The Book of Bones (27 page)

“Eventually this man knew, and his masters knew too, that their immortality was a curse. He was rotting from the inside. He believed the Book of Bones would save him. Instead it destroyed him.”

“You're lying!” I shouted. “What about the poison? The Baker Brothers poisoned Kit. They will give us the antidote as soon we give them what they want. You're only making this up to protect these moldy old bones and to stop us from taking them back to England.”

The nun regarded me. “You
know
this is not true.”

“But the poison. Kit was dying.”

“Those Brothers, they never poisoned Kit. It was a trick.”

“I don't understand.”

“Kit was never poisoned,” she repeated. “The only poison inside her was the grub, the darkness from Shambala. The Bakers knew this; they used this to fool you.”

“Kit was never poisoned,” I repeated in a daze. If this was true, our whole journey to China had been a gigantic trick. The Baker Brothers had played a gruesome practical joke on us.

“I told you, the Brothers make up a story to trick you. Because these two men also drank the waters in Shambala. They too have the worm gnawing at them, making their breath decay and their skin rot. They know their time of beauty and youth is short. They think the Book of Bones can cure them! But they are scared to seek it themselves. So they send first this man, this Jorge. When he failed to steal the book, they send Kit.”

The silence hung in the air between the three of us, with Kit's slumped body behind us and the corpse of Jorge laid out on the ledge.

“So this is it, is it?” I said finally. “This is what happens to Kit? She's left here on a ledge like … like that foul monkey thing … till her bones crumble to dust?”

“Of course not.” Gray Eyebrows frowned. “You
must
save her.”

“How? How can I save her?” I asked. “I'll do—anything. Anything.”

“I do not know. Just one thing—talk to her.”

“And say what?”

“What you feel.”

We reach the end of our story. We might have found it hard to make our voyage home, except for the appearance of a group of British soldiers through the ruins of the Wooden Men Lane. What were they doing there? you might wonder. The answer lies with that lady of mystery, Hilda Salter.

It was she who had set off the fireworks on the mountainside to signal to a “Special Battalion of her Majesty's Secret Forces.” These men, with the leathery skin of the hardened traveler, were half spies and half soldiers. They came to find the Book of Bones—and as an American patriot I've never been so pleased to see English soldiers in all my life.

But as they appeared—just as suddenly did Gray Eyebrows vanish, taking the Bodhidharma's bones with her. I tell you, she vanished. One minute she was there in the dripping cave, surrounded by solid rock. The next minute both the bones
and
the nun were gone.

What an adventure, yet what disappointment at the last. There was no Book, just moldering bones, albeit holy ones that some monks claimed to be able to read. No poison—instead a foul grub that was sucking Kit's life away. We had been cruelly tricked into pursuing a phantom goal. So our voyage to China ended in misery. We didn't even find anything of value to carry back home with us.

Hilda Salter hired a nurse to look after Kit on the steamer back to England, even though we all argued. Her aunt waved away our protests. So Mrs. Dalrymple, an elderly Yorkshirewoman, plain of face and blunt of speech, came into our lives. This lady was friendly to Rachel. I think she welcomed someone to share her load. But she treated me with suspicion. It was as if she didn't believe a boy could be Kit's real friend. Often, at the beginning of the voyage, she would shoo me out of the sickroom when I came to say hello to Kit.

Remembering Gray Eyebrows' advice, I persevered.

Once I was sitting alone with Kit, having relieved Rachel of the task, when Mrs. Dalrymple came in.

“What are you doing here?” she barked, peering at me through her wire-rimmed spectacles. “It ain't right.”

“Oh, don't be so foolish,” I exploded. “She's my friend.”

“She should have a chaperone. Alone with a boy any time of day or night!”

“It may have escaped your notice but she's unconscious. She's hardly going to start kissing me. Anyway, even when Kit was properly herself, we were hardly on kissing terms.”

“Should hope not.”

“She was more likely to give me a kick than make eyes at me.”

Mrs. Dalrymple began to laugh. “You are a funny
bunch and no mistake. I never met a queerer lot than you three.”

“You mean us
four
. There have always been four of us,” I said quietly. “The three of us aren't much use without Kit.”

After this conversation things were easier and Mrs. Dalrymple made no further objections to my presence in the sickroom. When I sat at Kit's bedside I would remember what Gray Eyebrows had said; I'd take her hand and talk to her. “Who is this Shaman?” I would ask her, recalling her last words. “What does he know?” Sometimes I would talk nonsense to her—the jumbled words of the prophecy continued to haunt me. What is the Black Snake? … Where is the land of the white sun? … White suns, black snakes, Yin and Yang. It was all gibberish—wasn't it? Only one thing rang true—the reference to the one “who rides the great sleep.” Who else but Kit?

She never answered my broken questions, though she was breathing evenly now. I didn't mind. I would talk to her, tell her my plans and dreams. Things I hoped we would do together. Perhaps I wouldn't have dared to speak to the other Kit like this, she was always so sarcastic. But on that ship I opened my heart to her as I have never done to anyone before.

I thought back to that last time, our row in those
stalactite-studded tunnels. I had teased her about not being “pretty enough”—and seen with pleasure how annoyed she had become. Now I wished I had been more honest. I had been childish to stoke her jealousy over Emily. What did I care for curls and eyelashes? What did I care for rosebud lips? There were a thousand pretty girls, but only one Kit. Why had I never told her this?

Mrs. Dalrymple, Rachel and I were the main ones who looked after Kit. Aunt Hilda rarely found the time, even on a long ocean voyage she was occupied with mysterious activities. Isaac, I think, found it too distressing and would scurry away at the first opportunity. We would take it in turns to sit with her and feed her, forcing soup and pureed chicken livers down her throat. Her mouth would not open; one had to push the stuff down her gullet, where a swallowing reflex would take it to her stomach. The first few times I found this ritual hard, even revolting. But I grew used to it and took satisfaction in the fact that I was keeping her alive. Bathing Kit, dressing her, was of course undertaken by the nurse or Rachel.

Sometimes I would fancy Kit was becoming stronger, that a tinge of pink was returning to her cheeks. At other, dark moments, I saw a translucent cast to her flesh. Her skin, always delicate however much she denied it, was taking on a bluish, waxy tone.

I kept waiting for her to start to complain. “Waldo,
you great sissy,” she'd say. “Stop talking such rot!” Her voice would be gruff—too similar to her Aunt Hilda's for any man's comfort. But I wouldn't mind because Kit would be back and ordering me around again. There was nothing so much fun as simply refusing to fit in with her plans! We would have one of our blazing rows. She would end up telling me there was no one as pig-headed as me on the face of this earth.

She would sit up in her big brass bed. Sit up, glare at me as if I was a mere worm and call me the worst fool in the world for letting her go through that cursed Wooden Men Lane. But she never did. And so we steamed back to England.

Where do you get your ideas for Kit's adventures?

The oddest ideas pop into my head when I'm lying in the bath or drifting off to sleep. Also from the jumble of life: reading, chatting to friends, talking to my kids. Everything can wind up in a story.

What's the most exciting place you've ever been to?

Ladakh, high up in the Himalayan mountains. It is remote, thrilling, like visiting the moon. I had awful altitude sickness on the three-day bus journey from Kashmir, and felt even worse when I looked over the edges of the cliffs and saw crashed cars and buses strewn along the mountainside, looking like papier mâché models. We were lucky to get to the capital of the tiny country in one piece. After the rocky moonscapes on the way, Leh was a delightful green oasis.

Have you ever found yourself in a dangerous situation like Kit?

When I was a war reporter in Georgia [near Russia] I was once caught in an ambush. Along with two other young
journalists, I'd rented a taxi and traveled from a besieged town. We were just going over a bridge when gunmen opened fire on us. We crashed into a ditch by the side of the bridge. Bullets were whizzing around everywhere. A bad situation got even worse when the taxi driver pulled out a pistol and joined in the battle. I still don't know how we got out of there.

What did you want to be when you were a kid?

A cook, a horse-rider, or failing that a writer.

Do you know any secret martial-arts moves?

If I let you in on the secret, I'd have to eliminate you straight away. With my martial-arts moves.

What are your favorite children's books?

As a child I adored
A Wrinkle in Time
by Madeleine L'Engle and the
Children Who Lived in a Barn
by Eleanor Graham. More recently I enjoyed
The Wind Singer
by William Nicholson.

What do you enjoy most about being an author?

I love it when the writing flows easily. When it is going well, writing is a wonderful thing. I also enjoy going to schools and talking to kids.

Where do you write your books?

In my tiny study, which used to be a bathroom.

Have you ever seen a real tiger or Egyptian mummy?

I've seen real mummies in Egypt—and let me tell you there is something very exotic about descending into a pyramid and seeing a real mummy. I've also seen tiger prints in Karnataka in India. But though I rode on an elephant through the jungle, we didn't actually see a wild tiger.

Where next for Kit?

At the moment poor Kit is in a coma. If she survives it, no doubt she will soon be trapped in another scary adventure.

Kit and her friends discover the terrible power of ancient Egypt …

Exciting adventures around the world!

Join Kit on an amazing journey to the lost city of Shambala …

Exciting adventures around the world!