SandRider (15 page)

Dandra clutched Ptolemy to herself. “He is
my
tortoise,” she said.

Tod and Septimus exchanged glances. The feud went deep.

Dandra continued. “The child clearly has access to a
sorcerer, probably more than one. The Red City is riddled with them; they all vie to serve the Red Queen. Septimus, I am so sorry. I told Marcia my history and I should have told you, too. I have brought danger to your door.”

Tucking Ptolemy under her arm, Dandra stood up. “I do not wish to bring trouble to the Wizard Tower. I will catch the afternoon barge to the Port.”

Tod jumped up. “No! Please, Dandra. Don't go.”

Septimus, too, got to his feet. “Dandra, you must stay. I do not believe you have brought trouble to our door. But even if you have, I would not wish you to go. The Wizard Tower is not a fair-weather friend. It is loyal to all within its walls.”

Dandra at last understood that she truly was with friends. Not trusting herself to speak, she clutched her tortoise to her and ran out. As the door swung closed, Septimus murmured, “Who would have thought a little tortoise could cause so much trouble?”

Tod felt she had to be honest. “I think it was my fault, really,” she said. “It was because I took the cards while Kaznim was asleep. Kaznim noticed and said I had stolen them. And she was right.”

Septimus looked thoughtful. “Sometimes, Tod, you will
find you do have to do things that are a little . . . distasteful for the good of the Wizard Tower and the Castle. You did the right thing.”

Tod shook her head. “I wanted it to be the right thing,” she said. “But afterward it didn't feel that way.”

“You did what you felt was right at the time, for the right reasons—to find the Orm Egg,” Septimus said. “And getting that egg
is
the most important thing right now, don't you agree?”

“Yes,” Tod said—and then immediately felt bad because she had actually made it more difficult. “I'd do anything to find the Orm Egg,” she said.
“Anything.”

Septimus did not like to see his new Apprentice so upset. He knew she blamed herself for losing Kaznim and Jim Knee. “Tod,” he said. “If I had been thinking straight last night I would have put a guard outside the dorm to stop Kaznim from running off. Her disappearance is not your fault, okay?”

Tod nodded.

“And as for Jim Knee—well, I am that wretched jinnee's Master and as such I am, unfortunately, responsible for all he does. You do understand that?”

Tod nodded again.

Septimus stood up. “Now get yourself down to the Sled Shed and win the Apprentices' Cup for the Wizard Tower.” He took a small card from his pocket and quickly scribbled something on it. “I hear Drammer Makken is your substitute,” he said. “Give him that and he won't make trouble.”

“Thanks . . .” Tod took the card reluctantly. The sled race seemed rather frivolous after Dandra's story.

“And I shall look for that jinnee of mine. If I've not found him by the time the race is over—and you have won, of course—I will
Summon
him. I don't want to do that—it might damage him—but if it's a choice between a damaged jinnee and none at all, then I shall have to take the damaged one.”

“Poor Jim Knee,” Tod murmured.

“Indeed,” Septimus said. “But don't forget, this life—or series of lives—was a choice she freely made.”

“She?”
Tod asked.

“Yes. I understand that Jim Knee was a woman married to a turtle trader when she decided to take the Path of the Jinn. Now, I have something for you.” Septimus took a small purple cloth from his pocket. “For the runners,” he said.

“Runners?” Tod asked, puzzled. She was still trying to
imagine Jim Knee married to a turtle trader.

“For the Wizard Tower Sled. A secret weapon.” Septimus grinned.

Tod eyed at the cloth uncertainly. “But the rules say that no new
Magyk
is allowed.”

“Quite right too,” Septimus said. “But it's not
Magyk
. It's just a normal cloth that Beetle—I mean, the Chief Hermetic Scribe—gave me some years ago. He knew every way to get the best from a sled. He was a terrifyingly fast sledder. Still is, believe it or not.”

Tod did believe it. There was something boyish about the Chief Hermetic Scribe that she really liked. She often found herself about to call him “Beetle” and then remembered that a Year One Apprentice must be more respectful.

“The cloth removes even the smallest particle of dirt so the blade of the runner is smooth as glass,” Septimus explained. “You'll need to take more care on the ice at the start as you'll find the sled harder to control, but once you've got down to the deep snow on the other side of the Moat, you'll be amazed the difference it makes. Trust me, I won my last Senior Apprentice Race because of it.”

Tod took the soft purple cloth and a swirl of butterflies
fluttered through her stomach. Suddenly the race seemed very close.

“I will see you on the starting grid,” Septimus said. “But now I must be off to find that jinnee. Time is ticking away.”

The past few hours had seen a huge change at the starting grid. As Tod emerged from the Great Arch she found a large race board had been nailed to the outside of the courtyard wall. Foxy was writing in the names of the sleds in his looping writing and Rose, his girlfriend and recently qualified Ordinary Wizard, was reading the list of races out to him. Rose smiled at Tod as she emerged from the blue shadows of the archway. “Good luck,” she said.

“Oh! Thank you,” Tod replied. Tod liked Rose a lot. They shared an interest in
Charms
but Tod had the feeling that when she was with Septimus, Rose avoided her.

“I'll be cheering for you,” Rose said. “We all will. Everyone loves the Apprentice Race.”

Tod smiled nervously. She was beginning to realize what
a huge event this was. She pushed her way through the small crowd watching Foxy's loopy writing slowly reveal the lane order of the sleds, and headed across the top of the starting grid, now marked out in squares and bedecked with a huge banner reading
START
strung across the torchposts. Tod squeezed through a group of teens dressed in black—she guessed they were from Gothyk Grotto—and headed for the alleyway that led to the Sled Shed. This now had a rope slung across it and Darius Wrenn was standing awkwardly behind it. He had a clipboard tucked under his arm and was gazing at the little
Egg Timer
glinting in his hand. Seeing Tod's gaze, Darius quickly shoved it into his pocket, picked up his clipboard and tried to look official. “How bay I help you?” he asked.

“Gosh,” said Tod. “What have you done to your nose?”

Darius sniffed. “Nuffin,” he said. “How bay I help you?”

“I'm racing,” Tod said. “Can you let me through, please?”

Darius looked at Tod's very fine Apprentice belt and asked, “Are you the ExtraOrdinary Apprentice?”

“Yes. I'm in the first race.”

Encouraged by his correct identification, Darius peered at his clipboard and frowned; something did not make sense.
“You'll have to wait for the others,” he said.

“Other what?” Tod asked, confused.

“Other . . .
people
?” Darius asked. Who knew what the ExtraOrdinary Apprentice might want to bring? Yesterday afternoon an Ordinary Apprentice had brought in a
ShapeShifted
cat in the shape of a large and very hairy spider and just dumped it on the desk.

“But there aren't any other people,” Tod said.

“Oh. Right. So which one are you?”

Suddenly Tod understood. “I'm all of them,” she said. “I am Alice and Tod and Hunter and Moon.”

Darius looked impressed. “Wow. Four people at once. That is an
amazing
spell.”

“So will you let me through now?”

Darius very carefully crossed all Tod's names off. “Yes, you can
all
come in.”

Darius unclipped the rope and, emboldened by his success in letting in four people at once, said, “Excuse me. But, um, how can you tell if something is
Magykal
?”

Pleased to be asked something she could actually answer, Tod said, “Well, usually you can
Feel
the
Magyk
in it,” she said.

“Can everyone do that?” Darius asked.

“Not everyone,” Tod said.

“Can
you
?” Darius persisted.

“Yes, I can—well, most of the time,” Tod said.

Darius took the little
Egg Timer
out of his pocket. “Could you tell me if this is
Magykal
?” he asked. “I think it might be, because the grains inside behave kind of funny.”

Tod was surprised that such a scruffy little boy would have such an exquisite object in his pocket. “I'll have to hold it,” she said. “Is that okay?”

Darius nodded and handed over the
Egg Timer
. A jolt of ancient foreign
Magyk
tingled through Tod's palm. “It is
Magykal
,” she said. “And it's not from here. Where did you get it?”

“A little girl gave it to me,” Darius said, feeling guilty. “I . . . I didn't want it. But she made me take it. Honestly.”

Something that Kaznim had yelled at her as she had raced down the stairs came into Tod's head:
And if you had found it, you would have stolen my
Egg Timer
too
. “Was the little girl wearing red?” Tod asked.

Darius nodded.

It had to be Kaznim
, Tod thought excitedly. “Do you know
where she is now?” she asked.

Darius shook his head. “She ran away. I think the ghost scared her.”

“Which ghost was that?” Tod asked.

“The horrible one we have in the Manuscriptorium,” Darius said.

Tod knelt down beside Darius. She could see he was timid and she didn't want to frighten him. “You're Darius, aren't you?” she asked.

Darius nodded.

“Well, the thing is, Darius, that little girl has something very important that we need at the Wizard Tower. Something really, really important. And this might help us find it.”

Darius knew he should never have accepted such a wonderful thing. “Please,” he said, holding it out to Tod. “Please, you take it.”

Tod shook her head. She didn't want to risk taking the
Egg Timer
on the sled race. “How about I tell the ExtraOrdinary Wizard?” she suggested. “Then you can give it to him and tell him about the little girl, too. Okay?”

Darius looked horrified. The thought of the ExtraOrdinary Wizard himself asking him questions was too terrifying for
words. He shook his head and thrust the
Egg Timer
into Tod's hand. “Take it,
please
,” he said. “I don't want it. Really I don't.”

Tod took the
Egg Timer
and, leaving Darius nervously clutching his clipboard, she hurried off along the cinder path that ran along the icy track toward the Sled Shed. Tod was longing to tell Septimus what she'd discovered, but she'd promised to meet Oskar and Ferdie and she mustn't let them down. With the Tribe of Three versus the Wizard Tower playing in her head yet again, Tod pushed open the sliding door to the Sled Shed and stepped inside.

The Sled Shed was buzzing with excitement. Large and newly built, it replaced the old Manuscriptorium boathouse. The care lavished on the interior, with its carved wooden beams and
Perpetual Frost
floor, reflected the Chief Hermetic Scribe's love of everything to do with sledding.

One of the first things Beetle had done when he became Chief Hermetic Scribe was to search for the long-lost
Manuscriptorium sled
Charm
. This was a piece of
Magykal
wood that, when a sliver was shaved off and embedded into a sled, gave it the ability to move not only downhill but also uphill and along the flat. Beetle had eventually discovered the
Charm
by happy accident. It had been used to repair a chair on which a scribe named Colin Partridge sat. However, when Partridge decided to impress Romilly Badger by reciting the sled
Incantation
, his chair had shot off around the room, slaloming between the desks, leaping over piles of books, before other scribes thoughtfully opened the doors and allowed Partridge to go whizzing off down Wizard Way—watched by the entire complement of the Manuscriptorium, helpless with laughter. Once Partridge and the chair were rescued from the Moat, Beetle had extricated the
Charm
and set about commissioning a new sled from the Castle boatbuilder, Jannit Maarten. Jannit discovered that sled-making was good practice for her Apprentices and one sled led to another. That morning, five of the finest sat beside the Wizard Tower sled and Beetle's old but much-loved Ice Tunnel inspection sled, known by all as the
Beetle
.

Oskar was racing the
Beetle
and he had great hopes for his sled; it had what he called “attitude.” Watched by Ferdie, he
was rubbing down a rough spot on the front of the runner when Tod came in. Oskar sat back on his heels and ran his hand through his springy red hair—a mannerism many of those who worked at the Manuscriptorium had caught from their Chief. “Hey, Tod,” he said, and gave her the Tribe of Three sign—three raised fingers of the right hand.

Tod returned it. “Wow,” she said. “It's amazing in here.”

“Not bad,” Oskar agreed.

The Sled Shed was dazzlingly bright. A line of brilliant white lamps hung from the roof beams and the
Perpetual Frost
floor glittered and sparkled. Seven sleds were lined up, each one gleaming as a result of much love and attention. The Wizard Tower sled was beautiful, but it was by no means the most impressive. As a boy, Beetle's hobby had been drawing fantasy sleds, and now the results of his drawings were there for all to see.