12
Mice Are Always Right
Inglenook’s voice was soft and deep, and reminded Bryony of creaking timbers. But that might have been because when he spoke, the whole house seemed to reverberate with the sound.
“So you are alive,” breathed Edwin, emerging from behind Bryony. “But what are you?”
There was a loud cracking noise as the face’s smile broadened into a grin. “As I told you, I am the Keeper of Magic.”
Bryony pulled a face. “Magic?”
“The magic of all things. The magic of the earth and the sky, the sun and the moon. The magic that is yours to command. Now what is it you wish of me, young Masters?”
Bryony swapped a puzzled glance with Edwin. “This doesn’t make sense,” she whispered. “Fireplaces aren’t supposed to talk.”
“Neither are mice,” Edwin reminded her. “Looks like Stubby was right.”
“Of course I was right,” tutted Stubby. “Mice are always right. It’s just that humans never listen to a word we say.”
“That’s because you can’t normally speak,” Bryony reminded him.
“Oh yes,” said Stubby. “There is that, sorry.”
Edwin edged warily to within a stride of the wooden face. “This magic of yours, how did it get here?”
“The magic is not mine,” answered Inglenook. “I am merely a custodian. The magic was breathed into this building by the Wise Ones.”
“Wise Ones?” Bryony shook her head. “Who were they when they were at home?”
Inglenook seemed more than happy to explain. “The Wise Ones built Wychetts, as a repository for their magic powers.”
“A repo what?” asked Bryony.
“A repository,” said Edwin, relishing the fact that he knew a word Bryony didn’t. “It means a place to store stuff.”
Bryony nodded slowly. “So Wychetts was built by these Wise Ones as a place to store their magic?” She gazed at the cracking walls and crumbled ceiling. “Bit of a botch job, if you ask me. They should have got professionals in.”
“Wychetts was constructed many hundreds of years ago,” said Inglenook, a hint of pride in his deep voice. “It was not always as you see it now.”
“So what happened?” asked Edwin. “How come the house is in such a state? And why were you bricked up behind a wall?”
Inglenook sighed, and for a moment it felt like the whole house would fall down.
“In the Old Times, everyone believed in magic. But as the years passed, men looked elsewhere for answers, to machines and to what they called ‘science’. Man no longer wished to live in harmony with the earth, but to master it instead. Eventually no one believed in magic. Not even the descendants of the Wise Ones. It was then the Shadow Clan seized their chance and took over.”
Edwin frowned. “Who were the Shadow Clan?”
“Bad people,” said Inglenook, sadly. “A coven of evil witches and wizards who sought to master Wychetts’ power for their own selfish ends. They seized the house by force, and slew the last of the Wise Ones who dwelt here.”
“That’s horrible.” Bryony grimaced, and clasped her hands to her chest.
Inglenook sighed in agreement. “But Wychetts’ magic cannot be stolen, it can only be given. The Shadow Clan could make no use of me, so they entombed me instead, leaving the house to crumble and decay.”
Edwin gasped. “They just bricked you up? How cruel is that?”
“It is no matter.” Inglenook smiled again. “Because now you two Wise Ones have come to awaken me.”
“But we’re not Wise Ones,” said Edwin.
“Speak for yourself,” said Bryony, who was more than happy to accept such a title.
“To be precise,” continued Inglenook, “you are both descendants of the ancient Wise Ones, and as such were always destined to become Guardians of Wychetts.”
“So we’re Guardians, too.” Edwin shrugged. “What does that mean?”
“It means you may use Wychetts’ power,” said Inglenook. “The magic of the Wise Ones is yours to command.”
Bryony’s dark eyes widened. “The magic is mine to command?”
“Ours,” Edwin reminded her. “It’s ours to command, right Inglenook?”
“That is so,” agreed Inglenook. “Now what is it you wish of me?”
“It’s freezing in here,” said Bryony, eager to put Inglenook’s words to the test. “How about a nice fire?”
The words had scarcely left her lips when the hearth beneath the wooden face blossomed into flame.
“Cool!” gasped Edwin.
“As you wish,” said Inglenook. The fire went out, and a freezing gale blew flakes of snow down the chimney.
“That w-w-wasn’t w-w-what I m-m-meant,” stammered Edwin, wiping frost from his eyelashes. “P-p-please c-c-can you m-m-make it w-w-wwarm ag-g-g-gain?”
Inglenook obliged, and once more the room was bathed in heat. “Will there be anything else?”
Bryony could think of all sorts of things, but Edwin beat her to it. “Can I have a hamburger?”
“Eat in or take away?” asked Inglenook.
“Eat in, please.”
A hamburger appeared in Edwin’s hand. “Wow, now that’s what I call fast food.” Edwin bit into the burger, and then promptly spat it out. “Ugh!”
“What is wrong?” asked Inglenook, his deep voice edged with concern.
“Gherkins,” grumbled Edwin.
“Don’t be rude to him,” hissed Bryony, shooting Edwin a reproachful look.
“I meant it’s got gherkins in it. I don’t like gherkins.”
“I apologise,” said Inglenook. “But the young Master did not specify the precise ingredients. Next time I shall ensure there are no gherkins present.”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Edwin, breaking into a grin. “I still think it’s brilliant. Want a bite?”
“No way.” Bryony recoiled as Edwin offered her the hamburger. “Anyway, we shouldn’t be wishing for dumb things like burgers. How about money and stuff?”
Inglenook’s wooden features creased into a frown. “I am unable to grant requests for personal wealth. The Wise Ones forbade such things.”
“Shows you how wise they were,” huffed Bryony. Then she had another idea. “But what if I asked you to send me somewhere. Could you do that?”
“It would all depend on where,” said Inglenook. “Does the young Mistress have a location in mind?”
Of course Bryony did.
“America. Can you send me to America?”
“Indeed,” replied Inglenook. “Straightforward transportation spells are simple enough to perform.”
“Woo-hooh!” Bryony clapped her hands together. “How long will that take?”
“I can get you there in one minute,” said Inglenook. “Depending on air traffic and prevailing wind direction.”
“So do it,” demanded Bryony. “I want to go to America. Now.”
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” asked Edwin, knowing what Bryony had in mind. “America is a very large place. Is there a particular part of America you want to visit? I mean, have you got an address in mind?”
“Well of course I…” Bryony’s voice trailed off. “No, I don’t have an address. But Inglenook can take me to where I want to go, even without an address. Can’t you, Inglenook?”
“Um…” Inglenook frowned again. “An address would be helpful. Otherwise…”
“You could end up anywhere in America,” said Edwin.
“I’m willing to take that chance,” said Bryony. “And if it isn’t where I want to go, I’ll get Inglenook to try again. And again, and again until I find the right address.”
Inglenook cleared his throat. “I’m afraid that will not be possible, young Mistress. A Guardian may only use Wychetts’ magic when they are within the walls of the cottage. Once in you are America, I will not be able to grant your wishes.”
“Says who?” demanded Bryony.
“The Wise Ones,” said Inglenook. “It was one of the safety measures they put in place to stop the Guardians abusing their power.”
“So you can’t do it.” Bryony felt like crying. Then, as the tears threatened to burst from her eyes, she had another idea. “Instead, what if I wished for someone to come here?”
“That may be possible,” said Inglenook, coyly. “It would all depend on…”
“I want my mum,” said Bryony. “Can you bring her here?”
Inglenook hesitated. “That may not be straightforward.”
“But you said the power was mine to command.”
“Ours,” Edwin reminded Bryony.
“Indeed I did,” answered Inglenook. “But I may not transport people against their will.”
“This is my mum we’re talking about. Of course she’ll want to come here.” Bryony glared demandingly at Inglenook. “I want my mum and I want her now. I command you!”
The sound of knocking echoed down the hallway.
“Mum!” A screaming Bryony pushed Edwin aside as she hared from the room. “Muuuuuuuuuum!”