Septimus Heap 3 - Physik (9 page)

What neither Septimus nor Jenna could see was the occupant of the fireside chair—the ghost of a young woman. Turning to look at her visitors, the young woman gazed at Jenna with a rapt expression. Around her long, dark hair, the ghost wore a gold circlet, identical to the one that Jenna wore. She had the red and gold robes of a Queen, which were heavily bloodstained over her heart. Having looked her fill at Jenna, the Queen turned her gaze toward Septimus, taking in his green Apprentice tunic and cloak, his brilliant green eyes and, in particular, his ExtraOrdinary Apprentice silver belt. Seemingly satisfied that Septimus was a suitable companion for her daughter, the young woman relaxed back into her chair.

“Feels funny in here,” Septimus whispered, looking at the apparently empty chair.

“I know,” Jenna replied in a hushed voice. Remembering what Etheldredda had said, she looked around the room, half hoping to see the ghost of her mother. She thought there was a faint glimmer of something in the armchair, but when she looked again there was nothing. And yet ... Jenna shook the thoughts of her mother out of her head.

“Come on,” she told Septimus.

“Come on where, Jen?”

“Into Aunt Zelda's cupboard.” Jenna opened the door to the cupboard and waited for Septimus.

“Oh, great, are you taking me to see Aunt Zelda?”

“Stop asking questions, Sep,” said Jenna a little sharply. Septimus looked surprised, but he followed her into the cupboard and Jenna closed the door behind them. The young woman in the chair smiled, happy to think that her daughter was going through the Queen's Way to see the Keeper in the Marram Marshes. She would, thought Jenna's mother, make a good Queen. When the Time was Right.

But, unknown to her mother, Jenna was not going to the Marram Marshes. As soon as she had closed the door behind Septimus, Jenna whispered, “We're not going to see Aunt Zelda.”

“Oh.” Septimus sounded disappointed. And then he said, “Why are you whispering?”

“Shhh. I don't know. Now there's a trapdoor here somewhere. Can you see it, Sep?”

“Don't you know where we're going either?” he asked.

“No. Look, can you shine your ring down here? I expect it's in the same place as Aunt Zelda's trapdoor.”

“You're being very mysterious, Jen,” said Septimus, shining his Dragon Ring so that the glow lit up the floor. Sure enough, the trapdoor in the Queen's Unstable Potions and Partikular Poisons cupboard was indeed in the same place as it was in Aunt Zelda's. Jenna lifted a carefully concealed thick gold ring (Aunt Zelda's was only brass) and pulled. The trapdoor lifted easily and silently, and Jenna and Septimus peered warily into the hole.

“What now?” whispered Septimus.

“We've got to go down,” Jenna replied.

“Where to?” asked Septimus, beginning to feel uneasy.

“To the Robing Room. It's the room below. Shall I go first?”

“No,” said Septimus, “let me go first. Just in case ... and, well, I've got the light from my ring.” Septimus lowered himself through the trapdoor, and instead of the rickety old wooden ladder that led down from Aunt Zelda's trapdoor, he found a flight of fine silver steps with open filigree treads and a polished mahogany banister on either side. Climbing down backward, for the steps were steep like a ship's ladder, Septimus called up to Jenna, “It's okay, Jen. I think.”

Jenna's boots appeared through the trapdoor, and Septimus went down the steps and waited at the bottom. As Jenna jumped from the last silver step and her feet touched the fine marble floor, two large candles at the foot of the steps burst into flame.

“Wow,” said Septimus, impressed. “It's a bit nicer than upstairs, Jen.”

The Queen's Robing Room was more than nice—it was opulent. It was larger than the upstairs room, for the turret widened on the lower floor. Its walls were lined with a burnished gold leaf that, although it had dulled over the centuries, glowed deep and rich in the candlelight. On the wall facing the silver steps was an old looking glass in an ornate gold frame, but it seemed to be of little use, for much of the reflective silvering was gone after years of dampness. The glass was dark and showed only a blurred reflection of the candlelight.

All along the walls were solid silver hooks, each one a different, intricately cast shape. One was shaped like a swan's neck, another like a snake; another was cast from intertwined initials of some long-dead Queen and her soul mate. Some hooks were empty and some had robes or cloaks hanging from them, reflecting the different styles popular through the previous centuries, but all in the traditional red and gold that the Queens of the Castle had always worn. What amazed Jenna—although Septimus did not notice—was that not one of the robes had any dust upon them. All looked as new and fresh as if they had just been made by the Palace seamstress.

Enthralled, for she loved rich cloth, Jenna wandered around the room, running her fingers over the robes and exclaiming, “These are so soft, Sep ... oh, feel this one, the silk is so fine ... and look at this fur trim, that's even better than Marcia's winter cloak, isn't it?” Jenna had lifted a fine woolen cloak from a silver hook embedded with emeralds and twisted into the shape of a J. She slipped it over her shoulders; it was a beautiful cloak, soft and flowing, edged with a dark red fur trim. It fit her perfectly. Unwilling to put it back on its lonely hook, Jenna fastened the gold clasp and wrapped the cloak around her. It reminded her of Lucy Gringe's blue cloak that Jenna had worn not so long ago, and had recently given to a very surprised Lucy.

“Look, it fits me perfectly. It's as if it were made for me. And see, Nicko's present is just right.” Jenna had fastened the cloak with her gold pin, also in the shape of a J, which Nicko had bought from a merchant in the Port and given to her for her last birthday.

“Very nice, Jen,” said Septimus, who did not find clothes the least bit interesting and thought the Robing Room a little oppressive. “Look, hadn't you better show me whatever it was you wanted to?”

Jenna came back to earth with a jolt. For a few moments she had forgotten all about the wretched Queen Etheldredda. She pointed at the dark looking glass. “That's it, Sep. Now you have to look in it. That's what I promised.”

Septimus looked wary. “Promised who?”

“Queen Etheldredda,” Jenna whispered miserably. “Last night. She was waiting for me outside the door.”

“Oh,” Septimus muttered, “I see. But weird things can happen with looking glasses, Jen. Especially old ones. I don't think I should do this.”

“Please, Sep,” Jenna pleaded. “Please look in it. Please. ”

“Why?” Septimus saw a look of panic on Jenna's face. “Jen—what's the matter?”

“Because if you don't, she'll...”

“She'll what?”

Jenna looked white. “She'll Reverse the Reclaime. At midnight. You'll drown at midnight tonight.”

The Glass

Septimus stood warily in front of the looking glass, deliberately avoiding it by staring at his boots. He remembered Alther telling him how he had once looked in a Glass and seen a Spectre Waiting for him. He was afraid he might be about to see the same thing. “How does she know whether I've looked into the Glass or not?” he asked.

“I don't know,” Jenna said, unhappily twisting the red fur trim on her new cloak. “I didn't ask. I was so scared that she would reverse the Reclaime that I just told her I would make sure you did it.”

“Did she say why I had to?”

“No. She wouldn't say. She was just so ... threatening. It was horrible. Can she really do what she said, Sep? Can she really reverse the Reclaime?”

Septimus angrily scuffed his boots on the marble. “Yes, she can, Jen. Within twenty-four hours, if she's skilled at it, which I bet she is. I bet she's done it lots of times before. Rescued some poor person and then held them ransom.”

“She's horrible,” muttered Jenna. “I hate her.”

“Marcia says you shouldn't hate anyone,” Septimus said. “She says first you should stand in their shoes before you judge them.”

“Marcia wouldn't stand in anyone else's shoes,” Jenna said with a wry smile, “unless they were pointy purple python skin with dinky little gold buttons.”

Septimus laughed and then fell silent. So did Jenna. Both felt their gazes drawn toward the Glass but neither looked at it. Suddenly Septimus blurted out, “I'm going to look in it now, Jen.”

“Now?” Jenna's voice rose up a pitch.

“Yes. Get it over with. After all, what's the worst that can happen? I might see a horrible old Spectre or Thing, but that's all. What you see can't hurt you, can it?”

“No. I suppose not...” Jenna sounded unconvinced.

"So I'll do it now. You go back up to the cupboard and I'll be up in a moment.

Okay?"

“No, I'm not leaving you here on your own,” protested Jenna.

“But if there is a Spectre Waiting for me, Jen, you mustn't see it. It will Haunt you too. I know what to do about Spectres and you don't.”

“But—” Jenna hesitated.

“Go on, Jen. Please.” Septimus flashed Jenna a smile. “Go on.”

Jenna reluctantly started up the silver stairs to the potions cupboard. Once she was safely out of the Robing Room, Septimus took a deep breath to steady his nerves.

Then he looked into the Glass.

At first he could see nothing. The Glass was dark, like a deep marsh pool. Septimus leaned closer, wondering why he could not see his own reflection and, despite doing his best not to, imagining all kinds of horrible Spectres at his shoulder, Waiting for him.

“Are you okay? Have you looked into the Glass yet?” Jenna's voice came from the cupboard.

“Um ... yes. I'm looking now...”

“What can you see?”

“Nothing ... nothing ... it's just dark ... oh, wait ... I can see something now ... it—it's weird ... an old man ... staring at me. He looks kind of surprised.”

“An old man?” asked Jenna.

“Oh, that's odd...”

“What?” Jenna sounded worried.

“Well, if I raise my right hand he does too. And if I frown, he frowns too.”

“Like your reflection would?”

“Well, yes. Oh, I know what it is—it's one of those Yet-to-Come Glasses. They were very popular in the old days. Traveling fairs used to bring them. They show you what you're going to look like just before you die.”

“That's horrible, Sep,” Jenna called down.

“Yeah. Don't ever want to look like that. Ugh. Oh, look, if I stick out my tongue, he— hey! ”

“What?” Jenna could bear it no longer. She hurtled down the steps and arrived in the Robing Room just in time to see Septimus spring back from the Glass, slip on the shiny marble floor and fall. As he scrabbled to get up and away, Jenna screamed.

Reaching out of the Glass were two old, wizened hands. With long bony fingers and curved yellow nails, they snatched at Septimus's tunic, grabbed hold of it, then wrapped themselves around his Apprentice belt, dragging him toward the Glass.

Frantically Septimus tried to pull away, kicking out at the clutching talons.

“Jen! Help, Je—” he yelled, and then there was silence. Septimus's head had disappeared into the Glass as though sinking into a pool of ink.

Jenna ran down the steps and skidded across the floor, horrified at seeing Septimus's shoulders rapidly disappearing into the Glass. She leaped forward, grabbed his feet and pulled with all her strength. Slowly, slowly Septimus began to come out of the Glass. Jenna hung on like a dog with a bone, determined never, ever, to let go of Septimus. Little by little, as if emerging from one of the black Marram Marsh pools, Septimus's head broke free. He twisted around and yelled, “Careful, Jen! Don't let him get you!”

Jenna glanced up and saw a face that stayed with her for the rest of her life. It was the face of an old man—an ancient man—with a great long nose and sunken, staring eyes that looked at Jenna with surprise, as if he knew her. Long wisps of yellowish white hair hung down and caught over his enormous old ears. His mouth, which contained three great tombstone teeth, was fixed in a wide grimace of concentration as he tried to pull Septimus away from her. Then, suddenly, with a tremendous heave, he succeeded. Septimus shot through the Glass and Jenna was left alone in the Robing Room, staring in disbelief at all that was left of Septimus—his old brown boots, empty in her hands.

With toes stubbed from kicking the Glass and her throat sore from screaming at it to give Septimus back, Jenna fled up the steps, clutching Septimus's boots. Once she was safely in the Unstable Potions and Partikular Poisons cupboard, she slammed the trapdoor closed and opened the bottom drawer under the empty shelves. She heard the familiar metallic click, and then, trying to catch her breath, Jenna waited impatiently until something in the cupboard shifted and she smelled the familiar scent of cabbages cooking.

Jenna pushed open the door and stepped out into Aunt Zelda's cottage.

“Oi!” A startled voice came from the rug beside the fire. A boy with long matted hair, wearing a simple brown tunic fastened with an old leather belt, leaped to his feet with a look of alarm. On seeing Jenna, Wolf Boy relaxed and said, “Hey, it's you again. Can't keep away, huh?” And then, noticing Jenna's expression: “Jenna, what's the matter?”

“Oh ... 409,” gasped Jenna, who had picked up Septimus's habit of addressing Wolf Boy by his old Young Army number. "Where's Aunt Zelda—I've got to see Aunt Zelda.

Wolf Boy needed no excuse to leave his early reader potion book by the fire and come over to Jenna. He had never mastered the art of reading, having been completely terrified of his reading and writing instructor in the Young Army. And now, no matter how hard he tried and how patient Aunt Zelda was with him, the way the letters stuck together to make words—or not—still made little sense to Wolf Boy. “She's not here, Jenna,” he explained. "She's out gathering marsh herbs an'

stuff. Hey, aren't those 412's boots?"

Jenna nodded miserably. She had been sure that Aunt Zelda would know what to do, but now ... She leaned against the cupboard door, suddenly exhausted.

“Can I help?” Wolf Boy asked quietly, a concerned look in his dark brown eyes.

“I don't know...” Jenna almost wailed and then stopped. She must keep calm, she told herself. She must think what to do. She must.