Fyre

by Angie Sage

  “It matters not a jot to me when you choose to see Miss Pigeon,” Marcia said icily. “However, I will be having words with Miss Pigeon about using work time for social engagements.” Marcia turned on her purple python heel and strode off.

  Milo caught up with her at the foot of the stairs. “But it’s not a social—”

  Marcia glared at Milo. “I find that I have other commitments this evening. Double speed!” The stairs did Marcia’s bidding and took her whirling upward. A distant scream followed by a thump came from somewhere far above as a Wizard was thrown off by the sudden change of speed.

  Beetle and Milo watched Marcia’s purple cloak disappear.

  “Bother,” Milo said. “Bother, bother, bother.”

  “I’ll second that,” said Beetle.

  On the way back to the Manuscriptorium, Beetle saw Jenna’s distinctive red cloak going past the Manuscriptorium, and he decided to take a detour to check out the nearest of Marcellus’s crosses. After a fruitless hour he discovered that the three closest to the Wizard Tower were not possible to verify. Two were on top of roofs and one was actually inside a building. He suspected that the others would be the same. Beetle walked slowly back to the Manuscriptorium. He knew that Marcellus Pye was up to something. But what was it?

  8

  KEEPER’S COTTAGE

  Sarah Heap was fiddling around in the herb garden potting shed when Jenna let herself into the garden from the side gate. From Jenna’s expression Sarah knew what the answer to her question would be, but she asked anyway.

  “Hello, love. Any luck?”

  “No.”

  “Well, it’s so cold. Look at the frogs.”

  “Frogs? What frogs?” Jenna sounded touchy.

  “Exactly—what frogs. They are all hiding in walls, asleep. Their hearts hardly beat at all in the winter, you know. And the Dragon Boat, she’s cold-blooded too, like a frog.”

  Jenna was indignant. “She’s nothing like a frog, Mum.”

  “Well, obviously she doesn’t look like one but—”

  “And anyway, I heard her all through the last Big Freeze and the one before. I’m worried that the Darke Domaine might have seeped into her somehow.” Jenna took out a tiny blue glass bottle. On its small brown label was written: Tx3 Revive. “I’ve had this for so long now and every time I tell Aunt Zelda that we should use it and revive the Dragon Boat properly she makes an excuse. But I am not being put off any longer. I am going to see Aunt Zelda. Right now.” Jenna strode off.

  “Jenna!” Sarah called after her.

  Jenna stopped at the walled gate that led into a covered way to the Palace. “What?”

  Sarah picked her way along the icy gravel path to where Jenna waited impatiently. Unlike Sarah, Jenna liked to get things done as soon as she had thought of them. Sarah put her hand on Jenna’s arm.

  “Aunt Zelda is not quite as . . .” Sarah searched for the right word. “Er, Aunt Zelda-ish as she used to be. She is getting very forgetful—you know she forgot to come to the wedding. She doesn’t always realize she forgets, but it upsets her when she does. Don’t . . . well, don’t expect too much.”

  “But she has to do it, Mum. It is her job as Keeper.”

  Sarah looked at Jenna fondly. “I know. When will you be back, love?”

  “As soon as I can,” Jenna replied. She gave Sarah a quick kiss and ran off along the covered way toward a small door at the foot of the east turret.

  Sarah watched her go. She thought how Jenna had grown up during the past month. She thought how Queenly she looked. Sarah smiled at the idea of her little girl being Queen. It will suit her, she thought. She is ready now.

  Inside the Palace, Jenna ran up the winding turret stairs. She arrived breathless at the top landing and from a pocket deep in her tunic she took a gold key with a large red stone set into its bow. She stepped forward, pushed it into what appeared to be a blank wall and quickly jumped backward. She waited for a few seconds, then walked forward and disappeared through the wall.

  Many miles away, in a stone cottage on an egg-shaped island at the southern edge of the Marram Marshes, Jenna emerged from a tiny cupboard under the stairs.

  “Aunt Zelda,” she called softly. There was no reply. Jenna looked around the room she knew so well. A fire was burning in the hearth, the floor was neatly swept and the potion bottles that lined the walls sparkled with different colors. The room itself was long and low with a flight of stairs going up the middle, below which was the Unstable Potions and Partikular Poisons cupboard from which Jenna had just emerged. Aunt Zelda’s cottage only had two rooms—one upstairs and one downstairs. Jenna did not count the kitchen, which was tacked onto the back and felt more like Sarah Heap’s potting shed than a real room. She walked up the stairs and glanced around the long, low attic room. The beds were made, the room neat and tidy—and completely empty of Aunt Zelda.

  Jenna went back downstairs. “Aunt Zelda?” she called once more, but there was still no reply. She must be out with Wolf Boy, thought Jenna, probably cutting cabbages or making sure there was a hole in the ice for the ducks. She decided to wait for them to come back.

  Jenna wandered around, enjoying just being in the cottage on her own. Aunt Zelda’s cottage was a special place for her. That morning it was alive with light reflected from the snow piled up outside, which, combined with the smell of the woodsmoke and the underlying odor of boiled cabbage, took her right back to the happy weeks that she had once spent in the cottage during a previous Big Freeze. Jenna loved the quiet orderliness of the cottage, the walls lined with books and hundreds of potion bottles, the low rough-hewn beams hung with all manner of interesting things, some that reminded her of Aunt Zelda: bags of shells, gardening hats, bundles of reeds, cabbage cutters, bunches of herbs, and some that announced the fact that the cottage was now Wolf Boy’s home too: a selection of fishing rods, nets and a fine collection of catapults.

  Jenna walked over to the fire and stood warming her hands, careful not to disturb the duck asleep on a cushion by the hearth. A sudden gust of wind brought down a shower of frozen snow from the cottage roof; it clattered against the thick green windowpanes and made her jump. Jenna decided she had had enough of being alone in the cottage—she would go and find Aunt Zelda and Wolf Boy.

  The icy cold shocked Jenna as she stepped outside. She had forgotten how much colder the Marram Marshes were than the Castle, especially when the east wind blew. Today the east wind was blowing hard, sending flurries of ice particles scooting across the top of the snow and a raw chill into her bones.

  She set off along the cleared path, which led down to the plank bridge that crossed the frozen Mott—the large ditch that surrounded Aunt Zelda’s cottage. Jenna stopped and, shielding her eyes against the glare of the snow, she looked around for Aunt Zelda or Wolf Boy. There was no sign of them, nothing except the great expanse of white blurring out in front of her. She turned and looked back at the small stone cottage piled high with snow, which reached up to its low eaves and made the cottage look like an igloo. The warm glow from the fire shone through the windows and Jenna was very tempted to go back inside, but she told herself sternly that the sooner she found Aunt Zelda, the sooner she could get back to the Dragon Boat.

  Jenna knew that on Draggen Island—the island on which Aunt Zelda’s cottage stood—all paths eventually led to a cabbage patch; and a cabbage patch was where she was sure to find Aunt Zelda. Deciding to keep the biting wind behind her, Jenna turned right and began to walk along the path beside the Mott.

  Jenna had forgotten just how much she loved being out on the Marshes. She loved the wide windswept sky that seemed to go on forever, the exhilaration of being alive in the middle of so much wildness, but most of all she loved the quietness. In the summer it was punctuated by the gloops and glugs of unseen Marsh creatures, but in the winter the denizens of the Marsh buried themselves deep in the cold mud. They drifted into a long, slow sleep and the Marshes fell silent. The snows of the Big Freeze brought the thick
est, softest, most perfect silence of all and Jenna reveled in it. She walked slowly, carefully placing her boots upon the snow so that they made no sound, and pulled her cloak up to quiet the soft swish swish it made as it brushed across the snow.

  So, when a heavy thud sounded behind her, Jenna very nearly fell onto the frozen Mott in shock. She spun around and gave a loud shriek. Septimus stood on the path with a just-landed-out-of-nowhere look to him. He was swaying slightly, wreathed in a weird purple glow.

  “Sep!” Jenna gasped. “What . . . I mean . . . where did you . . . how did you?”

  Septimus was speaking but no sound emerged. Only when the last wisp of Magyk evaporated could Jenna hear what Septimus was saying.

  “. . . was a close one, Jen. Really sorry, I didn’t expect anyone to be out here—especially you. What are you doing here?”

  “What am I doing here?” Jenna laughed. “I’m just walking. You know, boring stuff, one foot in front of the other? I’m not suddenly appearing out of nowhere with little purple lights flickering all over me.”

  “Just my job, Jen.” Septimus grinned.

  “Was that one of those Transport things?” Jenna asked.

  Septimus looked a little smug. “Yep, it was one of those Transport things.”

  “All the way from the Castle?” Jenna sounded impressed.

  “Yep. Pretty good, huh?” Happy to be out in the sunshine at long last—and doing something interesting—Septimus linked his arm through Jenna’s and began walking toward the cottage.

  “If you want Aunt Zelda, she’s not there,” said Jenna. “I’ve come out to look for her.”

  “Oh. Well, I do want to see Aunt Zelda, of course I do, but really it’s her flask I want,” said Septimus. “Or rather, that Marcellus wants.”

  “Flask? What flask?”

  Septimus shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen it but Marcellus says she keeps it in a cupboard. One that he built especially for it.”

  “Marcellus built a cupboard for Aunt Zelda?” Jenna was amazed. “She never said.”

  “No, not for Aunt Zelda; he built it for Broda, his wife. You know, she was Keeper when Marcellus was young. I mean when he was first young—in Queen Etheldredda’s time. Your lovely ancestor, Jen,” he teased.

  “I know all about Broda—I met her. And if you’re not careful, Septimus Heap, when I am Queen I will be just like Etheldredda and make all Wizard Apprentices come and weed the Palace garden every Saturday.” Jenna laughed.

  “She didn’t do that, did she?”

  “Yep. It says so in my book.”

  “Ah, your book.” Septimus smiled. He knew all about Jenna’s book, The Queen Rules. Jenna had an annoying habit of quoting passages from it.

  They walked along the Mott path, skirting the mound of snow that covered the remains of the ancient Roman temple where the Dragon Boat had once lain. Septimus stopped a moment and looked at the mound, remembering the first time he had seen the beautiful boat. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” he said quietly.

  Jenna nodded.

  “You still can’t hear her?”

  “No. It can’t go on any longer, Sep. We need to do the Triple properly this time—with the Tx3 Revive I got from Broda. No more excuses. No more ‘when the time is right, dear’ from Aunt Zelda. I’ll need you there, of course.”

  “Just say when and I’ll be there. You know that, Jen.”

  Jenna smiled. “Thanks, Sep. I do.”

  At the far end of the island past the cottage, two figures, dark against the snow, came into view.

  Jenna waved. “Hey! Wolf Boy! Aunt Zelda!”

  The shapes were unmistakable. The large slow triangle was Aunt Zelda and the thin, loping creature topped with a mane was clearly Wolf Boy, helping the triangle up the steep slope to the cottage.

  “Jen,” said Septimus, “does 409—I mean Wolf Boy—does he know?” He still thought of his old friend by his Young Army number: 409. Just as Wolf Boy thought of Septimus by his Young Army number: 412.

  “Know? About the Dragon Boat?”

  “No, Jen—about being a triplet, with Marcus and Matt.”

  Jenna slowed down. With all her worries about the Dragon Boat she had forgotten about Wolf Boy’s lost brothers. “Well, no, I don’t see how he can know. We were going to tell him at Simon’s wedding, weren’t we? Only Aunt Zelda forgot to come.”

  “I thought you might have seen him already,” said Septimus.

  Jenna shook her head. “Nope.”

  “I really want to tell him myself. Do you mind?”

  “Of course I don’t mind, Sep. It’s only right that you tell him.”

  “Thanks.” Septimus remembered the time he had discovered who his family was—it had been on this very island almost four years ago. Now, he could hardly imagine being without his family and with no identity—but 409 still was. Septimus had suggested to Wolf Boy that he go to the Young Army Record Office to see what he could find out, but Wolf Boy had refused. He knew he was alone, he’d said, and he didn’t see the point of finding that out for sure.

  They arrived at the cottage just as Wolf Boy was helping Aunt Zelda inside.

  “Well, look who’s here,” said Aunt Zelda, breaking into a big smile. “How lovely to see you both.” She perused Septimus with a puzzled air. “You look different somehow. It’s . . . well, I don’t know why, but you do, dear.”

  “Oh, it’s my Alchemie Apprentice robes, Aunt Zelda,” explained Septimus.

  “Alchemie Apprentice. Goodness. Is that what you are now?”

  “Only for this month, Aunt Zelda. In fact, only until tomorrow.”

  Aunt Zelda shook her head. Things changed too fast for her nowadays. “Well, come inside, dears, and we’ll have some tea.”

  After what Sarah had said, Jenna was relieved to see that Aunt Zelda seemed to be her normal self as she bustled about. Jenna sat by the fire and listened while Wolf Boy, pleased to have new company after many weeks of solitude with Aunt Zelda, talked nonstop.

  Aunt Zelda brought in buttered toast for Jenna and Wolf Boy and a cabbage sandwich for Septimus, then she settled down beside the fire with her own favorite—a bowl of pureed cabbage leaves and marshberry jam. She regarded her visitors with a happy smile.

  “It is so wonderful to see you,” she said. “What a lovely surprise. Now, tell me all the news.”

  Jenna knew that she should tell Aunt Zelda all about Simon and Lucy’s wedding, but the Dragon Boat had to come first. She took a deep breath. “Aunt Zelda, it’s not good news. I’ve come because I can’t hear the Dragon Boat’s heartbeat anymore.”

  Aunt Zelda paused with a spoonful of purple puree halfway to her mouth. Jenna saw a flash of concern in her blue witch’s eyes. “It can be very faint in the winter, you know, dear. And very slow,” she said.

  “I know,” said Jenna. “I’m used to that. This is the third winter I’ve listened to her. But I have heard nothing for four days now. Nothing.”

  Aunt Zelda put the spoon back in the bowl. “Are you quite sure?”

  “I am absolutely sure.”

  Aunt Zelda put the bowl of puree down on the floor. “Oh, dear,” she murmured to herself. “Oh, deary deary dear.”

  “Aunt Zelda,” Jenna said. “I think she’s dying.”

  Aunt Zelda gave a small moan and put her head in her hands.

  Jenna pressed on. “We must do the real Revive now, with the potion I got from Broda. Please, Aunt Zelda, can you get the bowls for the Triple and come back with me and Sep now—please?”

  Aunt Zelda looked distraught. She heaved herself out of her seat, walked slowly over to the Unstable Potions and Partikular Poisons cupboard and squeezed inside with some difficulty. Jenna glanced anxiously at Wolf Boy.

  “Is Aunt Zelda all right?” she whispered.

  Wolf Boy waggled his hand to and fro in a so-so gesture. “She forgets stuff and loses things. It upsets her, you know?”

  “But she still keeps the cottage really tidy,”
said Septimus, thinking that he had never seen the bookshelves look so organized. “And the potion bottles so sparkly.”

  Wolf Boy grinned. “I’m not a bad housekeeper,” he said. “And I wield a mean duster.”

  Aunt Zelda emerged from the cupboard carrying a very battered ancient wooden box on which was written in old script: THE LAST RESORT. She sat down by the fire and handed it to Wolf Boy. “Here, dear. You’re good at opening things.”

  Wolf Boy slipped the catch and went to give the box back to Aunt Zelda, but she was reluctant to take it. “No, dear. You take the bag out for me.”

  Wolf Boy drew out an old leather pouch.

  “Take out the bowls for me, would you, dear?” asked Aunt Zelda.

  Wolf Boy took out a bowl and balanced it snugly in the palm of his hand. Jenna and Septimus recognized the small hammered-gold bowl with the blue enamel edging that they had last seen when they and Aunt Zelda had performed the Transubstantiate Triple on the gravely injured Dragon Boat.

  Jenna felt relieved. Aunt Zelda’s reluctance to do the Triple had made her wonder whether she had lost the bowls, but all seemed fine.

  Wolf Boy plunged his hand back into the pouch and brought out another bowl identical to the first. “Pretty, aren’t they?” he said, balancing a bowl in each hand.

  “Yes. And there’s one more,” said Jenna.

  Aunt Zelda closed her eyes and began to mutter something under her breath.

  Wolf Boy shook his head. “No more,” he said. “That’s it.”

  “No more?” asked Jenna.

  “No. Sorry. Here, take a look.” Wolf Boy passed the bag across to Jenna. She put her hand inside and felt nothing more than cold, dusty leather. Hoping that maybe the bowl was hiding in some obscure Magykal way, Jenna handed the pouch across to Septimus, who felt inside. He shook his head.

  “Sorry, Jen. No bowl.”

  “Aunt Zelda,” Jenna said gently. “You know there should be three bowls in the bag? Do you know where the other one is?”

  Aunt Zelda sighed. “The Marsh Python ate it,” she said.