The Underground City (5 page)

Lewis looked at the now familiar face that confronted him in his bathroom mirror every morning. “You’re nuts,” he said in disbelief. “First of all, you want me to say ‘carpet, carpet’ and clap my hands and now you want me to open my bedroom window. Haven’t you seen the weather? It’s snowing outside, for goodness sake!”

“It’s a request, Lewis,” Prince Casimir smiled, “a request, not a command. If you would just open your window for a few minutes … to please me, Lewis!”

Lewis grinned and stuck his tongue out at the djinn before heading for the bedroom where he pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweater. Casimir seethed furiously. Just let him wait! Once he got him to Ardray, he’d soon teach him to show some respect for his elders and betters!

“If my mother comes in and finds the window open, I’m in trouble,” Lewis said aloud, knowing that the djinn could hear him. “The central heating’s on full blast, you know!” Nevertheless, he went to one of the windows and, hooking his fingers through the old-fashioned brass rings, pulled the window up. Six inches was enough. The magic carpet that had been hovering outside almost knocked him on his back as it flew in on the icy blast that whistled through the room.

Lewis scrambled to his feet, pushed the window down and stomped into the bathroom so that he could speak to Casimir face to face. “You might have told me you were expecting a magic carpet!” he said in annoyance. “It gave me the fright of my life!”

Casimir, however, was still dizzy with relief at the return of his carpet! It had answered his call. Now he could go home. Home to Ardray!

“That little mirror we bought yesterday, Lewis. Look into it, will you, so that I can talk to you in the bedroom and tell you about my carpet.”

Lewis nodded and went to fetch the mirror, wondering why he had ever been worried at the thought of having a djinn inside him, for he had not only become accustomed to living with Casimir, he was actually feeling grateful to him. So far, he had to admit, the djinn had more than kept his side of the bargain.

When he’d woken up to his first morning in Edinburgh, his first wish had been for cash. He was quite sure that Edinburgh would have all the big music stores and as he was desperate to bring his CD collection up to date, he’d asked for a
hundred
pounds. Casimir, however, had suggested a thousand. A hundred pounds, he’d advised, didn’t go far nowadays. The bundles of five pound notes that had then thumped down on the bathmat made Lewis blink and, worried that Mrs Sinclair might prowl round upstairs to see if he really was keeping his room tidy, he had gathered them up and hurriedly locked them in his suitcase.

As it turned out, he hadn’t been able to go shopping that morning as his parents had taken him with them to the hospital to visit his Gran. The hospital was huge and when Lewis got to the ward, he found it hard to believe that his kind, friendly grandmother had turned into the frail, shrunken old lady lying in the narrow bed. The change in her had frightened him and his face had been thoughtful as he’d left the hospital.

The next morning he’d asked Casimir anxiously if he could make his Gran better. Casimir’s lips tightened and he gave Lewis a most peculiar look. What Lewis didn’t
know was that in the world of magic, Casimir was generally regarded as being proud, arrogant and aloof by his fellow magicians. Indeed, his opinion of himself was so high that he very rarely deigned to speak to anyone less well-bred than himself. He was certainly
not
the type to be involved in good deeds, neither was he prone to being charitable; rather the opposite, if the truth be told. Casimir, therefore, was a good deal taken aback to find that Lewis quite naturally expected him to behave with compassion.

A bargain, however, was a bargain and Casimir was not ignoble. So he’d looked at Lewis strangely and said that it’d take some time but that yes, he could make his Gran better. And that afternoon, Lewis found his mother in the living room, her eyes shining with hope. The hospital had just phoned to say that his Gran was responding surprisingly well to new drugs and that she seemed set to recover.

Lewis, therefore, was feeling really grateful to the djinn and went quite happily into the bedroom where he found the magic carpet draped over one of the radiators, steaming gently. He looked at it dismissively for although he knew it was a magic carpet it was, as far as he was concerned, certainly nothing to write home about. It was a pitiful thing, really, he thought; thin, patched and almost threadbare in places. He could see from Casimir’s face in the mirror, however, that he was really upset at the state of the carpet.

“What happened?” Casimir asked the carpet, his voice choked with emotion. “What happened to you?”

Lewis didn’t understand half of the story that poured from the carpet. What on earth, he wondered, were storm carriers and who were Prince Kalman and Lord Rothlan?

Casimir’s face was a picture for he was looking totally
devastated
, furiously angry and filled with concern for his carpet, all at the same time. Lewis lifted it from the radiator. He could see
from the colours and the weave that it must, at one time, have been a beautiful carpet. Now, however, its colours were faded, it was patched in several places and its silken threads were so thin as to be threadbare.

He looked at Casimir in the little mirror. “Look,” he said, “I haven’t had my wish today and since it means so much to you, my wish is that your carpet will be made new again.”

Casimir looked at Lewis blankly. As a powerful magician, he wasn’t exactly used to being on the receiving end of simple, everyday acts of kindness and Lewis’s words rather took him aback. Then, as their import hit home, his expression cleared and, too full of emotion to speak, he merely nodded.

Lewis felt the carpet stir under his fingers and watched in amazement as it started to thicken perceptibly. Its colours brightened and grew stronger and its silken threads gleamed and shone in the light of his bedside lamp. When it was whole again, the carpet rippled with joy and took off round the room, whizzing around in circles until it forgot itself completely and wrapped itself round Lewis in sheer joy.

“How would you like to take a trip on the carpet?” Casimir asked, his usually sour face smiling and happy. “After you’ve had your breakfast, that is.”

“Won’t people see me?”

Casimir shook his head. “It’s a magic carpet,” he said, “and as you’ll be travelling with me inside you, you’ll be invisible!”

Lewis thought about it. “I could,” he said. “Mum and Dad are going back to the hospital today and then visiting some aunt or other.”

“Then we’ll wait until they’ve left. How’s that?”

“Great,” Lewis said, and went downstairs feeling happier than he had for a long time.

Flying on the carpet was cold, but fun. It hadn’t needed
Casimir to tell him that it was freezing outside for Edinburgh, covered in an unseasonably early fall of snow, had turned into a fairytale city overnight. At Casimir’s suggestion, he’d spread a blanket over the carpet to keep it warm and put on a couple more sweaters. Now, zipped up in his anorak with the hood pulled tightly round his face, he peered over the edge of the carpet as they passed over Princes Street, the snowy ramparts of Edinburgh Castle and the turreted splendour of George Heriot’s School. He looked at it with interest for once the October holiday finished he would be going there for the remainder of the term. His mother had already bought him the uniform! The snow-covered slopes of the Meadows floated by underneath the carpet and then more houses but it was only when they crossed the City Bypass and continued to head north that Lewis realized that it was not just taking him for a short flight round the city. He fished in a pocket and brought out the small mirror.

“Where are we going?” he asked anxiously, as Casimir’s face appeared. “Where are you taking me?”

“We’re going to visit my house,” Casimir said, soothingly.

“Where is it? Is it far?”

“Quite a long way. I should have told you, I know, but I
haven’t
been there for hundreds of years and, well … I’d like to see what it’s like now.”

There wasn’t much Lewis could say to this but if the magician had a house of his own that was miles away from Edinburgh, he saw future problems looming and as the hours passed and the carpet showed no signs of slowing down, he started to get really worried.

“Casimir,” he demanded, “is it much further? At this rate it’ll be dark by the time we get back to Edinburgh! My mum and dad will freak! Especially after what happened at Al Antara. I don’t want to get into any more trouble if I can possibly avoid it!”

“Almost there,” Casimir promised, but it was actually a good half hour before the carpet lost height and started to circle a snow-covered mountainside.

Lewis fished out the mirror again. “Are we here?” he asked. “I don’t see any houses.”

Casimir looked over the slopes of the bleak mountain and spoke, through Lewis, to the carpet which started to circle the area very slowly. Then it stopped.

“Get off the carpet and move forward, Lewis. Slowly! Hold your hands out in front of you and stop when you touch something.”

“But … but there’s nothing to touch,” Lewis said. “The mountain’s …” He stopped suddenly as his hand touched
something
invisible that sent a shock through him. “I’m touching something, Casimir. It’s …” he moved his hand and walked round the object, “it’s like a pillar. Look, my footprints have made a circle in the snow.”

Casimir looked through Lewis’s eyes at the carpet. “Where did you come from, if it wasn’t from Ardray?” he asked.

The carpet trembled. “Old Agnes mended me,” it said. “Prince Kalman asked me what had happened when you were fleeing from the storm carriers and … and I told him. But he didn’t keep me. He didn’t need to, master. He has his own carpet. So I stayed with Agnes. Master, I didn’t know that this had happened to Ardray, I swear it! If she knew, she didn’t tell me!”

“What
has
happened to Ardray?” interrupted Lewis. “Isn’t your house here any more?”

“My house and estates have been destroyed,” Casimir said. “This … this pillar of energy that you touched is all that is left of them.”

“Was it …
magicked?
” Lewis asked curiously.

“You could call it that,” Casimir said, looking old, tired and decidedly worried. “There’s only one way to find out. We’ll get
the carpet to fly around and see if we can spot any goblins. There might be some left lurking around to tell us what went on!”

The carpet took off again and this time flew high among the snowy peaks. Lewis hugged himself as the biting cold chilled him to the bone.

“There,” Casimir said. “That’s a goblin’s cave if ever I saw one!”

The carpet hovered outside the cave and Lewis retched at the foul, disgusting smell that came from it. He’d never met a goblin before and wasn’t particularly anxious to meet one now. But, since Casimir was inside him, he had no choice but to go into the cave holding the mirror in front of him. The place stank to the heavens and Lewis would have given anything to be able to turn round and leave. From the mirror, Casimir spoke magic words in a strange voice and, from the back of the cave there was a rustling and heaving as a ghastly creature rose from its dark depths and moved into the dim light that filtered in from outside. Lewis felt sick. The goblin was green and totally revolting, with gleaming red eyes, sharp teeth and claws. It smelt foul and was covered in sagging folds of knobbly, papery skin that rustled as it moved.

“Tell me!” Casimir demanded from the mirror. “Tell me what happened at Ardray!”

The goblin stared in blank amazement at Casimir’s face in the mirror. “Prince Casimir!” it slavered, gnashing sharp teeth. “You have returned!”

“As you see,” snapped the prince.

The goblin bowed and grovelled in front of him. “Ardray is no more, Master,” it said sorrowfully.

“Tell me about it!” demanded Casimir. “At once!”

The goblin fawned at his feet in a stinking rustle of flesh. “Your son, Prince Kalman, found the Sultan’s Crown and kept it in the room of mirrors but Lord Rothlan and the Turkish Sultan came and took it from him.”

“You were there?”

“Yes, master. I saw the Sultan take the crown from the Prince. Rothlan’s eagle, Amgarad, attacked him and he tried to escape through one of the mirrors.”

“And?”

“It was locked on the other side, Master. They trapped him between mirrors and Ardray shook with the violence of it. I was lucky to get away before it disintegrated altogether.”

Casimir’s face suddenly grew strained and old. He looked at the goblin. “You don’t happen to know where the mirror was set for, do you?”

“Oh, yes, Master. There was never any secret about it,” the goblin looked surprised. “We all knew that the mirrors were set for Edinburgh!”

A howling blizzard had blown throughout the night and as Neil and Clara sailed up the High Street on their magic
carpets
, skimming between the white roofs of the picturesque old houses, they looked around in wonder. It was like fairyland. The whole of Edinburgh lay deep in drifts of snow that glinted crisp and white in the thin rays of a wintry sun.

Kitor shivered on Clara’s shoulder and shifted on his claws as she fastened the top button of her coat and stuck her gloved hands in her pockets. Although she couldn’t see him, she knew her magic carpet was following Neil’s and as it soared above a double-decker bus she crossed her fingers and hoped that their plan would work and they’d be able to get into the Close unseen.

When they reached the City Chambers, her carpet hovered uncertainly and then headed for the broad, arched
passageway
that led to the entrance. Despite the weather, Mary King’s Close seemed quite busy, with one or two huge, tourists buses parked outside. Clara watched as the swing-door suddenly swung open and then closed again. Good, she thought. That means Neil’s inside. Now it’s my turn. Choosing a time when the doorway was empty of people, Clara’s carpet sailed down so that she, too, could slip inside. It wasn’t quite plain sailing, however, and she had to hang on to her carpet as it
suddenly
tipped sideways to avoid a couple of teenagers. Kitor squawked in alarm as he dug his claws into her coat to keep his balance and some heads turned at the sudden noise but, as Kitor was invisible, they could see nothing. Clara sighed with relief. At least they were inside! Her carpet sailed round
the entrance hall where people were clustered either waiting for the next tour to start or just wandering round looking at the displays and items for sale in the shop.

“Hang on, Kitor,” she whispered to the crow as one of the tour guides, dressed in old-fashioned clothes, got his tour group together and opened the door. “We’re heading for the stairs!” As the carpet tilted forward steeply, she leant back, grabbing at its sides to help her keep her balance as it sailed down into the depths of the earth.

Once in the network of old rooms and cellars, she looked around interestedly and then gulped in horror for, just as Neil had done, she saw the ghosts at once. She felt Kitor’s claws dig into her shoulders and knew that he was probably just as scared of them as she was.

Her carpet floated through a window into the Close itself and as they drifted here and there, following Neil’s carpet, Clara realized that he was probably looking for Mary King. Time passed and still they circled over the heads of tourists and ghosts alike. Then she heard Neil’s voice close to her. “Clara, I can’t see her anywhere! I’m going to ask one of the ghosts to fetch her. I’ll get off the carpet so that they can see me!”

“Be careful, Neil!” she warned. “It won’t only be the ghosts that’ll be able to see you!”

Neil slipped off his carpet and stood right in front of an elderly ghost wearing a wig, knee breeches and a brocaded coat. He looked right into the ghost’s empty eyes and said briefly. “My name’s Neil. I was here before. I’ve come to speak to Mary King.”

Clara giggled and then clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the noise. Usually ghosts scare people but Neil had
obviously
given this ghost the fright of its life! It stepped hastily into a brick wall and then stuck its head back through to see if Neil was still there.

“Go on, then! Fetch her!” Neil said to the astounded ghost. “I
can’t stand here all day!” And to the ghost’s amazement he got back on his carpet and disappeared.

Mary King arrived a few minutes later and looked around suspiciously. Again Neil clambered off his carpet and she jerked backwards at his sudden appearance. “We can’t talk here,” he said quickly. “I’ll see you down at the end of the Close.”

Word had obviously spread among the ghosts that
something
quite out of the ordinary was happening and Clara watched in horror as they started to drift from windows, walls and houses in their hundreds. She soared above them, quite invisible on her carpet, for they had agreed beforehand that only Neil would show himself to the ghosts. Peering over its edge, she looked in awe at the fearsome, ghastly crowd that followed Mary King to the end of the Close.

Neil got off his carpet and promptly wished he hadn’t, for the sea of faces that confronted him wasn’t the least bit friendly.

“Are you one of the magic people?” Mary King asked abruptly, her face set and angry.

Neil dug his nails into the palms of his hands to stop himself from trembling and shook his head. “No, I’m not,” he said.

“How come you have a magic carpet then?” queried another ghost, pushing its way to the front of the crowd. “In this city it’s only the MacArthurs that have carpets! Are you one of them?”

“No, but I know them. That’s how I have a carpet.”

The crowd gave an angry growl.

“Look,” Neil said, cross with himself at feeling so scared and suddenly fed up with the lot of them, “
you
asked me to come here.
You
said you needed my help. Well, here I am! What’s all this about?”

Good for you, Neil!
Clara thought, cheering him on.

A youngish man wearing a wig spoke slowly. “Maybe he doesn’t know.”

“You’re right,” Neil said shortly. “I don’t know! That’s why
I’m here!”

“What Mr Rafferty means, Neil,” explained Mary King, “is that magic people have a bad effect on us. We, er … tend to lose our substance and fade away if we’re in contact with them.”

“Which we’d rather not do,” Clarinda chipped in pertly. “Being a ghost is better than nothing, you know!”

“I’m sure it is,” Neil said uncertainly, “but you don’t need to worry about me. I’m not a MacArthur, I’m just a boy and … and I’ll help you if I can.”

The ghosts relaxed noticeably at this and even Mary King’s face softened. “Well,” she began, in a friendlier tone of voice, “that’s all right then! I’d better begin by telling you what’s been happening here! It’s like this. Some time ago, the old Codger here,” she indicated an old man, who raised his hand in a brief salute, “found two men in the tunnels below Deacon Brodie’s Tavern. They had a map of the Underground City with them and were trying to clear some of the roads. From what they say … well, we think they’re bank robbers!”

“Bank robbers?” Neil said in complete surprise. Whatever else he’d expected to hear, it certainly hadn’t been that.

“The Bank of Scotland,” nodded the old Codger. “Just down the road. They’re going to blow up the vaults and steal a million pounds!”

“You mean … you want me to tell the police and have them arrested?” Neil said.

“No, no,” burst out another of the ghosts. “No more people! That’s the last thing we want!”

“I see,” Neil said weakly, not understanding in the slightest, “but if you don’t want me to tell the police, what
do
you want me to do?”

“We want you to tell them to go away!” Mr Rafferty said seriously. “We’ve tried everything, Neil. We’ve tried to freeze them out, we’ve pushed them around and nothing has made
the slightest bit of difference. They still come every night to clear the rubble!”

“There’s no way that we can get through to them, you see,” interrupted the old Codger with a shake of his head, “they can’t
see
us and they can’t
hear
us!”

“So we thought,” Mary King said, “that since
you
can see us and hear us that … well,
you
might be able to speak to them for us.”

“We’ll show you the way through the tunnels to where they’re working, no problem,” Mr Rafferty said encouragingly. “And bring you back!”

Neil looked at them, a frown crossing his face. “I
could
talk to them, I suppose,” he admitted. “They wouldn’t be able to see me or the magic carpet but they
would
be able to hear me. Mind you,” he said, looking doubtful, “if they really are bank robbers, I don’t think it’ll honestly make much difference
what
I say. Bank robbers are a tough lot and believe me, they’re not going to give up a million pounds just because I ask them to clear out! Besides, I doubt if that bank has any money in it at all, you know. My dad told me that it’s not a branch any more. Nowadays, it’s a museum.”

“What do you think we should do, then?”

Neil shrugged. “Well, you don’t have to do anything, really, do you,” he pointed out. “It’s just a matter of time. Once they find out that there’s no money in the bank, they’ll go away
anyway
, won’t they?”

There was a fearful silence. Mr Rafferty started to wring his hands and the rest of the ghosts moaned horribly and eyed one another sideways, suddenly scared stiff.

Neil looked at them, sensing the fear that coloured the atmosphere. “That isn’t the real reason you want rid of them, is it?” he said apprehensively. “There’s something else, isn’t there? Something you haven’t told me!”

Mary King pleated her skirt with nervous fingers. “Yes,”
she admitted. “You see, we … we aren’t alone down here in the Underground City. There are places where
we
don’t go … where …
other
ghosts live.”

“The ghosts of the Plague People,” Mr Rafferty burst out nervously. “They were sealed in their cellars hundreds of years ago but they’ve always been desperate to escape. They long to be free again,” he whispered hoarsely, his voice trembling, “to roam in the open air! To infect people! To give them the Black Death!”

Clara sat, round-eyed and horrified on her carpet while Neil swallowed hard and turned the colour of chalk. “The plague?” he breathed fearfully.

Mary King nodded. “They carry the plague with them and the two men, Murdo and Wullie, are very close to their cellars, Neil. They might break into them by mistake. You must tell them the danger they’re in for, if the Plague People get out,
they
will be their first victims!”

“Of course I’ll tell them,” Neil said immediately. “Right now, if you like!”

Mary King shook her head. “They’re not there just now,” she said. “Murdo and Wullie only ever come at night.”

Neil looked troubled. “I can’t come at night,” he said slowly. “I just can’t! If I’m out, I have to be home by seven at the latest. I know I could get in here before they lock up but, if I did, I wouldn’t be able to get out again until they opened the doors in the morning! My parents …” Neil tailed off, shuddering at the thought of what his mother and father would say.

“The men get in and out through the cellars of Deacon Brodie’s Tavern” the old Codger offered, passing a hand over his grizzled chin, thoughtfully. “Couldn’t you get in and out the same way?”

Neil grinned weakly as he shook his head. “They’d never let me into Deacon Brodie’s Tavern,” he said. “I’m not nearly old enough. No, we’ll have to think of something else!”