The Jade Boy Read Free Page B

footman as the strange little party disappeared into the passage behind the door.
    “Your friends are clearly very stupid.”
    Once again, Jem heard the words clearly in his head. He spun round and looked at the dark boy – who grinned and arched an eyebrow.
    “They are not my friends,” Jem blurted out, horribly aware that it looked like he was talking to himself.
    The voice came again.
    “Any fool can see that Cleo is a monkey. Would you like to carry her?”
    The dark boy reached out his arm so that it rested on Jem’s shoulder. The little monkey chattered before scampering across the bridge between them, settling herself by Jem’s ear.
    “See, as I told you – she likes you. Now, what about that food?”
    Jem was astonished. “I– I…” he began, before words rang out in his mind again.
    “You don’t have to talk out loud. Just think and I’ll hear you.”
    Jem thought about the door at the end of the passage leading down to the kitchens and then he thought about the pile of forbidden venison pies in the pantry.
    “
Perfect! We shall dine like princes
,” came the reply.
“Lead the way, my friend
.”
    Luckily, apart from a sleepy spit boy, the kitchen was now deserted. Everyone was upstairs preparing the banquet chamber. A new batch of pies, fresh from the oven, gleamed in golden rows on the table. Jem took one for himself and handed another to the visitor. The spit boy rustled to life in his sooty corner.
    “You ain’t to touch them pies. Pig Face’ll kill me if he knows I let yer take ’em, an’ then he’ll beat seven bells outta the both of us.”
    The boy shuffled closer then stopped, mesmerised, as Cleo leaned down from Jem’s shoulder and grabbed a nugget of steaming pastry crust in her little hand.
    “’Ere, what yer got there? That’s an evil spirit, that is.”
    The dark boy made a slight movement with his hand. Instantly, Cleo hunched herself up and leaned forward, baring her sharp white teeth. She looked like one of the gargoyles around the roof of St Paul’s Cathedral.
    Gobbets of pastry spattered from the monkey’s mouth over Jem’s coat. She reached out and yanked a greasy lock of the spit boy’s hair so hard that it came away in her paw. The boy squealed in pain before turning on his heels and racing to the safety of the yard beyond the kitchens.
    As the door slammed behind him, Cleo settled back again and started to stroke Jem’s ear.
    “I think you are not well treated here, my friend?”
    Jem heard the words clearly in his mind. He nodded glumly. He looked at the other boy, who was hungrily assessing the rows of pies on the table. He had twice called him ‘friend’ – no one had ever called him that before.
    “Well, just time for one more pie, I think,”said the visitor, reaching out to help himself.
    Jem was amazed.
    “You
can
talk!” he exclaimed. For, indeed, the boy had actually spoken the words aloud.
    “Of course I can, but only when I choose and only to those I choose to hear me.”
    Cleo jumped to the table from Jem’s shoulder and began to tug at her master’s silk sleeve.
    The dark boy put down the pie and nodded. Then he reached up to the folds of his turban and removed a shining brooch that was pinning the feather in place. It was shaped like a glittering scarab beetle. He placed it carefully in the centre of the table.
    He took a step back and put his hand on Jem’s arm to pull him away too. All the while he kept his eyes locked on the elegant jewel. Not for the first time that day, Jem felt completely baffled. What on earth was the strange boy doing now?
    The air around the beetle seemed to shimmer and fizz. Gradually, Jem became aware of a low humming noise and as the sound strengthened, the jewel began to pulse with light and colour.
    Suddenly its wing case parted with a crack and a plume of purple smoke began to waver from the split along the beetle’s back and into the air abovethe table. The plume whirled faster and faster and as it did so