Charlie Bone and the Castle of Mirrors Read Online Free PDF Page A

haven't changed," said Lysander with a wide smile. "How do you like the second year?"
    "I don't know I'm in a bit of a jam. I keep going to the wrong place. I've lost my trumpet," said Charlie. "I'm in trouble with Manfred and there's an, er, um, thing in the garden."
    "What do you mean, a “thing'?" Tancred's blue eyes widened.
    Charlie told them about the horse Billy had seen in the sky and the hoofbeats in the garden.
    "Interesting," said Lysander.
    "Ominous," said Tancred. "I don't like the sound of it." The sleeves of his shirt quivered. It was difficult for Tancred to hide his endowment. He was like a walking weather vane, his moods affecting the air around him to such an extent that you could say he had his own personal weather.
    "I'd better keep looking for my trumpet," said Charlie. "Oh, what's the last line of the hall rules?"
    "Be you small or tall," said Lysander quickly
    "Thanks, Sander. I've got to write the whole thing out a hundred times before dinner and give it to Manfred — if I can find his office. You don't happen to know where it is, do you?"
    Tancred shook his head and Lysander said, "Not a clue."
    Charlie was about to return the way he'd come when Tancred suggested he try somewhere else. "Through there," said Tancred, indicating a door at the end of the sculpture studio. "The new children are having their first art lesson. I think I saw one carrying a trumpet."
    "Thanks, Tanc!" Charlie walked into a room he'd never seen before. About fifteen silent children sat around a long table, sketching. Each had a large sheet of paper and an object in front of them. They were all concentrating fiercely on their work, and none of them looked up when Charlie appeared.
    "What do you want?" A thin, fair-haired man with freckles spoke from the end of the table. A new art teacher, Charlie presumed.
    "My trumpet, sir," said Charlie.
    “And why do you think it's here?" asked the teacher.
    "Because there it is!" Charlie had just spotted a trumpet exactly like his. The instrument was being sketched by a small boy with mousy hair and ears that stuck out. The boy looked up at Charlie.
    "Joshua Tilpin," said the teacher, "where did you get that trumpet?"
    "It's mine, Mr. Delf." Joshua Tilpin had small pale-gray eyes. He half-closed them and wrinkled his nose at Charlie.
    Charlie couldn't stop himself He leaped forward, seized the trumpet, and turned it over. Last semester he had scratched a tiny "cb" near the mouthpiece. The trumpet was his. "It's got my initials on it, sir."
    "Let me see." Mr. Delf held out his hand.
    Charlie handed over the trumpet. "My name's Charlie Bone, sir. See, they're my initials."
    "You shouldn't deface musical instruments like this. But it does appear to be yours. Joshua Tilpin, why did you lie?"
    Everyone looked at Joshua. He didn't turn red, as Charlie would have expected. Instead, he gave a huge grin, revealing a row of small, uneven teeth. "Sorry, sir. Realty really sorry Charlie. Only a joke. Forgive me, please!"
    Neither Charlie nor the teacher knew how to reply to this. Mr. Delf passed the trumpet to Charlie, saying, “You'd better get back to your class."
    "Thank you, sir." Charlie clutched his trumpet and turned to the door. He took a good look at Joshua Tilpin as he went. He had an odd feeling that the new boy was endowed. Joshua's sleeves and hair were covered with scraps of paper and tiny bits of eraser. I Even as Charlie watched, a broken pencil lead suddenly leaped off the table and attached itself to the boy's thumb. He gave Charlie a sly grin and flicked it off. Charlie felt as though an invisible thread were tugging him toward the strange boy
    He quickly left the room, and the thread was broken.
    The sculpture studio rang with the sound of steel on stone. Tancred and Lysander weren't the only ones chipping away at lumps of rock. Charlie flourished his trumpet in the air. "Got it," he sang out.
    "Knew it," said Tancred.
    Charlie's next priority was the hundred lines. Where should