by Angie Sage
“Very well,” he said. “Go after the girl. Bring her back and lock her in the scorpion dungeon. That will teach her that she will not trifle with me.”
Marissa dropped a curtsy and turned to go. Oraton-Marr shouted after her, “Marissa. Before you go, call me a camel, will you?”
Marissa was glad she was facing away from the sorcerer. She fought to gain control of the laugh that was bubbling up. Over the past few weeks there were many things she had thought of calling Oraton-Marr, but a camel had not been on the list. Marissa spluttered and managed to turn it into a cough.
“One from the Queen’s stable. With a night desert guide,” Oraton-Marr added.
“Yes, Your Highness,” Marissa gasped. She ran to the courtyard door, wrenched it open and, at the end of the alley, at last allowed herself to collapse into giggles.
The camel and night guide were duly delivered to the courtyard of the Hospitable Gard, and Marissa hurried off to the Forest Way. She was not looking forward to negotiating the Nighttime Forest but, she told herself, she probably wouldn’t have to. No doubt she would find Tod huddled in the hut at the other end of the Forest Way, too scared to leave. She would be back with her in no time.
But all Marissa found waiting at the end of the Forest Way was a pack of hungry wolverines.
PART XI
FIVE AND A HALF HOURS TO HATCHING
THE CITY OF THE FREE
The Beetle and the Wiz swished noiselessly toward Beggars’ Gate. “It will be unguarded,” Kaznim had told them. “No one bothers with beggars here. In the Red City, they say that the poorer you are, the freer you become. They call their encampment ‘The City of the Free’ because the Queen’s guards never come here. But really, lots of the people here aren’t beggars at all. They just want to not be scared all the time.”
They walked through the pool of light cast by the torches, their flames steady in the still night air, beneath the redstone arch and then were out of the city. They stopped and gazed at the strange sight before them—the ground dropped down into a sea of flickering lights, an earthly reflection of the starlit sky above. They were aware of the low murmur of conversation mixed with the soft snuffles of sleep and knew they were in the presence of hundreds of people.
They followed Kaznim as she walked slowly along the track that curved down to the lights below, and as the track leveled out, Tod heard the whisper of a voice. “Spare a peckrin, miss?” Tod stopped and peered down. An old man wrapped in a swathe of blankets was looking up at her, his hand outstretched. Guessing that a peckrin was a small coin, Tod said, “I’m sorry. I don’t have any money with me.”
“Ah, so you’ve come to join us, have you?” the man asked.
“Er, no. We’re . . . we’re heading for the desert.”
“You’re mad,” came the response. A thin white arm extended from the blankets and pointed into the desert. “There’s a pride on the prowl out there. Saw them at dusk. You’ll be dead in an hour.”
“Oh!” Tod gasped.
“Good thing we’ve got the sleds, then,” Oskar said with a grin. “We’ll outrun any pride. Easy-peasy.”
Kaznim led them slowly along a narrow, winding path that wandered through the City of the Free. Tod was fascinated by the huge variety of tents, ranging from a simple blanket thrown over bent poles to beautiful circular structures made from embroidered cloth with carved wooden doors. Many tents shone with the warm glow of candlelight, which cast shadows of the people within, sitting talking quietly. The soft buzz of conversation reminded Tod of wandering through her village late at night and she felt a pang of homesickness. An urge to turn around and run almost overcame her, but Tod reminded herself that if she wanted the places and the people she loved to stay safe, then she, Ferdie and Oskar were going to have to go into the desert that night and find the Orm Egg.
Before long the City of the Free lay behind them, and they stood on the edge of the wide darkness of the desert. From somewhere in the distance a long, low roar came drifting across the sands.
THE YELLOW OWL
A large yellow owl landed on the roof of the Manuscriptorium, where it sat for some minutes digesting a particularly bony shrew before it spat out a pellet and watched it roll down into the gutter.
Down in the Conservation basement, Darius Wrenn was dwarfed by four figures. Each one scared him for a different reason. The ExtraOrdinary Wizard scared him because he could turn him into a toad or something. Ephaniah Grebe scared him because he was half rat and Marwick scared him because he reminded Darius of a wolf. But the person who upset him the most was Beetle, his boss. Beetle just looked very disappointed, and that made Darius feel worst of all.
The intimidating group was gathered around one of Ephaniah’s worktables, upon which a strange-looking map was spread out. Beetle pushed a list of numbers across to Marwick. “These are the Ways we took the flyers through,” he said. He turned to Darius. “Are these the Way numbers that you gave to the girl, to Kaznim Na-Draa?”
Darius nodded.
“You are sure?”
Beetle sounded so stern that it was all Darius could do to squeak, “Yes.”
Darius watched Marwick check the numbers against the map. After some minutes Marwick looked up and said, “It goes to the Port of the Singing Sands—to a Hidden arch. It’s the end of the road.”
“Sounds right to me,” Beetle said. “I could hear gulls.” He grinned. “Actually, I didn’t see much. I just dumped the flyers and ran.”
Marwick smiled at Darius. “You remembered the Ways well.”
“He would have done better to have remembered his Manuscriptorium Promise,” Beetle said.
Darius gulped and stared at his shoes. He wished he could disappear. If only he could get through the big door and into the Way, he would run and run and run and never, ever come back.
“Ah, well,” Marwick said. “I don’t suppose he meant to. And he was under instructions to be helpful.”
Darius cast a grateful glance at Marwick, who was carefully rolling up the map. “Need a guide?” Marwick asked Septimus.
“Yes, please,” Septimus said. “If you don’t mind leaving Sam?”
Marwick smiled. “Sam needs to sleep. And whenever I go to see him he wakes up and wants to talk, which annoys Dandra, I can tell you. So I reckon I am doing him a favor by disappearing for a day or two. Anyway, I’m intrigued.”
“Thank you, Marwick,” Septimus said. “That would be a great help. Even when we get to the Port of the Singing Sands, we have absolutely no idea where to go from there.”
Darius hardly dared to speak, but he knew he could not possibly make things worse. “Um. Excuse me . . .” he said.
“What?” Beetle snapped.
“The girl, Kaznim. She said she lived in the desert in a tent with stars on it. If that’s any help?”
“A tent with stars on it . . .” Septimus mused, wondering why that sounded familiar.
“Yes. Her mother is an . . . er . . . Pothy Cary.”
Septimus suddenly made the connection. “Dandra!” he said. “She lived in a tent with stars. And Kaznim’s mother took it over. Dandra will know how to get there.”
Beetle was not so sure. “But don’t they move the tents around in deserts?” he asked. “It may not be in the same place now.”
Septimus was already hurrying along the corridor, heading for the wide white stairs. “It’s the only clue we’ve got! Wait here. I’ll be back with Dandra as soon as I can.”
“Right,” Marwick said as Septimus’s purple cloak disappeared around the corner. “We’d better get a few things together. We’ll need water, for a start.”
“I’ll get it!” Darius said. “Do you want it in water bottles you can carry?”
“Yes, we do.” Marwick smiled.
“I won’t be long,” said Darius, and he raced off along the corridor and clattered up the stairs, glad for any excuse to be away from the angry glare of his boss.
Beetle and Marwick watched him go.
“Don’t be too hard on the boy,” Marwick said.
“He broke the Promise,” Beetle replied grimly.
“Then you should give him a chance to mend it,” Marwick replied.
The yellow owl watched his Master running to the Wizard Tower. The languor of a full stomach began to overtake the owl and its eyes began to close. Its claws uncurled and a tiny tube of paper rolled down the slope of the roof and landed in the gutter. There it unfurled and a gust of wind picked it up and sent it fluttering down onto the pavement below.
As the light of the moon shone down on the piece of paper, the owl on the roof fell asleep. As it closed its eyes, the weakness of too many Transformations in too short a time overcame it. The owl-form left the jinnee and the long yellow figure of Jim Knee lay draped along the ridge of the roof. He rolled over, slipped off, and slid down into the large gutter that lay between the double-gabled Manuscriptorium roofs. And there he curled up and fell deep into hibernation.
Ten minutes later, Septimus and Dandra Draa came hurrying toward the Manuscriptorium. “I can’t believe that Alice would go off without saying anything,” Dandra was saying. “Something awful must have happened to her.”
Septimus was shaking his head. “I don’t know, Dandra. I really don’t know.”
The scrap of paper shining in the moonlight caught Septimus’s eye and he stopped to pick it up. “Well!” he gasped. “Another note. How extraordinary.” He passed it over to Dandra, who read it. The note said:
Dear Septimus,
We are going to get the Egg of the Orm. Jim Knee will explain and will tell you how to find us.
Your Apprentice,
Alice TodHunter Moon
“Oh my goodness!” Dandra gasped. “So where’s Jim Knee?” She put her hand on Septimus’s arm. “Septimus, you’ve got to ask him. We have to know where she is!”
Septimus shook his head. “Unfortunately, I have no idea where that jinnee has got to,” he said. “But at least I now have some idea where my Apprentice might be. With your help, Dandra, we’ll get to your old star tent, and with any luck we’ll find her there.”
Bemused, Dandra shook her head. “But how will Alice get there? How on earth does she know where to go?”
“My Apprentice is a PathFinder,” Septimus said. “I am beginning to realize that means she can go pretty much anywhere she wants to.” He smiled. “I suppose it’s a little like having a cat.”
“A cat?” Dandra said indignantly as she followed Septimus into the Manuscriptorium.
“You’re never quite sure where they go, or why. You just hope they come back to you.” Septimus looked at Tod’s note and smiled. “The only difference is, cats don’t send you regular updates.”
As the door to the Manuscriptorium swung closed, a loud snore came from above. But no one heard it. It was only the next day, when Colin Partridge went to investigate the strange noises on the roof, that Jim Knee was discovered, half frozen and delirious. He spent the rest of the winter in front of the fire on the big purple sofa in Septimus’s rooms—which was what he’d wanted in the first place.
THE FORK IN THE ROAD
Nighttime in the desert is hunting time. It is a time when small, soft-skinned creatures bury themselves in the sands and hope that nothing with teeth, claws or stings will come calling. But that night there were four creatures—not so small but relatively soft-skinned—who were about to brave the hunting ground.
The open desert spread out before them. Above, the clear night sky was alive with stars that seemed so vibrant and busy, they almost took away the loneliness of the empty sands ahead. A feeling of excitement began to creep over Tod. They had left the encampment behind and now stood at the beginning of the road that would take them to the Orm Egg—or to within sight of where it lay. All they had to do was follow the road as fast as they could.
The only thing that worried Tod now was if they were going to get to the Egg in time. “How many more grains to go through in the Egg Timer?” Tod asked Kaznim.
Kaznim took the Egg Timer from her pocket and peered at it, taking care to hold it away from Tod. The grains of silver shone like tiny points of light and there were only three left, which Kaznim knew meant that—depending on how soon the next grain was due to move—there was at the most nine hours to go until the Egg hatched. And possibly, if a grain was about to move, only six.
“Let’s have a look,” Oskar said.
Kaznim closed her hand tightly over the Egg Timer. “It loses energy in the dark,” she said. “You can see it in the morning.”
“So how many grains are left?” Tod asked again.
“Six,” Kaznim lied.
“And how many to each hour?” Oskar asked.
Kaznim was pleased to be able to tell the truth this time. “One goes through every three hours,” she said.
“So . . . it looks like the hatching is set for sometime tomorrow evening, then,” Tod said. “That’s good. It gives us lots of time.”
Oskar liked to have things planned out. “Time to steal the Egg?” he asked.
“No, time to get there,” Tod said. “I’ve been thinking. We don’t have to steal the Egg, all we have to do is be there. As long as we make sure that one of us is the first person the Orm sees when it comes out of the Egg so that we stop it from Imprinting on . . .” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “You-know-who.”
Oskar grinned. “Wouldn’t it be great to have a little Orm Imprinting you? I hope it chooses me.”
“Don’t be so stupid, Oskie,” Ferdie snapped. “It’s not going to be that easy. Oraton-Marr is not just going to stand aside and say, ‘Oh, hello, Oskar Sarn, do you want an Orm all of your own? Go ahead, be my guest and have mine,’ is he? Really, Oskar, think about it. This is not going to be a picnic.”
Tod knew that Ferdie and Oskar picked fights when they were nervous. She tried to be peacemaker. “It’s not going to be easy, that’s true,” she said, “but we can do it. Tribe of Three, remember?” Tod made the Tribe of Three sign and Ferdie and Oskar returned it.
“Time to go,” Tod said.
The Wiz and the Beetle sat patiently in the starlight, two steeds waiting for their riders. No one spoke. The two riders took their places, then Kaznim joined Tod, and Ferdie joined Oskar.
“I hope Oraton-Marr doesn’t have a sled,” Oskar said.
“The sorcerer uses Magyk and camels,” Kaznim said. “But they say, in the olden days, the Red Queen had a beautiful SandRider.”
“Okay,” Tod said, a little nervously. “Ready?”
“Ready!” said Oskar.
Tod leaned forward on the Wiz. “Go!” she whispered. The SandRider Charm kicked in.
The Wiz led the way with the Beetle close behind. Both sleds traveled along the tightly packed sand of the road as though they had never known a day’s snow. Tod thought the Wiz ran even better on sand. She felt more in control and the Wiz had a sense of power that she had not been aware of before. It was as though the sled knew that a great expanse of sand was waiting and it longed to run free. For a sled that had always been constrained either by tunnels or tracks, this was heady stuff.
Behind the Wiz ran the Beetle, edgy and energetic. Oskar felt exhilarated. He loved sand dunes in the same way that Tod loved the sea, and suddenly he was able to travel across them at a speed he had only dreamed of. But Oskar knew that for now Tod must lead the way, so he contented himself with daydreaming about arriving at the very moment when the Orm Egg was hatching. He imagined drawing up on the Beetle in a shower of sand just in time to see the tiny creature—which he knew looked like a dragon—come fluttering out of the Egg and land on his hand. He thought how they would gaze into each other’s eyes and be together forever. And then, Oskar thought, he would take his Orm for breathtaking rides through the desert and—
“Hey!” Tod yelled. “Stop!”
Oskar’s dreams came to an abrupt halt. In front the Wiz had stopped and he was about to crash into it. He slewed the Beetle out of the way
and skidded to a halt. “What’s up?” he asked anxiously.
In answer Tod pointed to a fork in the road. Kaznim got off the Wiz and stood looking up at the sky.
“Kaznim’s not sure which way to go,” Tod said. “She’s working it out from the stars.”
But Kaznim had no need to look at the stars—she knew exactly which road led to the star tent. She was in fact struggling with her conscience. Kaznim was well aware that she had promised to take Tod, Oskar and Ferdie to the Orm Egg—and she would honor that promise. What she had not said was when they would get there. Kaznim knew she could not risk going home until she was sure that the Egg had hatched. Only then would the sorcerer return her baby sister to her mother. Kaznim sneaked the Egg Timer from her pocket, hoping that maybe another grain had gone through. Then she need not deceive anyone anymore and could lead them straight to the tent along the right-hand fork. They would arrive in about four hours’ time, and by then the Orm would have already hatched and Imprinted the sorcerer, but that would not be her fault. To Kaznim’s disappointment there were still three grains of silver left.
“Kaznim?” Tod called across. “Which way?”
Kaznim delayed her answer for just a little while longer. The right-hand road led straight home. They would be back at the star tent in under four hours. The left went deep into the Dunes of Kuniun—sand lion territory. Kaznim fought down her desire to go home and also to be honest with three people she had come to like. But she could not. If she wished her baby sister to still be alive when she finally returned, she had no choice.
“Left,” Kaznim replied with a heavy heart. “We take the left.”
SAND LIONS
The Wiz and the Beetle traveled side by side along the wide, smooth road. All were silent as they headed toward the Dunes of Kuniun, each occupied with their own thoughts. Tod and Ferdie were focused on the task ahead, Oskar still daydreaming about “his” Orm. Kaznim was scared: for her sister and of her companions working out what she had done. But her most pressing terror was of sand lions.
