Septimus Heap 3 - Physik (38 page)

Leaving Marcia to tell the unfortunate cleaner where to put his bucket in the future, Septimus took the path around to the back of the Palace while Spit Fyre trotted after him, as if attached by a very short piece of invisible string. After getting lost several times, Marcia finally made it up to the attic. She arrived to the sounds of an argument.

“Look, Gringe. I cannot be held responsible if you are unable to control your Counters. My Kicker would never have Kicked everything off the board.”

“It was your Kicker,” muttered Gringe. “Mine was just goin' about 'is business and then he gets sent flyin' across the room. Dunno where he's gone.”

“Don't know where any of them have gone,” said Silas grumpily, getting down on his hands and knees and peering between the floorboards. “Probably never see them again. Huh. ”

“Silas Heap, what are you doing?” Marcia's voice rang out as she strode down the long, empty attic toward the Counter-Feet players at the far end. Guiltily Silas jumped up and hit his head on a low rafter.

“Ouch!”

At the sight of the ExtraOrdinary Wizard approaching, cloak flying, eyes flashing and a look of fury on her face, Gringe went pale. “We were just about to put the painting back,” he said. “Honest.”

“Honest is not a word I automatically associate with you, Gringe,” snapped Marcia, a trifle unfairly.

“Keep your hair on, Marcia,” said Silas. “We're doing it. I don't see what the fuss is all about anyway.”

“That, Silas Heap, is why you are only an Ordinary Wizard. This room was Sealed for a reason: to keep the ghost of Queen Etheldredda Sealed inside—and her disgusting pet whatever-it-is, which has been running around the Castle biting people and spreading the Sickenesse.”

“Oh, come off it, Marcia,” Silas objected. “You can't blame me for the Sickenesse too.”

“You let it out, Silas. No one else did. Ever since you stupidly UnSealed that portrait it is no coincidence that we have had the Sickenesse, and even worse, we've had Queen Etheldredda let loose.”

“She's only a ghost, Marcia,” Silas protested. “There's no need to get so worked up about it. There are loads of ghosts around here, and some of them are a real pain—much worse than her. I mean, there's that one with the irritating whistle and then there's—”

“Be quiet, Silas. Etheldredda is no ordinary ghost. She is dangerous, Silas. She was Sealed in by her son—her own son, no less—who knew what she was capable of.”

“What do you mean, capable of?” asked Silas, beginning to get a bad feeling about the whole business.

“Murdering her children. Princesses. Rightful heirs to the Castle. And now she is let loose here, in our Time, and she is intent on doing the same.”

“What?” asked Silas. “You don't mean ... Jenna?”

“I mean just that. And now Jenna has returned—”

“Jenna's back!” gasped Silas. “Is she all right?”

“For the moment. She and Septimus are—”

“Septimus. So it's true, they're both safe?” Silas felt as though a weight had been lifted from him. Suddenly he felt far less like arguing with Marcia. “Give us a hand then, Marcia,” he said. “We'll get this picture Sealed up in no time, won't we, Gringe?”

Gringe shrugged. As far as he was concerned, it was just another game of Counter-Feet brought to an untimely end by Silas Heap.

As the portrait moved slowly down the attic, Queen Etheldredda's Royal Barge was Passing Through the anti-Sickenesse blockade below Raven's Rock. The fishermen manning the boats on the blockade shivered as a chill breeze blew through the ships'

rigging and set the ropes eerily humming. Queen Etheldredda sat alone on her ghostly seat—the Aie-Aie was skulking outside the Manuscriptorium, waiting to bite a few soft-skinned scribes as they left work. As the Royal Barge progressed through the blockade and headed upriver to the Palace landing stage, the smile on Queen Etheldredda's thin lips grew wider, for in her hands she cradled Jenna's silver pistol.

And in the silver pistol she had placed Jenna's Named bullet: IP. for Infant Princess.

Up in the attic, Queen Etheldredda's portrait was not going quietly. Silas was sure it had bit him, and Gringe's arms felt like they were being pinched by a large crab as they struggled down the length of the attic toward the UnSealed room. About halfway there Gringe let out a loud yelp and dropped the painting. It landed on Silas's toe, and Marcia finally lost the remaining shreds of her patience.

“Stand back!” she yelled. “I will Send it to the room.”

Silas was aghast. “You can't do that,” he said. “You don't know where it will end up.”

“Don't go telling me my job, Silas Heap,” snapped Marcia. “It will Go where I Send it.”

“Don't bank on it, Marcia,” muttered Silas.

Marcia did not reply. She was already summoning up the Magyk she needed for the Send—and she needed a lot of it. Silas watched the Magykal haze—a flickering, purplish mist—appear around Marcia until it was hard to see where Marcia ended and the attic began. Gringe just watched, open-mouthed, as Marcia, staring intently at the portrait, began to chant slowly,

"Go You where I Send Tarry not until tne End Stay You where I Tell Mark You This and Mark it Well:

Go You to your Room!"

At once Marcia had the horrible feeling she had done something wrong. Alther's wise words came back to her— Be specific, Marcia. Say exactly what you mean—but too late. The Magykal haze enveloped the portrait, as it was meant to. Queen Etheldredda's portrait rose, as it was meant to. Then it hurled itself through the window, as it was most definitively not meant to.

Marcia leaned out the window to see what had happened. She watched the portrait fly through the air and disappear into the wall of the turret—straight into the Queen's Room.

Marcia waited for Silas's scathing comment but it did not materialize. Silas had gone.

A ghostly barge makes no noise and so, as it drew up to the Palace landing stage, Jenna heard nothing. She slept peacefully on, but the duckling woke up. There was something in the air that reminded it of somewhere horrible—somewhere that smelled of oranges.

In a distant Time., Snorri Snorrelssen, no longer alone, sat on Snake Slipway with Nicko Heap and watched the water flow by. As she gazed unfocussed into the Moat, once again Snorri Saw through Ullr's eyes. She Saw the Royal Barge come to rest at the landing stage. She Saw Queen Etheldredda stand up, pistol in hand, and she Saw the winter sun glint off the polished silver of the weapon as Etheldredda raised the pistol and aimed it at the sleeping Jenna.

Even though they were separated by five hundred years of Time, Ullr was still Snorri's cat, and he still did what his mistress asked. Which is why Ullr suddenly sprang to life and hurled himself at the ghost. But this time, Etheldredda, who was more Substantial, fought back and hit the small orange cat a swinging blow with the pistol. Ullr fell to the ground, but not before he had woken Jenna with his screech.

Jenna sat up with a jolt, still full of sleep. She could not make sense of what she saw—Ullr sprawled across the landing stage and a naked duckling running around in circles, cheeping like a tiny alarm clock.

On the lawn by the Palace, Alice had heard Ullr's screech and seen the flash of sun off the silver pistol. “That's odd,” she said to Alther, who was dozing. “There's something going on down on the landing stage.”

Alther opened his eyes and saw what Alice could not see. In a streak of panic, the ghost hurled himself across the lawn toward the river.

“Alther!” said Alice, following at top speed. "Alther, what is it?

As Queen Etheldredda stepped daintily from the Royal Barge, Jenna felt a chill envelop her and, as though doused with a bucket of cold water, her head suddenly cleared. There was a pistol hovering in the air. Her pistol. The one the Hunter had used to hunt her. The one that Aunt Zelda was keeping safe for her. So what was it doing pointing at her? "

Queen Etheldredda raised the silver pistol and took aim at Jenna just as Alther arrived like a whirlwind. “Go!” he yelled to Jenna. He threw himself at Etheldredda, but she Passed Through Alther like a knife through butter. Alther collapsed, poleaxed by the Substantial Spirit's malice.

Jenna hesitated.

Etheldredda pulled the trigger.

There was a loud crack of the pistol shot, Alice Nettles threw herself at Jenna, and the silver bullet found its target.

The bullet went into Alice's heart—and there it stayed. A small silver ball with the letters I.P. scribed into the metal. Alice Nettles—named lona at birth by her mother, Betty Pot—had been brought up by her aunt, Mary Nettles, who had always liked the name Alice. But there is no fooling a silver bullet.

The BoneFyre

There was no hope for Alice. Pale and still, she lay on the landing stage with a peaceful smile on her lips.

Around her knelt Silas and Marcia, who had come running at the sound of the shot, and Alther and Jenna, who held the unconscious Ullr in her arms. Beside Alther lay the silver pistol, which Etheldredda had thrown down in disgust. As Alther gently stroked Alice's hair he began to realize that at last—at long last—he and Alice would be together. He could not help but wonder if Alice had been thinking of that when she had thrown herself in the path of the bullet—and if that was why she looked so peaceful now.

Marcia broke the shocked silence that surrounded Alice. “Jenna,” she said,

"I want you to stay close to me from now on. You are not safe while Etheldredda remains UnSealed. Now where is that wretched dragon? I think for once we may have a use for him."

Jenna nodded. Wishing that Snorri were there to help, she glanced around for any sight of Etheldredda. She saw nothing, but Jenna realized that nothing was exactly what Etheldredda wanted her to see. Warily she got up and laid Ullr on her blankets.

The orange cat stirred, opened his eyes and gazed at Jenna with his faraway, unfocused look.

Jenna scooped up the little duckling, which was shivering, and settled it in between Ullr's paws for warmth. Then she and Marcia went to find Spit Fyre. The dragon was in the kitchen garden gulping down cooking apples with enthusiastic snorting noises.

Septimus had heard the pistol shot, but he had assumed it to be some part of the dragon's digestive process. He was waiting impatiently while Spit Fyre sucked up the last of the windfalls and did not notice Marcia and Jenna's arrival. Neither did he see that right behind Jenna lurked Queen Etheldredda, though if he had looked closely Septimus might have seen a murkiness in the air, for Etheldredda was becoming increasingly Substantial.

But through Ullr's eyes, Snorri Saw Etheldredda stalking Jenna as a tiger stalks its prey.

Marcia marched up to Septimus. “Get that dragon organized, Septimus,” she said.

“We need Fyre—right now.”

“He can't do Fyre,” said Septimus.

“Yes he can,” corrected Jenna.

“No he can't.”

“He can. Look at his eyes. He's got the red ring of Fyre.”

Septimus stood on tiptoe and stared into Spit Fyre's unblinking dragon eyes. Sure enough, the bright green iris was ringed with a thin red circle. “How did he get that?”

Septimus asked suspiciously.

“I had to do the Ignite,” Jenna explained.

“But he's my dragon,” Septimus said, annoyed that he had not been there at such an important time.

“Enough of that,” said Marcia. “It doesn't matter whose dragon he is. Follow me.”

She strode out of the kitchen garden. Spit Fyre, at the sight of his Seek rapidly disappearing, gulped down the last cooking apple, emitted a cider-smelling belch and rushed off after Septimus. He very nearly trampled Queen Etheldredda into the ground, but to Snorri's dismay, she sidestepped the dragon just in time and carried on stalking Jenna.

Etheldredda was not about to give up. She might have missed her chance with the pistol, but she would not be thwarted—from now on she would Follow Jenna wherever she went. She had all the time in the world and her chance would surely come. Jenna only had to step too near the edge of a parapet, stand too close to a running horse, warm her hands beside a blazing fire ... and she, Etheldredda, rightful Queen, would be there— ready.

As Jenna followed Marcia across the Palace lawn, she shivered and rubbed the back of her neck—it felt strangely cold. She glanced behind her but saw nothing.

Marcia stopped in the middle of the lawn between the Palace and the river. “Here will do,” she said. “Septimus, I need Fyre—now.”

“I don't know how,” said Septimus, a little sulkily.

“I'll show you, Sep,” Jenna said, fishing her Navigator Tin from her tunic pocket.

She prised it open and offered Septimus the Ignite. Septimus did not look impressed, but he took the piece of dragon skin and examined it carefully. “Is that all you have to say?' he asked. ”Just Ignite?"

Jenna nodded.

“You sure there's not something missing, Jen?”

Jenna sighed. “Of course I'm sure,” she said, suppressing another shiver. “I did do it, you know.”

Septimus did not look convinced, but he took a deep breath, looked Spit Fyre in his red-ringed eye, and said in a loud voice, “ Ignite! ”

With plenty of fuel—the dragon's fire stomach was still uncomfortably crammed with the Sacred Herd of Sarn—Spit Fyre was only too happy to oblige. Deep in his fire stomach a rumble began; it grew and grew, shaking the ground and filling the air with low, unsettling reverberations as the gases built up until they reached an unbearable pressure—and the fire valve opened. With a rush that shocked Spit Fyre as much as anyone else, the gases shot from the dragon's flared nostrils, hit the air and Ignited into a roaring jet of flame.

Everyone jumped back. Queen Etheldredda rubbed her hands together with glee; she had not expected an opportunity to present itself quite so soon. What could be better than a quick stumble into the path of a dragon's Fyre? No one would be able to save Jenna in time. Not with flames like that. Who would have thought that the interfering Marcia Overstrand would have so thoughtfully provided her with such an early opportunity? Etheldredda hovered, waiting impatiently for Jenna to get just a little closer—just enough for one tiny push...