I paused, pen in hand, not quite sure I had heard correctly. A large blob of ink spoiled the first page.
"What did you say?"
"I said we would need more than a week to prepare for the journey."
"Which journey?" But even as I asked, I think I knew the answer. Another, smaller drop of ink fell on the paper. The earth and the moon . . .
"The one we were talking about earlier," Ky-Lin explained patiently. "You said you were prepared to do your utmost to get the Eg and I back where we belonged. Remember?"
I recalled saying something to that effect, but he had interpreted it quite differently from my meaning: I had meant him to understand that I would find somewhere nice for them to settle down in, not take them all the way back to China!
"But I didn't mean—"
"No, of course you didn't realise how much there was to be done. You will have to resign your post at the school—that letter can be written tonight, together with the one to the solicitors. They will have to arrange for your bits and pieces to come down here, and of course find a member of their staff to accompany us, to make sure we actually carry out our quest."
"But you don't understand—"
"Of course I do! Anyone in your position would be a little apprehensive about the journey. But we'll have a good look at the maps, and don't forget I speak most of the languages and can guide you over the last part easily."
"But I haven't said—"
"That you'll need new clothes? That's another thing we must arrange. At this time of the year, for the first part of the journey at least, you will need much warmer wear. And of course we don't know how soon that mysterious young detective your uncle used to find you will take to reach us."
"But—"
"No, of course I will travel incognito, at least until and unless the others will accept me. I can travel quite comfortably in one of your pockets. A nice, new travelling jacket should have plenty of those for a compass, chocolate and Ky-Lins!" And he wagged his tail at his own bit of alliterative nonsense. "Oh, and you must get a passport."
I laid down my pen very carefully and sat back in my chair. I had run out of buts or, more correctly, knew whatever I said, Ky-Lin would chirp in with some enthusiastic idea for the promulgation of the journey. His journey. Not mine.
I knew very well I was being manipulated; I also knew that I had very little chance, apart from fleeing into the night and seeking Mr. Cumberbatch's unwilling protection, of getting out of this. And even then the mythical creature would probably reassemble itself into a pony and come galloping after me, or grab the attention of a passing owl and get there before I did.
At the beginning of the afternoon I had been fully determined to go back to London, resume my post at the school until I could find something better, invest my uncle's money and live a more comfortable life. But there had been my sense of guilt, exacerbated by that uncompromising sermon; I had been really happy to see Ky-Lin again, to the extent of an uncharacteristic hug; I had been upset by the odious conversation I had overheard at church about the proposed disposal of the Hall, which I now realised I was very fond of, and the final straw had been Claude Cumberbatch's letter.
Crumpling up the spoiled sheet of paper I got up and tossed it onto the fire, then crossed to the window, pulled up the sash and leaned out to smell the resin from the rain-soaked pines. Crossing back to the table I pulled out a fresh sheet of paper, wiped the nib with the pen-wiper and dipped it into the ink.
"Right, Ky-Lin, you win!" I said. "First the letter of resignation. Want to dictate?"
An hour later, with both letters written, I realised that this was what I had wanted all along: a clean break, a new life, the spice of adventure. I felt myself grow stronger and more positive with every line I wrote, as if a weight had suddenly lifted from my shoulders. I remembered a game we had played at boarding-school: you put your arm straight down against your side, then leant against a wall, pressing the arm as hard as you could for three or four minutes, then stepping away. Your arm rose into the air of its own volition, like magic.
My spirits were rising, just like that arm, so when Mrs. Early arrived to inform me that the rain had stopped and to collect the tea-tray, I was able to greet her with the sort of smile I hadn't felt like giving since I arrived.
"I have two letters here, Mrs. Early. Please give the boy this six-pence for his trouble." I knew that she would puzzle over the addresses before she handed the letters over, so I thought I would anticipate any confusion. "This one is to my previous employer, announcing my resignation, and the other is to my solicitors, asking them to forward my luggage from my former lodgings and advise me as to what arrangements need to be made before we set off."
Her face lighted up, then she frowned. "You're not stopping then, miss?"
"For a while—until we are organised. By the way, sometime in the next week or so there will be two gentlemen staying here, the ones who are to accompany us—er, me."
"You're going to take that stone ball all the way back to Chiney? Well, I never . . . Not that I thought you wouldn't, mind. And then you'll come back here and make this place something to be proud of. Heaven be praised!" And she meant it.
"What do we do now?" I asked Ky-Lin, once she had gone.
"We wait," he said, "We wait . . ."
In the meantime there was plenty to do. I sent off for catalogues of men's and women's travel-wear, and with Ky-Lin's help picked out stout, high-laced boots, thick gloves, leggings (!), a leather cap with ear-flaps, warmer underwear, a money-belt, a man's tweed jacket (small size) and a wicked-looking "hunting-knife." I didn't dare ask what that was for. From another catalogue we picked out a warm blanket, which I sewed up to form a sort of sleeping bag—we were going to sleep in the open? And a lightweight haversack.
All these items were, of course, cash on delivery, but I was relieved when Mr. Swallow paid us a visit in person on Thursday. I wouldn't have wanted to pay for all those items out of my own money.
I was pleased to be able to receive him in the morning-room, with a bright fire blazing and a vase of autumn leaves on the games-table. He raised his eyebrows at his surroundings, obviously impressed. Mrs. Early brought in sherry and sweet biscuits, and as he sipped and nibbled, and confirmed that he didn't need accommodation as he had booked into the inn for the night, I could see that he was revising his opinion of me.
He produced a folder full of documents, brushing the crumbs from his waistcoat as he did so. "I have here your uncle's instructions if you were to choose his alternative plan—which action on your part Miss, er, Lee, I must admit, rather surprises me—and he confirms that he wishes the expedition outward to be completed within one year. The time of your return is immaterial." He managed to make the latter sound unlikely.
"On the outward journey I should budget for one pound per day. There are moneys for outfitting included. Any moneys not used can be utilised for your—er, return." He consulted his papers. "I have contacted a certain—er—Mr. Danny Duveen, whom it was your uncle's wish should accompany you. I gather you will be able to accommodate him? I believe he is out of funds again."
I nodded. "We have room enough. What about your own representative?"
He seemed faintly embarrassed. "We are having, ah, a little difficulty in choosing the right candidate, I am afraid. But I expect to confirm the position as soon as possible." He shuffled his papers together. "When he—this person—arrives, he will bring the moneys with him, together with a receipt, of course, and his luggage. I can also confirm that your own personal belongings will be dispatched by train tomorrow and I have arranged for them to be picked up at the station and transported here—"
"Not by the village carrier, I hope!"
He raised his eyebrows. "Why, yes. Our Mr. Cumberbatch assures us he is an excellent man."
"Excellent, nothing! He is lazy, idle and forgetful! Can't you find somebody else? Or at least hold back my possessions until we find alternative transport?"
He shook his head. "Firm arrangements have already been made. The luggage will have left your lodgings long before I can contact anyone to stop it. Can you not find someone to accompany him and make sure he is on time?"
"What about Mr. Cumberbatch?"
He looked embarrassed again. "He has already returned to London, I'm afraid, as his presence here was no longer required."
I thought for a moment. "What time does the train arrive? Is it the same one I travelled on?" He nodded. "Wait a moment, please . . ." I went and had a quick word with Mr. Early, who seemed glad enough to oblige, then returned to Mr. Swallow. "Please ensure that the carrier is here at ten-thirty in the morning. Mr. Early, the housekeeper's husband, will accompany him to the station, making sure he is on time for the train and that the luggage is properly taken care of. Do I have to pay him again?"
"But I understand that Mr. Cumberbatch . . ."
"Then you understood wrong." I rose to my feet. "And now, if there is nothing else? Mr. Early will drive you back to the village."
"It has been a pleasure to do business with you, Miss—er—Lee." He stood up to shake hands. "I must also say that I would not have believed at our initial interview that you would have the determination and will to undertake this task, although I know your uncle had great confidence in you."
I was flattered. I had always thought of myself as something of a mouse. True, I had tackled the hard work and poverty in London pretty well, but what choice had there been? Come to that, what choice had I had here? I thought there had been, but what chance did I have against a magic ring, a close-to-hatching dragon's egg, and a fast-talking, persuasive, wily little Oriental creature of myth?
"Thank you, Mr. Swallow. I am grateful for your help. If—if our expedition proves a success, I presume you will have the papers ready to sign over Hightop Hall to me?" Nothing like sounding confident.
"Of course." He bowed. "I look forward to your return, Miss—er—Lee."
That evening Ky-Lin and I pored over the maps I had taken from my uncle's map-chest: Europe, Russia, Northern China.
"Is this the way you went with Summer?"
He shook his head. "Our way went further south. She travelled from Venice, through Turkey and Arabia into Persia, which is where I picked her up. We then used a caravan route through Northern India and Southern China, across the Gobi desert, then up the Altai Mountains to there—" He touched the map with his hoof. "All modern names, of course. Then, many of them were different, together with the boundaries. Of course, then time didn't matter: now it is of the essence. I suggest the northern route will be quicker."
"But—at this time of year—won't it be colder?"
"Probably; that's why I suggested the warmer clothes. But if we initially use the rivers—Rhine and Danube and across the Black Sea to Georgia and the Caspian, then we can cross the Khirgiz Steppes and bypass the Gobi: the Desert of Death they called it in those days—it will be cheaper. We can use commercial barges up the rivers. The only alternative . . ." He hesitated.
"Yes?"
"The way your uncle would have taken. Straight by ship to India, then north by camel-train. It would be quicker and infinitely more comfortable but we couldn't afford it."
Then that's out, I thought disconsolately. I looked at the mileage graphs at the bottom of each map, measuring them off a thousand miles at a time against my thumb joint, and—
"It must be five or six thousand miles!" I gasped.
"Double that," said Ky-Lin. "We're not flying, you know."
Double? That would make it twelve thousand miles! It wasn't possible! I couldn't do it! Nobody could . . . The dismay must have shown on my face, for Ky-Lin plumed his tail reassuringly.
"We can do it. Just about . . . Don't worry, girl. But from now on, until we leave, I want you to practice walking in your new boots, with a rucksack weighted with stones on your back. If you do that, it will be easier when the time comes."
"Walking! I thought you said we were travelling by river!"
"Have you ever found a river that you only had to step across to find another? There will be travel between all the waterways and beyond. If we can't find wheeled or animal transport, then we walk, and we carry our food and belongings with us."
"It's all right for you!" I burst out. "You're going to end up being carried in someone's pocket!"
He waved his tail. "When the time comes I shall do my part, I promise you."
"All right! I understand you will translate, guide and advise us, but what about the hard slog we shall have?"
He was silent for a moment, then: "Please put me down on the floor near the window and stand back . . ."
I did as he asked. For a moment or two nothing happened, then I saw something I would not have believed had I not seen it. Turning from mouse-size to rat-size was one thing, but what Ky-Lin managed was incredible. His outline became cloudy and there was a sort of creaking noise, followed by some popping ones and he grew up in size, first one leg and then the other; a thickening of the body, enlarging of the head, and finally his tail shot up into the air, the plume larger than ever, and his outline became clear and distinct.
I stepped back, suddenly scared. He was now as pony-sized as he had once boasted.
"Hey, there, don't be frightened!" His voice was the same, although it had deepened in tone. He stepped towards me, and his hooves clicked on the wooden floor, the plume of his tail swishing back and forth, creating a current of air that brushed me like a caress. "You see? If necessary I can carry burdens as great as any human. As I said, if we have to walk then I will do my share."
I opened my mouth to say something, to apologise, when we both heard footsteps in the corridor outside: Mrs. Early with my hot toddy!
"Open the window!"
I rushed to do his bidding, there was a hiss like air escaping from a balloon and a flurry of curtain and Ky-Lin had disappeared.
Mrs. Early bustled in, setting my hot toddy on the table by the maps. "Been plotting your journey, have you? Many's the time I'd see your uncle with not only the table but the floor covered with— Why! You've got the window wide open! It's raining again and you'll catch your death in that draught! I know your uncle was one for fresh air, but enough is enough . . ."
She began to cross towards the flapping curtains, but I stopped her.
"It's all right, Mrs. Early. I opened the window because some smoke blew back into the room. I'll close it in a minute."
"As you wish. Mr. Early will be up in a few minutes with your hot water . . ."
As soon as she had shut the door behind her I rushed over to the window to find a diminished-to-his-normal-size Ky-Lin shivering on the window-sill. Lifting him inside I pulled down the sash and put him down on the rug by the fire to dry out. I was trying hard not to laugh, he looked so bedraggled.
"Here, have a sip of my hot toddy . . ."
He did, then pulled himself together in a small, dignified way. "I bet you would fare no better if you'd been out there in the rain, and had to change back so quickly . . . Yes, thank you, another sip or two would be most welcome!" A long drink. "Er, this is alcohol-free, I suppose?"
My luggage arrived the next day, mid-afternoon. Jos. Carter, Carrier, came trundling down the drive with Mr. Early next to him in the front seat. The men carried my mother's writing desk into the morning-room, where it was unwrapped and polished by Mrs. Early. My grandfather's wing-chair went into what I had christened the library, where it received the same treatment from the housekeeper. The books went into the study, and my trunk into the bedroom, where I unpacked what little I had and put it away into the wardrobe and chest of drawers. The patchwork quilt I spread over my bed, bringing a bright patch of colour to the room.
Mrs. Early commented on what I had brought. "Two nice pieces of furniture, miss, and the chair matches the curtains perfectly. Is the quilt your own work?"
I explained it was my mother's handiwork, and she was full of praise. "By the way, miss, I've taken the liberty of putting the laundry basket in the kitchen. It was that heavy, Mr. Early said, that I thought you might have something special in it."
Laundry basket? My meagre laundry usually came in a brown paper parcel. Surely Mrs. Jugg hadn't wasted one of her hampers, which usually went to those with a far bigger laundry than mine? And heavy? I would go down and take a look.
But first I tried out my father's chair in the "library," letting its soft curves and soft cushions wrap me into remembered ease, but suddenly there was a loud scream from the direction of the kitchen.
Rushing down the corridor I opened the kitchen door and found Mr. and Mrs. Early looking at a medium-sized laundry hamper in the middle of the floor.
Mrs. Early was armed with a poker. "It moved," she cried. "I'll swear it did!"
"Saw it too," said Mr. Early, armed with a cudgel.
I gazed in alarm at the hamper, which bore a label addressed to "Miss S. Lee, Hightop Hall, Dorset. By Rail."
Suddenly the whole basket jerked and creaked and we all jumped back. One of the leather straps snapped, and there was a faint groaning noise.
"There's something inside," I said. "Perhaps it's a dog . . ." I was scared stiff, but reckoned we couldn't leave whatever it was trapped in there for ever. Making a quick decision I moved forward and fumbled the other strap free, then moved back quickly.
Mr. and Mrs. Early clutched their weapons more tightly.
"Come out!" I said loudly. "At once!"
The lid lifted, fell back, and out of a tangle of laundry stepped—
"Toby!" I cried.