Amethyst (19 page)

Copper sat down on the bench. She rubbed her eyes. ‘Their lives depend on you, Copper, believe me,’ said Granite. ‘I have this craving for gold. Gold! This urgent desire to feel gold beneath my hands …’ He rubbed his hands together. ‘As soon as I see some, just a few
glittering, gleaming strands, I will release your friends. You’ll all go free.’

Copper clamped her lips together. She scowled at him. ‘You are beneath contempt!’ she said coldly. ‘I refuse …’

‘Then I must take Ralick away from you,’ said Shane. He strode towards her.

‘And they …’ Granite nodded towards the ceiling. ‘They will die. A shame, but your choice, Copper.’

Copper groaned. ‘You beasts! Monsters! I don’t have any choice, do I? All right, all right. Give me some needles. I’ll try.’

Granite burst into hoarse laughter and slapped her cheerily on the shoulder. ‘That’s the spirit, girl!’

‘Don’t touch me!’

‘There we are! Sure, and I told you she’d do it,’ said Shane. He was gleaming with pleasure. ‘The dear little girl that she is.’

‘Oh, shut up!’ Copper said.

They went down to a lower floor and stopped outside a very big, almost square, metal door. ‘This is it,’ croaked Granite.

He took a large iron key from his belt and opened the door. This did not reveal a room, but a stone wall. Granite took another key from the cluster at his waist and quickly slipped it into a square hole in the wall – it was not a wall, but a door made of stone. There was a deep, solid-sounding ‘clunk’ and the door opened very slowly outwards, grinding against the floor.

‘Come in, come in.’

He led them into a small room, illuminated by only one high, round window. Shane came in, shining. He lit up the veins of red and gold in the walls so they looked like dripping molten metal.

Copper walked over to a big desk in the centre of the room. Amy followed her. The desk was vast. It was made of glossy purple-black marble. On it lay a large chunk of craggy blue rock. Beside that lay a pair of silver knitting needles.

Copper shivered. ‘It’s madness,’ she said, looking from the needles to the rock. ‘You can’t really think I could make gold.’

‘Not
make
it,’ Granite corrected her, ‘but find it. Coax it out of the rock. You can sense it – a million microscopic molecules – and draw it out. I know you can. Your mother could.’

‘But I’m not her!’

‘Close enough,’ said Shane. ‘From what I can see.’

‘Oh, this is stupid!’ Copper snapped. ‘Of course I can’t. Anyway, Amber is pure Rock and I’m not. Remember? I’m Copper Beech, half-Wood, half-Rock.’

‘I remember,’ said Granite, darkly.

Copper put Ralick down on the chair. He opened his eyes briefly, then curled up and slept again.

She put her hand on the lump of rock. Amy watched her. Copper looked up at the three pairs of eyes watching her. ‘I’ll try,’ she said, ‘but not with you watching. You have to leave me alone.’

‘I don’t think—’ began Shane.

‘She’s right,’ said Granite. ‘It isn’t easy. Wasn’t easy for Amber. We’ll give you time alone. But I warn you, Copper,’ he added, glowering at her from beneath his beetle brows, ‘your friends don’t have much time left.’

Granite pushed Amy out of the room. Shane followed. The heavy stone door slipped into place, then the metal door clanged shut. The key turned loudly in the lock.

Copper was a prisoner.

Copper picked up Ralick and felt tenderly all over his body for broken limbs or damage. ‘Dear, dear Ralick. Are you all right? Can you hear me? Your poor little legs …’

Ralick lifted his head to Copper’s face. He licked her chin.

‘I’m worse than I look,’ he said, very faintly.

‘What do you mean?’

‘That was a joke.’ He chuckled, weakly. ‘I’m good, now I’m with you. Dear Copper.’

She hugged him fiercely. ‘They’ve got Questrid and Wolfgang. They think I can make gold. And Amy’s not quite what we thought …’

‘What
you
thought. Of course my instincts are sharper than a razor.’

‘But I didn’t believe you.’

‘Amy’s not all bad. She set me free.’

‘And you’re really OK?’

‘Never been better.’

‘Oh, Ralick, dear!’ Copper stroked his head and ears. She kissed the top of his nose. ‘Now all I have to do is find gold in this.’

‘Easy,’ he said softly, yawning. ‘Even I could do it.’

‘I must think gold. Gold. Gold!’

‘Except—’

‘What?’

‘If you find it, if you
can
do it, you’ll never get free. Granite’ll never let you go. He’ll lock you up, like he did Amber. You’ll never see Spindle House again …’

‘Perhaps …’ said Copper. ‘But if I don’t, Questrid and Wolfgang will die. So might you. I have no choice …’

Copper closed her eyes and pressed her palms either side of the chunk of cold rock.

She tried to picture the millions of particles of gold inside, the way Granite had described it. First, it was like picturing the sky, studded with brilliant diamond stars. The stars gradually diminished into the tiniest pinpricks of golden light. Then, behind her eyelids, the particles began to whirl and whizz around, as if stirred by an invisible, giant spoon. The dots crashed against each other, coalescing, sticking together into long strands of shimmering beads … The rock was hot. Her hands were hot. Her heart raced. Suddenly she felt a gushing river of hot yellowness streaming through her fingers. Her eyes flew open: ‘Oh, no!’

‘I suppose that means you thought some,’ said Ralick.

Copper nodded.

Ralick’s ears went down sadly. ‘Hidden talents, Copper …’

Copper picked up the knitting needles and poked the end of the left one experimentally into the rock. Immediately, a strand of gold slithered out. It was like a long skinny metallic worm. It wrapped itself round her needle. Her right needle did the same. More and more gold came spilling out of the rock. She knitted it so quickly, sparks flew.

‘Oh, my golly, Ralick, look! It’s magic …’

The gold thread looped itself round the needles. The needles clacked and clicked against each other. The thread knitted itself into a delicate fabric in a beautiful, complicated stitch she’d never seen before. Soon she’d knitted a large square of gold. It lay on the desk, like a gleaming piece of finest gold leaf.

‘Stop now,’ said Ralick quietly.

Copper went on knitting.

‘Stop now.’

‘Look at it! Look at it, Ralick, I can do it! I can make gold. We’ll be rich! We’ll take it all back to Spindle House and we’ll be so rich. We can have everything we want—’

‘Stop!’ Ralick caught the end of the needle in his teeth and tugged. It clattered to the floor, breaking off a long strand of gold thread. The gold thread lay across the desk like a long, thick, golden hair.

Copper stopped, hands held mid-air, breathing hard.

‘Yuck!’ she said at last. She dropped the other needle. She wiped her hands down her trousers as if they were contaminated. ‘Thanks, Ralick. That wasn’t nice. You’d
think it would feel good to make gold, but it’s awful.’ She shook her head and licked her lips, trying to dispel the taste, the sensation of it. ‘I feel as if I’ve eaten metal,’ she said. ‘I smell. Like I’ve held a thousand pennies in my hot, sweaty hands. Ugh, I’m dirty. I’m—’

‘Shh! What’s that?’

There was a sudden rasping noise; someone was trying to unlock the outer door.

‘Them already?’ she jumped up in alarm. ‘No!’

The metal door swung open with a whine and a groan. Through it they heard Amy’s muffled voice.

‘It’s me, can you hear me? Copper?’

‘Phew – it’s only her. Yes. I can hear you.’

‘I came back! I opened the door with your crochet hook, Copper,’ said Amy. ‘But the other door, the stone one, how do I get through that?’

‘Are you sure you want to?’ said Copper.

‘Oh, Copper, don’t hate me, don’t,’ said Amy. ‘I’m not all bad, honestly. Let me explain … I’ve come to help – only I can’t open this stone door.’

‘She sounds as if she means it,’ whispered Copper.

Ralick nodded. ‘We’ve nothing – except this prison – to lose.’

‘He had a small stone key,’ said Copper. ‘I wasn’t really watching, but it looked like a sort of square, with holes in it on the end of a stick – like a square lolly.’

Copper and Ralick could hear Amy’s hands flickering over the door, as if a group of mice were scampering over it. She was searching for the right gap in the stone blocks.

‘Found the place, but of course no key.’

‘I’ll be back!’ Amy called out. She ran to her room. ‘Don’t worry!’

The white rat was inside her jerkin. She put her hand over him so he wouldn’t fall out. ‘All right, Rat? Got to get a key. A key for stone.’

She had a plan. She still had the tool set her Uncle John had given her. It was in her room. She could make a key with those tools. But she needed something to make a key out of … metal would take too long. A soft stone would be perfect … There! A small stone statue of a woman carrying a large fish. Her arms were raised above her head as if she were showing the fish to someone. ‘That’ll do, Rat,’ said Amy. ‘The fish is just about the size of that hole.’

‘Eek, psss.’

‘And it’s soft, easy to carve … Let’s go.’

She scuttled back to Copper’s prison.

The keyhole looked square-shaped on the outside, but when she pushed her fingers into it, she found indentations and hollows on the inside. It was a complicated lock.

‘We have to get Copper out of there. Here goes, Rat.’ Amy started filing the stone figure to make the key shape. She kept alert for approaching footsteps. She dug and chiselled and cut it.

‘Nearly there, Copper. Almost done.’

The rat helped too. He put his nose and whiskers into the keyhole to see more clearly what it was like inside. Then he backed out, squeaking and nodding excitedly, pointing with his nose at where Amy was to make changes to the key.

‘Oh,
in
there and out
there
? I see!’ Amy said. She honed the stone key. She rubbed and smoothed it until the lollipop shape was covered in zigzag lines and hollows. Finally when she had ground down a sharp corner on the key, it felt right.

‘Done it!’ She turned the key in the lock. There was the sound of levers tumbling and falling. A mechanism whirring. When she heaved on the heavy door, it swung open.

Amy ran into the room. ‘We did it … Oh, whoah!’

The gold knitting lay gleaming on the desk like a pool of golden syrup.

‘Copper! You’ve made it! Fantastic! Gold! You can do it!’

‘No.’

‘But Copper, you can!’ Amy pulled the doors closed
behind her, enough to block out their voices, but not enough for the locks to click shut. ‘You’ll be rich. Gold out of rock. Whenever you want. All day long. Your world has just changed. This is fantastic!’

Copper shivered. ‘I don’t want it to change. I hate the stuff, Amy, I hate it! My mum didn’t want the gift of knitting gold and nor do I. That’s why she hid my needles, I understand now … If Granite sees this I’ll be a prisoner like she was, knitting gold, hour after hour after hour. Amy, if you’re my friend, help me!’

Amy took a deep breath. ‘I am your friend. But, well, I’m truly impressed. Such stuff!’ She picked up the gold knitting. It was like the fragments Copper had knitted from Shane’s cobweb thread. It was silky, floating and delicate. She tugged it between her hands. ‘It’s strong as iron!’

‘Will you just forget about the gold,’ said Copper. ‘Let’s go.’

‘Yes, but listen,’ said Amy, grabbing Copper’s arm. ‘I thought of something. They want you. So if you were wearing my clothes and I was wearing yours, you’d stand a better chance of escape.’

Copper looked doubtful.

‘Listen. Listen. I’m sorry I helped Granite,’ said Amy. ‘I can see you don’t trust me. But, truly, I don’t want to spoil everything, Copper, and only be known for that. Believe me. Everyone always told me how horrible the Wood Clan people are and that’s what I wanted to believe. But you’re not. You’re just like us Rockers, only different.’

‘Of course we are.’

‘I trust her, Copper,’ said Ralick. ‘She means well. She wants to put things right.’