Oscar and the Magi: Secrets of the Lord Protector
Once again Skelton set the ornithopter hurtling through the streets as low as he dared, rushing down towards the dome of the Cathedral and then beyond, where the skyscrapers dropped away and they were forced lower, in between the roofs of the Victorian buildings, just above the street lights below, between chimney pots and aerials, rustling the leaves of the trees as they whooshed past.
“The Temple’s not far away now, are we ready?” Skelton looked back over his shoulder at them.
“What’s the plan?” Maggs pulled herself forward to see where they were.
“The Erl King’s power can hide us from being detected - I’ll set us down on the roof, we’ll be able to get inside from there… Now hang on…”
The ornithopter banked sharply and wheeled round the outside of a round barrel of a building and then it turned and there it was: The Temple, right ahead of them. They dove straight down towards the roof, the ornithopter spreading its wings wide at the last moment to bring them to a juddering, skittering stop on the tiles.
Skelton was at the door before they had stopped moving, opening it wide to reveal the roof glistening with recent rain.
“You gnomes stay here and guard Ridley, no one is to get in, understand? Flee if you have to… Maggs, Oscar, hang on to me…” without waiting for a reply he reached over and scooped Oscar up into his coat and then, taking Maggs’ outstretched hand, he leapt out of the hatch into the night.
They skittered down a slope of tiles to a low parapet that Skelton swung over easily, dropping through the cool air to a shallower roof. He ran up to the ridge and then along it to where it met a gable wall that rose up above them. In one fluid motion, hand over hand, they swarmed up the wall, although Oscar could see no handholds as they passed over.
Then they were up on the ridge of a high gable, looking down on the roofs of London stretched out around them. Maggs craned round to look behind.
“The Great Hall and the Charter Room are back that way.”
Oscar turned to look - behind them he could now see the tower over the main entrance to the Temple and, below it, a round area of roof that must be the Great Hall.
“It is,” said Skelton, “But we’re going to my chambers first…”
And with that he ran down the slope of the roof and dropped off the edge…
…onto a balcony two floors below.
Oscar recognised it now - they were outside the windows through which he had seen the Erl King in his uncle’s chambers - before he had even known that his uncle was the Erl King.
“Damn,” Skelton had gone to open the windows but then had stopped himself.
“What?”
“I forgot. I’m not the Lord Protector anymore - and no one can enter here without the Lord Protector’s permission.”
“Then allow me,” said Oscar, wriggling out of Uncle Rufus’ grasp and laying his hand on the window. It creaked open at his touch. “You may enter…”
“How did you do that?” Uncle Rufus was evidently stunned.
“They made me Lord Protector,” his Uncle’s amazement made him a little shy, “I don’t know why…”
“My fault really,” said Maggs, climbing through the window, “And no offence to you, Oscar, but I now think Cuddy felt it would be a popular gesture that would make the position simply symbolic and no threat to his plans.”
“Ye gods and little fishes,” said Skelton, following them into the room, “It’s age discrimination. Fired in favour of a younger man. A much, much younger man. I’d say congratulations, Oscar old chap, but what we’re about to do is either going to get you fired or render the entire concept of a Lord Protector null and void - still, good work, all the same - best man for the job, if you ask me…”
“Thanks.”
“Now, can anyone see my umbrella?”
“Your umbrella? We’ve broken into the Lord Protector’s chambers to look for an umbrella?” Maggs was aghast.
“Well,” said Skelton, with a sly little smile, “You never know when you’re going to need one, do you. Ah, there it is.”
He reached down behind a chair and pulled out his tightly rolled black umbrella, brandishing it happily. It looked ridiculously incongruous in combination with the furious robes of the Erl King.
“Now,” he said, “I think I ought to hand over the reins to my successor properly and introduce you, Oscar, to some of the tricks of the trade. You see that bookshelf behind you - could you fetch me that copy of ‘A Beginner’s Guide to Secret Passages’?”
Oscar, a little confused, although rather flattered that his Uncle seemed to be taking him seriously as the Lord Protector, crossed to the bookcase and reached up to pull the book down. Only, instead of coming away from the shelf, the book simply pivoted up on the base of its spine and, with a little click, the whole bookcase began to swing away from the wall towards him. It was a door to a secret passage!
“Sorry,” his Uncle was grinning from ear to ear, “I’m getting a little nervous and can’t resist being melodramatic. These passages only open for the Lord Protector, you see, they run all through the Temple - that’s why I wanted to come in here: we can get straight to the Charter Room without being seen. If we may, Lord Protector.”
“Of course, be my guests,” and Oscar followed his Uncle through the door, with Maggs following. The bookcase swung shut behind them softly.
It wasn’t quite what Oscar had expected of a secret passage. It was dry, warm, clean and lit by dim bare bulbs at irregular intervals. And when something brushed against his leg it was not a rat but the little black cat instead.
“Hello,” he said, stopping to scratch it between the ears, “How did you get in here?”
“Ah,” said Skelton, without turning round, “The proverbial bad penny. This way.”
They turned a corner then climbed a short flight of stairs. On one side was bare stone work, on the other bricks and wooden walls. They came to a place where the passage divided and Skelton turned left and led them under an arch into a narrow room. Narrow, but high - far above Oscar could see a thin bridge crossing in the other direction - another part of the secret network.
“But how do you keep this all secret?” He wondered aloud, “Are we inside the walls? It seems too big to fit…”
“This is the Temple, Oscar, headquarters of magic in Britain. Not all of it fits and yet it’s all inside. Ah, here we are…” And Skelton opened a small door in the wall.
Oscar stepped through to find himself coming out from behind one of the wooden seats that lined the walls of the Charter Room. He let it swing shut behind him. Oddly, even though the last time he had seen the room it had been full of people, it seemed somehow smaller now. The room was dim and shadowy - the only lights on were small flickering ones set in niches high up on the walls. This meant that the stained glass that made up the whole of the opposite wall glowed with the light from the room beyond - the Great Hall itself.
The Hall was evidently fully lit and Oscar could hear a great murmur filtering through the glass - it must be full of people.
“No lights, I’m afraid,” whispered Skelton, “And keep your voices down - they’re having some kind of meeting in there - we can’t risk being discovered.”
Oscar looked round at the high wooden stalls and the blood red tiles flickering in the wavering light. Shadows kept darting across the walls, making the place seethe with suggested movement. He could hear a voice the other side of the stained glass - a cold, clear voice: Cuddy’s, it had to be. Just there, the other side of a thin pane of glass, the man who had tried to kill them all.
“Can you see anything?” he whispered to his godfather - he was suddenly anxious to be out of there.
“Lots of things,” Skelton grinned back at him, “But nothing useful.” His Uncle Rufus was evidently finding this a lot more exciting than he was.
“By the King’s own work shall be brought to naught,” Maggs was impatient, “They key must be the Charter…”
“But it might not be,” Skelton tried to sound more serious, “So Maggs, you check it, Oscar, have a look at the stained glass, look for any Royal crests or portraits - I’ll check the walls, since I’m the only one of us who can get up there…” and he stepped up into the air, rising into the shadows above them.
Oscar turned and looked at the stained glass. It was odd looking at it from the other side - it all looked slightly unnerving somehow - it wasn’t just that all the writing was the wrong way round; somehow all the figures looked twisted and uncomfortable. Here, closest to him, was a man in a long wig that he now knew to be Isaac Newton. His head was turned to look over his shoulder and it made him look as if his legs were on the wrong way round.
Around the figures the glass was a mass of decorations, leaves and bits of buildings - there could be anything hidden in there. Already he could see two odd looking faces peeking out at him from by Newton’s nose. Then, in the middle, was the white dragon. That was already twisted round several times into all kinds of odd shapes: it was even holding its own tail in its mouth…
…and as Oscar looked, with a small ‘chink’ sound of glass tapping, the white dragon winked at him.
Had he really seen that? He turned to look at the others. Maggs was absorbed in the Charter and Skelton was somewhere high overhead, examining the roof. He looked back - perhaps he had been mistaken - the dragon looked exactly as he had first seen it.
Then, with a grinding, cracking sound, it dropped its tail from its mouth and smiled at him.
“Look…” he only had time to get the first word out before the dragon pulled itself backwards away from the lead surrounding it, and, with a great rending of metal and clattering of glass, swooped out into the centre of the Great Hall behind it, leaving Oscar standing in front of a dragon shaped hole in the window, looking down on the assembled Magi below.
“We stand at a crucial moment in our history,” Cuddy was shouting at the tiers of excited Magi, “The fate of the country… the world… rests with us…” he stopped and turned at the sound of the dragon, as the rest of the Magi raised their heads to look.
The light from the Great Hall filled the Charter Room, illuminating perfectly Rufus Skelton hanging calmly in the air in full view of everyone.
There was a great gasp from the crowd below.
“You two keep looking,” hissed Skelton, “and I’ll distract them.”
“How…” began Maggs.
“I’m sure I’ll think of something,” and the Erl Kings robes seethed and stretched around, gathering a skein of shadows that momentarily blotted out the light as he plunged through the gap in the stained glass and dropped down onto the stage of the Great Hall.