The Ogre of Oglefort

She had infuriated the ancient creatures.

“There is no BUT,” screeched the First Norn.

“No BUT whatsoever,” yelled the Second.

“Not anywhere is there a BUT,” cackled the Third.

The bed shook with their rage.

“The others have failed the test,” they pronounced. “On you falls the Glory of the Task. You are the ogre-slayers.”

The room went dark. There was the eerie creak again as the great bed was wheeled away. And the party from Number 26 was left alone.

CHAPTER5THE BRIEFING

I think we need a nice cup of tea,” said the Hag when they returned from the meeting.

But even after three cups of tea and five slices of bread and butter in the kitchen of Number 26, they still felt terrible. One minute they had been looking forward to Mr. Barber’s Holiday Camp—and the next they were branded as ogre-slayers and given this appalling task.

“It’s because there’s a princess involved,” said Ulf gloomily. “That’s why the Norns appeared. Princesses always bring them out.”

The wizard was worrying about his mother.

“She won’t like it. She won’t like it at all,” he muttered.

“I don’t know how to slay things,” said the Hag in a worried voice. “It’s not what I do.”

Ivo put a hand on her arm.

“But think what an exciting adventure it’ll be. And we won’t only be slayers—we’ll be rescuers. Rescuing the princess has to be good.”

“Not for you, it doesn’t,” said the Hag sharply. She was still feeling very guilty because she had let Ivo become mixed up in something so dangerous. “You won’t be a slayer and you won’t be a rescuer; you’re going back to the Home first thing on Monday.”

“No I’m not,” began Ivo. “I’m a familiar and—”

But at that moment there was a loud pecking noise at the window, and looking up they saw, caught in the rays of the street lamp, a large black bird perched on the sill. The Hag was just going to open the window when the bird flew through the glass panes, circled the room, dropping evil-smelling black feathers, and settled with its unpleasant-looking feet on the butter.

“A harpy,” said Ulf, looking at the creature’s swiveling yellow eyes. Harpies are messengers from the Underworld and have to be taken seriously. “What can we do for you?”

The bird did not answer. Instead it opened its beak, let a piece of paper fall onto the table, and flew off again through the unopened window.

While the Hag scooped the butter into the trash can, Ulf read out the message.

In strange wavery letters it said:

ALDINGTON CRESCENT UNDERGROUND STATION—MIDNIGHT TONIGHT

Everyone looked at everyone else.

“That station’s been shut forever, since the end of the war,” said Ulf. “It was badly bombed, and the whole line’s been abandoned. We can’t go there.”

“But we have to,” said the Hag. “It’ll be the briefing, telling us what to do. You’ll have to wait here for us, Ivo. I’ll leave a night-light on and—”

“No!” Ivo’s voice was very strong. “You said you wanted a familiar and you’ve got a familiar. Familiars serve for life, I told you. I’m coming.”

“But—”

“Let the boy come,” said Ulf. “He’s too far into it now. On Monday he can go back.”

It was as the troll had said. The station entrance was sealed off by a great iron gate covered in rust. It looked as though it had been there forever.

“Well that’s that,” said the Hag. “We’d best be getting back while the buses are still running.”

But Ivo had gone up to the gate. He put a hand on the lock—just touching it—and now slowly, creakily, the gate began to open. Only a crack at first . . . then all the way.

“I don’t like this,” said the wizard. “I don’t like it at all.”

Nobody liked it, but keeping close together, they made their way down a flight of steps into a freezing and derelict ticket hall. The machines were wreathed in cobwebs; a torn poster said DIG FOR VICTORY, which was what people had been told to do in the war.

“This used to be the deepest underground station in London,” said Ulf.

They huddled together, wondering what to do next. Then a faint blue light came on above a sign which said TO THE TRAINS.

But of course there weren’t any trains. There hadn’t been any trains for years. The notice led to what seemed to be a hole in the wall but was actually the top of a curving concrete staircase.

“They want us to go down there,” said Ivo.

“But who are they?” There was no one to be seen.

They began to walk down the stone stairs and all the time it got colder and colder.

“I didn’t know there were so many stairs in the world,” said the Hag.

They reached the bottom at last and found themselves on a platform with a row of broken-down vending machines and some battered wooden benches. There was a smell of decay and oldness.

“Now what?” wondered the troll. “We can’t go any lower.”

And then, incredibly in this station which had been closed for years and years, they heard the sound of a train!

The sound came closer. The train appeared in the mouth of the tunnel. It slowed down but it did not stop. In the dim light inside the carriages sat rows of dark-clad specters, staring at the ground.