west tower.
Manfred straightened up, rubbing his back. His leg still ached from the wounds the leopards had given him. But he wasn't prepared to give up just yet. He refused to believe the moth had escaped him entirely. Limping around the edge of the courtyard he stared at each and every cobblestone; not one eluded his piercing, coal-eyed gaze.
Claerwen waited. She might have been a dead thing: the vein of a leaf, a thread of grass. When Manfred had given up his search at last, she crawled out of her hiding place and moved toward the wall of the chapel. There she lay, in the pool of bright colors that fell from the stained-glass window.
She knew she must reach Charlie before he was tempted to travel again, but the route to his dormitory was steep and perilous for the tiny caterpillar that she had become. To escape Manfred, Claerwen had changed shape once more. It would take her some time to become a moth again. No matter. She would find a way to reach him.
On Friday afternoon, when the children went to pack their bags for home, Claerwen was still missing.
Charlie had used every spare minute to search for his moth, but there was no sign of her. And then, as he and Billy lined up behind the great oak doors, waiting for Weed on to open them, Tancred came flying up behind Charlie and whispered, "Charlie, Dagbert says he's got your moth."
"What!" Letting his bag fall to the floor, Charlie swung around and searched the line of students behind him.
"He's not here," said Tancred. "He's having an extra lesson with the talents master."
"I don't care where he is," Charlie said loudly.
"Shhh! You'll get detention," Tancred warned. "Wait till we're outside."
Weedon had appeared. Puffing and groaning, he drew back the huge iron bolts and rattled the oversize key in the lock. At last the doors were open and the sullen janitor stood aside while students swept past him and out into freedom.
The three buses were waiting in the square. Charlie stood by the steps as the other music students climbed ahead of him onto the blue bus. When Tancred appeared, Charlie grabbed his arm.
"So where's my moth, then?"
"I told you" - Tancred hitched his green cape further onto his shoulders - "Dagbert said he'd got it. He's offered to swap it for his sea urchin."
"What d'you mean?" cried Charlie.
Striding toward the green bus, Tancred said, "I mean that he'll exchange your moth for that gold charm I took the night he tried to drown you."
"So when are you going to swap it?" Charlie dogged Tancred's steps until they reached the green bus.
"That's just it, Charlie. I don't think I can let him have his sea urchin. He's not as dangerous without it." Tancred began to climb into the bus.
"You've got to!" Charlie leaped onto the bottom step.
"You'll miss your bus," Tancred told him. "Get off quickly, Charlie. This one goes in the wrong direction."
"I don't care."
"We'll find another way to get your moth," said Tancred as he moved to the back of the bus.
"Get off, blue cape," ordered the driver, "or I'll get the school janitor to remove you."
Charlie jumped off the step as the green bus rumbled out of the square. His own bus had already started moving, and he only just managed to catch it.
He was hauled inside by Gabriel and Fidelio and lay in the aisle breathing heavily, while the driver complained about kids who didn't have the sense they were born with.
Gabriel lifted Charlie's bag onto the rack as Charlie pulled himself to his feet and fell into the seat beside Fidelio.
"What's going on?" Billy's anxious face peered around the back of Charlie's seat.
"Tell you later," said Charlie, sinking back. He turned to Fidelio and whispered, "Dagbert's got my moth, but he's offered to swap it for something Tancred took."
Fidelio stared at Charlie. "I wish there was somewhere we could all meet. I've got rehearsals with the youth orchestra all weekend, but I'll be free on Sunday night. What are you going to do now that the Pets' Cafe is closed?"
From
Bethany Lopez
JT Sawyer
Gillian Bagwell
Arabella Kingsley
Jill Mansell
Mary Norton
Carrie Ann Ryan
Edeet Ravel
Maureen Driscoll
John D. MacDonald