The Palace Library by Steven Loveridge Page A

bad as Hells’ Bay.  I don’t think I want to go to
either!”
    Master
John leant forward and put a hand on her knee.  “You may not want it, but
meeting your ‘destiny and fate’ won’t often coincide with anything you want to
do.  Look at how you ended up here.”
    The
children looked at each other.  However kindly the words were meant, none
of them found them very comforting.  At the same time, Sophie sat up with
one paw on Harry and Eleanor’s legs.  She licked – well, kissed really -
Grace’s hand before settling down across all of their toes.  That, at
least, was comforting.
    “I’m
sure I’ve heard of Hell’s Bay before,” said Grace.  “I’ve just got to
remember where.”
    “Well
do let us know when you remember,” answered Harry, a little irritably. 
    Grace
stuck her tongue out at him, which at least made her feel a little
better.  And Eloise smiled at that, wishing she had a tongue to stick out
at all.

 
10.  Eleanor’s Book
     
    “What is that disgusting smell?”
shouted Grace.
    They
had all been snoozing.  It was the afternoon of the second day and they
had suffered a bad night in the carriage, uncomfortable and unable to
sleep.  Late that morning, they had turned off the road onto a much better
road at a place called Ilchester. 
    By
then, Grace felt she was beginning to master her star charts.  Harry knew
the Prophecy off by heart now and kept asking his book questions, but also kept
getting a bit fed up with just how cryptic the answers were.  In the back
of his mind, he was a bit cross about it all, as he couldn’t work it out.
    Eleanor
knew about hundreds of plants and what the book said they were used
for.   There were plants for healing cuts, plants to stop you feeling
hungry, and plants for curing animals.  But she was fed up too.  Her
book didn’t seem to be at all magical like the others.
    The
few times they had changed horses, there had been little more than five minutes
to stretch their legs and to accept whatever parcels of food were given to
them.  Sometimes it was delicious; sometimes it seemed rank.  Mead
had been offered, and Master John had made them drink it in places he knew the
water to be foul.  It was sweet like honey, but a little bitter too. 
And it was alcoholic.  All three children had the strange sensation of
being tipsy for the first time.  It was enough to quench their thirst
before the watchful Eloise snatched the heady potion away from
them.   Then, they had dozed off.  Perhaps it was the mead.
    Grace
had woken them all with her shout.  “It’s a really, really horrid smell,”
she added.
    “Yuck,”
said Harry and Eleanor at once.  Then Harry added for good measure,
“That’s a really disgusting fart.”  They giggled.
    Even
Eloise smiled at that, though she pretended not to and held her nose shut with
her fingers.
    Master
John then stood up, as far as the short ceilings in the carriage would allow,
and threw open the shutters: “January it may be and the air may be freezing
cold, but we need some fresh air.”
    Just
then, a huge pothole threw him down on the lap of Eloise.  She squealed,
but he just bellowed with laughter.  “I’m cooped up in here with you all.
Now the fresh air is giving me strength.  God help me if they don’t give
me a horse on my own in the open to ride back to Clarendon!”
    The
smell was not much better, and Sophie barked, just once.  Eloise pointed
at Eleanor and she looked down.  The sun streaming into the carriage from
the open shutters had blinded them all for a moment, but they saw what it was
now.  Sophie’s paws were on Eleanor’s book and she seemed to be scratching
the page with them.
    “Is
it you making that smell, Sophie?” asked Harry.  Her response to that was
to put her ears back and give a little friendly growl which clearly
meant:  “No it’s not.  Don’t be rude.”
    Then
Eleanor jabbed Harry and pointed at the book, “Look, silly.”
    Sophie
scratched the