Sophie said, “Eh? Oh, squids. I get you.”
The cook’s dog arrived as she spoke, with its legs going like pistons and drool hanging from its gnarly jaws. It shot out of the door and along the roof like a brown streak. Halfway along, its jaws went snap-crunch, and then snap-crunch again, and the squids were gone. Only then did the dog seem to notice where it was. It froze, with two legs on one side of the roof and two legs stiffly on the other, and whined piteously.
“Oh, poor thing!” Charmain said.
“The cook will rethcue it,” Twinkle said. “You two follow me clothely. You have to turn left through thith door before your foot toucheth the roof.” He stepped through the door leftward, and vanished.
Oh, I think I understand! Charmain thought. This was like the doors in Great-Uncle William’s house, except that it was unnervingly high up. She let Sophie step through first so that she could catch hold of Sophie’s skirt if Sophie went wrong. But Sophie was more used to magic than Charmain. She stepped left and vanished with no trouble at all. Charmain had a distinctly wobbly moment before she dared to follow. She shut her eyes and stepped. But her eyes shot open of their own accord as she went, and she had a sideways, sliding view of the golden roof giddily blazing past her. Before she could decide to scream “Ylf!” to invoke the flying spell, she was elsewhere, in a warm triangular space with rafters in the roof.
Sophie said a bad word. In the dim light, she had stubbed her toe on one of the many dusty bricks piled around the place.
“Naughty-naughty,” Twinkle said.
“Oh, shut up!” Sophie said, standing on one leg to hold her toe. “Why don’t you grow up?”
“Not yet. I told you,” Twinkle said. “We thtill have Pwinthe Ludovic to detheive. Ah, look! Thith happened when I wath here jutht now too.”
A golden light was spreading over the largest pile of bricks. The bricks picked up the light and glowed golden as well, under the dust. Charmain realized that they were not bricks at all but ingots of solid gold. To make this quite clear, a golden banner appeared, floating in front of the ingots. Old-fashioned letters on it said:
Praife the Wifzard Melicot who hidde the Kinge hif gold.
“Huh!” Sophie snorted, letting go of her toe. “Melicot must have lisped just like you. Proper soulmates, you and he would have been! Same size in swelled heads. He couldn’t resist having his name up in lights, could he?”
“I don’t need my name up in lighth,” Twinkle said, with great dignity.
“Doh!” said Sophie.
“Where are we?” Charmain asked quickly, because it rather looked as if Sophie was going to pick up a golden brick and brain Twinkle with it. “Is this the Royal Treasury?”
“No, under the golden roof,” Twinkle told her. “Cunning, ithn’t it? Everyone knowth the roof ithn’t really gold, tho nobody thinkth of looking for the gold here.” He tipped up one golden brick, thumped it on the floor to knock the dust off, and dumped it into Charmain’s hands. It was so heavy that she nearly dropped it. “You carry the evidenthe,” he said. “I think the King ith going to be very glad to thee thith.”
Sophie, who seemed to have recovered her temper a little, said, “That lisp! It’s driving me crazy! I think I hate it even more than I hate those golden curls!”
“But think how utheful,” Twinkle said. “Nathty Ludovic tried to kidnap me, and forgot all about Morgan.” He turned his big blue eyes soulfully up at Charmain. “I had a mitherable childhood. Nobody loved me. I think I have a right to try again, looking pwettier, don’t you?”
“Don’t listen to him,” Sophie said. “It’s all a pose. Howl, how do we get out of here? I left Morgan with the King, and Ludovic’s down there too. If we don’t get back downstairs quickly, Ludovic’s going to be thinking of grabbing Morgan any moment now.”
“And Calcifer asked me to tell you to be quick,” Charmain put in. “The castle’s waiting in Royal Square. I really came to tell you—”
Before she could finish her sentence, Twinkle had done something that made the dusty loft rotate around them, so that they were once more standing beside the open door to the roof. Beyond the door, Jamal was lying on his face along the roof ridge, shaking all over, with one hand stretched out, clutching his dog’s left hind leg. The dog was growling horrendously. It hated having its leg held and it hated the roof, but it was too frighte
ned of falling to move.
Sophie said, “Howl, he’s only got one eye and he’s not balanced at all.”
“I know,” Twinkle said. “I know, I know!”
He waved a hand and Jamal came sliding backward toward the door, towing the snarling dog. “I may be dead!” Jamal gasped, as the two landed in a heap by Twinkle’s feet. “Why are we not dead?”
“Goodneth knowth,” Twinkle said. “Excuthe uth. We need to thee a King about a thlab of gold.”
He went pattering away down the stairs. Sophie raced after him and Charmain followed, lumbering rather because of the weight of the gold brick. Down they rushed, and down, and down again, until they swung round the corner at the top of the final flight. They arrived there just at the moment when Prince Ludovic shouldered Princess Hilda aside, barged past Sim, and pulled Morgan out of the King’s arms.
“Bad man!” Morgan boomed. He seized Prince Ludovic’s beautifully curled hair and dragged. The hair came off, leaving the Prince’s head smooth, bald, and purple.
“I told you so!” Sophie screamed, and seemed to take wing. She and Twinkle raced down the stairs side by side.
The Prince looked up at them and down at Waif, who was trying to bite his ankle, and tried to drag his wig out of Morgan’s hands. Morgan was beating Ludovic’s face with it, still screaming “BAD MAN!” The colorless gentleman called out, “This way, Highness!” and the two lubbockins raced for the nearest door.