Septimus Heap_ Magyk Part 40

EXCERPT FROM.

SEPTIMUS HEAP.

BOOK FIVE.

Syren

PROLOGUE:.

A CROSSING OF P PATHS.

It is Nicko's first night out of the House of Foryx, and Jenna thinks he is going a little crazy. out of the House of Foryx, and Jenna thinks he is going a little crazy.

Some hours previously, on Nicko's insistence, Septimus and Spit Fyre took Jenna, Nicko, Snorri, Ullr and Beetle to the Trading Post-a long string of harbors on the edge of the land where the House of Foryx lies hidden. Nicko had been desperate to see the sea once more, and no one, not even Marcia, felt able to refuse.

Septimus objected a little more than anyone else. He knew his dragon was tired after the long flight from the Castle to the House of Foryx, and they both faced a long journey home with the dangerously ill Ephaniah Grebe. But Nicko was adamant. He had had to go to-of all places-a ramshackle net loft on Harbor Number Three, which was one of the smaller harbors on the Trading Post and used mainly by local fishing boats. Nicko told them that the net loft belonged to the bosun on the ship that he and Snorri had sailed on all those years in the past, bound from the Port to the Trading Post. In mid-crossing Nicko had saved the ship from catastrophe by doing an emergency repair of a broken mast, and in grat.i.tude the bosun, a Mr. Higgs, had given Nicko a key to his net loft and insisted that anytime Nicko was in the Trading Post he could-indeed to go to-of all places-a ramshackle net loft on Harbor Number Three, which was one of the smaller harbors on the Trading Post and used mainly by local fishing boats. Nicko told them that the net loft belonged to the bosun on the ship that he and Snorri had sailed on all those years in the past, bound from the Port to the Trading Post. In mid-crossing Nicko had saved the ship from catastrophe by doing an emergency repair of a broken mast, and in grat.i.tude the bosun, a Mr. Higgs, had given Nicko a key to his net loft and insisted that anytime Nicko was in the Trading Post he could-indeed must must-stay there.

When Septimus pointed out that that was five hundred years ago and the offer may not still stand-let alone the net loft-Nicko had told Septimus that of course of course it still stood, an offer was an offer. All he wanted, Nicko said, was to be near boats once more, to hear the sea again, and to smell the salt in the air. Septimus argued no further. How could he-or any of the others-refuse Nicko that? it still stood, an offer was an offer. All he wanted, Nicko said, was to be near boats once more, to hear the sea again, and to smell the salt in the air. Septimus argued no further. How could he-or any of the others-refuse Nicko that?

And so, with some misgivings, Septimus left them at the end of the dingy alleyway that Nicko insisted contained Mr. Higgs's net loft. Septimus and Spit Fyre had returned to a snowy tree house near the House of Foryx where Ephaniah Grebe, Marcia and Sarah Heap waited to take them back to the Castle.

However, after Septimus's departure, all had not gone well at the net loft. Nicko-surprised to find that his key would not fit-had to break in, and no one was impressed with what met them inside. It stank. It was also dark, damp, cold and, apparently, used as the local fish garbage dump, judging by the pile of rotting fish heaped up below the small, unglazed window. There was, as Jenna irritably pointed out, nowhere to sleep because most of the top two floors were missing, allowing a fine view of a large hole in the roof, which the local seagull population was apparently using as a toilet. Even so, Nicko remained undeterred. But when Beetle fell through the rotten floor and was left dangling by his belt over a cellar full of unidentifiable slime, there was a rebellion.

Which is why we now find Jenna, Nicko, Snorri, Ullr and Beetle standing outside a seedy cafe on Harbor Number One-the nearest place to eat. They are looking at scrawls on a chalkboard offering three varieties of fish, something called Pot Luck Stew and a steak from an animal that no one has ever heard of.

Jenna says she doesn't care what the animal is as long as it is not Foryx. Nicko says he doesn't care either-he will have one of everything. He is, he says, hungry for the first time in five hundred years. No one can argue with that.

And no one in the cafe argues with them either, quite possibly because of the large, green-eyed panther that follows the tall blonde girl like a shadow and emits a low, rumbling growl if anyone comes near. Jenna is very glad of Ullr's company- the cafe is a menacing place full of sailors, fishermen and a.s.sorted traders, all of whom notice the group of four teenagers sitting at the table by the door. Ullr keeps people at bay, but the panther cannot stop the endless, uncomfortable stares.

All choose the Pot Luck Stew, with which, as Beetle observes, they do not strike lucky. Nicko proceeds to do as he threatened and eats his way through the entire menu. They watch Nicko demolish numerous plates of odd-shaped fish garnished with a variety of seaweed and a thick red steak with white bristles on its rind, which he feeds to Ullr after one mouthful. Nicko is at last eating his final dish-a long white fish with a lot of tiny bones and a reproachful stare. Jenna, Beetle and Snorri have just finished a communal bowl of harbor dessert-baked apples sprinkled with sweet crumble and covered with chocolate sauce. Jenna is feeling queasy. All she really wants to do is lie down, and even a pile of damp fishing nets in a smelly net loft will do. She does not notice that the whole cafe has fallen quiet and all are looking at an unusually richly clad merchant who has just walked in. The merchant scans the shadowy interior, not seeing who he expects to see-but then he does see someone he most definitely does not not expect to see-his daughter. expect to see-his daughter.

"Jenna!" shouts Milo Banda. "What on earth are you doing here here?"

Jenna jumps to her feet. "Milo!" she gasps. "But what are you you doing here . . ." Her voice trails off. Jenna is thinking that actually, this is doing here . . ." Her voice trails off. Jenna is thinking that actually, this is exactly exactly the kind of place she would expect to find her father-one full of odd people, with an air of suspicious deals and suppressed menace. the kind of place she would expect to find her father-one full of odd people, with an air of suspicious deals and suppressed menace.

Milo pulls up a chair and sits with them. He wants to know everything-why they are there, how they got there and where they are staying. Jenna refuses to explain. It is Nicko's story to tell, not hers, and she does not want the whole cafe listening in-as they surely are.

Milo insists on paying the bill and ushers them out onto the busy quayside.

"I cannot imagine why you are here," he says disapprovingly. "You must not stay here a moment longer. It is not suitable. These are not the kind of people you should be mixing with, Jenna."

Jenna does not answer. She refrains from pointing out that Milo was obviously happy to mix with them.

Milo continues. "The Trading Post is not a place for babes in arms-"

"We are not not-" Jenna protests.

"As near as. You will all come to my ship."

Jenna does not like being told what she must do, even though the thought of a warm bed for the night is extremely tempting.

"No, thank you, Milo," she says frostily.

"What do you mean?" says Milo, incredulous. "I refuse to allow you to roam around this place at night on your own."

"We are not roaming roaming-" Jenna begins but is cut short by Nicko.

"What kind of ship?" he asks.

"A barkentine," Milo replies.

"We'll come," says Nicko.

And so it is decided they will spend the night on Milo's ship. Jenna is relieved, though she does not show it. Beetle is relieved and shows it. A big grin spreads across his face, and even Snorri has a faint smile as she follows in Milo's wake, Ullr at her heels.

Milo leads them around to the back of the cafe, through a door in a wall and into a dark alleyway, which runs along the back of the bustling harbors. It is a shortcut used by many in the day, but at night most prefer to stay under the bright lights of the harbors-unless there is secret business to be done. They are no more than a few yards along the alley when a shadowy figure comes rushing toward them. Milo steps in front of the figure, blocking his path.

"You are late," he growls.

"I-I am sorry," says the man. "I-" He stops to catch his breath.

"Yes?" says Milo impatiently.

"We have it."

"You do do? It is intact?"

"Yes, yes it is."

"No one has discovered you?" Milo sounds worried. "Er, no, sir. No one. Not-not anyone, sir, and that's the truth, honestly, sir, it is."

"All right, all right, I believe you. How long until arrival?"

"Tomorrow, sir."

Milo nods approval and hands the man a small purse of coins. "For your trouble. The rest on delivery. Safe and undetected undetected delivery." delivery."

"Thank you, sir." The man bows and is gone, melting into the shadows.

Milo surveys his intrigued audience. "Just a bit of business. Something rather special rather special for my princess." He smiles fondly at Jenna. for my princess." He smiles fondly at Jenna.

Jenna half smiles back. She kind of likes the way Milo is- and she kind of doesn't. It is most confusing.

But by the time they arrive at Milo's ship, the Cerys Cerys, Jenna is less confused-the Cerys Cerys is the most wonderful ship she has ever seen, and even Nicko has to admit it is better than a stinky net loft. is the most wonderful ship she has ever seen, and even Nicko has to admit it is better than a stinky net loft.

1.

PROMOTION.

Septimus Heap, ExtraOrdinary Apprentice, was woken up by his House Mouse leaving a note on his pillow. Blearily he opened his eyes and, with a sense of relief, remembered where he was-back in his bedroom at the top of the Wizard Tower, Queste completed. And then he remembered that Jenna, Nicko, Snorri and Beetle were still not home. Septimus sat up, suddenly awake. Today, no matter what Marcia said, he was going to go and bring them back. woken up by his House Mouse leaving a note on his pillow. Blearily he opened his eyes and, with a sense of relief, remembered where he was-back in his bedroom at the top of the Wizard Tower, Queste completed. And then he remembered that Jenna, Nicko, Snorri and Beetle were still not home. Septimus sat up, suddenly awake. Today, no matter what Marcia said, he was going to go and bring them back.

Septimus sat up, picked up the note and brushed a couple of mouse droppings off his pillow. He carefully unfolded the tiny piece of paper and read: FROM THE DESK OF.

MARCIA OVERSTRAND.

EXTRAORDINARY WIZARDSeptimus, I would very much like to see you at midday in my study.

I hope that is convenient for you.

Marcia Septimus let out a low whistle. Even though he had been Marcia's Apprentice for nearly three years, he had never had an appointment with her before. If Marcia wished to speak to Septimus, she would interrupt whatever he was doing and speak to him. Septimus would have to stop what he was doing right away right away and and listen listen.

But today, his second day back from the Queste, it seemed that something had changed. As Septimus read the note again, just to make sure, the distant chimes of the Drapers Yard clock drifted through his window. He counted them- eleven-and breathed a sigh of relief. It would not be good to be late for his first-ever appointment with Marcia. Septimus had slept late, but that was on Marcia's instructions; she had also told him that he did not have to clean the Library that morning. Septimus looked at the rainbow-colored beam of sunlight filtering through the purple gla.s.s in his window and shook his head with a smile-he could get used to this.

An hour later, dressed in a new set of green Apprentice robes that had been left out in his room for him, Septimus knocked politely on Marcia's door.

"Come in, Septimus." Marcia's voice drifted through the thick oak door. Septimus pushed open the creaky door and stepped inside. Marcia's study was a small wood-paneled room with a large desk set under the window and a fuzz of Magyk in the air that set Septimus's skin tingling. It was lined with shelves on which were crammed moth-eaten leather-bound books, stacks of yellowing papers tied with purple ribbons and a myriad of brown and black gla.s.s pots that contained ancient things even Marcia was not sure what to do with. Among the pots Septimus saw his brother Simon's pride and joy-a wooden box with Sleuth Sleuth written on it in Simon's loopy Heap handwriting. Septimus could not help but glance out of the tall, narrow window. He loved the view from Marcia's study- a breathtaking vista across the rooftops of the Castle to the river and beyond that to the green slopes of the Farmlands. Far, far in the distance he could see the misty blue line of the foothills of the Badlands. written on it in Simon's loopy Heap handwriting. Septimus could not help but glance out of the tall, narrow window. He loved the view from Marcia's study- a breathtaking vista across the rooftops of the Castle to the river and beyond that to the green slopes of the Farmlands. Far, far in the distance he could see the misty blue line of the foothills of the Badlands.

Marcia was sitting behind her desk in her much-worn-but very comfortable-tall purple chair. She looked fondly at her Apprentice, who was unusually well turned out, and smiled.

"Good afternoon, Septimus," she said. "Do sit down." Marcia indicated the smaller but equally comfortable green chair on the other side of the desk. "I hope you slept well?"

Septimus took his seat. "Yes, thank you," he replied a little warily. Why was Marcia being so nice nice?

"You've had a difficult week, Septimus," Marcia began. "Well, we all have. It is very good to have you back. I have something for you." She opened a small drawer, took out two purple silk ribbons and laid them on the desk.

Septimus knew what the ribbons were-the purple stripes of a Senior Apprentice, which, if his Apprenticeship went well, he would get to wear in his final year. It was nice of Marcia to let him know that she would make him a Senior Apprentice when the time came, he thought, but his final year was a long way off, and Septimus knew only too well that a lot could go wrong before then.

"Do you know what these are?" Marcia asked.

Septimus nodded.

"Good. They are yours. I am making you Senior Apprentice."

"What, now now?"

Marcia smiled broadly. "Yes, now."

"Now? Like, today today?"

"Yes, Septimus, today. I trust the ends of your sleeves are still clean. You didn't get any egg on them at breakfast, did you?"

Septimus inspected his sleeves. "No, they're fine."

Marcia stood up and so did Septimus-an Apprentice must never sit when his tutor is standing. Marcia picked up the ribbons and placed them on the hems of Septimus's bright green sleeves. In a puff of Magykal purple mist, the ribbons curled themselves around the hems of the sleeves and became part of his tunic. Septimus stared at them, amazed. He didn't know what to say. But Marcia did.

"Now, Septimus, you need to know a little about the rights and duties of a Senior Apprentice. You may determine fifty percent of your own projects and also your main timetable-within reason, of course. You may be asked to deputize for me at the basic-level Wizard Tower meetings-for which, incidentally, I would be very grateful. As Senior Apprentice, you may come and go without asking my permission, although it is considered courteous to inform me where you are going and at what time you intend to return. But as you are still so young, I would add that I do require you to be back in the Wizard Tower by nine P.M P.M. on weekdays-midnight at the latest latest on special occasions-understood?" on special occasions-understood?"

Still gazing at the Magykal purple stripes shimmering on the ends of his sleeves, Septimus nodded. "Understood . . . I think . . . but why . . . ?"

"Because," Marcia said, "you are the only Apprentice ever ever to return from the Queste. Not only did you return to return from the Queste. Not only did you return alive alive, but you returned having successfully completed it. And-even more incredible-you were sent on this . . . this terrible thing before you had even gotten halfway through your Apprenticeship- and you still still did it. You used your Magykal skills to better effect than many Wizards in this Tower could ever hope to do. This is why you are now Senior Apprentice. Okay?" did it. You used your Magykal skills to better effect than many Wizards in this Tower could ever hope to do. This is why you are now Senior Apprentice. Okay?"

"Okay." Septimus smiled. "But . . ."

"But what?"

"I couldn't have done the Queste without Jenna and Beetle. And they're still stuck in that smelly little net loft in the Trading Post. So are Nicko and Snorri. We promised promised to go right back for them." to go right back for them."

"And we will," Marcia replied. "I am sure they did not expect us to turn around and fly back immediately, Septimus. Besides, I haven't had a moment since we returned. This morning I was up early getting some ghastly potion from Zelda for Ephaniah and Hildegarde-both of whom are still very sick. I need to keep an eye on Ephaniah tonight, but I shall set off on Spit Fyre first thing tomorrow morning to collect them all. They'll be back very soon, I promise."

Septimus looked at his purple ribbons, which had a beautiful Magykal sheen, like oil on water. He remembered Marcia's words: "As Senior Apprentice, you may come and go without asking my permission, although it is considered courteous to inform me where you are going and at what time you intend to return." "As Senior Apprentice, you may come and go without asking my permission, although it is considered courteous to inform me where you are going and at what time you intend to return."

"I shall get them," he said, swiftly getting into Senior Apprentice mode.

"No, Septimus," Marcia replied, already forgetting that she was now talking to a Senior Senior Apprentice. "It is far too risky, and you are tired after the Queste. You need to rest. Apprentice. "It is far too risky, and you are tired after the Queste. You need to rest. I I shall go." shall go."

"Thank you for your offer, Marcia," Septimus said, a trifle formally, in the way he thought Senior Apprentices probably should speak. "However, I intend to go myself. I shall be setting off on Spit Fyre in just over an hour's time. I shall return the day after tomorrow evening by midnight, as this can reasonably be cla.s.sified, I think, as a special occasion."

"Oh." Marcia wished she hadn't informed Septimus quite so fully on the rights of a Senior Apprentice. She sat down and regarded Septimus with a thoughtful look. Her new Senior Apprentice seemed to have grown up suddenly. His bright green eyes had a newly confident air as they steadily returned her gaze, and-yes, she had known something was different the moment he had walked in-he had combed his hair combed his hair.

"Shall I come and see you off?" Marcia asked quietly.

"Yes, please," Septimus replied. "That would be very nice. I'll be down at the dragon field in just under an hour." At the study door he stopped and turned. "Thank you, Marcia," he said with a broad grin. "Thank you very much indeed."

Marcia returned his smile and watched her Senior Apprentice walk out of her study with a new spring in his step.

2.

KEEPER'S C COTTAGE It was a bright, bl.u.s.tery spring day in the Marram Marshes. The wind had blown away the early-morning mist and was sending small white clouds scudding high across the sky. The air was chilly; it smelled of sea salt, mud and burned cabbage soup. spring day in the Marram Marshes. The wind had blown away the early-morning mist and was sending small white clouds scudding high across the sky. The air was chilly; it smelled of sea salt, mud and burned cabbage soup.

In the doorway of a small stone cottage a gangly boy with long, matted hair was pulling a backpack onto his broad shoulders. Helping him was what appeared to be a voluminous patchwork quilt.