by Angie Sage
With an air of satisfaction, the ghost watched Kaznim step into the Hidden arch of the Manuscriptorium Way. “Close the door behind you,” she said.
Kaznim did as she was asked—she didn’t want the horrid ghost following her—and then, stumbling into the darkness, she walked bravely forward.
In the gloomy corridor, the ghost of Jillie Djinn folded her arms and waited. Within seconds the four bolts slid silently across the door and the ghost heard the locking mechanism slip into place. She wafted away up the steps, heading back to the Manuscriptorium where the scribes worked. Then she sat on the steps that led to her old rooms and waited, a triumphant smile on her face.
Kaznim’s route was not an easy one. It took her through a nest of snakes, a giant spiderweb, a tar pit, a circle of wailing spirits and many other strange and frightening places, but when at last she emerged into the evening sunshine that smelled of heat and the desert she knew she was home—or very nearly so. But as she walked across a quiet quayside, gazing up at the ships, Kaznim’s luck ran out. A baby voice piped out, “Kazzie, Kazzie! See Kazzie!”
Kaznim looked up, amazed and delighted. She saw her baby sister on a beautiful ship, held tightly in the arms of a hard-faced woman. As Bubba pointed and gabbled excitedly, the woman hurried away. Moments later a familiar figure with cropped hair and a steely stare appeared at the ship’s rail, and Kaznim locked eyes with the sorcerer Oraton-Marr.
“Seize her!” he yelled to the guards at the foot of the gangplank.
“Who, sir?” they called up.
“The child in the red coat. Yes, her. Get her!”
Five minutes later, Kaznim was prisoner on board the Tristan. Now the Castle and the Wizard Tower did not seem so bad after all.
PART VI
FORTY-TWO HOURS TO HATCHING
CONFESSIONS
That wretched Catchpole is an officious prig,” Septimus was telling Tod. “He was just as bad when I was a boy. I loathed him.” He sighed. “I suppose you have no idea where Kaznim Na-Draa might be?”
Tod and Septimus were in the ExtraOrdinary Wizard’s rooms on the twentieth floor of the Wizard Tower. Tod had just confessed that she had managed to lose not only their only clue to the whereabouts of the Orm Egg, but also the means of searching for it. Miserably, she shook her head. “I’ve no idea where she could be. She just vanished. It was almost as though she had done an UnSeen. In fact, I thought I felt something odd—a different kind of Magyk—when I first got outside the courtyard.”
“She’s too young to keep an UnSeen going for long,” Septimus said. “But that is very useful to know. I’m sending all the duty Wizards out to look for her, and they need to know to track any echoes of foreign Magyk.” He shook his head. “Though some of them would be hard put to track an elephant two feet in front of them.”
“I’d like to go too,” Tod said. “Seeing as I was the one who lost her.”
There was an awkward silence in which Tod hoped that Septimus might tell her that it didn’t matter and she wasn’t to worry, but he didn’t. What he did say surprised her. “If we don’t find Jim Knee I expect you’d like to be in the Apprentice Race this afternoon?”
Tod was embarrassed. She hoped Septimus didn’t think she had deliberately lost Jim Knee so that she would be able to be in the sled race. “Oh no,” she said quickly. And then, when Septimus looked puzzled, she added, “I mean, yes, I would love to, but I must help you look for Kaznim. And Jim Knee.”
Septimus considered the matter. “I think you should race,” he said. “People expect the ExtraOrdinary Apprentice to run in the Apprentice Race. It will set alarm bells ringing if you’re here and you don’t race. The search party can go out right now and you can get down to the Sled Shed and tell your substitute he’s off the race. And as for Jim Knee . . . well, I don’t want to Summon him but I may have to.” Septimus sighed. “I am beginning to regret giving him power over his own form.”
Tod could not help but feel a little sorry for Jim Knee. She wondered how it must feel to have no control over the most basic of things—the shape that one took in the world. She imagined being in the power of someone who could turn her into anything on a whim: a scorpion, a turtle, a little yellow crab. When Tod thought about it like that, she didn’t begrudge Jim Knee his precious autonomy one bit. She just wished he had been a bit more helpful about what he did with it.
As Tod stood up to go, there was a knock on the door. Like a good Apprentice, she went to open it. Outside was Dandra Draa and her tortoise.
At the sight of Dandra, Septimus leaped to his feet. “Sam?” he asked anxiously.
“No, no, not Sam,” Dandra said hurriedly. “Sam is sleeping and his temperature is stable.”
Septimus could see that Dandra looked hollow-eyed and upset. She was clutching Kaznim’s tortoise to her as though it was the most precious thing in the world. “But something is wrong?” Septimus asked.
Dandra took a deep breath. “Yes, it is. I, er, I have something, um, personal to tell you.”
“I’ll go now,” Tod said diplomatically.
“Please stay, Alice,” Dandra said. “Your mother knew my story and you should too. And you need to understand what—I mean who—your new friend is.”
“New friend?” Tod asked, puzzled.
“Kaznim Na-Draa—the little girl with the tortoise. With my tortoise.”
“She’s not a friend,” Tod said. She looked at Dandra, remembering what Kaznim had called her: murderer. No one who called Dandra such a thing could ever be a friend of hers.
“Take a seat, Dandra,” Septimus said. “I’m sure it can’t be that bad.”
Dandra thought it could. She sat down on the exotic purple sofa and put Ptolemy carefully on her knee. The tortoise stuck his head out and stared impassively at the ExtraOrdinary Wizard. Septimus resumed his place in a low chair beside the fire and Tod sat on the edge of the sofa, at the other end from Dandra. They both looked expectantly at their visitor. Dandra felt so nervous that she seemed to have lost her voice.
“Would you like a drink of water?” asked Septimus.
Dandra shook her head. She took a deep breath and began her story.
“You know that I came to the Castle because I was invited by dear Marcia for my skills in DisEnchantment. Her summons arrived in the nick of time, as you say here. My life was in great danger.”
Tod looked at Dandra, surprised.
“Some months before Marcia’s message, Karamander Draa and her baby daughter, Kaznim, arrived at my tent. They were destitute, but even so I was surprised to see Karamander. I thought I was the last person to whom she would turn. You see, I was the cause of her husband’s death.”
“No!” Tod muttered under her breath. Surely Kaznim could not be right?
Dandra hurried to explain. “I did not desire his death—of course not. But it was my actions that led to it. I cannot deny that.”
“We cannot always predict the effect our actions will have,” Septimus said. “If they are performed in good faith, there can be no blame.”
Both Dandra and Tod looked gratefully at Septimus. He had a way of making sense of things in a few words.
“Thank you, Septimus.” Dandra continued. “It all began when I was assistant to the court physician of the Red Queen. I worked at the palace in the Red City—so called, they said, for the color of the rock upon which it stood, but the people who lived there knew it was for the blood spilled within its walls. As assistant physician in the Royal Hospital I was relatively safe and I counted myself lucky. We were protected by the palace livery we wore and were not subject to the numerous acts of terror perpetrated by the city guards. Neither were we part of the court intrigues, which were the downfall of so many.
“We grew our medicinal herbs in the palace gardens and it was there that I met the Red Queen’s son, Salazin. Salazin was fascinated by Physik, as you call it here, and he would ask me endless questions. Slowly, we fell in love. But it was hopeless. He was betrothed to another and e
ven if he had not been, he would never have been allowed to marry a mere physician—despite the fact that actually that was what he himself dearly wanted to be. It was hopeless. We knew it was.” Dandra paused and looked up at Septimus. “So we planned to run away.”
“Yes,” said Septimus, and then he remembered that he was not meant to know the story. In the confidence of the handover from one ExtraOrdinary Wizard to another, Marcia had told him absolutely everything. With his new diplomatic skills, honed by his year as ExtraOrdinary Wizard, Septimus decided to say nothing but to listen to what Dandra said next. He resumed his neutral expression while Dandra continued.
“We disguised ourselves as traders. I cut my hair short and we became a boy and his merchant master with trading packs. I put Ptolemy into the top of one of the packs and told him to stay still. Then, early in the morning, when a caravan of traders left the city we tagged along. Apparently no one noticed our absence until Salazin did not arrive for an important meeting; even then it was not much remarked upon. It was not the first time he had missed a meeting, Salazin found Court life very tedious. I had covered my absence by leaving a note saying that I had gone into the desert to find a rare plant. However, as night fell, people began to talk. It seems our love was not the secret we had thought. The Queen was furious. She sent out a runner to track us down. The runner was my cousin Karamander’s young husband.
“The Queen ran a cruel regime. It was a terrifying thing to be chosen as a runner, for failure meant certain death. So I can only imagine what Karamander must have felt when her husband told her he had been chosen to go. Karamander’s husband arrived at our caravan at midnight. I remember to this day seeing him silhouetted against the moon as he crested the nearby dune and cantered down to our encampment. Salazin and I knew we were in great danger and so I gathered all my Magykal powers and helped him use the UnSeen I had so carefully taught him. When I saw him slowly Fade into the Aire, I did the same Unseen so that we could still see each other.” Dandra laughed, embarrassed. “Oh, I apologize, ExtraOrdinary Wizard. I forget myself. You know such things.”
“A few,” Septimus admitted with a wry smile.
“We moved a safe distance away so that no one would bump into us and sat watching Karamander’s poor husband search for us. The people we had traveled with were as puzzled as he was, for once he had explained who he was after they knew it was us. Soon the whole camp was in uproar looking for us. I became concerned that our footprints would give us away, but we stayed still and prayed that the fuss of the search and the darkness would cover them. Our prayers were answered and we were not discovered. As dawn broke, we watched Karamander’s unlucky husband head slowly for home, knowing he went to a terrible fate. I believe he was thrown to the Queen’s lion that night. But what could we do? It was him or us.
“We dared not return to the caravan, so we stayed UnSeen and watched them pack up and leave. When they were gone we took our own way south, heading for a group of lakes where we knew good people lived. We had such plans . . .”
Septimus saw tears glistening in Dandra’s eyes. “It’s all right, Dandra,” he said. “You really don’t need to tell—”
“But I do,” Dandra interrupted him. “For my Salazin’s sake, I do. So that at least someone will know how brave he was.”
“Of course,” Septimus said soothingly. “Of course.”
“Our plans . . . Salazin would become my Apprentice and I would teach him all I knew so that he could fulfill his dream and become a physician too. We would be together. We would be happy. Simple dreams . . .” A tear escaped from Dandra’s eye and landed on Ptolemy’s shell.
“We traveled through the heat of the day and decided not to make camp that night but to carry on. We wanted to put a safe distance between us and the Red City, for we knew the long arm of the Queen stretched far. But as we walked wearily into the dawn of our second day of freedom, we were spotted by a new band of runners. Quickly we did our UnSeens once again. But this time it did not go well.”
Dandra took a shuddering breath. Septimus felt great sympathy for Dandra. He still had flashbacks to his time as a boy soldier in the notorious Young Army, and even now a deep sense of fear would unexpectedly wash over him at odd times.
Clutching the tortoise to her like a comfort blanket, Dandra continued her story. Septimus and Tod heard how Salazin had bungled his UnSeen. They heard of Dandra’s guilt that her UnSeen had worked. How Salazin had refused to give her away. How he had looked straight at her Invisible self and how the expression in his eyes had told her farewell. How she had watched him being taken away, tied onto a horse facing backward, to what Dandra knew would be a terrible fate.
“I wandered UnSeen for days,” Dandra told them. “In fact, I decided to remain UnSeen for the rest of my life. I didn’t want to speak to anyone ever again. But after many days I came to a large, faded tent covered with silver stars, and from within came the sound of wailing. It was a cry of grief that I understood. I knew someone in there had died. A boy ran from the tent and he saw me. I will not trouble you with more details, but his father, an Apothecary, had died. Of course, you will guess what happened. I stayed to look after the boy, Mysor. I took over the practice and Mysor became my Apprentice. Things went well—until some months later, Karamander Draa turned up.
“I took her in. Of course I did. I felt I owed her that at the very least. All was good for a few months. Karamander was a willing helper and little Kaznim was a joy to be with. But then others began to arrive, people whom Karamander called cousins—although I recognized none of them. She asked me to let them stay awhile and I felt unable to refuse. If I dared to suggest it was time they moved on, Karamander would break down in tears about her husband and the terrible death he had endured. Still more ‘cousins’ kept arriving, and I was soon vastly outnumbered and frightened by the amount of weapons the newcomers brought with them. My medical practice began to suffer as people who had trekked for miles to see me felt threatened. I began to suspect that Karamander had come to seek revenge.
“I was right. One morning I heard them plotting to kill me while I slept. That very day Marcia’s message inviting me to the Wizard Tower arrived, and never was a message more welcome. Late that evening I left a note for Mysor—who I knew would be safe, as Karamander clearly liked the boy—but I could not find Ptolemy. So alone once more I stole into the night and trekked to the Port of the Singing Sands. I took the first ship out the very next morning and as the land dropped beneath the horizon, I felt safe for the first time in years. But I was a fool to think I could run from this. Now Karamander has sent her daughter to take revenge and there is no escape. Not for me.”
Septimus was not convinced. “But a mother would never send such a young child on a revenge mission—surely she would come herself. And from what Marwick says, Kaznim never intended to come here.”
Dandra shook her head. “This morning, the child threatened to bring a powerful sorcerer to kill me.”
“I think,” Tod said carefully, “that Kaznim only wanted her tortoise back.”
Dandra clutched Ptolemy to herself. “He is my tortoise,” she said.
Tod and Septimus exchanged glances. The feud went deep.
Dandra continued. “The child clearly has access to a sorcerer, probably more than one. The Red City is riddled with them; they all vie to serve the Red Queen. Septimus, I am so sorry. I told Marcia my history and I should have told you, too. I have brought danger to your door.”
Tucking Ptolemy under her arm, Dandra stood up. “I do not wish to bring trouble to the Wizard Tower. I will catch the afternoon barge to the Port.”
Tod jumped up. “No! Please, Dandra. Don’t go.”
Septimus, too, got to his feet. “Dandra, you must stay. I do not believe you have brought trouble to our door. But even if you have, I would not wish you to go. The Wizard Tower is not a fair-weather friend. It is loyal to all within its walls.”
Dandra at last understood that she truly was with friends. Not tru
sting herself to speak, she clutched her tortoise to her and ran out. As the door swung closed, Septimus murmured, “Who would have thought a little tortoise could cause so much trouble?”
Tod felt she had to be honest. “I think it was my fault, really,” she said. “It was because I took the cards while Kaznim was asleep. Kaznim noticed and said I had stolen them. And she was right.”
Septimus looked thoughtful. “Sometimes, Tod, you will find you do have to do things that are a little . . . distasteful for the good of the Wizard Tower and the Castle. You did the right thing.”
Tod shook her head. “I wanted it to be the right thing,” she said. “But afterward it didn’t feel that way.”
“You did what you felt was right at the time, for the right reasons—to find the Orm Egg,” Septimus said. “And getting that egg is the most important thing right now, don’t you agree?”
“Yes,” Tod said—and then immediately felt bad because she had actually made it more difficult. “I’d do anything to find the Orm Egg,” she said. “Anything.”
Septimus did not like to see his new Apprentice so upset. He knew she blamed herself for losing Kaznim and Jim Knee. “Tod,” he said. “If I had been thinking straight last night I would have put a guard outside the dorm to stop Kaznim from running off. Her disappearance is not your fault, okay?”
Tod nodded.
“And as for Jim Knee—well, I am that wretched jinnee’s Master and as such I am, unfortunately, responsible for all he does. You do understand that?”