They had all been so intent on Maggs' story that they hadn't heard the door open and they all jumped at the interruption. The figure who had spoken from the doorway was an extraordinary scarecrow of a man, with wild curly black hair and a too small suit that he stuck out of at strange angles. His glasses were held together with sticking plaster, but the eyes behind them were bright and amused.
"Thursby!" Maggs was evidently delighted with the newcomer. Ridley nodded to him and he smiled back at her.
"Marion," he said, which Oscar could only assume to be Ridley's first name, "This was lurking outside - is it anything to do with you, or is it a Darkling spy?" Thursby held out his hand and presented them with the little black cat, who stared at them solemnly.
"Hardly a Darkling," said Maggs, "In fact, quite the reverse. This little cat not only saved us from the Wish Hounds but from the Darklings that attacked Hammages."
"Then the rumours are true?" said another voice, "There really were Darklings in Hammages?"
The person standing behind Thursby in the doorway couldn't have been more different. This was a neat and tidy little person, with a carefully parted lick of fair hair and a precisely pressed suit, with clever dark eyes and a polite half smile directed at everyone and no-one.
"And yet you're the ones the Watchmen are scouring London for, I take it?" Thursby was smiling but there was a seriously tone to his voice, "What have you and your little friend been up to, Maggs?"
"Ah, this is Oscar, Clive," Maggs waved Oscar forward, "Oscar, this is Clive Thursby: Oscar saved my life."
"Cuddy, Murray," Thursby gestured at the neat person and at the third bringing up the rear, a large, raw individual with a shock of bright red hair and eyebrows to match, "Pleased to meet you, especially if you saved Maggs' life."
"Oh, he did," interrupted Ridley, "I saw it all, the spirit - the cat, you know - came to his aid voluntarily, saw off the Darklings."
"Voluntarily?" Cuddy was very surprised - although it did little to disturb his neatness - and Thursby and Maggs exchanged significant glances.
"The terrible work the King hath wrought shall by the King's own hand be brought to naught," muttered Maggs.
"And your reward for this heroism? Persecution from the Watchmen," Thursby seemed extraordinarily satisfied by this.
"But I didn't do anything wrong," protested Oscar, "At least, I don't think I did..."
"You didn't!" roared Thursby, "That's precisely the point! Isn't this just typical of what the Knights Watchmen have become? These aren't our guardians, these are our jailers!" Thursby had suddenly leapt into action, jerking round the room and waving his lanky arms wildly, but no one seemed surprised by this: this was evidently an impassioned speech that he gave often and they were quite used to it.
"They can't protect us any more, that's evident from today, and so what do they do? They persecute those least able to stand up to them. Well, perhaps someone else ought to."
"Oh, and what are you going to do, Clive?" Cuddy was scornful, "Write a stiff letter to the Lord Protector?"
"Skelton's gone away," said Ridley, "He left yesterday - on the trail of the Wild Ride, apparently."
"Who's Skelton?" whispered Oscar to Maggs.
"The Lord Protector," she replied, which explained absolutely nothing, "The commander of the Knights Watchmen, the most powerful of the Three Wise Lords of the Magi." Oscar only understood a little of what she was saying, but the way she said it explained more - he could hear the fear and awe in her voice and it told him all he wanted to know bout this Lord Skelton.
"How do you know that?" Murray glowered at Ridley from under his eyebrows, "Skelton keeps his movements secret."
"Oh yes," Thursby was grinning at him, "Only the Watchmen know - you haven't met Marion yet, have you, Murray?" Thursby swept out a hand in introduction, "Marion Ridley, Knight Watchman."
"In training," Ridley interjected but Murray still leapt backwards, a knobbly finger jabbing out at her.
"Thursby! Are you insane? Letting one of them in here? She knows too much, she'll have to be dealt with!" he put considerable relish into this last phrase and Oscar could see that he rather liked the idea of 'dealing with' someone.
"I think that would be rather unfair," continued Thursby, calmly, "Considering that it was me who suggested that she take Skelton up on his offer."
"You?" Maggs was gazing at Ridley in confusion, "But why?"
"Surely you should know that," said Ridley, who didn't seem in the least bit worried about Murray, "Who but a Watchman could have helped you escape from the Watchmen? Who could be more useful to a rebellion than a member of the secret police? I think it was an inspired idea of Clive's."
"So do I," said Thursby, smugly, "With someone inside the Knights Watchmen, we will know everything they know, everything they're planning, we will have the upper hand."
"Then this is our chance," Murray was excited, his eyebrows dancing up and down.
"Oh yes, because without Skelton, there's only a hundred Knights Watchmen left in London," Cuddy scoffed, his precise voice clipped and sour, "This is ridiculous - all we ever do is skulk around in here, muttering useless threats to each other..."
"If we all stand together..." continued Murray.
"We can all go to the White Tower together," finished Cuddy.
"Ah, the White Tower again," Thursby smiled, "Cuddy's duties take him there sometimes," he explained to Oscar, "and its all he can think about - its exactly what they want, of course, they want us to be thinking of it all time: we're already prisoners of it, dammit!"
"But it's horrible, Clive, it really is: you haven't seen it: so many of them, just sitting there, marooned in themselves..." Cuddy's voice grew faint, "Everyone who's ever tried to stand up to the Watchmen, all with the life stamped out of them... so many of them..." his voice tailed away.
"So the White Tower is some kind of prison?" Oscar had figured that much out, "Full of enemies of the Watchmen?"
Thursby suddenly turned his bright stare fully at Oscar, a manic expression springing to life in his eyes.
"Oh, I like this boy, Maggs, I like him very much," Thursby placed a hand on Oscar's shoulder, "Yes, Oscar, all the enemies of the Knights Watchmen... a whole army of them, all in one place, all begging to be freed."
There was a brief silence and then Murray, the light dawning in his face, gave a wordless shout and started capering around the room. Cuddy was aghast.
"Clive, what are you suggesting?"
"What do you think he's suggesting?" crowed Murray, "Tearing down the White Tower, destroying everything it stands for!"
"But you can't..." Cuddy seemed speechless with fear.
"Of course I can! What could be better: a whole army of Magi just sitting there, just yearning for their revenge against the Knights Watchmen - its perfect - and we could do it, too - you've told me yourself a hundred times that they don't bother with guards..."
"We'd have to get in there, first - I have to be accompanied by a Watchman when I go."
"And you will be," Ridley stepped forward, "I've been there myself, with Skelton - they'll know me."
"It's madness," insisted Cuddy.
"It's brilliant," Maggs pulled herself up from her chair and clapped Thursby on the back.
"It's Oscar we have to thank," said Thursby, "Oscar, could you go to that drawer your were rifling through earlier and fetch me the little tin box inside - Maggs, this concerns you, too - I'm afraid we've rather been keeping you in the dark about this, for the same reason that we haven't told you about his place before: I didn't want to make any more trouble for you..."
Thursby took the box, which had apparently once contained something called Gold Flake, from Oscar and opened it. Inside, Oscar could see, were lots of tiny metal shapes, like six sided coins, all with designs stamped on them and a hole punched in one tip.
"...but if we're going to do what we're going to do..." Thursby lifted one of the metal shapes out and held it up to Oscar, "This, Oscar, is what we call a fob - all the Magi have one, usually several - here on my key chain, there on Maggs' bracelet, there on Ridley's watch chain..."
Oscar looked round and suddenly realised that everyone had some of these bits of metal hanging from a chain or a band somewhere on them - many of them were different shapes and types of metal - some of them even seemed to be little figures or models - some of the Magi, like Maggs, had many of them (although hers all looked quite old), some of them, like Murray, only had a few. The fob in Thursby's hand had stamped on it the figure of a knight, holding aloft a lance with a banner floating from it.
"Your fobs tell other Magi about you, who you trained under, what your specialities are, what organisations you belong to... This, this is the fob of a secret society, a banned organisation - if you wear it, it will be an open admission that you defy the Knights Watchmen, that you are a rebel, but it will also make you one of us, one of the Knights Errant..."
"But..." Oscar had just noticed something that he didn't understand, "Maggs has already got one of those."
"What?" Maggs started and grabbed at her bracelet, rattling through the shapes that hung off of it.
"There," Oscar singled one out, "That's the same shape, isn't it? It's the same one."
"Good God," Maggs stared at it, astonished, "I'd never - I barely look at them any more, I don't remember what any of them mean, I... How could I...? How could this have got there?"
"Because you, Maggs," said Thursby, "Are a Knight Errant, already - you have been for years, you were one of the founder members, back before the Darklings, before you lost your magic."
"But how? Why? Why did no one tell me?"
"Because of what happened to you - because the Knights Errant were banned and everyone wanted to forget about them - well, the Knights Watchmen did, at least. You see, Oscar," Thursby turned back to him, holding out the metal shape, "The Magi have always kept themselves secret, but the Knights Errant believed that the whole world should have magic, that the Magi should use their power for the good of everyone, so that's what they set out to do..."
"It's a sort of play on words, you see," interrupted Ridley, "In legend a Knight Errant is a Knight who goes about, doing good, rescuing princesses and killing dragons, all that sort of thing, but to be 'errant' also means to be wrong - which is what we are, according to the laws of the Magi - all wrong."
"And proud of it," said Murray.
"And that's we're setting out to do, you see," continued Thursby, "We're going to break all the rules, and break all the rulers, and make magic free again: will you join us, Oscar: are you one of us?"
Oscar stared at the shape in Thursby's hand, and then at all the faces in the room, all staring at him, waiting for his decision. And there, at his feet, was the little black cat, who slowly closed her eyes and dipped her head in something like a nod. Oscar reached out and took the fob.
"Count me in," he said.
