Septimus Heap, Book One_ Magyk - Angie Sage [138]
“I’m sorry. I—I just…feel so scared.”
Jenna relented.
“We can’t just leave him lying on a plank,” she said to Nicko.
“I don’t see why not,” said Nicko, “except I suppose he’s polluting the Mott.”
“We’d better take him inside,” said Jenna. “Come on, give us a hand.”
They helped the Apprentice off his plank and half carried, half led him up the path and into the cottage.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in” was Aunt Zelda’s comment as Nicko and Jenna dumped the boy down in front of the fire, waking up a bleary-eyed Boy 412.
Boy 412 got up and moved away. He had seen a flicker of Darke Magyk as the Apprentice came in.
The Apprentice sat pale and shivering beside the fire. He looked ill.
“Don’t let him out of your sight, Nicko,” said Aunt Zelda. “I’ll go and get him a hot drink.”
Aunt Zelda came back with a mug of chamomile and cabbage tea. The Apprentice pulled a face but drank it down. At least it was hot.
When he had finished, Aunt Zelda said to him, “I think you had better tell us why you have come here. Or rather, you had better tell Madam Marcia. Marcia, we have a visitor.”
Marcia was at the door, having just got back from an early morning walk around the island, partly to see what had happened to the Vengeance but mostly just to taste the sweet spring air and the even sweeter taste of freedom. Although Marcia was thin after almost five weeks’ imprisonment and there were still dark shadows under her eyes, she looked much better than she had the night before. Her purple silk robes and tunic were fresh and clean, thanks to a complete Five-Minute DeepClean Spell, which she hoped had got rid of any traces of Darke Magyk. Darke Magyk was sticky stuff and Marcia had had to be particularly thorough. Her belt shone bright after its Pristine Polish and around her neck hung the Akhu Amulet. Marcia felt good. She had her Magyk back, once again she was ExtraOrdinary Wizard, and all was right with the world.
Apart from the galoshes.
Marcia kicked the offending articles of footwear off at the door and peered into the cottage, which seemed gloomy after the bright spring sunshine. There was a particular darkness by the fire, and it took a moment for Marcia to register who exactly was sitting there. When she realized who it was, her expression clouded.
“Ah, the rat from the sinking ship,” she snapped.
The Apprentice said nothing. He looked shiftily at Marcia, his pitch-black eyes coming to rest on the Amulet.
“Don’t touch him, anyone,” warned Marcia.
Jenna was surprised at Marcia’s tone, but she moved away from the Apprentice as did Nicko. Boy 412 went over to Marcia.
The Apprentice was left alone by the fire. He turned to face the disapproving circle that surrounded him. It was not meant to go like this. They were meant to feel sorry for him. The Queenling did. He had already won her over. And the mad White Witch. It was just his luck that the interfering ex–ExtraOrdinary Wizard had turned up at the wrong moment. He scowled in frustration.
Jenna looked at the Apprentice. He looked different somehow, but she could not work out what it was. She put it down to his terrible night on a ship. Being dragged into the Quake Ooze by hundreds of screaming Brownies would be enough to give anyone the dark, haunted look in the boy’s eyes.
But Marcia knew why the boy looked different. On her morning walk around the island she had seen the reason why, and it was a sight that had quite put her off her breakfast; although, admittedly, it did not take much to put Marcia off Aunt Zelda’s breakfasts.
So when the Apprentice suddenly leaped to his feet and ran toward Marcia with his hands outstretched, poised to grab at her throat, Marcia was ready for him. She ripped the clutching fingers from the Amulet and hurled the Apprentice out the door with a resounding crack of a Thunderflash.
The boy lay sprawled, unconscious, on the path.
Everyone crowded around.
Aunt Zelda was shocked. “Marcia,” she muttered, “I think you might have overdone it. He may be the most unpleasant