Septimus Heap, Book One_ Magyk - Angie Sage [121]
“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.”
“Her what, sire?”
“The Queenling, wretch. Get them all up here. Now!”
The sailor disappeared through the hatchway, and soon Jenna and Boy 412 could feel movement below their feet. Deep in the hold of the ship, things were stirring. Sailors were tumbling from their hammocks, putting down their carvings, knottings or unfinished ships in bottles and turning out onto the lower deck to do DomDaniel’s bidding.
DomDaniel eased off his throne, a little stiff from his doze in the chill drizzle, and blinked as a runnel of water from the top of his hat landed in his eye. Irritated, he kicked the sleeping Magog awake. The Thing oozed itself out from under the throne and followed DomDaniel along the deck, where the Necromancer stood, arms folded, a look of anticipation upon his face, waiting for those he had summoned.
Soon a heavy footfall could be heard below, and a few moments later half a dozen deckhands appeared and took up their positions as guard around DomDaniel. They were followed by the hesitant figure of the Apprentice. The boy looked white, and Jenna could see that his hands were trembling. DomDaniel barely gave him a glance. His eyes were still fixed on the open hatch, waiting for his prize, the Princess, to appear.
But no one came.
Time seemed to slow down. The deckhands shifted about, unsure of what they were actually waiting for, and the Apprentice’s nervous tic below his left eye started up. Every now and then he glanced up at his Master and quickly away again as if afraid DomDaniel may catch his eye. After what seemed an age DomDaniel demanded, “Well, where is she, boy?”
“Wh-who, sir?” stammered the Apprentice, although he knew perfectly well who the Necromancer meant.
“The Queenling, you beetlebrain. Who do you think I meant? Your idiot mother?”
“N-no, sir.”
More footsteps were heard below.
“Ah,” muttered DomDaniel. “At last.”
But it was Marcia who was pushed out through the hatch by an accompanying Magog, who held her arm tightly in its long yellow claw. Marcia tried to shake it off, but the Thing was stuck to her like glue and had covered her with streaks of yellow slime. Marcia looked down at it in disgust, and she kept exactly the same expression on her face as she turned to meet DomDaniel’s triumphant gaze. Even after a month locked away in the dark and with her Magykal powers drained from her, Marcia cut an impressive figure. Her dark hair, wild and unkempt, had an angry look to it; her salt-stained robes had a simple dignity and her purple python shoes were, as ever, spotless. Jenna could tell that she had unsettled DomDaniel.
“Ah, Miss Overstrand. So kind of you to drop by,” he murmured.
Marcia did not reply.
“Well, Miss Overstrand, this is the reason I have been keeping you. I wanted you to see this little…finale. We have an interesting little bit of news for you, do we not, Septimus?” The Apprentice nodded uncertainly.
“My trusted Apprentice has been visiting some friends of yours, Miss Overstrand. In a sweet little cottage over thereabouts.” DomDaniel waved his ring-encrusted hand toward the Marram Marshes.
Something in Marcia’s expression changed.
“Ah, I see you know who I mean, Miss Overstrand. I rather thought you might. Now, my Apprentice here has reported a successful mission.”
The Apprentice tried to say something but was waved quiet by his Master.
“Even I have not heard the full details. I am sure you would want to be the first to hear the good news. So now Septimus is going to tell us all. Aren’t you, boy?”
The Apprentice stood up reluctantly. He looked very nervous. In a reedy voice, he started to speak hesitantly, “I…um…”
“Speak up, boy. No good if we can’t hear a word you’re saying, now is it?” DomDaniel told him.
“I…er, I have found the Princess. The Queenling.”
There was an air of restlessness among the audience. Jenna got the impression that this news was not entirely