Septimus Heap, Book One_ Magyk - Angie Sage [112]
“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 Historie 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