by Angie Sage
“Thank you, Jenna, I’ll handle this,” said Marcia. “Sarah, it is my job to ensure the safety of the Palace. There’s a Cordon encircling the building and I am now putting it in Quarantine.”
Sarah looked exasperated. “Look here, Marcia, there is no need to go to such extremes. I don’t know what Septimus or Jenna have been telling you about the party, but you really mustn’t take any notice. Their father and I will be here and we have no intention of letting things get out of hand.”
“It seems they already have got out of hand, Sarah,” said Marcia. She put her hand up to stop Sarah’s protests. “Sarah, listen to me, I am not talking about the party. And may I say, the fact that you and Silas have been here appears to have been no safeguard against anything whatsoever. Indeed, I am surprised—and not a little disappointed—that Silas has allowed this to happen.”
“It’s only a little birthday party, Marcia,” Sarah said snappily. “Of course we’ve allowed it to happen.”
“Sarah, for goodness’ sake, listen to what I am saying. I am not talking about the birthday party,” Marcia replied, equally snappily. “And you can stop waving that hammer around too.”
Sarah looked at the hammer in her hand as though she was surprised to find it there. She shrugged and placed it on the stepladder.
“Thank you,” said Marcia.
“So what are you talking about?” Sarah demanded.
“I am talking about your lodger in the attic.”
“What lodger? We don’t have lodgers,” Sarah said indignantly. “Things may be a bit tough sometimes but we haven’t had to rent the Palace out as a guesthouse quite yet. And even if we did, I hardly think we need your permission, thank you very much.” Sarah folded up the stepladder with an angry bang and began to heave it into the Long Walk. Beetle stepped forward and took it from her.
“Thank you, Beetle,” said Sarah, “that’s very sweet of you. Excuse me, Marcia, I have things to do.” With that she began gathering up the remains of streamers that were scattered across the floor.
“Mum,” said Jenna, handing her some fallen streamers. “Mum, please. There’s something horrible here. We have to—”
But Sarah was not in a mood to listen. “And you can take that witch cloak off right now, Jenna. It smells awful—just like the real thing.”
Marcia raised her voice. “This is my final warning. I am about to Quarantine this building.” She got out her timepiece and laid it on her palm. “You have five minutes from now to vacate the premises.”
This was too much for Sarah. She stood up and, hands on hips, hair angrily awry, she raised her voice even louder. “Now look here, Marcia Overstrand, I have had quite enough of you barging in on my daughter’s birthday—and my son’s too, as it happens—and tearing everything apart. I will thank you to go away and leave us in peace.”
Hildegarde had been watching Marcia’s handling of the proceedings with dismay. Before her promotion to the Wizard Tower, Hildegarde had been on door duty at the Palace. She knew Sarah Heap well and she liked her a lot. Hildegarde stepped forward and laid her hand on Sarah’s arm.
“Sarah, I’m very sorry, but this is extremely serious,” she said. “There really is someone in your attic and he has, so it seems, set up a Darke Domaine in there. Madam Marcia has placed a protective Cordon around the Palace to prevent the Domaine escaping and now, for the safety of all of us in the Castle, she needs to place the Palace in Quarantine. I’m so sorry this had to happen today of all days, but we dare not leave it a moment longer. You do understand, don’t you?”
Sarah stared at Hildegarde in disbelief. She wiped a hand across her forehead and sank into a battered old armchair. A faint groan came from the chair, and Sarah sprang to her feet. “Oh, sorry, Godric,” she said, apologizing to the very faded ghost who had fallen asleep in the chair some years ago. The ghost slept on.
“Is this true?” Sarah asked Marcia.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, if only you’d listen.”
“You haven’t been trying to tell me anything,” Sarah pointed out. “You have been issuing instructions. As usual.” She looked around, worried. “Where’s Silas?”
Her question was answered by the sound of running footsteps above. Silas Heap, blue Ordinary Wizard robes flying as, two at a time, he raced down the sweeping stairs that led down to the entrance hall was yelling, “Everyone—get out, get out!”
Silas skidded to a halt at the foot of the stairs and, for the first time in his life, he looked pleased to see Marcia. “Marcia,” he puffed. “Oh, thank goodness you’re here. My SafetyGate has been broken. It’s got out of the attic. It’s upstairs now and it’s filling the place up—fast. We’ve got to get a Quarantine put on. Marcia, you need to do a Call Out, get a Cordon around if we’ve got time—”
“All done,” Marcia told Silas briskly. “The Cordon of Wizards is in position.”
Silas was stunned into silence.
Marcia got down to business. “Is there anyone else in the Palace?”
Sarah shook her head. “Snorri and her mother have gone off on their boat. The Pots have gone to see the lights. Maizie’s out lighting up, Cook’s gone home with a cold, and no one’s arrived for the party yet.”
“Good,” said Marcia. She glanced up to the top of the wide flight of stairs, which led to a gallery from which the upstairs corridor ran the length of the Palace. Along the gallery, the rushlights were burning as usual, but the dimming of the light where the corridor stretched away both to the left and right told Marcia that the more distant lights were being extinguished. The Darke Domaine was getting closer.
“Everyone will exit the premises,” she said. “Now!”
“Ethel!” gasped Sarah. She raced off and disappeared into the Long Walk.
“Ethel? Who on earth is Ethel?” Marcia glanced up to the gallery. The flame on the farthest rushlight began to dim.
“Ethel’s a duck,” said Silas.
“A duck?”
But Silas was gone, racing off in pursuit of Sarah—and Maxie, who he just remembered he had left sitting by the fire that morning.
Up on the gallery the first rushlight had gone out and the flame on a second, nearer rushlight was faltering. Marcia looked at Jenna, Beetle and Hildegarde. “It’s moving fast. If I don’t do the Quarantine now, this is going to get out. And frankly, I am not sure that our Cordon will hold it. We are very widely spaced. And I certainly won’t have time to Raise a Safety Curtain.”
“You can’t leave Mum and Dad,” gasped Jenna.
“I have no choice. They’re putting the whole Castle at risk—for a duck.”
“You can’t do that! I’m going to go and get them.” With that Jenna raced off. Hildegarde darted after her and grabbed her witch’s cloak.
Jenna spun around angrily. “Let go!”
The cloak felt horrible to the touch, but Hildegarde doggedly hung on. “No, Princess Jenna, you mustn’t go. It’s too risky. I’ll go. They’ll be in Sarah’s sitting room, yes?”
Jenna nodded. “Yes, but—”
“I’ll get them out of the window.” Hildegarde glanced at Marcia, calculating how long it would take to get to Sarah’s sitting room. “Give me . . . count me to a hundred and then do it. Okay?”
Marcia looked up at the landing. A wall of darkness now blocked any view of the corridors. She shook her head. “Seventy-five.”
Hildegarde gulped. “Okay. Seventy-five.” And she was gone.
“One,” began Marcia. “Two, three, four . . .” She signed to Beetle and Jenna to leave. Jenna shook her head.
Beetle took Jenna’s arm. “You must leave,” he said. “Your parents would not want you to stay. Hildegarde will get them out.”
“No. I can’t go without Mum and Dad.”
“Jenna, you have to. You are the Princess. You must be safe.”
“I’m sick of being safe,” she hissed.
But Beetle backed out of the Palace doors, taking Jenna with him. Once outsid
e he took a small, fat tube from his pocket. “I’ve got the Flare,” he called to Marcia.
Marcia gave him a thumbs-up. “Thirty-five, thirty-six . . .”
“What Flare?” asked Jenna.
“To Activate the Cordon. Just in case.”
“In case what?”
“Well, in case the Quarantine doesn’t work. In case something escapes.”
“Like Mum and Dad, you mean?” Jenna said, wrenching her arm from Beetle’s grasp.
“No. In case something Darke escapes.”
But Jenna was not there to hear. Witch cloak flying, she was racing off along the small path that ran around to the back of the Palace. Beetle sighed. He wished Jenna would take off the witch cloak. She didn’t seem like Jenna anymore.
Feeling wretched, Beetle waited between the two burning torches on either side of the bridge. Through the open Palace doors he saw the pile of abandoned birthday presents, the discarded streamers, the HAPPY BIRTHDAY banner, all looking oddly out of place now as Marcia—purple robed and intense—paced back and forth, continuing her count. Beetle saw the last rushlight at the top of the stairs flicker and go out and the wall of Darkenesse—not nighttime darkness but something thicker, more solid—begin to move down toward the pacing figure below.
Beetle watched Marcia like a hawk, terrified of missing her signal. The ExtraOrdinary Wizard was backing toward the door now. She was still counting, going on for as long as she dared in order to give Hildegarde the best possible chance.
“One hundred and four, one hundred and five . . .”
With every step backwards that Marcia took, the Darkenesse advanced. It reminded Beetle of a giant cider press he had once visited where you could stand inside and watch the pressing plate move down toward you. It had terrified Beetle at the time—and now it terrified him all over again.
The descending roof of Darkenesse reached the chandelier, and suddenly all the candles sputtered out. Beetle saw Marcia raise her right hand. He pushed the Ignite pin into the side of the Flare, held the Flare at arm’s length and was blown off his feet by the sudden blast of light that shot into the sky. A gasp of “oohs” came from the crowd beyond, but from the Cordon came the quieter sound of a sustained humming, as though the Palace were surrounded by a gigantic swarm of bees. The Cordon was now Active. Marcia leaped outside, slammed the thick wooden doors shut, laid a hand on each door and began the Quarantine.
The Magyk was so strong that even Beetle—who was not a very Magykal person—could see the purple shimmering haze of Magyk playing around the doors and, as sound of the humming from the huge circle of Wizards, Apprentices and scribes filled the air, the Magyk spread out from the doors, creeping across the darkened windows of the Palace, Quarantining everything that lay within in a thin veil of purple.
Beetle hoped that what lay within did not include Hildegarde, Sarah and Silas. Or Jenna.
Chapter 22
Ethel
Sarah, forget that contrary duck and get out!” Silas was yelling.
Silas and Hildegarde were anxiously hopping up and down on the path outside Sarah’s open sitting room window. Maxie was whining fretfully. Inside Sarah was frantically searching for Ethel.
“I can’t just abandon her,” Sarah shouted back, hurling a pile of wash off the sofa and throwing the cushions onto the floor. “She’s hiding because she’s frightened.”
“Sarah, get out!”
To Hildegarde’s dismay, Silas clambered back in through the open window. Maxie went to follow; Hildegarde pulled the protesting wolfhound away.
“Mr. Heap, Mr. Heap!” she called in through the window. “Come back, please! No, Maxie. Down.”
Inside the room Silas was propeling a reluctant Sarah toward the open window. “Sarah,” he told her, “duck or no duck, it is time to go. Come on.”
Sarah gave one last try. “Ethel, dear,” she called out, “Ethel, where are you? Come to Mummy!”
An exasperated Silas maneuvered Sarah out the window. “Ethel is a duck, Sarah, and you are not her mummy. You have eight children to be mummy to, and they all need you more than that duck does. Now get out!”
A moment later, much to Hildegarde’s relief, both Silas and Sarah were standing beside her. Suddenly the candle flickering in the room next door to Sarah’s went out. Quickly Hildegarde reached up to close the window.
“Quack!” A flurry of movement came from underneath a pile of old curtains propped up beside the door and a yellow beak poked out.
“Ethel!”
Neither Silas, who was distracted by the sudden appearance of Jenna rounding the corner at the far end of the Palace, nor Hildegarde, who was pulling down the window, were quick enough to stop Sarah leaping back inside. Hildegarde was, however, quick enough to stop Silas clambering in after Sarah.
“No, Mr. Heap. Stay here,” she said firmly, hanging on to Silas’s sleeve just to make sure. “Mistress Heap, please come back, oh no—”
As Sarah scooped Ethel out from the pile of curtains, the door to her sitting room crashed open. A wave of Darkenesse flooded inside, and Sarah screamed a terrified, piercing scream that Jenna would never forget. Sarah clutched her duck to her, mouth wide open in a shriek, and was lost to human sight. As the Darkenesse swirled toward the open window, Hildegarde had no choice but to slam the window shut and put a rapid Anti-Darke on it just to make sure nothing escaped.
“Sarah!” Silas yelled, banging on the window. “Saraaaaaah!”
Jenna arrived, breathless. “Mum!” she gasped. “Where’s Mum?”
Unable to speak, Silas pointed into the room.
“Get her out, Dad, get her out!” yelled Jenna.
Silas shook his head. “It’s too late. Too late . . .” As he spoke the candle on the little table beside the window guttered and went out. Sarah’s sitting room was Darke.
There was a stunned silence on the path outside the window. With reluctance, Hildegarde broke it. “I think,” she said softly, “I think we should go now. There’s nothing we can do.”
“I’m not leaving Mum,” said Jenna stubbornly.
“Princess Jenna, I am so sorry, but there is nothing we can do for her now,” Hildegarde said gently. “Marcia has instructed that we go outside the Cordon.”
“I don’t care what Marcia has instructed,” snapped Jenna. “I’m not leaving Mum.”
Silas put his arm around Jenna. “What Hildegarde says is true, Jenny,” he said, using his old baby name for her, something Jenna had not heard for years. “Your mum would not want us to stay here. She would want us—and you in particular—to be safe. Come on.”
Jenna shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. But she stopped resisting and allowed Silas to lead her away.
The subdued party walked slowly across the grass, which was becoming dusted with white as the sleet began to turn to snow in the cold of the encroaching night. They headed toward the silent circle of Wizards, scribes and Apprentices holding their purple Cords. Suddenly the sky lit up with a whoosh. Jenna jumped.
“It’s all right,” said Hildegarde. “It’s only the signal to the Cordon to Activate.” At that a strange humming sound, like a mass of bees on a warm summer’s day, drifted toward them. It was oddly unsettling—bees did not belong to a dark winter’s night with snowflakes falling.
Jenna looked back at the Palace—her Palace, as she now thought of it. Every night, since Alther had been Banished, she would walk down the river and talk to the forlorn ghost of Alice Nettles. She and Alice would look up at the Palace and Alice would say how beautiful it looked now that every window had a light in it, and Jenna would agree. But now, like Alther, the lights were gone—every one of her candles snuffed out. It reminded Jenna of how the Palace had been when she had first moved in with Silas and Sarah, but there was one important difference: there had always been one window with a light in it—Sarah’s sitting room, where they had sat every evening. Now there was nothing.
All eyes were upon them as Hildegarde, Silas, Jenna and M
axie walked slowly toward the Cordon. Hildegarde chose a spot between two scribes, Partridge and Romilly Badger, who were holding either end of the Cord in front of the entrance to Sarah Heap’s herb garden. Somehow Partridge had managed to share his Cord with Romilly, rather than have a Wizard spacer between them, as was recommended practice. On either side of Romilly and Partridge, the circle of Wizards, scribes and Apprentices, linked with various lengths of purple cord, stretched out into the night. All were making the long, low drone that prepared the Cord for Marcia to raise the Safety Curtain.
Romilly and Partridge nodded at Jenna but neither smiled—they had both seen what had happened. Resolutely they continued their low drone.
Silas stepped forward.
“Don’t touch!” yelled Hildegarde, somewhat frazzled and—after his leap into the sitting room—not entirely trusting Silas to be sensible.
Silas looked annoyed. “I wasn’t going to,” he said indignantly. “We can’t touch the Cord,” he whispered to Jenna. “It will break the Magyk.”
“So how are we supposed to get out?” Jenna asked irritably.
“It’s all right, Princess Jenna,” Hildegarde said soothingly. “We can get out, but there’s a particular way of doing it. We need some of this . . .” Hildegarde reached into her sub-Wizard belt for her own piece of Conducting Cord. She drew it out and held up a very short length of purple cord. “Oh,” she said. “I don’t think that’s long enough.”
“Standard sub-Wizard length,” said Silas. “Enough for one person only.” He took a much longer length from his Ordinary Wizard belt. “Use mine. I may as well do something useful. Now, this is what we do; we all stand really close together and—Maxie come back!”
Jenna raced after Maxie and dragged him back; the wolfhound regarded her with big, brown, accusing eyes. She held Maxie close and Silas proceeded to encircle them all with his purple Conducting Cord. A few minutes later, a walking parcel of three people and a wolfhound shuffled toward the Cord held by Partridge and Romilly. Any other time Jenna would have giggled her way along, but now it was all she could do to blink back tears—every step took her away from Sarah, marooned in the Darke. She glanced back at the Palace and saw that a Magykal shimmer of purple had crept over it like a veil, Quarantining everything within. She wondered if Sarah knew what had happened. She wondered if Sarah now knew anything at all . . .
