by Angie Sage
The Brownies saw him coming, and desperate to escape, they stupidly piled themselves up in the farthest corner away from the Boggart, higher and higher until every Quake Ooze Brownie but one, a young one out for the first time, was on the teetering pile in the far corner by the desk. Suddenly the young Brownie shot out from underneath the hearth rug. Its anxious red eyes shone from its pointy face and its bony fingers and toes clattered on the stone floor as, watched by everyone, it scuttled down the length of the room to join the pile. It threw itself onto the slimy heap and joined the throng of little red eyes staring at the Boggart.
“Dunno why they don’t just leave. Blasted Brownies,” said the Boggart. “Still, there’s bin a terrible storm. Don’t suppose they wanter go out of a nice warm cottage. You seen that big ship out there stuck on the marshes sinkin’ down into the mud? They’re lucky all them Brownies is in ’ere an’ not out there, busy draggin’ ’em down inter the Ooze.”
Everyone exchanged glances.
“Yes, aren’t they just?” said Aunt Zelda who knew exactly which ship the Boggart was talking about, having been too engrossed watching everything from the kitchen window with the Boggart to have noticed the invasion of the Brownies.
“Yeah. Well, I’ll be off now,” said the Boggart. “Can’t stand bein’ so clean anymore. Just want ter find a nice bit a mud.”
“Well, there’s no shortage of that outside, Boggart,” said Aunt Zelda.
“Yeah,” said the Boggart. “Er, just wanter say thank you, Zelda, fer…well, fer lookin’ after me, like. Ta. Them Brownies’ll leave when I’ve gone. If you get any more trouble, just yell.”
The Boggart waddled out of the door to spend a few happy hours choosing a patch of mud to spend the rest of the night in. He was spoiled for choice.
As soon as he left, the Brownies became restless, their little red eyes exchanging glances and looking at the open door. When they were quite sure that the Boggart was really gone, a cacophony of excited shrieks started up and the pile suddenly collapsed in a spray of brown goo. Free of Boggart Breath at last, the Brownie pack headed for the door. It rushed down the island, streamed over the Mott bridge and headed out across the Marram Marshes. Straight for the stranded Vengeance.
“You know,” said Aunt Zelda as she watched the Brownies disappear into the shadows of the marsh, “I almost feel sorry for them.”
“What, the Brownies or the Vengeance?” asked Jenna.
“Both,” said Aunt Zelda.
“Well, I don’t,” said Nicko. “They deserve each other.”
Even so, no one wanted to watch what happened to the Vengeance that night. And no one wanted to talk about it either.
Later, after they had cleared as much brown goo out of the cottage as they could, Aunt Zelda surveyed the damage, determined to look on the bright side.
“It’s really not so bad,” she said. “The books are fine—well, at least they will be when they’ve all dried out and I can redo the potions. Most of them were coming up to their drink-by date anyway. And the really important ones are in the Safe. The Brownies didn’t eat all the chairs like last time, and they didn’t even poo on the table. So, all in all, it could have been worse. Much worse.”
Marcia sat down and took off her wrecked purple python shoes. She put them by the fire to dry while she considered whether to do a Shoe Renew or not. Strictly speaking, Marcia knew she shouldn’t. Magyk was not meant to be used for her own comfort. It was one thing to sort out her cloak, which was part of the tools of her trade, but she could hardly pretend that the pointy pythons were necessary for the performance of Magyk. So they sat steaming by the fire, giving off a faint but disagreeable smell of moldy snake.
“You can have my spare pair of galoshes,” Aunt Zelda offered. “Much more practical for around here.”
“Thank you, Zelda,” said Marcia dismally. She hated galoshes.
“Oh, cheer up, Marcia,” said Aunt Zelda irritatingly. “Worse things happen at sea.”
46
A VISITOR
The next morning all that Jenna could see of the Vengeance was the top of the tallest mast sticking out of the marsh like a lone flagpole, from which fluttered the remnants of the tops’l. The remains of the Vengeance was not something Jenna wanted to look at, but like everyone in the cottage who woke up after her, she had to see with her own eyes what had happened to the Darke ship. Jenna closed the shutter and turned away. There was another boat that she would much rather see.
The Dragon Boat.
Jenna stepped out of the cottage into the early morning spring sunshine. The Dragon Boat lay majestically in the Mott, floating high in the water, her neck stretched out and her golden head held aloft to catch the warmth of the first sunlight to fall upon her for hundreds of years. The shimmer of the green scales on the dragon’s neck and tail and the glint of the gold on her hull made Jenna screw her eyes up against the glare. The dragon had her eyes half closed too. At first Jenna thought the dragon was still asleep, but then she realized that she was also shielding her eyes against the brightness of the light. Ever since Hotep-Ra had left her entombed under the earth, the only light the Dragon Boat had seen had been a dull glow from a lantern.
Jenna walked down the slope to the landing stage. The boat was big, much bigger than she remembered from the night before, and was wedged tightly into the Mott now that the floodwater had left the marshes. Jenna hoped the dragon did not feel trapped. She reached up on tiptoes to put her hand on the dragon’s neck.
Good morning, my lady, the dragon’s voice came to her.
“Good morning, Dragon,” Jenna whispered. “I hope you’re comfortable in the Mott.”
There is water beneath me, and the air smells of salt and sunshine. What more could I wish for? asked the dragon.
“Nothing. Nothing at all,” agreed Jenna. She sat down on the landing stage and watched the curls of the early morning mist disappear in the warmth of the sun. Then she leaned back contentedly against the Dragon Boat and listened to the dabblings and splashings of the various creatures in the Mott. Jenna had become used to all the underwater inhabitants by now. She no longer shuddered at the eels who made their way out along the Mott on their long journey to the Sargasso Sea. She didn’t mind the Water Nixies too much, although she no longer paddled with bare feet in the mud, after one had stuck itself onto her big toe and Aunt Zelda had had to threaten it with the toasting fork to get it to drop off. Jenna even quite liked the Marsh Python, but that was probably because it had not returned since the Big Thaw. She knew the noises and splashes that each creature made, but as she sat in the sun, dreamily listening to the splish of a water rat and the gloop of a mudfish, she heard something she did not recognize.
The creature, whatever it was, moaned and groaned pathetically. Then it puffed, splashed and groaned some more. Jenna had never heard anything like it before. It also sounded rather large. Taking care to keep out of sight, Jenna crept behind the thick green tail of the Dragon Boat, which was curled up and resting on the landing stage; then she peered over to see what creature could possibly be making so much fuss.
It was the Apprentice.
He lay facedown on a tarry plank of wood that looked as though it had come from the Vengeance and was paddling it along the Mott using just his hands. He looked exhausted. His grubby green robes clung to him and steamed in the early morning warmth, and his lanky dark hair was straggling over his eyes. He seemed hardly to have the energy to raise his head and look where he was going.
“Oi!” yelled Jenna. “Go away.” She picked up a rock to throw at him.
“No. Please don’t,” pleaded the boy.
Nicko appeared.
“What’s up, Jen?” He followed Jenna’s gaze. “Hey, shove off, you!” he yelled.
The Apprentice took no notice. He paddled his plank up to the landing stage and then just lay there, exhausted.
“What do you want?” asked Jenna.
“I…the ship…it’s gone down. I escaped.”
“Scum always floats to the surface,” Nicko observed.
“We were covered in creatures. Brown, slimy…things.” The boy shivered. “They pulled us down into the marsh. I couldn’t breathe. Everyone’s gone. Please help me.”
Jenna stared at him, wavering. She had woken up early because she had been having nightmares full of screaming Brownies pulling her down into the marsh. Jenna shuddered. She didn’t want to think about it. If she couldn’t bear to even think about it, how much worse must it be for a boy who had actually been there?
The Apprentice could see that Jenna was hesitating. He tried again.
“I—I’m sorry for what I did to that animal of yours.”
“The Boggart is not an animal,” said Jenna indignantly. “And he is not ours. He is a creature of the marsh. He belongs to no one.”
“Oh.” The Apprentice could see he had made a mistake. He changed back to what had worked before.
“I’m sorry. I—I just…feel so scared.”
Jenna relented.
“We can’t just leave him lying on a plank,” she said to Nicko.
“I don’t see why not,” said Nicko, “except I suppose he’s polluting the Mott.”
“We’d better take him inside,” said Jenna. “Come on, give us a hand.”
They helped the Apprentice off his plank and half carried, half led him up the path and into the cottage.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in” was Aunt Zelda’s comment as Nicko and Jenna dumped the boy down in front of the fire, waking up a bleary-eyed Boy 412.
Boy 412 got up and moved away. He had seen a flicker of Darke Magyk as the Apprentice came in.
The Apprentice sat pale and shivering beside the fire. He looked ill.
“Don’t let him out of your sight, Nicko,” said Aunt Zelda. “I’ll go and get him a hot drink.”
Aunt Zelda came back with a mug of chamomile and cabbage tea. The Apprentice pulled a face but drank it down. At least it was hot.
When he had finished, Aunt Zelda said to him, “I think you had better tell us why you have come here. Or rather, you had better tell Madam Marcia. Marcia, we have a visitor.”
Marcia was at the door, having just got back from an early morning walk around the island, partly to see what had happened to the Vengeance but mostly just to taste the sweet spring air and the even sweeter taste of freedom. Although Marcia was thin after almost five weeks’ imprisonment and there were still dark shadows under her eyes, she looked much better than she had the night before. Her purple silk robes and tunic were fresh and clean, thanks to a complete Five-Minute DeepClean Spell, which she hoped had got rid of any traces of Darke Magyk. Darke Magyk was sticky stuff and Marcia had had to be particularly thorough. Her belt shone bright after its Pristine Polish and around her neck hung the Akhu Amulet. Marcia felt good. She had her Magyk back, once again she was ExtraOrdinary Wizard, and all was right with the world.
Apart from the galoshes.
Marcia kicked the offending articles of footwear off at the door and peered into the cottage, which seemed gloomy after the bright spring sunshine. There was a particular darkness by the fire, and it took a moment for Marcia to register who exactly was sitting there. When she realized who it was, her expression clouded.
“Ah, the rat from the sinking ship,” she snapped.
The Apprentice said nothing. He looked shiftily at Marcia, his pitch-black eyes coming to rest on the Amulet.
“Don’t touch him, anyone,” warned Marcia.
Jenna was surprised at Marcia’s tone, but she moved away from the Apprentice as did Nicko. Boy 412 went over to Marcia.
The Apprentice was left alone by the fire. He turned to face the disapproving circle that surrounded him. It was not meant to go like this. They were meant to feel sorry for him. The Queenling did. He had already won her over. And the mad White Witch. It was just his luck that the interfering ex–ExtraOrdinary Wizard had turned up at the wrong moment. He scowled in frustration.
Jenna looked at the Apprentice. He looked different somehow, but she could not work out what it was. She put it down to his terrible night on a ship. Being dragged into the Quake Ooze by hundreds of screaming Brownies would be enough to give anyone the dark, haunted look in the boy’s eyes.
But Marcia knew why the boy looked different. On her morning walk around the island she had seen the reason why, and it was a sight that had quite put her off her breakfast; although, admittedly, it did not take much to put Marcia off Aunt Zelda’s breakfasts.
So when the Apprentice suddenly leaped to his feet and ran toward Marcia with his hands outstretched, poised to grab at her throat, Marcia was ready for him. She ripped the clutching fingers from the Amulet and hurled the Apprentice out the door with a resounding crack of a Thunderflash.
The boy lay sprawled, unconscious, on the path.
Everyone crowded around.
Aunt Zelda was shocked. “Marcia,” she muttered, “I think you might have overdone it. He may be the most unpleasant boy I have ever had the misfortune to come across, but he’s still only a boy.”
“Not necessarily” was Marcia’s grim reply. “And I haven’t finished yet. Stand back, please, everyone.”
“But,” whispered Jenna, “he’s our brother.”
“I think not,” said Marcia crisply.
Aunt Zelda put her hand on Marcia’s arm. “Marcia. I know you’re angry. You have every right to be after your time as a prisoner, but you mustn’t take it out on a child.”
“I’m not taking it out on a child, Zelda. You should know me better than that. This is no child. This is DomDaniel.”
“What?”
“Anyway, Zelda, I am no Necromancer,” Marcia told her. “I will never take a life. All I can do is to return him to where he was when he did this dreadful thing—to make sure that he does not profit from what he has done.”
“No!” yelled the Apprentice-shaped DomDaniel.
He cursed the thin, reedy voice in which he was forced to speak. It had annoyed him enough to hear it when it had belonged to the wretched boy, but now that it belonged to him it was unbearable.
DomDaniel struggled to his feet. He could not believe the failure of his plan to retrieve the Amulet. He had had them all fooled. They had taken him in out of their misguided pity, and they would have looked after him too, until he found the right time to take back the Amulet. And then—ah, how different things would have been then. Desperately he gave it one last try. He threw himself to his knees.
“Please,” he begged. “You’ve got it wrong. It’s only me. I’m not—”
“Begone!” Marcia commanded him.
“No!” he screamed.
But Marcia continued:
Begone.
Back to where you were,
When you were
What you were!
And he was gone, back to the Vengeance, buried deep in the dark recesses of the mud and the Ooze.
Aunt Zelda looked upset. She still could not believe that the Apprentice really was DomDaniel. “That’s a terrible thing to do, Marcia,” she said. “Poor boy.”
“Poor boy, my foot,” snapped Marcia. “There’s something you should see.”
47
THE APPRENTICE
They set off at a brisk pace, Marcia striding ahead of them as best she could in her galoshes. Aunt Zelda had to break into a trot to keep up. She wore a look of dismay as she took in the destruction wrought by the floodwaters. There was mud, seaweed and slime everywhere. It hadn’t looked so bad in the moonlight the previous night, and besides, she had been so relieved to see everyone actually alive that a bit of mud and mess hardly seemed to matter. But in the revealing light of the morning it looked miserable. Suddenly she gave a cry of dismay.
“The chicken boat has gone! My chickens, my poor little chickens!”
“There are more important things in life than chickens,” Marcia declared, moving purposefully ahead.
“The rabbits!” wailed Aunt Zelda, s
uddenly realizing that the burrows must have all been swept away. “My poor bunnies, all gone.”
“Oh, do be quiet, Zelda!” Marcia snapped irritably.
Not for the first time, Aunt Zelda thought that Marcia’s return to the Wizard Tower could not come soon enough for her. Marcia led the way like a purple pied piper in full flight, marching across the mud, leading Jenna, Nicko, Boy 412 and a flustered Aunt Zelda to a spot beside the Mott just below the duck house.
As they neared their destination, Marcia stopped, wheeled around and said, “Now, I just want to tell you, this is not a pretty sight. In fact, maybe only Zelda should see this. I don’t want to go giving you all nightmares.”
“We’ve been having those already,” declared Jenna. “I don’t see what could be worse than my nightmares last night.”
Boy 412 and Nicko nodded in agreement. They had both slept very badly the previous night.
“Very well, then,” said Marcia. She stepped carefully across the mud behind the duck house and stopped by the Mott. “This is what I found this morning.”
“Eurgh!” Jenna hid her face in her hands.
“Oh, oh, oh,” gasped Aunt Zelda.
Boy 412 and Nicko were silent. They felt sick. Suddenly Nicko disappeared down to the Mott and was sick.
Lying on the muddy grass beside the Mott was what at first glance looked like an empty green sack. On second glance it looked like some strange unstuffed scarecrow. But on third glance, which Jenna only managed through her fingers covering her eyes, it was only too apparent what lay before them.
The empty body of the Apprentice.
Like a deflated balloon, the Apprentice lay, drained of all life and substance. His empty skin, still clad in its wet, salt-stained robes, lay strewn across the mud, discarded like an old banana skin.
“This,” said Marcia, “is the real Apprentice. I found him this morning on my walk. Which is why I knew for sure that the ‘Apprentice’ you had sitting by the fire was an impostor.”
