Charlie Bone and the Wilderness Wolf. Jenny Nimmo

Чтение книги онлайн.

      Strangers from the sea

      Two strangers had entered the city on that chilly Sunday afternoon. They came on the river. Leaving their boat moored beneath a bridge, they climbed the steep bank up to the road. They moved with an odd, swaying motion as though they were balancing on the deck of a ship. A mist accompanied them: a cloying, salty mist that silenced the birds and gave passers-by unexpectedly chesty coughs.

      The smaller of the two strangers was a boy of eleven with aquamarine eyes, like an iceberg underwater. His shoulder-length hair was a dull, greenish brown with a slight crinkle. He was tall for his age and very pale, his lips almost bloodless. He lurched across the cobbles with an expression of grim determination on his thin face.

      The boy’s father had the same cold eyes, but his long hair was streaked with white. His name was Lord Grimwald.

      When they reached the steps up to Bloor’s Academy, the boy stopped. His eyes took in the massive grey walls and travelled up the two towers on either side of the entrance. ‘It’s a long way from the sea,’ he said in a surprisingly tuneful voice.

      ‘You must learn to live without the sea for a while.’ The man’s voice had the echo of a damp cavern.

      ‘Yes.’ The boy put his hand in his pocket. A restful look came into his face at the comforting touch of sea-gold. In his pocket he carried a golden fish, a sea urchin and several golden crabs. They were gifts from his dead mother who had made them from gold found in wrecks beneath the sea. ‘These sea-gold creatures will help you to survive,’ she had whispered to Dagbert. ‘But never let your father know of them.’

      As the boy began to mount the steps his father said, ‘Dagbert, remember what I said. Try to restrain yourself.’

      Dagbert stopped and looked back at his father. ‘What if I can’t?’

      ‘You must. We are here to help.’

      ‘You are to help. I am to learn.’ Dagbert turned and leapt up to the top step. His long legs carried him across the courtyard in a few swaying strides, and then he was pulling a chain that hung beside the tall oak doors. A bell chimed somewhere deep within the building. Dagbert peered at the bronze figures that studded the doors.

      ‘They are older than the house.’ Lord Grimwald ran his fingers over the figure of a man holding what appeared to be a bolt of lightning. ‘Our ancestor, Dagbert. Remember. We talked about Petrello, the Red King’s fifth child.’

      One of the doors creaked open and a man appeared. He was a burly fellow, completely bald and with a square face and small, expressionless eyes. ‘Yes?’ he said.

      ‘We’re expected,’ Lord Grimwald announced imperiously.

      ‘Name of Grimwald?’ The man’s eyes narrowed.

      ‘Were you hoping it might be someone else?’

      The man muttered, ‘Tch!’ and opened the door wider. ‘Come in, then.’

      Father and son followed the burly figure down a long stone-flagged hall to a door set into one of the oak-panelled walls. ‘The music tower,’ announced their guide, turning a metal ring. The door swung open and he ushered the visitors into a dimly lit passage. At the end of the passage they passed through a circular room and then up a spiralling staircase. On reaching the top of the first flight they turned to their right and entered a thickly carpeted corridor.

      ‘The doctor’s study is second left,’ said the bald porter. ‘As you said, you’re expected. The Bloors are there. All three of them.’

      ‘Your name?’ Lord Grimwald demanded. ‘I like to know these details.’

      ‘Weedon: porter, chauffeur, handyman, gardener. Is that enough for you?’ He stomped back down the stairs.

      ‘Insolent fellow.’ Lord Grimwald’s greenish complexion turned a nasty shade of terracotta. When he got to the study door he gave it several hard bangs with his fist, instead of the polite knock he might otherwise have used.

      ‘Yes!’ answered two voices, one deep and haughty, the other an eager screech.

      Lord Grimwald and his son went in. They found themselves in a gloomy book-lined room, where a large man stood behind a desk. To one side of the desk an ancient creature sat in a wheelchair. He was wrapped in a tartan blanket and wore a round black hat on his bony head. A few white hairs fell to his shoulders like waxy string. Behind him a log fire lent warmth to the room and a welcome touch of colour.

      ‘Lord Grimwald.’ Dr Bloor walked round his desk and shook his visitor’s hand. ‘It’s good to meet you. I am Dr Bloor, the headmaster. I trust your journey wasn’t uncomfortable.’

      ‘We came by sea.’

      ‘Impossible. We’re miles from the sea,’ said the creature in the wheelchair.

      ‘We came as far as we could, then took a boat up the river.’ Lord Grimwald shook the clawlike hand that thrust its way out of the tartan blanket.

      ‘I’m Mr Ezekiel,’ said the ancient man. ‘I’m a hundred and one. What about that, eh? Don’t look it, do I?’ Without waiting for a reply he went on, ‘And this СКАЧАТЬ