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Pardigan. ‘I knew there must be magic stuff in that cabinet, but nothing like this.’ He reached out and touched the book, making sure not to move the knife. As he did so, something leapt from the hatchway above them and landed hissing on the table. The boys jumped back, Tarent banging his head on the lamp, Quint fell back onto a chest and Pardigan tripped over his own feet - all three gazed up at the table from the floor. There, standing over the book was a large grey cat - it stared intently at the three friends and paced slowly round the table.
    ‘What by the Source is…’ started Pardigan, but was stopped as both the blue stone on the knife, and the cat’s eyes glowed a bright flashing blue. ‘Whooww,’ cried Pardigan, falling back to the floor again.
    ‘Where did that come from?’ asked Quint, and the cat swivelled to regard him. It let out a loud ‘ Meow, ’ and sat beside the book, turning its attention from one to the other of the startled boys. As they stared at the cat, Loras stumbled back down the ladder.
    ‘We’re booked!’ he cried excitedly. ‘We leave in an hour.’ He walked over to the table and held out his hand. ‘Where did you get the cat?’ he asked happily. It stood up to let him to stroke it and pushed its head into his outstretched hand.
    The boys all got to their feet, glancing from Loras to the cat, which Loras had now picked up.
    ‘Can we keep it?’ he asked expectantly.
    ‘I think it may have already decided to keep us,’ said Quint, ‘...or you anyway. Just try your best to keep it under control and find out if it’s connected to the magic book, will you?’
    ‘Magic?’ exclaimed Loras. Tarent filled him in on what had just been happening and Loras was obviously impressed. ‘My own magic cat,’ he mused. He sat down and started talking quietly to the cat as Quint, Tarent and Pardigan took another look at the book. A slot in the book’s spine held the knife while it was read. As they hunched over trying their best to decipher the script, Pardigan glanced over at Loras.
    ‘I’m sure I’ve seen that cat before,’ he muttered.
    ‘Well it’s not likely that you’d forget something like that in a hurry,’ whispered Tarent, peering nervously over as it purred contentedly on Loras’s lap.
    They returned to the book, now held by Tarent. Running his hand over the cover, he passed his finger over the title then opened it. The other two waited expectantly.
    ‘Come on Tarent,’ urged Pardigan, ‘what does it say? Can you read it?
    ‘Oh my’ said Tarent, ‘oh my, oh my, oh my.’
    ****
     

    Chapter 3
    The Book O f Challenges
    Bartholomew Bask was never one to frequent the bars and coffee shops of the city; he’d always associated them all with riff raff and the general flotsam of humanity. It was therefore an uncomfortable Bartholomew Bask who found himself on the waterfront, at one of the least probable establishments that he might ever wish to visit.
    ‘Blake’s,’ Bartholomew muttered, scowling up at the sign that hung crookedly over the street. He shuddered and held a scented handkerchief over his nose. Casting a look about, more in case someone he knew saw him than from any worry of robbers or cutthroats, he entered and quickly scanned the room.
    It was past early evening and the place was filling up. Several groups were sat at tables, while others stood close to the serving counter, almost everyone seemed to be talking or shouting noisily. Several barmaids were working the tables, carrying tankards, bottles and trays of food. He stopped one long enough to whisper in her ear; she shook her head and nodded towards the bar.
    ‘Talk to Blake,’ she muttered - then she was gone, disappearing back into the crowd.
    Bartholomew made his way to the bar, excusing himself politely as he navigated his bulk through the crowd, which only made several people laugh and caused one toothless old woman to slap his backside.
    ‘Oh yer lordship, I’m so sorry,’ she