Septimus Heap 4 - Queste (34 page)

Beetle was right about one thing: it had snowed so much during the night that the hut was very nearly completely covered with snow. It lay where the wind had blown it, piled up against the sides of the hut, a great heap of the stuff barring their way out. Beetle fetched the shovel from the smelly little outhouse and began digging the snow away very energetically, as if to make up for the embarrassing door episode. After a few fast shovelfuls had been thrown to the side, Beetle suddenly stopped.

“Need a break?” asked Septimus.

“No! I mean, no thanks, I’m fine. Only just got started. But there’s something under the snow…something soft.”

Carefully now, Beetle prodded at the snow with the shovel and began to gently scrape it away.

“Look!” Jenna gasped. “Oh no, look.”

Soaked and heavy with snow, a scarcely visible white woolen cloth lay exposed by Beetle’s digging. “Someone’s under here,” muttered Beetle. He dropped to his hands and knees, and along with Jenna and Septimus, quickly scraped away the snow.

“Ephaniah!” Jenna exclaimed. “Oh no, it’s Ephaniah. Ephaniah, wake up!”

UNDER THE SNOW

I t took the combined strength

of all three to haul the soaked and frozen figure into the hut. He lay on the floor taking up the entire space between the bunks, a great bulky mass of sodden white robes clinging to his strange rat-man shape. Ullr arched up, hissing, the fur on his tail sticking out like a bottlebrush and shot out of the hut. Jenna did not even notice.

“Oh, this is awful,” she said tearfully, dropping to her knees beside the rat-man. “That scratching last night was Ephaniah. We ignored him. And he couldn’t even shout to tell us he was there—freezing to death. Oh, Sep, we’ve probably killed him.”

Septimus thought Jenna might be right. Marcia had taught him to Listen for the Sound of Human Heartbeat and he could hear only Jenna’s and Beetle’s—both beating fast. But, thought Septimus, as he threw some logs into the stove and got the fire going once more, he didn’t know if the Listening

worked for the sound of rat-human heartbeat as well. It wasn’t something he had thought to ask at the time.

Jenna looked at Ephaniah in dismay. He had lost his glasses and his eyes were closed, the long dark lashes stuck together with flecks of ice. His small amount of visible human skin was bluish-white and his sparse, short brown hair was caked with snow and plastered to his skull, which was surprisingly human in shape. Jenna knew she ought to unwind the cloth from his rat mouth and listen for sounds of breathing—or at the very least put her hand on him to check for the rise and fall of his chest—but she found herself very reluctant to touch the rat-man. She thought that maybe it was the nearness of his bulk, which was suddenly overwhelming in all its ratlike strangeness. When Ephaniah was conscious his humanity shone through, and Jenna hardly noticed the rat in the man—but now she found it hard to see the man in the rat. She glanced up at Beetle; he was standing in the doorway staring at Ephaniah. “Do you think he’s still alive?” she half whispered.

Beetle nodded slowly. “Yeah…” he said, moving his timepiece from hand to hand—a nervous habit he had when he was worried. He thought he saw the rat-man’s eyes flicker open for a moment, but he said nothing.

The fire in the stove was blazing now. Steam was rising from the white woolen robes and a musty, unpleasant smell began to fill the hut.

“He must have followed us,” said Septimus, staring down at Ephaniah. “That must have been what I saw…”

“You saw him?” asked Jenna. “Why didn’t you say?”

“Well…I wasn’t sure.”

“Poor Ephaniah,” said Jenna. “He’d be camouflaged—like the Snow Foxes in the Lands of the Long Nights.”

“Yeah. Well, it wasn’t just that. I didn’t want to say because it felt…Darke.”

“Ephaniah felt Darke?”

Septimus shrugged. “Well, I—”

Beetle had been staring at Ephaniah intently. Now he spoke. “Sep.”

There was something in Beetle’s voice that sent a chill down Septimus’s spine. “What?” he whispered.

Silently, Beetle pointed to his own left little finger and crossed the first and second fingers of his left hand—the sign scribes used for the Darke. Now Septimus understood—but Jenna did not. Frightened, she glanced at Septimus. “Get out,” he mouthed.

“Why?” asked Jenna, her voice sounding horribly loud in the silence.

No one replied. The next moment Septimus was beside her and before she knew it she was on her feet being propelled out of the doorway and over the pile of snow.

“But—” Jenna protested to no avail.

“Shh!” hissed Septimus. “You’ll wake it.”

“Wake what?”

Silent and fast, Beetle closed the hut door. Jenna watched as Septimus placed both hands on the door, just as he had done the night before, and muttered something under his breath. Then he gave a thumbs-up sign and scrambled over the snow. The next moment Jenna found herself grabbed by Septimus and Beetle and running from the hut as though it were on fire with Ullr bounding behind.

They headed down the valley, leaping over the snow and dodging through the trees like a trio of terrified deer. To their right a steep cliff reared up through the treetops and when they reached the base of the cliff, they stopped to catch their breath. They looked back up the valley, searching out the hut, which—if it had not been for the lazily rising wood smoke that was drifting up through the trees—would have been almost impossible to see.

“It’s okay,” said Beetle. “I can’t see it. Of course it might be hiding behind the trees, but I don’t think so.”

“It?” asked Jenna. “What do you mean—the hut’s following us? Are you crazy?”

“I mean Ephaniah,” said Beetle. “Except it’s not.”

“Not what?” asked Jenna.

“It’s not Ephaniah,” said Beetle. “It’s a Thing.”

“A Thing?”

“Yep. The one from the Manuscriptorium. The one that came with the kid who got me fired and took my job.”

“No. No, I don’t believe it. It’s Ephaniah.”

Septimus glanced back up the valley anxiously. “Come on, let’s get some distance between us.”

They set off again, following the steady downward slope of the valley, keeping into the shadows of the cliff face. Every step that took them away from the hut made Jenna feel as if she were betraying Ephaniah. At last she could stand it no more. “Stop,” she said in a deliberately Princessy voice. “I’m not going any farther. We’ve got to go back.”

Septimus and Beetle stopped. “But, Jen,” they both protested.

Jenna pulled her wolverine cloak around her as if it were a royal mantle and stubbornly stuck out her chin—just as her mother had done on the rare occasions her advisers had dared to disagree with her. “Either you two tell me exactly what’s going on or I am going straight back to the hut. Now,” she told them.

Septimus took a deep breath. He was going to have to make this good, he could tell. “Jen, last night the scrabbling at the door stopped after I did an Anti-Darke Incantation. And that only affects Darke stuff. It wouldn’t have stopped the real Ephaniah.”

“Maybe that was coincidence. Maybe he was getting exhausted or his hands were too frozen…” Jenna stamped her feet through the snow in frustration. How could Septimus be so sure?

“No, Jen,” said Septimus very definitely. “Beetle, tell Jen what you saw.”

Beetle sat down on a snow-covered log—his legs ached after the unaccustomed exercise of the last few days. “I saw a ring. A Darke ring.”

“What do you mean?” asked Jenna.

“It was when I went back to get your pin.”

“What was?”

“The kid shrunk one of his precious licorice snakes and gave it to the Thing as part of a Contract.”

“A Contract? Beetle, what are you talking about?”

Beetle found it hard to explain things to Jenna—the way she looked at him stopped him from thinking straight. But he had to try. He took a deep breath and began.

“That precious scribe of Jillie Djinn’s who was in the Vaults—you remember?”

Jenna nodded.

“Well, it seems he had a Darke Thing

with him. Because when I went back to find your pin I heard him transfer it to Tertius Fume. The kid had to give the Thing a release token and he didn’t have anything except a licorice snake. So he Shrank that and gave it to the Thing.

And that’s what I saw on Ephaniah’s left little finger.”

“No—but how?”

“The only possible explanation is that the Thing has InHabited Ephaniah. Because whatever form a Thing takes, a Darke ring will stay the same.”

“I didn’t see a ring,” Jenna said stubbornly.

“You weren’t looking, Jen,” said Septimus.

Jenna shook her head in disbelief. She could not rid herself of the thought of Ephaniah lying abandoned in the hut. “I—I don’t believe it. Poor Ephaniah. He must have followed us through that horrible forest. And with his limp he’d never have been able to catch us. And he couldn’t shout, could he? So what did we do in return? We left him outside all night even though he was begging to come in, and now we’ve left him behind to freeze to death. Well, you might think that’s okay, but I don’t.”

“But, Jen—” Septimus’s protests fell on thin air. Jenna was already running back up the valley retracing their footsteps, followed by the faithful Ullr.

“Jen! Stop!” yelled Septimus.

“I wouldn’t shout,” said Beetle. “You don’t know what’s listening. Come on, Sep, we gotta get to her before the Thing does.”

But Jenna, who could always run fast, had already put a good distance between them.

Beetle surprised himself by reaching the hut before Septimus. “Jenna…” he puffed. “Jenna?”

There was no reply. Heart beating fast, Beetle followed Jenna’s scrambling footsteps through the snowdrift outside the door. He found Jenna alone, standing on the wet patch where the body of Ephaniah had lain.

“He’s gone,” said Jenna.

“Good,” said Beetle.

“But…how? He was unconscious.”

Beetle shook his head. “I saw his eyes open—just for a moment. He looked at me. Can’t do that if you’re unconscious.”

“But how could he go so fast? Ephaniah can’t even walk very well.”

“Doesn’t make any difference who they InHabit,” said Beetle. “They can still shift it.”

Jenna looked Beetle in the eye. “You really do think that Ephaniah has been—what do you call it?—InHabited, don’t you?”

Beetle nodded solemnly.

“And you honestly, truly saw the snake ring on his finger?”

“Yep. Little pinky, left hand. Where they always wear them.”

“Okay,” said Jenna reluctantly. “I believe it now.”

Beetle grinned with relief and pleasure—Jenna had listened to him. It was a good feeling.

Septimus appeared, out of breath. “I saw it at the top of the hill,” he said. “It’s heading off.”

“Good,” said Beetle.

Jenna had something she wanted to say. “Beetle, I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”

“’S okay.” Beetle shrugged.

“I know I should have.”

“I don’t see why—it’s weird stuff. Why should you believe it?”

“Because I know who that boy is. The one you call Daniel Hunter.”

“You do?”

“He was DomDaniel’s Apprentice. You remember, Sep? I know he’s changed a lot—he’s taller and his skin has gotten bad and his hair is long and horrible—but it is him, isn’t it?”

Septimus wasn’t too good with faces. But now that Jenna had said it, he knew she was right. “So that’s why he said he was me—because for ten years he was. Well, he thought he was. Poor kid.”

Beetle looked puzzled. “Tell you later, Beetle,” said Septimus. “But we ought to get going.” He held out the compass.

The needle was still pointing steadily—but not in the direction he had hoped. “Darn. It’s pointing the way the Thing has gone.”

“We’ll have to follow it,” said Jenna.

“No, Jen. That’s just plain dangerous,” Septimus protested.

Jenna stuck out her bottom lip stubbornly. “I don’t care, Sep. If that’s the way to the House of Foryx, then that’s the way we go.”

Septimus appealed to Beetle. “It’s crazy to follow that Thing. You agree, don’t you, Beetle?”

“Well…” Beetle hesitated.

“Beetle,” Septimus protested.

“If it’s going in the right direction we could do worse than to follow it. That way we keep an eye on it. Much better to have something like that in front of you than behind you where you can’t see what it’s doing.”

“Yes,” said Jenna briskly. “Just what I was thinking.”

“You know, Jen,” said Septimus as they set off following the Thing’s tracks, “sometimes you really do remind me of Marcia.”

THE EDGE OF THE ABYSS

T hey followed the long, scuffling

tracks away from the hut. The tracks led over a small stone bridge that Snorri had marked on the map, then up a steep slope and down into another valley beyond. As they walked through the tall trees at the head of the broad valley, all around was silence and snow; not a breath of wind stirred the branches. Once or twice they caught a glimpse of the Thing

far below, speeding down the slope with its odd, lurching gait, but the white of its robes made it hard to spot against the snow and it drew ever farther ahead until they lost sight of it.

Still following the tracks, the compass needle led them down to a frozen marsh on the valley floor. It was noticeably colder here. The mix of ice and marsh mud crackled beneath their feet and the tall, black spikes of reed that stuck up through the snow snagged on their wolverine-skin cloaks. As they continued on a downward slope, the marsh gave way to a wide frozen stream, along which the Thing

had traveled in long, sliding strides. Jenna picked up Ullr and placed him on top of her backpack. The cat perched precariously and surveyed the scene in a disapproving manner. Slipping and sliding, they set off along the ice, leaning forward to balance their backpacks. Soon they got into a steady skating rhythm and picked up speed along the smooth ice of the stream.

The stream widened and led them into the lower reaches of the valley. Septimus, who was in the lead, suddenly saw a huge bank of thick white fog rising in front of them. He skidded to a halt and Beetle cannoned into him, closely followed by Jenna and Ullr, who toppled onto the ice with a loud meow.