Septimus Heap 4 - Queste (18 page)

I have strengthened all the papers but for future safekeeping I should like to bind them. Do I have your permission?

Jenna nodded.

Ephaniah’s eyes smiled—this was a job he loved. From a drawer in the table he took two thick pieces of card, covered in the new Jillie Djinn rebranding reddish purple Manuscriptorium cloth. Taking an eyelet punch, he made five holes down one side of each card and then picked up the sheaf of ReUnited papers and sandwiched them between them. Now Ephaniah took a long length of blue ribbon and deftly laced the covers together so that Nicko’s notes and jottings were now safely bound between the thick red card. Next the Conservation Scribe tied the corners together with yet more ribbon; then with a final flourish he produced a large stamp and thumped it down onto the cloth. When he lifted the stamp the words CONSERVED, CHECKED AND GUARANTEED BY EPHANIAH GREBE were imprinted in gold on the red.

With his white wraps wrinkling as though underneath them his rat whiskers were twitching with a smile, the Conservation Scribe proudly handed the beautifully bound papers to Jenna. “Oh…thank you,” she breathed. Now at last she had Nicko’s papers back in her hands; Jenna felt a huge sense of relief. Everything was going to be all right. She would go to see Sep, they would look at the map together and figure out how to get to the House of Foryx, and then they would go and get Nicko back. Her thoughts running far ahead, Jenna found herself wondering if she could persuade Jillie Djinn to give Beetle some time off—it would be great if Beetle could come with them too. Just as Jenna was planning what she would say to Miss Djinn when she refused to let Beetle go, Beetle’s voice broke into her thoughts.

“Have you seen what’s missing?” he asked anxiously.

“Missing?” Jenna came down to earth with a bump.

“Yes. The one that wouldn’t ReUnite. Which one was that?”

“Oh.” Jenna opened Ephaniah’s beautifully bound book and began to leaf through the papers, which were now clean and strong, the writing clear and unsmudged with no signs of any joins—the Conservation Scribe had done a wonderful job.

There were many things Jenna had not seen—lists for food supplies, clothing, a messed-up application for two travel permits, numerous to-do lists and several urgent must-do lists. Then there were the things she remembered seeing in Marcellus’s attic—the boat doodles, the knot diagrams, the winter market list, the games that Nicko and Snorri had played. They were all there except for one thing—the map.

Jenna looked at the mess on the table in despair. Tears pricked the back of her eyelids as she took in the fact that the key to finding Nicko lay strewn in a thousand pieces in front of them, with a memo beside it in Ephaniah’s neat hand: Incomplete.

Ephaniah had seen Jenna’s expression and was hastily scribbling: All is not lost. Maybe a Seek can be done for the missing piece. Ask EOW.

“Who is Eow?” asked Jenna.

Ephaniah picked up his pen again, but Beetle said, “ExtraOrdinary Wizard. It’s the shorthand we use here. Like CHS is Chief Hermetic Scribe or GFOAIC—that’s me. But nobody uses it because it’s shorter to say Beetle.”

“GFOAIC?” asked Jenna.

“General Front Office and Inspection Clerk.”

“Ah,” said Jenna. “Well, GFOAIC, would you come with me to find Marcia…please? She might listen to two of us.”

She turned to Ephaniah and said, “Thank you, Mr. Grebe. Thank you for giving me back Nicko’s things.” She clutched the beautifully bound book close to her.

Ephaniah nodded and produced a neatly written card, which he presented to Jenna with a flourish: I have enjoyed your visits very much, Princess. I would be honored to see you again and hope I may be of service in the future.

Jenna smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Grebe. I shall be back very soon with the EOW, and then you can do the final ReUnite,”

she said, sounding much more confident than she felt.

TERTIUS FUME

J enna and Beetle left

the bright lights of Ephaniah’s realm and stumbled out into the darkness of the Manuscriptorium basement.

“I’ve got to check to see if the Vaults are secure and do the LockUp, but it won’t take long,” said Beetle.

Jenna was longing to rush and get Marcia but she realized that Beetle had a job to do. “I’ll come and help you check the Vaults if you like,” she offered.

Beetle did like—very much. “Okay. Yep. Fine,” he said, trying not to sound too pleased but overdoing it a little.

“But I don’t want to get in the way.”

“No! I mean no, of course you won’t get in the way.”

Jenna followed Beetle along the musty-smelling passageway that wound its way down to the Vaults, which were dug deep into the bedrock of the Castle below the cellars. As they reached the last turn of the passageway, the sound of voices could be heard—one of which had a low, booming resonance that Beetle knew was Tertius Fume. It was the other voice that surprised him. Beetle put his finger to his lips and began to move quietly. Jenna cast him a questioning glance.

“Trouble,” Beetle mouthed in reply. He slipped into an alcove at the top of the steep flight of steps that led down to the Vaults. Jenna joined him. Beetle’s heart was pounding so fast that at first he could not hear what the voices were saying.

He took a few deep breaths and made himself calm down.

“Who is it?” mouthed Jenna.

Beetle risked a quick glance. It was exactly who he had thought it was. Sitting sprawled on the bottom step half hidden in the dancing shadows cast by the pair of rushlights outside the Vaults was Jillie Djinn’s brand-new employee, gazing with rapt attention at the Ghost of the Vaults. The sound of the conversation drifted up the steps, the voices sounding hollow in the empty brick-lined passage.

“Of course

it is difficult, boy.” Tertius Fume’s voice reverberated up to the two eavesdroppers in the alcove. The ghost sounded cranky. “That is why it is at the end of the book. You are meant to have done what goes before.”

“But I didn’t want to do them. I only wanted to do the end one.”

“Practice perfect makes. A fool the shortcut takes,” Tertius responded.

“But I did everything it said—and it worked. I even got the Thing. In fact I got stacks of Things.”

“Stacks? What is stacks?”

“Lots. Lots and lots. Um…many.”

“Many? How many?”

“I dunno. About twenty, maybe more.”

“Twenty Things ? Thou art more a fool than I took you for. They will dog thy life forever more.”

“No, they won’t. I locked ’em up. They can’t get me now.”

“Did you indeed? Then how angry they will truly be, when next they catch a sight of thee.”

“Do you always talk in rhymes?”

“Yes. Now what do you want, boy? I am tired of this chatter.”

“I wanted to ask you about the Darkening the Destiny thingy.”

“Thingy?”

“I mean the Darke

Hex. I did it on someone but I don’t think it has worked. Nothing has happened to him yet and I’m sure I would have heard if it had.”

Tertius Fume sounded amused and somewhat mocking. “So you’ve tried to Darken AnOther’s Destiny, have you?” he asked. “And why would a young snake like you want to embark upon such a Darke journey, hmm? When I was your age I’d have chanced my luck with a sharp blade first. Much more satisfying.” The ghost chuckled as though reliving fond memories.

The new scribe sounded taken aback. “Oh. Well, I don’t really like knives,” he mumbled.

“Ah, you prefer others to do your work for you, do you? Employ a little subterfuge, a little deceit, hey? I’ve seen your kind before. You prefer to be the puppet master pulling the strings. But, be warned, when you dabble with the Darke you may find that you become the puppet.”

“Oh…” The boy’s voice faltered and if Beetle had dared to take another look he would have seen him nervously fingering the ring on his left thumb. “But I thought that…well, as you wrote this book—and I think it’s a really, really good book, the best I’ve ever read in fact and—”

“Don’t waste your breath trying to flatter me, boy. I couldn’t give a tinker’s monkey whether you like my book or not,”

Tertius Fume snapped. “Just tell me what you want from me. Come on, out with it.”

“I would like you to help me make the Darkening work. Big time.”

“And why should I help you, boy? What’s in it for me?”

“I could help you, too. We could work together.”

Tertius Fume gave a loud snort. “Me—work with you? Me, the very first Chief Hermetic Scribe, me work with a jumped-up little pinchbrain—just give me one reason why on earth I would want to do that?”

There was a silence and then Jenna and Beetle heard the words, clear as a bell, “Because I am alive and you are dead.”

Beetle raised his eyebrows at Jenna. That Daniel Hunter kid had nerve.

“Careful, boy,” Tertius Fume growled. “That state of affairs is easily remedied.”

“Oh. But I didn’t mean to…” The boy’s voice sounded thin and scared.

Tertius Fume ignored him and carried on. “However, it is true that I do miss some of the powers of the Living—and though I would not trust a lettuce leaf like you to do my bidding, I would trust your interesting companion here.”

Beetle raised his eyebrows at Jenna as if to say What interesting companion? He risked a quick glance but could see only the ghost and the dark-haired boy in the shadows—no one else.

“You can have him.” The boy sounded relieved. “He gives me the creeps, following me everywhere.”

“Very well, Transfer his allegiance to me and I will make the Darkening work.”

“And then—then will you help me?”

“I am a man of my word, whatever others may say,” said Tertius Fume. “The Other whose destiny is to be Darkened will find himself cast onto the Precipice of Peril. How does that sound?”

“Great!” said the new scribe. “Really great. That

will show him. That stuck-up, goody-goody Septimus Heap kid will wish he never stole my name.”

Jenna and Beetle looked at each other. “Sep!” they both gasped, then clapped their hands over their mouths. But it was too late.

“What was that?” Tertius Fume’s suspicious growl echoed up the steps.

“What was what?”

“I thought I heard…a rat. Or rats. Lurking at the top of the steps. Go and see, boy. Go on. Now.”

Horrified, Beetle grabbed Jenna’s hand and ran.

“There was no one there,” said Merrin, returning to his place at Tertius Fume’s feet.

“Very well,” said the ghost. “So now we have a Contract to complete, do we not?”

Merrin nodded warily. Suddenly he felt very scared.

Tertius Fume fixed his dark eyes on Merrin and said, “Look at me, boy. Look…at…me.”

Unable to resist, Merrin met the ghost’s stare. “The Contract,” said Tertius Fume, “is this: you will Transfer the allegiance of your servant Thing

to me in Perpetuity throughout the Universe and into the Great Beyond. In return I will make effective your pathetic attempt to Darken the Destiny of one Septimus Heap. Do you accept?”

Merrin managed a feeble croak. “How?”

“You just say yes, boy. It’s not complicated,” snapped Tertius Fume.

“But, um, how will you Darken his Destiny?”

“You dare to question me?” Wide-eyed with terror, Merrin shook his head. “If you question a Contract it must be answered, however stupid the question,” Tertius Fume said. Merrin squirmed at being called stupid yet again. “I shall Darken the Heap boy’s Destiny by sending him upon the Queste. No one returns from the Queste—no one. Do not look at me like an idiot, boy.” The ghost sighed; the boy had seemed promising at first but was turning out to be a big disappointment. In the interest of making sure the Contract was valid, he continued his explanation. “To work its best, Darke Magyk

must not be suspected. We must not give those who may wish to countermand it a chance to.” Ignoring Merrin’s puzzled look he carried on, “No one will suspect that the Queste is a Darkening, for over the centuries some twenty other Apprentices have also been dispatched. Has that answered your pre-Contract Inquiry?”

“Um…” Merrin mumbled.

“Oh, give me patience. Do you want to Darken the Heap boy’s Destiny or not? Yes or no?”

“Yes.”

“Very well.” The ghost rubbed his hands in anticipation. “Now, to make the Contract binding you will need to give your servant Thing something precious from you in thanks for its services, something that it will wear as a symbol of the Contract. Though ’tis but a poor copy of the real thing, that ring on your thumb will do.”

“But it is

the—” Merrin stopped and thought the better of what he had been about to say. “It won’t come off,” he said lamely.

Tertius Fume smiled malevolently. “If I could still wield a knife it would.”

Merrin went pale.

“So find something else, boy, before I am tempted to try.”

In a panic, Merrin went through his pockets and was about to hand over Sleuth when he found his very last licorice snake. “This!” he said, pulling out the snake in triumph.

Beetle and Jenna were nearly at the end of the long, winding passage back up to the Manuscriptorium when Jenna realized something was missing. “Nicko’s pin!” she said with a gasp, her hand flying to her cloak. “It’s gone!”

Beetle stopped. In the candlelight he could see Jenna’s tears welling. “What’s it like?” he asked.

“It’s a gold ‘J.’ Nicko brought it back from the Port. I always wear it in my cloak…always, and now it’s not there.”

“You had it down by the Vaults. I remember.”

“Did I?”

“I’m sure you did.” Beetle had noticed how Jenna kept checking the pin and had wondered who had given it to her.

“Wait here. I’ll go get it.”

“But that ghost—”

“I’ll be really quiet. He won’t know a thing. Be back in a sec.”

Jenna leaned against the cold brick wall of the passageway and listened to the sound of Beetle’s footsteps padding back to the Vaults. Without the reassuring presence of Beetle, the candlelit passage with its flickering shadows unnerved Jenna and she held Ullr tightly for comfort. Ullr mewed irritably and Jenna felt a tremor pass through the cat. Suddenly Ullr twisted out of her grasp and landed heavily in front of her. For a brief moment Jenna had an awful feeling that he was about to chase after Beetle and give them away—and then she realized what was happening. The sun had set. Ullr was Transforming.