Septimus Heap Complete Collection

by Angie Sage

  “Bye, Jen,” he said. “Must go. Tomorrow’s a big day.”

  Jenna made a big effort to shake off her disappointment. She didn’t want Septimus to leave with bad feelings between them.

  “I know,” she agreed. “Happy birthday, Sep.”

  Jenna thought Septimus looked slightly surprised.

  “Oh . . . yes. Thanks.”

  “It’ll be such fun tomorrow,” she said, linking her arm through his reluctant one and walking him toward the Palace doors. “It’s great us having birthdays on the same day, don’t you think? It’s like we’re twins. And on the Longest Night too, it’s so special with all the Castle lit up. Like it’s especially for us.”

  “Yeah.” Septimus looked distracted, and Jenna could tell all he wanted to do was to get out of the door as fast as he could. “I really must go, Jen. I’ll see you tomorrow evening.”

  “I’ll walk you to the gates,”

  “Oh.” Septimus did not sound very enthusiastic.

  They made their way down the drive, Septimus hurrying, Jenna trotting along beside.

  “Sep . . .” said Jenna, breathless.

  “Yeah?” Septimus sounded wary.

  “Dad says you’re at the same stage in your Apprenticeship as he was when he gave up.”

  “Mmm. S’pose I am.”

  “And one of the reasons he gave up, he said, was because he was going to have to do a bunch of Darke stuff and he didn’t want to bring it home.”

  Septimus slowed down. “There were lots of reasons Dad gave up, Jen. Like he’d heard about the Queste too soon, and Mum was finding it tough on her own and he was going to have to work nights. All kinds of stuff.”

  “It was the Darke, Sep. That’s what he told me.”

  “Huh. He says that now.”

  “He’s worried about you. And so am I.”

  “Well, you shouldn’t be,” Septimus said irritably.

  “But, Sep—”

  Septimus had had enough. Impatiently he shook Jenna’s arm off.

  “Jen, please—leave me alone. I have stuff to do and I’m going now. I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that Septimus strode off, and this time Jenna let him go.

  Jenna walked slowly back across the grass, her feet crunching through a dusting of frost, and fought off tears—Septimus hadn’t even wished her “happy birthday.” As she wandered miserably into the Palace, Jenna could not get him out of her mind. Recently she had begun to feel like an outsider in his life—an annoying outsider from whom secrets had to be kept. In order to understand more about what Septimus was doing, Jenna had begun to ask Silas questions about his own Apprenticeship to Alther long ago, and she did not always like what she heard.

  Jenna did not feel like going back to the happy group clustered around Sarah’s sitting room fire. She took a lighted candle from one of the hall tables and made her way up the wide flight of carved oak stairs that led from the Palace entrance hall to the first floor. She walked slowly along the corridor, her footsteps muffled on the threadbare carpet, nodding to the assorted ghosts who always Appeared when they saw the Princess. Ignoring the short, wide passageway that led to her bedroom, Jenna decided to take one more look at the attic stairs—Septimus had made her wonder if she was indeed worrying about nothing.

  A rushlight burned steadily at the foot of the stairs, for which Jenna was grateful—because looking up the flight of bare, worn wooden stairs that disappeared into the darkness gave her the creeps. Telling herself that Septimus probably was right and there was nothing at all to worry about, Jenna began to climb the stairs. She told herself that if she got to the top and everything was all right, she would forget all about it, but when Jenna was one step below the top she stopped. In front of her was a deep darkness that seemed to move and shift as she looked at it. It felt as if it were alive. Jenna was confused—part of her was terrified and yet another part of her suddenly felt elated. She had the strangest feeling that if only she stepped up into the darkness, she would see everything she had ever wanted to see, even her real mother, Queen Cerys. And as she thought about meeting her mother, the feeling of terror began to fade and Jenna longed to step into the dark, into the best place to be in the whole world—the place she had always been searching for.

  Suddenly Jenna felt a tap on her shoulder. She wheeled around and saw the ghost of the governess who Haunted the Palace looking for two lost princesses staring at her.

  “Come away, Esmeralda, come away,” wailed the ghost. “It is Darke in there. Come away . . .” Exhausted by having Caused a tap on Jenna’s shoulder, the ghost of the governess faded away and was not seen for many years hence.

  Jenna’s desire to step into the darkness evaporated. She turned and ran, clattering down the stairs two at a time. She did not stop running until she reached the broad, bright corridor that led to her bedroom and saw the friendly figure of Sir Hereward, the ancient ghost who guarded the double doors to her bedroom.

  Sir Hereward sprang to attention. “Good evening, Princess,” he said. “Early to bed, I see. A big day tomorrow.” The ghost smiled. “It’s not every day a Princess turns fourteen.”

  “No,” said Jenna despondently.

  “Ah, the pressure of advancing years already, I see.” Sir Hereward chuckled. “But let me tell you, fourteen is nothing to worry about, Princess. Look at me, I’ve had hundreds of birthdays—lost count of ’em in fact—and I’m fine.”

  Jenna could not help but smile. The ghost was anything but fine. Dusty and faded, his armor dented, he was missing an arm, quite a few teeth and—she had recently noticed when he had removed his helmet—his left ear and a fair chunk of the side of his head. Plus, of course, he was dead. But that didn’t seem to worry Sir Hereward. Jenna sternly told herself to stop being so miserable and enjoy life. Septimus would get over whatever it was and things would be fine again. In fact, tomorrow she would go to the last day of the Traders’ Market and get him something for his birthday that would make him laugh—something more fun than the Compleat History of Magyk that she had already bought him from Wyvald’s Witchy Bookstore.

  “There, that’s better.” Sir Hereward beamed. “Fourteen’s an exciting day for a Princess, you’ll see. Now, here’s a good one. This will really cheer you up. How do you put a giraffe in a wardrobe?”

  “I don’t know, Sir Hereward. How do you put a giraffe in a wardrobe?”

  “You open the wardrobe door, put it in and close the door. So how do you put an elephant in the wardrobe?”

  “I don’t know. How do you put an elephant in a wardrobe?”

  “You open the door, take out the giraffe and put the elephant in. Hur hur.”

  Jenna laughed. “That is so silly, Sir Hereward.”

  Sir Hereward giggled. “Isn’t it? I mean, I’m sure you could fit them both in if you really tried.”

  “Yes . . . well, good night, Sir Hereward. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  The ancient ghost bowed, and Jenna pushed opened the grand double doors and went into her bedroom. As the doors closed, Sir Hereward resumed his post on guard, extra vigilant. Every Palace ghost knew that birthdays could be a dangerous time for a Princess. Sir Hereward was determined that nothing was going to happen to Jenna on his watch.

  * * *

  Once inside her room, Jenna could not settle—she felt a strange mixture of excitement and melancholy. Restless, she went to one of the tall windows and drew back the heavy red curtains to look out at the river. Watching the river at night was something she had loved to do ever since Silas had made her a little box bed in the cupboard in the Ramblings, where there was a tiny window that looked directly down on the water. In Jenna’s opinion, the view from her grand windows at the Palace was greatly inferior to the one she had had in her cupboard—from her old perch at the Ramblings she had been able to see the tide’s ebb and flow, which had always fascinated her. Very often there had been a few fishing boats tied up to one of the huge rings set into the walls far below, and she would watch the fishermen clean
their catch and mend their nets. Here all she ever saw were distant boats passing back and forth and the moonlight reflected in the water.

  That night, however, there was no moon. It was, Jenna knew, the last night of the old moon, and the moon did not rise until very nearly sunrise. Tomorrow night—her birthday night—would be the Dark of the Moon, when it would not rise at all. But even without the moon, the night sky was still beautiful. The clouds had blown away and the stars shone bright and clear.

  Jenna drew the heavy curtains behind her so she was in the dark, cold space between them and the window. She stood still, waiting for her eyes to become accustomed to the dark. Her warm breath began to mist the window; she rubbed the glass clear and peered out at the river.

  At first sight it appeared deserted, which was not a surprise to Jenna. Not many boats went out at night. And then she caught sight of a movement down by the landing stage. Squeakily she rubbed the window once more and squinted out. There was someone on the landing stage—it was Septimus. He looked as if he were in conversation with someone, although there was no one to be seen. Jenna knew at once that he was talking to the ghost of Alice Nettles—poor Alice Nettles, who had lost her Alther for a second time. Since her terrible loss, Alice had DisAppeared and had taken to wandering around the Castle looking for Alther. She was the source of the disembodied voice that would sometimes whisper in people’s ears, “Where has he gone? Have you seen him, have you seen him?”

  Jenna cupped her hands over her nose to protect the glass from her breath and stared into the night. She saw Septimus finish his conversation and walk briskly away, speeding along beside the river, heading toward the side gate that would take him out near Wizard Way.

  Jenna longed to throw open the window and climb down the ivy—as she had done many times before—then run across the lawns, waylay Septimus and tell him what had just happened at the top of the attic stairs. The old Septimus would have come back with her, there and then. But not now, Jenna thought sadly. Now Septimus had more important things to do—secret things.

  Suddenly aware of how cold she was, Jenna slipped out from behind the curtains and went over to the fire, where three huge logs were blazing in the ancient stone fireplace. And as she stood holding her hands out to warm in front of the crackling fire, Jenna wondered what Septimus was talking to Alice about. She knew that even if she asked him he wouldn’t tell her.

  It wasn’t only Alice who had lost someone, Jenna thought sadly.

  Chapter 4

  Apprentices

  The morning of his fourteenth birthday, Septimus was up before dawn. Quickly he cleaned and tidied the Pyramid Library—as he did every morning, even on his birthday. He found an unwrapped present from Marcia hidden under a pile of books to be filed. It was a small but very beautiful gold and silver Enlarging Glass. Attached to its ivory handle was a purple tag, which read: To Septimus. Happy Magykal Fourteenth Birthday. With love from Marcia. Septimus put the Glass in his pocket with a smile. It wasn’t often that Marcia signed her name “with love.”

  Some minutes later the heavy purple door that guarded the entrance to the ExtraOrdinary Wizard’s rooms swung open, and Septimus headed for the silver spiral stairs at the end of the landing, setting off on a visit he had made every day since he had returned from the Isles of Syren. Taking a chance that there were no Wizards about so early, he put the stairs into emergency mode and whizzed down to the seventh floor. Dizzy but exhilarated—there was nothing quite like an emergency run to wake one up—Septimus stepped off the stairs and walked a little unsteadily along a dimly lit corridor toward a door marked ICK BAY (the S having recently evaporated during an Ordinary Apprentice’s spell that had gone wrong).

  The ICK BAY door opened quietly and Septimus stepped into a dimly lit, circular room with ten beds arranged around the wall like the numbers on a clockface. Only two of the beds were occupied—one by a Wizard who had fallen down the Wizard Tower steps and broken her toe, the other by an elderly Wizard who had “felt a bit funny” the previous day. Two of the clockface spaces were taken by doors—one that Septimus had just come through and another, at the seven o’clock space, leading away from the sick bay. In the center was a circular desk, in the middle of which sat the night duty Wizard and the new sick bay Apprentice, Rose. Rose, her long brown hair tucked behind her ears, was busy as ever, scribbling in her project book and devising new Charms.

  Septimus approached. Rose and the Wizard gave him friendly smiles. They knew him well, for he visited every day—although usually not so early.

  “No change,” whispered Rose.

  Septimus nodded. He had long given up expecting to hear anything different.

  Rose got up from her chair. It was her job to escort visitors to the DisEnchanting Chamber. Septimus followed her over to the narrow door set in the wall at the seven o’clock space. Its surface had a shifting quality to it, typical of the effect that strong Wizard Tower Magyk produced. Rose placed her hand on the surface and quickly withdrew it, leaving a fleeting purple handprint behind. The door swung open, then she and Septimus stepped into an antechamber. The door closed behind them and Rose repeated the process with another door in front of them. It too swung open, and this time Septimus alone walked through. He entered a small pentagonal room suffused with a deep blue light.

  “I’ll leave you now,” whispered Rose. “Call me if there’s anything you need or . . . well, if there’s any change.”

  Septimus nodded.

  There was a heady smell of Magyk in the chamber, for within it a gentle DisEnchanting force was allowed to run free. The force circled counterclockwise, and Septimus could feel it warm upon his skin, tingling like drying salt water after a swim in the ocean. He stood still and breathed in deeply a few times to balance himself. For anyone with any Magyk in them, DisEnchantment is a peculiar thing to be close to, and the first few times he had entered the chamber Septimus had become extremely dizzy. Now that he was used to it he merely felt wobbly for a few moments. However, something that he had never quite got used to was the eerie sight of the DisEnchantment cocoon—a delicate hammock made from the softest unspun sheep’s wool—which appeared to float in midair, although it was actually suspended by invisible Forrest Bands, invented by a long-gone ExtraOrdinary Wizard.

  Feeling as if he were walking underwater, Septimus slowly approached the cocoon, pushing through eddies of DisEnchantment. Swathed in the wool lay a figure so insubstantial that sometimes Septimus was afraid she might disappear at any moment. But so far Syrah Syara, the occupant of the cocoon, had resisted disappearing—although it was a known risk of DisEnchantment, and the longer the process went on, the greater the risk became.

  Septimus looked at Syrah’s bluish face, which reflected the light of the chamber and seemed almost transparent. Her brown hair had been neatly plaited, giving her a prim, doll-like appearance—so different from the wild, windblown Syrah he had first met on the Isle of Syren.

  “Hello, Syrah,” he said quietly. “It’s me, Septimus.” Syrah did not react, but Septimus knew that that did not necessarily mean she could not hear him. Many people who had successfully emerged from DisEnchantment were able to recount conversations that had taken place in the chamber.

  “I’m early today,” Septimus continued. “The sun isn’t even up yet. I want to tell you that I won’t be able to come and see you for the next few days.” He stopped to see if his words were having any effect. There was no reaction and Septimus felt a little upset—he had half hoped that a flicker of disappointment might cross Syrah’s face.

  “It’s my Darke Week coming up,” Septimus continued. “And . . . um . . . I want to tell you what I’m going to be doing. Because you’ve done it and you know how scary it feels before you go . . . and I can’t tell anyone else. I mean, I can’t tell anyone who’s not completed an Apprenticeship to an ExtraOrdinary Wizard. Which doesn’t leave many people—well, only Marcia and you, in fact. Of course there would have been Alther before, well . . . you know what happ
ened. Oh, I know he was a ghost and there are lots of ExtraOrdinary Wizard and Apprentice ghosts around but Alther is—I mean was—different. He felt real, like he was still alive. Oh, Syrah, I miss Alther. I really do. And . . . that’s what I wanted to tell you—I’m going to get Alther back. I am. Marcia doesn’t want me to, but it’s my choice and she can’t stop me. All Apprentices have the right to choose what they do in their Darke Week and I’ve chosen. I’m going down into the Darke Halls.”

  Septimus paused. He wondered whether he had told Syrah too much. If she really could hear him and understand every word he said, then all he had done was to leave her alone to worry about him. Septimus told himself not to be silly. Just because he had grown to care about what happened to Syrah, it didn’t mean that she cared equally about him. In fact, he told himself, if she was aware of his visits she was more likely to feel relieved at the prospect of getting a rest from him. He grinned ruefully. Something Jenna had said to him more than once recently came back to him: “Not everything revolves around you, Sep.”

  Feeling a little awkward, he finished his visit. “So, er, good-bye then. I’ll be fine and, um, I hope you will be too. I’ll see you when I get back.” Septimus would have liked to give Syrah a quick good-bye kiss but that was not possible. A person in the process of DisEnchantment must not be connected to anything that is earthbound. This was why the Forrest Bands holding Syrah suspended had been such a breakthrough—they Magykally broke the connection with earth and allowed the DisEnchantment to work. Most of the time.

  Septimus left the DisEnchanting Chamber, made his way through the antechamber and stepped out into the sick bay. Rose gave him a friendly wave, which he returned briefly and, still feeling embarrassed, he left the sick bay and walked back down the corridor, telling himself, “Not everything revolves around you, you dillop.”

  * * *

  However, that day in the Wizard Tower it seemed that, dillop or not, everything did revolve around him. A fourteenth birthday for an Apprentice was a special one—being twice the Magykal number seven—and naturally the entire population of the Wizard Tower wanted to wish Septimus a happy birthday, particularly as there was no birthday banquet to look forward to that evening. Sarah Heap’s determination to have Septimus at the Palace that night had not gone down well at the Wizard Tower.