Septimus Heap, Book One_ Magyk - Angie Sage [163]
“No. I am sorry,” said Snorri. She smiled and the girl smiled back. Snorri went on her way back to the Alfrún, wondering. She had heard that the Castle had a Princess, but surely this could not be her, walking around just like anyone else?
The girl, who was indeed the Princess, continued on her way to the Palace with the purple-robed ghost.
“She’s a Spirit-Seer,” said the ghost.
“Who is?”
“That young Trader. I did not Appear to her but she saw me. I’ve never met one before. They’re very rare, they are only found in the Lands of the Long Nights.” The ghost shivered. “Gives me the creeps.”
The Princess laughed. “You are funny, Alther,” she said. “I bet you give people the creeps all the time.”
“I do not,” replied the ghost indignantly. “Well . . . only if I want to.”
Over the next few days, the autumn weather closed in. The north winds blew the leaves from the trees and sent them skittering down the streets. The air grew chill and people began to notice how early it was getting dark.
But to Snorri Snorrelssen, the weather felt good. She spent her days wandering around the Castle, exploring its highways and byways, looking with amazement into the windows of all the fascinating little shops tucked away underneath the arches in The Ramblings and even buying the odd trinket. She had gazed up at the Wizard Tower in awe, caught a glimpse of what appeared to be an extremely bossy ExtraOrdinary Wizard, and been shocked at the great piles of manure that the Wizards kept in their courtyard. She had joined the crowd watching the old clock in Drapers Yard strike twelve noon and laughed at the faces that the twelve tin figures had made as they sauntered out from behind the clock. Another day, she had walked down Wizard Way, taken a tour of the oldest printing press, and then peered through the railings at the beautiful old Palace, which was smaller than she had expected. She had even talked to an old ghost called Gudrun at the Palace Gate, who had recognized a fellow country-woman, even though they were divided by seven centuries.
But the one ghost that Snorri had hoped to see in her wanderings eluded her. Although she only knew what he looked like from a picture that her mother kept at her bedside, she was sure that she would recognize him if she saw him. But despite constantly scanning the crowds of ghosts that wandered by, Snorri caught not so much as a glimpse of her father.
Late one afternoon, after exploring some of the darker alleyways at the back of The Ramblings where many of the Traders took lodgings, Snorri had had a fright. It was getting near sunset and she had just bought a hand torch from Maizie Smalls’s Takeaway Torch Shop. As she walked back along Squeeze Guts Alley to the South Gate, Snorri had the uncomfortable feeling that she was being followed, but every time she turned around, there was nothing to see. Suddenly Snorri had heard a scuffling behind her, she spun around and there they were—a pair of round red eyes and one long needlelike tooth glinting in the light of her hand torch. As soon as the eyes saw the flame, they melted into the twilight and Snorri saw no more of them. Snorri told herself that it was only a rat, but not long after, as she walked briskly back to the main thoroughfare, Snorri had heard a shrill scream coming from Squeeze Guts Alley. Someone who had ventured down the Alley without a torch had not been so lucky.
Snorri was shaken and in need of some human company, so that evening she had supper at Sally Mullin’s. Sally had warmed to Snorri because, as she had said to her friend Sarah Heap, “You can’t blame a young girl just because she’s got the misfortune to be a Trader, and I suppose they’re not all bad. You’ve got to admire her, Sarah, she’s sailed that great barge all on her own. Don’t know how she did it. I used to find Muriel difficult enough.”
The café was strangely empty that evening. Snorri was the only customer. Sally brought Snorri an extra piece of barley cake and sat beside her. “It’s terrible for business,