by Angie Sage
Silas Heap sat himself down on an upturned crate. “Well, Marcia, what’s going on?” he said.
Marcia’s mouth felt very dry. “Have you got a glass of water?” she asked.
Jenna scrambled down from Sarah’s lap and came over to Marcia, holding a battered wooden cup with teeth marks all around the top.
“Here, have my water. I don’t mind.” She gazed at Marcia admiringly. Jenna had never seen anyone like Marcia before, no one as purple, as shiny, as clean and expensive-looking, and certainly no one with such pointy shoes.
Marcia looked at the cup dubiously, but then, remembering who had given it to her, she said, “Thank you, Princess. Er, may I call you Jenna?”
Jenna did not reply. She was too busy staring at Marcia’s purple shoes.
“Answer Madam Marcia, poppet,” said Sarah Heap.
“Oh, yes, you may, Madam Marcia,” Jenna said, puzzled but polite.
“Thank you, Jenna. It’s nice to meet you after all this time. And please, just call me Marcia,” said Marcia, who could not help thinking how much Jenna looked like her mother.
Jenna slipped back to Sarah’s side, and Marcia forced herself to take a sip of water from the chewed cup.
“Out with it, then, Marcia,” said Silas from his upturned box. “What’s going on? As usual we seem to be the last to know over here.”
“Silas, do you and Sarah know who, er…Jenna…is?” asked Marcia.
“Yes. We do. Jenna is our daughter, that’s who she is,” said Silas stubbornly.
“But you guessed, didn’t you?” said Marcia, directing her gaze at Sarah.
“Yes,” said Sarah quietly.
“So you will understand when I say that she is not safe here anymore. I need to take her. Now,” Marcia said urgently.
“No!” yelled Jenna. “No!” She scrambled back onto Sarah’s lap. Sarah held her tightly.
Silas was angry. “Just because you’re the ExtraOrdinary Wizard, Marcia, you think you can just walk in here and mess up our lives like it doesn’t matter. You most certainly are not taking Jenna away. She is ours. Our only daughter. She is perfectly safe here, and she stays with us.”
“Silas,” sighed Marcia, “she is not safe with you. Not anymore. She has been discovered. You have a spy living right next door to you. Linda Lane.”
“Linda!” gasped Sarah. “A spy? I don’t believe it.”
“You mean that awful old gasbag who is always around here prattling on about pills and potions and drawing endless pictures of the kids?” asked Silas.
“Silas!” remonstrated Sarah. “Don’t be so rude.”
“I’ll be more than rude to her if she is a spy,” declared Silas.
“There’s no ‘if’ about it, Silas,” said Marcia. “Linda Lane most definitely is a spy. And I’m sure the pictures she has been drawing are proving very useful to the Supreme Custodian.”
Silas groaned. Marcia pressed home her advantage.
“Look, Silas, I only want the best for Jenna. You have to trust me.”
Silas snorted. “Why on earth should we trust you, Marcia?”
“Because I have trusted you with the Princess, Silas,” said Marcia. “Now you must trust me. What happened ten years ago must not happen again.”
“You forget, Marcia,” said Silas scathingly, “that we don’t know what happened ten years ago. No one ever bothered to tell us.”
Marcia sighed. “How could I tell you, Silas? It was best for the Princess’s, I mean Jenna’s, sake that you did not know.”
At the mention of Princess yet again, Jenna looked up at Sarah.
“Madam Marcia called me that before,” she whispered. “Is that really me?”
“Yes, poppet,” Sarah whispered back, then she looked Marcia in the eye and said, “I think we all need to know what happened ten years ago, Madam Marcia.”
Marcia looked at her timepiece. This had to be quick. She took a deep breath and started.
“Ten years ago,” she said, “I had just passed my final exams and I’d gone over to see Alther to thank him. Well, soon after I arrived a messenger rushed in to tell him that the Queen had given birth to a baby girl. We were so pleased—it meant that the heir to the Castle had at last arrived.
“The messenger summoned Alther to the Palace to conduct the Welcome Ceremony for the baby Princess. I went with him to help him carry all the heavy books, potions and charms that he needed. And to remind him in what order to do things as dear old Alther was becoming a little forgetful at times.
“When we arrived at the Palace we were taken to the Throne Room to see the Queen, who looked so happy—so wonderfully happy. She was sitting on the throne holding her newborn daughter, and she greeted us with the words, ‘Isn’t she beautiful?’ And those were the last words that our Queen spoke.”
“No,” muttered Sarah quietly.
“At that very moment a man in a strange black and red uniform burst into the room. Of course I know now that he was wearing the uniform of an Assassin, but at the time I knew nothing of the kind. I thought he was some kind of messenger, but I could see from the Queen’s face that she was not expecting him. Then I saw that he was carrying a long silver pistol, and I felt very afraid. I glanced at Alther, but he was fussing with his books and hadn’t noticed. Then…it was all so unreal somehow…I just watched the soldier very slowly and deliberately raise the pistol, take aim and fire it straight at the Queen. Everything was so horribly silent as the silver bullet passed straight through the Queen’s heart and embedded itself in the wall behind her. The baby Princess screamed and tumbled from her dead mother’s arms. I leaped forward and caught her.”
Jenna was pale, trying to understand what she was hearing. “Was that me?” she asked Sarah in a low voice. “Was I the baby Princess?”
Sarah nodded slowly.
Marcia’s voice trembled slightly as she carried on. “It was terrible! Alther was starting on the SafeShield Spell when there was another shot, and a bullet spun him around and threw him to the floor. I finished Alther’s spell for him, and for a few moments all three of us were safe. The Assassin fired his next bullet—it was one for the Princess and me this time—but it skittered off the invisible shield and shot straight back at him, catching him in the leg. He fell to the floor, but he still kept hold of his pistol. He just lay there and stared at us, waiting for the spell to end, as all spells must.
“Alther was dying. He took off the Amulet and gave it to me. I refused. I was sure that I could save him, but Alther knew better. He just very calmly told me that it was time for him to go now. He smiled and then—and then he died.”
The room was silent. No one moved. Even Silas stared deliberately at the floor. Marcia continued in a low voice.
“I—I couldn’t believe it. I tied the Amulet around my neck and gathered up the baby Princess. She was crying now, well, we both were. Then I ran. I ran so fast that the Assassin had no time to fire his pistol.
“I fled to the Wizard Tower. I couldn’t think where else to go. I told the other Wizards the terrible news and asked for their protection, which they gave us. All afternoon we talked about what we should do with the Princess. We knew she could not stay in the Tower for long. We could not protect the Princess forever, and anyway, she was a newborn baby who needed a mother. It was then that I thought of you, Sarah.”
Sarah looked surprised.
“Alther often talked to me about you and Silas. I knew you had just had a baby boy. It was the talk of the Tower, the seventh son of the seventh son. I had no idea then that he had died. I was so sorry to hear that. But I knew you would love the Princess and make her happy. So we decided that you should have her.
“But I couldn’t just walk over to The Ramblings and give her to you. Someone would have seen me. So, late in the afternoon, I smuggled the Princess out of the Castle and left her in the snow, making sure that you, Silas, would find her. And that was it. There was nothing more I could do.
“Except, after Gringe had fluster
ed me into giving him a half crown, I hid in the shadows and watched for you as you came back. When I saw the way you held your cloak and the way you walked as if you were protecting something precious, I knew that you had the Princess and, do you remember, I told you, ‘Tell no one you found her. She was born to you. Understand?’”
A charged silence hung in the air. Silas stared at the floor, Sarah sat motionless with Jenna, and the boys all looked thunderstruck. Marcia stood up quietly, and from a pocket in her tunic she took a small red velvet bag. Then she picked her way across the room, being careful not to step on anything, particularly a large, and none too clean, wolf that she had just noticed asleep in the middle of a pile of blankets.
The Heaps watched, mesmerized, as Marcia walked solemnly over to Jenna. The Heap boys parted respectfully as Marcia stopped in front of Sarah and Jenna and knelt down.
Jenna stared with wide-open eyes as Marcia opened the velvet bag and took from it a small gold circlet.
“Princess,” said Marcia, “this was your mother’s and now it is yours by right.” Marcia reached up and placed the gold circlet on Jenna’s head. It fitted perfectly.
Silas broke the spell. “Well, you’ve done it now, Marcia,” he said crossly. “The cat’s really out of the bag.”
Marcia stood up and brushed the dirt off her cloak. As she did so, to her surprise, the ghost of Alther Mella floated through the wall and settled himself down beside Sarah Heap.
“Ah, here’s Alther,” said Silas. “He won’t be pleased about this, I can tell you.”
“Hello, Silas, Sarah. Hello, all my young Wizards.” The Heap boys grinned. People called them many things, but only Alther called them Wizards.
“And hello, my little Princess,” said Alther, who had always called Jenna that. And now Jenna knew why.
“Hello, Uncle Alther,” said Jenna, feeling much happier with the old ghost floating next to her.
“I didn’t know that Alther came to see you too,” Marcia said, somewhat put out, even though she was rather relieved to see him.
“Well, I was his Apprentice first,” snapped Silas. “Before you elbowed in.”
“I did not elbow in. You gave up. You begged Alther to annul your Apprenticeship. You said you wanted to read bedtime stories to the boys instead of being stuck in a turret with your nose in a dusty old spell book. You really do take the biscuit sometimes, Silas,” glowered Marcia.
“Children, children, don’t argue now.” Alther smiled. “I love you both the same. All my Apprentices are special.”
The ghost of Alther Mella shimmered slightly in the heat of the fire. He wore his ghostly ExtraOrdinary Wizard cloak. It still had bloodstains on it, which always upset Marcia when she saw them. Alther’s long white hair was carefully tied back into a ponytail, and his beard was neatly trimmed to a point. When he had been alive, Alther’s hair and beard had always been a mess—he could never quite keep up with how fast it all seemed to grow. But now that he was a ghost, it was easy. He’d sorted it all out ten years ago and that was the way it had stayed. Alther’s green eyes may have sparkled a little less than they had when he was alive, but they looked around him as keenly as ever. And as they gazed at the Heap household he felt sad. Things were about to change.
“Tell her, Alther,” demanded Silas. “Tell her she’s not having our Jenna. Princess or not, she’s not having her.”
“I wish I could, Silas, but I can’t,” said Alther, looking serious. “You have been discovered. An Assassin is coming. She will be here at midnight with a silver bullet. You know what that means…”
Sarah Heap put her head in her hands. “No,” she whispered.
“Yes,” said Alther. He shivered and his hand strayed to the small round bullet hole just below his heart.
“What can we do?” asked Sarah, very quiet and still.
“Marcia will take Jenna to the Wizard Tower,” said Alther. “Jenna will be safe there for the moment. Then we will have to think about what to do next.” He looked at Sarah. “You and Silas must go away with the boys. Somewhere safe where you won’t be found.”
Sarah was pale, but her voice was steady. “We’ll go into the Forest,” she said. “We will stay with Galen.”
Marcia looked at her timepiece again. It was getting late.
“I need to take the Princess now,” she said. “I must get back before they change the sentry.”
“I don’t want to go,” whispered Jenna. “I don’t have to, do I, Uncle Alther? I want to go and stay with Galen too. I want to go with everyone else. I don’t want to be on my own.” Jenna’s lower lip trembled, and her eyes filled with tears. She held on tightly to Sarah.
“You won’t be on your own. You’ll be with Marcia,” said Alther gently. Jenna did not look as though that made her feel any better.
“My little Princess,” said Alther, “Marcia is right. You need to go away with her. Only she can give you the protection you will need.”
Jenna still looked unconvinced.
“Jenna,” said Alther seriously, “you are the Heir to the Castle, and the Castle needs you to keep safe so that you can be Queen one day. You must go with Marcia. Please.”
Jenna’s hands strayed to the golden circlet that Marcia had placed on her head. Somewhere inside herself she began to feel a little bit different.
“All right,” she whispered. “I’ll go.”
6
TO THE TOWER
Jenna could not believe what was happening to her. She hardly had time to kiss everyone good-bye before Marcia had thrown her purple cloak over her and told her to stay close and keep up. Then the big black Heap door had unwillingly creaked itself open, and Jenna was whisked away from the only home she had ever known.
It was probably a good thing that, covered as she was by Marcia’s cloak, Jenna could not see the bewildered faces of the six Heap boys or the desolate expressions on the faces of Sarah and Silas Heap as they watched the four-legged purple cloak swish around the corner at the end of Corridor 223 and disappear from view.
Marcia and Jenna took the long way back to the Wizard Tower. Marcia did not want to risk being seen outside with Jenna, and the dark winding corridors of the East Side seemed safer than the quick route she had taken earlier that morning. Marcia strode briskly along, and Jenna had to run beside her to have any hope of keeping up. Luckily all she carried with her was a small rucksack on her back with a few treasures to remind her of home; although, in the rush she had forgotten her birthday present.
It was midmorning by now and the rush hour was over. Much to Marcia’s relief the damp corridors were almost deserted as she and Jenna traveled quietly along them, fluently taking each turn as Marcia’s memory of her old trips to the Wizard Tower came back to her.
Hidden under Marcia’s heavy cloak, Jenna could see very little, so she concentrated her gaze on the two pairs of feet below her: her own small, chunky feet in their scruffy brown boots and Marcia’s long, pointy feet in their purple python skins striding over the dank gray slabs beneath them. Soon Jenna had stopped noticing her own boots and had become mesmerized by the purple pointed pythons dancing before her—left, right, left, right, left, right—as they crossed the miles of endless passageways.
In this way the strange pair moved unnoticed through the Castle. Past the heavy murmuring doors that hid the many workshops where the people from the East Side spent their long working hours making boots, beer, clothes, boats, beds, saddles, candles, sails, bread, and more recently guns, uniforms and chains. Past the cold schoolrooms where bored children chanted their thirteen times-tables and past the empty, echoing storerooms where the Custodian Army had recently taken away most of the winter stores for its own use.
At long last Marcia and Jenna emerged through the narrow archway that led into the Wizard Tower courtyard. Jenna caught her breath in the cold air and stole a look out from under the cloak.
She gasped.
Rearing up in front of her was the Wizard Tower, so high that the golden Pyram
id crowning it was almost lost in a wisp of low-lying cloud. The Tower shone a brilliant silver in the winter sunlight, so bright that it hurt Jenna’s eyes, and the purple glass in its hundreds of tiny windows glittered and sparkled with a mysterious darkness that reflected the light and kept the secrets hidden behind them. A thin blue haze shimmered around the Tower, blurring its boundaries, and Jenna found it hard to tell where the Tower ended and the sky began. The air too was different; it smelled strange and sweet, of magical spells and old incense. And as Jenna stood, unable to stir another step, she knew that she was surrounded by the sounds, too soft to be heard, of ancient charms and incantations.
For the first time since Jenna had left her home she was afraid.
Marcia put a protective arm around Jenna’s shoulders, for even Marcia remembered what it was like to first see the Tower. Terrifying.
“Come on, nearly there,” murmured Marcia encouragingly, and together they slipped and slid across the snow-covered courtyard toward the huge marble steps that led up to the shimmering, silver entrance. Marcia was intent upon keeping her balance, and it was not until she reached the bottom of the steps that she noticed there was no longer a sentry on guard. She looked at her timepiece, puzzled. The sentry change was not due for fifteen minutes, so where was the snowball-throwing boy she had told off that morning?
Marcia looked around, tutting to herself. Something was wrong. The sentry was not here. And yet he was still here. He was, she suddenly realized, between the Here and the Not Here.
He was nearly dead.
Marcia made a sudden dive toward a small mound by the archway, and Jenna fell out of the cloak.
“Dig!” hissed Marcia, scrabbling away at the mound. “He’s here. Frozen.”
Underneath the mound lay the thin white body of the sentry. He was curled up into a ball, and his flimsy cotton uniform was soaked with the snow and clung coldly to him, the acid-bright colors of the bizarre uniform looking tawdry in the cold winter sunlight. Jenna shivered at the sight of the boy, not from the cold but from an unknown, wordless memory that had flitted across her mind.
