Free Charlie Bone and the Wilderness Wolf (Children of the Red King, Book 6) by Jenny Nimmo Page B

best kettle was behind the scenes," Mrs. Kettle said softly.
    "THAT'S your best kettle?" Charlie moved closer to the blackened thing.
    "Oh, yes, by far." Mrs. Kettle spoke so quietly Charlie could barely hear her, and yet he sensed her excitement. "It was made by my ancestor Feromel more than five hundred years ago. Feromel was a blacksmith and a magician. He made many magical iron pots. Goodness knows where they are now." She came and stood directly behind Charlie. "You're a traveler, aren't you, Charlie? I wondered if you would feel it."
    "Feel it?" Charlie ran his hand over the charred, rusty-looking handle. The lid had a round polished knob in the center. Charlie gently lifted it. He gazed into a circle of dark liquid. "It's full," he said.
    "It's always full," said Mrs. Kettle. "Always. It can't be emptied. It can only boil dry. But the day when that happens will be the end ..."
    Billy crept up to them. "The end of what?"
    "The world?" Charlie's gaze was held by the smooth black water.
    "The end of a life," said Mrs. Kettle. "Put the lid back, Charlie, and take it with you."
    "Me?" Charlie quickly replaced the lid. "It's yours, Mrs. Kettle. I can't take it."
    "Just for a while," she said gently. You must, Charlie. Feromel would want you to."
    "But why?" Charlie stared at the round, black thing, his hands at his sides, his fingers twitching anxiously. He didn't want the ancient kettle with its ability to foretell a death. How many lives had been lost, he wondered, while it boiled away, merrily, in dark, smokey places, poisoning the air with its sinister steam.
    "It's not a bad thing, Charlie." Mrs. Kettle lifted her precious heirloom and held it out to Charlie. And then his tingling fingers had closed around the handle.
    "I hope it will never boil dry for you, Charlie," said Mrs. Kettle. "These are dangerous times for people like you, especially with that fish boy around, so it's bound to get warm. It has no need of a stove. It will sit wherever you want. If there is a hint of danger in the air it will heat up. The hotter it gets, the more you will need to look out for yourself." She smiled at everyone. "Now get along with you, my dears. And I'll keep an eye on the fish shop."
    They thanked Mrs. Kettle for the tea and, a few moments later, Charlie found himself walking down Piminy Street with a black kettle swinging from his hand.
    At the end of the street, they turned a corner and ran straight into Emma and Olivia, with two very small children.
    "Oh, no, not Charlie Bone," said Olivia, and she ran off in the direction of High Street.

7
    A STONE TROLL
     
    Olivia was starting to annoy Charlie. "Why did she flounce off like that?" he said.
    Emma gave him a sulky look. "Why do you think?"
    Charlie was exasperated. "She can't believe I said those things about her. Dagbert made it up. He lied. YOU didn't believe him, did you, Emma?"
    "Well... ," she said awkwardly. "I always believe it when people say I... don't look nice, or I'm stupid, or..."
    "You shouldn't, you stu -" Charlie stopped himself. "I mean you mustn't."
    "Dagbert lies all the time," said Billy.
    "He called Billy a freak," added Benjamin.
    "And Billy wasn't upset," said Charlie.
    "I was," muttered Billy.
    Charlie pretended he hadn't heard. "And I really like the way you're doing your hair, Em."
    Emma looked more cheerful. She almost smiled. "I'll explain it all to Liv. She's very sensitive about her appearance. But, to tell the truth, I think she enjoys a bit of drama. She'll soon get bored with being angry, and then she'll act like it never happened."
    "I hope it's soon," said Charlie.
    The small boy by Emma's side had been staring at the black kettle. He suddenly said, "What's that?"
    "This?" Charlie swung the kettle self-consciously. "It's just an old kettle I'm borrowing."
    "Very, very, very old," the boy observed.
    Emma cried, "I'm sorry, I forgot! These are your cousins, Charlie."
    "You mean Great-aunt Venetia's... children?" Charlie began to take an