weko, whose intelligence he respected, would certainly smell a very large rat. However, the large man sat with his mouth open for a moment and smiled as he put one massive arm around his daughter's waist. "Good morning, Riki." He patted his daughter's hand. "You look very pretty this morning in that dress. Now, what are your plans for today?"

Riki glided to her seat at the table. "I want to clean out my parrot's cage, and the fishpond, and after all that I hope to catch up with my temple embroidery."

An astonished silence reigned. Weko broke it by dropping a cup into his saucer, where it clattered loudly. "Oh, forgive me. Wonderful. Chichilia, my dear, I congratulate you. Somehow, over the past week, you have tamed our daughter."

Chichilia, who was usually so proper, waved a forgotten bite of food speared on a fork in front of her face. She put down the fork and cleared her throat. "To be perfectly honest, Weko, I had nothing to do with it. All the credit must go somewhere else."

As one person, Chichilia, Weko, Jirili and Kakujife turned to stare at Neil, who turned red and retreated behind his napkin. He pretended to clear his throat. Finally, Jirili spoke. "I fear that I have wronged you, Neil, as a guest of my parents and the friend of my sister. Perhaps you do not realize it, but for us who have known Riki all our lives, it is astonishing to see the miracle you have achieved here this day."

"I, too, must apologize," Kakujife added. "I spoke hastily earlier before I was cognizant of all the facts in the case. Will you forget our verbal attack on your person, and let us welcome you anew to our home? In fact, may we start completely afresh?"

It's just like listening to a Royal Address or the bishop's sermon with these two, Neil thought. Awkwardly, he jerked his head in recognition, although he didn't dare look at Riki. If he met her glance, he would probably start to laugh.

"Indeed, Mr. Neil," Weko said, "it was a bright day for us when you appeared on our beach. You may count on my life-long thanks and support."

Riki cleared her throat. "Excuse me, Papi, but Neil has something to say."

Neil felt his face get even redder. Feeling a bit like a ripe beetroot, he took a sip of coffee to fortify himself; Riki was right – it was now or never. Taking a deep breath, he stood up and opened his mouth. "Weko," he said, but it came out as a squeak. "Weko," he tried again, "I must ask you something."

"What is it?" Weko demanded, his large brows knitting. He picked up his cup again and took a long slurp of coffee.

"Papi, please listen to him," Riki said in her sweetest voice.

Neil flashed her a grateful look and continued, "You remember that I asked you about Manapalata Postulate some time ago? It has to do with her. Please, don't interrupt – just hear me out for once. You can give me that much." Weko subsided, glowering, and Neil coughed. "I know her. Quite well. In fact, I have spoken to her many times, since she became Miriam Pearson's governess. I was a friend of Simon's – Miriam's guardian's son, that is. That's how I met Miriam, and through her, Mana."

"Princess Manapalata, a governess?" Chichilia asked, raising her elegant eyebrows. "What kind of nonsense is this? A member of our royal family would never stoop to such a thing."

"She was really Miriam Pearson's teacher?" Weko asked.

"I don't know how or why that happened," Neil explained, "but she simply appeared out of nowhere when the Marchpanes, Simon's parents, became Miriam's guardians. They advertised for a governess, and she arrived on their doorstep."

"The Marchpanes," Weko echoed. "I have heard of him, anyway, and his partner, Cantwell."

"Mr. Cantwell!" Neil said suddenly, smacking himself on his forehead. "That's who it was! Remember I told you I thought I knew that voice by the Palace, Riki?"

"Um, Neil," she replied.

"When were you by the palace?" Jirili growled.

Neil shook his head. "Oh, never mind all that now. The thing is, Miriam and Simon were kidnapped and put on a train going somewhere in the middle of the night."

"Princess Manapalata would never allow such a thing to happen to a child in her care, if this claim of yours that she was indeed a governess is true!" Chichilia said.

"She didn't allow it. At least, she couldn't do anything about it. She was kidnapped as well – to this island."

Instantly, the members of the family all began to speak at once. Neil spread out his hands, trying to calm the resultant uproar. "Listen to me!" he shouted. "The princess is still here on the island. She is imprisoned in a horrible cage, hanging from the cliffs beyond the tunnel! I have to rescue her to find my friends, and I can't do it without you!"

There was silence for a moment. "You realize what you are asking of us?" Weko said, leaning forward and fixing Neil with a glare. "You are asking me to forfeit my house, my position and all my wealth – and perhaps even my family as well."

Neil sighed and sat down. "I know, Weko," he replied. "I really can't expect you to say yes."

"You really can't expect my father to help you in this insane misadventure of yours!" Kakujife said, also staring at Neil.

"As I was going to say, I understand how you feel, Weko, because I did the same thing when my friends and Miss – Princess – Manapalata were kidnapped. I left my school, and I jeopardized my scholarship," Neil said in quiet desperation. "My parents could be in jail right now, this minute, along with my brothers and sisters, for the kidnapping of my friends and my disappearance. They could have lost our house, and be living on the streets. I have probably lost my only chance to ever attend school and help support my family. But I had to do leave the mainland. I just couldn't let whoever the kidnappers were capture and maybe hurt Simon and Miriam. And Mana."

He stopped, and lowered his eyes. He could think of nothing else to say.

The door from the kitchen creaked, and Odjo stood in the entrance. He pointed one plump finger at Neil and said, "I hear what you say. I go with you. I help you, if you need me, boy."

"Well!" Riki said. "I didn't know Odjo spoke your language, Neil!"

"Neither did I." Neil smiled. "Thanks, Odjo! I accept your help. Maybe together we can do something together, although I don't know what."

"Now, wait just a moment," Weko said. "My cook is not going to run off with you on some fool errand –"

"Father!" Riki cried, unable to bear it anymore.

"I was going to say – without me." Weko closed his mouth firmly.

Jirili pulled the corners of his mouth down and looked at Kakujife, who nodded slightly. "We will also help you, Neil," he said.

Riki instantly dashed to his side and began pummeling him. "We're going, Neil! Did you hear? We did it! At least, you did it!"

Neil could only gape and flap his mouth. "You – you helped, too," he finally stammered.

"Riki!" Chichilia said, and everyone flinched. "You are not going back to that dreadful place!"

"Oh, Chichilia, I mean Mami, pleeeease?" Riki begged. "I'll be ever so good for ever so many months. No, years."

Chichilia looked helplessly at Weko, who only shrugged. "Very well," she said unwillingly. "But I'm not going to be the one left waiting here at home. I'm going as well. And it's no use you're shaking your finger at me, Weko, because that is my final word." She folded her arms across her chest and glared at her husband. At that moment she looked exactly like her daughter.

"Yes!" Riki exulted. She somewhat ruined the dutiful daughter image she had created earlier by leaping into the air and crashing down on Neil's foot.

## CHAPTER 12: The Rescue

MANDAYALA GULPED DOWN the last of her iced coffee and reached for another fried plantain. "Delicious," she murmured around a mouthful of food. "Your cook has a way with spices."

"Thank you," Chichilia said, motioning for Odjo to refill the visitor's glass. Neil silently applauded her self-restraint; Mandayala had shown up just as the family had sat down to plan a way back to the other side of the Tiriumbutora mountains.

Weko had found some detailed maps, and the brothers had prepared to take notes for the expedition. Just as they had unrolled the first draft, Mandayala had waddled up, wearing a long robe and huge turban of virulent yellow. At the sight of her, Weko, Jirili and Kakujife had grabbed the documents and quickly disappeared, leaving Chichilia, Riki, and Neil to entertain the unwanted visitor.

"What are you going to wear to the festival, my sweet?" Mandayala reached for another plantain.

Chichilia looked up, met Neil's eyes, and asked, "What festival?"

"You haven't heard?" Mandayala was delighted that she knew something Chichilia didn't. "My dear! Atol has called for a night of celebration. It is the eve of some new business venture, or some such thing, and he is inviting everyone to the Palace. He says it will bring great riches to the island. But, I am so surprised that Weko hasn't told you! Doesn't he tell you anything anymore?" Her eyes, behind folds of flesh, glittered avidly.

Chichilia yawned slightly and said, "Weko talks to me as much as he ever did. We have just been busy with some family business lately."

"Really!" Mandayala sat forward, delighted. "Does it have anything to do with Riki?"

Riki, who sat in a huge chair in one corner of the veranda wrestling with a needle and embroidery silks, looked up at the mention of her name. A demand to know what they were talking about hovered on the tip of her tongue – Neil could just see it – and she swallowed and looked down meekly at the hated embroidery.

"Not at all," Chichilia said, motioning towards her daughter's chair with a smooth wave. "As you can see, Riki is busy, making a cushion for the temple."

"Aha," Mandayala said, sitting back in a disappointed manner. Take that, you fat, gossiping old cow, Neil thought. "Well, still, I am very surprised that you haven't planned your dress. I'm going to wear green and gold with matching earrings." Neil hid a grin and thought, Yes, and you'll look just like a bloated caterpillar.

"I'm sure I'll find something to wear. If it is a solemn festival, surely black or a dark blue would be more appropriate than green?" Chichilia, who always appeared so serene and polished, actually seemed to have lost her temper with the unwanted guest.

Mandayala made a moue and darted her finger between a dish of dried pineapples and dates stuffed with fried pork, trying to decide which to eat next. "I like to be colorful. You'll probably wear that maroon caftan of yours again, the one that everyone liked at the last party at the palace." She speared one final bite into her mouth and got up from her seat heavily.

"Must you go so soon? Certain I can't persuade you to stay? No? Very well, goodbye, Mandayala. Give my regards to your husband." After hustling her to the door, Chichilia folded her arms and watched the woman leave. Turning back to Neil and Riki, she snorted, "Maroon caftan, indeed! As if I ever owned such a thing!"

"She's a heifer," Riki said and clapped one hand over her mouth. She looked guiltily at her mother.

"You're right, Riki. That's exactly what she is, a heifer." Riki's eyes met Neil's and they raised their eyebrows in mutual surprise that her mother had said such a thing.

"Still," Chichilia continued, "I wonder when this festival is going to be held. Maybe we could use it to our advantage? Atol would probably want to have most of his guards in the Palace that night, and perhaps he would relax his watch. I wonder what Weko would make of it?" She headed for the door to the house.

"But we need to rescue Mana as soon as possible!" Neil said in a low voice. He had been hoping to leave that night.

Chichilia, with one hand on the door, faced him and said, "I know how you feel, Neil. Still, we must proceed with the utmost of caution. Atol is an extremely dangerous man to cross." Opening the door, she stepped into the house and called for Weko.

"She stopped calling you Mister Neil, did you notice?" Riki said. "That means she thinks that you're one of us now."

"Good," Neil said. "Still, I want to go and rescue Mana as soon as we can. I can't stop thinking of her, and I wonder all the time what it's like to hang in midair in that frightful cage, freezing and hungry. In fact," he added in a lower tone, "I have dreams about it."

Riki put down her sewing and coming over to him, wound one arm around his waist, and gave him a squeeze that nearly crushed his ribs. "I know how you feel," she said. "Still, you have to be patient. Isn't that what you always say to me?"

Feeling somewhat better, Neil nodded.

Later, when they gathered at the dining room table, Weko spread out the huge map of the island again and leaned over it, tracing the coastline with one forefinger. "Hmmm," he said to himself. Neil, who sat as quietly as possible, nearly screamed with frustration.

Jirili leaned over the back of his father's chair and pointed to another spot on the map. "Maybe here?" he suggested.

"What are you talking about?" Neil managed to croak.

"We're just trying to – we're looking for –" Weko's voice died out as he poured over the map again. Isn't that just like a grown-up, Neil thought, and his fingers curled into his palms. You tell them about your own project because you need their help, and they take over the whole thing. Across the table, Riki winked at him in a sympathetic manner.

"What of this festival that Atol has proposed?" Chichilia came in with a huge plate of fruit and biscuits. Riki, instead of grabbing the plate and eating all the best bits, actually took it from her mother and passed it to one of her brothers.

"It's in about a week's time. You were thinking we could use that to our advantage?"

"The thought had crossed my mind, yes." Chichilia smiled back at Weko with complete comprehension. "I thought that the Palace would be too busy with the preparations to notice our little expedition."

"I can't leave Mana there for that long!" Neil said. "I'm sorry, but you haven't seen that cage swinging in the high wind. I'd be sick in about five minutes, and she's been there for days and days now."

Weko nodded. "Perhaps you are right, although it would be convenient to go the night of the party. Still, convenience is not always the best option."

"Well, thank goodness for that!" Neil leaned forward and took a slice of papaya from the dish. "Can we go tonight?"

Weko glanced out of the window. "Mmmm. It's afternoon now. What do you think, Jirili? Kakujife?"

"Best not to rush things," Jirili said.

"Although we should rescue her as quickly as possible," his brother objected.

"True, but we need to have a secure, organized plan."

"Well, there are several hours until nightfall," Weko said. "No moon again tonight, which is in our favor. Which way did you say you took to return home, Riki?"

Riki pointed on the map to the ring of rocks that bordered the island south of the Tiriumbutora. "There. The path goes from our house to the Palace, but it branches off just here. If you keep heading east, eventually you reach a space between the rocks."

Weko nodded. "And there is a flight of crude steps up the cliff, you say?"

"Yes."

"Right," the man answered, standing up decisively. "Jirili, you and Kakujife get supplies together. Riki, tell Odjo to prepare some food and drink. Chichilia, get some rubber-soled shoes for everyone, including Neil here. Neil, help my sons pack up the supplies and help Odjo with the food. I'll prepare the house so it will look as though we are still here tonight after we leave."

After a moment of hesitation, everyone stood up and moved off, heading in different directions. Neil, following the two tall brothers, reflected that Weko, once he started moving, was very good at giving directions. No wonder he had done so well for himself in the bolemor exporting business.

That night, a line of black figures moved slowly up the rocky coast. All of them were dressed in dark clothes, so it was difficult to see them if you didn't know they were there. The path from their house had taken them right to the eastern shore, just as Riki had said, and now they were negotiating their way through the large, sharp stones that lined the island on that side. Good thing that my boat didn't land here, Neil reflected as he followed Kakujife's large back, or I would have been dashed to pieces on those rocks.

It was much easier going this way; it was also better when there were other people to carry supplies and point out possible pitfalls. Neil nearly plunged into a deep puddle of thick, bubbling mud at the start, and he would have been soaked had not Jirili grabbed his arm and pulled him to safety in time. Further down the path, Odjo lost his balance and sat heavily in dark, warm water. Still, besides a show of temper, no one was any the worse for these minor incidents, and after what seemed like a very short time indeed they arrived at the stone steps.

"Jirili and Kakujife, Odjo - come with me," Weko whispered. "Everyone else stay here."

"Papi!" Riki protested. "Neil and I can come up and keep watch in the tunnel for you!"

"Not you," Weko said in a tone that broached no argument. "Neil, you may come if you don't mind facing a guard in the tunnel."

"But Papi," Riki said. She looked up at Chichilia, who had resignedly settled on the flat rock that Neil had fallen on before. "Why can't I come? Because I'm a girl? That's just silly."

"I must say, sir," Neil said, "Riki's a lot of good on an expedition. She saved my skin a few times when we came here before."

"When you left my house without permission and trespassed on our island, you mean," Weko said. He considered, and said, "I may regret it, but very well. Riki, you come too. My dear, you will watch the coast for us?"

"Certainly." Chichilia crossed her ankles and leaned back composedly. She looked as though she were going to read a novel, or have some tea. "Do take care, my dear."

Weko winked at her, and they began the long climb up the stairs. Ascending wasn't as bad as climbing down those frightful, rudimentary steps, and after a few minutes, Neil could see the outline of the cage, hanging from its stout iron chain. He touched Jirili's arm and pointed, and the brother looked and nodded.

Neil could just make out a dark shape huddled at the bottom of the cage. It was so motionless that his heart stopped for a moment. Mana couldn't be dead, could she? No, she must just be sleeping. That was all. That had to be it.

"Mana! Miss Postulate!" he hissed, but the figure didn't move. After a moment of hesitation, Neil continued the climb. There was nothing he could do for her on that crumbling step.

They reached the stone platform at the top of the climb at last, and Riki and Neil squeezed back into the tunnel. There was just room for the Weko, his two sons, and Odjo on the top of the cliff. Weko got down on one knee and whispered, "Miss Postulate! Princess!"

There was no response. Weko tried again, but there was only silence. He got up, dusted off his knees, and said in Lampalan, "We'll have to risk it anyway. Jirili, you and Kakujife lie down here on the ledge and try to pull that chain outwards. Odjo and I will help once you get some slack onto the rock. And be careful, everyone, we don't want to go over that cliff."

From the tunnel, Neil could just see the straining backs of the two sons as they lay down and began to pull. The brothers exhorted each other with terse comments: "It's beginning to move – I say, watch that chain, it'll have your finger off – it's slipping – watch out, Jife! That's torn it!"

The chain dropped with a clank, and patiently the two began again. Riki hopped up and down with excited agony and gnawed on one nail. Neil chewed the inside of his lip. Please, he thought, looking out from the tunnel up at the stars. Please let them be able to rescue her. Please. I can't do anything else to help her, but if there is anyone out there, please.

The brothers bent over the rock and hauled at the chain. Neil suddenly had a horrifying vision of the cage slipping out of their hands and pulling them both over the edge of the rock. "Stop!" he shouted.

Weko looked at him in astonishment. "What is it, Mr. Neil?" he asked.

"I just don't want to put your sons in danger," Neil muttered.

Jirili suddenly yelled, "That's it!" He and Kakujife hauled up a loop of the huge chain, their muscles bulging and straining, and Odjo and Weko instantly seized the links and began to haul. Slowly the great coil of metal clinked onto the precipice until a pile of the stuff lay on the flat stone.

"How strong do you think that ledge is?" Riki muttered, her eyes glued to the scene.

"Don't even think about that," Neil warned. After a minute, he felt a skinny hand slide inside his own, and he gratefully clasped back. It was somewhat of a comfort to feel her small, wizened claw.

"There's the cage!" Weko said. The men groaned and pulled, their faces growing purple with the effort. There was a bump as the top of the cage hit the underside of the jutting rock.

"Now!" Weko grunted, purple in the face with effort. The men groaned as they pulled, but suddenly there was a sigh as the chain slipped.

"Stand back!" Jirili yelled. They dropped the chain and flung themselves back against the rock as the chain slid with ominous rapidity over the rock and crashed down on the underside. From far away, Neil thought he heard an ominous flop, as if an inert body had landed on an unyielding floor.

"Mana?" Neil called. There was still no answer from below.

"Sorry, Neil," Weko panted. "I could tell the chain was going to go. We just can't get the cage up over the lip of the rock."

"Father, what if I climbed down the chain and got the princess out that way?" Kakujife asked.

Jirili, instead of automatically agreeing with his brother, frowned. "That would be most dangerous," he said. "You could slip on the chain, or the cage could fall. We don't know if the link that attaches it to this rock is strong enough to bear your weight. And you must bear in mind that is must also carry the cage and the princess."

"We have to try something," Kakujife said.

"And," Weko added, "How do we know that you can even get inside the cage once you reach her?"

"Father, we have to try," Kakujife said. "Jiri, you lie down and keep an eye on that link in the rock. Yell if you see it starting to move and I'll nip up at once."

"Bravo, Jife!" Riki shouted. Neil nodded; he felt that his heart was too full to say anything. The bravery of Riki's brother, whom he had often mocked as a nodding shadow of his father, was unbelievable.

Kakujife grinned and crawled to the edge of the rock. He looked down and shouted back, "I can reach the chain! This just might work!" His arms reached down, and his body slid off the ledge where they all were standing.

Neil squeezed his eyes shut and began his inward chant again. Please, he thought, please let Kakujife come back safe. Please don't let me be responsible for his life. I just couldn't bear it. Beside him, he could hear Riki murmuring something as well, and she gripped his hand tighter.

A few tense minutes followed. Neil could hear Kakujife's grunts grow harder to hear as the man descended. Weko lay down on the rock beside Jirili and watched the progress.

"He's reached the cage," he said. "Neil! Riki! Better get back off the ledge, in case something happens. You too, Odjo," he added, looking up at the cook's girth.

Riki and Neil hopped back into the tunnel, and after a moment, Odjo squeezed in next to him. "Father, what's happening?" Riki danced up and down with frustration.

"That bloody cage is nailed shut," Weko said. "He can't get in. Odjo, hand me that knife, would you?" He seized the long instrument and called down to his son. "Jife! I'm dropping a knife – make sure you catch it!" There was a short pause, and he said with satisfaction, "Excellent. Nice catch! Wait \- Damn it! They used bolemor! He'll never hack through that!" He shouted again, "Jife! Use the knife on the nails! Get them out of the wood!"

A few more minutes of tense waiting followed. Riki stopped her dance and stood still. "Oh, I just can't bear it," she moaned. Neil disengaged his hand from her grip and put his arm around her. She turned to him and buried her face in his chest. Odjo looked surprised, and he gave Neil a big smile and two thumbs up. Neil rolled his eyes, but he couldn't help grinning back.

"Hang on. Here he comes," Jirili said. "And, by Jove, he's got the princess!"

"How can he climb with her on his shoulder?" Neil blurted out. Riki moaned again and hugged him tighter, but Odjo grunted. "Master Kakujife is very, very strong," he said.

Weko and Jirili suddenly bent down over the lip of the rock ledge. Their back muscles strained as they pulled Mana's limp body over the edge. Kakujife pulled himself up, sweating profusely, but with a huge smile on his face.

Weko started forward. "Fantastic job!" he began, but Neil stopped him.

"Weko!" he screamed. "The ledge! It's starting to crack!"

Indeed, there were ominous sounds coming from the rock as a long crack appeared right at the edge of where it entered the tunnel. Jirili, Kakujife and Weko, who was bearing the body of Princess Manapalata, jumped forward into the tunnel. Odjo, Riki and Neil scrambled backwards to give the huge men room.

At that moment, the stone crumbled and disappeared. A few seconds later, there was a huge crash as the cage, the chain and the huge rock they had hung from for so long crashed onto the shore below.

"Mami!" Riki gasped.

"Chichilia!" Weko said at the same time. He peered out of the cave, and he sighed with relief. "She is fine," he said. "Your mother stepped well out of the way once she saw Jife starting his descent."

Jirili looked out over the shoreline. He raised his fist and shouted at the ocean, "Dastards! Who would dare to treat a woman in such a way!"

"Oh, well said, Jife!" Riki said, from the shelter of Neil's arm. "I never knew you had it in you!"

Neil realized that he was still hugging her. He quickly let her go. "How about the Princess? Is she all right?" he asked

"She is alive, but just barely," Weko said. "Jirili, stop that. Let's get out away from this hell-hole and get her back to the house." He stepped off the lip of the cave and onto the precarious steps, and Jirili followed. Neil and Riki came next, Riki looking uncharacteristically solemn. Jife climbed slowly, still winded from the rescue. Last in line, the huge figure of Odjo carefully negotiated the steps, carrying the sleeping figure of Princess Manapalata carefully in his arms.

## CHAPTER 13: Hiding the Prisoner

BY TACIT CONSENT, the family as well as Neil followed Odjo to another of the rooms on the second floor. The huge man chose one of the smaller bedrooms that faced the back of the house, since it was less conspicuous and did not face the huge front garden or the sea.

Odjo put Mana on a small bed, moving her as tenderly as he had with his own daughter. She never moved, and the whites of her eyes showed beneath her lids in an unsettling way.

"Is she really alive?" Riki whispered.

"Of course she is!" Neil snapped. "Look, she's breathing, isn't she?"

"She must not have eaten since you brought her food," Weko said.

Chichilia knelt by the bed and took one of Mana's hands in both of her own. "Even though the princess is sleeping," she breathed, "there's something overwhelming about her. I can feel it."

"She really is royalty?" Neil asked.

"She is not a princess anymore," Weko reminded his wife. "Now she is a queen."

Jirili snorted. "It has nothing to do with her family or her background. She's just beautiful!"

Kakujife laughed and poked his brother. "In love already, Jiri? It usually takes you a few more hours than this!"

Jirili moved away, smiling broadly. "Do strive to be less of an idiot, Jife. You won't stand out as much that way."

Neil stared at the brothers, his mouth open. He had never heard them laugh or make jokes at each other's expense.

Mana moved and whispered something, and he forgot all about them. "Is she saying something?"

"No," Chichilia replied, "Although it's a good sign. That means she is close to consciousness, and not lost to us in the lands of dreams. Which means, Neil, that yes, she's going to recover."

"Thank heavens," Neil said. There was something about Mana all right, if she could make those two brothers laugh and their mother wax poetic all of a sudden.

Odjo, who had shimmered out of the room once he had laid Mana on the couch, returned with the usual tray of delicious-smelling food. He said something in a low voice to Chichilia, who nodded and replied, "Edo. Vadugo. All right, everyone," she ordered, turning to her sons and making a shooing motion with both hands, "all of you out while we try to give her some broth. She looks like she's been half-starved." Jirili and Kakujife moved reluctantly to the door, followed by Weko. "You too, Riki and Neil," Chichilia added.

"What!" Riki was outraged. "We found her. We should be able to stay. We helped to nurse Tache, remember?"

"No, you didn't." Neil manipulated her to the door. "Besides, we can keep out a watch for guards. There'll be a huge search, won't there, Weko?" He addressed this to the large man once they had left the room in a lower voice.

Weko pondered and nodded. "You are completely right. I had almost forgotten that in our first flush of success. I had better get my wits about me; today will certainly be a long day."

Neil stifled a yawn. "Where can we keep watch, do you think?"

Riki forgot all about nursing Mana instantly and turned to him with a light in her eye. "Maybe up in one of the trees? Naah, they'll see us there. On the roof?"

"How about from your rooms," Jirili suggested with one eye on Neil. "You both need to get some sleep."

"How dull!" Riki exploded. She caught her father's eye, remembered her promise to be good, and nodded. "Oh, very well," she groaned. "But who's going to watch for the guards while we nap?"

"Jirili and I will," Kakujife said. "We are used to going for long periods without sleep when we are working on Mixiamani."

Riki rubbed her eyes suddenly, and Neil felt the desire to sleep descend on him like a huge, heavy blanket. "Very well," she mumbled, and they headed for their rooms.

Neil grabbed the bars of the cage and felt the wind blow it back and forth. The storm seemed to work itself into a fury, and its force smashed the wooden box into the heavy rocks of the cliff behind him. All he could do was to hang on in fright and hope that the chain didn't break – and at that moment, another huge gust smashed at his prison. With an awful metallic, grinding noise, the heavy cable broke and the cage plunged downwards to the spiked fangs of stone waiting below.

With a huge jerk, Neil awoke suddenly and sat up. He was in the round bed in his sumptuous room, the sheets twisted around his legs. Despite the cool tiled floor and the darkened shutters, the heat was fierce.

Neil sat and panted for a moment, waiting for his heart rate to return to normal. He quickly got out of bed, splashed himself with tepid water, and dressed.

He went looking for Riki's brothers, and found Jirili in a small sitting room in the middle of the house, lounging in a long settee. His pose was negligent, but something about his tensed, powerful shoulders gave the impression that he would spring into action if necessary.

"Anything?" Neil asked, crossing to the window and looking out. The view afforded by the large window showed the entire front garden and the path that wound down to the beach and back towards Three-Finger Rock and the village.

Jirili widened his eyes as if trying to force them to stay open and replied, "Nothing."

"Look, why don't you rest for a bit?" Neil asked. "I'll keep watch here, and Riki can take the back room as a look-out when she wakes up."

"She's already there," Jirili grunted.

Neil dragged the corners of his mouth down. "Is she really? Oops, I didn't mean to sleep so long. Go on, Jirili, go and sleep for a bit. You won't do us any good if you're exhausted."

Jirili nodded slightly as if acknowledging the truth of this, and got up, stretching his arms over his head. "There's some fruit and cheese on that table there." He put his hand on Neil's shoulder for one moment before leaving the room.

Well, how about that, Neil mused. Feeling the pangs of hunger, he went to a large gold platter on a low table in one corner and selected some small sandwiches. He ate quickly, and, feeling much better, sat down on the edge of the long settee. Nothing moved outside; it was as if he were looking at a painting entitled, 'Island Scene Before a Storm'. Dark clouds bunched ominously in the east, and they hunched over the ocean like a group of hungry tigers.

Despite the dark weather and the increasing heat, Neil felt incredibly cheerful. He had accomplished something that he had set out to do, and his flight wasn't a terrible waste after all. He found himself humming a verse of a song about a big haul of fish, a song that his mother used to sing to him before he went to sleep.

Now that he had a moment, he reflected on how strange it was that he had seen Mana's cage in his dreams and had known where to go to look for her. Another of her mind tricks, he supposed.

And now what? The next step was almost too huge to contemplate – that of deposing Atol and making her the queen of Lampala. Once that happened, they would have all the resources they would need in order to find Simon and Miriam, and to end the terrible drug trade between Lampala and the Company on the mainland.

"Jirili!" Riki shouted, coming into the room. "Oh, Neil, it's you. Neil, there are guards coming from the Palace – I just saw them head into Mandayala's house!"

Neil sprang up and grabbed her arm. "Come on," he said, "we've got to tell Weko." He pounded down the hall, shouting for Weko and Chichilia.

A door opened quickly, and Weko peered at Neil. "What is all the noise for?" he asked, frowning.

"The guards are next door!" Riki interrupted. "They must have found that Mana and the cage are gone."

Chichilia appeared in one of her gorgeous robes, blinking sleep out of her eyes. She put one hand over her heart and asked, "What are we going to do, Weko?"

"If only we had been able to take her somewhere else," he mused. "No time for that now. We'll have to hide her somehow."

"In the gallery downstairs?" Chichilia suggested. "No, they'd find her right away. In one of the smaller bedrooms? Oh dear, what are we going to do? We are so unprepared! I must say I didn't expect them so -"

"Hurry!" Riki shouted. "They'll be here any minute!"

"How about in the little hut where Tache was?" Neil asked. "Mandayala knew that you were taking care of Odjo's daughter, no? Why couldn't you say that Mana is Tache?"

"Mandayala knows everything about everyone," Chichilia said. "Yes, you're right, Neil, it could work. But what will we do with Tache herself?"

"We'll just have to get her up and dress her as a maid." Weko answered. "Prop her in one corner, stirring a pot or some such thing, and no one will notice her. Yes, I think that is the best answer. Riki, wake Jirili and Kakujife. Have them carry Mana downstairs. My dear, tell Odjo to wake his daughter and dress her in something inconspicuous, and put her to work in a dark corner of the kitchen."

"And what about me and Neil?" Riki demanded.

Weko smiled and patted her cheek. "You two will have the important job of pretending to be normal – playing a game, or feeding the parrot, or some such. Now, let's go."

Chichilia and Weko hurried past them, and Riki put her hands on her hips, outraged. "Isn't that typical?" she said. "You come up with the idea, and they steal all the best bits. Bwah!"

"Bwah," Neil agreed, thinking that the word exactly fitted the situation. "Still, let's do what we can. We can't lose now that we've come this far."

Riki nodded, and darted off to her brothers' rooms.

A short time later, Riki and Neil sat in the front veranda, poking crusts of yesterday's rolls at an unenthusiastic parrot. Perhaps the bird sensed the oncoming storm, as it turned its back on Riki and began to nibble under one wing. Giving it up, Riki threw the bread into the cage, sat back, and folded her arms. "That bird will ignore us and go to sleep now," she complained.

"He probably wants to be moved inside the house since the rain is coming," Neil said.

"Rain! What are you talking about? It's not going to rain."

Neil stared at her for a moment and gestured to the black sky with one out flung arm. "What do you think those are up in the sky, flying fish? Those, my dear girl, are rain clouds."

"They are not. What do you know of it anyway? You don't come from around here."

Neil stood up and pointed one finger in her face. "It doesn't matter where I come from, you idiot! My father was a sailor and a fisherman, and I know a rain cloud when I see one."

"Why'd you get caught in that storm and end up on the island, then, if you're so clever?" Riki drawled.

Maddened, he grasped both her arms and pulled her onto her feet. "I got caught in that storm because I wanted to save my friends and didn't pay attention to the weather! What do you know of it, anyway? You don't know me – the real me, anyway! Not in the least little bit!"

Riki looked up at him for a moment and whispered, "Yes, I do."

He stared back at her with his mouth open. They stayed frozen like that for a moment.

A sudden shout from the front garden brought him to his senses. Neil looked up and saw a line of five or six guards, headed by a large fellow he had never seen before. It was not Kyoge, who, despite his huge knife, at least had seemed to be somewhat humane. This guard looked much nastier. His lips split in an unpleasant grin as he marched up to Riki and Neil.

"Ipa!" He pointed at Riki. A volley of Lampalan followed, as the guard pointed at the front door, obviously demanding to enter. Riki merely stood aside and motioned the troop in. As they passed, the leader stopped and smiled at her. Saying something in a low, oily voice, he put out one hand and caressed Riki's shoulder. Neil felt hot anger spurt inside him suddenly. How dare he? How dare that man touch her?

The men disappeared inside, and Riki and Neil were left alone. "What did he say to you?" Neil felt he would choke with rage.

Riki turned away. "Oh, nothing. Machi is just an idiot."

"Machi? You know his name?"

"It's a small island," Riki said. "Come on, don't get all overheated and huffy."

Neil frowned and walked over to the parrot's cage and back again. "Do you think they hid her in time?" He tried to peer into the dark hallway.

"Well, how should I know?"

"I just wanted to know what you think, if you don't mind," Neil said to her through his teeth. A sudden gust of wind blew the crusts of bread off the saucer by the parrot, and large raindrops pattered into the fishpond. Immediately, it began to rain in earnest. The water descended from the sky as if it had been poured out of a jug. The parrot awoke with a screech as a bolt of lightning momentarily lit the garden, followed by a loud shout of thunder.

"See? Rain, just like I said," Neil pointed out.

"Aren't you clever. Ipa, we'd better get that bird inside," Riki said. She went to pick up the huge cage, but Neil stopped her.

"Here, let me," he said. "That cage is enormous. You get the door."

Riki wrenched at the door handle as the wind increased. "Hurry!" she said.

They scuttled into the hall, where they were met by the same troop of guards and Riki's parents. Machi, if that was the fellow's name, barked something to the other guards and they all trooped upstairs.

Weko followed them, and Chichilia went and put her arms around Riki. "Shhh," she said pointing to the second floor, which rang with loud footsteps as the guards tramped into the various rooms upstairs. There were thumps as doors were flung open, followed by the crashes of furniture overturning.

Neil tried to signal to Chichilia with his eyebrows, to ask if the men had found Mana. He gestured towards the kitchen and the back garden, and she shook her head slightly.

The lightning illuminated the hall, and one of the men upstairs shouted something. Machi shouted back, and the other guards all began yelling at once.

Riki put one hand over her mouth. "They're arguing," she whispered to Neil. "They say there's nothing here, and they want to go home before the road is flooded."

They all looked at each other, hope dawning in their eyes. A moment later, the group of guards pounded back downstairs, still followed by a silent Weko.

Machi pointed and shouted, "Lunewe!" and headed for the door. As he passed Riki, he reached for her, but she shrank towards her mother. The guard laughed in his oily way and motioned for the others to leave.

As their footsteps died away, Chichilia sank onto the bottom step. "Did we really do it?" she asked Weko.

"They found nothing." He plopped down beside her.

"What a bunch of complete goons," Riki remarked.

"That guard had better not come near you again," Neil muttered, and he bunched his hands into fists.

## CHAPTER 14: The Temple

THE RAIN CONTINUED through the night. It drummed down on the roof so loudly that Neil, who was getting used to going to bed at odd hours, couldn't sleep. As well, he was worried about Mana, who still lay outside in the little shack, since Weko thought that it was safest. Neil had to agree. A troop of soldiers or guards could return at any time; still, he wished that she were safely inside with them in the big house.

Chichilia herself had gone to the small hut where the new queen lay sleeping. She brought silk eiderdowns, cushions, fans and a pair of old curtains to pin up over the rudimentary window. When she returned, she reported that Queen Mana was still not awake, although she appeared to be more comfortable.

"We're a house full of sleepers," Riki grumbled, as she was pushed up the stairs to bed. "First Tache, and now Mana, and now me and Neil. I'm not even sleepy, anyway."

Neil agreed, and after he washed and got into bed, he lay with his arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling and listening to the rain. It drove against the wooden shutters in torrents and ran down the side of the house, drowning out the sounds of Weko and Chichilia talking to their sons.

He must have drowsed; outside, the rain had stopped. He opened his eyes and realized what had woken him. There was another small tap at his door.

Neil jumped out of bed and padded over to the door in his bare feet. "Is that you?" he hissed.

The door opened and Riki slithered in. "You weren't asleep, were you?" she asked.

"No. Maybe. Did it stop raining?"

"Dunno. I suppose. Come on, get dressed and we will go and check on Mana," Riki ordered.

"Suppose the guards are watching our house?" Neil argued, although he really wanted to go.

"We'll go undercover. See, I put my black dressing gown on. Hurry up!"

Neil gave in. "Very well,' he said, "but turn around while I dress."

Riki snorted. "Shy?"

"It's just not seemly," Neil said with as much dignity as he could muster. "In fact, get out while I change. Go on, get out!"

Stifling a gale of laughter, Riki left the room. Neil hurriedly pulled off his pajamas and got into some dark clothes that he found in a chest, half expecting Riki to open the door before he could put on his pants. She stayed outside however, and in a minute he joined her in the hall.

She gripped his hand and they tiptoed downstairs, avoiding the entrance to the small sitting room where Jirili or Kakujife, presumably, still sat watch. A thin line of light under the door showed that one of the brothers monitored the house, but they managed to get downstairs undetected.

Once they were in the kitchen, Riki began to snort again. "Most unseemly!" She pointed at Neil's trousers.

"Oh, stow it, would you?" he said wearily. He opened the back door, hoping that it wouldn't creak and wake up Odjo, who slept downstairs next to his beloved kitchen. The hinges moved smoothly, however, and they glided outside.

Riki prodded him to move forward. They crept between the dripping flowers and vines that grew in ordered confusion in the kitchen garden, towards the small tin shed.

The hut was tightly closed against the rain. At the last moment, Riki got shy and hung back, poking Neil and motioning for him to enter first. He rolled his eyes and pulled the door open, preparing to step inside, and gasped.

A dark figure was bent over Mana, holding a shuttered lantern that cast long shadows around the hut. "Hey!" Neil said, springing forward, ready to attack if necessary.

The figure shrank back, and he saw that it was the girl Tache and not a murdering guard from the palace. Mana's eyes were open, and she said in her best governess voice, "Pipe down at once, Neil, and come inside. You too, Riki, and close the door after you."

Neil did as he was told and entered, closely followed by Riki. For a wonder she was silent, her eyes wide open.

Mana said something in a low voice to Tache, who sat down and put the lantern on the floor. "I've just been talking to this girl, who explained to me what happened to her. It was just as I had suspected."

He approached the low bed and squatted beside her. "She drank some nasty stuff, I think. A medicine, but something to make you feel worse instead of better."

Mana smiled. "Exactly," she said in the tone of a teacher who praised a bright pupil. "It's the substance that was put in your coffee, back in Miriam's house."

"What are you talking about?" Riki had forgotten to be nervous. She squatted beside Neil and clasped her arms around her knees.

"Actually, I'm not sure," Neil said. "Can you explain, Mana?"

"I think you know more than you realize," she said.

"Does the medicine – drug – whatever it is – come from the bolemor trees?" Neil asked.

"Exactly," Mana repeated. "As Tache here has found, it is highly addictive, but at first it produces a very pleasurable effect."

"Like opium," Neil said.

"Yes, except it is even more insidious than that foul poison."

"What is Atol trying to do? Is he trying to make it less addictive so they can sell it on the mainland?" Neil asked.

"Perhaps. Probably by experimenting on people from Lampala like Tache," Mana said. "From what she told me, she was deliberately given the liquid to see the effects of it, and to measure those effects."

Riki made a harsh sound of disgust. "Yurgh! It's like they think we are rats, or mice, or something." She turned suddenly to Neil and pierced him with a look. "These are the same people who have taken your friends?"

He took a deep breath, and nodded.

"They have Simon and Miriam?" Mana said. He nodded. "I am especially worried about her, as she retains the rights to the Company as her father's only heir."

"So Simon's parents are the ones who did all this!" Neil sat bolt upright. "We're going to have to have them arrested!"

"Perhaps, although I think there are worse villains than the Marchpanes to worry about," Mana replied.

"Oh. I suppose you mean the Cantwells."

"Wait! Who are the Cantwells?" Riki cried.

"Shhh," Mana cautioned her.

It was too late. The door opened, causing Riki to emit a little shriek, and Chichilia came in and put her hands on her hips. "Just as I thought," she said. "I had a feeling you two would come down here, without permission, and jeopardizing the entire household, by the way."

"Sorry," Neil mumbled. He scrambled to his feet

"Chichilia, I understand your concern," Mana said with a tired smile. "However, I must defend Neil, who just wanted to discover some answers about the mystery that he is involved in, through no fault of his own." Neil nodded in agreement, trying to look as innocent as possible.

"Well, that's as it may be." Chichilia frowned and wagged one finger back and forth. "However, he and my daughter must go back to bed, now."

Riki stared for a moment, perhaps not recognizing this new, powerful version of her mother. She scuttled out of the hut back to the house. Neil quickly said good-night to Mana and followed Riki's example.

At some point during the night, the rains started up again. Coming down to breakfast, Neil saw huge gusts that blew long needles of water from the sea towards the house, backed up by a mass of heavy, gray clouds.

Riki was already in the dining room, squinting into an old, used copy-book. When he entered the room, she looked up and brightened. "It's about time," she said. "Look, I'm writing out some plans to get your friends out of the Cantwells' clutches." She thumbed back through several pages of her notes and found her place. "Here's where we'll write down all we know, and on this page we'll put what we need to know, and this will be a list of items that we need to get hold of, and –"

"You'll do no such thing." Chichilia entered the room with a heavy mass of material in a linen bag. "I want you to come to the temple with me today to deliver my embroidery. I just finished it last night. I suppose yours isn't ready yet?"

Riki gasped in shock. "Chichilia! The temple? Of all the dull, boring, idiotic places..."

"You too, Neil," Chichilia said, sitting down. "Have you had breakfast yet? You, Riki? Go on, eat something, and then we'll go."

"Me?" Neil said.

"But it's lashing down rain!" Riki said.

"Yes, you," Chichilia said. "And there is such an invention as an umbrella, and boots as well, Riki. No, I'll have no arguments; my mind is made up. Eat up at once and get ready."

Riki and Neil stared at each other in disbelief. Reluctantly, he picked up a roll topped with honey and crunchy nuts and bit into it, sunk in gloom.

The temple was in the direction of Three-Fingered Rock, further inland. Neil hadn't visited this part of Lampala yet, and while he was interested enough in the various groups of houses (brightly-colored, but now dripping in the rain) and the small shops built right into the side of one of the hills, he was dying to go back and talk to Mana some more. He would even have preferred writing out some plans in that ridiculous little notebook.

He could sense that Riki felt the same way by the manner in which she plodded after Chichilia with her head down. After a minute, he caught up with her and asked, "What is this temple we're going to see?"

Riki answered listlessly, "Oh, it's where we keep the records of our families and the history of Lampala and Mixiamani, and things like that." She took a deep breath and let it out in a gusty sigh.

He nodded, feeling sympathetic. It sounded deadly dull, although he was duty-bound to act civilized in front of Chichilia. "Anything special we need to do, or say, or anything?" he asked.

"Naah. Just the usual – sit still, don't talk or laugh, don't fall asleep, no humming or whistling –" Riki reeled off. She had probably heard the catalogue of forbidden sins many times before from her parents. "Chichilia used to work here as a temple maiden before she and Weko were married."

"Oh, come on," Neil said. "You're joking. They actually have temple maidens?"

Riki grinned. "And incense, and drums, and reflecting pools."

Neil began to guffaw slightly. He couldn't help it; he felt a silly mood coming on, even though he was going into a sacred place.

Riki's grin widened and she nudged him. "Bet I can make you laugh first," she whispered.

"Oh, you will lose." Neil crossed his eyes and made one eyeball swivel back and forth. It was the same move he had pulled on Miriam at dinner, about a thousand years ago now.

Riki gave one of her loud snorts, which made Neil begin to laugh helplessly. Chichilia looked back at them, none too pleased, and herded them towards a broad courtyard, surrounded by a low stone wall and shining with rain. "Pipe down, you two," she said. "Go on, in there."

They walked towards the temple, which was a small, squat building. It didn't look at all like a church, or even as nice as the houses in the villages. When they entered, all Neil saw was a dark room lit by a few lamps that hung from the ceiling. "Where are the pools and the mirrors?" he asked.

"Down here." Chichilia headed towards a nearly invisible staircase in one corner.

Riki went behind Neil so she could bang the backs of his knees as he climbed down. "Stow it," he whispered. "You're going to get us in – waah!"

Riki instantly copied his strangled shout. "Waah! Waah, I'm Neil! Waah!"

He felt his body shake with laughter, made all the worse by the knowledge that he had to keep quiet and respectful.

The staircase opened out onto a huge expanse of gleaming marble, illuminated by more of the dim, glowing lamps. In the center was the reflecting pool, a huge basin of black stone with benches surrounding it. Mirrors were set into the walls, making the room appear even larger than it was, and dark corridors branched off in every direction. It would be very easy to get lost, Neil thought, and he stopped laughing. He noticed that some of the hallways were not openings but reflected images created by the huge mirrors.

Chichilia pointed to the pool. "You wait on those benches there, and I'll go and speak to the monks. No putting your feet in the water, Riki!"

"As if I would!" Riki said as soon as Chichilia had disappeared down one of the corridors.

"Oh, you probably would." Neil said.

Riki laughed. "The water's cold, too."

Neil walked around the pool. "What's this for?"

"Oh, you're supposed to look in it, and reflect – get it?"

"I get it," Neil said. "Hence the term, 'Reflecting Pool'... Ha Ha. That's all?"

"Oh, and you can see the future sometimes." Riki scratched one knee in a bored manner.

"What! The future! Really?" He got down on all fours and peered into the dark pool.

"That's what they say. I never saw anything, though."

"You were probably too busy trying to fish or swim in it," Neil said. He stared into the water, but all he saw was Riki's face, obviously struggling with the desire to push him in. He got up quickly and moved out of temptation's way to one of the benches, which was made of highly polished wood. "Sit down, Riki, before Chichilia comes back, and don't even attempt it."

Riki sighed deeply and plopped beside him, her shoulders slumping. "Dull. I can't wait to go back and write up our plans," she said. She leaned her head against Neil's arm.

"Mmm," he agreed. A priest, or lama, or whatever the Lampalans called them, walked past them and bent over a small stone urn set into a pillar some distance from the pool. A match flickered, and Neil smelt the acrid odor of incense. The priest walked away, waving out the match flame, and his footsteps echoed in the underground silence.

Neil looked down at Riki. She appeared to have fallen asleep. His own eyelids felt heavy in the dim room with the scented smoke and muffled echoes.

Something flashed in the pool. From where he sat, he saw something in the water, a white figure that wavered and grew clearer. Trying not to disturb Riki, Neil leaned forward. His heart drummed in his ears. Did he see something? Yes, there was definitely a face in the pool. Was that – Miriam?

Perhaps it was, but she was a different Miriam from the one he knew. She looked thinner, and older, and she sat on a cot in a prison cell. Neil could see the heavy bars over her shoulder.

He tried to edge closer to the vision of the girl. She looked up at him with her dark eyes.

Against his arm, Riki sighed and shifted. The pool wavered, and a long, steady wave drifted across it. The picture on its surface rippled and changed. Now Neil could see a boy in a tiny, dirty room. His face was filled with despair.

"Oh, no. Simon. Is that you? Where are you?" Neil whispered.

"Is Riki taking a nap?" Chichilia reentered the huge chamber. Her voice echoed in the gloom. At its sound, the boy in the pool rippled and disappeared. "Do wake up, darling. We're ready to go, now. How about some cinnamon coffee and iced cakes when we get home?"

Riki stretched and yawned. "The incense put me to sleep," she complained. She got up and walked behind her mother, who was heading back to the dark stairs.

Neil turned and peered into the pool one last time, but there was nothing in its dark depths.

## CHAPTER 15: The Arrest

SLOGGING BACK THROUGH the wet mud didn't improve Neil's mood. He felt as if he had just wasted an entire morning, and the glimpse he had seen of Miriam and Simon had only increased his anxiety, even if it had only been a dream, or a figment of his imagination. Riki appeared to be as depressed as he was; she didn't hum, or whistle, or try to trip him up as they walked back into the garden.

For a moment, he felt oppressively claustrophobic, coming back into the large, beautiful house. After all, who were these people, anyway? Would they stand up for him, or even remember him a few months from now? Suddenly, he wanted to see his old study in Firbury, to sit and do Latin, to translate lines in an atmosphere of vellum, chalk dust, boredom and perfect peace. He would even prefer to be in his tiny, crowded house by the docks with his family; it would be nice to see Lizzie and Ninna, his sisters, as well as Matilda, the baby.

However, he forgot some of his gloom when Odjo met them at the door. The cook wore a broad smile, a snowy apron and held a huge tray filled with plates of rolls, cakes, fruit and fried plantains.

Tache stood behind him, carrying a pitcher full of some hot liquid that smelled wonderful. "Vadugo, Odjo," Chichilia said. "Tache, you look very well! How nice. Unfortunately, we can't sit on the veranda due to the rains, but let's go to the gallery down here."

They trooped into a long room lined with portraits of Jirili, Kakujife, Weko and Chichilia on their wedding day. It was also filled with paintings of octopi, parrots and some scenic views of Mixiamani. Weko was already there, reading a large book with his feet propped up in front of a small fire. He looked up over a pair of spectacles as Chichilia entered, and he put down his book.

"Time for another meal?" he asked. Odjo laughed and put the tray on a sideboard, and he and Tache left.

Riki immediately dashed over to the food and poured a mug full of the steaming liquid. Instead of gulping it down, however, she handed it to Neil, asking, "Would you like some also, Papi?"

Neil peered into the mug; it looked and smelled like thick chocolate, spiced with nutmeg and cinnamon. Weko lifted his cup and said, "Here is to the execution of the first portion of our task! And now, we must plan the second strategy, to get you-know-who back in you-know where."

Chichilia clinked her mug with his and said, "I don't think that will be as difficult as-"

The door to the gallery opened and Mandayala came in, wearing a long coat of turquoise velvet, lined with feathers died the same exotic hue. Odjo stood behind her, waving frantically at them. He quickly put down his arms and disappeared, however, when she looked suspiciously at him.

"Yoo-hoo!" she said, entering the gallery and waggling her fingers (encased in tight gloves) at Weko. "Are you talking about some gossip, Chichilia? Do tell me what it is."

Riki, whose ears had pricked up at the words 'plan' and 'strategy', sighed and collapsed onto a small stool by the fire. Neil hurriedly joined her, out of Mandayala's way. Even Weko retreated, furtively picking up his book and inserting a finger into the pages so he could resume reading.

Chichilia's only reaction to the unwelcome guest was to allow her smile to become a trifle set, but smoothly she moved forward and gestured to a seat. "Won't you sit down, Mandayala? We were just about to have a warm drink and some pastries."

Mandayala hurriedly shed her coat and gloves, draped them over the back of a chair, and eyed the tray on the sideboard avidly. "Your cook has such a way with sweets and spices – ah, little crab cakes and – are these lobster patties with ginger sauce?" She piled some food high on a plate and sat heavily beside Weko, who looked up and closed his book again. "Well, Weko," she said, tapping him on one knee, "are you going to take your family to the festival tonight?"

"The festival is tonight?" Riki blurted.

Mandayala raised one eyebrow at her, popped a roll into her mouth and wiped her mouth with her fingers. "Mmm, delicious. Yes, it is tonight; how odd that no one told you!"

"Weko has been very busy with company business lately." Chichilia sat next to Riki and taking a small sip of chocolate.

"Ah," Mandayala said. "And didn't I hear that your cook's daughter was having fits, or something?"

"Tache was a little indisposed, yes," Chichilia said. Weko looked at her over the tops of his spectacles, glanced at Mandayala, and put his book back up in front of his face. "But she is much better now; in fact, she made that almond cake that you're eating now."

"Really!" Mandayala made a face and put the cake back on the plate. "What are you going to wear tonight? I still can't decide; I just received a new tangerine and black creation that I ordered from the mainland, now that the passage has reopened. Can't you just picture it? Satin and lace, my dear, with a fan-shaped train."

Neil looked at Riki, and thought, she'll look just like a sick peacock. Riki nodded at him in a way that showed she completely understood what he was thinking.

"Oh, I don't know," Chichilia said. "I haven't really thought about it."

"Of course, it doesn't really matter what you wear," Mandayala said. "You have such a lovely figure." She crammed another patty in her mouth and chewed.

"May I get you some more chocolate, Miss Mandayala?" Riki rose up and reached for the steaming pitcher.

Mandayala automatically held out her cup. She looked up and frowned at Riki. "Chichilia! Is this really your daughter? Have you been sending her to finishing lessons?"

"Riki has grown up, Mandayala," Chichilia said. "It happens to some of us."

"Of course," Mandayala replied, slightly annoyed. She took a large sip of chocolate and began to cough. "Oh dear – went down the wrong pipe – how vexatious –"

The door opened again and Odjo came in, not smiling this time. Chichilia turned and wrinkled her forehead. "Ewokya, Odjo?"

He bowed. "Someone to see," he said, straightening and looking at Neil meaningfully. Weko put down his book again and lowered his feet to the floor.

Mandayala, coughing and waving one hand in front of her face, was obviously dying to know who had arrived, even though she could hardly breathe and her face was turning purple. Riki, seizing the opportunity, went behind her and gave her a mighty slap on one shoulder blade, just as someone else pushed past Odjo.

Kyoge, the guard, walked into the room and bowed deeply to Weko. "Begging your pardon, sir," the guard said in Lampalan, "but we must search the hut on your property again."

"What is this about?" Weko asked, getting up. "We were searched already. Is Atol in the habit of inspecting our houses on a daily basis now?"

Mandayala tried to wheeze something and coughed more loudly. Riki gave her another huge whack and flashed Neil a brave, if somewhat watery grin.

"Let us speak the mainland tongue," Chichilia said, waving one hand at Neil. "It is only polite to our guest."

"Oh, I can understand –" Neil began, but Kyoge cut him off.

"As you wish," he replied, speaking with a slight accent but using perfect diction. "And sir, I believe you already know why we must search again. You may have fooled the other guards, but you cannot do so with me."

"I forbid it!" Weko thundered, twitching off his spectacles and throwing them aside. "I may serve under Atol's rule, but by the Maker, we still have rights as citizens of Lampala!"

Riki cheered faintly, and Chichilia quelled her with a look. Mandayala finally cleared the obstruction from her throat and wheezed, "What is going on, Chichilia?" Riki gave her another slap, and she turned and barked at the girl, "I'm fine now! You can stop with the slap and smacks!"

"Mandayala, it looks as though the king is petitioning to search our home. It would be best, perhaps, if you leave," Chichilia said.

"Well!" The woman swept over to the chair where she had tossed her coat, grabbed it and walked out of the room, giving Kyoge a thorough up-and-down inspection as she left. The door banged behind her with such force that it opened again, and they could hear the high heels of her sandals clip-clopping to the front door.

Weko stood up and approached the huge guard. "Forgive me, what is your name? Kyoge, isn't it?" Weko asked. "Please sit down and let us be reasonable. Surely you see that by allowing this thing I am giving up my family's privacy!"

"I must do my job, as you must do yours," Kyoge replied, holding his spear upright.

One arm clasped the top of the long shaft, and his muscles bulged in a way that Neil eyed enviously. The man looked like a magnificent king himself, much more so than the dark, smoke-puffing mountain that had been Atol.

Weko spread his hands in front of him. "I understand your position," he said. "But don't you see that our rights have eroded under Atol's rule, especially in recent months? Please go back to the palace, Kyoge, and tell Atol that I need a day or two to get my affairs in order."

Kyoge stood motionless, and Neil's heart sank. He knew that the man might agree with Weko in his heart, but he would never allow anything to interfere with doing his duty.

"It's too late for that," someone said softly in the doorway. Kyoge turned and motioned with one hand, and two more guards entered, holding Mana between them. "Kyoge is just doing his job," she said, "as you have done yours, Weko. I just pray that you do not get punished too severely over it."

"Princess Mana, I take it?" Kyoge asked. He bowed deeply.

"Actually, I believe that I am now Queen," she replied.

"Queen Manapalata, I have orders here for your arrest." He stood up and gravely offered her his arm, and without hesitating, she took it.

Stop it! Neil wanted to scream. It was like some horrible dream, in which everyone knew something terrible was going to happen, and yet they all continued on with their lives in the most polite way possible.

Kyoge looked at Weko. "I'm afraid that you and your family will have to come with us as well," he said. Weko frowned, his heavy eyebrows descending over his eyes, and nodded.

"Is that really necessary?" Chichilia asked, scowling. At that moment, Neil could see the resemblance between her and Riki.

"My dear, it is too late, as the Princess – forgive me – the Queen has pointed out," Weko cautioned her. "We can do nothing now but hope for Atol's mercy."

"Nonsense," Chichilia snapped. "Mercy? From that man, who is nothing but a pretender? He is selling his subjects as human experiments, and no one is doing anything about it. Well, it's time that someone did speak up!"

"Lady," Kyoge said, "please don't add Treason to the list of accusations I must present to the king."

"Treason?" Chichilia repeated. She smiled suddenly and said, "It is Atol who has committed treason of the gravest kind. I have here the sacred documents of Lampala, proving that it is Queen Mana who is our ruler, and not Atol, who seized the throne illegally." She reached into a deep pocket of her robe and produced a thick packet of parchment, rolled up and tied with ancient-looking gray ribbon.

For a moment, no one spoke. Riki shouted, "Wah-hoo!"

On that cue, Kyoge stepped forward and held his hand out for the papers. Chichilia handed them to him, saying, "I know, Captain Kyoge, that you will not try to destroy them. You are an honorable man, and I'm certain you will respect the sacred laws of our country."

Kyoge carefully untied the ribbon and unrolled the thick sheaf on the long table in the gallery. He read quickly, scanning the lines, and he looked up at his guards. "Let her go," he said, pointing to Mana. "These are indeed our sacred papers of royal succession on Lampala, and they show without a doubt that Queen Manapalata is our only ruler."

Weko grabbed Chichilia's arms. "Wife, how did you get possession of those documents?" he asked sternly.

"I stole them," she answered, looking straight into his eyes, "when I went to the temple this morning. You don't think I was really concerned about mere temple embroidery at such a time, do you? I still had my keys to the inner rooms from my time as a temple maiden, before we were married."

Weko's frown deepened, and a deep chuckle escaped him. "Ha!" he shouted. "Hahahahaha! My wife, the thief!"

Riki jumped up and dragged on Neil's arm. "She did it!" she yelled. "My mother! Can you believe it? She did it!"

"Be quiet at once, all of you," Mana's voice declared. Instantly, everyone was silent. She turned to Kyoge and asked, "I take it that this absolves your duty to Atol?"

"It does." Suddenly he got down on one knee and bent his head in front of her. "My queen, I am now under your arrest for treason," he said. "I hope you will understand why I acted as I did."

"Get up, Kyoge." Mana folded her arms. "We're going to be much too busy to think about treason. I don't want to start a war on Lampala, but I must take possession of my throne as soon as possible. Can you help me with that?"

Kyoge stood and faced her. As tall as Mana was, she had to tip her head up to look into his eyes as he replied, "I can. These guards are sworn to follow my orders." Neil, staring at the men and Mana, thought he had never seen anyone look more magnificent, or nobler.

"Still, Captain Kyoge," Mana said, "there are some guards at the palace who are not as loyal as you are, isn't that correct? In order to do this without innocent blood being shed, we must come up with a plan in the next few hours."

"A plan!" Riki squeaked. "I'll go and get my notebook." Not heeding the huge, armed men in her path, she dashed out of the room.

"My daughter," Weko said, throwing up his hands. "I see now that she is much like my wife."

"In that case," Mana replied, "she will be a very good woman."

"You know it," Neil blurted out, and he turned bright red as everyone looked at him.

## CHAPTER 16: The Festival

MANDAYALA PICKED UP another pearl necklace and tried it against her already laden breast. Something in the stony regard of her maid, who stared straight ahead over her mistress' shoulder, made her put it down reluctantly. She revolved slowly in front of the mirror, thinking that her appearance would please the most exacting of society's finest ruling members.

Tonight she would sparkle and Atol would notice her. She would mention how her husband (the insignificant Girawe) was so much more reliable than that odious Weko, who hid sick girls in his garden shed and whose house was searched by the palace guards.

She picked up a large glass flagon and gave herself one last copious squirt of perfume. She simpered at the mirror, snapped her fingers under the nose of her maid and descended, her tangerine and black train dripping down the stairs behind her.

Girawe waited below, his face turned up and wearing its usual anxious expression. "We're going to be late," he complained.

"Stop whining," Mandayala commanded, and he subsided. "The most important issue is: how do I look?"

"Lovely," he murmured. He gave her a kiss on the cheek that she proffered. A heavy wave of perfume overtook him, and he backed away with a cough. "The chair is waiting, if you're ready."

"One last look." She patted the tight, oiled braids wound around her ears as she peered in a glass hung in the hall. "Yes, that will do very well. Now, let's depart."

He took her plump forearm between finger and thumb and guided her to the waiting chair, a conveyance that had been outlawed in Pearson's time. Thank goodness, Mandayala reflected, Atol didn't stick to such old-fashioned, ridiculous notions about workers' rights. He had reintroduced the mode of rickshaw transportation to the islands. Otherwise, they would actually have to walk, or ride some ridiculous animal.

She climbed in, sat down, and arranged her skirts around her feet. Girawe, after giving directions to the four attendants, sat opposite her.

"Well," she said as they were hoisted in the air and borne in the direction of the Palace, "this is very nice, Girawe. We can see everyone and what they're wearing. I wonder what happened at dear Chichilia's house this afternoon. I doubt she'll come tonight, don't you? Oh look, there's Sentilo and Uwe. She's wearing green, poor thing. I wonder that her maid didn't warn her to wear a more fortunate color for her complexion. Oh no, Duma is in white! She'll be splashed with mud from head to foot with this rain! Yes, her hem is nearly four inches deep with it already."

Girawe, from long practice, ignored this monologue, emitting grunts of agreement at intervals to give the impression that he was listening. The chair joined a line of other titled and moneyed Lampalans, who were travelling by the same mode of transportation as Mandayala and Girawe, heading to the lagoon where the waiting palace boats would ferry them across to the festival.

"I wonder where Zonafe is. She said that she would lend me – oh, look, Girawe! How very odd!" Mandayala poked her head further out of the chair's canopy, totally obscuring her husband's view. She nudged him. "What do you think it is?"

"I can't see, my dear, with you in the window," he said in a mild tone.

"Well, look out there where I direct you!" she said, withdrawing her head a fraction of an inch. "See?"

There was a line of dark figures, dressed as plainly as Capuchin monks, with black hoods over their heads. They walked in a straight line past the chairs, looking neither to the left or the right, and acknowledging no one.

"Who can it be?" Mandayala mused. "It must be some sort of Palace entertainment. Oh yes, there's some sort of clown, or magician, or something – no, there's two of them." A pair of slim figures, masked and in bright scarlet satin, pirouetted and danced around the robed monks, who ignored them and glided on in silence.

One of the red imps saw Mandayala's chair. Pointing and howling in a high cackle, the devilish figure threw something onto the cushions behind her broad back. There was a bright explosion which made Mandayala sit back and squeal, followed by a puff of orange smoke.

"How dare they?!" Mandayala shouted. "Can you believe that outrage? I'm going to file a complaint – oh, look!"

She grabbed for something that had appeared in the explosion – a little gilded box, wrought to look like a birdcage, with a parrot carved out of bolemor wood and set with corals and abalone. "How pretty!"

"Not going to file a complaint?" Girawe ventured.

"A complaint? Of course not! How ridiculous you are at times. Such an original way of giving gifts! Atol is all nicety and condescension!" Mandayala put the little box on the seat beside her and stuck her head out of the window again. "We're nearly at the lagoon now – oh, those people in black robes are all getting onto one boat. Where are those red imps? I've lost sight of them now. Maybe they'll throw some more presents."

The chair was lowered, and one attendant opened the door. Mandayala pushed her way out and looked around for the flame-colored clowns, but there was no sight of them. She dragged Girawe by the elbow and pushed her way into the line of gorgeously attired Lampalans waiting for the next boat. Quickly she was absorbed by a large group of other women, all involved in.

"Zonafe! There you are!" Mandayala kissed a pretty girl in line ahead of her on both cheeks. "Did you bring that lace you said I could use? Uwe, such a lovely shade of green. It suits you exactly! Where did you get it – I must tell my maid –"

"Wonderful scent," Uwe responded. "And so brave of you to wear such an overwhelming perfume. I must buy some myself. Oh, did you see those red clowns? So clever of Atol, don't you think, to come up with such original pastimes while we're waiting?"

"Charming," Mandayala murmured. A palace guard assisted her as she climbed onto a boat. Girawe followed her, and she sank onto a padded, velvet seat. The boatman raised a pole and pushed off, joining a trail of boats that floated towards the Palace, illuminated by hanging lanterns.

"Isn't that pretty?" Mandayala said. She felt the material of the canopy that hung over them. "I do hope it won't rain before we get to the Palace; this boat's cover doesn't provide much protection – oh!"

She shrank back as a red imp popped up from behind her cushions. "Tell your fortune, lady?" it whispered.

"Ipa! Such a fright you gave me! My fortune, eh? Why not? How very diverting!" Mandayala offered her hand to the imp, who pushed it aside.

"The truth is in your eyes, lady." It looked at her closely through the holes of its feathered, sequined mask. She opened her eyes as wide as she could, staring back. After a moment, she felt rather uncomfortable.

"What do you see?" she asked.

"You give everyone a lot of entertainment," it whispered.

"Ah." She sat back in satisfaction. "I am a top hostess, if I do say so myself. What of our present situation? Will it change? I mean, will Girawe get the promotion over Weko?"

There was a hiss from the imp, and a low laugh. "Oh, yes, your situation will change. You can believe that, lady."

"We've arrived," Girawe said. The boats drew up to a long flight of marble stairs that descended right down into the water. More guards helped the guests alight by picking up fans and gloves and long skirts. Mandayala leaned on a guard's arm and scrambled up the steps. Girawe joined her, and she looked about her.

"Where did that fortune-teller go?" she asked. "It disappeared. Most vexatious; I was just about to ask more about our fortune and your promotion."

"Let us enter, my dear." Girawe tried to guide her to the steps. Casting one last, suspicious look around her, Mandayala followed the other guests into the Palace, which glowed like a planet above the long flight of stairs.

In the huge ballroom, the guests crowded into small groups, chattering and laughing. Mandayala and Girawe were handed crystal glasses of champagne. Mandayala took a long swallow and gestured with her glass to a large dais at the back of the room. "There's Atol himself!" she said, burping slightly.

The king, wearing robes of striped scarlet and green with a turban to match, looked impassively over the crowd. He was surrounded by a group of guards who bore the usual wicked-looking spears.

The chatter suddenly grew lower and died out completely. Atol frowned and squinted at the entrance. Mandayala turned and saw the line of black hooded figures winding through the crowd towards the dais. Atol murmured something to one of the guards, who picked up his spear and began to move towards the new arrivals.

"He doesn't know who they are," Mandayala whispered to Girawe. "He didn't arrange the imps and the fortunes! How very interesting! I wonder," she said more slowly, "if we can use that to our advantage."

The crowd suddenly gasped and broke into wild applause. The two red clowns ran into the room, and one of them turned a double summersault. It bounded into a series of wild flips, past the line of hooded figures. The monks ignored it and continued their silent procession.

Atol stared, and his face split into a grin. He laughed; a deep, rich chuckle and called out to the guests, "Come! Who has prepared this surprise for me! Admit it! Sentilo, was it you?"

No one replied. The black monks continued their approach, and the first clown reached the dais and sank into a deep bow. The second one ran up behind it and clapped its hands; a shower of confetti appeared, and a parrot suddenly flew upward and landed on the back of Atol's throne.

The king laughed again and clapped. "Who prepared this surprise for me? It is truly magnificent! Come, tell me!" he called again.

Mandayala suddenly had a brainwave. Pushing through the watching guests, pulling a protesting Girawe behind her, she called out, "It was us, Majesty!"

Atol looked up and smiled. He gestured to Mandayala, who grabbed her train with one gloved hand and her husband with the other. She hurried up the steps to the throne, pushing past the black monks and the red clowns, who were both now frozen in deep bows in front of the throne.

"But we didn't!" Girawe protested, propelled along.

"Shut up and come on," Mandayala urged. She reached the throne and curtsied. "Did you enjoy your surprise, Majesty?"

Atol inclined his head. "Most diverting. Can the acrobats do anything else?"

"We don't know," Girawe began desperately.

Mandayala cut him off with a look and replied, "They can tell your fortune, Majesty."

Atol's eyes lit up. "Really! That would be most entertaining. Tell them to approach."

Mandayala beckoned to the bright clowns, hoping that they would obey her. She needn't have worried; immediately they bounded up and ran up the steps. One turned a neat cartwheel in front of Atol and froze into a position of obeisance, and the other knelt and whispered, "You asked for us, Majesty?"

Mandayala hurriedly said, "King Atol would like you to tell his fortune."

"Enough, woman," Atol said, motioning her to withdraw. He stared at the red figure. "Tell me, will the Company succeed?"

"Beyond your wildest dreams," the imp replied.

"Ah. And the riches of the Palace will increase?"

"Indubitably."

"Tell me this," Atol said, pushing his head towards the imp and dropping his voice. His eyes glittered. "Do you know what it is that keeps me awake night after night, unable to sleep?"

The red figure nodded its head slowly. "It is a question, Majesty."

"Yes. And do you know the answer?"

The imp nodded again. Slowly, he rolled back one tight scarlet sleeve, revealing white skin. Holding out his arm, he rubbed it with his other hand for a few moments. Atol looked closely, and slowly, two words appeared on the imp's arm in red letters: MANA LIVES.

The king's eyes bulged and he leapt back in alarm. Recovering himself, he shouted, "Treason! Guards! Take them!"

The guards lunged for the clowns, but the red figures evaded them and ran down the stairs. One of them leapt in a t cartwheel off the bottom step, and it thumbed its nose at Atol before dashing off.

"Catch them!" Atol shouted, his forehead bulging with fury. He looked about him and his eyes fell on the astonished faces of Mandayala and Girawe. They both were cowering by the throne, hoping to be forgotten.

"You– you-" Atol choked on his own anger. "Death! Dishonor! Torture! You will be hanged for this!"

"Stop!" The shout came from one of the black-robed monks. They had been standing in a row by the steps, forgotten in the tumult. The one in front threw back her hood, revealing Mana.

She walked up the steps to the dais, her head held upright and her eyes fixed on Atol. "Your reign is over, Atol. I claim the throne in the name of my family."

"Seize her!" Atol shouted. "Machi! Guards!"

Another monk threw back his robe and pointed at the palace guards, who stopped, perplexed, when they saw him. "Don't move," he said. "I, Kyoge, your captain, order you."

"Kyoge!" Atol staggered back. "Treason! You will be hanged too! And Manapalata!" He turned suddenly to the guests, who were frozen in attitudes of shock and fascination. "Honored guests! Will you allow this pretender to take the throne from your king?"

Kyoge reached the step where Mana was and turned to the crowd. He held up a thick sheaf of parchment and shouted, "Here are the Sacred Documents of Lampala, which prove without a doubt that Queen Manapalata is our ruler!"

The crowd rippled. Someone in the back yelled, "Hurrah for our queen!"

"Queen Manapalata!" another guest echoed. he room erupted in wild shouts. "Queen! Our Queen! Queen Mana!"

"Watch out!" Chichilia gasped, taking off her own hood and pointing. Machi was approaching Mana with his spear in his hand, his teeth bared in a snarl.

Kyoge seized the other guard in his huge arms. He took Machi's spear and broke it over his own knee. The guards who had been guarding the king clustered behind Machi in order to defend him.

"Stop it at once," Mana ordered, raising one arm and pointing at the guards grouped behind Machi. They hesitated and slowly put down their weapons. One got onto his knee and bowed his head, pointing his spear towards her, and the other followed suit.

"Queen, forgive us," one said.

"What shall I do with miserable wretch?" Kyoge gripped the struggling Machi in a tight hold.

"Forget him for the moment." Mana said. "We have other things to worry about. Where is Atol?"

They looked around the dais and the ballroom, but in the disturbance, the former king had somehow disappeared.

## CHAPTER 17: More Plans

ALTHOUGH KYOGE AND his men searched the Palace, there was no sign of Atol. It was as if the king had simply melted into thin air. The tall guard came back into the ballroom, which had been cleared of all guests. There Weko and his family perched on the steps before the throne, still in their dark robes.

Mana sat on a simple, straight-backed chair to one side of the dais, writing something. She looked up as Kyoge strode into the room and remarked, "I see that you have had no luck with your search."

"Why are you sitting there?" Kyoge demanded, coming up close to her. "As Queen of Lampala, you should be on the throne."

"I am the queen in name only until I can bring the Glorious Corona back to the islands," Mana said.

Kyoge raised one finger as if he were about to admonish her, when he was interrupted by Riki and Neil, who ran into the huge room. "News!" Riki puffed, collapsing onto a step near Mana. "Gosh, this place is big. Machi has escaped!"

"What!" Kyoge picked up his spear and shouted, "Fobeta! Reni! Somebody explain this to me this instant!"

"I wish you would calm down a bit, Captain Kyoge," Mana said. "Obviously, Atol worked things out so he could make his escape in just such an instance as this. He must have been afraid that he would eventually be deposed."

"And he left with a large amount of money," Neil said, sitting beside Riki and propping one elbow on her knee. "The Palace clerks are checking the accounts now."

Kyoge opened his mouth, but Mana stood and put one hand on his chest. "That was only to be expected, Captain," she said. "Don't worry about these details now. We must decide on a plan of action as quickly as possible." She looked around as her voice echoed in the huge room and added, "This isn't the most comfortable room to work in. Is there somewhere we can sit and talk, and work something out?"

"The state room?" Kyoge suggested.

"Oh, no, not that drafty, dreary hall," Mana said. "I remember my father complaining about it when I was a child. How about the library? It does still exist, doesn't it?"

Kyoge bowed. "Follow me, my Queen."

Mana rose. "I wish you would simply call me Miss Postulate, or even Mana," she said, beckoning to Weko and the family to follow her. Taking Kyoge's proffered arm, she swept out of the ballroom with everyone in tow.

"Heh heh," Riki cackled, and she nudged Neil with one elbow. "I think he likes her."

Neil curled his lip. "Grow up, can't you? They are simply being noble and brave. I hope he's going to help us save Miriam and Simon. Gosh, just imagine what Mrs. Marchpane would say, face to face with Kyoge!" The mental picture, thus outlined, came to mind, and he began to snort.

"Yes!" Riki cried, her enthusiasm firing. "Yah! Take that!" Stabbing the air with an imaginary weapon, she ran after Mana and the tall guard.

The library was a large room lined with windows on the wall that overlooked the lagoon. Books covered the other three walls, and a table was dragged into the center and surrounded with a motley collection of chairs.

"Perhaps the children should go to another room while we make plans," Kyoge suggested.

Riki's mouth immediately opened in protest, but Mana cut her off by saying, "I think it would be best if they stayed. After all, I wouldn't be here at all if it weren't for them."

Neil and Riki sat down, a little way from the main table, and she nudged him again. "Think we'll go to war?" she asked. She was wearing a huge grin.

"Must you keep poking me?" he complained. "Your elbows feel like they're made out of iron."

"Oh, sorry – but do you think so? Wonder if they'll let me lead a battalion? I've always thought I'd be good as a general. What do you think?"

"I highly doubt that Lampala will attack the mainland, so the answer is No," Neil responded.

"Stop chattering, both of you," Weko said, frowning at them. "Now, Mana, where do we begin?"

"Queen Manapalata, you mean," Kyoge said.

"See, Papi; I always have to remind you," Riki countered with spirit.

"Let's dispense with all that at present," Mana said. "I was thinking that we must go back to the mainland with as much resources at our disposal that we can spare, and with some people that we can trust. It should be simple enough, now that the passage is open."

"Not too many, though," Kyoge said. Sitting opposite, he stared intently at her. "I find that a small group in delicate situations is better than a large army. Smaller numbers are better for reconnoitering as well as gathering intelligence."

Mana nodded in agreement. "Just what I was thinking. Well, who better than the group in this room?"

"But not you, Queen," Kyoge replied. "You are needed here in order to get things organized."

"I'm going," Mana responded, holding his stare. "I'm going to ask Weko and Chichilia to run the government while I am gone."

"Ipa! How about you, Papi? Ruler of Lampala!" Riki crowed. "Wouldn't you love to see Mandayala's face when she hears?"

"Mana, it's very kind of you, but we can't accept such a responsibility," Weko replied.

"We have an extremely important job to do – one that impacts a country, a company and several families. We will not get that job done if we allow false modesty and good manners to sway our judgment. Weko, you are the very man for the task – you have a high position with the company, everyone knows that you are a hard worker, and you are well-trusted on both islands." Mana nodded with determination.

Weko sat back, but he couldn't help looking pleased.

Riki began to bounce on the seat. "And what of the expedition?" she asked.

"I'm going with you," Kyoge announced.

Mana, however, merely nodded and said, "It will be a relief to have you near, Captain Kyoge, and with whatever men you feel you can trust." Kyoge crossed his arms and also sat back. "Now, Neil, I know that it's time for you to return to your family. However," she continued, holding up one finger to cut off his protests, "I also think I'll need your help for a while longer. You'll have to come with me as well."

Riki nudged him again, but Neil felt too pleased to mind. At last – he could now look for his friends, and with adult help. As much as he had wanted to act on his own, it had been a lonely proposition most of the time, except for–

"When do we leave?" Riki asked.

Weko stood and pointed at her. "Oh, no," he said. "Absolutely not. Your time of spies and plans with Neil is over, daughter. You have been a big help, and you have done a wonderful job, but now it's time for you to return to household duties."

"Papi!" Riki said. He looked at her, and she said, "Look, Papi, I'm not going to scream, or whine, or cry. I don't behave like that anymore. But I must stay with Neil and help him."

"Neil agrees with me," Weko replied, shooting Neil a straight look from under his heavy brows. "Don't you, Neil?"

Neil, feeling like someone who has to order a friend to either cut off a finger or to drink poison, nodded slowly and turned to face Riki. "Your dad's right, Riki," he said. "It's going to be very dangerous. And I promise I'll come back soon – Riki, wait!"

She had gotten up and backed away as he spoke. "I'm not afraid of danger. And you're not as effective without me, nor am I any good without you. That's just the way it is."

"Riki – I'll be back! As soon as I can!" Neil repeated. It was too late. Riki, her head held high, left the room and closed the door behind her.

"Oh dear," Chichilia said. "Still, she did seem much more mature, didn't she? The old Riki would have screamed and thrown a tantrum."

"She has improved greatly," Weko said. "That is due to you, Neil. And thank you for protecting her from danger as you did just now; I know it must have been difficult." He stood up and offered a large hand to Neil, who, after an instant's hesitation, took it.

"Yes, Neil. I and Kakujife thank you as well," Jirili said.

Neil cleared his throat and asked, "What are we going to do on the mainland, Mana?"

She reached for the little book she had been writing in earlier. "I think we'll rent a house in the City in order to have a base of operations. We can start to discover what we can. But the first order of business is to reassure your parents that you are still alive."

Neil nodded, dropping his eyes. Base of operations! Order of business! Riki would have loved all of this.

Mana got up and put one hand under his chin, tilting it up so his eyes met hers. "She'll see you again soon," she said, "and you can make her understand."

"All right," Neil said. He tried to smile back at her, but found that he couldn't.

# PART THREE: CROWN PHOENIX:

The Devil's Kitchen  
Bonus Chapters

## CHAPTER 1: On the Night Watchman Express

THE NIGHT WATCHMAN train swayed and chugged along through the countryside. Miriam stole a look at Simon's grim profile, sighed slightly and tried to shift into a more comfortable position. Since they sat on a floor made of dimpled iron, this was next to impossible. The windows in their carriage were boarded up with planks of roughly hewn wood, so there was no way to tell what time it was, or whether it was even still dark outside.

Her head drooped with weariness and hit the hard, wooden side of the train, and it woke her with a start. Sleep stole over her once more, and her head banged against the wall again. After a few more bumps, Miriam sat up and rubbed her eyes with one hand. She felt as though the inside of her lids had been filled with fine sand. In order to stay awake, she considered trying to talk to Simon, but his gaze was fixed at the wall opposite them, and he had a stern frown on his face. She wasn't in the best of moods herself; certainly they would only end up in another argument.

She folded her arms against her stomach and thought about a story she wanted to write when she got off the train. It was set in a country where there was a crystal globe called the Birthright, which protected the people and the lands in some mysterious way. However, the king of the country, who wished for quick riches to satisfy his own evil greed, sold the precious bauble. The land began to die slowly; the trees lost their leaves, even though it was still summer, and the rivers turned black and were filled with slimy, wriggling creatures.

Miriam felt a chill on her back as she imagined the pale, armless, boneless things that would fill the springs and wells and fountains in her imaginary country. Ugh. That would be the last straw for Tom, the farmer's son who loved to fish and swim in the ponds on the farm. No! Make that the last straw for Thomasina, the farmer's daughter. Miriam glanced at Simon triumphantly, as if she had just scored a point against him.

"Why must you smirk at me like that?" he demanded.

"I have never smirked at anyone in my life!" Miriam retorted. There you go, she thought. She knew they would only quarrel if they talked. "Be quiet if you can't be polite."

"Why are you trying to stay awake?" he asked, curling his lip. "You yawned so much just now that my ears nearly popped. You might as well just go to sleep, since we have no idea when we'll arrive, or even where we're going."

"Well thank you very much for that incredibly intelligent suggestion, but I can't sleep. My head bangs against the side of the carriage when I do."

"Oh for heaven's sake. What an idiot." Simon inched nearer and nudged her with one elbow. "Here, you might as well lean against me. Well, go on, I won't bite."

After an instant's hesitation, Miriam moved closer to Simon and gingerly put her head on his arm. That wasn't so bad. In fact, it was rather warm, and quite comfortable.

Simon looked down and watched Miriam's eyes flutter and close. She snored gently and put one hand on his arm.

He felt a tickle in his throat and stifled a cough. The floor of the carriage was filthy. In fact, there were some large stains in one corner that looked like dried blood. He looked away and strained his ears for any sounds from another carriage. All he could make out, however, above the constant rattle of the rails, was an anonymous intermittent rumble that could either be conversation or the pipes backing up. It could even be the conductor who had refused to listen to him earlier.

Well, no matter. When they arrived at wherever they were headed, he would explain to whoever was in charge the mistake that had obviously occurred, and he and Miriam would be sent home quickly. That fool of a ticket collector would have a great deal of explaining to do... he might be put in jail, or even deported... – Ouch! In between musings, he had fallen asleep and banged his own head on the side. Simon rubbed his head and remembered that he had called Miriam an idiot for doing that exact same thing. He shifted and experimentally tilted his head against hers so that they leaned against each other. Hmm... that was a bit better. Soon, he was snoring too.

The door opened with a sudden bang. Miriam looked up and blinked sleep out of her eyes. Beside her, Simon stirred as well. She realized with a jolt of something like shock in her stomach that they had fallen asleep curled up together.

"Disturb your kip, did we?" The odious conductor tapped a pencil against one leg and grinned. "About to have some company, you are." He looked out of the doorway and shouted to some unseen companion, "Bring the lot of them in! Sleeping Beauty and Prince Charming was just waking up."

It seemed they had stopped at a station. A large man, whose arms were bound behind his back, stumbled into the carriage as if he had been given a hard shove from behind. A thick chain at his feet connected him to another prisoner, who followed the first man closely. Another man entered, and another, all connected by the same chains.

Four prisoners altogether. Miriam swallowed. They didn't look like the types to inspire a friendly chat. The first hadn't shaved in weeks and wore a huge tattoo inscribed on one arm. He slid down, crouched on the floor opposite her and stared at her with bright blue eyes.

The other prisoners squatted beside him. Their chains clanked as they settled themselves. One, a smaller fellow with dark hair that beetled back from a low forehead, said to the conductor, "Oy! I wants my breakfast!"

"Yeh," the man next to him agreed. There were grunts of agreement from the others. Miriam reflected that she could do with some food herself.

The conductor emitted a short bark of laughter. "What would you lot prefer today, the poached eggs or smoked kippers? Or perhaps just buttered toast? Get out of it." He aimed a kick at the dark one and left, still chuckling. After a minute, the train screeched and began to move again.

The dark haired man nodded and said, "I didn't expect no more than a pig's squeal. Still, no harm in asking."

"That's right, Frank," the one with blue eyes agreed. He looked at Miriam again and asked, "And who might you two be?"

"We are –" Miriam began, but Simon interrupted her with his own explanation.

"We were put on this train by mistake. As soon as we arrive at our destination, we'll let a person of authority know of the error. Naturally, we'll be sent back to my parents right away."

Frank hooted. "Hark at Young Muck!" he said, baring his gums. Miriam saw, with a shudder, that most of his back teeth were missing. Simon opened his mouth again, but he obviously decided not to reply.

Blue Eyes stared at them with an unblinking stare. "You ain't going anywhere, either of yiz," he said after a moment's thought. "You're on your way to Devil's Kitchen, sure as eggs."

Devil's Kitchen! The name made a horrible chill slide down Miriam's spine. "What is Devil's Kitchen?"

"Where you're going," Frank said. "Shouldn't doubt you'll be there the rest of your days, running the mills and sweeping the floors."

"Packing the cases and driving the nails," the man next to him agreed. He had a scar that ran right down his face, from eye to chin, that snaked across nose and mouth.

"Carrying the water and sifting the sludge," the last man said. His voice was nothing but a hoarse whisper.

"Saying goodbye to fancy balls and servants," Blue Eyes said with a last chuckle. "Now, stow it, lads. I want to catch a few winks." He leaned back and closed his eyes, and the rest of them fell silent, although Frank leered at Miriam whenever she looked at him.

Obviously, she reflected, Blue Eyes was the leader, if you could call it that. She noticed that although his head also struck the back of the carriage when the train began to pick up speed, it didn't wake him at all. He must have been exhausted; indeed, all of the men had dark shadows smeared under their eyes.

Simon sat upright rigidly. Miriam stole a peep at his face and saw that he was doing the same thing as her: trying not to look at the men. He must have been embarrassed by the reference to his posh accent, and he tried to hide it by with a scowl at her when she looked at him.

"What?" she asked. "I didn't do anything."

"Shut up," he replied. A moment later, he whispered, "What do you think Devil's Kitchen is?"

"No idea, but it doesn't sound too promising."

He sighed. "A masterful understatement."

"Well of all the-" she started, when Frank interrupted.

"What are you two on about? Blowing kisses in her ear, are yeh? Eh, young buck? Couldn't I just show you how to fancy a girl in my time? Couldn't I just!" He winked outrageously at Simon and let a pink slice of tongue show through his teeth.

A slew of responses tripped to Miriam's tongue ("Be quiet, you horrible, dirty old man; I wouldn't let him blow kisses in my ear if he begged for it; mind your own business, you old leatherhead,") but she foresaw a losing fight as the only possible result of any argument with Frank. With great self-control, she kept her mouth closed.

Simon was probably going through the same inner battle. His face turned purple from the effort. Frank must have seen this, as he chuckled, leaned over the man with the scar, and nudged Hoarse Voice.

"Lay off it, Frank," Hoarse Voice wheezed.

Frank opened his mouth to retort, but the train rounded a turn and began to slow down.

"Maybe we're almost there," Miriam said.

"At last," Simon responded. "I can talk to someone with some education and let them know what severe trouble they are in."

"I just want to know what happened to Mana." Miriam tried not to shiver.

The door to the carriage opened again, and the guard thrust his head in. "On your feet, you lot," he said to the prisoners. "You too." He nudged Miriam with one toe.

"Leave her alone!" Simon spluttered, but the guard had already left. "Idiot," he said to the closed door.

"It's all right," Miriam said. "Soon you'll be able to talk to someone in charge, as you keep saying."

The prisoners stood up slowly. Miriam could hear their joints crack as they straightened their spines. Blue Eyes opened his eyes with a slight snore and came to instant awareness; he stretched and rose to his feet.

"Perhaps we had better get up," Simon said in a low voice to Miriam. "I want to be prepared for whatever comes next."

The train slowed further and stopped with a jerk. This caused Simon, Miriam and the prisoners to tilt forward and snap back upright. The door opened again and the guard shouted, "All out! Come on, you horrible lot!"

Blue Eyes took this in stride. He pushed Frank and the others slightly and they began to move out, their steps shortened by the chains around their ankles. Miriam waited until they had left, and she got up and followed them.

"Have a nice stay," the guard said as Miriam passed him. He winked and elbowed her as she passed by him.

Oh, for heaven's sake, Miriam thought. She ignored him as she followed the line of men, and the guard walked close behind her and Simon.

"Going to buy me a present?" The odious guard stepped right behind Simon's shoulder. "After all, you've got connections in high places, don't you, young muck? Hope you brought your paint-box for some fancy watercolors! Won't want to forget a minute of your stay." He continued in this vein, and Miriam could feel Simon get warmer with aggravation. Be quiet, Simon, she willed. Don't say a word.

Only one train door opened to the outside. Another conductor pointed the way off the train. "Exit this way, you lot," he said to Blue Eyes and the prisoners. The men kept their heads down in stoic silence and descended, and after a moment, Miriam and Simon followed. The sky overhead was dark with clouds, and it had started to rain. The drops sluiced down her neck with a weary intensity.

The train had stopped, not at a station, but at the back of the back of a large, dark brick factory. The rails ran behind the place, separating it from a scrubby field filled with gorse and what looked like bits of old washing that had been torn off someone's line with the wind. Miriam stepped over the train rails and stood behind the other prisoners.

The building in front of them was surrounded by stone that was dark as slate. The factory was the largest structure in the mean little street, and it had several large, doors set into its dripping, dank walls. It had to be the place known as Devil's Kitchen.

One of the gates opened, and someone stepped out. Miriam stretched on tiptoe to see, but a trick of the light or the lack of it caused the person to look like a tall, dark silhouette against the brick wall. The face was entirely in shadow, until it turned to her, and the eyes flashed, the only visible feature.

Miriam gasped and stepped back. Simon put a hand on her sleeve and whispered, "That must be the one who is in control here. We'll be home in time for tea, just like I've said all along."

"Just a second," Miriam hissed and grabbed his sleeve. "I've seen this place before. I know I have."

"Bring them here to the gates," the figure declaimed in a somber voice, and Miriam realized that it actually was a very tall woman. The conductors prodded the chained prisoners and pushed Simon and Miriam, and they all shuffled towards the figure.

The figure looked down at them. Her hair, what there was of it, was scraped back from a face so bony as to appear skinless and bloodless. Her eyes were a light color, but the brows were heavy and black, descending towards the brow in accusing question marks. Hoarse Voice, who was first in line, stopped abruptly, and the other prisoners bumped into each other. Frank immediately said to the man behind him, "Oy, watch it!"

The woman's dark, bloodless head snapped towards him. The dark, little man was watched in silence for a long moment, and she spoke to someone behind the door. "That one," she said.

Two huge guards appeared behind her. "Yes, Headmistress," one said. They lumbered towards Frank and gripped him with huge hands, and pulled him into the dark, brick building. The other prisoners followed by necessity, as they were all still connected by thick chains.

There were no more complaints.

The Headmistress' light eyes regarded Miriam and Simon. "What is this?" she asked. "We didn't expect the girl just yet, and the boy shouldn't be here at all."

One of the conductors answered with a shrug. "They was dumped on the train back where we rounds the coast, weren't they. We was told to bring 'em, so we brung 'em." The other conductor nodded in agreement.

Simon stepped forward and held out his right hand. "Good day, madam," he said. "My name is Simon Marchpane, and there has been a terrible mistake." She ignored his proffered hand, and after a moment he stuffed it in his pocket. "My father is a businessman," he continued, clearing his throat, "an extremely wealthy business man, and he'll be wondering where we are. I'm certain that the authorities are on a hunt for us now."

The Headmistress stared for a moment longer, and she spoke again to the door. "This one as well," she said.

Another huge guard appeared and bore down on Simon. "Wait!" Miriam cried. "Just listen to him for a moment – it's the truth!" She stopped.

The guard's enormous fist exploded outward, caught Simon on the edge of his jaw, and dropped him to the alley. The guard watched him fall without expression, and Miriam bit down, hard, on her tongue so she wouldn't scream. The man picked up the boy, tossed him over one shoulder, and followed the other guards and the prisoners into Devil's Kitchen.

The Headmistress and Miriam confronted each other. The woman stretched out one long arm and gripped the girl's shoulder. "Come inside. Be quiet. Not one word. You have now seen what will happen if you try to speak."

Miriam stumbled through the door. Just before it slammed shut behind her, she saw the marks on the dark wood. They were long scratches, and they looked as if they had been made by human nails.

## CHAPTER 2: In the Devil's Kitchen

ON THE OTHER side of the door was a small, sanded yard, surrounded by four heavy, tall brick walls. The dirt underfoot was the damp, gritty sort that instantly gets into one's socks and causes dull, grinding discomfort. The bricks in the walls were stained an ugly dark brown, either from the smoke in the factory itself or from the dirty air in the alleyway.

"Where is Simon?" Miriam looked around her. The prisoners and the guard who carried Simon's limp body had disappeared, probably through one of the heavy, iron doors that lined the walls.

The Headmistress ignored her and put a whistle that hung around her neck on a silver string to her lips. She blew it once, a long, loud, piercing blast that echoed around the yard. Miriam shut her eyes and tried to cover her ears. The sound was horribly familiar.

One of the doors opened, and a man, as tall and thin as the Headmistress appeared. The Headmistress turned to Miriam and addressed her directly for the first time. "This is the Headmaster," she said. "You will do everything we tell you to do. Without argument."

"How many arrived today?" The Headmaster spoke to the woman and ignored Miriam.

"Four men from the prisons and two children. The boy has been taken to the Infirmary. This one needs a uniform and a cell."

The Headmaster nodded. "We'll put her in the one on the West Side. It's been vacant since the girl from the main island had to be evacuated."

The Headmistress nodded. "That will be fine. Do it now."

The Headmaster gripped Miriam and dragged her towards another set of the doors. He inserted a large key into a lock on one and opened it. Miriam stumbled as he thrust her into a narrow hallway that was lit by two insignificant lanterns that left plenty of shadows and dark corners. By their light, however, Miriam could just discern a steep staircase that descended into the dark.

His fingers felt like damp chicken bones as he pushed her down the flight of stairs. "You don't have to squeeze me," she said, exasperated, and she tried to shake his hand off. "I saw what your goons do to us if we don't obey you." The only response was a tighter grip.

At the bottom of the stairs, the Headmaster steered her to the left, down another narrow, dark passage. Drips ran down the walls, and she could hear a metallic clanking sound, rather muffled by the thick walls. The air was cooler down here but smelled stale.

The Headmaster suddenly stopped her and made her turn to face another door. Taking out another key, he opened it and said, "In here."

Miriam squinted her eyes, as the tiny room was well lit compared to the dark hall. The Headmaster took out a whistle like the Headmistress' and blew two long blasts and one short one. Instantly, a woman appeared from a door in the opposite wall. Miriam, her hopes rising, saw that she had the same brown skin as Mana, the same dark hair, and the same black eyes. The eyes of the woman, however, were dull and listless. When she saw the Headmaster, she dropped her head and began to nod in a strange, rhythmic way.

"Clean her," he said. "Take her to Tache's old cell." He turned and walked out of the room.

Miriam started forward and asked, "Are you from the Island? Oh, you must be! Do you know Mana?"

The woman looked up for a moment, but she shielded her eyes. "Oh no," she said. "Oh no." She continued to nod and repeat those words to herself as she turned to an old desk in one corner and removed a large pair of shears.

"What is your name? My name is Miriam," she told her, speaking slower. "Look, I'm not supposed to be here. You were probably kidnapped too, weren't you? Maybe we could help each other."

The woman merely beckoned. Miriam followed her through the door in the opposite wall, still hoping to break through. "Do you know of a way out of here? Are there any other stairways to the outside?"

"Oh, no." The woman waved the shears. Miriam went with her into a larger room where more women, all with white skins, bustled about in silent, meaningless tasks. One was counting a mass of folded, gray shirts on some shelves. Another poured a stream of water into a tin bath.

The woman said nothing but pushed Miriam forward and pointed to the bath. "What?!" Miriam said, her voice rising. "I'm not going to undress here – oy, stop that!" Two of the women had come forward and seized her. Her pinafore was pulled over her head, her dress unbuttoned, and her shoes and stockings were pulled off. Before she could protest, Miriam was popped into the bath. The woman from the island disappeared, leaving Miriam with the other workers.

One seized a cake of soap and Miriam's arm. "Hey!" she protested, as she was scrubbed with a stiff brush.

The other worker spoke for the first time. "Keep your mouth shut, or yizz'll be eating soap." She snickered.

"Look what she's got here." A woman in the corner shook out Miriam's pinafore and pulled out Mana's wooden comb.

Miriam stretched out her hand, covered with greasy suds from the heavy soap. "Let me have that – please!"

"Oooh, must be precious," the woman said. "What should I do with it, Mrs. Siddons?"

The woman who scrubbed Miriam's back spoke up, her voice jerking as she plied the brush. "Throw it out. Headmistress'll have our hides if she sees such a thing."

Another one sniffed in a disapproving manner. "Looks dead heathenish to me."

"No, wait, please! I'll hide it, and I won't let the Headmistress find it, I promise." Miriam said, twisting to look at Mrs. Siddons. "It was a present from – from a friend. It's all I have. Please?"

Mrs. Siddons shook her head. "Oh, give her the silly thing, Dora, do. You kept your Samuel's picture for the longest time in your own cell, until they moved you. Now, you, girl. Shut your mouth as you were told, and mind you share your rations with me when I tell you, since I've let you keep your precious comb."

She jerked Miriam's face around, considered her for a moment, and added, "Pity to lose them curls. Hand me those shears, would you?" Taking the scissors in one hand and Miriam's hair in the other, she cut it off with two short, rapid strokes.

Miriam was hauled out of the tub and dried with a stiff towel that looked more like a piece of an old oats bag. One of the shapeless gray garments was slipped over her head; it was rough, but at least it was clean. Miriam thrust the comb down the front of the dress.

The dark-skinned woman reappeared. "Oh no. Oh, no." She pointed at the hallway.

"It's Oh No again." Mrs. Siddons gave Miriam's garment one last, sharp tug. "Take her along with you, Oh No."

Miriam was guided out of the room. She and Oh No made another left turn to more steps that went straight down. Miriam, who had been trying to construct a map of the factory in her head, realized that she was now hopelessly lost.

The passage opened into a wide chamber, constructed with the same greasy, stained bricks that appeared throughout the place. More doors lined the walls, each one with a grille and a small opening on the bottom. They looked like a row of prison cells.

Oh No brought her to the only open door and pointed inside. Miriam turned to her. "Look, we can help each other, really! I could make sure that you get make to Lampala, with your family."

The woman looked up at that, but there was a screech from one of the neighboring cells. "Save your breath, dearie! That one's flying with the dragon!" This was followed by a burst of maniacal laughter.

"Oh no, oh no." The woman shook her head.

Giving it up as a bad job, Miriam walked into the cell and the door was closed on her. An instant later, the key grated in the lock.

There was a cot in one corner of the room, and Miriam plopped onto it. Mana's comb skittered to the floor, and she picked it up. She felt the shorn hair at the back of her neck; it seemed to be terribly jagged and prickly. Suddenly it all seemed too much – the train ride, Mana's disappearance, the cut hair, the disgusting cell she was in. With the comb in her hand, Miriam lay down, stuffed her face into the thin, hard pillow and felt scalding tears burn her eyes.

"Mana!" she sobbed. "Mana – where are you?"

## CHAPTER 3: A Strange Place

DESPITE THE RED, thumping ache in his head, Simon could smell a delicious odor of soup, violets, and fresh bread. He opened one eye.

He had an idea that he was lying in a huge bed, his head propped up with luxurious pillows, and there seemed to be several people in one corner. He couldn't really tell, though, because the curtains were drawn and the room was dark. His general impression was that wherever he was, the room was very expensive and very clean.

"-waking up-"

"-better leave -"

There was the sound of a door opening quietly, and one of the figures left the room. The other came to his side, and he struggled to open both eyes fully. It was a woman in a white, starched dress, with a white cap on her head.

She put one hand on his forehead and said, "No use rushing things, now, you poor dear. Just close your eyes, and when you're ready, I'll give you some beef broth."

Simon opened his mouth to protest, but his eyes were closing against the material of her white uniform. Her dress almost seared his eyelids with its brightness. She smoothed his forehead again with one cool hand, and he fell back to sleep in a single instant.

It was either one minute or a very long time later that he woke up again. He had been dreaming, but he could remember nothing of that dream. He only knew that there had been something that he wanted very badly to get done, and he had been unable to do it.

When he turned his head on the pillow, the lady in the white uniform appeared again. No, it was someone different, but in the same clothes. How odd! This nurse was smaller and thinner, but she smoothed his forehead in the same way. "Don't struggle," she said in a low tone. She turned to the table and brightened the lamp on the table beside the bed.

Simon could now see that the room was even larger than he had thought, and it was very richly furnished. The velvet curtains at the windows hung down and puddled on the floor in soft folds, and the bed was canopied in white silk, embroidered with scarlet. Large paintings hung on the walls, portraits of foreign royalty next to large landscapes. There were bookshelves on either side of the bed, filled with volumes bound in green, scarlet, and gold leather, and inlaid with gold letters.

The woman in the white uniform brought a tray to his bed and put it on the round table. "Maybe we'll try some soup now," she said.

Simon was about to protest, but he stopped when she uncovered the silver tureen and spooned some of its contents into a bowl. A curl of steam emerged along with the rich smell of beef, and herbs, and sherry. His mouth watered suddenly, and he tried to sit up and reach for the spoon.

"Now, now, let me," she said. She pressed him back on the pillow and carefully held a spoonful to his mouth. "Not too quickly, there, that's it –"

The soup was hot and delicious. Still, something nagged at Simon's memory. Wasn't there something terribly important that he had forgotten?

"Where am I?" He tried to prop himself up again.

She pressed him back and blew on the spoonful to cool it. "Don't worry about that now."

"I must find out-" his words were cut off as she popped the soup into his mouth. "It's good," he couldn't help saying. "But please, just tell me where I am."

She interrupted him again. "Just get your strength back now, and we can talk more later. More? Yes?" She fed him the rest of the bowl and held a crystal tumbler of something cold and delicious to his lips. After he had swallowed, she said, "No use getting into a fuss, is it? Just rest now."

His head swam. That seemed like a good idea. He closed his eyes and slept.

The room was suddenly lighter with a few bright streams of sunlight piercing the heavy curtains. Simon sat up fully and winced as he moved his jaw. Raising one hand, he found that it was still swollen from – what the hell had happened to him, anyway?

Shaking his head as if that would help to clear his memory, he looked around. He was in the large bedchamber, but the linens on the bed had been changed. They were now a light blue, and they retained the smell of a hot iron. His pajamas had been changed as well. In fact, he himself seemed to have been washed. He must have slept for well over twenty-four hours, and yet he felt quite clean. As an experiment he sniffed. Yes, he had been bathed at some point.

The door opened and the first lady came in, bearing a vase full of flowers. She smiled delightedly when she saw Simon sitting up and exclaimed, "Feeling much better, aren't we? How nice! Let me just put down these flowers, and we can take a look at you." She removed one vase full of blossoms on the bedside table, although they still looked as fresh though they had just been picked, and replaced them with the new container of yellow roses, peonies, and snapdragons.

"Where am I?" Simon asked. His voice was a bit garbled, so he cleared his throat and asked again.

"In the hospital, of course, dear. You had a nasty knock on your head."

"This is a hospital?" Simon looked around in amazement.

"A private hospital. Now, just stick out your tongue for me – ahhh – that's right."

Simon pushed her hand away. "Ouch. Hey! I remember now! That guard knocked me on my jaw. Back in that horrible place, just off the train. That was it. And what happened to Miriam? They took her into that dreadful factory, the Devil's Kitchen. I simply must find her." He thrust one leg out of bed and immediately felt woozy.

"Oh dear, standing isn't a very good idea, now, is it?" She chuckled and pushed him onto the pillow, but he resisted her touch and sat up again.

"Look, I've got to find my friends," he said. "I tell you that Miriam is being held prisoner in that terrible place, that factory, and heaven knows where Neil is."

"Is that right? Tsk, tsk." She widened her eyes and shook her head as she clucked her tongue with elaborate concern. Simon knew she didn't believe one word of what he had just told her.

"Look, it really is the truth, miss – what is your name, anyway?"

"Why don't you just call me Nurse," she said. She smiled, and two deep dimples popped into her cheeks.

"Nurse, I have got to get up and get dressed, and get the police, and find them! Now!" Panic began to surge in his chest.

"I know, dear." She walked to the door, carrying the discarded vase of flowers. "But wouldn't it be best for you to get nice and strong and healthy, and you can find your friends when you feel better? How about that idea? Isn't Nurse clever? Now, I am going to get you a nice breakfast of buttered toast and coffee, and maybe I'll fetch you some ham if you're good." She opened the door and slipped out before Simon could say anything.

As soon as she shut the door behind her, he threw back the sheets and blankets. There was a pair of red leather slippers on the floor. They sat beside a little set of steps necessary to get into such a high bed.

He swayed with the effort, but he managed to climb down and thrust his feet into the slippers, which were his exact size. His legs felt horribly weak and shaky when he stood up, though, and he leaned on the marble and mahogany bedside table before he dared to take a few steps.

Simon tottered to one of the windows and brushed away the curtain. He was able to look out, or rather, down. The room was at the top of an extremely tall house. In fact, the walls were so high up that he felt he was in the ice tower in Miriam's story, the one she had been writing in the window seat. It seemed like a very long time ago now. Far below, he could see a deserted park that led to a deep, dark forest.

He tried to open the window, but the catch would not move. Nothing happened when he tried to lift the sash. Of course, he told himself, he was still terribly weak.

He dragged himself to the other window, but the view was the same. Oh well, Simon thought. He'd simply walk out, even though he was dressed in pajamas, and find a village somewhere. Every village had to have a policeman, or at least a post office where he could send a telegram.

On a chair by the door there was a silk, padded dressing gown. Silently blessing the person who had furnished the room, Simon put it on and tiptoed to the door. He seized the handle, but even though he tried shaking, twisting, and rattling, it wouldn't budge. The door was locked.

"Hey!" he yelled, beating one hand on the door. "Hey!" His voice seemed ineffectual against the solid oak, and the heavy door solidly absorbed his kicks and blows. He felt as though he was in one of those diving machines he had read about at school, trying to shout for help through walls of thick glass and miles of water.

Giving it up, Simon weakly fell into the chair from which he had snatched the dressing gown and looked around. The room was beautiful, it was clean, and he was dressed like a prince. But despite the luxury, he was in a prison cell. There was no question about that.
TO BE CONTINUED IN:

CROWN PHOENIX:

The Devil's Kitchen
ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Alison DeLuca is the author of the Crown Phoenix Series  
which includes Night Watchman Express, The Devil's Kitchen,  
and Lamplighter's Special, steampunk fantasies for young adults.  
She was born in Arizona and has also lived in Pennsylvania,  
Illinois, Mexico, Ireland, and Spain.

She currently wrestles words and laundry in New Jersey.
