by James Nicol
PRAISE FOR THE APPRENTICE WITCH
Full of adventure and excitement, but with real warmth and cosiness.
KATHERINE WOODFINE, AUTHOR OF THE MYSTERY OF THE CLOCKWORK SPARROW
The Apprentice Witch is entirely more charming, adventurous, and full of heart than a book has any right to be. Make no mistake: there’s magic afoot.
TRENTON LEE STEWART, AUTHOR OF THE MYSTERIOUS BENEDICT SOCIETY
A really lovely children’s book.
PETER BUNZL, AUTHOR OF COGHEART
[A] delightful, witty and vivid story . . . I absolutely loved Nicol’s deft characterisation and evocative settings – and it made me laugh out loud in parts!
KIRAN MILLWOOD HARGRAVE, AUTHOR OF THE GIRL OF INK & STARS
A charming tale of magic, bravery and friendship, reminiscent of Diana Wynne Jones.
THE GUARDIAN
[The Apprentice Witch] takes readers on a pleasant trip back to a simpler age . . . full of witches and spells and frightened villagers.
THE NEW YORK TIMES
Nicol’s debut offers a fresh take on the genre . . . Infused with mystery, adventure and bundles of charm.
FIONA NOBLE, THE BOOKSELLER
This is a great adventure story, filled with wonderful spells and mysterious creatures . . . tense and exciting, right until the dramatic climax.
BOOKTRUST
A MESSAGE FROM CHICKEN HOUSE
After James finished The Apprentice Witch, I nagged and nagged (and nagged) him to return to Lull, Arianwyn and her friends (and frenemies) . . . Well, that’s exactly what he’s done in this amazing sequel. Hurrah! If you’re like me, you’ve been raring to find out what happens next. There are nasty surprises, heart-warming moments, new spells and gallons of hot chocolate. Oh, and Bob the moon hare is back! You might have guessed: I’m a huge fan . . .
BARRY CUNNINGHAM
Publisher
Chicken House
Contents
Chapter 1 Breakfast
Chapter 2 A Glimpse of the King
Chapter 3 Royal Pandemonium
Chapter 4 Letters
Chapter 5 The Alhambra
Chapter 6 The High Elder
Chapter 7 The Summoning Spell
Chapter 8 Plan B
Chapter 9 Home to Lull
Chapter 10 Behind with Work
Chapter 11 Mud and Magic
Chapter 12 Hardly a Disaster
Chapter 13 A Talent for Charms
Chapter 14 The Tea Party
Chapter 15 The Mission Begins
Chapter 16 The Hex
Chapter 17 The Feylings
Chapter 18 The River
Chapter 19 Helpless
Chapter 20 Girl-with-Star
Chapter 21 Return to Lull
Chapter 22 Very Light Duties
Chapter 23 The Pangorbak
Chapter 24 The New Glyph
Chapter 25 Always Something . . .
Chapter 26 Happy Birthday
Chapter 27 Shrieking Ritts
Chapter 28 The Telegram
Chapter 29 Firefly Lights
Chapter 30 Black Lightning
Chapter 31 Policy and Protocol
Chapter 32 More Powerful than a Spell
Chapter 33 A Day Off
Chapter 34 Results
Chapter 35 A Delegation
Chapter 36 Estar’s Story
Chapter 37 Two Magics
Chapter 38 Meeting the High Elder
Chapter 39 Reunion
Chapter 40 A New Spell
Glossary of Glyphs
Spirit Creature Glossary
Acknowledgements
Copyright
For Julian, who brings music, laughter and sunshine into my life.
Before setting out as a fully-fledged witch and taking up your new position, wherever that may be, be sure to ask yourself these three key questions:
1. What do you hope to achieve as a witch?
2. What do you have to offer the community you will serve in the months and years ahead of you?
3. How will you build on your strengths and remedy any weaknesses?
As you embark on this new chapter in your career, remember that you are no longer an apprentice. Others will now look to you for advice and guidance and support. Are you ready for the task at hand?
A WITCH ALONE: A MANUAL FOR THE NEWLY QUALIFIED WITCH
Chapter 1
BREAKFAST
he kitchen was littered with the remains of breakfast. Plates and bowls were discarded on the table, eggshells sat cracked and empty in their cups, crusts of toast lay abandoned on plates. The tablecloth was sprinkled with crumbs and smeared here and there with rich orange marmalade, butter or bright raspberry jam. The radio burbled in the background.
Arianwyn took a sip from her cup of tea, looking up from the charm recipe she had been working on to gaze out through the window across the rooftops of Kingsport. Ribbons of smoke snaked high into the bright cool sky. The leaves of a nearby tree were beginning to fade dusty and pale, and the air through the open window had the crisp cool feeling of autumn.
She felt wonderfully relaxed. She really had needed a holiday after all the goings-on back in Lull over the summer.
Salle, her best friend in the whole world, gave a squeal of excitement and thrust a crumpled newspaper into her face. ‘Look! There’s going to be a parade from the palace this afternoon.’ She beamed. ‘Can we go, Wyn? Please?’ she asked, her eyes wide, lashes fluttering.
‘But don’t you have an audition today?’ Arianwyn asked. This would be Salle’s fourth audition since they had arrived a week and a half ago. She had her heart set on becoming a great actress.
‘Oh, I did.’ Salle smiled and glanced away for a moment. ‘But it’s a silly part, boring, hardly any lines – I’d much rather go and see the king, wouldn’t you? Pleeeeease, Arianwyn?’
Arianwyn laughed. ‘I suppose so. We could go to the Museum of Hylund too; it’s just around the corner from the royal palace.’
Salle nodded enthusiastically, stuffing her last piece of toast into her mouth and beaming again. ‘I still need to visit Leighton & Dennison’s to get Aunt Grace a present,’ she said.
It was Salle’s first visit to Kingsport and they had been making the most of it. They’d explored the city on foot and by bus, visited parks, galleries and the harbour market – and, in between, they’d hurried to theatres all over the capital in hopes of Salle finally securing her first part in a proper play, show or review. She really didn’t seem to mind what it was at this point, as long as it was in a real theatre.
From out in the hallway they heard the front door of the apartment open quietly, followed by the clatter of shoes being kicked off in the hall and the sound of keys being dropped into the bowl that stood on the hall table. ‘Girls?’ Arianwyn’s grandmother called. ‘Are you still home?’
‘In here!’ Salle called cheerfully, spraying a few more crumbs across the table. Grandmother appeared at the door. She leant on the frame and yawned.
‘Late meeting?’ Arianwyn asked.
‘Or early, I’m not entirely sure!’ Grandmother replied as she dropped into her armchair next to the kitchen fireplace. She sighed contentedly, stretching her legs out and resting her head back against the seat. ‘I had no idea when I agreed to rejoin the Council of Elders that there would be quite so many meetings.’
‘I guess there’s a lot going on at the moment with the war. Is there still a shortage of trained witches?’ Salle asked.
Grandmother nodded wearily.
The war against the Urisians in the northern Kingdom of Veersland and the increasing magical activity across the Four Kingdoms in the last few years required skilled witches. There just didn’t seem to be enough of them.
‘Well, actually, I think it’s nearly lunchtime. What on earth have you girls been doing all morning? You’re still in your dressing gowns!’ Grandmother chuckled.
‘We’re planning to go and see the parade at the palace and then maybe go to the museum,’ Salle said brightly.
‘That does sound very lovely,’ Grandmother said, closing her eyes for just a moment.
‘Why don’t you come with us?’ Salle asked. ‘Have the day off?’
‘If only.’ Grandmother sighed. ‘But I’ve got reports to read.’ She reached for her bag, which bulged with folders and papers. ‘And I’ve got to meet with some members of the Royal Senate. Why the High Elder asked me, I have no idea, as the last thing I want to be doing is dealing with a load of politicians. I can’t be doing with all their bluster and nonsense.’
‘Perhaps that’s why she asked you then.’ Arianwyn handed her the cup of tea.
Grandmother rolled her eyes and groaned, but she smiled as she settled back into her seat and sipped gently on the tea.
‘We should go and get ready – we don’t want to miss the parade,’ Salle said as she darted out of the kitchen. Arianwyn scooped up some of the breakfast things and carried them to the sink.
‘I can sort those things out for you. Off you go and get ready.’ Grandmother smiled.
Arianwyn skipped to the door and then paused, her hand held on the frame.
‘Everything OK?’ Grandmother asked, the teacup hovering near her lips.
‘I . . .’ The question had been gnawing at the back of Arianwyn’s mind since they arrived in Kingsport. ‘I wanted to know what had happened about the . . .’ She felt a chill just thinking about the night ghast they had encountered in Lull. She didn’t dare to say the words, worried that this most terrible of dark spirits might suddenly appear before them in all its horrifying darkness.
Grandmother sighed and placed the teacup carefully down. ‘The night ghast?’ she said, rising to her feet. She was tall, her long silver hair pinned tidily away. She put her hand on Arianwyn’s shoulder. ‘I keep telling you there’s nothing to worry about. The council has reviewed all the reports. Mine, yours, Mayor Belcher’s, even the Alverston girl’s—’
‘Gimma?’ Arianwyn asked. A name that she also hadn’t dared say for weeks.
Grandmother smiled. ‘That’s all done now, all behind you. You don’t need to be worrying about anything, Arianwyn. You did everything you could. There is no blame.’
Arianwyn smiled, Grandmother’s words soothing the worry. She always knew how to make things right again. Then Salle came barrelling along the hallway, pulling on her jacket and at the same time fixing a hairslide into place. ‘Hurry up, Wyn, or we’ll be late . . . unless you’re planning on going to the royal parade like that?’
Arianwyn smiled and did a quick spin on the spot, flapping her dressing gown around her like a cloak. ‘But I hear it’s all the rage in Highbridge!’ she laughed, her dark thoughts briefly chased away.
Salle and Arianwyn hurried along the pavement. The streets were packed with people waving small paper flags and jostling towards the palace.
‘Hylund flags! Two for a shilling!’ a man called from the street corner. He held a bunch of flags tight in his hand like a bouquet of flowers. ‘Flags, ladies?’ he called as Salle and Arianwyn approached.
‘No thank you!’ Arianwyn called. Salle looked crestfallen. ‘You don’t want to miss the parade, do you?’ Arianwyn asked, dragging Salle along as she gazed forlornly back at the flag-seller.
They turned off the main street and on to a smaller, quieter avenue full of dazzling white High-bridge houses, each identical to the last, finished with clipped hedges and high metal railings, with ebony front doors and gleaming brass handles. ‘We can cut down to the Royal Crescent this way,’ Arianwyn explained, recalling so many trips with her grandmother to look at the palace or visit the nearby parks.
The pavements in Highbridge were spotlessly clean – not even the first few scatterings of autumn leaves littered the paving stones. They passed a pristine nanny pushing a vast pram with huge silver wheels that flashed in the warm afternoon sun.
‘Well, it’s certainly the swankiest bit of Kingsport, isn’t it?’ Salle said, twirling on the spot just as an impeccably dressed woman emerged from her front garden. Salle’s clumsy pirouette forced the lady to dodge aside, almost tumbling into her neatly trimmed hedge. She muttered something under her breath in a biting, crisp Highbridge accent.
‘Sorry!’ Arianwyn offered quickly, but the woman only glared at them both and carried on without another word, a bit of hedge stuck to her bottom.
‘Snob!’ Salle called, with no effort to lower her voice, then imitating the woman’s very stiff upright walk further down the street.
Arianwyn chuckled and ran to catch her up. Just ahead, the avenue widened, the buildings curving off to the left and right, opening on to the Royal Crescent which was already packed with people. As they passed the last house they were swept giggling into the crowd like paper boats on a river.
Chapter 2
A GLIMPSE OF THE KING
rianwyn reached for Salle’s hand as she was pulled forwards by the over-enthusiastic spectators. Her fingers tightened around Salle’s and they held on tight.
‘Blimey – this is mad!’ Salle laughed. ‘I LOVE it!’
They clung to each other and were jostled along with the flow of the crowd, everyone calling and cheering merrily.
‘Don’t let go,’ Arianwyn shouted. ‘Or we’ll never find each other again!’
Salle nodded. They were suddenly and miraculously shoved to the edge of the pavement and the scene of the parade opened wide before them. The Royal Crescent stood at the heart of Kingsport, the actual ‘crescent’ being a huge oval park that had once been a rose garden for the palace but was now a public space full of trees, fountains and brightly coloured flowers. A broad road circled the park. Usually clogged with Kingsport traffic, today it was empty of cars and buses and swept spotlessly clean. The pavements were stuffed full of well-wishers, all kept in place behind strings of bright bunting and a line of soldiers and policemen. It was a sea of fluttering flags, bright camera flashes and smiles.
‘Oh, Wyn, this is amazing!’ Salle beamed.
‘I think we’d get a better view from further up.’ Arianwyn gestured ahead of them.
‘My goodness, that’s the royal palace!’ Salle said, tugging on Arianwyn’s coat and dragging her along. ‘I didn’t know we’d get so close. Aunt Grace would love this.’
Soon, the flowing crowd of people became an immovable wall. ‘Will this do?’ Arianwyn asked. If she stood on tiptoes and wobbled slightly to the right she could just see the broad steps that led up to the palace gates.
Salle smiled.
‘Oh, and here,’ Arianwyn said, reaching into her satchel. ‘I didn’t think we could do without these!’ She pulled out two small Hylund paper flags. She handed one to Salle and gave her own a little wave.
‘Thank you, Wyn!’ Salle grinned in delight and swished her flag this way and that with more enthusiasm than Arianwyn thought physically possible. From the steps of the palace came the blasting sound of trumpets which brought a sudden hush to the crowd. ‘I can see the king!’ Salle squealed, tugging at Arianwyn’s coat sleeve. ‘Look. Look!’
A figure appeared, walking steadily down the steps of the palace, flanked by courtiers in shining top hats and long flapping tailcoats, or elegant dresses and hats that looked like very fancy cakes. The king waved gently, and the crowd responded with a loud cheer that became a roar. There was a small surge forward, and as Arianwyn tried to stay upright she stood on someone’s foot.
‘Oh, my word!’ Salle gaped, her eyes wide. Then in a mock cheery voic
e she said, ‘Goodness, look who it is.’ She nudged Arianwyn hard in the ribs.
‘Sorry,’ Arianwyn said, looking quickly up and coming face to face with Gimma Alverston. ‘Oh, heavens!’
‘Arianwyn?’ Gimma’s perfect blonde hair, impeccably styled, was swept over one shoulder in a tumble of white gold. Her eyes, usually bright blue, looked dull and red-rimmed, and her skin was pale, as though she had been shut up inside for too long. The effect on anyone else would have been awful, but it just seemed to make Gimma more beautiful than ever.
‘Gimma?’ Arianwyn asked, thinking for a moment she was hallucinating. But no. She tugged at the sleeve of her jumble sale dress. It was too short for her long arms, her wrists sticking out inelegantly. Gimma’s was perfect, pristine white – handmade in the best fashion houses in Kingsport, of that you could be certain.
‘What are you doing here?’ Gimma asked, taking the smallest but most definite step away from them.
‘Salle wanted to see the parade,’ Arianwyn explained. Half of Kingsport was here – what an odd question!
‘Exciting, isn’t it?’ Salle said, fixing Gimma with a hard glare and flicked her flag back and forth.
‘If you like that sort of thing,’ Gimma said, stifling a little yawn and studying her hands. She was wearing pink suede gloves, despite the warm afternoon.
‘Well, I think it’s amazing!’ Salle said, undeterred, waving her flag twice as fast. ‘It’s nearly as good as the Flaxsham parade in the summer, don’t you think?’
Gimma’s head snapped around. She glowered at Salle. The Flaxsham witches’ parade had been a massive disaster, thanks to Gimma.
‘Anyway,’ Arianwyn said brightly, trying to change the subject, ‘what brings you here, Gimma?’
‘Oh, my father’s in the parade with some of the Royal Senate.’ Gimma flicked her hand as though she wasn’t really bothered.
Just then, a lady and her small daughter edged their way carefully to the front of the crowd beside Gimma. The daughter was busily eating a bright pink ice cream. The mother smiled at the three girls and then pointed across the wide street. ‘Can you see Papa?’ A soldier nearby blushed and briefly raised a hand in greeting.
