by Angie Sage
Tod began to hear muttering from nearby customers—“Witch” . . . “Witch” . . . “Witch”—and people began to move away. Soon Marissa was alone in an empty space—apart from Tod, the ball and a bundle of candles that Marissa had dropped, which were now rolling across the floor.
A large woman wearing a brown shopkeeper’s coat and a grubby apron pushed her way through the onlookers. She stood, arms folded and angry, taking in the scene: her precious candles scattered across the floor, a known witch causing trouble, along with the ExtraOrdinary Apprentice—who should know better—messing around with a ball. Picking the smaller of the problem customers, she stormed up to Tod and said, “No ball games are allowed inside the stores. Take your ball and leave, Apprentice.”
“But it’s not my ball,” Tod protested.
“Oh, ‘it’s not my ball,’ ‘it’s not my fault,’ ‘it’s not my dog’s poop,’—I’ve heard it all before,” the shopkeeper snapped. And then, to Tod’s amazement, she stuck out her brawny arm, and in a catch worthy of the star of the Castle catch team, the shopkeeper plucked the ball out of the air. Her broad fingers closed around it and within her grasp the ball lay still and content at last. It had Tracked its quarry and now it had been caught: all was well. All was complete.
“Apprentice, do you want your ball or not?” the shopkeeper demanded.
“Oh! Well, yes. Yes, please. I do want it,” Tod stammered.
“And what’s the magic word?” the shopkeeper demanded.
Tod tried to think of a Magykal word to do with shops that the woman might want to know, but her mind was blank. “Um . . .” she said. “I . . .” And then Tod realized. “Please,” she said. “Please could I have the ball?”
The shopkeeper handed it over. Tod took the ball, which felt surprisingly hot, and held it tightly, afraid that it might decide to jump out of her grip. “Thank you,” she said, smiling broadly. “Thank you very much.”
“That’s all right,” the shopkeeper replied, mollified. “You run along now and I’ll get rid of the nasty witch who took your ball.” But there was no witch to get rid of. Marissa had gone, and so had three bundles of candles from a nearby display.
Tod dutifully bought Lucy’s shopping and lugged it all the way back to the building site. The ball sat quietly at the bottom of the Castle Stores bag, weighed down by packets of biscuits and sugar. Tod smiled as she walked. Finding the little green ball had transformed her day. She no longer minded how many cups of tea she had to make or how much mortar she had to mix. She didn’t know what the ball was or where it had come from, but she didn’t care. Despite its little twinge of Darke, it already felt like a friend.
AN ORMNAP
The sun was setting when at last the Orm Pit was finished. All that could be seen of weeks of laborious tunneling down through the lapis lazuli was a neat iron grille covering a circular hole at the foot of the Wizard Tower. There had been no need for it to be circular, Septimus had pointed out, as the mature Orm would never come up through it. But Lucy had been adamant; a structure must respect those who lived within, she had told Septimus sternly. Also, Lucy had said, the empty circle would act as a reminder of what the mature Orm would be doing deep beneath the ground. This had given Septimus an uneasy feeling.
But now all was done. While Tod swept up the last of the blue dust, Lucy Heap paid the builders. Then she thanked Tod for her help and wearily went home to her Simon, hoping that she might find him a little better. But she did not.
Half an hour later, darkness was falling and Tod and Septimus were walking down Wizard Way, heading for the Dragon Kennel and the nervously awaited Orm test. Tod at last got a chance to show the little green ball to Septimus.
“It’s a Tracker ball,” he said, throwing it from one hand to another. “It’s not nearly as Darke as most of them, I am pleased to say. And it is UnNamed too. Where did you get it from?”
Tod told Septimus about her meeting with Marissa in the Castle Stores.
“The ball stayed with her, you say?”
“Yes,” said Tod. “It kept bouncing up and down, like it was keeping her in one place.”
“It sounds like a simple Track,” Septimus said. “Leading its Master—or Mistress—to its quarry. But there was no one following it?”
Tod shook her head. “No. We were there for at least five minutes and no one turned up. Then the shopkeeper took the ball and Marissa ran away.”
“So, did it touch Marissa?”
“Yes, it kept bouncing up at her and hitting her. She kept batting it away, but it wouldn’t stop.”
“Until it was caught. It sounds to me like the shopkeeper unwittingly ended the Track,” Septimus said.
“So, if I let it go now, would it still go after Marissa?” Tod asked.
“Only if you Re-Instruct it.”
“Me?”
Septimus smiled. “Well, it looks like it belongs to you now. Finders keepers—isn’t that what they say about Tracker balls?”
“Is it?”
They had reached the entrance to the Palace gardens when Septimus said, “We’ve not had any Tracker balls in the Wizard Tower—apart from one Marcia confiscated from my brother Simon.”
“Lucy’s Simon?” Tod asked.
“The very same,” Septimus said. “Simon has a bit of a Darke history, believe it or not. The thing with Tracker balls is that they are often used without consent of the person who is being Tracked. They are covert Magyk, and that’s an area that tends toward the Darke.”
“Does that mean I can’t keep it in the Wizard Tower?” Tod asked anxiously.
“Not at all,” Septimus said. “We must not be afraid of the Darke. I believe we should learn to understand it. I’ll give you a Safe to keep it in just in case, though.”
They walked down to the riverbank and across the Palace Landing stage, which was lit with torches sending flames high into the still night air, and headed for the tall dense hedge that separated the Dragon Field from the Palace gardens. Septimus pushed open the gate and walked in. He stopped so suddenly that Tod trod on his cloak.
“Oh . . . rats!” Septimus exclaimed.
Tod squeezed past Septimus to see what was wrong. She gasped: something had exploded inside the Dragon Kennel. The roof was gone, and what was left of it was lying strewn across the grass. Oskar and Ferdie were hurtling toward them, and behind them came Barney Pot, running somewhat awkwardly.
“Ormie . . .” Oskar gasped as he reached them. “Ormie’s gone!”
Barney reached them, breathless. “They took the Ormlet . . .” He puffed. “Put it in a sack . . . massive bang . . . roof went flying . . . so did Mr. Spit Fyre.”
“Who took the Ormlet?” Septimus asked.
“Witches,” Barney said. “They always come at twilight, don’t they?” He looked over both shoulders and then spat upon the ground—the old way of keeping away harm when a witch’s name is said. “It was Bryony and Madron. I know them.”
Tod knew them too. Bryony and Madron were the Wendron Witch Mother’s assistants. Only a few months ago they had tried to throw Oskar and Ferdie onto a fire.
“Witches!” Septimus was shocked.
“Yes,” said Barney. “I saw them running out of the field with a sack. And I knew at once what they had in there. You can’t mistake a bright blue tail sticking out of a sack. I tried to catch up with them but, well, what with my toes—or rather, not with my toes—I’m not very fast at the moment. So before I can do anything, they take off in a boat with some kind of Enchanted thing pushing it.” Barney Pot shook his head. “I dunno. I never seen anything like that.”
“Like what?” Septimus asked.
“Some kind of creature stuck to the back of the boat. It made a nasty noise and was pushing the boat along faster than you would have thought possible. They were gone in a flash. Down the river, around Raven’s Rock and that was it.”
Septimus shook his head. “I don’t understand,” he said. “Why didn’t Spit Fyre stop them?”
> “It was awful,” Barney said. “He was flat out on the straw. Head lolling, eyes wide-open. Couldn’t get a spark out of him . . .” Barney’s voice broke and he paused to collect himself. “I thought he was dead. But it was some kind of witchy Enchantment. It lasted just long enough for them to get away. He woke up all of a sudden, sent me flying with his tail, and then that was it. Smashed his head through the roof like a fist through rice paper. Then his wings went up and he was gone, up like a star rocket.” Barney pointed up to the sky.
“That’s my dragon,” Septimus said proudly. “But how witches got the Ormlet into a sack I cannot imagine.”
Barney looked embarrassed. “Well, ExtraOrdinary, the thing is, the Ormlet’s been very quiet today. To be honest, I was glad of the break after all the trouble yesterday, but this afternoon I began to get a bit concerned, like. So I looked in and it was fast asleep and Mr. Spit Fyre was licking it. He was being quite rough with it, like he was trying to wake it up. Didn’t seem right somehow.” Barney Pot shook his head.
Tod, Oskar and Ferdie exchanged guilty glances. Tod wondered if she should tell Septimus about their morning expedition, but it felt like tattling on Oskar.
Barney was still in full flow. “What I think is that those witches came in the morning twilight and fed the Ormlet something dodgy. It wouldn’t be difficult; it eats anything.” Barney sighed. “As I know all too well.”
“So why didn’t they take it this morning?” Septimus wondered.
Barney had worked it out. “Well, you see, they couldn’t do an Enchantment; it wouldn’t last long enough. No one would want to be stuck with an Ormlet in a boat and find it was suddenly wide awake. So they fed it something in the morning twilight and came back for it in the evening twilight.” Barney shook his head. “It was strong stuff they gave it, that’s for sure.”
Oskar gave a loud sigh of despair.
“I’m so sorry, Oskar,” Septimus said kindly. “I know how much you loved the Ormlet.”
“It’s all my fault, I—” Oskar began, but Septimus stopped him.
“Of course it isn’t your fault,” he said briskly. “In fact, it isn’t anyone’s fault the Ormlet’s fallen asleep. Not even the witches.”
“How do you make that out, then?” asked Barney, puzzled.
“Barney,” Septimus said, “you remember how I said that you only had to put up with the Ormlet until it went into Stasis?”
“Yes, I do,” Barney said. “And I can’t say I wasn’t looking forward to it going off to Stasis. And hoping it wasn’t too near here if I’m honest.”
Septimus looked puzzled, but he carried on. “Well, I believe that has happened a little early, that’s all.”
Barney looked even more puzzled than Septimus. “Right . . .” he said. “So why, if you don’t mind me asking, did you get those witches to take it? I would have happily taken it there for you.” Barney sounded hurt.
“Taken it where?” asked Septimus.
“To the Stasis place. Wherever it is.”
At last Septimus understood. “Stasis isn’t a place, Barney. It’s a state of being. It’s what happens to the Ormlet when it is about to change into an adult. It spends a few days in Stasis, then it forms a cocoon and then it explodes.”
Barney looked shocked. “Explodes?”
“Apparently,” Septimus said.
“Well, you might have told me,” Barney said huffily. “If I’m being asked to look after a reptile that’s going to explode, I think it is only fair and reasonable to be told.”
Septimus felt he was losing grip of the situation. An apology seemed the quickest way out of it. “I’m really sorry, Barney. I should have told you. I see that now.”
Barney was mollified, but not much.
“We have to get the Ormlet back quickly,” Septimus said. “It will be spinning its cocoon right now. Barney, did you see which direction Spit Fyre went?”
Barney pointed downriver. “Forest,” he replied a little curtly.
“The Forest,” Septimus muttered. “Of course. Where else would the witches go? We’ll get straight back to the Wizard Tower. I hope we can see Spit Fyre from the LookOut. Then I’m going out to find him and get our Orm back. I will not have those witches messing us about any more.”
“Couldn’t my Tracker ball find the Ormlet?” Tod asked.
“In theory, yes, but in practice, no. You would need something belonging to the Ormlet to wrap it in it for . . . hmm, I think it’s thirteen minutes.” Septimus turned to Barney. “Do you have anything belonging to the Ormlet? Or anything it touched?”
“Nothing,” Barney said grumpily. “It was a greedy little reptile. It ate most of the stuff it touched.”
Suddenly Oskar spoke. “I do! I’ve got its tail!” Thrilled to be able to do something truly helpful at last, Oskar could hardly contain his excitement. “I’ll bring it to the Wizard Tower, shall I?” Then, turning to Ferdie, he said, “Hey, Ferd, come and help me. It’s really heavy.”
Back at the Wizard Tower, Septimus went straight up to the LookOut, leaving Tod sitting outside on the steps to wait for her friends. A few minutes later Tod saw Oskar and Ferdie struggling through the Great Arch carrying a long parcel wrapped in brown paper. She ran to meet them and helped carry the surprisingly heavy tail.
“I put the wrong stuffing in,” Oskar said, breathless. “Which is why it weighs a ton.”
They plonked the tail down on the visitors’ bench. By the time Oskar had unwrapped it, Septimus was back from the LookOut. “Spit Fyre’s hovering over the Forest,” he said. “About three miles away over one of the densest parts. We’re going to need this Tracker ball, so let’s get it working.” He turned to Tod. “First, you’ll need to give it a name so that when it Tracks it will allow you to follow it, and also so that it will come when you call.”
“You could call it something nice, like Ormie-Finder,” Oskar suggested.
“Don’t be daft, Oskie,” Tod said. She remembered the sound that had made her first notice the ball. “I’ll call it Bing.”
“Bing!” Oskar scoffed. “And you call me daft.”
“Bing it is,” Septimus said. He handed her a piece of paper. “This is the Naming Incantation. Take the ball in both hands and say this. Here, I’ll hold the paper for you.”
And so by the Grula-Grula’s orange door, to the great interest of a few passing Wizards, Tod read the words:
Finders: keepers, Losers: weepers.
Tracker ball: never sleepers,
Tracker ball: softly creepers,
Tracker ball, I Name you “Bing!”
They curled the tail around Bing and Oskar tied it with the string from the parcel to make sure it stayed put. Then they sat beside Bing and the tail and watched the second hand on the huge clock above the doors sweep slowly around thirteen times. It seemed to take forever.
As the hand began its fourteenth sweep, Septimus stood up. “Good, you can unwrap it now, Tod.” He turned to Oskar and Ferdie. “I assume it is no use me trying to stop you coming on the Ormlet Track?”
Oskar and Ferdie shook their heads.
“I thought not. Now, as you three know all too well, the Forest is a dangerous place. We will need some protection. Tod, would you go and fetch my brothers Edd and Erik, please?”
Tod hurried away, keeping a tight hold on Bing. She could feel the ball buzzing with excitement, almost as much as she was at the prospect of her very first Track.
PART V
WOLVERINE WAYS
Tod found Edd and Erik Heap a little intimidating. A certain feral self-sufficiency—a hangover from the years they had spent as teens living in the Forest and adopting the Forest ways—was always with them. And so it was with a feeling of nervousness that she knocked on the door of their shared rooms on the third floor of the Wizard Tower. After some time, just as Tod was wondering whether it would be rude to knock again, the door was flung open. It was all she could do not to scream. Confronting her was a large wolverine standing on tw
o legs, its eyes flashing a bright yellow.
“Oh!” said the wolverine, sounding surprised. “We thought you were Foxy. What do you want, Tod?”
“Um . . . I’m sorry. It’s really important.”
Another wolverine joined the first. “What is it?” it growled.
“Dunno,” said the first.
Tod took a deep breath and said, “I have a message from Septimus. He needs you to come to the Forest with him. It’s urgent. I’m sorry to interrupt the party stuff.”
The wolverines looked at each other, and then one of them wrenched off its head to reveal Edd Heap. Edd had long straw-colored hair like Septimus’s and his eyes shone a friendly green. Tod found Edd the easier of the twins to talk to. “You look really scary,” she ventured.
“Good,” Edd said with a smile. “So what’s up in the Forest then?”
The words came tumbling out in a rush. “It’s the Ormlet. The witches have taken it but Spit Fyre’s found it and Septimus wants to go and get it and we can Track it with my Tracker ball called Bing and we have to go right now!”
“Crumbs,” said Edd.
The other wolverine pulled off its head to reveal the short-haired Erik. “We’re not getting out of these suits,” Erik said. “They took ages to get on.”
“No need,” Edd said. “They’re ideal Forest dress.”
Septimus knew better than to react when two giant wolverines joined them in the Great Hall. He always made a point of being unflustered with the twins, particularly Erik. Besides, he reckoned the wolverine costumes might turn out to be an advantage in the Forest at night.
Not wishing to draw attention to themselves, the party set off through the quieter alleyways, heading for the North Gate, the main entrance to the Castle. This was a large gatehouse that guarded the drawbridge and where Gringe, the gatekeeper, and his wife, Mrs. Gringe, lived.
The drawbridge was lowered at sunrise and raised at sunset. By the time the wolverine party arrived, the bridge was up, the Bridge Boy had gone home and Gringe was settling down beside a cheery fire for his nightly supper of stew. He was not pleased to hear insistent knocking on his front door. He was even less pleased when he learned that his callers required him to lower the drawbridge and that one of them was no less than the ExtraOrdinary Wizard, whose requests Gringe was duty-bound to grant. However, this did not stop Gringe from making things difficult.