Fyre

by Angie Sage

  “Not Palace,” mumbled Marcellus. “Marcia.”

  “Palace first, then Marcia,” said Septimus firmly. Marcellus’s eyes were beginning to close. “Jen, keep him awake.”

  “Marcellus—Marcellus!” Jenna gently patted Marcellus’s bloodstained cheeks to keep him awake. “Please. Marcellus. This is very important. We have to get to the Palace Hatch. Marcellus. The Palace Ice Hatch. Which way?”

  The urgency in Jenna’s voice at last got through and Marcellus dragged himself back from the comforting sleep that beckoned to him. Marcellus knew every inch of the Ice Tunnels and even in his confused state he was able to direct them to a signpost that read TO THE PALACE.

  Septimus took the turn and coasted to a halt beneath the Palace Ice Hatch. He took his Alchemie Keye—a round gold disc—from around his neck and handed it to Jenna, saying, “Press it into the dip in the middle.”

  Septimus opened the passenger hatch and Jenna scrambled out. Water dripped on her head as she stood on top of the Tube and pressed the gold Keye into the indentation in the silver hatch above. “It’s open!” she called down. “I’ll be as quick as I can!” With that she was gone.

  Septimus stared through the greenish glass at the ice outside. Something was wrong; the ice looked different. And then he realized what it was—it had lost the frosty sparkle that he had always loved. Septimus opened the pilot hatch. “Marcellus, I’ll be back in a minute,” he said, and swung himself up and out of the hatch and down onto the ice. Septimus was shocked. It was slush.

  He looked up at the curved roof of the tunnel high above and a splat of water landed on his face. Rubbing his eyes, Septimus clambered back into the Tube. Now he knew for sure—the Ice Tunnels were melting.

  Jenna pushed open the trapdoor at the top of the flight of steps that led up from the Ice Tunnel. She threw aside a heavy (and horribly dusty) rug and found herself in the coat cupboard just off the Palace entrance hall. Coughing and sneezing, she threw open the door, rushed out and ran straight into Sam.

  “Jen!” Sam gasped.

  “Sam. No time to explain. Small gold pyramid. Very, very important. We have to find it. It’s somewhere in the Palace.”

  “Where in the Palace?”

  “Sam, if I knew that I wouldn’t be looking for it, would I?”

  Sam looked at his little sister. “It’s really important, isn’t it?” he said.

  The enormity of the search almost overwhelmed Jenna. “Oh, Sam . . . yes, it is. I don’t know how I’m going to find it. I really don’t.”

  “I’ll get the boys. We’ll find it.”

  “I gotta go and check somewhere out first, Sam. I’ll be back here in ten minutes, okay?” Jenna rushed off.

  In the Queen’s Room Jenna and the ghost of her mother had another confrontation.

  “Ah, the little gold pyramid. So heavy for something so small,” said Queen Cerys.

  “Where is it?” Jenna asked.

  “Where is it what?”

  Jenna took a deep breath and counted to ten. “Where is it, please.”

  “Where is it, please what?”

  Another count to ten. “Where is it please, Mama.”

  “Daughter, you cannot have everything at once. This mystical treasure is for Queens only. You must wait until you are crowned.”

  With great difficulty Jenna subdued the urge to jump up and down screaming.

  “Mama. This is not for me. It is for the Castle. If we do not have it now, then there may not be a Castle by the time I am crowned.”

  “Daughter, do not exaggerate.”

  Jenna took yet another very deep breath and said in a barely controlled voice, “I am not exaggerating. Mama. Please. Do you know where the little gold pyramid is?”

  “I know where I left it,” said Queen Cerys. “But given the disgusting mess, I could not say where it is now.”

  “So where did you leave it?” asked Jenna.

  “I shall tell you where when you are Queen. And not before.”

  Desperately, Jenna tried another tack. “Is Grandmamma here?”

  “No, she is not. You will have your little pyramid when you are crowned and I shall say no more on the subject until then. Now, daughter, go and calm yourself.”

  Jenna gave up the struggle. “Aaaaaaaargh!” she yelled at the top of her voice and rushed, screaming, out through the wall.

  Sam had rounded up Sarah and the boys, and they were waiting for Jenna in the entrance hall.

  “No luck?” Sam asked, although Jenna’s face already told him the answer.

  “Nope.”

  “Oh, dear,” said Sarah. “If Queen Cerys doesn’t know where it is, I don’t know what we can do. It could be anywhere.”

  Jenna sighed. “It could be anywhere” was another of Sarah’s phrases when she was looking for something—but a much less hopeful one than “it must be somewhere.”

  “Oh, but she does know where it is,” Jenna said angrily.

  Sarah brightened. “Well, that’s wonderful.”

  “But she wouldn’t tell me.”

  “She wouldn’t tell you?”

  “Not until I’m Queen.”

  Sarah was appalled. “Even though you told her how important it was?”

  “Yup. She said that she knows where she left it, but given the disgusting mess everywhere, she could not say where it is now.”

  “Well, that’s it!” said Sam. “She’s told you where it is.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Jenna.

  “Think about it—where is the one place that Cerys has seen that is a disgusting mess?”

  “Oh, wow! Sam you are just brilliant! It must be in—”

  “Mum’s room!” chorused Jenna, Sam, Edd, Erik and Jo-Jo.

  Sarah Heap looked offended. “I know it’s a bit lived-in, but I think calling my little sitting room a disgusting mess is going too far.”

  Some minutes later, Sarah’s little sitting room was even more of a disgusting mess. The efforts of four heavy-footed Forest Heaps plus a frantic Jenna and an embarrassed Sarah (who was trying to clear up little dried mounds of duck poo as they went) had reduced what fragile order there had been to a massive pile of what Jenna called “stuff” in the middle of the room. And on top of the stuff sat Ethel the duck, roosting like a wild turkey on its nest.

  Jenna looked around the unusually empty room in despair. “It’s not here,” she said. “Mum, are you sure you’ve never seen it?”

  “Never,” declared Sarah. “And I know I would have remembered a little golden pyramid. It sounds so cute.”

  “Maybe my mother didn’t mean this room after all,” said Jenna disconsolately. “After all, the whole Palace is a mess, really.”

  “But the Queen hasn’t seen the rest of the Palace,” said Sam. He kicked the fluffy rabbit doorstop in frustration.

  “Hey,” said Jenna. “It didn’t move.”

  “It’s a doorstop,” said Sam. “That’s the whole point.”

  In a flash, Jenna was on the floor trying to pick up the rabbit. “It’s so heavy!” she gasped. “Mum—scissors!”

  Sarah looked at the pile of stuff in panic. “They must be somewhere . . .”

  Suddenly four sharp Forest knives were unsheathed.

  “No!” cried Sarah. “Not Pookie!” But it was too late—the fluffy pink rabbit lay eviscerated on the floor and a small pyramid-shaped lump of leather fell out from its stuffing with a clunk.

  “Poor Pookie,” said Sarah, picking up the limp rabbit.

  Sam retrieved the leather pyramid and held it up triumphantly.

  “That old thing?” said Sarah dismissively. “Very dull. I found it on the shelf when we moved in. It was nice and heavy, so I sewed it into Pookie to make a doorstop.”

  “Sam’s right, Mum,” said Jenna. “I reckon this is it.”

  “I know it is,” Sam said, excited. He sat down on the unusually empty sofa and, biting his lip in concentration, Sam carefully cut through the tightly stitched thread. As the seams o
pened out, Jenna was thrilled to see the shine of gold beneath. A few moments later, a small gold pyramid tumbled out onto Sam’s lap and fell onto the floor with a heavy thud. Sam picked it up and held it out to Jenna. “There you are, Jens. Just for you.”

  “I’ve got it!” yelled Jenna, triumphant. Clutching the pink rabbit—which had seemed the safest place to keep the slippery and remarkably heavy little pyramid—Jenna jumped into the Purple Tube and took her seat next to Septimus. “Let’s go!”

  “Why have you got Pookie?” asked Septimus as Jenna plonked the eviscerated rabbit—which Sarah had quickly stitched closed—down between them.

  “Pyramid,” said Jenna, still breathless. “Pyramid in Pookie.”

  “Oh. Right.” Septimus shook his head in bemusement.

  Guided by Marcellus, Jenna and Septimus piloted the Tube through the Ice Tunnels, heading toward the Wizard Tower. The Tube’s runners bumped along the slush, scraping the brick below, and the thuds of chunks of ice falling from the roof and hitting the metal Tube reverberated inside. The headlight illuminated the brick-lined walls of the old Ice Tunnels and the pools of water that gathered in the dips of the tunnels. More than once they had to take the Tube down into water-filled dips of the tunnels, some of which Septimus remembered sledding through with Beetle not so very long ago.

  Jenna and Septimus glanced anxiously at each other but Marcellus was surprisingly jolly. “Back to normal, at last,” he said.

  Septimus said nothing. Marcellus had always been disapproving about the Ice Tunnels and he didn’t want to get into an argument right then. But he knew how thick the ice was in some of the narrower tunnels and Septimus could not help but ask himself, Where was it going to go?

  Some minutes later, Jenna said sharply, “Did you hear that?”

  Septimus nodded. He could hear a deep rumble behind them. Automatically he glanced back over his shoulder, forgetting that the Tube had no back window. All he saw was Marcellus sitting bolt upright, and, despite the bruise spreading across his right eye, looking very perky indeed. Smug, even, thought Septimus.

  The Tube began to shake and behind them they heard a thunderous roar as though an army of horses was galloping toward them.

  Jenna gasped. “Something’s coming,” she said. She, too, swung around in her seat, forgetting there was no back window. Marcellus no longer looked smug.

  Suddenly the roar enveloped them. A wall of water picked up the Tube and at once they too became part of the noise, the rush, the dust, the grit, and the surge of the flood that was rushing through the now ex–Ice Tunnels. Terrifyingly fast and out of control, they were swept along with the flood. Septimus struggled to keep hold of the wheel that steered the Tube while Jenna stared wide-eyed through the swash of the water, desperate not to miss the turn to the Wizard Tower. At last through the spray, Jenna picked out the initials “WT,” with a large purple hand painted onto the wall that pointed to a wide tunnel branching off to the left.

  “Left!” she yelled. “Left!” Together she and Septimus fought the wheel around to the left and felt the Tube reluctantly turn. The nose stuck briefly in the mouth of the tunnel, but then it was swung around by the floodwater and sent hurtling on past the turn, buffeted from side to side, crashing along with the flood.

  “It’s a circuit!” yelled Septimus. “We’ll go around and try again!”

  “Okay, Sep! We can do it!”

  On the backseat Marcellus looked green. He was beginning to think that maybe the Ice Tunnels weren’t such a bad idea, all things considered.

  45

  FLOOD

  Marcia UnLocked the door to the Stranger Chamber and peered inside. Alther greeted her wearily. Although ghosts do not tire physically, they can still become mentally tired, and after spending more than twenty-four hours in close proximity to Nursie and Merrin, Alther was feeling like a wet rag. Nursie was snoring in the Stranger Chair, while Merrin was sprawled on the sofa kicking the table legs and watching the water jug wobble.

  “Good morning, Merrin,” said Marcia.

  Merrin stared at Marcia. “Morning,” he said suspiciously.

  Nursie opened her eyes. At the sight of the ExtraOrdinary Wizard, Nursie came straight to the point. “You keeping us prisoner?” she asked.

  “Midwife Meredith, as I am sure Mr. Mella has explained, you and your son are here for your own safety.”

  “Leave that lever alone!” shouted Alther.

  Merrin had begun aiming desultory kicks at the lever beside the fire. “I didn’t touch it,” he said sulkily.

  “I would advise you not to,” said Alther. “Marcia, a word, please.”

  “Quickly, Alther,” said Marcia.

  “Do I have to stay in here?” whispered Alther. “They are, as Septimus would say, doing my head in.”

  “I’m sorry, Alther, but there’s no one else around right now who is Stranger Chamber–trained. Or, frankly, who I can trust not to throttle Merrin.”

  “That boy is a total nightmare,” said Alther.

  “Exactly. And only you can handle it, Alther. Now, I really must go.” With that Marcia closed the door, leaving Alther alone with his charges.

  Unable to bear the ghost of Jillie Djinn, who had taken to shouting “Fire, fire!” every few seconds, Marcia had set up her headquarters in the Great Hall. A large round table had been taken from the canteen, which Marcia had Primed and then Projected onto it a permanent map of the Castle. The watchers in the LookOuts were sending down messengers every fifteen minutes with reports on the spread of the fires, which were now springing up all over the Castle. It was Rose’s job to indicate these on the table by placing a Fire Tablet where the reported fire was. If it hadn’t been for what the Fire Tablets represented, Rose would have really enjoyed her work. She had a leather bag of thick red discs that, when pressed down onto the Primed table, burst into flame and kept burning until Quenched. So far Marcia had not Quenched any and, after a message from the West LookOut, Rose had just placed a line of four more Fire Tablets in a particularly old part of the Castle. The fires were now spreading from house to house.

  On a separate table safely away from the Fire Tablets lay The Live Plan of What Lies Beneath, which Simon—with a heavily bandaged foot propped up on a chair—was watching intently, reporting on a strange shadow that he had first picked up hovering above the Chamber of Fyre. Simon had then tracked it to the Palace, where it had stopped for some time. Both he and Marcia were convinced that this was the Ring Wizards. The shadow was now moving through the tunnels toward the Wizard Tower and causing Marcia some concern.

  The doors to the Wizard Tower swung open and Beetle hurried in. One glance at his expression told Marcia it was yet more bad news.

  “The Ice Tunnels are in flood,” said Beetle.

  A collective gasp came from everyone in the Hall. Marcia stared at Beetle in disbelief. “They can’t be,” she said.

  “They are. The tunnel below the Manuscriptorium is a torrent of water. How Romilly got out I do not know.”

  “Romilly was down there?”

  “She was monitoring the melt,” said Beetle. “She was quite a way into the system when she noticed that it was suddenly speeding up—chunks of ice were falling from the roof and the runners of the sled were hitting brick. She headed back but as she got to the long straight below the Manuscriptorium she heard a roar. Poor Romilly, she knew exactly what it was. A wall of water picked the sled up and she was carried along—she only escaped by grabbing on to the rung just below the Ice Hatch.”

  “But she’s all right?” asked Marcia.

  “Shocked. Bruised. But okay.”

  Julius Pike wafted over from the table where he had been staring at the fires. “ExtraOrdinary, you must act now. You cannot allow the Fyre to rage out of control.”

  “Thank you, Julius,” Marcia snapped. “However, I am not prepared to risk anyone’s life until we have a chance of success. We shall wait for the Committal.”

  “I hope you will not wait in va
in,” said the ghost.

  “I have faith in my Apprentice,” said Marcia.

  “Marcia!” Simon called out. “The shadow—it’s just turned into the Tower tunnel. The Ring Wizards—they’re heading this way!”

  The Tube was indeed heading that way—although with some difficulty. Jenna and Septimus had just fought to stop it from sweeping off down a wide tunnel that Septimus knew led to Beetle’s once-favorite sledding slope and they were now careering down the tunnel that led to the Wizard Tower. The Tube pitched from side to side as it rocketed along, banging against the walls. The dark, swirling water came almost to the top of the thick green glass of the cockpit window, and what was left of the window was spattered with spray. Septimus peered through, wondering how they were going to be able to see the little archway that led to the Wizard Tower.

  “Coming up!” Jenna yelled.

  In the light of the headlamp Septimus saw the rapidly approaching sign: TO THE WIZARD TOWER.

  “Stop!” shouted Jenna.

  “It won’t!” yelled Septimus. “The brake doesn’t work in water!”

  “Anchor out!” Jenna yelled.

  “What anchor?”

  “There!” Jenna pressed a red button on Septimus’s side of the cockpit. They felt something shoot out from beneath the Tube and it slewed to a jarring halt. The nose of the Tube banged violently against the wall and sent them sprawling.

  “Phew,” Septimus breathed. “That was close.”

  “Very close,” said Jenna. “Right by the steps, in fact.”

  The Purple Tube had stopped beside the small archway that led to the Wizard Tower steps. Septimus opened the hatches and looked out. The roar from the water shocked him and a rush of spray hit him in the face and splashed down through the open hatches.

  “Aargh!” came a yell from Jenna, inside. “Cold!”

  The steps leading up to the Wizard Tower were above water, but between the Tube and the safety of the bottom step rushed a narrow but turbulent stream of water. “We’re going to have to jump for it!” Septimus shouted.