Soaring in over the gardens, Kitor had very nearly had heart-failure when he’d spotted Neil and Clara skating round the rink with Lewis Grant in tow. How they’d met, he didn’t know, but was quite sure it wasn’t by chance. He watched them with a sinking heart, for he knew that it was up to him to find out all about this boy who had been trying to get into the hill. It would be the first thing the MacArthur would want to know.
Magicians, however, are in a class of their own and are definitely not to be trifled with. Kitor, therefore, steeled himself grimly and it was with a fast-beating heart that he managed to sidle unnoticed up to the Grants while they sipped their warm drinks.
Now, although Casimir had been careful to hide himself from Neil and Clara, he couldn’t hide his presence from the world of magic. Kitor immediately sensed the strength of power emanating from Lewis and almost choked as recognition dawned.
He knew immediately who the magician inside Lewis was. Prince Casimir! Prince Casimir had returned!
The magician, however, seemed to sense that something was amiss and even as Kitor saw the boy’s head turn to look searchingly among the crowd, the crow scuttled hastily behind a pile of carrier bags, loaded with presents, and it was only when the three children took to the ice again and started skating round that he breathed a heartfelt sigh of relief. Casimir hadn’t seen him although he had suspected his presence. Shaking with fright, he fluttered into the trees and, cowering behind the thickest branch he could find, pondered his next move.
18. The MacArthurs’ Return
It was only when darkness fell and Princes Street Gardens closed for the night that Kitor swooped carefully from his perch and, keeping to the shadows, flew towards the dark bulk of Arthur’s Seat. He was well aware of the peril he was in and heaved a huge sigh of relief as he reached the hill for, had Casimir been aware of him, he was quite sure that a thunderbolt would have long since finished him off.
He flew to the shaft that the pigeons used to enter the hill and dropped thankfully down into the darkness below. At last, he was safe! Completely safe! No thunderbolt could reach him now, for the magic shield that the MacArthurs had put round the hill protected all within it.
As he flapped his wings at the bottom of the shaft, he suddenly realized that the hill was filled with light. Torches were burning everywhere and the cavern was full of people. The MacArthurs! Kitor could hardly believe his luck! They had returned!
Heads turned to look at him curiously as he flew towards the huge chair layered with banks of cushions that held the MacArthur himself. A small, but regal figure, the MacArthur sat, straight and imperious, in a red, fur-lined coat and long, black boots. This vaguely Russian outfit was topped by a fur hat that sported long, drooping flaps that covered his ears and a tartan scarf. Braziers were being lit throughout the cavern but the hill, empty for so long, was still bitterly cold and, despite his feathers, Kitor shivered.
The MacArthur watched as Kitor flew towards him and knew, just by looking at him, that the bird bore urgent news.
“Welcome back, MacArthur,” Kitor croaked, bowing low before collapsing weakly in a shaking heap of feathers.
Hamish and Jaikie put down the brazier they were carrying and strode up to where Kitor trembled pathetically in front of the MacArthur.
“What is it, Kitor?” Hamish asked, lifting an eyebrow at the MacArthur, who looked puzzled and shook his head. “What’s happened?”
“Prince Casimir!” the bird stuttered. “Prince Casimir has returned!”
There was a horrified silence. “Prince Casimir?” the MacArthur said, sitting up straight in complete disbelief, “but surely Prince Casimir is dead?”
Jaikie looked at Kitor, who, adjusting his ruffled feathers, was struggling to his feet. “Are you sure?” he asked, lifting the bird gently onto a cushion and gesturing to one of the men to light the brazier and bring it closer.
“It was Prince Casimir,” the crow said stubbornly. “I knew him at once.”
They looked at one another in consternation, believing him implicitly, for Kitor had once belonged to Casimir’s son, Prince Kalman. There was no way Kitor was going to mistake Casimir’s presence.
The MacArthur looked appalled. “Jaikie, you’d better go to Arthur’s cave and fetch Archie. He’ll need to be in on this!”
Archie and Arthur arrived together and when Archie had perched himself comfortably on the great dragon’s arm, Kitor poured out his story of how he had seen the boy on the hill trying to break through the protective shield and told them, too, of his exploits as the Shadow.
The MacArthurs looked at one another in amazement. “You must be joking, Kitor,” Archie said, looking absolutely thunderstruck. “Are you seriously trying to tell us that Casimir, Casimir of all people, is involved in saving people’s lives all over the country?”