StarChaser

by Angie Sage

  “Oh, come on,” Newt protested. “What did I do?”

  “You know what you did,” Rose said. “You were intimidating someone younger than yourself.”

  “That is not fair,” Newt whined.

  “Most definitely unfair . . . unfairly unfair, in fact,” his friends joined in.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Rose said. Tod saw a triumphant smirk pass between Newt and his friends—until Rose proceeded to Name the rest of the gang sitting at the table. “There,” Rose said, “now that is perfectly fair.”

  Aware of the angry silence from the neighboring table, Tod ate her oatmeal with little pleasure. She gulped down her drink and then she and Rose got up and left, Tod uncomfortably aware of the gimlet stares from the Knights of Knee following them. Outside the canteen she said, “Rose, can I ask you something, please?”

  Rose smiled. “Of course you can. What do you want to know?”

  “It’s about some Charms. From Draxx.”

  Rose looked puzzled. “But there aren’t any Charms in Draxx.”

  “There were some in the Manuscriptorium’s copy,” Tod said, hoping that she wasn’t giving away Oskar’s secret.

  Rose frowned. “Are you sure? It’s not on our shared inventory.”

  “I think they just found them,” Tod said.

  “The Manuscriptorium should have told me,” Rose said. “We are meant to share our Charm inventories. I shall be having a word with their Chief about this.”

  “Oh, but I’m sure they will tell you,” Tod said, feeling bad.

  “Hmm.” Rose seemed unconvinced. “So, what did you want to know about these Charms? They’re old reptile ones, I imagine?”

  “I’ve got one . . . look . . .” Tod began to open the pocket in her Apprentice belt but Rose stopped her.

  “Not here.” Rose glanced back to see the Knights of Knee wandering gloomily out of the canteen. “Why don’t you come up to the Charm Chamber? It’s more private.”

  Halfway up the spiral stairs the priority signal—an insistent beep—sounded. This alert was for a change in direction—the ExtraOrdinary Wizard was on his way down. Tod and Rose stepped off and waited. A few minutes later they saw the distinctive purple hem of robes of the ExtraOrdinary Wizard. Rose looked awkward, Tod thought, as Septimus revolved down toward them. He caught sight of his Apprentice and smiled. “Good Morning, Tod,” he said, his voice changing as the stairs took him around, and then as he revolved back, a more strained “Hello, Rose.”

  “Hello, Septimus,” Rose replied.

  “Sorry to override the stairs,” Septimus said. “I was happy to wait, but you know the stairs have a mind of their own.”

  “That’s okay,” Rose said.

  “Oh . . . good,” Septimus said. “I’m just, um, posting a letter.”

  “Fine,” Rose said.

  Septimus glanced down a little guiltily at the letter he was carrying. “Tod, I was hoping you might be free, actually.”

  “Oh!” Tod said.

  Septimus had now traveled past them and was disappearing down to the floor below. Rose gave Tod a little push. “You should go,” she said. “The ExtraOrdinary Wizard takes priority.”

  “Not always, Rose,” Septimus’s voice drifted up toward them. “As you well know.”

  Rose sighed. She gave Tod a rueful smile and said, “Come and see me when you can. I’m in the Charm Chamber all day.”

  And so Tod found herself heading back down to the Great Hall, with an uncomfortable feeling that there was more to the Languid Lizard Charms than Oskar realized. And a good deal more to Rose and Septimus, too.

  GRULA GAMES

  Septimus was waiting at the foot of the stairs. “I’d like you to help Lucy Heap today,” he told Tod. “It’s a tight schedule to get the Orm Pit ready for this afternoon and Lucy needs a runner.”

  Tod did not look enthusiastic and Septimus mistook her expression.

  “Tod,” he said, “you must not pay too much attention to what Marcia says about the risks of having the Ormlet here. She worries too much. And I believe she is, on this occasion, wrong.”

  “But the Ormlet might not have to come here yet. It might give the circlet back,” Tod said.

  “And pigs might fly,” Septimus said, laughing. “And loop the loop with the Ormlet.”

  Tod resigned herself to a day of being bossed around by Lucy Heap. “But can I see the Grula first? Please?” she asked. Benhira-Benhara Grula-Grula was a skilled ShapeShifter. He had a fine repertoire of guises and enjoyed playing to his audience. Most mornings the Grula-Grula appeared in a different Shape, and Tod loved to see him.

  Septimus smiled. “All right, stay and see what Ben’s doing today. But after that it’s straight off to Lucy.”

  On the other side of the hall was a newly painted, shiny orange door. This had until recently been the entrance to the Stranger Chamber—a holding pen for undesirables who had found their way into the Wizard Tower. It now sported a large brass knocker and a sign declaring it to be: The Residence of Benhira-Benhara Grula-Grula. Suddenly three Senior Apprentices—Newt and two friends—came hurtling toward it. Newt slammed the doorknocker and another yelled through the keyhole, “Wakey wakey, Fuzzball!” then fell laughing against the door.

  Septimus was across the Great Hall like a missile. “What,” he demanded, “do you think you are doing?”

  Tod was pleased to see Newt go white with shock. “Ner-nothing,” he stammered. “I . . . er . . .”

  “I will not have this kind of—” The orange door began to open; Septimus stopped midsentence and turned as pale as Newt. Newt shrieked and fell into a faint. His two accomplices turned and ran. Someone behind Tod screamed. Septimus swore. Tod put her hands over her face.

  Dripping with slime, a ten-foot-tall, matte black human skeleton with a tusked head of a beast stood in the doorway, surveying those trembling before it. Tod peered through her fingers with a mixture of horror and fascination. It looked terrifying, but oddly it didn’t feel Darke. Tod lowered her hands and looked at Septimus, wondering what he was going to do.

  Like Tod, Septimus could feel no Darkenesse in the manifestation of what he knew to be a Kraan: something extremely dangerous for Wizards, particularly young ones. Despite being almost certain that the Kraan was actually Benhira-Benhara Grula-Grula performing an angry ShapeShift, Septimus had learned not to take things at face value. The Wizard Tower was a strange place, and it was not unknown for truly Darke beings to manifest themselves within its walls. Somewhat anxiously, Septimus recalled the subject of another of his disagreements with Marcia—the Darke Magyk tutorials for final year Apprentices that he held on floor eighteen. The thought crossed his mind that maybe Marcia was right about the perils of “inviting the Darke,” as she put it. But whether this was real or not, Septimus knew he must show no weakness. If this was a real Kraan, it would be fatal. And if it wasn’t, which he sincerely hoped was the case, it would do his reputation no good. Taking care not to be within arm’s length of the beast—he knew that one touch of a Kraan would kill—Septimus stepped forward and looked up at its face. He breathed a sigh of relief. Not only did the creature have merely two eyes—rather than the standard Kraan complement of six—but they were undoubtedly Grula-Grula pink rather than Kraan red.

  “Benhira-Benhara, I request that you Shift your Shape immediately,” Septimus said, trying to keep the annoyance from his voice. He did not succeed and the Grula-Grula became distressed. Its Shape began to drip copious amounts of black slime, to which the floor responded with the words, FOUL! FOUL! FOUL! spreading out from the slime like shrieks of disgust and encircling Septimus’s feet. The floor then added: GET IT OUT OF HERE, EXTRAORDINARY WIZARD. THE SLIME IS SOAKING INTO MY BITS.

  Septimus took a deep breath and said in the most pleasant tone he could muster, “Dear Benhira-Benhara, I pray you become your beautiful Grula self once more.”

  This was more acceptable. A tint of orange began to creep across the darkness of the Kraan skeleton and
its outlines became fuzzy. Within thirty seconds the comforting sight of a ten-foot-tall triangle of orange fur stood in its place. From within the fur two little arms emerged; they reached up to the Grula-Grula’s head and two slender hands parted the fur to reveal a shiny, pink, flat face. The little mouth smiled at Septimus. “Good morning, ExtraOrdinary Wizard,” came a surprisingly high-pitched voice.

  “Good morning, Benhira-Benhara Grula-Grula,” Septimus replied, a little snappily. “I would be grateful if you would keep the Darke ShapeShifts for outside this place. Perhaps for Hallowseeth in the Port. But not here, please.”

  “I apologize.” The Grula-Grula sounded crestfallen. “I was alarmed by the assault upon my door. It is our default Shape, you know. When we are distressed.”

  “I understand,” Septimus said. “And I in turn apologize for the rude behavior of our Apprentices. I am so sorry you have been distressed by their actions.”

  The Grula-Grula bowed. “And I am desolated to have distressed you, ExtraOrdinary Wizard. Pray, how may I make amends?”

  Septimus fished the precious letter out of his pocket. “Well, seeing as you have asked, Benhira-Benhara, I would be most grateful if you would take a letter to the Eastern SnowPlains for me.”

  Tod—who was enjoying watching Newt Makken’s friends unceremoniously dragging him away by his feet—suddenly paid attention. Why was Septimus sending a letter to the Eastern SnowPlains? She soon found out.

  “It is for Princess Driffa,” Septimus said. “Would you be able to deliver it to the Snow Palace? I realize that is a little out of your way.”

  The Grula-Grula was anxious to get back into Septimus’s good books. He loved being at the Wizard Tower. After years of drifting around the Ancient Ways, trying to find somewhere he belonged, he had—after a false start in a shop selling cloaks—found in the Castle a place where people liked him and sought his company. The Grula-Grula loved being invited to parties and asked out to lunch; he basked in the smiles and friendly greetings that came his way when he sat in the Great Hall of the Wizard Tower and watched the world go by. He had at last found a home, and he dreaded being asked to leave. And so he said, “It will be my pleasure to deliver this personally to Snow Princess Driffa, the Most High and Bountiful.”

  Dismayed, Septimus looked down at the plain Princess Driffa that he had written on the front of the sealed letter. He had totally forgotten about Driffa’s numerous honorifics—and her insistence upon their use. But there was no way he could face rewriting the letter. It would have to go as it was. Septimus placed the letter on the Grula-Grula’s delicate pink upturned palm with a heavy heart. He no longer expected a reply.

  The Grula-Grula stuffed the letter deep into his fur and then he turned to Tod and bowed. “Miss Alice,” he said. “Greetings, PathFinder.”

  Tod smiled. The Grula-Grula was—apart from her guardian, Dr. Dandra Draa—the only person who called her Alice without annoying her. “Good morning, Benhira-Benhara,” she replied, and bowed in return.

  “Miss Alice, I would be most honored if you would accompany me upon my journey,” Benhira-Benhara said. “It is always a delight to travel the Ways with a PathFinder.”

  But Tod’s hopes of avoiding a day as Lucy Heap’s runner were soon dashed.

  “Benhira-Benhara, I thank you,” Septimus quickly replied. “You honor my Apprentice with your generous offer, but I regret that I must decline on her behalf. She has essential Magykal work to do today and I cannot possibly spare her. Perhaps another time?”

  The Grula-Grula bowed. “Indeed, ExtraOrdinary, another time. I shall look forward to it immensely. But I trust you will spare Miss Alice to accompany me to the arch and wish me well?”

  “With pleasure, Benhira-Benhara,” Septimus replied. As Tod and the Grula-Grula walked out of the Wizard Tower, Septimus called out, “Homework tonight, Tod—read up about Kraan.”

  “Kraan?” asked Tod.

  Septimus smiled. “You’ll see why,” he said, and then added, “Have a nice day.”

  Tod thought that was unlikely. Together she and the Grula-Grula went down the wide white marble steps. They made a strange couple, a ten-foot-tall triangle of orange fur accompanying a small human in green, half its size. At the foot of the steps, they took a sharp left turn and walked back to the base of the Wizard Tower. Here, where most people would have a cupboard under the stairs, the Wizard Tower had a Hidden arch—its very own entrance to the Ancient Ways. This one connected directly with the Keep, where Marcia Overstrand, ex–ExtraOrdinary Wizard, now lived. Unlike most people, both Tod and the Grula-Grula could see within the white marble the shadowy shape of the arch, with the number VII inscribed upon its keystone. The Grula-Grula stretched out his arm, and at the touch of his little pink palm the arch began to glow. Tod looked at it wistfully. With the choke of dust in the air and the sound of hammering from behind the Tower, she imagined traveling the Ways home and spending the day out at sea, fishing with her father. The thought was almost too much to bear, but Tod told herself sternly that she was an Apprentice now, and her job was to be at the Wizard Tower and learn Magyk. Besides, soon enough she would be going home for her birthday and the MidSummer Circle.

  The Grula-Grula gave a farewell bow. Tod returned it and stepped back. She watched the triangle of orange fur step into the arch and move smoothly toward an enticing white mist. With a sense of awe Tod saw the Grula-Grula blend into the mist, and then he was gone. The glow faded from the arch beneath the steps, and it resumed its shadowy form.

  Tod walked slowly around to the back of the Wizard Tower, where she was greeted by Lucy Heap with a clipboard directing operations. “Ah, Tod!” Lucy said. “You’re just in time. We need essential supplies.” She handed Tod a list:

  10 packets of Squashed Fly biscuits

  10 Nut Bomb bars

  2 boxes of tea

  1 bottle of milk

  4 bags of sugar

  “Thanks, Tod,” Lucy said. “That should keep them going for the morning. And when you come back you can help with mixing the mortar.”

  Great, thought Tod gloomily, as she went out through the back gate and headed off to the Castle General Stores. Mixing mortar. Just great.

  SERPENT’S SNOOK

  Kicking a pebble as she went, Tod walked slowly along Serpent’s Snook, the winding alley that led to the Castle Stores. The alley did not raise her spirits. It was dark and smelled of cat pee. Thoughts of the sun, boats and fresh sea breezes began to torment Tod yet again, and she was very nearly tempted to turn around, run through Arch VII and go home. If she hadn’t found a small, green ball made of scuffed leather bouncing along the alley in an oddly purposeful manner, she might well have done so.

  It was the sound that Tod had first noticed: a gentle bing-bing-bing, as the sound of its bounces echoed off the alleyway’s high brick walls. Tod fell into step beside the ball, fascinated by its slow but determined onward motion. She put her hand out to touch the ball as it came up from a bounce, and a twinge of Darke Magyk sent a tingle through her fingers. She dropped back a little, but was not deterred. She had never found anything obviously Magykal outside the Wizard Tower—and she had never seen anything like the green ball inside the Wizard Tower either. This was something special.

  Some five minutes later the ball and Tod rounded the last bend of Serpent’s Snook. The alley opened out into Snook’s Nook, a square bounded by small workshops on three sides and on the fourth the high walls of the most populated area of the Castle: the Ramblings. Set into the base of the walls was a line of five vaulted caverns from which the Castle Stores traded. Above the vaults, the walls of the Ramblings rose up, dotted with myriad windows, balconies and lines of washing stuck precariously out on sticks. Tod had spent a whole day on a tour of the Ramblings and had only seen a small part of it. It was a massive warren of a place, full of winding corridors, tiny courtyards, wells, shops, theaters, a hospital, workshops and schools. Thousands of people lived there in a variety of rooms, apartments and rooftop hou
ses—and most of them did their grocery shopping at the Castle Stores.

  As the ball bounced merrily into Snook’s Nook, Tod considered what to do. She could keep following the ball, or she could get Lucy’s shopping. Lucy’s shopping lost: it did not stand a chance against the mystery of the little green ball. Tod focused all her attention on the ball. It had now sped up and was moving in short, quick bounces so she had to break into a trot to keep up. It bounced rapidly across the front of the Castle Stores, past the store backboard, the vegetable display, the bread stall, and then with a dramatic spin to the left it headed into the stores. Tod was after it in seconds, but she was too late. The ball was nowhere to be seen.

  It was dark inside and busy with shoppers. Tod pushed her way through, keeping her eyes to the ground, determined to catch up with what she now thought of as her ball. It was so easy to lose a ball in a shop, she thought. It could have bounced into someone’s bag, it could be hiding in a dark and dusty corner—there were plenty of those to choose from—or maybe, Tod thought as she checked out a display of limes, it might just be resting somewhere it would not be noticed. She was on the verge of giving up the search and actually getting Lucy’s shopping when a piercing scream rang out and she heard a familiar voice yell, “Argh! Get it off! Get it off me!”

  Tod pushed her way through the shoppers and headed toward the back of the store where the yells were coming from. There she found exactly whom she had expected—Marissa. But she also found something she had not expected—the little green ball.

  The ball was bouncing on the spot beside Marissa, seeming to Tod to be excited to have found a long-lost friend. Marissa clearly did not feel the same way. Shrieking, “Get off me! Get off!” she was flailing her arms, trying to bat the ball away, but with no success. Nimbly avoiding every swipe and yet bouncing in tight enough circles to prevent Marissa from moving, the ball reminded Tod of a sheepdog she had recently watched in the Farmlands, corralling a lost sheep and keeping it penned in until the farmer came to collect it.