Septimus Heap, Book One: Magyk

by Angie Sage

  “Tonight, however hard you look, you will not see the moon,” said Aunt Zelda. “No one on earth will see the moon tonight. It is not a night to venture out alone on the marsh, and if all the marsh creatures and spirits weren’t safely frozen below the ground, we would be CharmLocked into the cottage by now. But I thought you would like to see the stars without the light of the moon. Your mother always liked looking at the stars.”

  Jenna gulped. “My mother? You mean, my mother when I was born?”

  “Yes,” said Aunt Zelda. “I mean the Queen. She loved the stars. I thought you might too.”

  “I do,” breathed Jenna. “I always used to count them from my window at home if I couldn’t get to sleep. But—how did you know my mother?”

  “I used to see her every year,” said Aunt Zelda. “Until she…well, until things changed. And her mother, your lovely grandmother, I saw her every year too.”

  Mother, grandmother…Jenna began to realize she had a whole family that she knew nothing about. But somehow Aunt Zelda did.

  “Aunt Zelda,” said Jenna slowly, daring at last to ask a question that had been bothering her ever since she had learned who she really was.

  “Hmm?” Aunt Zelda was gazing out across the marsh.

  “What about my father?”

  “Your father? Ah, he was from the Far Countries. He left before you were born.”

  “He left?”

  “He had a boat. He went off to get something or other,” said Aunt Zelda vaguely. “He arrived back at the Port just after you were born with a ship full of treasures for you and your mother, so I heard. But when he was told the terrible news, he sailed away on the next tide.”

  “What—what was his name?” asked Jenna.

  “No idea,” said Aunt Zelda who, along with most people, had paid little attention to the identity of the Queen’s consort. The Succession was passed from mother to daughter, leaving the men in the family to live their lives as they pleased.

  Something in Aunt Zelda’s voice caught Jenna’s attention, and she turned away from the stars to look at her. Jenna caught her breath. She had never really noticed Aunt Zelda’s eyes before, but now the bright piercing blue of the White Witch’s eyes was cutting through the night, shining through the darkness and staring intently out at the marsh.

  “Right,” said Aunt Zelda suddenly, “time to go inside.”

  “But—”

  “I’ll tell you more in the summer. That’s when they used to come, MidSummer Day. I’ll take you there too.”

  “Where?” asked Jenna. “Take me where?”

  “Come on,” said Aunt Zelda. “I don’t like the look of that shadow over there…”

  Aunt Zelda grabbed Jenna’s hand and ran back with her across the snow. Out on the marsh a ravenous Marsh Lynx stopped stalking and turned away. It was too weak now to give chase; had it been a few days earlier, it could have eaten well and seen the winter through. But now the Lynx slunk back to its snow hole and weakly chewed at its last frozen mouse.

  After the Dark of the Moon, the first thin sliver of the new moon appeared in the sky. Each night it grew a little bigger. The skies were clear now that the snow had stopped falling, and every night Jenna watched the moon from the window, while the Shield Bugs moved dreamily in the Preserve Pots, waiting for their moment of freedom.

  “Keep watching,” Aunt Zelda told her. “As the moon grows it draws up the things from the ground. And the cottage draws in the people that wish to come here. The pull is strongest at the full moon, which is when you came.”

  But when the moon was a quarter full, Marcia had left.

  “How come Marcia’s gone?” Jenna asked Aunt Zelda the morning they discovered her departure. “I thought things came back when the moon was growing, not went away.”

  Aunt Zelda looked somewhat grumpy at Jenna’s question. She was annoyed with Marcia for going so suddenly, and she didn’t like anyone messing up her moon theories either.

  “Sometimes,” Aunt Zelda said mysteriously, “things must leave in order to return.” She stomped off into her potion cupboard and firmly locked the door behind her.

  Nicko made a sympathetic face at Jenna and waved her pair of skates at her.

  “Race you to Big Bog.” He grinned.

  “Last one there’s a dead rat.” Jenna laughed.

  Stanley woke up with a start at the words “dead rat” and opened his eyes just in time to see Nicko and Jenna grab their skates and disappear for the day.

  By the time the full moon arrived and Marcia had still not returned, everyone was very worried.

  “I told Marcia to sleep on it,” said Aunt Zelda, “but oh, no, she gets herself all worked up over Silas and just ups and goes in the middle of the night. Not a word since. It really is too bad. I can understand Silas not getting back, what with the Big Freeze, but not Marcia.”

  “She might come back tonight,” ventured Jenna, “seeing as it’s the full moon.”

  “She might,” said Aunt Zelda, “or she might not.”

  Marcia, of course, did not return that night. She spent it as she had spent the last ten nights, in the middle of the Vortex of Shadows and Shades, lying weakly in the pool of filthy water at the bottom of Dungeon Number One. Sitting next to her was Alther Mella, using all the ghostly Magyk he could to help keep Marcia alive. People rarely survived the actual fall into Dungeon Number One, and if they did, they did not last long, but soon sank below the foul water to join the bones that lay just beneath the surface. Without Alther, there is no doubt that the same fate would have befallen Marcia eventually.

  That night, the night of the full moon, as the sun set and the moon rose in the sky, Jenna and Aunt Zelda wrapped themselves up in some quilts and kept watch at the window for Marcia. Jenna soon fell asleep, but Aunt Zelda kept watch all night until the rising of the sun and the setting of the full moon put an end to any faint hopes she may have had of Marcia returning.

  The next day, the Message Rat decided he was strong enough to leave. There was a limit to how much pureed eel even a rat could stomach, and Stanley thought he had well and truly reached that limit.

  However, before Stanley could leave, he either had to be commanded with another message or released with no message. So that morning he coughed a polite cough and said, “Excuse me, all.” Everyone looked at the rat. He had been very quiet while he was recovering, and they were unused to hearing him speak.

  “It is time I returned to the Rat Office. I am already somewhat overdue. But I must ask, Do you require me to take a message?”

  “Dad!” said Jenna. “Take one to Dad!”

  “Who might Dad be?” asked the rat. “And where is he to be found?”

  “We don’t know,” said Aunt Zelda snappily. “There is no message, thank you, Message Rat. You are released.”

  Stanley bowed, very much relieved.

  “Thank you, Madam,” he said. “And, ahem, thank you for your kindness. All of you. I am very grateful.”

  They all watched the rat run off over the snow, leaving small footprints and tailprints behind him.

  “I wish we had sent a message,” said Jenna wistfully.

  “Best not,” Aunt Zelda said. “There’s something not quite right about that rat. Something different from last time.”

  “Well, he was a lot thinner,” Nicko pointed out.

  “Hmm,” murmured Aunt Zelda. “Something’s up. I can feel it.”

  Stanley had a good trip back to the Castle. It wasn’t until he reached the Rat Office that things started to go wrong. He scampered up the recently defrosted drainpipe and knocked on the Rat Office door.

  “Come in!” barked the black rat, only just back on duty after a belated rescue from the frozen Rat Office.

  Stanley sidled in, well aware that he was going to have some explaining to do.

  “You!” thundered the black rat. “At last. How dare you make a fool of me. Are you aware how long you have been away?”

  “Er…two months,” mutter
ed Stanley. He was only too well aware how long he had been away and was beginning to wonder what Dawnie would have to say about it.

  “Er…two months, sir!” yelled the black rat, thumping his tail on the desk in anger. “Are you aware just how stupid you have made me look?”

  Stanley said nothing, thinking that at least some good had come out of his ghastly trip.

  “You will pay for this,” bellowed the black rat. “I will personally see that you never get another job as long as I am in charge here.”

  “But—”

  “But, sir!” the black rat screamed. “What did I tell you? Call me sir!”

  Stanley was silent. There were many things he could think of calling the black rat, but “sir” was not one of them. Suddenly Stanley was aware of something behind him. He wheeled around to find himself staring at the largest pair of muscle-bound rats he had ever seen. They stood threateningly in the Rat Office doorway, cutting out the light and also any chance that Stanley might have had of making a run for it, which he suddenly felt an overpowering urge to do.

  The black rat, however, looked pleased to see them.

  “Ah, good. The boys have arrived. Take him away, boys.”

  “Where?” squeaked Stanley. “Where are you taking me?”

  “Where…are…you…taking…me…sir,” said the black rat through gritted teeth. “To the proxy who sent this message in the first place. He wishes to know where exactly you found the recipient. And as you are no longer a Confidential, you will of course have to tell him.

  “Take him to the Supreme Custodian.”

  32

  THE BIG THAW

  The day after the Message Rat left, the Big Thaw set in. It happened first in the Marram Marshes, which were always a little warmer than anywhere else, and then it spread up the river, through the Forest and into the Castle. It was a great relief to everyone in the Castle, as they had been running out of food supplies due to the Custodian Army having looted many of the winter storerooms to provide DomDaniel with the ingredients for his frequent banquets.

  The Big Thaw also came as a relief to a certain Message Rat who was shivering glumly in a rat trap underneath the floor of the Ladies’ Washroom. Stanley had been left there on account of his refusal to divulge the whereabouts of Aunt Zelda’s cottage. He was not to know that the Hunter had already successfully worked it out from what Simon Heap had told the Supreme Custodian, neither was he to know that no one had any intention of setting him free, although Stanley had been around long enough to guess as much. The Message Rat kept himself going as best he could: he ate what he could catch, mainly spiders and cockroaches; he licked the drips from the thawing drain; and he found himself thinking almost fondly about Mad Jack. Dawnie, meanwhile, had given up on him and gone to live with her sister.

  The Marram Marshes were now awash with water from the rapidly thawing snow. Soon the green of the grass began to show through, and the ground became heavy and wet. The ice in the Mott and the ditches was the last to thaw, but as the Marsh Python began to feel the temperature rise, he started to move about, flicking his tail impatiently and flexing his hundreds of stiffened ribs. Everyone at the cottage was waiting with bated breath for the giant snake to break free. They were not sure how hungry he might be, or how cross. To make sure that Maxie stayed inside, Nicko had tied the wolfhound to the table leg with a thick piece of rope. He was pretty sure that fresh wolfhound would be top of the menu for the Marsh Python once he was released from his icy prison.

  It happened the third afternoon of the Big Thaw. Suddenly there was a loud crack! and the ice above the Marsh Python’s powerful head shattered and sprayed up into the air. The snake reared up, and Jenna, who was the only one around, took refuge behind the chicken boat. The Marsh Python cast a glance in her direction but did not fancy chewing its way through her heavy boots, so it set off rather painfully and slowly around the Mott until it found the way out. It was then that it ran into a spot of bother: the giant snake had seized up. It was stuck in a circle. When it tried to bend in the other direction nothing seemed to work. All it could do was swim around and around the Mott. Every time it tried to turn off into the ditch that would lead it out into the marsh, its muscles refused to work.

  For days the snake was forced to lie in the Mott, snapping at fish and glaring angrily at anyone who came near. Which no one did after it had flicked its long forked tongue out at Boy 412 and sent him flying. At last, one morning the early spring sun came out and warmed the snake up just enough for its stiffened muscles to relax. Creaking like a rusty gate, it swam off painfully in search of a few goats, and slowly over the next few days it almost straightened out. But not completely. To the end of its days, the Marsh Python had a tendency to swim to the right.

  When the Big Thaw reached the Castle, DomDaniel took his two Magogs upriver to Bleak Creek where, in the dead of night, the three beings crossed a narrow mildewed gangplank and boarded his Darke ship, The Vengeance. There they waited some days until the high spring tide that DomDaniel needed to get his ship out of the creek floated them free.

  The morning of the Big Thaw, the Supreme Custodian called a meeting of the Council of the Custodians, unaware that the day before he had forgotten to lock the door to the Ladies’ Washroom. Simon was no longer chained to a pipe, for the Supreme Custodian had begun to see him more as a companion than a hostage, and Simon sat and waited patiently for his usual midmorning visit from him. Simon liked hearing the gossip about DomDaniel’s unreasonable demands and temper tantrums and felt disappointed when the Supreme Custodian did not return at the normal time. He was not to know that the Supreme Custodian, who recently had become somewhat bored with Simon Heap’s company, was at that moment gleefully plotting what DomDaniel called “Operation Compost Heap,” which included the disposal of not only Jenna but the entire Heap family, including Simon.

  After a while, more out of boredom than a desire to escape, Simon tried the door. To his amazement it opened, and he found himself staring into an empty corridor. Simon leaped back inside the washroom and slammed the door shut in a panic. What should he do? Should he escape? Did he want to escape?

  He leaned against the door and thought things over. The only reason for staying was the Supreme Custodian’s vague offer of becoming DomDaniel’s Apprentice. But it had not been repeated. And Simon Heap had learned a lot from the Supreme Custodian in those six weeks he had spent in the Ladies’ Washroom. At the top of the list was not to trust anything the Supreme Custodian said. Next on the list was to look after Number One. And, from now on, Number One in Simon Heap’s life was definitely Simon Heap.

  Simon opened the door again. The corridor was still deserted. He made his decision and strode out of the washroom.

  Silas was wandering mournfully along Wizard Way, gazing up into the grubby windows above the shops and offices that lined the Way, wondering if Simon might be held prisoner somewhere in the dark recesses behind them. A platoon of Guards marched briskly past, and Silas shrank back into a doorway, clutching Marcia’s KeepSafe, hoping it still worked.

  “Psst,” hissed Alther.

  “What?” Silas jumped in surprise. He hadn’t seen much of Alther recently, as the ghost was spending most of his time with Marcia in Dungeon Number One.

  “How’s Marcia today?” Silas whispered.

  “She’s been better,” said Alther grimly.

  “I really think we should let Zelda know,” said Silas.

  “Take my advice, Silas, and don’t go near that Rat Office. It’s been taken over by DomDaniel’s rats from the Badlands. Vicious bunch of thugs. Don’t worry now, I’ll think of something,” said Alther. “There must be a way to get her out.”

  Silas looked dejected. He missed Marcia more than he liked to admit.

  “Cheer up, Silas,” said Alther. “I’ve got someone waiting for you in the tavern. Found him wandering around the Courthouse on my way back from Marcia. Smuggled him out through the tunnel. Better hurry up before he changes his mind and goes o
ff again. He’s a tricky one, your Simon.”

  “Simon!” Silas broke into a broad smile. “Alther, why didn’t you say? Is he all right?”

  “Looks all right,” said Alther tersely.

  Simon had spent nearly two weeks back with his family when, on the day before the full moon, Aunt Zelda stood on the cottage doorstep Listening to something far away.

  “Boys, boys, not now,” she said to Nicko and Boy 412, who were having a duel with some spare broom handles. “I need to concentrate.”

  Nicko and Boy 412 suspended their fight while Aunt Zelda became very still and her eyes took on a faraway look.

  “Someone’s coming,” she said after a while. “I’m sending Boggart out.”

  “At last!” said Jenna. “I wonder if it’s Dad or Marcia. Maybe Simon’s with them? Or Mum? Maybe it’s everyone!”

  Maxie jumped up and bounded over to Jenna, his tail wagging madly. Sometimes Maxie seemed to understand exactly what Jenna was saying. Except when it was something like “Bath time, Maxie!” or “No more biscuits, Maxie!”

  “Calm down, Maxie,” said Aunt Zelda, rubbing the wolfhound’s silky ears. “The trouble is it doesn’t feel like anyone I know.”

  “Oh,” said Jenna, “but who else knows we’re here?”

  “I don’t know,” replied Aunt Zelda. “But whoever it is, they’re in the marshes now. Just arrived. I can feel it. Go and lie down, Maxie. Good boy. Now, where’s that Boggart?”

  Aunt Zelda gave a piercing whistle. The squat brown figure climbed out of the Mott and waddled up the path to the cottage.

  “Not so loud,” he complained, rubbing his small round ears. “Goes right through me that does.” He nodded to Jenna. “Evenin’, miss.”

  “Hello, Boggart.” Jenna smiled. The Boggart always made her smile.

  “Boggart,” said Aunt Zelda, “there’s someone coming through the marshes. More than one perhaps. I’m not sure. Can you just nip off and find out who it is?”