by Angie Sage
As the meal drew to a close, Aunt Zelda asked Silas if he was going to send the Message Rat back to Sarah that night.
The rat looked apprehensive. Although he was a big rat and could, as he was fond of telling everyone, “take care of myself,” Marram Marshes at night was not his favorite place. The suckers on a large Water Nixie could spell the end for a rat, and neither Brownies nor Boggarts were the rat’s first choice of companions. The Brownies would drag a rat down into the Ooze just for fun, and a hungry Boggart would happily boil up a rat stew for its baby Boggarts, who were, in the Message Rat’s opinion, voracious little pests.
(The Boggart of course had not joined them for supper. He never did. He preferred to eat the boiled cabbage sandwiches that Aunt Zelda made for him in the comfort of his own mud patch. He himself had not eaten rat for a long time. He didn’t like the taste much, and the little bones got stuck between his teeth.)
“I was thinking,” said Silas slowly, “that it might be better to send the rat back in the morning. He’s come a long way, and he ought to get some sleep.”
The rat look pleased.
“Quite right, sir. Very wise,” he said. “Many a message is lost for want of a good rest. And a good supper. And may I say that was an exceptionally…interesting supper, Madam.” He bowed his head in Aunt Zelda’s direction.
“My pleasure.” Aunt Zelda smiled.
“Is that rat a Confidential Rat?” asked the pepper pot in Marcia’s voice. Everyone jumped.
“You might give us a bit of warning if you’re going to start throwing your voice around,” complained Silas. “I nearly inhaled my parsnip delight.”
“Well, is it?” the pepper pot persisted.
“Are you?” Silas asked the rat, who was staring at the pepper pot and for once seemed lost for words. “Are you a Confidential Rat or not?”
“Yes,” said the rat, unsure whether to answer Silas or the pepper pot. He went for the pepper pot. “I am indeed, Miss Pot. I am a Chartered Confidential Long-Distance Rat. At your service.”
“Good. I’m coming down.”
Marcia came down the stairs two at a time and strode across the room, book in hand, her silk robes sweeping over the floor and sending a pile of potion jars flying. Jenna followed her quickly, eager to at last see a Message Rat for herself.
“It’s so small in here,” complained Marcia, irritably brushing Aunt Zelda’s best multicolored Brilliant Blends off her cloak. “I really don’t know how you manage, Zelda.”
“I seemed to manage quite well before you arrived,” Aunt Zelda muttered under her breath as Marcia sat down at the table beside the Message Rat. The rat went pale underneath his brown fur. Never in his wildest dreams had he expected to meet the ExtraOrdinary Wizard. He bowed low, far too low, and overbalanced into the remains of the cherry and parsnip delight.
“I want you to go back with the rat, Silas,” announced Marcia.
“What?” said Silas. “Now?”
“I am not certified for passengers, Your Honor,” the rat addressed Marcia hesitantly. “In fact, Your Most Graciousness, and I do say this with the greatest of respect—”
“UnSpeeke, Rattus Rattus,” snapped Marcia.
The Message Rat opened and closed his mouth silently for a few more words until he realized that nothing was coming out. Then he sat down, reluctantly licking the cherry and parsnip delight off his paws, and waited. The rat had no choice but to wait, for a Message Rat may leave only with a reply or a refusal to reply. And so far the Message Rat had been given neither, so, like the true professional he was, he sat patiently and gloomily remembered his wife’s words to him that morning when he had told her he was doing a job for a Wizard.
“Stanley,” his wife, Dawnie, had said, wagging her finger at him, “if I was you, I wouldn’t have nothing to do with them Wizards. Remember Elli’s husband, who ended up bewitched by that small fat Wizard up at the Tower and got trapped in the hot pot? He didn’t come back for two weeks and then he was in a terrible state. Don’t go, Stanley. Please.”
But Stanley had been secretly flattered that the Rat Office had asked him to go on an outside job, particularly for a Wizard, and was glad for a change from his previous job. He had spent the last week taking messages between two sisters who were having an argument. The messages had become increasingly short and distinctly ruder until his previous day’s work had consisted of running from one sister to another and actually saying nothing at all, because each wished to tell the other that she was no longer speaking to her. He had been extremely relieved when their mother, horrified by the huge bill she had suddenly received from the Rat Office, had canceled the job.
And so Stanley had quite happily told his wife that, if he was needed, he must go. “I am after all,” he told her, “one of the few Confidential Long-Distance Rats in the Castle.”
“And one of the silliest,” his wife had retorted.
And so Stanley sat on the table among the remains of the oddest supper he had ever eaten and listened to the surprisingly grumpy ExtraOrdinary Wizard telling the Ordinary Wizard what to do. Marcia thumped her book down on the table, rattling the plates.
“I have been going through Zelda’s The Undoing of the Darkenesse. I only wish I had had a copy back at Wizard Tower. It’s invaluable.” Marcia tapped the book approvingly. The book misunderstood her. It suddenly left the table and flew back to its place in Aunt Zelda’s book pile, much to Marcia’s irritation.
“Silas,” said Marcia, “I want you to go and get my KeepSafe back from Sally. We need it here.”
“All right,” said Silas.
“You must go, Silas,” said Marcia. “Our safety may depend upon it. Without it I have less power than I thought.”
“Yes, yes. All right, Marcia,” said Silas impatiently, preoccupied with his thoughts about Simon.
“In fact, as ExtraOrdinary Wizard, I am ordering you to go,” Marcia persisted.
“Yes! Marcia, I said yes. I’m going. I was going anyway,” said Silas, exasperated. “Simon has disappeared. I am going to look for him.”
“Good,” said Marcia, paying little attention, as ever, to what Silas was saying. “Now, where’s that rat?”
The rat, still unable to speak, raised his paw.
“Your message is this Wizard, returned to sender. Do you understand?”
Stanley nodded uncertainly. He wanted to tell the ExtraOrdinary Wizard that this was against Rat Office regulations. They did not deal in packages, human or otherwise. He sighed. How right his wife had been.
“You will convey this Wizard safely and properly by appropriate means to the return address. Understood?”
Stanley nodded unhappily. Appropriate means? He supposed that meant that Silas wasn’t going to be able to swim the river. Or hitch a lift in the baggage of a passing peddler. Great.
Silas came to the rat’s rescue.
“I do not need to be booked in like a parcel, thank you, Marcia,” he said. “I will take a canoe, and the rat can come with me and show me the way.”
“Very well,” said Marcia, “but I want confirmation of order. Speeke, Rattus Rattus.”
“Yes,” said the rat weakly. “Order confirmed.”
Silas and the Message Rat left early the next morning, just after sunrise, taking the Muriel One canoe. The haar had disappeared overnight, and the winter sun cast long shadows over the marshes in the gray early morning light.
Jenna, Nicko and Maxie had got up early to wave Silas off and give him messages for Sarah and the boys. The air was cold and frosty, and their breath hung in white clouds. Silas wrapped his heavy blue woolen cloak around him and pulled up his hood, while the Message Rat stood beside him shivering a little, and not entirely with the cold.
The rat could hear horrible choking noises from Maxie close behind him as Nicko kept a tight grip on the wolfhound’s neckerchief, and, as if that wasn’t enough, he had just caught sight of the Boggart.
“Ah, Boggart.” Aunt Zelda smiled. “Thank you ve
ry much, Boggart dear, for staying up. Here’s some sandwiches to keep you going. I’ll put them in the canoe. There’s some for you and the rat too, Silas.”
“Oh. Well, thank you, Zelda. What kind of sandwiches would they be, exactly?”
“Best boiled cabbage.”
“Ah. Well, that’s most…thoughtful.” Silas was glad he had smuggled some bread and cheese in his sleeve.
The Boggart was floating grumpily in the Mott and was not completely placated by the mention of cabbage sandwiches. He did not like being out in the daylight, even in the middle of winter. It made his weak Boggart eyes ache, and the sunlight burned his ears if he was not careful.
The Message Rat sat unhappily on the bank of the Mott, caught between dog breath behind him and Boggart Breath in front of him.
“Right,” said Silas to the rat. “In you get. I expect you’ll want to sit at the front. Maxie always does.”
“I am not a dog,” sniffed Stanley, “and I don’t travel with Boggarts.”
“This Boggart is a safe Boggart,” Aunt Zelda told him.
“There’s no such thing as a safe Boggart,” muttered Stanley. Catching a glimpse of Marcia coming out of the cottage to wave Silas off, he said no more, but jumped smartly into the canoe and hid under the seat.
“Be careful, Dad,” Jenna told Silas, hugging him tightly.
Nicko hugged Silas too. “Find Simon, Dad. And don’t forget to stay by the edge of the river if the tide’s against you. The tide always flows faster in the middle.”
“I won’t forget.” Silas smiled. “Look after each other, both of you. And Maxie.”
“Bye, Dad!”
Maxie whined and yelped as he saw, to his dismay, that Silas really was leaving him.
“Bye!” Silas waved as he unsteadily steered the canoe along the Mott to the familiar Boggart inquiry: “You followin’?”
Jenna and Nicko watched the canoe make its way slowly along the winding ditches and out into the wide expanse of the Marram Marshes until they could no longer make out Silas’s blue hood.
“I hope Dad’ll be all right,” said Jenna quietly. “He’s not very good at finding places.”
“The Message Rat will make sure he gets there,” said Nicko. “He knows he’ll have some explaining to do to Marcia if he doesn’t.”
Deep in the Marram Marshes the Message Rat sat in the canoe surveying the first package he had ever had to deliver. He had decided not to mention it to Dawnie, or to the rats at the Rat Office; it was all, he sighed to himself, highly irregular.
But after a while, as Silas took them slowly and somewhat erratically through the twisting channels of the marsh, Stanley began to see that this was not such a bad way to travel. He did after all have a ride all the way to his destination. And all he had to do was sit there, tell a few stories and enjoy the ride while Silas did all the work.
And that, as Silas said good-bye to the Boggart at the end of Deppen Ditch and started paddling up the river on his way to the Forest, is exactly what the Message Rat did.
22
MAGYK
That evening the east wind blew in across the marshes.
Aunt Zelda closed the wooden shutters on the windows and CharmLocked the door to the cat tunnel, making sure that Bert was safely indoors first. Then she walked around the cottage, lighting the lamps and placing storm candles at the windows to keep the wind at bay. She was looking forward to a quiet time at her desk updating her potion list.
But Marcia had got there first. She was leafing through some small Magyk books and busily making notes. Every now and then she tried out a quick spell to see if it still worked, and there would be a small popping noise and a peculiar-smelling puff of smoke. Aunt Zelda was not pleased to see what Marcia had done to the desk either. Marcia had given the desk duck feet to stop it from wobbling and a pair of arms to help with organizing the paperwork.
“When you’ve quite finished, Marcia, I’d like my desk back,” said Aunt Zelda irritably.
“All yours, Zelda,” Marcia said cheerily. She picked up a small square book and took it over to the fireside with her, leaving a pile of mess on the desk. Aunt Zelda swept the mess onto the floor before the arms could grab it and sat herself down with a sigh.
Marcia joined Jenna, Nicko and Boy 412 by the fire. She sat down next to them and opened the book, which Jenna could see was called:
Safety Spelles
and Unharm Charms
For the Use of the Beginner
and Those of Simple Mind
Compiled and Guaranteed by the Wizard Assurance League
“Simple Mind?” said Jenna. “That’s a bit rude, isn’t it?”
“Pay no attention to that,” said Marcia. “It’s very old-fashioned. But the old ones are often the best. Nice and simple, before every Wizard tried to get their own name on spells just by tinkering with them a little, which is when you get trouble. I remember I found what seemed like an easy Fetch Spell once. Latest edition with lots of brand-new unused Charms, which I suppose should have warned me. When I got it to Fetch my python shoes, it Fetched the wretched python as well. Not exactly what you want to see first thing in the morning.”
Marcia was busy leafing through the book.
“There’s an easy version of Cause Yourself to be Unseen somewhere here. I found it yesterday…Ah, yes, here it is.”
Jenna peered over Marcia’s shoulder at the yellowed page that Marcia had open. Like all Magyk books, each page had a different spell or incantation on it, and in the older books these would be carefully written by hand in various strange colored inks. Underneath each spell the page was folded back on itself to form a pocket in which the Charms were placed. The Charm contained the Magyk imprint of the spell. It was often a piece of parchment, although it could be anything. Marcia had seen Charms written on bits of silk, wood, shells and even toast, although that one had not worked properly, as mice had nibbled the ending.
And so this was how a Magyk book worked: the first Wizard to create the spell wrote down the words and instructions on whatever he or she had at hand. It was best to write it down at once, as Wizards are notoriously forgetful creatures, and also the Magyk will fade if not captured quickly. So possibly, if the Wizard were in the middle of having breakfast when he or she thought of the spell, they might just use a piece of (preferably unbuttered) toast. This was the Charm. The number of Charms made would depend on how many times the Wizard wrote down the spell. Or on how many pieces of toast were made for breakfast.
When a Wizard had collected enough spells together, he or she would usually bind them into a book for safekeeping; although, many Magyk books were collections of older books that had fallen apart and been remixed in various forms. A full Magyk book with all its Charms still in their pockets was a rare treasure. It was far more common to find a virtually empty book with only one or two of the less popular Charms still in place.
Some Wizards only made one or two Charms for their more complicated spells, and these were very hard to find, although most Charms could be found in the Pyramid Library back at the Wizard Tower. Marcia missed her library more than anything else in the Tower, but she had been surprised and very pleased with Aunt Zelda’s collection of Magyk books.
“Here you are,” said Marcia, passing the book to Jenna. “Why don’t you take out a Charm?”
Jenna took the small and surprisingly heavy book. It was open at a grubby and much-thumbed page that was written in faded purple ink and large neat writing, which was easy to read.
The words said:
Cause Yourself to be Unseen
a Valued and Esteem’d Spelle
for all those Persons who might wishe
(for Reasons only Pertaining to their
Owne or Others’ safekeeping)
to be Missed by those who may cause
them Harme
Jenna read the words with a feeling of apprehension, not wanting to think about who may cause her harm, and then felt inside the thick paper pocket tha
t held the Charms. Inside the pocket were what felt like a lot of smooth, flat counters. Jenna’s fingers closed around one of the counters and drew out a small oval piece of polished ebony.
“Very nice,” said Marcia approvingly. “Black as the night. Just right. Can you see the words on the Charm?”
Jenna screwed up her eyes in an effort to see what was written on the sliver of ebony. The words were tiny, written in an old-fashioned script in a faded golden ink. Marcia fished a large flat magnifying glass from her belt, which she unfolded and passed to Jenna.
“See if that helps,” she said.
Jenna slowly passed the glass over the golden letters, and as they jumped into view she read them out:
Let me Fade into the Aire
Let all against me know not Where
Let them that Seeke me pass me by
Let Harme not reach me from their Eye.
“Nice and simple,” said Marcia. “Not too hard to remember if things get a bit tricky. Some spells are all well and good, but try and remember them in a crisis and it’s not so easy. Now you need to Imprint the spell.”
“Do what?” asked Jenna.
“Hold the Charm close to you and say the words of the spell as you hold it. You need to remember the exact words. And as you say the words you have to imagine the spell actually happening—that’s the really important part.”
It wasn’t as easy as Jenna expected, particularly with Nicko and Boy 412 watching her. If she remembered the words right, she forgot to imagine the Fade into the Aire bit, and if she thought too much about Fade into the Aire, she forgot the words.
“Have another go,” Marcia encouraged her after Jenna had, to her exasperation, got everything right except one little word. “Everyone thinks spells are easy, but they’re not. But you’re nearly there.”
Jenna took a deep breath. “Stop looking at me,” she told Nicko and Boy 412.
They grinned and pointedly stared at Bert instead. Bert shifted uncomfortably in her sleep. She always knew when someone was looking at her.
