Septimus Heap, Book One_ Magyk - Angie Sage [23]
“I can’t get to it. There’s all this rubbish in the way.”
“If you’d done a Cleaning Spell like I’d asked you, there wouldn’t be, would there?”
“Marcia,” hissed Silas, “when you think you are about to die, a spot of housekeeping is not a number-one priority.”
“Dad,” said Nicko desperately.
“I’ll do it, then,” snapped Marcia. She clicked her fingers and recited something under her breath. There was a muffled clang as the rat door swung open and a swish as the rubbish obligingly hurled itself out of the chute and tumbled down onto the dump.
They were free.
The full moon, which was rising above the river, shone its clear white light into the blackness of the chute and guided the six tired and bruised travelers out to the place they had all been longing to reach.
The Riverside Amenity Rubbish Dump.
9
SALLY MULLIN’S CAFE
It was the usual quiet winter’s evening in Sally Mullin’s cafe. A steady buzz of conversation filled the air as a mixture of regular customers and travelers shared the large wooden tables that were gathered around a small wood-burning stove. Sally had just been around the tables sharing jokes, offering some newly baked slabs of barley cake and refilling the oil lamps that had been burning all through the dull winter afternoon. She was now back behind the bar, carefully pouring out five measures of Springo Special Ale for some newly arrived Northern Traders.
When Sally glanced over at the Traders she noticed to her surprise that the usual look of sad resignation Northern Traders were known for had been replaced by broad grins. Sally smiled. She prided herself on running a happy cafe, and if she could get five dour Traders laughing before they even had their first tankard of Springo Special, then she was doing something right.
Sally brought the ale over to the Traders’ table by the window and set it skillfully down in front of them without spilling a drop. But the Traders paid no attention to the ale, for they were too busy rubbing the steamed-up window with their grubby sleeves and peering out into the gloom. One of them pointed at something outside, and they all broke out into raucous guffaws.
The laughter was spreading around the cafe. Other customers began coming to the windows and peering out until soon the entire clientele of the cafe was pushing for a place by the long line of windows that ran along the back.
Sally Mullin peered out to see what was causing the merriment.
Her jaw dropped.
In the bright light of the full moon, the ExtraOrdinary Wizard, Madam Marcia Overstrand, was covered in rubbish and dancing like a madwoman on top of the municipal rubbish dump.
No, thought Sally, that’s not possible.
She peered through the smeary window again. Sally could not believe what she saw. There indeed was Madam Marcia with three children—three children? Everyone knew that Madam Marcia could not abide children. There was also a wolf and someone who looked vaguely familiar to Sally. Now, who was it?
Sarah’s no-good husband, Silas I’ll-Do-It-Tomorrow Heap. That’s who it was.
What on earth was Silas Heap doing with Marcia Overstrand? With three of the children? On the rubbish dump? Did Sarah know about this?
Well, she soon would.
As a good friend to Sarah Heap, Sally felt it was her duty to go and check this out. So she put the Washing-up Boy in charge of the cafe and ran out into the moonlight.
Sally clattered down the wooden gangway of the cafe pontoon and ran through the snow up the hill toward the dump. As she ran, her mind came to an inescapable conclusion.
Silas Heap was eloping with Marcia Overstrand.
It all made sense. Sarah had often complained about how Silas was obsessed with Marcia. Ever since he had given up his Apprenticeship to Alther Mella and Marcia had taken it over, Silas had watched her amazing progress with a mixture of horror and fascination, always imagining that it could have been him. And since she had become ExtraOrdinary