by Angie Sage
“I wish I had a light,” Boy 412 muttered to himself, trying to see the ring and holding his eyes as wide as they would go, as if it might make a difference. The ring sat in his palm, and after hundreds of years lying alone in a chill dark place under the ground, it slowly warmed up in the small human hand that held it for the first time since it had been lost so long ago.
As Boy 412 sat with the ring, he began to relax. He realized that he was not afraid of the dark, that he felt quite safe, safer in fact than he had felt for years. He was miles away from his tormentors in the Young Army, and he knew that they would never be able to find him here. Boy 412 smiled and leaned back against the wall. He would find a way out, that was for sure.
Boy 412 decided to see if the ring would fit. It was far too big for any of his skinny fingers, so he slipped it onto his right index finger, the biggest finger that he had. Boy 412 turned it around and around, enjoying the feeling of warmth, even heat, which was coming from it. Very soon Boy 412 became aware of a strange sensation. The ring, which felt as if it had come alive, was tightening around his index finger; it now fitted perfectly. Not only that, but it was giving off a faint golden glow.
Boy 412 gazed at the ring in delight, seeing his find for the first time. It was like no ring he had ever seen before. Curled around his finger was a gold dragon, its tail clasped in its mouth. Its emerald-green eyes glinted at him, and Boy 412 had the strangest feeling of being looked at by the dragon itself. Excited, he stood up, holding his right hand out in front of him with his very own ring, his dragon ring, now glowing as brightly as if it were a lantern.
Boy 412 looked around him in the golden light of the ring. He realized that he was at the end of a tunnel. In front of him, sloping down even deeper into the ground, was a narrow, high-sided passageway cut neatly from the rock. Holding his hand high above his head, Boy 412 stared upward into the blackness through which he had fallen, but could see no way of climbing back up. He reluctantly decided that the only thing he could do was follow the tunnel and hope it would lead him to another way out.
And so, holding out the ring, Boy 412 set off. The tunnel’s sandy floor followed a steady downward slope. It twisted and turned this way and that, leading him into dead ends and at times taking him around in circles, until Boy 412 lost all sense of direction and became almost dizzy with confusion. It was as if the person who had built the tunnel was deliberately trying to confuse him. And succeeding.
And that, reckoned Boy 412, was why he fell down the steps.
At the foot of the steps Boy 412 caught his breath. He was all right, he told himself. He hadn’t fallen far. But something was missing—his ring was gone. For the first time since he had been in the tunnel, Boy 412 felt scared. The ring had not only given him light; it had kept him company. It had also, Boy 412 realized as he shivered in the chill, made him feel warm. He looked about him, eyes wide open in the pitch blackness, desperately looking for that faint golden glow.
He could see nothing but black. Nothing. Boy 412 felt desolate. As desolate as he had felt when his best friend, Boy 409, had fallen overboard in a night raid and they had not been allowed to stop to pick him up. Boy 412 put his head in his hands. He felt like giving up.
And then he heard the singing.
A soft, thin, beautiful sound drifted over to him, calling him toward it. On his hands and knees, because he did not want to fall down any more steps just then, Boy 412 inched his way toward the sound, feeling along the cold marble floor as he did so. Steadily, he crawled toward it and the singing became softer and less urgent, until it became strangely muffled, and Boy 412 realized he had his hand over the ring.
He had found it. Or rather, the ring had found him. Grinning happily, Boy 412 slipped the dragon ring back onto his finger, and the darkness around him faded away.
It was easy after that. The ring guided Boy 412 along the tunnel, which had opened out to become wide and straight and now had white marble walls richly decorated with hundreds of simple pictures in bright blues, yellow and reds. But Boy 412 paid little attention to the pictures. By now all he really wanted to do was find his way out. And so he kept going until he found what he was hoping to find, a flight of steps that at last led upward. With a feeling of relief, Boy 412 climbed the steps and found himself walking up a steep sandy slope that soon came to a dead end.
At last, in the light of the ring, Boy 412 saw his exit. An old ladder was propped up against a wall and above it was a wooden trapdoor. Boy 412 climbed the ladder, reached over and gave the trapdoor a push. To his relief it moved. He pushed a little harder, the trapdoor opened and Boy 412 peered out. It was still dark but a change in the air told Boy 412 that he was now aboveground, and as he waited, trying to get his bearings, he noticed a narrow strip of light along the floor. Boy 412 breathed a sigh of relief. He knew where he was. He was in Aunt Zelda’s Unstable Potions and Partikular Poisons cupboard. Silently Boy 412 pulled himself up through the trapdoor, closed it and replaced the rug that covered it. Then he gingerly opened the cupboard door and peered out to see if anyone was around.
In the kitchen Aunt Zelda was making up a new potion. As Boy 412 crept past the door she glanced up, but, seemingly preoccupied by her work, she said nothing. Boy 412 slipped by and headed for the fireside. Suddenly Boy 412 felt very tired. He took off the dragon ring and tucked it safely into the pocket he had discovered inside his red hat, then he lay himself down next to Bert on the rug in front of the fire and fell fast asleep.
He was so deeply asleep that he didn’t hear Marcia come downstairs and Command Aunt Zelda’s tallest and most wobbly pile of Magyk books to lift themselves up. He certainly didn’t hear the soft swish of a large and very ancient book, The Undoing of the Darkenesse, pulling itself out from the bottom of the swaying pile and flying over to the most comfortable chair by the fire. Nor did he hear the rustle of its pages as the book obediently opened and found the exact page that Marcia wanted to see.
Boy 412 didn’t even hear Marcia squeal as, on her way to the chair, she nearly trod on him, stepped back and trod on Bert instead. But, deep in his sleep, Boy 412 had a strange dream about a flock of angry ducks and cats who chased him out of a tunnel and then carried him into the sky and taught him how to fly.
Far away in his dream, Boy 412 smiled. He was free.
21
RATTUS RATTUS
How did you get back so fast?” Jenna asked Boy 412.
It had taken Nicko and Jenna all afternoon to find their way back through the haar to the cottage. While Nicko had spent the time they were lost deciding which were his top-ten best boats and then, as he became hungrier, imagining what his all-time favorite supper would be, Jenna had spent most of the time worrying about what had happened to Boy 412 and deciding she was going to be much nicer to him from now on. That was if he hadn’t already fallen into the Mott and drowned.
So when Jenna at last got back to the cottage cold and wet, with the haar still clinging to her clothes, and found Boy 412 sitting perkily on the sofa next to Aunt Zelda, looking almost pleased with himself, she did not feel quite as irritated as Nicko did. Nicko just grunted and went off to soak himself in the hot spring. Jenna let Aunt Zelda rub her hair dry for her, and then she sat down next to Boy 412 and asked him her question, “How did you get back so fast?”
Boy 412 looked at her sheepishly but said nothing. Jenna tried again.
“I was scared you had fallen in the Mott.”
Boy 412 looked a little surprised at this. He didn’t expect the Princess-girl to care whether he had fallen into the Mott, or even down a hole for that matter.
“I’m glad you got back safely,” Jenna persisted. “It took me and Nicko ages. We kept getting lost.”
Boy 412 smiled. He almost wanted to tell Jenna about what had happened to him and show her his ring, but years of having to keep things to himself had taught him to be careful. The only person he had ever shared secrets with had been Boy 409, and although there was something nice about Jenna that did
remind him of Boy 409, she was a Princess, and even worse, a girl. So he said nothing.
Jenna noticed the smile and felt pleased. She was about to try another question when, in a voice that made the potion bottles rattle, Aunt Zelda yelled, “Message Rat!”
Marcia, who had taken over Aunt Zelda’s desk at the far end of the room, got up quickly and, to Jenna’s surprise, grabbed her by the hand and hauled her off the sofa.
“Hey!” protested Jenna. Marcia took no notice. She headed up the stairs, pulling Jenna along behind her. Halfway up they collided with Silas and Maxie, who were rushing down to see the Message Rat.
“That dog should not be allowed upstairs,” snapped Marcia as she tried to squeeze past Maxie without getting any dogdribble trails on her cloak.
Maxie slobbered excitedly on Marcia’s hand and rushed down after Silas, one of his large paws treading heavily on Marcia’s foot. Maxie paid very little attention to Marcia. He didn’t bother to get out of her way or take any notice of what she said because, in his wolfhound way of looking at the world, Silas was Top Dog and Marcia was right at the bottom of the pile.
Happily for Marcia, these finer points of Maxie’s inner life had passed her by, and she pushed past the wolfhound and strode upstairs, trailing Jenna in her wake, out of the way of the Message Rat.
“Wha-what did you do that for?” asked Jenna, getting her breath back as they reached the attic room.
“The Message Rat,” said Marcia, a little puffed. “We don’t know what kind of rat it is. It might not be a Chartered Confidential Rat.”
“A what rat?” asked Jenna, puzzled.
“Well,” whispered Marcia, sitting down on Aunt Zelda’s narrow bed, which was covered with an assortment of patchwork blankets that were the result of many long, solitary evenings by the fireside. She patted the space beside her, and Jenna sat down too.
“Do you know about Message Rats?” asked Marcia in a low voice.
“I think so,” said Jenna uncertainly, “but we never got one at home. Ever. I thought you had to be really important to get a Message Rat.”
“No,” said Marcia, “anyone can get one. Or send one.”
“Maybe Mum sent it,” said Jenna in a hopeful voice.
“Maybe,” said Marcia, “and maybe not. We need to know if it is a Confidential Rat before we can trust it. A Confidential Rat will always tell the truth and keep all secrets at all times. It is also extremely expensive.”
Jenna thought gloomily that in that case Sarah could never have sent the rat.
“So we’ll just have to wait and see,” said Marcia. “And meanwhile you and I will wait up here just in case it’s a spy rat come to see where the ExtraOrdinary Wizard is hiding with the Princess.”
Jenna nodded slowly. It was that word again. Princess. It still took her by surprise. She couldn’t quite believe that that was who she really was. But she sat quietly next to Marcia, gazing around the attic room.
The room felt surprisingly large and airy. It had a sloping ceiling in which was set a small window that looked out far across the snow-covered marshes. Huge sturdy beams supported the roof. Below the beams hung an assortment of what looked like large patchwork tents, until Jenna realized that they must be Aunt Zelda’s dresses. There were three beds in the room. Jenna guessed from the patchwork covers that they were sitting on Aunt Zelda’s bed, and the one tucked away low in an alcove by the stairs and covered in dog hair was likely to belong to Silas. In the far corner was a large bed built into the wall. It reminded Jenna of her own box bed at home and gave her a sharp pang of homesickness when she looked at it. She guessed that it was Marcia’s, for beside the bed was her book, The Undoing of the Darkenesse, a fine onyx pen and a pile of the best quality vellum covered in Magykal signs and symbols.
Marcia followed her gaze.
“Come on, you can try out my pen. You’ll like that. It writes in any color you ask it to—if it’s in a good mood.”
While Jenna was upstairs trying out Marcia’s pen, which was being somewhat contrary by insisting on writing every other letter in lurid green, Silas was downstairs trying to restrain an excitable Maxie, who had caught sight of the Message Rat.
“Nicko,” said Silas distractedly, having spotted his damp-looking son just coming in from the hot spring. “Hang on to Maxie and keep him away from the rat, would you?” Nicko and Maxie bounded onto the sofa, and with equal speed, Boy 412 shot off.
“Now, where’s that rat?” asked Silas.
A large brown rat was sitting outside the window, tapping on the glass. Aunt Zelda opened the window, and the rat hopped in and looked around the room with his quick, bright eyes.
“Squeeke, Rat!” said Silas in Magyk.
The rat looked at him impatiently.
“Speeke, Rat!”
The rat crossed his arms and waited. He gave Silas a withering look.
“Um…sorry. It’s been ages since I’ve had a Message Rat,” Silas excused himself. “Oh, that’s it…Speeke, Rattus Rattus.”
“Right-ho,” sighed the rat. “Got there in the end.” He drew himself up and said, “First I have to ask. Is there anyone here answering to the name of Silas Heap?” The rat stared straight at Silas.
“Yes, me,” said Silas.
“Thought so,” said the rat. “Fits the description.” He gave a small, important-sounding cough, stood up straight and clasped his front paws behind his back.
“I am come here to deliver a message to Silas Heap. The message is sent today at eight o’clock this morning from one Sarah Heap residing in the house of Galen.
“Message begins:
Hello, Silas love. And Jenna piglet and Nicko angel.
I have sent the rat to Zelda’s in the hope that he finds you safe and well. Sally told us that the Hunter was after you, and I couldn’t sleep all night for thinking about it. That man has such a terrible reputation. I was at my wits’ end by the morning and was convinced you had all been caught (although Galen told me she knew you were safe), but dear Alther came to see us as soon as it was light and told us the wonderful news that you had escaped. He said he last saw you setting off into the Marram Marshes. He wished he could have come with you.
Silas, something has happened. Simon disappeared on our way here. We were on the riverside path that leads into Galen’s part of the Forest when I realized that he had gone. I just don’t know what can have happened to him. We didn’t see any Guards, and no one saw or heard him go. Silas, I am so afraid he has fallen into one of those traps that those awful witches set. We are going out to search for him today.
The Guards set fire to Sally’s cafe and she only just managed to escape. She is not sure how she did it, but she arrived here safely this morning and asked me to tell Marcia that she is very grateful for the KeepSafe she gave her. In fact, we all are. It was very generous of Marcia.
Silas, please send the rat back and let me know how you are.
All our love and thoughts go to you all.
Your loving Sarah
“Message ends.”
Exhausted, the rat slumped down on the windowsill.
“I could murder a cup of tea,” he said.
Silas was very agitated.
“I shall have to go back,” he said, “and look for Simon. Who knows what might have happened?”
Aunt Zelda tried to calm him down. She brought out two mugs of hot sweet tea and gave one to the rat and one to Silas. The rat downed his mug in one go while Silas sat gloomily nursing his.
“Simon’s really tough, Dad,” said Nicko. “He’ll be all right. I expect he just got lost. He’ll be back with Mum by now.”
Silas was not convinced.
Aunt Zelda decided the only sensible thing to do was to have supper. Aunt Zelda’s suppers usually took people’s minds off their problems. She was a hospitable cook who liked to have as many people around her table as she could, and although her guests always enjoyed the conversation, the food could be more of a challenge. The most frequent description w
as “interesting,” as in, “That bread and cabbage bake was very…interesting, Zelda. I never would have thought of that myself,” or, “Well, I must say that strawberry jam is such an…interesting sauce for sliced eel.”
Silas was put to work laying the table to take his mind off things, and the Message Rat was invited to supper.
Aunt Zelda served frog and rabbit casserole with twice-boiled turnip heads followed by cherry and parsnip delight. Boy 412 tucked into it with great enthusiasm, as it was a wonderful improvement on the Young Army food, and he even had second and third helpings, much to Aunt Zelda’s delight. No one had ever asked her for second helpings before, let alone third.
Nicko was pleased that Boy 412 was eating so much, as it meant that Aunt Zelda did not notice the frog lumps that he had lined up and hidden under his knife. Or if she did, it didn’t bother her too much. Nicko also managed to feed the complete rabbit ear that he had found on his plate to Maxie, much to his relief and Maxie’s delight.
Marcia had called down, excusing herself and Jenna from supper on account of the presence of the Message Rat. Silas thought it was a feeble excuse and suspected her of secretly doing a few gourmet food spells on the side.
Despite—or maybe because of—Marcia’s absence, supper was an enjoyable affair. The Message Rat was good company. Silas had not bothered to undo the Speeke, Rattus Rattus command, and so the talkative rat held forth on any topic that caught his imagination, which ranged from the problem with young rats today to the rat sausage scandal in the Guards’ canteen that had upset the entire rat community, not to mention the Guards.
