"And you're not having one either. Come on."

Stanley thought to himself that if Petunia had taken him home he wouldn't have objected to a nice soak in a pan of boiling water. At least it would have warmed him up a bit.

When he did finally stagger to his feet and drag himself up the harbor steps, he knew he had to get warm and find food before he could carry on his journey. And so he followed his nose to a bakery and sneaked inside, where he lay shivering beside the ovens, slowly warming through. A scream from the baker's wife and a hefty swipe with a broom eventually sent him on his way, but not before he had managed to eat most of a jam doughnut and nibble holes through at least three loaves of bread and a custard tart.

Feeling much refreshed, Stanley set about looking for a lift to Marram Marshes. It was not easy. Although most people in the Port did not celebrate the MidWinter Feast Day, many of the inhabitants had taken it as an excuse to eat a big lunch and fall asleep for most of the afternoon. The Port was almost deserted. The cold northerly wind that was bringing in flurries of snow kept anyone off the streets who did not have to be there, and Stanley began to wonder if he was going to find anyone foolish enough to be traveling out to the Marshes.

And then he found Mad Jack and his donkey cart.

Mad Jack lived in a hovel on the edge of Marram Marshes. He made his living by cutting reeds to thatch the roofs of the Port houses. He had just made his last delivery of the day and was on his way home when he saw Stanley hanging about by some rubbish bins, shivering in the chill wind. Mad Jack's spirits rose. He loved rats and longed for the day when someone would send him a message by Message Rat, but it wasn't the message that Mad Jack really longed for—it was the rat.

Mad Jack stopped the donkey cart by the bins. " 'Ere, Ratty, need a lift? Got a nice warm cart goin' to the edge of the Marshes."

Stanley thought he was hearing things. Wishful thinking, Stanley, he told himself sternly. Stop it.

Mad Jack peered down from the cart and smiled his best gap-toothed smile at the rat. "Well, don't be shy, boy. Hop in."

Stanley hesitated only for a moment before he hopped in.

"Come and sit up by me, Ratty." Mad Jack chuckled. " 'Ere, you get this blanket wrapped around ya. Keep them winter chills out yer fur, that will."

Mad Jack wrapped Stanley up in a blanket that smelled strongly of donkey and geed up the cart. The donkey put its long ears back and plodded off through the flurries of snow, taking the route it knew so well back along the causeway to the hovel that it shared with Mad Jack. By the time they arrived, Stanley felt warm again and very grateful to Jack.

" 'Ere we are. 'Ome at last," said Jack cheerfully as he unharnessed the donkey and led the animal inside the hovel. Stanley stayed in the cart, reluctant to leave the warmth of the blanket but knowing that he must.

"Yer welcome to come in and stay a while," Mad Jack offered. "I likes to 'ave a rat around the place. Brightens things up a bit. Bit a company. Know what I mean?"

Stanley very regretfully shook his head. He had a message to deliver, and he was a true professional, even if they had withdrawn his Confidential status.

"Ah, well, I expect yer one a them." Here Mad Jack lowered his voice and looked about him as if to check there was no one listening. "I expect yer one a them Message Rats. I know most folk don't believe in 'em, but I do. Bin a pleasure to meet you." Mad Jack knelt down and offered Stanley his hand to shake, and Stanley could not resist offering Mad Jack his paw in return. Mad Jack took it.

"You is, isn't you? You is a Message Rat," he whispered.

Stanley nodded. The next thing he knew Mad Jack had his right paw in a vicelike grip and had thrown the donkey blanket over him, bundled him up so tightly that he could not even try to struggle and had taken him into the hovel.

There was a loud clang, and Stanley was dropped into a waiting cage. The door was firmly closed and padlocked. Mad Jack giggled, put the key into his pocket and sat back, surveying his captive with delight.

Stanley rattled the bars of the cage in fury. Fury with himself rather than with Mad Jack. How could he have been so stupid? How could he forget his training: A Message Rat always travels undetected. A Message Rat never makes himself known to strangers.

"Ah, Ratty, what good times we'll have," said Mad Jack. "Just you and me, Ratty.

We'll go out cuttin' them reeds together, and if you're good we'll go to the circus when it comes to town and see the clowns. I love them clowns, Ratty. We'll have a good life together. Yes, we will. Oh, yes." He chuckled happily to himself and fetched two withered apples from a sack hanging from the ceiling. He fed one apple to the donkey and then opened his pocketknife and carefully divided the second apple in half, giving the larger half to Stanley, who refused to touch it.

"You'll eat it soon enough, Ratty," said Mad Jack with his mouth full, spraying apple spit all over Stanley. "There ain't no other food comin' your way until this snow stops. An' that'll be a while. The wind's shifted to the north—the Big Freeze is comin' now. Always 'appens round about MidWinter Feast Day. Sure as eggs is eggs, and rats is rats."

Mad Jack cackled to himself at his joke, then he wrapped himself up in the donkey-smelling blanket that had been Stanley's undoing and fell fast asleep.

Stanley kicked the bars of his cage and wondered how thin he would have to get before he could squeeze out.

Stanley sighed. Very thin indeed was the answer.

+> 28

The Big Freeze

The remains of the MidWinter Feast of stewed cabbage, braised eel heads and spicy onions lay abandoned on the table as Aunt Zelda tried to coax some life into the spluttering fire at Keeper's Cottage. The inside of the windows were glazing over with ice, and the temperature in the cottage was plummeting, but still Aunt Zelda could not get the fire going. Bert swallowed her pride and snuggled up to Maxie to keep warm. Everyone else sat wrapped in their quilts, staring at the struggling fire.

"Why don't you let me have a go at that fire, Zelda?" Marcia asked crossly. "I don't see why we have to sit here and freeze when all I have to do is this." Marcia clicked her fingers and the fire blazed up in the grate.

"You know I don't agree with Interfering with the elements, Marcia," said Aunt Zelda sternly. "You Wizards have no respect for Mother Nature."

"Not when Mother Nature is turning my feet into blocks of ice," Marcia grumbled.

"Well, if you wore some sensible boots like I do instead of prancing around in little purple snakey things, your feet would be fine," Aunt Zelda observed.

Marcia ignored her. She sat warming her purple snakey feet by the blazing fire and noted with some satisfaction that Aunt Zelda had made no attempt to return the fire to Mother Nature's spluttering state.

Outside the cottage, the North Wind howled mournfully. The snow flurries from earlier in the day had thickened, and now the wind brought with it a thick, swirling blizzard that blew in over the Marram Marshes and began to cover the land with deep drifts of snow. As the night wore on and Marcia's fire at last began to warm them up, the noise of the wind became muffled by the snowdrifts piling up outside.

Soon the inside of the cottage had become full of a soft, snowy silence.

The fire burned steadily in the grate, and one by one they all followed Maxie's example and fell asleep.

Having successfully buried the cottage up to its roof in snow, the Big Freeze continued its journey. Out over the marshes it traveled, covering the brackish marsh water with a thick white layer of ice, freezing the bogs and quags and sending the marsh creatures burrowing down into the depths of the mires where the frost could not reach. It swept up the river and spread across the land on either side, burying cow barns and cottages and the occasional sheep.

At midnight it arrived at the Castle, where all was prepared.

During the month before the advent of the Big Freeze, the Castle dwellers stockpiled their food, ventured into the Forest and brought back as much wood as they could carry, and spent a fair amount of time knitting and weaving blankets. It was at this time of year that the Northern Traders would arrive, bringing their supplies of heavy wool cloth, thick arctic furs and salted fish, not forgetting the spicy foods that the Wendron Witches loved so much. The Northern Traders had an uncanny instinct for the timing of the Big Freeze, arriving about a month before it was due and leaving just before it set in. The five Traders who had sat in Sally Mullin's cafe on the night of the fire had been the last ones to leave, and so no one in the Castle was at all surprised by the arrival of the Big Freeze. In fact, the general opinion was that it was somewhat late, although the truth was that the last of the Northern Traders had left a little earlier than they had expected, due to unforeseen circumstances.

Silas, as ever, had forgotten that the Big Freeze was due and had found himself marooned in The Hole in the Wall Tavern after a huge snowdrift blocked the entrance. As he had nowhere else to go anyway, he settled down and decided to make the best of things while Alther and a few of the Ancients pursued their task of trying to find Simon.

The black rat in the Rat Office, who was awaiting Stanley's return, found himself marooned at the top of the iced-up East Gate Lookout Tower. The drainpipe had filled with water from a burst pipe and then promptly froze, blocking his way out.

The rats in the Customer Office downstairs left him to it and went home.

The Supreme Custodian was also waiting for Stanley's return. Not only did he want information from the rat—where exactly Marcia Overstrand was—he was also anxiously awaiting the outcome of the message that the rat was to deliver. But nothing happened. From the day the rat was sent, a platoon of fully armed Custodian Guards was posted at the Palace Gate, stamping their frozen feet and staring into the blizzard, waiting for the ExtraOrdinary Wizard to Appear. But Marcia did not return.

The Big Freeze set in. The Supreme Custodian, who had spent many hours boasting to DomDaniel about his brilliant idea of stripping the Message Rat of his Confidential status and sending a false message to Marcia, now did his best to avoid his Master. He spent as much time as he could in the Ladies' Washroom. The Supreme Custodian was not a superstitious man, but he was not a stupid man either, and it had not escaped his notice that any plans he had discussed while he was in the Ladies' Washroom had a habit of working out, though he had no idea why. He also enjoyed the comfort of the small stove, but most of all he relished the opportunity to lurk. The Supreme Custodian loved lurking. He had been one of those small boys who was always listening around a corner to other people's conversations, and consequently he was often able to have a hold over someone and was not afraid to use it to his advantage. It had served him well during his advancement up the ranks of the Custodian Guard and had played a large part in his appointment as Supreme Custodian.

And so, during the Big Freeze, the Supreme Custodian holed up in the washroom, lit the stove and lurked with glee, hiding behind the innocent-seeming door with the faded gold lettering and listening to conversations as people passed by. It was such a pleasure to see the blood drain from their faces as he jumped out and confronted them with whatever insulting comment they had just made about him. It was even more of a pleasure to call the Guard and have them marched straight off to the dungeons, especially if they went in for a bit of pleading. The Supreme Custodian liked a bit of pleading. So far he had had twenty-six people arrested and thrown into the dungeons for making rude comments about him, and it had never crossed his mind even once to wonder why he had yet to hear something nice being said.

But the most interesting project that occupied the Supreme Custodian was Simon Heap. Simon had been brought straight from the chapel to the Ladies' Washroom and chained to a pipe. As Jenna's adopted brother, the Supreme Custodian reckoned he would know where she had gone, and he was looking forward to persuading Simon Heap to tell him.

As the Big Freeze set in and neither the Message Rat nor Marcia returned to the Castle, Simon languished in the Ladies' Washroom, constantly questioned about Jenna's whereabouts. At first he was too terrified to talk, but the Supreme Custodian was a subtle man, and he set about gaining Simon's confidence.

Whenever he had a spare moment, the unpleasant little man would prance into the washroom and prattle on to Simon about his tedious day, and Simon would listen politely, too scared to speak. After a while Simon dared to venture a few comments, and the Supreme Custodian seemed delighted to have a reaction from him, and began to bring him extra food and drink. And so Simon relaxed a little, and it was not long before he found himself confiding his desire to be the next ExtraOrdinary Wizard, and his disappointment with the way that Marcia had fled.

It was not, he told the Supreme Custodian, the kind of thing that he would have done.

The Supreme Custodian listened approvingly. Here at last was a Heap who made some sense. And when he offered Simon the possibility of an Apprenticeship with the new Extra-Ordinary Wizard—"seeing as, and I know this will just remain between you and me, young Simon, the present boy is proving most unsatisfactory, despite our high hopes for him,"—Simon Heap began to see a new future for himself. A future where he might be respected and be able to use his Magykal talent, and not treated merely as "one of those wretched Heaps." So, late one evening, after the Supreme Custodian had sat down companionably beside him and offered him a hot drink, Simon Heap told him what he wanted to know—that Marcia and Jenna had gone to Aunt Zelda's cottage in the Marram Marshes.

"And where exactly would that be, lad?" asked the Supreme Custodian with a sharp smile on his face.

Simon had to confess he did not know exactly.

In a fit of temper the Supreme Custodian stormed out and went to see the Hunter, who listened in silence to the Supreme Custodian ranting on about the stupidity of all Heaps in general and of Simon Heap in particular. "I mean, Gerald— " (For that was the Hunter's name. It was something he liked to keep quiet about, but to his irrita tion the Supreme Custodian used "Gerald" at every possible opportunity.) "—

I mean," said the Supreme Custodian indiginantly as he strode up and down the Hunter's sparsely furnished room in the barracks, waving his arms dramatically in the air, "how can anyone not know exactly where their aunt lives? How, Gerald, can he visit her if he doesn't know exactly where she lives?"

The Supreme Custodian was a dutiful visitor of his numerous aunts, most of whom wished that their nephew did not know exactly where they lived.

But Simon had provided enough information for the Hunter. As soon as the Supreme Custodian had gone, the Hunter set to work with his detailed maps and charts of the Marram Marshes and before long had pinpointed the likely whereabouts of Aunt Zelda's cottage. He was ready once again for the Chase.

And so, with some trepidation, the Hunter went to see DomDaniel.

DomDaniel was skulking at the top of the Wizard Tower, passing the Big Freeze by digging out the old Necromancy books that Alther had locked away in a cupboard and Summoning his library assistants, two short and extremely nasty Magogs. DomDaniel had found the Magogs after he had jumped from the Tower.

Normally they lived far below the earth and consequently bore a close resemblance to huge blind worms with the addition of long, boneless arms. They had no legs but advanced over the ground on a trail of slime with a caterpillar-like movement, and were surprisingly fast when they wanted to be. The Magogs had no hair, were a yellowish-white color and appeared to have no eyes. They did in fact have one small eye that was also yellowish-white; it lay just above the only features in their face, which were two glistening round holes where a nose should be and a mouth slit. The slime they extruded was unpleasantly sticky and foul-smelling although DomDaniel himself found it quite agreeable.

Each Magog would probably have been about four feet tall if you had stretched it out straight; although that was something no one had ever attempted. There were better ways to fill your days, like scratching your nails down a blackboard or eating a bucket of frog spawn. No one ever touched a Magog unless it was by mistake.

Their slime had such a revolting quality to it that just remembering the smell of it was enough to make many people sick on the spot. Magogs hatched underground from larvae left in unsuspecting hibernating animals, such as hedgehogs or dormice. They avoided tortoises as it was hard for the young Magogs to get out of the shells. Once the first rays of the spring sunshine had warmed the earth, the larvae would burst out, consume what was left of the animal and then burrow deeper into the ground until it reached a Magog chamber. DomDaniel had hundreds of Magog chambers around his hideout in the Badlands and always had a steady supply. They made superb Guards; they could deliver a bite that gave most people rapid blood poisoning and saw them off in a few hours, and a scratch from a Magog's claw would become so infected that it could never heal. But their greatest deterrent was how they looked: their bulbous yellowish-white head, apparently blind, and their constantly moving little jaw with its rows of spiked yellow teeth were gruesome and kept most people at bay. The Magogs had arrived just before the Big Freeze. They had terrified the Apprentice out of his wits, which had given DomDaniel some amusement and an excuse to leave the boy shivering out on the landing while he tried, yet again, to learn the Thirteen Times Tables.

The Magogs gave the Hunter a bit of a shock too. As he made it to the top of the spiral stairs and strode past the Apprentice on the landing, deliberately ignoring the boy, the Hunter slipped on the trail of Magog slime that led into DomDaniel's apartment. He just got his balance back in time, but not before he had heard a snigger coming from the Apprentice.

Before long the Apprentice had a little more to snigger about, for at last DomDaniel was shouting at someone other than him. He listened with delight to his Master's angry voice, which traveled extremely well through the heavy purple door.

"No, no, No!" DomDaniel was shouting. "You must think I am completely mad to let you go off again on a Hunt on your own. You are a bumbling fool, and if there was anyone else I could get to do the job, believe me, I would. You will wait until I tell you when to go. And then you will go under my supervision. Don't interrupt!

No! I will not listen. Now get out—or would you like one of my Magogs to assist you?"

The Apprentice watched as the purple door was flung open and the Hunter made a quick exit, skidding over the slime and rattling down the stairs as fast as he could.

After that the Apprentice almost managed to learn his Thirteen Times Tables.

Well, he got up to thirteen times seven, which was his best yet.

Alther, who had been busy mixing up DomDaniel's pairs of socks, heard everything. He blew out the fire and followed the Hunter out of the Tower, where he Caused a huge snowfall to drop from the Great Arch just as the Hunter walked under it. It was hours before anyone bothered to dig the Hunter out, but that was little consolation to Alther. Things were not looking good.

Deep in the frozen Forest, the Wendron Witches set out their traps in the hope of catching an unwary wolverine or two to tide them over the lean time ahead. Then they retired to the communal winter cave in the slate quarry, where they burrowed into their furs, told each other stories and kept a fire burning day and night.

The occupants of the tree house gathered around the woodburning stove in the big hut and steadily ate their way through Galen's stores of nuts and berries. Sally Mullin huddled into a pile of wolverine furs and quietly mourned her cafe while comfort-eating her way through a huge pile of hazel-nuts. Sarah and Galen kept the stove going and talked about herbs and potions through the long cold days.

The four Heap boys made a snow camp down on the Forest floor some distance away from the tree house and took to living wild. They trapped and roasted squirrels and anything else they could find, much to Galen's disapproval, but she said nothing. It kept the boys occupied and out of the tree house, and it also conserved her winter food supplies, which were being rapidly nibbled through by Sally Mullin. Sarah visited the boys every day, and although at first she was worried about them being out on their own in the Forest, she was impressed by the network of igloos they built and noticed that some of the younger Wendron Witches had taken to dropping by with small offerings of food and drink. Soon it became rare for Sarah to find her boys without at least two or three young witches helping them cook a meal or just sitting around the campfire laughing and telling jokes. It surprised Sarah just how much fending for themselves had changed the boys. They all suddenly seemed so grown up, even the youngest, Jo-Jo, who was still only thirteen. After a while Sarah began to feel a bit of an interloper in their camp, but she persisted in visiting them every day, partly to keep an eye on them and partly because she had developed quite a taste for roast squirrel.

+> 29

Pythons and Rats

The. morning after the arrival of the Big Freeze, Nicko opened the front door of the cottage to find a wall of snow before him. He set to work with Aunt Zelda's coal shovel and dug a tunnel about six feet long through the snow and into the bright winter sun. Jenna and Boy 412 came out through the tunnel, blinking in the sunlight.

"It's so bright," said Jenna. She shaded her eyes against the snow, which glinted almost painfully with a sparkling frost.

The Big Freeze had transformed the cottage into an enormous igloo. The marshland that surrounded them had become a wide arctic landscape, all the features changed by the windblown snowdrifts and the long shadows cast by the low winter sun. Maxie completed the picture by bounding out and rolling in the snow until he resembled an overexcited polar bear.

Jenna and Boy 412 helped Nicko dig a path down to the frozen Mott, then they raided Aunt Zelda's large stock of brooms and began the task of sweeping the snow off the ice so that they could skate all around the Mott. Jenna made a start while the two boys threw snowballs at each other. Boy 412 turned out to be a good shot and Nicko ended up looking rather like Maxie.

The ice was already about six inches thick and was as smooth and slippery as glass. A myriad of tiny bubbles was suspended in the frozen water, giving the ice a slightly cloudy appearance, but it was still clear enough to see the frozen strands of grass trapped within it and to see what lay beneath. And what lay beneath Jenna's feet as she swept away the first swathe of snow were the two unblinking yellow eyes of a giant snake, staring straight at her.

"Argh!" screamed Jenna.

"What's that, Jen?" asked Nicko.

"Eyes. Snake eyes. There's a massive snake underneath the ice.

Boy 412 and Nicko came over. "Wow. It's huge," Nicko said.

Jenna knelt down and scraped away some more snow. "Look," she said, "there's its tail. Right by its head. It must stretch all around the Mott."

"It can't," Nicko disagreed.

"It must."

"I suppose there might be more than one."

"Well, there's only one way to find out." Jenna picked up the broom and started sweeping. "Come on, get going," she told the boys. Nicko and Boy 412 reluctantly picked up their brooms and got going.

By the end of the afternoon they had discovered that there was indeed only one snake.

"It must be about a mile long," said Jenna as at last they got back to where they had started. The Marsh Python stared at them grumpily through the ice. It didn't like being looked at, particularly by food. Although the snake preferred goats and lynxes, it regarded anything on legs as food and had occasionally partaken of the odd traveler, if one had been so careless as to fall into a ditch and splash around too much. But generally it avoided the two-legged kind; it found their numerous wrappings indigestible, and it particularly disliked boots.

The Big Freeze set in. Aunt Zelda settled down to wait it out, just as she did every year, and informed the impatient Marcia that there was no chance whatsoever of Silas returning with her KeepSafe now. The Marram Marshes were completely cut off. Marcia would just have to wait for the Big Thaw like everyone else.

But the Big Thaw showed no sign of coming. Every night the north wind brought yet another howling blizzard to pile the drifts even deeper.

The temperatures plummeted and the Boggart was frozen out of his mud patch. He retreated to the hot spring bath hut, where he dozed contentedly in the steam. The Marsh Python lay trapped in the Mott. It made do with eating whatever unwary fish and eels came its way and dreaming of the day it would be free to swallow as many goats as it could manage.

Nicko and Jenna went skating. At first they were happy to circle around the iced-up Mott and irritate the Marsh Python, but after a while they began to venture into the white landscape of the marsh. They would spend hours racing along the frozen ditches, listening to the crackle of the ice beneath them and sometimes to the mournful howl of the wind as it threatened to bring yet another fall of snow. Jenna noticed that all the sounds of the marsh creatures had disappeared. Gone were the busy rustlings of the marsh voles and the quiet splishings of the water snakes. The Quake Ooze Brownies were safely frozen far below the ground and made not a single shriek between them, while the Water Nixies were fast asleep, their suckers frozen to the underside of the ice, waiting for the thaw.

Long, quiet weeks passed at Keeper's Cottage and still the snow blew in from the north. While Jenna and Nicko spent hours outside skating and making ice slides around the Mott, Boy 412 stayed indoors. He still felt chilled if he stayed out for any length of time. It was as if some small part of him had not yet warmed through from the time he had been buried in the snow outside the Wizard Tower.

Sometimes Jenna sat with him beside the fire. She liked Boy 412; although she didn't know why, seeing as he never spoke to her. She didn't take it personally, as Jenna knew he had not uttered a word to anyone since he had arrived at the cottage.

Jenna's main topic of conversation with him was Petroc Trelawney, who Boy 412

had taken a liking to.

Some afternoons Jenna would sit on the sofa beside Boy 412 while he watched her take the pet rock out of her pocket. Jenna would often sit by the fire with Petroc, as he reminded her of Silas. There was something about just holding the pebble that made her sure Silas would come back safely.

"Here, you hold Petroc," Jenna would say, putting the smooth gray pebble into Boy 412's grubby hand.

Petroc Trelawney liked Boy 412. He liked him because he was usually slightly sticky and smelled of food. Petroc Trelawney would stick out his four stumpy legs, open his eyes and lick Boy 412's hand. Mmm, he'd think, not bad. He could definitely taste eel, and was there a hint of cabbage lingering as a subtle aftertaste?

Petroc Trelawney liked eel and would give Boy 412's palm another lick. His tongue was dry and slightly rasping, like a minute cat's tongue, and Boy 412 would laugh. It tickled.

"He likes you." Jenna would smile. "He's never licked my hand."

There were many days when Boy 412 just sat by the fire reading his way through Aunt Zelda's stock of books, immersing himself in a whole new world. Before he came to Keeper's Cottage, Boy 412 had never read a book. He had been taught to read in the Young Army but had only ever been allowed to read long lists of Enemies, Orders of the Day and Battle Plans. But now Aunt Zelda kept him supplied with a happy mixture of adventure stories and Magyk books, which Boy 412 soaked up like a sponge. It was on one of these days, almost six weeks into the Big Freeze, when Jenna and Nicko had decided to see whether they could skate all the way to the Port, that Boy 412 noticed something.

He already knew that every morning, for some reason, Aunt Zelda lit two lanterns and disappeared into the potion cupboard under the stairs. At first Boy 412 had thought nothing of it. After all, it was dark in the potion cupboard and Aunt Zelda had many potions to tend. He knew that the potions that needed to be kept in darkness were the most unstable and required constant attention; only the day before, Aunt Zelda had spent hours filtering a muddied Amazonian Antidote that had gone lumpy in the cold. But what Boy 412 noticed this particular morning was how quiet it was in the potion cupboard, and he knew that Aunt Zelda was not generally a quiet person. Whenever she walked past the Preserve Pots they rattled and jumped, and when she was in the kitchen the pots and pans clanged and banged; so how, wondered Boy 412, did she manage to be so quiet in the small confines of the potion cupboard? And why did she need two lanterns?

He put down his book and tiptoed over to the potion cupboard door. It was strangely silent considering it contained Aunt Zelda in close proximity to hundreds of little clinky bottles. Boy 412 knocked hesitantly on the door. There was no reply. He listened again. Silence. Boy 412 knew he should really just go back to his book but somehow Thaumaturgy and Sortilage: Why Bother? was not as interesting as what Aunt Zelda was up to. So Boy 412 pushed open the door and peered in. The potion cupboard was empty.

For a moment, Boy 412 was half afraid that it was a joke and Aunt Zelda was going to jump out at him, but he soon realized that she was definitely not there.

And then he saw why. The trapdoor was open, and the musty damp smell of the tunnel that Boy 412 remembered so well drifted up to him. Boy 412 hovered at the door, uncertain of what to do. It crossed his mind that Aunt Zelda might have fallen through the trapdoor by mistake and needed help, but he realized that if she had fallen, she would have got wedged halfway, as Aunt Zelda looked a good deal wider than the trapdoor did.

As he was wondering how Aunt Zelda had managed to squeeze herself through the trapdoor, Boy 412 saw the dim yellow glow of a lantern shining up through the open space in the floor. Soon he heard the heavy tread of Aunt Zelda's sensible boots on the sandy floor of the tunnel and her laborious breathing as she struggled up the steep incline toward the wooden ladder. As Aunt Zelda started to heave herself up the ladder, Boy 412 silently closed the cupboard door and scuttled back to his seat by the fire.

It was quite a few minutes later when an out-of-breath Aunt Zelda poked her head out of the potion cupboard a little suspiciously and saw Boy 412 reading Thaumaturgy and Sortilage: Why Bother? with avid interest.

Before Aunt Zelda had time to disappear back into the cupboard, the front door burst open. Nicko appeared with Jenna closely following. They threw down their skates and held up what looked like a dead rat. "Look what we found," said Jenna.

Boy 412 pulled a face. He didn't like rats. He'd had to live with too many of them to enjoy their company.

"Leave it outside," said Aunt Zelda. "It's bad luck to bring a dead thing across the threshold unless you're going to eat it. And I don't fancy eating that."

"It's not dead, Aunt Zelda," said Jenna. "Look." She held out the brown streak of fur for Aunt Zelda to inspect. Aunt Zelda poked at it warily.

"We found it outside that old shack," said Jenna. "You know the one, not far from the Port at the end of the marsh. There's a man there who lives with a donkey. And a lot of dead rats in cages. We looked through the window—it was horrible. And then he woke up and saw us, so me and Nicko went to run off and we saw this rat.

I think he'd just escaped. So I picked him up and put him in my jacket and we ran for it. Well, skated for it. And the old man came out and yelled at us for taking his rat. But he couldn't catch us, could he, Nicko?"

"No," said Nicko, a man of few words.

"Anyway, I think it's the Message Rat with a message from Dad," said Jenna.

" Never! " said Aunt Z,elda. "That Message Rat was fat."

The rat in Jenna's hands let out a weak squeak of protest.

"And this one," said Aunt Zelda, poking the rat in the ribs, "is as thin as a rake.

Well, I suppose you had better bring it in whatever kind of rat it may be."

And that is how Stanley finally reached his destination, nearly six weeks after he had been sent out from the Rat Office. Like all good Message Rats he had lived up to the Rat Office slogan: Nothing stops a Message Rat.

But Stanley was not strong enough to deliver his message. He lay feebly on a cushion in front of the fire while Jenna fed him pureed eel. The rat had never been a great fan of eel, particularly the pureed variety, but after six weeks in a cage drinking only water and eating nothing at all, even pureed eel tasted wonderful.

And lying on a cushion in front of a fire instead of shivering at the bottom of a filthy cage was even more wonderful. Even if Bert did sneak in the odd peck when no one was looking.

Marcia did the Speeke, Rattus Rattus command after Jenna insisted on it, but Stanley uttered not a word as he lay weakly on his cushion.

"I'm still not convinced it's the Message Rat," said Marcia a few days after Stanley had arrived and the rat had still not spoken. "That Message Rat did nothing but talk, if I remember rightly. And a load of drivel most of it was too."

Stanley gave Marcia his best frown, but it passed her by.

"It is him, Marcia," Jenna assured her. "I've kept loads of rats and I'm good at recognizing them. This one is definitely the Message Rat that we had before."

And so they all waited nervously for Stanley to recover enough to Speeke and deliver Silas's longed-for message. It was an anxious time. The rat developed a fever and became delirious, mumbling incoherently for hours on end and almost driving Marcia to distraction. Aunt Zelda made up copious amounts of willow bark infusions that Jenna patiently fed to the rat through a small dropper. After a long and fretful week, the rat's fever at last abated.

Late one afternoon, when Aunt Zelda was locked in the potion cupboard (she had taken to locking the door after the day Boy 412 had peeked inside) and Marcia was working out some mathematical spells at Aunt Zelda's desk, Stanley gave a cough and sat up. Maxie barked and Bert hissed with surprise, but the Message Rat ignored them.

He had a message to deliver.

+> 30

Message for Marcia

Stanley soon had an expectant audience gathered around him. He hobbled stiffly off the cushion, stood up and took a deep breath. Then he said in a shaky voice,

"First I must ask. Is there anyone here answering to the name of Marcia Overstrand?"

"You know there is," said Marcia impatiently.

"I still have to ask, Your Honor. Part of the procedure," said the Message Rat. He continued. "I am come here to deliver a message to Marcia Overstrand, ex-ExtraOrdinary Wizard—"

"What?" gasped Marcia. " Ex? What does that idiot rat mean, ex-ExtraOrdinary Wizard?"

"Calm down, Marcia," said Aunt Zelda. "Wait and see what he has to say."

Stanley carried on, "The message is sent at seven o'clock in the morning..." The rat paused to work out just how many days ago it had been sent. As a true professional, Stanley had kept a record of his time imprisoned in the cage by scratching a line for each day on one of the bars. He knew he had done thirty-nine days with Mad Jack, but he had no idea how many days he had spent delirious in front of the fire in Keeper's Cottage, "...er ... a long time ago, by proxy, from one Silas Heap residing in the Castle—"

"What's proxy mean?" asked Nicko.

Stanley tapped his foot impatiently. He didn't like interruptions, especially when the message was so old that he was afraid he may not remember it. He coughed impatiently.

"Message begins:

Dear Marcia,

I hope you are keeping well. I am well and am at the Castle. I would be grateful if you would meet me outside the Palace as soon as possible. There has been a development. I will be at the Palace Gate at midnight, every night, until your arrival.

Looking forward to seeing you,

With best wishes,

Silas Heap

"Message ends."

Stanley sat back down on his cushion and breathed a sigh of relief. Job done. He may have taken the longest time a Message Rat had ever taken to deliver a message, but he'd done it. He allowed himself a small smile even though he was still on duty.

There was silence for a moment, and then Marcia exploded. "Typical, just typical!

He doesn't even make an effort to get back before the Big Freeze, then, when he finally does get around to sending a message, he doesn't bother to even mention my KeepSafe. I give up. I should have gone myself."

"But what about Simon?" asked Jenna anxiously. "And why hasn't Dad sent a message to us too?"

"Doesn't sound much like Dad anyway," grunted Nicko.

"No," agreed Marcia. "It was far too polite."

"Well, I suppose it was by proxy," said Aunt Zelda uncertainly.

"What does proxy mean?" Nicko asked again.

"It means a stand-in. Someone else gave the message to the Rat Office. Silas must have been unable to get there. Which is to be expected, I suppose. I wonder who the proxy was?"

Stanley said nothing, even though he knew perfectly well that the proxy was the Supreme Custodian. Although no longer a Confidential Rat, he was still bound by the Rat Office code. And that meant all conversations within the Rat Office were Highly Confidential. But the Message Rat felt awkward. These Wizard people had rescued him, looked after him and probably saved his life. Stanley shifted about and looked at the floor. Something was going on, he thought, and he didn't want to be part of it. This whole message had been a complete nightmare from start to finish.

Marcia walked over to the desk and slammed her book shut with a bang.

"How dare Silas ignore something as important as my KeepSafe?" she said angrily. "Does he not know that the whole point of an Ordinary Wizard is to serve the ExtraOrdinary Wizard? I will not put up with his insubordinate attitude any longer. I intend to find him and give him a piece of my mind."

"Marcia, is that wise?" asked Aunt Zelda quietly.

"I am still the ExtraOrdinary Wizard and I will not be kept away," Marcia declared.

"Well, I suggest you sleep on it," said Aunt Zelda sensibly. "Things always look better in the morning."

Later that night, Boy 412 lay in the flickering light of the fire, listening to Nicko's snuffles and Jenna's regular breathing. He had been woken up by Maxie's loud snores, which resonated through the ceiling. Maxie was meant to sleep downstairs but he still sneaked up to lie on Silas's bed if he thought he could get away with it.

In fact, when Maxie started snoring downstairs, Boy 412 often gave the wolfhound a shove and helped him on his way. But that night Boy 412 realized that he was listening to something else apart from the snores of a wolfhound with sinus trouble.

Creaking floorboards above his head ... stealthy footsteps on the stairs ... the squeak of the second-to-last creaky step ... Who was that? What was that? All the ghost stories that he had ever been told came back to Boy 412 as he heard the quiet swish of a cloak along the stone floor and knew that whoever, or whatever, it was had entered the same room.

Boy 412 sat up very slowly, his heart beating fast, and stared into the gloom. A dark figure was moving stealthily toward the book that Marcia had left on the desk.

The figure picked up the book and tucked it into its cloak, then she saw the whites of Boy 412's eyes staring at her out of the darkness.

"It's me," whispered Marcia. She beckoned Boy 412 over to her. He slipped silently out of his quilt and padded across the stone floor to see what she wanted.

"How anyone is expected to sleep in the same room as that animal I do not understand," Marcia whispered crossly. Boy 412 smiled sheepishly. He didn't say that it was he who had pushed Maxie up the stairs in the first place.

"I'm Returning tonight," said Marcia. "I'm going to use the Midnight Minutes, just to make sure of things. You should remember that, the minutes on either side of midnight are the best time to Travel safely. Especially if there are those abroad who may wish you harm. Which I suspect there are. I shall make for the Palace Gate and sort that Silas Heap out. Now, what's the time?"

Marcia pulled out her timepiece. "Two minutes to midnight. I will be back soon.

Perhaps you could tell Zelda." Marcia looked at Boy 412 and remembered that he hadn't uttered a word since he had told them his rank and number in the Wizard Tower. "Oh, well, it doesn't matter if you don't. She'll guess where I've gone."

Boy 412 suddenly thought of something important. He fumbled in the pocket of his sweater and drew out the Charm that Marcia had given him when she had asked him to be her Apprentice. He held the tiny pair of silver wings in his palm and looked at them a little regretfully. They glinted silver and gold in the Magykal glow that was beginning to surround Marcia. Boy 412 offered the Charm back to Marcia—he thought he should no longer have it, since there was no way he was ever going to be her Apprentice—but Marcia shook her head and knelt down beside him.

"No," she whispered. "I still hope you will change your mind and decide to be my Apprentice. Think about it while I'm away. Now, it's one minute to midnight.

Stand back."

The air around Marcia grew cold, and a shiver of strong Magyk swept around her and filled the air with an electric charge. Boy 412 retreated to the fireside, a little scared but fascinated too. Marcia closed her eyes and started to mutter something long and complicated in a language he had never heard before, and as he watched, Boy 412 saw the same Magykal haze appear that he had first seen when he was sitting in Muriel in the Deppen Ditch. Suddenly Marcia threw her cloak over herself so that she was covered from head to toe, and as she did so, the purple of the Magyk haze and the purple of the cloak mixed together. There was a loud hiss, like water dropping onto hot metal, and Marcia disappeared, leaving only a faint shadow that lingered for a few moments.

At the Palace Gate, at twenty minutes past midnight, a platoon of Guards was on duty, just as it had been every night for the past fifty bitterly cold nights. The Guards were frozen and were expecting yet another long boring night doing nothing but stamping their feet and humoring the Supreme Custodian, who had some strange idea that the ex-ExtraOrdinary Wizard was going to turn up right there. Just like that. Of course she never had, and they didn't expect her to either.

But still, every night he sent them out to wait and get their toes frozen into blocks of ice.

So when a faint purple shadow began to emerge in their midst, none of the Guards really believed what was happening.

"It's her," one of them whispered, half afraid of the Magyk that suddenly swirled in the air and sent uncomfortable charges of electricity through their black metal helmets. The Guards unsheathed their swords and watched as the hazy shadow composed itself into a tall figure wrapped in the purple cloak of an ExtraOrdinary Wizard.

Marcia Overstrand had Appeared right in the middle of the Supreme Custodian's trap. She was taken by surprise, and without her KeepSafe and the protection of the Midnight Minutes—for Marcia was twenty minutes late—she was not able to stop the Captain of the Guard from ripping the Akhu Amulet from her neck.

Ten minutes later Marcia was lying at the bottom of Dungeon Number One, which was a deep, dark chimney buried in the foundations of the Castle. Marcia lay stunned, trapped in the middle of a Vortex of Shadows and Shades that DomDaniel had, with great pleasure, set up especially for her. That night was the worst night of Marcia's life. She lay helpless in a pool of foul water, resting on a pile of bones of the dungeon's previous occupants, tormented by the moaning and the screaming of the Shadows and Shades that whirled around her and drained her Magykal powers. It was not until the next morning—when, luckily, an Ancient ghost got lost and happened to pass through the wall of Dungeon Number One—

that anyone apart from DomDaniel and the Supreme Custodian knew where she was.

The Ancient brought Alther to her, but there was nothing he could do except sit by her and encourage her to stay alive. Alther needed all his powers of persuasion, for Marcia was in despair. In a fit of temper with Silas she knew she had lost everything that Alther had fought for when he deposed DomDaniel. For once again DomDaniel had the Akhu Amulet tied around his fat neck, and it was he, not Marcia Overstrand, who truly was now the ExtraOrdinary Wizard.

+> 31

The Rat's Return

Aunt Zelda did not possess a timepiece or a clock. Timepieces never worked properly at Keeper's Cottage; there was too much Disturbance under the ground.

Unfortunately, this was something that Aunt Zelda had never bothered to mention to Marcia as she herself was not too concerned with the exact time of day. If Aunt Zelda wanted to know the time, she would content herself with looking at the sundial and hoping that the sun was out, but she was much more concerned with the passing of the phases of the moon. The day the Message Rat was rescued, Aunt Zelda had taken Jenna for a walk around the island after it got dark. The snow was as deep as ever and had such a crisp covering of frost that Jenna was able to run lightly across the top, although Aunt Zelda in her big boots sank right down. They had walked along to the end of the island, away from the lights of the cottage, and Aunt Zelda had pointed up at the dark night sky, which was brushed with hundreds of thousands of brilliant stars, more than Jenna had ever seen before.

"Tonight," Aunt Zelda had said, "is the Dark of the Moon."

Jenna shivered. Not from the cold but from a strange feeling she got, standing out on the island in the middle of such an expanse of stars and darkness.

"Tonight, however hard you look, you will not see the moon," said Aunt Zelda.

"No one on earth will see the moon tonight. It is not a night to venture out alone on the marsh, and if all the marsh creatures and spirits weren't safely frozen below the ground, we would be CharmLocked into the cottage by now. But I thought you would like to see the stars without the light of the moon. Your mother always liked looking at the stars."

Jenna gulped. "My mother? You mean, my mother when I was born?"

"Yes," said Aunt Zelda. "I mean the Queen. She loved the stars. I thought you might too."

"I do," breathed Jenna. "I always used to count them from my window at home if I couldn't get to sleep. But—how did you know my mother?"

"I used to see her every year," said Aunt Zelda. "Until she ... well, until things changed. And her mother, your lovely grandmother, I saw her every year too."

Mother, grandmother ... Jenna began to realize she had a whole family that she knew nothing about. But somehow Aunt Zelda did.

"Aunt Zelda," said Jenna slowly, daring at last to ask a question that had been bothering her ever since she had learned who she really was.

"Hmm?" Aunt Zelda was gazing out across the marsh.

"What about my father?"

"Your father? Ah, he was from the Far Countries. He left before you were born."

"He left?"

"He had a boat. He went off to get something or other," said Aunt Zelda vaguely.

"He arrived back at the Port just after you were born with a ship full of treasures for you and your mother, so I heard. But when he was told the terrible news, he sailed away on the next tide."

"What—what was his name?" asked Jenna.

"No idea," said Aunt Zelda who, along with most people, had paid little attention to the identity of the Queen's consort. The Succession was passed from mother to daughter, leaving the men in the family to live their lives as they pleased.

Something in Aunt Zelda's voice caught Jenna's attention, and she turned away from the stars to look at her. Jenna caught her breath. She had never really noticed Aunt Zelda's eyes before, but now the bright piercing blue of the White Witch's eyes was cutting through the night, shining through the darkness and staring intently out at the marsh.

"Right," said Aunt Zelda suddenly, "time to go inside."

"But—"

"I'll tell you more in the summer. That's when they used to come, MidSummer Day. I'll take you there too."

"Where?" asked Jenna. "Take me where?"

"Come on," said Aunt Zelda. "I don't like the look of that shadow over there..."

Aunt Zelda grabbed Jenna's hand and ran back with her across the snow. Out on the marsh a ravenous Marsh Lynx stopped stalking and turned away. It was too weak now to give chase; had it been a few days earlier, it could have eaten well and seen the winter through. But now the Lynx slunk back to its snow hole and weakly chewed at its last frozen mouse.

After the Dark of the Moon, the first thin sliver of the new moon appeared in the sky. Each night it grew a little bigger. The skies were clear now that the snow had stopped falling, and every night Jenna watched the moon from the window, while the Shield Bugs moved dreamily in the Preserve Pots, waiting for their moment of freedom.

"Keep watching," Aunt Zelda told her. "As the moon grows it draws up the things from the ground. And the cottage draws in the people that wish to come here. The pull is strongest at the full moon, which is when you came."

But when the moon was a quarter full, Marcia had left.

"How come Marcia's gone?" Jenna asked Aunt Zelda the morning they discovered her departure. "I thought things came back when the moon was growing, not went away."

Aunt Zelda looked somewhat grumpy at Jenna's question. She was annoyed with Marcia for going so suddenly, and she didn't like anyone messing up her moon theories either. "Sometimes," Aunt Zelda said mysteriously, "things must leave in order to return." She stomped off into her potion cupboard and firmly locked the door behind her.

Nicko made a sympathetic face at Jenna and waved her pair of skates at her. "Race you to Big Bog." He grinned.

"Last one there's a dead rat." Jenna laughed.

Stanley woke up with a start at the words "dead rat" and opened his eyes just in time to see Nicko and Jenna grab their skates and disappear for the day.

By the time the full moon arrived and Marcia had still not returned, everyone was very worried.

"I told Marcia to sleep on it," said Aunt Zelda, "but oh, no, she gets herself all worked up over Silas and just ups and goes in the middle of the night. Not a word since. It really is too bad. I can understand Silas not getting back, what with the Big Freeze, but not Marcia."

"She might come back tonight," ventured Jenna, "seeing as it's the full moon."

"She might," said Aunt Zelda, "or she might not."

Marcia, of course, did not return that night. She spent it as she had spent the last ten nights, in the middle of the Vortex of Shadows and Shades, lying weakly in the pool of filthy water at the bottom of Dungeon Number One. Sitting next to her was Alther Mella, using all the ghostly Magyk he could to help keep Marcia alive.

People rarely survived the actual fall into Dungeon Number One, and if they did, they did not last long, but soon sank below the foul water to join the bones that lay just beneath the surface. Without Alther, there is no doubt that the same fate would have befallen Marcia eventually.

That night, the night of the full moon, as the sun set and the moon rose in the sky, Jenna and Aunt Zelda wrapped themselves up in some quilts and kept watch at the window for Marcia. Jenna soon fell asleep, but Aunt Zelda kept watch all night until the rising of the sun and the setting of the full moon put an end to any faint hopes she may have had of Marcia returning.

The next day, the Message Rat decided he was strong enough to leave. There was a limit to how much pureed eel even a rat could stomach, and Stanley thought he had well and truly reached that limit.

However, before Stanley could leave, he either had to be commanded with another message or released with no message. So that morning he coughed a polite cough and said, "Excuse me, all." Everyone looked at the rat. He had been very quiet while he was recovering, and they were unused to hearing him speak. "It is time I returned to the Rat Office. I am already somewhat overdue. But I must ask, Do you require me to take a message?"

"Dad!" saidjenna. "Take one to Dad!"

"Who might Dad be?" asked the rat. "And where is he to be found?"

"We don't know," said Aunt Zelda snappily. "There is no message, thank you, Message Rat. You are released."

Stanley bowed, very much relieved. "Thank you, Madam," he said. "And, ahem, thank you for your kindness. All of you. I am very grateful."

They all watched the rat run off over the snow, leaving small footprints and tailprints behind him.

"I wish we had sent a message," said Jenna wistfully.

"Best not," Aunt Zelda said. "There's something not quite right about that rat.

Something different from last time."

"Well, he was a lot thinner," Nicko pointed out.

"Hmm," murmured Aunt Zelda. "Something's up. I can feel it."

Stanley had a good trip back to the Castle. It wasn't until he reached the Rat Office that things started to go wrong. He scampered up the recently defrosted drainpipe and knocked on the Rat Office door.

"Come in!" barked the black rat, only just back on duty after a belated rescue from the frozen Rat Office.

Stanley sidled in, well aware that he was going to have some explaining to do.

"You!" thundered the black rat. "At last. How dare you make a fool of me. Are you aware how long you have been away?" *

"Er ... two months," muttered Stanley. He was only too well aware how long he had been away and was beginning to wonder what Dawnie would have to say about it.

"Er ... two months, sir!" yelled the black rat, thumping his tail on the desk in anger.

"Are you aware just how stupid you have made me look?"

Stanley said nothing, thinking that at least some good had come out of his ghastly trip.

"You will pay for this," bellowed the black rat. "I will personally see that you never get another job as long as I am in charge here."

"But—"

"But, sir!" the black rat screamed. "What did I tell you? Call me sir!"

Stanley was silent. There were many things he could think of calling the black rat, but "sir" was not one of them. Suddenly Stanley was aware of something behind him. He wheeled around to find himself staring at the largest pair of muscle-bound rats he had ever seen. They stood threateningly in the Rat Office doorway, cutting out the light and also any chance that Stanley might have had of making a run for it, which he suddenly felt an overpowering urge to do. The black rat, however, looked pleased to see them. "Ah, good. The boys have arrived. Take him away, boys."

"Where?" squeaked Stanley. "Where are you taking me?"

"Where ... are ... you . . . taking ... me ... sir," said the black rat through gritted teeth. "To the proxy who sent this message in the first place. He wishes to know where exactly you found the recipient. And as you are no longer a Confidential, you will of course have to tell him. "Take him to the Supreme Custodian."

+> 32

The Big Thaw

The day after the Message Rat left, the Big Thaw set in. It happened first in the Marram Marshes, which were always a little warmer than anywhere else, and then it spread up the river, through the Forest and into the Castle. It was a great relief to everyone in the Castle, as they had been running out of food supplies due to the Custodian Army having looted many of the winter storerooms to provide DomDaniel with the ingredients for his frequent banquets.

The Big Thaw also came as a relief to a certain Message Rat who was shivering glumly in a rat trap underneath the floor of the Ladies' Washroom. Stanley had been left there on account of his refusal to divulge the whereabouts of Aunt Zelda's cottage. He was not to know that the Hunter had already successfully worked it out from what Simon Heap had told the Supreme Custodian, neither was he to know that no one had any intention of setting him free, although Stanley had been around long enough to guess as much. The Message Rat kept himself going as best he could: he ate what he could catch, mainly spiders and cockroaches; he licked the drips from the thawing drain; and he found himself thinking almost fondly about Mad Jack. Dawnie, meanwhile, had given up on him and gone to live with her sister.

The Marram Marshes were now awash with water from the rapidly thawing snow.

Soon the green of the grass began to show through, and the ground became heavy and wet. The ice in the Mott and the ditches was the last to thaw, but as the Marsh Python began to feel the temperature rise, he started to move about, flicking his tail impatiently and flexing his hundreds of stiffened ribs. Everyone at the cottage was waiting with bated breath for the giant snake to break free. They were not sure how hungry he might be, or how cross. To make sure that Maxie stayed inside, Nicko had tied the wolfhound to the table leg with a thick piece of rope. He was pretty sure that fresh wolfhound would be top of the menu for the Marsh Python once he was released from his icy prison.

It happened the third afternoon of the Big Thaw. Suddenly there was a loud crack!

and the ice above the Marsh Python's powerful head shattered and sprayed up into the air. The snake reared up, and Jenna, who was the only one around, took refuge behind the chicken boat. The Marsh Python cast a glance in her direction but did not fancy chewing its way through her heavy boots, so it set off rather painfully and slowly around the Mott until it found the way out. It was then that it ran into a spot of bother: the giant snake had seized up. It was stuck in a circle. When it tried to bend in the other direction nothing seemed to work. All it could do was swim around and around the Mott. Every time it tried to turn off into the ditch that would lead it out into the marsh, its muscles refused to work.

For days the snake was forced to lie in the Mott, snapping at fish and glaring angrily at anyone who came near. Which no one did after it had flicked its long forked tongue out at Boy 412 and sent him flying. At last, one morning the early spring sun came out and warmed the snake up just enough for its stiffened muscles to relax. Creaking like a rusty gate, it swam off painfully in search of a few goats, and slowly over the next few days it almost straightened out. But not completely.

To the end of its days, the Marsh Python had a tendency to swim to the right.

When the Big Thaw reached the Castle, DomDaniel took his two Magogs upriver to Bleak Creek where, in the dead of night, the three beings crossed a narrow mildewed gangplank and boarded his Darke ship, The Vengeance. There they waited some days until the high spring tide that DomDaniel needed to get his ship out of the creek floated them free.

The morning of the Big Thaw, the Supreme Custodian called a meeting of the Council of the Custodians, unaware that the day before he had forgotten to lock the door to the Ladies' Washroom. Simon was no longer chained to a pipe, for the Supreme Custodian had begun to see him more as a companion than a hostage, and Simon sat and waited patiently for his usual midmorning visit from him. Simon liked hearing the gossip about DomDaniel's unreasonable demands and temper tantrums and felt disappointed when the Supreme Custodian did not return at the normal time. He was not to know that the Supreme Custodian, who recently had become somewhat bored with Simon Heap's company, was at that moment gleefully plotting what DomDaniel called "Operation Compost Heap," which included the disposal of not only Jenna but the entire Heap family, including Simon.

After a while, more out of boredom than a desire to escape, Simon tried the door.

To his amazement it opened, and he found himself staring into an empty corridor.

Simon leaped back inside the washroom and slammed the door shut in a panic.

What should he do? Should he escape? Did he want to escape?

He leaned against the door and thought things over. The only reason for staying was the Supreme Custodian's vague offer of becoming DomDaniel's Apprentice.

But it had not been repeated. And Simon Heap had learned a lot from the Supreme Custodian in those six weeks he had spent in the Ladies' Washroom. At the top of the list was not to trust anything the Supreme Custodian said. Next on the list was to look after Number One. And, from now on, Number One in Simon Heap's life was definitely Simon Heap.

Simon opened the door again. The corridor was still deserted. He made his decision and strode out of the washroom.

Silas was wandering mournfully along Wizard Way, gazing up into the grubby windows above the shops and offices that lined the Way, wondering if Simon might be held prisoner somewhere in the dark recesses behind them. A platoon of Guards marched briskly past, and Silas shrank back into a doorway, clutching Marcia's KeepSafe, hoping it still worked.

"Psst," hissed Alther.

"What?" Silas jumped in surprise. He hadn't seen much of Alther recently, as the ghost was spending most of his time with Marcia in Dungeon Number One.

"How's Marcia today?" Silas whispered.

"She's been better," said Alther grimly.

"I really think we should let Zelda know," said Silas.

"Take my advice, Silas, and don't go near that Rat Office. It's been taken over by DomDaniel's rats from the Badlands. Vicious bunch of thugs. Don't worry now, I'll think of something," said Alther. "There must be a way to get her out."

Silas looked dejected. He missed Marcia more than he liked to admit.

"Cheer up, Silas," said Alther. "I've got someone waiting for you in the tavern.

Found him wandering around the Courthouse on my way back from Marcia.

Smuggled him out through the tunnel. Better hurry up before he changes his mind and goes off again. He's a tricky one, your Simon."

"Simon!" Silas broke into a broad smile. "Alther, why didn't you say? Is he all right?"

"Looks all right," said Alther tersely.

Simon had spent nearly two weeks back with his family when, on the day before the full moon, Aunt Zelda stood on the cottage doorstep Listening to something far away. "Boys, boys, not now," she said to Nicko and Boy 412, who were having a duel with some spare broom handles. "I need to concentrate."

Nicko and Boy 412 suspended their fight while Aunt Zelda became very still and her eyes took on a faraway look. "Someone's coming," she said after a while. "I'm sending Boggart out."

"At last!" said Jenna. "I wonder if it's Dad or Marcia. Maybe Simon's with them?

Or Mum? Maybe it's everyone!"

Maxie jumped up and bounded over to Jenna, his tail wagging madly. Sometimes Maxie seemed to understand exactly what Jenna was saying. Except when it was something like ''Bath time, Maxie!" or "No more biscuits, Maxie!"

"Calm down, Maxie," said Aunt Zelda, rubbing the wolfhound's silky ears. "The trouble is it doesn't feel like anyone I know."

"Oh," said Jenna, "but who else knows we're here?"

"I don't know," replied Aunt Zelda. "But whoever it is, they're in the marshes now.

Just arrived. I can feel it. Go and lie down, Maxie. Good boy. Now, where's that Boggart?"

Aunt Zelda gave a piercing whistle. The squat brown figure climbed out of the Mott and waddled up the path to the cottage.

"Not so loud," he complained, rubbing his small round ears. "Goes right through me that does." He nodded to Jenna. "Evenin, miss."

"Hello, Boggart." Jenna smiled. The Boggart always made her smile.

"Boggart," said Aunt Zelda, "there's someone coming through the marshes. More than one perhaps. I'm not sure. "Can you just nip off and find out who it is?"

"No trouble. Could do with a swim. Won't be long," said the Boggart. Jenna watched him waddle off down to the Mott and disappear into the water with a quiet splash.

"While we're waiting for Boggart we should get the Preserve Pots ready," said Aunt Zelda. "Just in case."

"But Dad said you made the cottage Enchanted after the Brownie raid," said Jenna. "Doesn't that mean we're safe?"

"Only against Brownies," said Aunt Zelda, "and even that's wearing off by now.

Anyway, whoever is coming across the marsh feels a lot bigger than a Brownie to me."

Aunt Zelda went to find the Shield Bug Preserves spell book.

Jenna looked at the Preserve Pots, which were still lined up on the windowsills.

Inside the thick green gloop the Shield Bugs were waiting. Most were sleeping, but some were slowly moving about as if they knew they might be needed. For who?

wondered Jenna. Or what?

"Here we are," said Aunt Zelda as she appeared with the spell book and thumped it down on the table. She opened it at the first page and took out a small silver hammer, which she handed to Jenna.

"Right, here's the Activate," she said to her. "If you could just go round and tap each Pot with this, then they'll be Ready."

Jenna took the silver hammer and walked along the lines of Pots, tapping on every lid. As she did so, each Pot's inhabitant woke up and snapped to attention. Before long there was an army of fifty-six Shield Bugs waiting to be released. Jenna reached the last Pot, which contained the ex-millipede. She tapped the lid with the silver hammer. To her surprise, the lid flew off, and the Shield Bug shot out in a shower of green goo. It landed on Jenna's arm.

Jenna screamed.

The released Shield Bug crouched, sword at the ready, on Jenna's forearm. She stood frozen to the spot, waiting for the bug to turn and attack her, forgetting that the bug's only mission was to defend its Releaser from her enemies. Which it was busy looking for.

The Shield's green armored scales moved fluidly as it shifted about, sizing up the room. Its thick right arm held a razor-sharp sword that glinted in the candlelight and its short powerful legs moved restlessly as the bug shifted its weight from one large foot to the other while it sized up the potential enemies.

But the potential enemies were a disappointing lot.

There was a large patchwork tent with bright blue eyes staring at it.

"Just put your hand over the bug," the tent whispered to the Releaser. "It will curl up into a ball. Then we'll try and get it back into the Pot."

The Releaser looked at the sharp little sword the bug was waving around, and she hesitated.

"I'll do it if you like," said the tent and moved toward the bug. The bug swung around menacingly, and the tent stopped in her tracks, wondering what was wrong.

They had Imprinted all the bugs, hadn't they? It should realize that none of them was the enemy. But this bug realized no such thing. It crouched on Jenna's arm, continuing its search.

Now it saw what it was looking for. Two young warriors carrying pikestaffs, poised to attack. And one of them was wearing a red hat. From a dim and distant previous life the Shield Bug remembered that red hat. It had done him wrong. The bug didn't know exactly what the wrong was, but that made no difference. It had sighted the enemy.

With a fearsome screech, the bug leaped off Jenna's arm, flapping its heavy wings, and set off through the air with a metallic clattering noise. The bug was heading straight for Boy 412 like a tiny guided missile, its sword held high above its head.

It was squealing loudly, its wide-open mouth showing rows of little pointed green teeth.

"Hit it!" yelled Aunt Zelda. "Quick, bop it on the head!"

Boy 412 gave a wild swipe with his broom handle at the advancing bug but missed. Nicko aimed a blow, but the bug swerved at the last moment, shrieking and waving its sword at Boy 412. Boy 412 stared in disbelief at the bug, terribly aware of the bug's pointy sword.

"Keep still!" said Aunt Zelda in a hoarse whisper. "Whatever you do, don't move."

Boy 412 watched, horrified, as the bug landed on his shoulder and advanced purposefully toward his neck, raising its sword like a dagger.

Jenna sprang forward. "No!" she yelled. The bug turned toward its Releaser. It didn't understand what Jenna said, but as she clamped her hand over it, the bug sheathed its sword and curled itself obediently into a ball. Boy 412 sat down on the floor with a bump.

Aunt Zelda was ready with the empty Pot, and Jenna tried to stuff the curled-up Shield Bug into it. It wouldn't go in. First one arm stayed out, then another. Jenna folded both arms in, only to find that a big green foot had kicked its way out of the jar. Jenna pushed and squeezed, but the Shield Bug struggled and fought against going back into the Pot with all its might.

Jenna was afraid it might suddenly turn nasty and use its sword, but desperate as the bug was to stay out of the Pot, it never unsheathed its sword. The safety of its Releaser was its prime concern. And how could the Releaser be safe if its protector was back in its Pot?

"You'll have to let it stay out," sighed Aunt Zelda. "I've never known anyone able to put one back. I sometimes think they are more trouble than they're worth. Still, Marcia was very insistent. As always."

"But what about Boy 412?" asked Jenna. "If it stays out, won't it just keep attacking him?"

"Not now that you've taken it off him. It should be all right."

Boy 412 looked unimpressed. "Should" was not quite what he wanted to hear.

"Definitely" was more what he had in mind.

The Shield Bug settled down on Jenna's shoulder. For a few minutes it eyed everyone suspiciously, but every time it made a move, Jenna put her hand over it, and soon the bug quieted down.

Until something scratched at the door.

Everyone froze.

Outside on the door something was scratching its claws down the door. Scritch ...

scratch ... scritch.

Maxie whined.

The Shield Bug stood up and unsheathed its sword. This time Jenna did not stop it.

The bug hovered on her shoulder, poised to jump.

"Go see if it's a friend, Bert," said Aunt Zelda calmly. The duck waddled over to the door, cocked its head to one side and listened, then gave one short meow.

"It's a friend," said Aunt Zelda. "Must be the Boggart. Don't know why he's scratching like that though."

Aunt Zelda opened the door and screamed, "Boggart! Oh, Boggart!"

The Boggart lay bleeding on the doorstep.

Aunt Zelda knelt down by the Boggart, and everyone crowded around. "Boggart, Boggart, dear. What has happened?"

The Boggart said nothing. His eyes were closed, his fur dull and matted with blood. He slumped down onto the ground, having used his last ounce of strength to reach the cottage.

"Oh, Boggart ... open your eyes, Boggart..." cried Aunt Zelda. There was no response. "Help me lift him, someone. Quick."

Nicko jumped forward and helped Aunt Zelda sit the Boggart up, but he was a slippery, heavy creature, and everyone's help was needed to get him inside. They carried the Boggart into the kitchen, trying not to notice the trail of blood that dripped onto the floor as they went, and they laid him on the kitchen table.

Aunt Zelda placed her hand on the Boggart's chest.

"He's still breathing," she said, "but only just. And his heart is fluttering like a bird.

It's very weak." She stifled a sob, then shook herself and snapped into action.

"Jenna, talk to him while I get the Physik chest. Keep talking to him and let him know we're here. Don't let him slip away. Nicko, get some hot water from the pot."

Boy 412 went to help Aunt Zelda with the Physik chest, while Jenna held the Boggart's damp and muddy paws and talked to him in a low voice, hoping that she sounded calmer than she felt.

"Boggart, it's all right, Boggart. You'll be better soon. You will. Can you hear me, Boggart? Boggart? Squeeze my hand if you can hear me."

A very faint movement of the Boggart's webbed fingers brushed against Jenna's hand.

"That's it, Boggart. We're still here. You'll be all right. You will... "

Aunt Zelda and Boy 412 came back with a large wooden chest, which they set down on the floor. Nicko put a bowl of hot water on the table.

"Right," said Aunt Zelda. "Thank you, everyone. Now I'd like you to leave me and Boggart to get on with this. Go and keep Bert and Maxie company."

But they were unwilling to leave the Boggart.

"Go on," Aunt Zelda insisted.

Jenna reluctantly let go of the Boggart's floppy paw, then she followed Nicko and Boy 412 out of the kitchen. The door was closed firmly behind them.

Jenna, Nicko and Boy 412, sat glumly on the floor by the fire. Nicko cuddled up to Maxie. Jenna and Boy 412 just stared at the fire, deep in their own thoughts.

Boy 412 was thinking about his Magyk ring. If he gave the ring to Aunt Zelda, he thought, maybe it would cure the Boggart. But if he did give her the ring, she would want to know where he had found it. And something told Boy 412 that if she knew where he had found it, she would be mad. Really mad. And maybe send him away. Anyway, it was stealing, wasn't it? He had stolen the ring. It wasn't his.

But it might save the Boggart...

The more Boy 412 thought about it, the more he knew what he had to do. He had to let Aunt Zelda have the dragon ring.

"Aunt Zelda said to leave her alone," said Jenna as Boy 412 got up and walked toward the closed kitchen door. Boy 412 took no notice.

"Don't," snapped Jenna. She jumped up to stop him, but at that moment the kitchen door opened.

Aunt Zelda came out. Her face was white and drawn, and she had blood all over her apron.

"Boggart's been shot," she said.

+> 33

Watch and Wait

The bullet was lying on the kitchen table. A small lead ball with a tuft of Boggart fur still stuck to it, it sat menacingly in the middle of Aunt Zelda's newly scrubbed table.

The Boggart lay quietly in a tin bath on the floor, but he looked too small, thin and unnaturally clean to be the Boggart they all knew and loved. A broad bandage made of a torn sheet was wrapped around his middle, but already a red stain was spreading across the whiteness of the cloth.

His eyes fluttered slightly as Jenna, Nicko and Boy 412 crept into the kitchen.

"He's to be sponged down with warm water as often as we can," said Aunt Zelda.

"We mustn't let him dry out. But do not get the bullet wound wet. And he needs to be kept clean. No mud for at least three days. I've put some yarrow leaves under his bandage, and I'm just boiling him up some willow bark tea. It will take the pain away."

"But will he be all right?" asked Jenna.

"Yes, he'll be fine." Aunt Zelda allowed herself a small, strained smile as she stirred the willow bark around a large copper pan.

"But the bullet. I mean who would do this?" Jenna found her eyes drawn to the ball of black lead, an unwelcome and threatening intruder that posed too many nasty questions.

"I don't know," said Aunt Zelda in a low voice. "I've asked Boggart, but he's in no state to speak. I think we should keep watch tonight."

So, while Aunt Zelda tended the Boggart, Jenna, Nicko and Boy 412 took themselves and the Preserve Pots outside.

Once they were in the chill night air, Boy 412's Young Army training took over.

He scouted around for somewhere that would give a good view of all the approaches to the island but at the same time give them somewhere to hide. He soon found what he was looking for. The chicken boat.

It was a good choice. At night the chickens were safely shut away in the hold of the boat, leaving the deck free. Boy 412 clambered up and crouched down behind the dilapidated wheelhouse, then he beckoned Jenna and Nicko to join him. They climbed into the chicken run and passed the Preserve Pots up to Boy 412. Then they joined him in the wheelhouse.

It was a cloudy night, and the moon was mostly hidden, but every now and then it appeared and shone a clear white light over the marshes, giving a good view for miles around. Boy 412 cast an expert eye over the landscape, checking for movement and telltale signs of disturbance just as he had been taught to by the ghastly Deputy Hunter, Catchpole. Boy 412 still remembered Catchpole with a shudder. He was an extremely tall man, which was one of the reasons he had never made it to be Hunter—he was just too visible. There were also many other reasons, such as his unpredictable temper; his habit of clicking his fingers when he got tense, which often gave him away just as he had reached his prey; and his dislike of too many baths, which had also saved those he hunted who had a keen sense of smell—provided the wind was blowing in the right direction. But the main reason Catchpole had never made it to Hunter was due to the simple fact that no one liked him.

Boy 412 didn't like him either, but he had learned a lot from him, once he had got used to the temper tantrums, the smell and the clicking. And one of the things that Boy 412 remembered was watch and wait. That's what Catchpole used to say over and over again, until it stuck in Boy 412's head like an irritating tune. Watch and wait, watch and wait, watch and wait, boy.

The theory was that if the watcher waited long enough, the prey would surely reveal itself. It may be only the slight movement of a small branch, the momentary rustling of leaves underfoot or the sudden disturbance of a small animal or bird, but the sign would surely come. All the watcher had to do was wait for it. And then, of course, recognize it when it came. That was the hardest part, and the bit that Boy 412 was not always very good at. But this time, he thought, this time without the pungent breath of the revolting Catchpole breathing down his neck, he could do it.

He was sure he could.

It was cold up in the wheelhouse, but there was a pile of old sacks stacked up there, so they wrapped themselves in them and settled down to wait. And watch. And wait.

Although the marshes were still and calm, the clouds in the sky were racing past the moon, one moment obscuring it and plunging the landscape into gloom, the next rolling away and allowing the moonlight to flood over the marshland. It was in one of these moments, when the moonlight suddenly lit up the crisscross network of drainage ditches that covered the Marram Marshes, that Boy 412 saw something. Or he thought he did. Excited, he grabbed hold of Nicko and pointed in the direction where he thought he had seen something, but just at that moment the clouds covered the moon again. So, crouched in the wheelhouse, they waited. And watched and waited some more.

It seemed to take forever for the long, thin cloud to wander across the moon, and as they waited, Jenna knew that the last thing she wanted to see was someone, or something, making its way through the marsh. She wished that whoever it was who had shot the Boggart had suddenly remembered that they had left the kettle boiling on the fire and had decided to go home and take it off before their house burned down. But she knew they hadn't because suddenly the moon had come out from behind the cloud, and Boy 412 was pointing at something again.

At first Jenna couldn't see anything at all. The flat marshland stretched below her as she peered through the old wheelhouse like a fisherman searching the sea for the sign of a shoal of fish. And then she saw it. Slowly and steadily, a long black shape was making its way along one of the distant drainage ditches.

"It's a canoe..." whispered Nicko.

Jenna's spirits rose. "Is it Dad?"

"No," whispered Nicko, "there're two people. Maybe three. I can't be sure."

"I'll go and tell Aunt Zelda," said Jenna. She got up to go, but Boy 412 put his hand on her arm to stop her.

"What?" whispered Jenna.

Boy 412 shook his head and put his finger to his lips.

"I think he thinks you might make a noise and give us away," whispered Nicko.

"Sound travels a long way over the marsh at night."

"Well, I wish he'd say so," said Jenna edgily.

So Jenna stayed in the wheelhouse and watched the canoe make steady progress, unerringly picking its way through the maze of ditches, passing by all the other islands and heading straight for theirs. As it came closer Jenna noticed that something about the figures looked horribly familiar. The larger figure in the front of the canoe had the concentrated look of a tiger stalking its prey. For a moment Jenna felt sorry for the prey until, with a jolt, she realized who that was.

It was her.

It was the Hunter, and he had come for her.

+> 34

Ambush

As the canoe drew closer the watchers in the chicken boat could see the Hunter and his companions clearly. The Hunter sat in the front of the canoe paddling at a brisk pace and behind him was the Apprentice. And behind the Apprentice was a ...

Thing. The Thing squatted on the top of the canoe, casting its eye around the marsh and occasionally making a grab for a passing insect or bat. The Apprentice cowered in front of the Thing, but the Hunter appeared to take no notice. He had more important things to think about.

Jenna shuddered when she saw the Thing. It scared her almost more than the Hunter did. At least the Hunter was a human, albeit a deadly one. But what exactly was the creature squatting on the back of the canoe? To calm herself she lifted the Shield Bug off her shoulder, where it had been sitting quietly, and holding it carefully in the palm of her hand, she pointed out the approaching canoe and its grim trio.

"Enemies," she whispered. The Shield Bug understood. It followed Jenna's slightly trembling finger and locked its sharp green eyes, which had perfect night vision, on to the figures in the canoe.

The Shield Bug was happy.

It had an enemy.

It had a sword.

Soon the sword would meet the enemy.

Life was simple when you were a Shield Bug.

The boys let out the rest of the Shield Bugs. One by one, they undid each Preserve Pot lid. As they took each lid off, a Shield Bug leaped out in a shower of green gloop, sword at the ready. With each bug Nicko or Boy 412 pointed out the rapidly approaching canoe. Soon fifty-six Shield Bugs were lined up, crouching like coiled springs on the gunnels of the chicken boat. The fifty-seventh stayed on Jenna's shoulder, fiercely loyal to its Releaser.

And now all those on the chicken boat had to do was wait. And watch. And that is what, hearts thumping in their ears, they did. They watched the Hunter and the Apprentice change from shadowy shapes into the dreaded figures they had seen months earlier at the mouth of the Deppen Ditch, and they looked just as nasty and dangerous as they had then.

But the Thing remained a shadowy shape.

The canoe had reached a narrow ditch that would take it past the turning into the Mott. All three watchers held their breath as they waited for it to reach the turning.

Maybe, thought Jenna, clutching at straws, maybe the Enchantment is working better than Aunt Zelda thinks and the Hunter can't see the cottage.

The canoe turned into the Mott. The Hunter could see the cottage only too well.

In his mind the Hunter rehearsed the three steps of the Plan: STEP ONE: Secure the Queenling. Take prisoner and install in canoe under guard of accompanying Magog. Shoot only if necessary.

Otherwise return to DomDaniel, who wished to "do the job himself"

this time.

STEP TWO: Shoot vermin, i.e., the witch woman and the Wizard boy.

And the dog.

STEP THREE: A little bit of private enterprise. Take the Young Army deserter prisoner. Return to Young Army. Collect bounty.

Satisfied with his plan, the Hunter paddled noiselessly along the Mott, heading for the landing stage.

Boy 412 saw him drawing near and motioned Jenna and Nicko to stay still. He knew any movement would give them away. In Boy 412's mind they had now progressed from Watch and Wait to Ambush. And in Ambush, Boy 412 remembered Catchpole telling him as he breathed down his neck, Stillness Is All.

Until the Instant of Action.

The fifty-six Shield Bugs, lined up along the gunnels, understood exactly what Boy 412 was doing. A large part of the Charm with which they had been created had actually been taken from the Young Army training manual. Boy 412 and the Shield Bugs were acting as one.

The Hunter, Apprentice and the Magog had no idea that very soon they would be part of an Instant of Action. The Hunter had tied up at the landing stage and was busy trying to get the Apprentice out of the canoe without making any noise and without the boy falling into the water. Normally the Hunter would not have cared in the slightest if the Apprentice had fallen in. In fact, he might have given him a sly push if it hadn't been for the fact that the Apprentice would have made a loud splash and no doubt done a lot of squawking in the bargain. So, promising himself that he'd push the irritating little so-and-so into the next available cold water when he got the chance, the Hunter had silently eased himself out of the canoe and then pulled the Apprentice up onto the landing stage.

The Magog slunk down into the canoe, pulled its black hood over its blind-worm eye, which was troubled by the bright moonlight, and stayed put. What happened on the island was none of its business. It was there to take custody of the Princess and to act as a guard against the marsh creatures during the long journey. It had done its job remarkably well, apart from one irritating incident that had been as much the fault of the Apprentice as anything. But no Marsh Wraith or Brownie had dared approach the canoe with the Magog perched on it, and the slime the Magog extruded had covered the hull of the canoe and caused all the Water Nixies' suckers to slip off, burning them unpleasantly in the process.

The Hunter was pleased with the Hunt so far. He smiled his usual smile, which never reached his eyes. At last they were here at the White Witch's hideaway, after a grueling paddle across the marsh and that wasteful encounter with some stupid marsh animal who kept getting in the way. The Hunter's smile faded at the memory of their meeting with the Boggart. He did not approve of wasting bullets. You never knew when you might need the extra one. He cradled his pistol in his hand and very slowly and deliberately loaded a silver bullet.

Jenna saw the silver pistol glint in the moonlight. She saw the fifty-six Shield Bugs lined up ready for action and decided to keep her own bug beside her. Just in case.

So she put her hand over the bug to quiet it. The bug obediently sheathed its sword and rolled into a ball. Jenna slipped the bug into her pocket. If the Hunter carried a pistol, then she would carry a bug.

With the Apprentice following in the Hunter's footsteps as he'd been instructed, the pair crept silently up the little path that led from the landing stage to the cottage, passing the chicken boat on its way. As they reached the chicken boat the Hunter stopped. He had heard something. Human heartbeats. Three sets of very fast human heartbeats. He raised his pistol...

Aaaeeeiiiigh!!

The scream of fifty-six Shield Bugs is a terrible scream. It dislocates the three tiny bones inside the ear and creates an incredible feeling of panic. Those who know about Shield Bugs will do the only thing they can: stuff their fingers in their ears and hope to control the panic. This is what the Hunter did; he stood completely still, put his fingers deep into his ears, and if he felt a flicker of panic, it did not trouble him for more than a moment.

The Apprentice of course knew nothing about Shield Bugs. So he did what anyone would do when confronted with a swarm of small green things flying toward you, waving scalpel-sharp swords and screeching so high that your ears felt like they would burst. He ran. Faster than he had ever run before, the Apprentice hurtled down to the Mott, hoping to get into the canoe and paddle to safety.

The Hunter knew that, given a choice, a Shield Bug will always chase a moving enemy and ignore a still one, which is exactly what happened. To the Hunter's great satisfaction, all fifty-six Shield Bugs decided that the enemy was the Apprentice and pursued him shrilly down to the Mott, where the terrified boy hurled himself into the freezing water to escape the clattering green swarm.

The intrepid Shield Bugs hurled themselves into the Mott after the Apprentice, doing what they had to do, following the enemy to the end, but unfortunately for them, the end they met was their own. As each bug hit the water it sank like a stone, its heavy green armor dragging it down to the sticky mud at the bottom of the Mott. The Apprentice, shocked and gasping with the cold, hauled himself out onto the bank and lay shivering under a bush, too afraid to move.

The Magog watched the scene with no apparent interest at all. Then, when all the fuss had died down, he started to trawl the depths of the mud with his long arms and pick out the drowned bugs one by one. He sat contentedly on the canoe, sucking the bugs dry and crunching them into a smooth green paste with his sharp yellow fangs—armor, swords and all—before he slowly sucked them down into his stomach.

The Hunter smiled and looked up at the wheelhouse of the chicken boat. He hadn't expected it to be this easy. All three of them waiting for him like sitting ducks.

"Are you going to come down, or am I going to come up and get you?" he asked coldly.

"Run," hissed Nicko to Jenna.

"What about you!"

"I'll be okay. It's you he's after. Just go. Now."

Nicko raised his voice and spoke to the Hunter. "Please don't shoot. I'll come down."

"Not just you, sonny. You're all coming down. The girl first."

Nicko pushed Jenna away. "Go!" he hissed.

Jenna seemed unable to move, unwilling to leave what felt like the safety of the chicken boat. Boy 412 recognized the terror on her face. He had felt like that so many times before in the Young Army, and he knew that unless he grabbed her, just as Boy 409 had once done for him to save him from a Forest wolverine, Jenna would be unable to move. And if he didn't grab her, the Hunter would. Quickly, Boy 412 propelled Jenna out of the wheelhouse, clasped her hand tightly and jumped with her off the far side of the chicken boat, away from the Hunter. As they landed on a pile of chicken dung mixed with straw, they heard the Hunter swear.

"Run!" hissed Nicko, looking down from the deck.

Boy 412 pulled Jenna to her feet, but she was still unwilling to go. "We can't leave Nicko," she gasped.

"I'll be all right, Jen. Just go!" yelled Nicko, oblivious to the Hunter and his pistol.

The Hunter was tempted to shoot the Wizard boy there and then, but his priority was the Queenling, not Wizard scum. So, as Jenna and Boy 412 picked themselves up off the dung heap, clambered over the chicken wire and ran for their lives, the Hunter leaped after them as if his own life too depended on it.

Boy 412 kept hold of Jenna as he headed away from the Hunter, around the back of the cottage and into Aunt Zelda's fruit bushes. He had the advantage over the Hunter in that he knew the island, but that did not bother the Hunter. He was doing what he did best, tracking a prey and a young and terrified one at that. Easy. After all, where could they run to? It was only a matter of time before he got them.

Boy 412 and Jenna ducked and weaved through the bushes, leaving the Hunter struggling to find his way through the prickly plants, but all too soon Jenna and Boy 412 reached the end of the fruit bushes and reluctantly emerged into the exposed grassy space that led down to the duck pond. At that moment the moon came out from behind the clouds, and the Hunter saw his prey outlined against the backdrop of the marshes.

Boy 412 ran, pulling Jenna along with him, but the Hunter was slowly gaining on them and did not seem to tire, unlike Jenna, who felt she could not run another step. They skirted the duck pond and raced up to the grassy knoll at the end of the island. Horribly close behind them they could hear the footsteps of the Hunter, echoing as he too reached the knoll and sprinted over the hollow ground.

Boy 412 dodged this way and that between the small bushes scattered about, dragging Jenna behind him, aware that the Hunter was almost near enough to reach out and grab her.

And then suddenly the Hunter was near enough. He lunged forward and dived at Jenna's feet.

"Jenna!" yelled Boy 412, pulling her out of the Hunter's grasp and jumping with her into a bush.

Jenna crashed into the bush after Boy 412, only to find that suddenly the bush wasn't there anymore, and she was tumbling headlong into a dark, cold, endless space. She landed with a jolt on a sandy floor. A moment later there was a thud, and Boy 412 lay sprawled in the darkness beside her.

Jenna sat up, dazed and aching, and rubbed the back of her head where she had hit the ground. Something very strange had happened. She tried to remember what it was. Not their escape from the Hunter, not the fall through the ground, but something even stranger. She shook her head to try to clear the fuzziness in her brain, That was it. She remembered.

Boy 412 had spoken.

+> 35

Gone to Ground

You can talk," said Jennet, rubbing the bump on her head.

"Of course I can talk," said Boy 412.

"But why haven't you, then? You haven't ever said anything. Except for your name.

I mean, number."

"That's all we were meant to say if we were captured. Rank and number. Nothing else. So that's what I did."

"You weren't captured. You were saved!" Jenna pointed out.

"I know," said Boy 412. "Well, I know that now. I didn't then."

Jenna found it very strange to be actually having a conversation with Boy 412 after all this time. And even stranger to be having it at the bottom of a pit in complete darkness. "I wish we had a light," said Jenna. "I keep thinking the Hunter's going to creep up on us." She shivered.

Boy 412 reached up inside his hat, drew out his ring and slipped it onto his right index finger. It fitted perfectly. He cupped his other hand around the dragon ring, warming it and willing it to give out its golden glow. The ring responded, and a soft glow spread out from Boy 412's hands until he could clearly see Jenna looking at him through the darkness. Boy 412 felt very happy. The ring was brighter than ever, and soon it cast a warm circle of light around them as they sat on the sandy floor of the tunnel.

"That's amazing," said Jenna. "Where did you find it?"

"Down here," said Boy 412.

"What, you just found it? Just now?"

"No. I found it before."

"Before what?"

"Before—remember when we got lost in the haar?"

Jenna nodded.

"Well, I fell down here then. And I thought I was going to be stuck here forever.

Until I found the ring. It's Magyk. It lit up and showed me the way out."

So that was what happened, thought Jenna. It made sense now. Boy 412 sitting smugly waiting for them when she and Nicko finally found their way back, frozen and soaked after hours of wandering around looking for him. She had just known he had some kind of secret. And then all that time he had been walking around with the ring and never showing anyone. There was more to Boy 412 than met the eye.

"It's a beautiful ring," she said, gazing at the gold dragon curled around Boy 412's finger. "Can I hold it?"

A little reluctantly, Boy 412 took off the ring and gave it to Jenna. She cradled it carefully in her hands, but the light began to fade and the darkness drew in around them. Soon the light from the ring had completely died.

"Have you dropped it?" Boy 412 asked accusingly.

"No," said Jenna, "it's still here in my hand. But it doesn't work for me."

"Of course it works. It's a Magyk ring," said Boy 412. "Here, give it back. I'll show you." He took the ring and immediately the tunnel was filled with light. "See, it's easy."

"Easy for you," said Jenna, "but not for me."

"I don't see why," said Boy 412, puzzled.

But Jenna had seen why. She had seen it over and over again, growing up in a household of Wizards. And although Jenna knew only too well that she was not Magykal, she could tell who was. "It's not the ring that's Magyk. It's you," she told Boy 412.

"I'm not Magyk," said Boy 412. He sounded so definite that Jenna didn't argue.

"Well, whatever you are, you'd better keep hold of the ring," she said. "So how do we get out?"

Boy 412 put the dragon ring on and set off along the tunnel, leading Jenna confidently through the twists and turns that had so confused him before, until at last they arrived at the top of the steps. "Careful," he said. "I fell down these last time and nearly lost the ring."

At the bottom of the steps Jenna stopped. Something had made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. "I've been here before," she whispered.

"When?" asked Boy 412, a bit put out. It was his place.

"In my dreams," muttered Jenna. "I know this place. I used to dream about it in the summer when I was at home. But it was bigger than this..."

"Come on," said Boy 412 briskly.

"I wonder if it is bigger, if there's an echo." Jenna raised her voice as she spoke.

there's an echo there's an echo there's an echo there's an echo there's an echo there's an echo ... sounded all around them.

"Shhh," whispered Boy 412. "He might hear us. Through the ground. They train them to hear like dogs."

"Who?"

"Hunters."

Jenna fell silent. She had forgotten about the Hunter, and now she didn't want to be reminded.

"There're pictures all over the walls," Jenna whispered to Boy 412, "and I know I've dreamed about them. They look really old. It's like they're telling a story."

Boy 412 hadn't taken much notice of the pictures before, but now he held his ring up to the smooth marble walls that formed this part of the tunnel. He could see simple, almost primitive shapes in deep blues, reds and yellows showing what seemed to be dragons, a boat being built, then a lighthouse and a shipwreck.

Jenna pointed to more shapes farther along the wall. "And these look like plans for a tower or something."

"It's the Wizard Tower," said Boy 412. "Look at the Pyramid on the top."

"I didn't know the Wizard Tower was so old," said Jenna, running her finger over the paint and thinking that maybe she was the first person to see the pictures for thousands of years.

"The Wizard Tower is very old," said Boy 412. "No one knows when it was built."

"How do you know?" asked Jenna, surprised that Boy 412 was so definite.

Boy 412 took a deep breath and said in a singsong voice, "The Wizard Tower is an Ancient Monument. Precious resources are squandered by the ExtraOrdinary Wizard to keep the Tower in its garish state of opulence, resources that could be used for healing the sick or making the Castle a more secure place for all to live.

See, I can still remember it. We used to have to recite stuff like that every week in our Know Your Enemy lesson."

"Yuck," sympathized Jenna. "Hey, I bet Aunt Zelda would be interested in all this down here," she whispered as she followed Boy 412 along the tunnel.

"She knows all about it already," said Boy 412, remembering Aunt Zelda's disappearance from the potion cupboard. "And I think she knows that I know."

"Why? Did she say?" asked Jenna, wondering how she had missed all this.

"No," said Boy 412. "But she gave me a funny look."

"She gives everyone funny looks," Jenna pointed out. "It doesn't mean she thinks they've been down some secret tunnel."

They walked on a little farther. The line of pictures had just ended and they had reached some steep steps leading upward. Jenna's attention was caught by a small rock nestled beside the bottom step. She picked it up and showed it to Boy 412.

"Hey, look at this. Isn't it lovely?"

Jenna was holding a large egg-shaped green stone. It was slippery-smooth as though someone had just polished it, and it shone with a dull sheen in the light of the ring. The green had an iridescent quality to it, like a dragonfly's wing, and it lay heavily but perfectly balanced in her two cupped hands.

"It's so smooth," said Boy 412, stroking it gently.

"Here, you have it," said Jenna impulsively. "It can be your own pet rock. Like Petroc Trelawney, only bigger. We could ask Dad to get a spell for it when we go back to the Castle."

Boy 412 took the green rock. He wasn't sure what to say. No one had ever given him a present before. He put the rock into his secret pocket on the inside of his sheepskin jacket. Then he remembered what Aunt Zelda had said to him when he had brought her some herbs from the garden. "Thank you," he said.

Something in the way he spoke reminded Jenna of Nicko.

Nicko.

Nicko and the Hunter.

"We've got to get back," said Jenna anxiously.

Boy 412 nodded. He knew they had to go and face whatever may be waiting for them outside. He had just been enjoying feeling safe for a while.

But he knew it couldn't last.

+> 36

Frozen

The trapdoor slowly rose a few inches, and Boy 412 peered out. A chill ran though him. The door to the potion cupboard had been thrown wide open, and he was looking straight at the heels of the Hunter's muddy brown boots.

Standing with his back to the potion cupboard, only a few feet away, was the figure of the Hunter, his green cloak thrown over his shoulder and his silver pistol held at the ready. He was facing the kitchen door, poised as if about to rush forward.

Boy 412 waited to see what the Hunter was about to do, but the man did nothing at all. He was, thought Boy 412, waiting. Probably for Aunt Zelda to walk out of the kitchen.

Willing Aunt Zelda to stay away, Boy 412 reached down and held his hand out for Jenna's Shield Bug.

Jenna stood anxiously on the ladder below him. She could tell that all was not well from how tense and still Boy 412 had become. When his hand reached down she took the rolled-up Shield Bug from her pocket and passed it up to Boy 412, as they had planned, sending it a silent good luck wish as she did so. Jenna had begun to like the bug and was sorry to see it go.

Carefully, Boy 412 took the bug and slowly pushed it through the open trapdoor.

He set the tiny armored green ball down on the floor, making sure he kept hold of it, and pointed it in the right direction.

Straight at the Hunter.

Then he let go. At once the bug uncurled itself, locked its piercing green eyes on to the Hunter and unsheathed its sword with a small swishing noise. Boy 412 held his breath at the noise and hoped the Hunter had not heard, but the stocky man in green made no move. Boy 412 slowly breathed out and, with a flick of his finger, he sent the bug into the air, toward its target, with a shrill shriek.

The Hunter did nothing.

He didn't turn or even flinch as the bug landed on his shoulder and raised its sword to strike. Boy 412 was impressed. He knew the Hunter was tough, but surely this was taking things too far.

And then Aunt Zelda appeared.

"Look out!" yelled Boy 412. "The Hunter!"

Aunt Zelda jumped. Not because of the Hunter but because she had never heard Boy 412 speak before and so she had no idea who had spoken. Or where the unknown voice was coming from.

Then, to Boy 412's amazement, Aunt Zelda snatched the Shield Bug off the Hunter and tapped it to make it roll back into a ball.

And still the Hunter did nothing.

Briskly, Aunt Zelda put the bug into one of her many patchwork pockets and looked around her, wondering where the unfamiliar voice had come from. And then she caught sight of Boy 412 peering out from the slightly raised trapdoor. "Is that you?" she gasped. "Thank goodness you're all right. Where's Jenna?"

"Here," said Boy 412, half afraid to speak in case the Hunter heard. But the Hunter gave no sign of having heard anything at all, and Aunt Zelda treated him as nothing more than an awkward piece of furniture as she walked around his immobile figure, lifted up the trapdoor and helped Boy 412 and Jenna out.

"What a wonderful sight, both of you safe," she said happily. "I was so worried."

"But—what about him." Boy 412 pointed to the Hunter.

" Frozen," said Aunt Zelda with an air of satisfaction. " Frozen solid and staying that way. Until I decide what to do with him."

"Where's Nicko? Is he all right?" asked Jenna as she clambered out.

"He's fine. He's gone after the Apprentice," said Aunt Zelda.

As Aunt Zelda finished speaking, the front door crashed open and the dripping-wet Apprentice was propelled inside, followed by an equally dripping-wet Nicko.

"Pig," spat Nicko, slamming the door. He let go of the boy and went over to the blazing fire to get dry.

The Apprentice dripped unhappily on the floor and looked over to the Hunter for help. He dripped even more unhappily when he saw what had happened. The Hunter stood Frozen in mid-lunge with his pistol, staring into space with empty eyes. The Apprentice gulped—a big woman in a patchwork tent was advancing purposefully toward him, and he knew only too well who it was from the Illustrated Enemy Cards he had had to study before he came on the Hunt.

It was the Mad White Witch, Zelda Zanuba Heap.

Not to mention the Wizard boy, Nickolas Benjamin Heap, and 412,, the lowlife runaway deserter. They were all here, just as he had been told they would be. But where was the one they had really come for? Where was the Queenling?

The Apprentice looked around and caught sight of Jenna in the shadows behind Boy 412. He took in Jenna's gold circlet shining against her long dark hair and her violet eyes, just like the picture on the Enemy Card (drawn very skillfully by Linda Lane, the spy). The Queenling was a little taller than he had expected, but it was definitely her.

A sly smile played on the Apprentice's lips as he wondered if he could grab Jenna all by himself. How pleased his Master would be with him. Surely then his Master would forget all his past failures and would stop threatening to send him into the Young Army as an Expendable. Especially if he had succeeded where even the Hunter had failed.

He was going to do it.

Taking everyone by surprise, the Apprentice, although hampered by his sodden robes, flung himself forward and seized hold of Jenna. He was unexpectedly strong for his size, and he wrapped a wiry arm around her throat, almost choking her.

Then he started to drag her toward the door.

Aunt Zelda made a move toward the Apprentice, and he flicked open his pocketknife, pressing it hard against Jenna's throat. "Anyone tries to stop me, and she gets it," he snarled, propelling Jenna out the open door and down the path to the canoe and the waiting Magog. The Magog paid the scene no attention at all. It was immersed in liquifying its fifteenth drowned Shield Bug, and its duties did not commence until the prisoner was in the canoe.

She nearly was.

But Nicko was not going to let his sister go without a fight. He hurtled after the Apprentice and threw himself onto him. The Apprentice landed on top of Jenna, and there was a scream. A trickle of blood ran from underneath her.

Nicko yanked the Apprentice out of the way.

"Jen, Jen!" he gasped. "Are you hurt?"

Jenna had jumped up and was staring at the blood on the path. "I—I don't think so," she stammered. "I think it's him. I think he's hurt."

"Serve him right," said Nicko, kicking the knife out of the Apprentice's reach.

Nicko and Jenna hauled the Apprentice to his feet. He had a small cut on his arm but apart from that seemed unharmed. But he was deathly white. The Apprentice was frightened by the sight of blood, particularly his own, but he was even more frightened at the thought of what the Wizards might do to him. As they dragged him back into the cottage the Apprentice made one last attempt to escape. He twisted out of Jenna's grasp and aimed a hefty kick at Nicko's shins.

A fight broke out. The Apprentice landed a nasty punch to Nicko's stomach and was just about to kick him again when Nicko twisted his arm painfully behind his back. "Get out of that one," Nicko told him. "Don't think you can try and kidnap my sister and get away with it. Pig."

"He'd never have got away with it," mocked Jenna. "He's too stupid."

The Apprentice hated being called stupid. That was all his Master ever called him.

Stupid boy. Stupid birdbrain. Stupid beetlehead. He hated it. "I'm not stupid." He gasped as Nicko tightened his grip on his arm. "I can do anything I want to. I could have shot her if I'd wanted to. I already have shot something tonight. So there." As soon as he said it, the Apprentice wished he hadn't. Four pairs of accusing eyes stared at him.

"What exactly do you mean?" Aunt Zelda asked him quietly. "You shot something?"

The Apprentice decided to brazen it out. "None of your business. I can shoot what I like. And if I want to shoot some fat ball of fur that gets in my way when I am on official business, then I will."

There was a shocked silence. Nicko broke it. "Boggart. He shot the Boggart. Pig."

"Ouch!" yelled the Apprentice.

"No violence, please, Nicko," said Aunt Zelda. "Whatever he's done, he's just a boy."

"I'm not just a boy," said the Apprentice haughtily. "I am Apprentice to DomDaniel, the Supreme Wizard and Necromancer. I am the seventh son of a seventh son."

"What?" asked Aunt Zelda. " What did you say?"

"I am Apprentice to DomDaniel, the Supreme—"

"Not that. We know that. I can see the black stars on your belt only too well, thank you."

"I said," the Apprentice spoke proudly, pleased that at last someone was taking him seriously, "that I am the seventh son of a seventh son. I am Magykal." Even though, thought the Apprentice, it hasn't quite shown itself yet. But it will.

"I don't believe you," Aunt Zelda said flatly. "I've never seen anyone less like a seventh son of a seventh son in my life."

"Well, I am," the Apprentice insisted sulkily. "I am Septimus Heap."

+> 37

Scrying

He's lying," Nicko said angrily, pacing up and down while the Apprentice dripped dry slowly by the fire. The Apprentice's green woolen robes gave off an unpleasant musty odor, which Aunt Zelda recognized as being the smell of failed spells and stale Darke Magyk. She opened a few jars of Stink Screen, and soon the air smelled pleasantly of lemon meringue pie.

"He's just saying it to upset us," said Nicko indignantly. "That little pig's name is not Septimus Heap."

Jenna put her arm around Nicko. Boy 412 wished he understood what was happening.

"Who is Septimus Heap?" he asked.

"Our brother," said Nicko.

Boy 412 looked even more confused.

"He died when he was a baby," said Jenna. "If he had lived, he would have had amazing Magykal powers. Our dad was a seventh son, you see," Jenna told him,

"but that doesn't always make you any more Magykal."

"It certainly didn't with Silas," muttered Aunt Zelda.

"When Dad married Mum they had six sons. They had Simon, Sam, Edd and Erik, Jo-Jo and Nicko. And then they had Septimus. So he was the seventh son of a seventh son. But he died. Just after he was born," said Jenna. She was remembering what Sarah had told her one summer night when she was tucked in her box bed. "I always thought he was my twin brother. But it turns out he wasn't..."

"Oh," said Boy 412, thinking how complicated it seemed to be to have a family.

"So he's definitely not our brother," Nicko was saying. "And even if he was, I wouldn't want him. He's no brother of mine."

"Well," said Aunt Zelda, "there's only one way to sort this out. We can see if he's telling the truth, which I very much doubt. Although I did always wonder about Septimus ... It never seemed quite right somehow." She opened the door and checked the moon. "A gibbous moon," she said. "Nearly full. Not a bad time to scry."

"What?" asked Jenna, Nicko and Boy 412 in unison.

"I'll show you," she said. "Come with me."

:The duck pond was the last place they all expected to end up, but there they were, looking at the reflection of the moon in the still, black water, just as Aunt Zelda had told them to.

The Apprentice was wedged firmly between Nicko and Boy 412, in case he should try to make a run for it. Boy 412 was pleased that Nicko trusted him at last. Not so long ago, it was Nicko who was trying to stop him from making a run for it. And now here he was, watching exactly the kind of Magyk he had been warned about in the Young Army: a full moon and a White Witch, her piercing blue eyes blazing in the moonlight, waving her arms in the air and talking about dead babies. What Boy 412 found difficult to believe was not that this was happening, but the fact that to him it now seemed quite normal. Not only that, but he realized that the people he was standing around the duck pond with—Jenna, Nicko and Aunt Zelda—

meant more to him than anyone ever had in his whole life. Apart from Boy 409, of course.

Except, thought Boy 412, he could do without the Apprentice. The Apprentice reminded him of most of the people who had tormented him in his previous life.

His previous life. That, decided Boy 412, was how it was going to be. Whatever happened, he was never going back to the Young Army. Never.

Aunt Zelda spoke in a low voice. "Now I am going to ask the moon to show us Septimus Heap."

Boy 412 shivered and stared at the still, dark water of the pond. In the middle lay a perfect reflection of the moon, so detailed that the seas and mountains of the moon were clearer than he had ever seen before.

Aunt Zelda looked up at the moon and said, "Sister Moon, Sister Moon, show us, if you will, the seventh son of Silas and Sarah. Show us where he is now. Show us Septimus Heap."

Everyone held their breath and looked expectantly at the the surface of the pond.

Jenna felt apprehensive. Septimus was dead. What would they see? A small bundle of bones? A tiny grave?

A silence fell. The reflection of the moon began to grow bigger until a huge white, almost perfect circle filled the duck pond. At first, vague shadows began to appear in the circle. Slowly they became more defined until they saw ... their own reflections.

"See," said the Apprentice. "You asked to see me, and there I am. I told you."

"That doesn't mean anything," said Nicko indignantly. "It's just our reflections."

"Maybe. Maybe not," said Aunt Zelda thoughtfully.

"Can we see what happened to Septimus when he was born?" asked Jenna. "Then we'd know if he was still alive, wouldn't we?"

"Yes, we would. I'll ask. But it's much more difficult to see things from the past."

Aunt Zelda took a deep breath and said, "Sister Moon, Sister Moon, show us, if you will, the first day of the life of Septimus Heap."

The Apprentice snuffled and coughed.

"Quiet, please," said Aunt Zelda.

Slowly their reflections disappeared from the surface of the water and were replaced by an exquisitely detailed scene, sharp and brilliant against the midnight darkness. The scene was somewhere that Jenna and Nicko knew well: their home back in the Castle. Like a tableau laid before them, the figures in the room were immobile, frozen in time. Sarah lay in a makeshift bed, holding a newborn baby, with Silas beside her. Jenna caught her breath. She had not realized how much she missed home until now. She glanced at Nicko, who had a look of concentration on his face that Jenna recognized as Nicko not looking upset.

Suddenly everyone gasped. The figures had begun to move. Silently and smoothly, like a moving photograph, they began to play out a scene before the entranced audience—entranced, except for one.

"My Master's Camera Obscura is a hundred times better than this old duck pond,"

the Apprentice said contemptuously.

"Shut up," hissed Nicko angrily.

The Apprentice sighed loudly and fidgeted about. It was all a load of rubbish, he thought. It's nothing to do with me.

The Apprentice was wrong. The events he was watching had changed his life.

The scene unfolded before them:

The Heaps' room looks subtly different. Everything is newer and cleaner. Sarah Heap is much younger too; her face is fuller and there is no sadness lingering in her eyes. In fact, she looks completely happy, holding her newborn baby, Septimus.

Silas is also younger; his hair is less straggly and his face less etched with worry.

There are six little boys playing together quietly.

Jenna smiled wistfully, realizing that the smallest one with the mop of unruly hair must be Nicko. He looks so cute, she thought, jumping up and down, excited and wanting to see the baby.

Silas picks Nicko up and holds him up to see his new brother. Nicko reaches out a small, pudgy hand and gently strokes the baby's cheek. Silas says something to him and then puts him down to toddle off and play with his older brothers. Now Silas is kissing Sarah and the baby good-bye. He stops and says something to Simon, the eldest, and then he is gone.

The picture fades away, the hours are passing.

Now the Heaps' room is lit by candlelight. Sarah is nursing the baby, and Simon is quietly reading a story to his younger brothers. A large figure in dark blue robes, the Matron Midwife, bustles into view. She takes the baby from Sarah and lays him in the wooden box that serves as his cot. With her back to Sarah she slips a small vial of black liquid from her pocket and dips her finger into it. Then, glancing around her guiltily, the Midwife wipes her blackened finger along the baby's lips.

At once, Septimus goes limp.

The Matron Midwife turns to Sarah, holding out the floppy baby to her. Sarah is distraught. She puts her mouth over her baby's to try to breathe life into him, but Septimus stays as limp as a rag. Soon Sarah too feels the effects of the drug. In a daze she collapses back against her pillows.

Watched by six horrified little boys, the Matron Midwife takes a huge roll of bandages out of her pocket and begins to wrap Septimus, starting with his feet and expertly working upward, until she reaches his head, where she stops for a moment and checks the baby's breathing. Satisfied, she continues with the bandaging, leaving his nose peeking out, until he looks like a tiny Egyptian mummy.

Suddenly the Matron Midwife makes for the door, taking Septimus with her. Sarah wills herself to wake from her drugged sleep just in time to see the Midwife throw open the door and bump into a shocked Silas, who has his cloak tightly wrapped around him. The Midwife pushes him aside and runs off down the corridor.

The corridors of the Ramblings are lit with brightly burning torches, which cast flickering shadows across the dark figure of the Matron Midwife as she runs, holding Septimus close. After a while she emerges into the snowy night and slows her pace, looking about anxiously. Hunched over the baby, she hurries along the deserted narrow streets until she reaches a wide-open space.

Boy 412 gasped. It was the dreaded Young Army Parade Ground.

The large dark figure moves over the snowy expanse of the parade ground, scuttling like a black beetle across a tablecloth. The guard at the barracks door salutes the Midwife and lets her in.

Inside the dismal barracks the Matron Midwife slows her pace. She walks carefully down a steep flight of narrow steps, which lead to a dank basement room full of empty cots lined up in ranks. It is what will soon become the Young Army nursery where all the orphaned and unwanted boy children from the Castle will be raised.

(The girls will go to the Domestic Service Training Hall.) Already there are four unfortunate occupants. Three are triplet sons of a Guard who dared to make a joke about the Supreme Custodians beard. The fourth is the Matron Midwife's own baby boy, six months old and being babysat in the nursery while she is at work. The babysitter, an old woman with a persistent cough, is slumped in her chair, dozing fitfully between coughing bouts. The Matron Midwife quickly places Septimus in an empty cot and unwinds his bandages. Septimus yawns and unclenches his tiny fists.

He is alive.

Jenna, Nicko, Boy 412 and Aunt Zelda stared at the scene before them in the pond, realizing that what the Apprentice had said now seemed to be all too true. Boy 412

had a nasty feeling in the pit of his stomach. He hated seeing the Young Army barracks again.

In the semidarkness of the Young Army nursery the Matron Midwife sits down wearily. She keeps glancing anxiously at the door as if waiting for someone to come in. No one appears. A minute or two later she heaves herself up from her chair and goes over to the cot where her own baby is crying and picks the child up.

At that moment the door is flung open, and the Matron Midwife wheels around, white-faced, frightened.

A tall woman in black stands in the doorway. Over her black, well-pressed robes she wears the starched white apron of a nurse, but around her waist is a bloodred belt showing the three black stars of DomDaniel.

She has come for Septimus Heap.

The Apprentice didn't like what he saw at all. He didn't want to see the lowlife family he was rescued from—they meant nothing to him. He didn't want to see what had happened to him as a baby either. What did that matter to him now? And he was sick of standing out in the cold with the enemy. Angrily, the Apprentice kicked a duck sitting beside his feet, and booted the bird straight into the water.

Bert landed with a splash in the middle of the pond, and the picture shattered into a thousand dancing fragments of light.

The spell was broken.

The Apprentice ran for it. Down to the Mott, along the path, racing as fast as he could, heading for the thin black canoe. He didn't get far. Bert, who had not taken kindly to being kicked into the pond, was after him. The Apprentice heard the flapping of the duck's powerful wings only a moment before he felt the peck of her beak on the back of his neck and the tug of his robes almost choking him. The duck took hold of his hood and pulled him toward Nicko.

"Oh, dear," said Aunt Zelda, sounding worried.

"I wouldn't bother about him," said Nicko angrily as he caught up with the Apprentice and got hold of him.

"I wasn't worried about feim," said Aunt Zelda. "I was just hoping that Bert didn't strain her beak."

+> 38

Defrosting

The Apprentice sat buddled in the corner by the fire, with Bert still hanging on to one of his dangling damp sleeves. Jenna had locked all the doors and Nicko had locked the windows, leaving Boy 412 to keep watch over the Apprentice while they went to see how the Boggart was.

The Boggart lay at the bottom of the tin bath, a small mound of damp brown fur against the white of the sheet that Aunt Zelda had laid underneath him. He half opened his eyes and regarded his visitors with a bleary, unfocused gaze.

"Hello, Boggart. Are you feeling better?" asked Jenna.

The Boggart did not respond. Aunt Zelda dipped a sponge into a bucket of warm water and gently bathed him.

"Just keeping Boggart damp," she said. "A dry Boggart is not a happy Boggart."

"He's not looking good, is he?" Jenna whispered to Nicko as they tiptoed quietly out of the kitchen with Aunt Zelda.

The Hunter, still poised outside the kitchen door, regarded Jenna with a baleful stare as she appeared. His piercing pale blue eyes locked on to her and followed her across the room. But the rest of him was as immobile as ever.

Jenna felt the stare and glanced up. A cold shiver shot through her. "He's looking at me," she said. "His eyes are following me."

"Bother," tutted Aunt Zelda. "He's beginning to DeFrost. I'd better take this before it causes any more trouble."

Aunt Zelda pulled the silver pistol out of the Hunter's Frozen hand. His eyes flashed angrily as she expertly broke open the gun and removed a small silver ball from its chamber.

"Here you are," Aunt Zelda said, handing the silver bullet to Jenna. "It has been looking for you for ten years, and now its search is over. You are safe now."

Jenna smiled uncertainly and rolled the solid silver sphere around her palm with a sense of revulsion; although, she could not help but admire how perfect it was.

Almost perfect. She lifted it up and squinted at a tiny nick in the ball. To her surprise there were two letters carved into the silver: I.P.

"What's I.P. mean?" Jenna asked Aunt Zelda. "Look, it's here on the bullet."

Aunt Zelda did not reply for a moment. She knew what the letters meant, but she was unsure about telling Jenna.

"I.P.," murmured Jenna, thinking it over. "I.P...."

"Infant Princess," said Aunt Zelda. "A named bullet. A named bullet will always find its target. It doesn't matter how or when, but find you it will. As yours has done. But not in the way they intended."

"Oh," said Jenna quietly. "So the other one, the one for my mother, did it have..."

"Yes, it did. It had Q on it."

"Ah. Can I keep the pistol too?" asked Jenna.

Aunt Zelda looked surprised. "Well, I suppose so," she said. "If you really want to."

Jenna took the gun and held it as she had seen both the Hunter and the Assassin do, feeling its heavy weight in her hand and the strange sense of power holding it gave her. "Thank you," she said to Aunt Zelda, handing the pistol back to her. "Can you keep it safe for me. For now?"

The Hunter's eyes followed Aunt Zelda as she marched the pistol off to her Unstable Potions and Partikular Poisons cupboard and locked it away. They followed her back again as she walked up to him and felt his ears. The Hunter looked furious. His eyebrows twitched, and his eyes flashed angrily, but nothing else moved.

"Good," said Aunt Zelda, "his ears are still Frozen. He can't hear what we say yet.

We've got to decide what we'll do with him before he DeFrosts."

"Can't you just ReFreeze him?" asked Jenna.

Aunt Zelda shook her head. "No," she replied regretfully. "You shouldn't ReFreeze someone once they start to DeFrost. It's not safe for them. They can get Freezer Burn. Or else go horribly soggy. Not a nice sight. But still, the Hunter's a dangerous man and he won't give up the Hunt. Ever. And somehow we have to stop him hunting us."

Jenna was thinking. "We need," she said, "to make him forget everything. Even who he is." She chuckled. "We could make him think he's a lion tamer or something."

"And then he'd join a circus and find out that he wasn't, just after he'd put his head into a lion's mouth," Nicko finished.

"We must not use Magyk to endanger life," Aunt Zelda reminded them.

"He could be a clown, then," said Jenna. "He's scary enough."

"Well, I have heard there's a circus due in the Port any day now. I'm sure he'd find work." Aunt Zelda smiled. "They take all sorts, I'm told."

Aunt Zelda fetched an old, tattered book called Magyk Memories. "You're good at this," she said, handing the book to Boy 412. "Can you find the right Charm for me? I think it's called Rogue Recollections."

Boy 412 leafed though the musty old book. It was one of those where most of the Charms had been lost, but toward the end of the book he found what he was looking for: a small, knotted handkerchief with some smudgy black writing along the hem.

"Good," said Aunt Zelda. "Perhaps you could do the spell for us, please?"

"Me?" asked Boy 412, surprised.

"If you wouldn't mind," replied Aunt Zelda. "My eyesight isn't up to it in this light." She reached up and checked the Hunter's ears. They were warm. The Hunter glared at her and narrowed his eyes in that familiar cold stare. No one took any notice. "He can hear now," she said. "Best get this done before he can speak too."

Boy 412 carefully read the spell's instructions. Then he held the knotted handkerchief and said,

Whatever your Historic may be

'tis lost to You when you see Me.

Boy 412, waved the handkerchief in front of the Hunter's angry eyes; then he undid the knot. With that, the Hunter's eyes went blank. His gaze was no longer threatening, but bewildered and maybe a little frightened.

"Good," said Aunt Zelda. "That seems to have worked well. Can you do the next bit now, please?"

Boy 412 said quietly,

So listen to your new-sprung Ways,

Remember Now your diff'rent Days.

Aunt Zelda planted herself in front of the Hunter and addressed him firmly. "This,"

she told him, "is the story of your life. You were born in a hovel down in the Port."

"You were a horrible child," Jenna told him. "And you had pimples."

"No one liked you," added Nicko.

The Hunter began to look very unhappy.

"Except your dog," said Jenna, who was beginning to feel just a bit sorry for him.

"Your dog died," said Nicko.

The Hunter looked devastated.

"Nicko," remonstrated Jenna. "Don't be mean."

" Me? What about him?"

And so the Hunter's horribly tragic life unfolded before him. It was riddled with unfortunate coincidences, stupid mistakes and highly embarrassing moments that made his newly Defrosted ears go red at their sudden recollection. At last the sad tale was finished off with his unhappy Apprenticeship to an irascible clown known to all who worked for him as Dog Breath.

The Apprentice watched with a mixture of glee and horror. The Hunter had tormented him for so long, and the Apprentice was glad to see someone was at last getting the better of him. But he could not help but wonder what they were planning to do to him.

As the sorry tale of the Hunter's past ended, Boy 412 reknotted the handkerchief and said,

What was your Life has gone away,

Another Past does now hold sway.

With some effort, they carried the Hunter outside like a large, unwieldy plank and set him up beside the Mott, so that he could finish DeFrosting out of the way. The Magog paid him no attention whatsoever, having just scooped its thirty-eighth Shield Bug out of the mud and being preoccupied with whether to take the wings off this one before it liquified it or not.

"Give me a nice garden gnome any day," said Aunt Zelda, regarding her new and, she hoped, temporary garden ornament with distaste. "But that's a job well done.

Now all we've got to sort out is the Apprentice."

"Septimus..." mused Jenna. "I can't believe it. What will Mum and Dad say? He's so horrible."

"Well, I suppose growing up with DomDaniel hasn't done him any good," said Aunt Zelda.

"Boy 412 grew up in the Young Army, but he's okay," Jenna pointed out. "He would never have shot the Boggart."

"I know," agreed Aunt Zelda. "But maybe the Apprentice, er, Septimus will improve with time." "Maybe," said Jenna doubtfully.

Sometime later, in the early hours of the morning, when Boy 412 had carefully tucked the green rock that Jenna gave him under his quilt to keep it warm and close to him—and just as they were at last settling down to sleep—there was a hesitant knock on the door.

Jenna sat up, scared. Who was it? She nudged Nicko and Boy 412 awake. Then she crept over to the window and silently drew back one of the shutters. Nicko and Boy 412 stood by the door, armed with a broom and a heavy lamp.

The Apprentice sat up in his dark corner by the fire and smiled a smug smile.

DomDaniel had sent a rescue party for him.

It was no rescue party, but Jenna went pale when she saw who it was. "It's the Hunter," she whispered.

"He's not coming in," said Nicko. "No way."

But the Hunter knocked again, louder.

"Go away!" Jenna yelled at him.

Aunt Zelda came out from tending the Boggart. "See what he wants," she said,

"and we can send him on his way."

So, against all her instincts, Jenna opened the door to the Hunter.

She hardly recognized him. Although he still wore the uniform of a Hunter, he no longer looked like one. He had gathered his thick green cloak around him like a beggar with a blanket, and he stood in the doorway apologetically and slightly stooped.

"I am sorry to trouble you gentle folk at this late hour," he murmured. "But I fear I have lost my way. I wonder if you could direct me to the Port?"

"That way," said Jenna curtly, pointing out over the marshes.

The Hunter looked confused. "I am not very good at finding my way, miss. Where exactly would that be?"

"Follow the moon," Aunt Zelda told him. "She will guide you."

The Hunter bowed humbly. "Thank you kindly, Madam. I wonder if I could trouble you by asking if there might be a circus due in town? I have hopes of obtaining a position there as a buffoon."

Jenna smothered a giggle.

"Yes, there is, as it happens," Aunt Zelda told him. "Er, would you wait a minute?"

She disappeared into the kitchen and came back with a small bag containing some bread and cheese. "Take this," she said, "and good luck with your new life."

The Hunter bowed again. "Why, thank you kindly, Madam," he said and walked down to the Mott, passing the sleeping Magog and his thin black canoe without a flicker of recognition, and out over the bridge.

Four silent figures stood at the doorway and watched the solitary figure of the Hunter pick his way uncertainly across the Marram Marshes toward his new life in FISHHEAD AND DURDLE'S

TRAVELING CIRCUS

AND MENAGERIE

until a cloud covered the moon and the marshes were once again plunged into darkness.

+> 39

The Appointment

Later that night the Apprentice escaped through the cat tunnel.

Bert, who still had all the instincts of a cat, liked to go wandering at night, and Aunt Zelda would leave the door on a one-way CharmLock. This allowed Bert to go out, but nothing to come in. Not even Bert. Aunt Zelda was very careful about stray Brownies and Marsh Wraiths.

So, when everyone except for the Apprentice had fallen asleep and Bert had decided to go out for the night, the Apprentice thought that he would follow her. It was a tight squeeze, but the Apprentice, who was as thin as a snake and twice as wriggly, wormed his way through the narrow space. As he did so, the Darke Magyk which clung to his robes DisEnchanted the cat tunnel. Soon his flustered face emerged from the tunnel into the chill night air.

Bert met him with a sharp peck on the nose, but the Apprentice was not deterred.

He was much more scared of getting stuck in the cat tunnel, with his feet still inside the house and his head on the outside, than he was of Bert. He had a feeling that no one would be in much of a hurry to pull him out if he did get stuck. So he ignored the angry duck and, with a huge effort, wriggled free.

The Apprentice made straight for the landing stage, closely pursued by Bert, who tried to grab his collar again, but this time the Apprentice was ready for her.

Angrily, he swatted her away, sending her crashing to the ground and badly bruising a wing.

The Magog was lying full length in the canoe, sleeping while it digested all fifty-six Shield Bugs. The Apprentice warily stepped over it. To his relief the creature did not stir—digestion was something a Magog took very seriously. The smell of Magog slime caught in the back of the Apprentice's throat, but he picked up the slime-covered paddle and was soon away down the Mott, heading out toward the maze of winding channels that crisscrossed the Marram Marshes and would take him to the Deppen Ditch.

As he left the cottage behind and traveled into the wide moonlit expanse of the marshes, the Apprentice began to feel a little uneasy. With the Magog sleeping, the Apprentice felt horribly unprotected and he remembered all the terrifying stories he had heard about the marshes at night. He paddled the canoe as quietly as he was able to, afraid of disturbing something that may not want to be disturbed. Or, even worse, something that might be waiting to be disturbed. All around him he could hear the nighttime noises of the marsh. He heard the muffled underground shrieking of a pack of Brownies as they pulled an unsuspecting Marsh Cat down into the Quake Ooze. And then there was a nasty scrabbling and squelching noise as two large Water Nixies tried to clamp their sucker pads onto the bottom of the canoe and chew their way into it, but they slipped off soon enough thanks to the remnants of the Magog's slime.

Sometime after the Water Nixies had dropped off, a Marsh Moaner appeared.

Although it was only a small wisp of white mist, it gave off a dank smell that reminded the Apprentice of the burrow in DomDaniel's hideout. The Marsh Moaner sat itself down behind the Apprentice and started tunelessly singing the most mournful and irritating song the Apprentice had ever heard. The tune whirled around and around inside his head— "Weerrghh-derr'waaaaah-dooooooooo ...

Weerrghh-derr-waaaah-dooooooooo ... Weerrghh-derr-waaaah-dooooooooo..." —

until the Apprentice felt he might go mad.

He tried to bat the Moaner away with his paddle, but it went straight through the wailing scrap of mist, unbalanced the canoe and nearly sent the Apprentice tumbling out into the dark water. And still the awful tune went on, a little mockingly now that the Moaner knew it had the Apprentice's attention:

"Weerrghh-derr-waaaah-dooooooooo ... Weerghh-derr-waaaah-doooooooo ...

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo..."

"Stop it!" yelled the Apprentice, unable to stand the noise a moment longer. He stuffed his fingers into his ears and started singing in a voice loud enough to shut out the ghastly tune. "I'm not listening, I'm not listening, I'm not listening," the Apprentice chanted at the top of his lungs while the triumphant Moaner swirled around the canoe, pleased with its night's work. It usually took the Marsh Moaner much longer to reduce a Young One to a gibbering wreck, but tonight it had struck lucky. Mission completed, the Marsh Moaner flattened out into a thin sheet of mist and wafted off to spend the rest of the night contentedly hanging above its favorite bog.

The Apprentice paddled doggedly on, no longer caring about the succession of Marsh Wraiths, Bogle Bugs and a very tempting array of Marshfire that danced about his canoe for hours. By then the Apprentice did not mind what anything did, as long as it didn't sing.

As the sun rose over the far reaches of the Marram Marshes, the Apprentice realized he had become hopelessly lost. He was in the middle of a featureless expanse of marshland that all looked the same to him. He paddled wearily onward, not knowing what else to do, and it was midday before he reached a wide, straight stretch of water that looked as though it actually went somewhere, rather than petering out into yet another soggy morass. Exhausted, the Apprentice turned into what was the upper reaches of the Deppen Ditch and slowly headed toward the river. His discovery of the giant Marsh Python, lurking at the bottom of the Ditch and trying to straighten itself out, hardly even bothered the Apprentice. He was far too tired to care. He was also very determined. He had an appointment with DomDaniel, and this time he wasn't going to mess things up. Very soon the Queenling would be sorry. They would all be sorry. Particularly the duck.

That morning, back at the cottage, no one could believe that the Apprentice had managed to squeeze out through the cat tunnel.

"I'd have thought his head was too big to fit through it," Jenna said scornfully.

Nicko went out to search the island, but he was soon back again. "The Hunter's canoe is gone," he said, "and that was a fast boat. He'll be far away by now."

"We've got to stop him," said Boy 412, who knew only too well just how dangerous a boy like the Apprentice could be, "before he tells anyone where we are, which he will do as soon as he can."

And so Jenna, Nicko and Boy 412 took Muriel Two and set off in pursuit of the Apprentice. As the pale spring sun rose over the Marram Marshes, sending long glancing shadows across the mires and bogs, the ungainly Muriel Two took them through the maze of cuts and ditches. She traveled slow and steady, far too slow for Nicko, who knew how quickly the Hunter's canoe must have covered the same distance. Nicko kept a watchful eye out for any sign of the sleek black canoe, half expecting to see it upturned in a Brownie Quake Ooze or drifting empty along a ditch, but to his disappointment he saw nothing apart from a long black log that only momentarily raised his hopes.

They stopped for a while to eat some goat cheese and sardine sandwiches beside the Marsh Moaners' bog. But they were left in peace as the Moaners were long gone, evaporated in the warmth of the rising sun.

It was early afternoon and a gray drizzle had set in when, at last, they paddled into the Deppen Ditch. The Marsh Python lay dozing in the mud, half covered with the sluggish water of the recently turned incoming tide. It ignored Muriel Two, much to the occupants' relief, and lay waiting for the fresh influx of fish that the rising tide would bring. The tide was very low, and the canoe sat well below the steep banks that rose up on either side of them, so it was not until they rounded the very last bend of the Deppen Ditch that Jenna, Nicko and Boy 412 saw what was waiting for them.

The Vengeance.

+> 40

The Meeting

A shocked silence fell in the Muriel Two canoe. Just a short paddle away, the Vengeance lay quietly at anchor in the early afternoon drizzle, still and steady in the middle of the river's deepwater channel. The massive black ship was a striking sight: its bow rose up like the steep side of a cliff, and with its tattered black sails furled, its two tall masts stood out like black bones against the overcast sky. An oppressive silence surrounded the ship in the gray light. No seagulls dared wheel around hoping for scraps. Small boats using the river saw the ship and hurried quietly along the shallow waters by the riverbank, more willing to risk running aground than to go near the notorious Vengeance. A heavy black cloud had formed above the masts, casting a dark shadow over the entire ship, and from the stern a blood-red flag with a line of three black stars fluttered ominously.

Nicko did not need the flag to tell him whose ship it was. No other ship had ever been painted with the strong black tar that DomDaniel used, and no other ship could have been surrounded by such a malevolent atmosphere. He gestured frantically to Jenna and Boy 412 to paddle backward, and a moment later Muriel Two was safely hidden behind the last bend of Deppen Ditch.

"What is it?" whispered Jenna.

"It's the Vengeance," whispered Nicko. "DomDaniel's ship. I reckon it's waiting for the Apprentice. I bet that's where the little toad has gone. Pass me the eyeglass, Jen."

Nicko put the telescope to his eye and saw exactly what he had feared. There in the deep shadows cast by the steep black sides of the hull was the Hunter's canoe. It lay bobbing in the water, empty and dwarfed by the bulk of the Vengeance, tied to the foot of a long rope ladder that led up to the ship's deck. The Apprentice had kept his appointment.

"It's too late," said Nicko. "He's there. Oh, yuck, what's that? Oh, disgusting. That Thing's just slipped out from inside the canoe. It's so slimy. But it can certainly get up a rope ladder. It's like some gruesome monkey." Nicko shuddered.

"Can you see the Apprentice?" whispered Jenna.

Nicko swept the eyeglass up the rope ladder. He nodded. Sure enough, the Apprentice had almost reached the top, but he had stopped and was staring down in horror at the rapidly climbing Thing. In a matter of moments the Magog had reached the Apprentice and scuttled over him, leaving a trail of vivid yellow slime across the back of his robes. The Apprentice seemed to falter for a moment and almost loosen his grip on the ladder, but he struggled up the last few rungs and collapsed on the deck, where he lay unnoticed for some time.

Serves him right, thought Nicko.

They decided to take a closer look at the Vengeance on foot. They tied Muriel Two to a rock and walked along to the beach where they had had the midnight picnic the night of their escape from the Castle. As they rounded the bend Jenna got a shock. Someone was already there. She stopped dead and ducked back behind an old tree trunk. Boy 412 and Nicko bumped into her.

"What is it?" whispered Nicko.

"There's someone on the beach," whispered Jenna. "Maybe it's someone from the ship. Keeping guard."

Nicko peered around the tree trunk. "It's not someone from the ship." He smiled.

"How do you know?" asked Jenna. "It could be."

"Because it's Alther."

Alther Mella was sitting on the beach, staring mournfully out into the drizzle. He had been there for days, hoping that someone from Keeper's Cottage would turn up. He needed to talk to them urgently.

"Alther?" whispered Jenna.

"Princess!" Alther's careworn face lit up. He wafted over to Jenna and enfolded her in a warm hug. "Well, I do believe you've grown since I last saw you."

Jenna put her fingers to her lips. "Shhh, they might hear us, Alther," she said.

Alther looked surprised. He wasn't used to Jenna telling him what to do.

"They can't hear me." He chuckled. "Not unless I want them to. And they can't hear you either—I've put up a Scream Screen, they won't hear a thing."

"Oh, Alther," said Jenna. "It is so lovely to see you. Isn't it, Nicko?"

Nicko had a big grin on his face. "It's great," he said.

Alther gave Boy 412 a quizzical look. "Here's someone else who's grown too." He smiled. "Those Young Army lads are always so painfully thin. It's nice to see you've filled out a bit. "

Boy 412 blushed.

"He's nice now too, Uncle Alther," Jenna told the ghost.

"I expect he was always nice, Princess," said Alther. "But you're not allowed to be nice in the Young Army. It's forbidden." He smiled at Boy 412.

Boy 412 smiled shyly back.

They sat on the drizzly beach, just out of sight of the Vengeance.

"How's Mum and Dad?" asked Nicko.

"And Simon?" asked Jenna. "What about Simon?"

"Ah, Simon," said Alther. "Simon had deliberately slipped away from Sarah in the Forest. Seems he and Lucy Cringe had planned to secretly get married."

"What?" said Nicko. "Simon got married?"

"No. Cringe found out and shopped him to the Custodian Guards."

"Oh, no!" gasped Jenna and Nicko.

"Oh, don't worry yourselves about Simon," said Alther, strangely unsympathetic.

"How he managed to spend all that time in the custody of the Supreme Custodian and come out looking like he'd had a holiday, I don't know. Although I have my suspicions."

"How do you mean, Uncle Alther?" asked Jenna.

"Oh, it's probably nothing, Princess." Alther seemed unwilling to say any more about Simon.

There was something Boy 412 wanted to ask but it felt odd talking to a ghost. But he had to ask, so he plucked up his courage and said, "Er, excuse me, but what's happened to Marcia? Is she all right?"

Alther sighed. "No," he said.

"No?" three voices asked at once.

"She was set up," Alther frowned. "Set up by the Supreme Custodian and the Rat Office. He's put his own rats in. Or rather DomDaniel's rats. And a vicious lot they are too. They used to run the spy network back at DomDaniel's place in the Badlands. They've got a very nasty reputation. Came in with the plague rats hundreds of years ago. Not nice."

"You mean our Message Rat was one of them?" asked Jenna, thinking of how she had rather liked him.

"No, no. He got marched off by the Rat Office heavies. He's disappeared. Poor rat.

I wouldn't give much for his chances," said Alther.

"Oh. That's awful," said Jenna.

"And the message for Marcia wasn't from Silas either," said Alther.

"I didn't think it was," said Nicko.

"It was from the Supreme Custodian," Alther said. "So when Marcia turned up at the Palace Gate to meet Silas, the Custodian Guards were waiting for her. Of course that wouldn't have been a problem for Marcia if she had got her Midnight Minutes right, but her timepiece was twenty minutes slow. And she'd given away her KeepSafe. It's a bad business. DomDaniel has taken the Amulet, so I am afraid he's now ... the ExtraOrdinary Wizard."

Jenna and Nicko were speechless. This was worse than anything they had feared.

cuse me," ventured Boy 412,, who felt terrible. It was his fault. If he had been her Apprentice then he could have helped her. This never would have happened.

"Marcia is still ... alive, isn't she?"

Alther looked at Boy 412. His faded green eyes had a kindly expression as, using his unsettling habit of reading people's minds, he said, "You couldn't have done anything, lad. They would have got you too. She was in Dungeon Number One, but now—"

Boy 412 put his head in his hands in despair. He knew all about Dungeon Number One.

Alther put a ghostly arm around his shoulder. "Don't fret now," he told him. "I was with her for most of the time and she was doing all right. Kept going pretty well, I thought. All things considered. A few days ago I just popped out to check on various little ... projects I have going on in DomDaniel's rooms at the Tower. When I got back to the dungeon she was gone. I've looked everywhere I can. I even have some of the Ancients looking. You know, the really old ghosts. But they're very faded and easily confused. Most of them don't know their way around the Castle very well anymore—they come up against a new wall or staircase and they're stuck. They can't work it out. I had to go and get one out of the kitchen midden yesterday. Apparently it used to be the Wizard's refectory. About five hundred years ago. Frankly the Ancients, sweet as they are, are more trouble than they are worth." Alther sighed. "Although I do wonder if..."

"If what?" asked Jenna.

"If she might be on the Vengeance. Unfortunately I can't get on the wretched ship to find out."

Alther was cross with himself. He would now advise any ExtraOrdinary Wizard to go to as many places as they could in their lifetime so that as a ghost they were not as thwarted as he had been. But it was too late for Alther to change what he had done while he was alive; he had to make the best of it now.

At least, when he was first appointed Apprentice, DomDaniel had insisted on taking Alther on a long and very unpleasant tour of the deepest dungeons. At the time Alther had never dreamed that one day he might come to be glad of it, but if only he had accepted an invitation to the launching party on the Vengeance ...

Alther remembered how, as one of some promising young potential Apprentices, he had been invited to a party on board DomDaniel's boat. Alther had turned down the invitation on account of the fact it was Alice Nettles's birthday. No women were allowed on the ship, and Alther was certainly not going to leave Alice alone on her birthday. At the party, the potential Apprentices had run riot and caused a great deal of damage to the ship, thus ensuring that they had no hope of being offered as much as a cleaning job with the ExtraOrdinary Wizard. Not long afterward Alther was offered the ExtraOrdinary Wizard Apprenticeship. Alther had never got the chance to visit the ship again. After the disastrous party, DomDaniel took her up to Bleak Creek for a refit. Bleak Creek was an eerie anchorage full of abandoned and rotting ships. The Necromancer had liked it so much that he left his ship there and visited every year for his summer holiday.

The subdued group sat on the damp beach. They gloomily ate the last of the damp goat cheese and sardine sandwiches and drank the dregs from the flask of beetroot and carrot cordial.

"There are some times," said Alther reflectively, "when I really miss not being able to eat anymore..."

"But this isn't one of them?" Jenna finished for him.

"Spot on, Princess."

Jenna fished Petroc Trelawney out of her pocket and offered him a sticky mix of squashed sardine and goat cheese. Petroc opened his eyes and looked at the offering. The pet rock was surprised. This was the kind of food he usually got from Boy 412; Jenna always gave him biscuits. But he ate it anyway, apart from a piece of goat cheese that stuck to his head and then later to the inside of Jenna's pocket.

When they had finished chewing the last of the soggy sandwiches, Alther said seriously, "Now, down to business."

Three worried faces looked at the ghost.

"Listen to me, all of you. You must go straight back to Keeper's Cottage. I want you to tell Zelda to take you all to the Port first thing tomorrow morning. Alice—

she is Chief Customs Officer down there now—is finding you a ship. You are to go to the Far Countries while I try and sort things out here."

"But—" gasped Jenna, Nicko and Boy 412.

Alther ignored their protest. "I will meet you all at the Blue Anchor Tavern on the Harbor tomorrow morning. You must be there. Your mother and father are coming too, along with Simon. They are on their way down the river in my old boat, Molly.

I am afraid that Sam, Erik and Edd and Jojo have refused to leave the Forest—they have gone quite wild, but Morwenna will keep an eye on them."

There was an unhappy silence. No one liked what Alther had said.

"That's running away," Jenna said quietly. "We want to stay. And fight."

"I knew you'd say that," sighed Alther. "It is just what your mother would have said. But you must go now."

Nicko stood up. "All right," he said reluctantly. "We'll see you tomorrow at the Port."

"Good," said Alther. "Now, be careful and I'll see you all tomorrow." He floated up and watched the three of them trail disconsolately back to the Muriel Two. Alther stayed watching until he was satisfied that they were making good progress along the Deppen Ditch and then he sped off along the river, flying low and fast, off to join Molly. Soon he was just a small speck in the distance.

Which was when the Muriel Two turned around and headed straight back toward the Vengeance.

+> 41

The Vengeance

There was much discussion in the Muriel Two. "I really don't know about this.

Marcia might not even be on the Vengeance."

"I bet she is, though."

"We've got to find her. I'm sure I could rescue her."

"Look, just because you've been in the Army doesn't mean you can go storming ships and rescuing people."

"It means you can try."

"He's right, Nicko."

"We'd never make it. They'll see us coming. Every ship always has a watch on board."

"But we could do that spell, you know the one ... what was it?"

" Cause Yourself to be Unseen. Easy. Then we could paddle out to the ship and I'll climb up the rope ladder, and then—"

"Whoa, stop there. That's dangerous."

"Marcia rescued me when I was in danger."

"And me."

"All right. You win."

As the Muriel Two rounded the last bend of the Deppen Ditch, Boy 412 reached up into the pocket inside his red beanie hat and drew out the dragon ring.

"What's that ring?" asked Nicko.

"Um, it's Magyk. I found it. Under the ground."

"It looks a bit like the dragon on the Amulet," said Nicko.

"Yes," said Boy 412, "I thought that too." He slipped it on his finger and felt the ring grow warm. "Shall I do the spell, then?" he asked.

Jenna and Nicko nodded and Boy 412 began to chant:

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.

Boy 412 slowly faded into the drizzle, leaving a canoe paddle hanging eerily in midair. Jenna took a deep breath and tried the spell for herself.

"You're still there, Jen," said Nicko. "Try again."

The third time was a charm. Jenna's canoe paddle now hovered in the air next to Boy 412's.

"Your turn, Nicko," said Jenna's voice.

"Hang on a minute," said Nicko. "I never did this one."

"Well, do your own, then," said Jenna. "It doesn't matter as long as it works."

"Well, er, I don't know if it does work. And it doesn't do the 'Harme not reach me'

thing at all."

"Nicko!" protested Jenna.

"All right, all right. I'll try it."

"Not seen, Not heard ... um ... I can't remember the rest."

"Try 'Not seen, not heard, not a whisper, not a word,' " suggested Boy 412 from out of nowhere.

"Oh, yes. That's it. Thanks."

The spell worked. Nicko faded slowly away.

"You all right, Nicko?" asked Jenna. "I can't see you."

There was no reply.

"Nicko?"

Nicko's paddle waggled frantically up and down.

"We can't see him and he can't see us because his Unseen is different from ours,"

said Boy 412 slightly disapprovingly, "and we won't be able to hear him either, because it's mainly a silent spell. And it doesn't protect him."

"Not a lot of good, then," said Jenna.

"No," said Boy 412. "But I've got an idea. This should do it:

Between the spells within our power,

Give us one Harmonious Hour.

"There he is!" saidjenna, as the shadowy form of Nicko Appeared. "Nicko, can you see us?" she asked.

Nicko grinned and made a thumbs-up sign.

"Wow, you're good," Jenna told Boy 412.

It was becoming misty as Nicko, using the silent part of his spell, paddled them out from the Deppen Ditch into the open waters of the river. The water was calm and heavy, spotted with a fine drizzle. Nicko was careful to create as little disturbance as possible, just in case a pair of keen eyes from the crow's nest might be drawn to the strange swirls on the surface of the water, steadily making their way toward the ship.

Nicko made good progress, and soon the steep black sides of the Vengeance reared up before them through the misty drizzle, and the Unseen Muriel Two reached the bottom of the rope ladder. They decided that Nicko would stay with the canoe while Jenna and Boy 412 tried to find out if Marcia was being held on the ship and, if possible, set her free. If they needed any help, Nicko would be ready. Jenna hoped they wouldn't. She knew that Nicko's spell would not protect him if he got into any trouble. Nicko held the canoe steady while first Jenna and then Boy 412

climbed uncertainly onto the ladder and started the long precarious climb to the Vengeance.

Nicko watched them with an uneasy feeling. He knew that Unseens can leave shadows and strange disturbances in the air, and a Necromancer like DomDaniel would have no trouble spotting them. But all Nicko could do was silently wish them luck. He had decided that if they did not come back by the time the tide had risen halfway up the Deppen Ditch, he would go in search of them, whether his spell protected him or not.

To pass the time, Nicko climbed into the Hunter's canoe. He may as well make the most of his wait, he thought, and sit in a decent boat. Even if it was a bit slimy.

And smelly. But he'd smelled worse in some of the fishing boats he used to help out on.

It was a long climb up the rope ladder and not an easy one. The ladder kept bumping against the ship's sticky black sides and Jenna was afraid that someone on board might hear them, but all was quiet above. So quiet that she began to wonder if it was some kind of ghost ship.

As they reached the top, Boy 412 made the mistake of looking down. He felt sick.

His head swam with the giddy sensation of height, and he very nearly lost his grip on the rope ladder as his hands became suddenly clammy. The water was dizzyingly far away. The Hunter's canoe looked tiny, and for a moment he thought he saw someone sitting in it. Boy 412 shook his head. Don't look down, he told himself sternly. Don't look down.

Jenna had no fear of heights. She easily clambered up onto the Vengeance and hauled Boy 412 over the gap between ladder and deck. Boy 412 kept his eyes firmly fixed on Jenna' s boots as he wriggled onto the deck and shakily stood up.

Jenna and Boy 412 looked around them.

The Vengeance was an eerie place. The heavy cloud hanging overhead cast a deep shadow over the entire ship, and the only sound they could hear was the quiet rhythmic creaking of the ship itself as it rocked gently on the incoming tide. Jenna and Boy 412 padded quietly along the deck, past neatly coiled ropes, orderly lines of tarred barrels and the occasional cannon pointing out menacingly over the Marram Marshes. Apart from the oppressive blackness and a few traces of yellow slime on the deck, the ship bore no clues as to who it belonged to. However, when they reached the prow, a strong Darke presence almost knocked Boy 412 off his feet. Jenna carried on, unaware of anything, and Boy 412 followed her, not wanting to leave her alone.

The Darkenesse came from an imposing throne, set up by the foremast, looking out to sea. It was a massive piece of furniture, strangely out of place on the deck of a ship. It was ornately carved from ebony and embellished with a deep red gold leaf—and it contained DomDaniel, the Necromancer, himself. Sitting bolt upright, his eyes closed, his mouth slightly open and a low, wet gurgle emanating from the back of his throat as he breathed in the drizzle, DomDaniel was taking his afternoon nap. Underneath the throne, like a faithful dog, lay a sleeping Thing in a pool of yellow slime.

Suddenly Boy 412 clutched Jenna's arm so hard that she nearly cried out. He pointed to DomDaniel's waist. Jenna glanced down and then looked at Boy 412 in despair. So it was true. She had hardly been able to believe what Alther had told them but here, in front of her eyes, was the truth. Around DomDaniel's waist, almost hidden in his dark robes, was the ExtraOrdinary Wizard's belt. Marcia's ExtraOrdinary Wizard belt.

Jenna and Boy 412 stared at DomDaniel with a mixture of disgust and fascination.

The Necromancer's fingers gripped the ebony arms of the throne; his thick yellow fingernails curved around the ends and clipped on to the wood like a set of claws.

His face still had the telltale gray pallor it had acquired during his years spent Underground, before he had moved out into his lair in the Badlands. It was an unremarkable face in many ways—maybe the eyes were a little too deep set, and the mouth a little too cruel for it to be wholly pleasant—but it was the Darke that lay beneath that made Jenna and Boy 412 shudder as they gazed at it. On his head DomDaniel wore a cylindrical black hat shaped like a short stovepipe, which, for some reason he did not understand, was always a little too big for him, regardless of how often he had a new one made to fit. This bothered DomDaniel more than he liked to admit, and he had become convinced that since his return to the Wizard Tower his head had started to shrink. While the Necromancer slept, the hat had slipped down and was now resting on the top of his whitish ears. The black hat was an old-fashioned Wizard hat, which no Wizard had worn, or had wanted to wear, since it had been associated with the great Wizard Inquisition many hundreds of years ago.

Above the throne a dark red silk canopy, emblazoned with a trio of black stars, hung heavily in the drizzle, dripping every now and then onto the hat and filling up the indentation in the top with a pool of water.

Boy 412 took hold of Jenna's hand. He remembered a small, moth-eaten pamphlet of Marcia's he had read one snowy afternoon called The Hypnotik Effect of the Darke, and he could feel Jenna being drawn in. He pulled her away from the sleeping figure toward an open hatch.

"Marcia's here," he whispered to Jenna. "I can feel her Presence."

As they reached the hatch there was a sound of footsteps running along the deck below and then rapidly climbing the ladder. Jenna and Boy 412 jumped back and a sailor holding a long, unlit torch ran up onto the deck. The sailor was a small, wiry man dressed in the usual Custodian black; unlike the Custodian Guards he was not shaven-headed but had long hair carefully tied back in a thin dark plait that straggled halfway down his back. He had baggy trousers that reached to just below his knee and a top with broad black and white stripes running across it. The sailor took out a tinder box, struck a spark and lit his torch. The torch flared to life, and a brilliant orange flame lit up the gray drizzly afternoon, casting dancing shadows across the deck. The sailor walked forward with the blazing torch and placed it in a holder on the prow of the ship. DomDaniel opened his eyes. His nap was over.

The sailor hovered nervously beside the throne, awaiting his instructions from the Necromancer.

"Are they returned?" came a low, hollow voice that made the hair on the back of Boy 412,'s neck stand up.

The sailor bowed, avoiding the Necromancer's gaze. "The boy is returned, my lord. And your servant."

"Is that all?"

"Yes, my lord. But..."

"But what?"

"The boy says that he captured the Princess, sire."

"The Queenling. Well, well. Wonders will never cease. Bring them to me. Now! "

"Yes, my lord." The sailor bowed low.

"And—bring up the prisoner. She will be interested to see her erstwhile charge."