SandRider

by Angie Sage

  Septimus held the cards and was still for a moment. “Yes,” he said. “It’s faint. But I can Feel . . . echoes of Magyk. But not our Magyk.”

  Tod was excited that Septimus could Feel it too. Her confidence grew. “So now spread the cards out so that they run one to twelve, picture side up,” she told him.

  Septimus was amused that his new Apprentice had suddenly turned teacher. Obediently, he did as he was told so that a rainbow of cards ran across the desk.

  “Cool card game,” said Jo-Jo. “We should get some like that for the Grot.” “The Grot” was the slang name for Gothyk Grotto, the shop where Jo-Jo worked.

  “They’re not pretend,” Tod said scathingly. “They’re for real.” But Jo-Jo had sowed a seed of doubt and Tod began to be afraid that these might indeed be some kind of game.

  “They belong to the little girl who came with Sam and Marwick,” Septimus said. “I saw her playing with them. She did actually tell me they were a card game.”

  “Oh,” said Tod. She suddenly felt very foolish. If Septimus too thought they were a game, she had made a really stupid mistake.

  Septimus looked up and smiled at Tod. “I didn’t believe her. I could see they were more than that. But we had other things to think about right then. Well done, Tod. I was wondering how to get a closer look without upsetting her.” He examined the cards one by one, peering closely at each diagram detailing a growing embryo unfolding like a bud.

  Nicko, the seafaring brother, spoke. “They’re like gulls’ eggs,” he said. “I’ve seen the chick at all these stages.” He pulled a face. “They taste revolting. You’d be surprised how crunchy the little bones are once it begins to look like a bird. And the tiny feathers get stuck between your teeth. Then, when you try to pull them out they break off and—” He stopped. “What?” he demanded. “What are you looking at me like that for?”

  “Yuck,” said Jo-Jo. “That is authentic yuck.”

  “The stuff you guys eat at sea is unbelievable,” said Erik.

  Nicko shrugged. “You’ll try anything when you’re starving on a rock,” he said.

  Septimus looked up at Tod. “This has to be the development of the Orm inside the Egg. Twelve cards, one for each week.”

  “And there was sand in the box too,” Tod said excitedly. “She said it was from her home.”

  “Well, well, did she now?” Septimus murmured. “Sand from a desert . . . It all fits.” He shook his head. “But why has the little girl got them—what is her name again?”

  “Kaznim Na-Draa,” Tod said.

  “Draa,” said Septimus. “Strange coincidence. Why she has these with her is a mystery. We will ask her tomorrow.”

  “I don’t think she’ll tell us,” Tod said. She explained what had happened outside the Sick Bay when the box fell on the floor, leaving out the tirade against Dandra. Recently there had been a campaign in the Wizard Tower against gossip. The catchphrase had been: Mud sticks—so don’t throw it. Tod didn’t want to throw any mud against Dandra, someone she admired and liked very much.

  Septimus was thinking. “Draa . . . Draa,” he was murmuring. “It all fits. You know that Dandra lived in a desert before she came to us?” He got up and walked over to the Quiet Room. “Dandra, can you leave your patient for a few minutes?”

  Dandra woke Marwick so that he could watch Sam and tiptoed out of the Quiet Room. “Alice!” she said very disapprovingly. “What are you doing here? Go back to bed at once.”

  “It’s all right, Dandra,” Septimus said. “Tod has brought us something rather important. And it won’t wait. What do you make of this?” He showed Dandra the rainbow of cards.

  “It is the embryonic development of a reptile,” Dandra said. “In the later stages it looks like a dragon, but the early stages are significantly different.”

  “We think it is an Orm,” Septimus said.

  “Really?” Dandra put on a pair of small spectacles and looked closely at the cards.

  “There’s stuff on the other side, too,” Tod pointed out. “Like a timetable. Look.” She turned the cards over and spread them across the desk. The back of each card was divided into seven spaces and each space was split into eight. “It’s like seven days of the week,” Tod said. “And each day is split into three-hour slots.”

  “Like Watches on a boat,” said Nicko.

  “True,” Septimus agreed. “Some task that has to be done at regular intervals, maybe?”

  “Turning the Egg!” Tod said excitedly. “To keep it moving as though it were in its parent’s coils—like it said in the book.”

  Septimus nodded. “Yes . . . yes, that would fit very well.”

  Tod felt thrilled to be taking an equal part in such an important discussion, and to be listened to because what she was saying actually mattered. She watched Septimus peer at the cards, frowning. She guessed what he was going to say.

  “If that is the case,” Septimus said, “then the task is very nearly complete. Look.” Closer examination showed that the first eleven cards had all their boxes ticked. Card twelve—the bright red—had the first three days ticked and the first two boxes for the fourth day. The rest were blank.

  Septimus picked up the red card and turned it over. It showed a tiny winged dragonlike creature curled into a ball. Its head was big, its eyes closed and its legs folded beneath its belly, with its tail wrapped around its body. On top of its nose was a pointed spike. “I am very concerned,” Septimus said, “that this is the stage of development that the Egg of the Orm has reached. Which means that we have only . . . sheesh . . . three days to find it before it hatches.”

  Everyone stared down at the cards. No one spoke. And then Jo-Jo said, “Cool. A baby Orm. That is so totally cool.”

  “Shut up, Jo-Jo,” chorused his brothers.

  “Dillop,” added Nicko.

  “But it is cool,” Jo-Jo protested. “Just think if we had one here. How amazing would that be?”

  “Jo-Jo,” Septimus said. “You are, as Nicko pointed out, a dillop. But actually, you have just said something rather interesting.”

  PART V

  FORTY-EIGHT HOURS TO HATCHING

  A DISSATISFIED VISITOR

  The next morning Tod woke unusually early. It took her a few moments to remember why she was sleeping on the floor of her tent and some moments more to realize that the very reason for her being on the floor had disappeared: her bed was empty and Kaznim was gone. Tod leaped up in dismay, unable to believe her eyes.

  The night before, as she left the Sick Bay, Septimus had said that her quick thinking had very likely saved them all from a highly dangerous situation. He was, he had told everyone, very proud of his new Apprentice. “Well done for putting Kaznim Na-Draa in your tent,” he had said to Tod as he’d walked her to the door. “Keep a close eye on her from now on. Bring her up to my rooms for breakfast in the morning and we will all have a talk.” Then he had smiled and said, “I’ll leave it to you to ask her where the Orm Egg is. You have the magic touch.” Tod hadn’t been too sure about that, but she’d been delighted that Septimus trusted her so much.

  And now Tod stared at the Kaznim-shaped space in her bed, horrified. She had blown it. All Septimus’s trust was for nothing. Frantically, Tod threw on her clothes, raced out of the dorm and ran into the early-morning quiet of the Apprentice corridor. She stopped at the spiral stairs, which were traveling slowly on nighttime mode, heading downward. Above, Tod heard the unusual sound of footsteps—someone was running down. To her utter relief she saw Kaznim approaching at top speed. Tod was amazed at how Kaznim had overcome her fear of the stairs. “Hey!” she called out.

  “Go away!” Kaznim shouted as she rattled past.

  Tod leaped on and clattered after her. “Hey, wait!” she said.

  “Go away!” Kaznim yelled back and hurried on, whirling around like a top.

  “Kaznim . . .” Tod was getting dizzy, but she dared not slow down. “Kaznim . . . please . . . What’s the matter?”

  Ka
znim stopped and turned around, furious. “I hate this place. And I hate you. You stole my box, you stole my cards and if you had found it, you would have stolen my Egg Timer too—”

  “No! No, I didn’t steal anything,” Tod protested a little guiltily.

  “Yes, you did! You took the cards when I was asleep. I woke up in the dark and they weren’t there!” Kaznim’s angry voice echoed into the Great Hall as the stairs took them slowly down past the flickering pictures, bright in the dawn dimness.

  “Shh!” It was not done to shout in the Great Hall, and Tod felt responsible for Kaznim’s behavior. “Look,” she said quietly, “I didn’t steal your box. No way. I didn’t steal your cards, either. Okay, I admit I borrowed them, but that’s all. I’m sorry, but you were asleep and I couldn’t ask you. I gave them back.”

  “So what!” Kaznim snapped. “It was my stuff and you took it. You’re a nasty, sneaky pickpocket and I hate you.”

  “I’m really sorry, Kaznim, but you see—”

  The stairs had now reached the ground and Kaznim—whose anger had driven away her fear of the stairs—jumped off without a thought. While the words wandering across the floor bid her GOOD MORNING, YOUNG GUEST, HAVE A HAPPY DAY IN THE WIZARD TOWER, Kaznim yelled, “You’re all murderers and thieves!”

  Tod jumped off the stairs to an accompanying wish from the floor—GOOD MORNING, EXTRAORDINARY APPRENTICE, HAVE A HAPPY DAY WITH YOUR NEW FRIEND—and hurried to catch up with Kaznim. “No, Kaznim . . . wait. We’re not thieves. And there’s no way we’re murderers. Honestly, we’re not . . .”

  Kaznim stopped and spun around, her dark eyes blazing with anger. “Yes, you are! That horrible murderer woman has stolen my tortoise!”

  Tod knew exactly who she meant. “Kaznim, Dandra hasn’t stolen your tortoise. You gave it to her.”

  “I gave my tortoise to Sam,” Kaznim yelled. “Not her!”

  Tod was relieved to see that apart from Jim Knee wrapped in a fur coat, sleeping on the visitors’ bench, there was no one in the Great Hall to hear Kaznim shouting. “Is that where you went just now? Up to the Sick Bay?” Tod asked, following Kaznim as she headed across toward the open doors, beyond which Catchpole was sweeping the snow off the top step.

  “Yes. I woke up because I missed my tortoise . . .” Kaznim’s eyes filled with tears and made Tod feel very guilty. “So I went up to see Sam. There was no one there except for Marwick. I asked him if I could have Ptolemy back and he said yes. But then she came in and took my tortoise away from me!”

  “Kaznim, please. I’m really sorry about Ptolemy—”

  Kaznim did not want Tod’s sympathy and she knew that the only way to avoid crying was to stay angry. “You’re not sorry!” she yelled.

  “I am, honestly. But I expect Dandra thought that Sam still needed Ptolemy,” Tod said, wondering how to make things better. Behind Kaznim she could see Boris Catchpole coming in from sweeping the newly fallen snow off the top of the outside steps. Aware that the officious Catchpole was looking at them disapprovingly, Tod said soothingly, “Kaznim, why don’t we go up to the Sick Bay together and I will talk to Dr. Draa? I’m sure we can sort this out.”

  “I’m not talking to her,” said Kaznim. Her voice went up a few more decibels, just as a group of elderly Wizards wandered in from the canteen. “Dandra Draa is a murderer. She killed my father and now she has stolen my tortoise and I hate her! I hate everyone in this horrible place—every single one!”

  Tod and the elderly Wizards stood shocked as Kaznim spun around and set off at a run toward the slowly closing doors. Tod raced after her, but Kaznim was fast.

  Kaznim reached the doors, wheeled around and yelled, “She’ll be sorry! I’ll be back with someone much more powerful than your stupid wizard and then you’ll all be sorry!” And as the doors drew dangerously close together, Kaznim Na-Draa threw herself into the rapidly narrowing gap.

  “No!” Tod shouted, afraid that Kaznim would be crushed like a nut in a nutcracker. But the small girl wriggled through and the next moment the doors settled together with their familiar soft thunk.

  Quickly Tod gave the new day’s password and, agonizingly slowly, the doors began to open again. Aware that she was being watched by Catchpole, Tod hopped up and down impatiently, waiting for the doors to open wide enough for her to slip through. Tod did not like Boris Catchpole. He hadn’t actually ever been mean to her, but there was something in his manner that told her he would not pass up the chance. And that morning he didn’t.

  FUGITIVE

  The silver doors of the Wizard Tower closed softly behind Kaznim and the cold hit her like a hammer. It was like nothing she had ever experienced; she could feel it seeping into her bones, thickening her blood, slowing her thoughts. She breathed in and the frosty air seared her lungs. Her thin red coat gave about as much warmth as a sheet of paper and her bare feet in her sandals ached. But Kaznim knew that there was no going back into the warmth of the Wizard Tower—at least not right then. But she would make good on her threat. She would indeed come back for her tortoise and she would not come alone. She would bring the sorcerer. Oraton-Marr was older, wiser and much more powerful than the two-faced young man with his soft blond curls and fancy purple robes. Then they would indeed be sorry.

  Seething with anger and conveniently forgetting that the sorcerer she was lining up for a Wizard Tower takeover had actually stolen her baby sister, Kaznim took off down the wide, white marble steps. She headed quickly across a large courtyard lit by flaming torches, bright in the twilight of the winter dawn.

  The courtyard was a strangely exotic place and had Kaznim not been running away, she would have happily wandered through, looking at the cold, white sand that was banked up against the walls as if blown into drifts, and the beautiful, dancing colored lights. But Kaznim had no time to stop and stare. She hurried toward a massive archway that led out of the courtyard, her sandals flip-flapping as she went. In seconds she was going through the arch, glancing up at the beautiful blue lapis that lined it, reminding her of the egg at home. And then she was out. She turned briefly to check that no one had followed her, then ducked out of sight and stopped to catch her breath. Shivering violently, Kaznim stared at the scene before her, trying to make sense of it.

  In front of her stretched a beautiful, wide avenue lit with flaming torches perched in tall silver torchposts that ran down its entire length. On either side of the avenue were low buildings of an ancient yellowing stone. Most of these housed shops and small businesses, somewhat obscured by a variety of stalls that were being set up in front of them. Straight down the middle of the avenue was an empty roadway, which was lined with banks of the strange, sparkling white sand. The surface of the roadway itself looked to Kaznim like white frosted glass. It was both beautiful and bizarre and she had no idea what it could possibly be.

  It was the start of the course for the annual Manuscriptorium Sled Race. A wide racetrack of compacted, icy snow ran down the center of Wizard Way, which led from the Palace to the Wizard Tower. All the preparation had been done the day before, and now, early in the morning, the people were beginning to venture out to begin what promised to be an exciting day. Stalls were being set up behind the racetrack walls, and a low buzz of excited chatter filled the air. A boy selling hot chestnuts was tending a brazier on wheels close to Kaznim. He had just set the first batch of chestnuts on the griddle when he noticed a wide-eyed, slight girl in the long red coat and bare feet in summer sandals. He wondered who she was; she looked so cold that he was quite worried for her. “Hey!” he said. “Come and stand by the fire. Get yourself warm.”

  Kaznim smiled shyly and shook her head. She was scared that any minute now, someone from the giant stone tower would be out to track her down. Relieved that the sneaky pickpocket Apprentice girl had not found it, she took the pale blue origami paper bird from her secret pocket and with shaking hands began to unfold it. From the bird’s body Kaznim took the small opal pebble, clutched it in her fist and muttered the words the s
orcerer had taught her:

  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.

  Once again, Kaznim felt the warm, buzzing sensation of ancient Magyk enveloping her. As it spread through her body, her shivering stopped and when the chestnut boy turned around to offer her a bag of hot chestnuts, he couldn’t see her. It was strange, he thought, that he hadn’t seen her go.

  SQUEEZE-THROUGH

  Inside the Great Hall, Tod watched the doors to the Wizard Tower begin to open once more. “I hope you’re not planning to do a Squeeze-Through like your young friend,” Catchpole said. Running through the doors before they were fully open was known as a “Squeeze-Through,” and Apprentices were banned from doing it. It was considered bad form even for Wizards not to wait until the doors had fully opened and settled onto their hinges.

  Desperation made Tod brave. “I have to get out. It’s an emergency,” she said, edgily eyeing the doors, which always moved slowly in frosty weather.

  “An emergency,” Catchpole said mockingly. “Huh! And I’m a banana.”

  “You said it,” Tod muttered under her breath.

  The doors were now showing a gap just about wide enough for her to get through, but Boris Catchpole had planted himself in front of it with his broom held horizontally. He looked down at Tod pompously. “An ExtraOrdinary Apprentice is expected to set an example,” he said. “She is not expected to have a slanging match in the Great Hall nor is she expected to play tag within the confines of the Wizard Tower.”

  “It’s not tag!” Tod shouted in exasperation, and heard tut-tutting from the elderly Wizards who were now discussing the bad behavior of modern-day Apprentices. “I told you, Catchpole. It’s an emergency.”