Septimus Heap, Book One_ Magyk - Angie Sage [36]
Finally the Apprentice dared to shout out to the Hunter, “Did you know that that boat’s name is back to front?”
“Don’t try to be clever with me, boy.”
The Hunter’s eyesight was good, but maybe not as good as a ten-and-a-half-year-old boy’s, whose hobby was collecting and labeling ants. Not for nothing had the Apprentice spent hours at his Master’s Camera Obscura, hidden far away in the Badlands, watching the river. He knew the names and histories of all the boats that sailed there. He knew that the boat they had been chasing before the Fog was Muriel, built by Rupert Gringe and hired out to catch herring. He also knew that after the Fog the boat was called , and “” was a mirror image of “Muriel.” And he had been an Apprentice to DomDaniel for long enough to know exactly what that meant.
was a Projection, an Apparition, a Phantasm and an Illusion.
Luckily for the Apprentice, who was just about to inform the Hunter of this interesting fact, at that very moment back in the real Muriel, Maxie licked Marcia’s hand in a friendly, slobbery wolfhound way. Marcia shuddered at the warm wolfhound spit, her concentration lapsed for a second, and briefly disappeared in front of the Hunter’s own eyes. The boat quickly reappeared again, but too late. had given herself away.
The Hunter screamed in fury and slammed his fist down on the bullet box. Then he screamed again, this time in pain. He had broken his fifth metacarpal. His little finger. And it hurt. Nursing his hand, the Hunter yelled at the oarsmen: “Turn around, you fools!”
The bullet boat stopped, the oarsmen reversed their seats and wearily started rowing in the opposite direction. The Hunter found himself in the back of the boat. The Apprentice, to his delight, was now in the front.
But the bullet boat was not the efficient machine it had been. The oarsmen were rapidly tiring and were not taking kindly to having insults screamed at them by an increasingly hysterical would-be murderer. The rhythm of their rowing faltered, and the smooth movement of the bullet boat became uneven and uncomfortable.
The Hunter sat glowering in the back of the boat. He knew that for the fourth time that night the Trail had gone cold. The Hunt was turning bad.
The Apprentice, however, was enjoying the turnaround. He sat low at what was now the prow and, rather like Maxie, put his nose in the air and enjoyed the sensation of the night air rushing past him. He also felt relieved that he had been able to do his job. His Master would be proud. He imagined himself back at his Master’s side and how he would describe the way he had detected a fiendish Projection and saved the day. Perhaps it would stop his Master from being so disappointed in his lack of Magykal talent. He did try, thought the Apprentice, he really did, but somehow he just never quite got it. Whatever it was.
It was Jenna who saw the dreaded searchlight coming around a distant bend.
“They’re coming back!” she yelled.
Marcia jumped, lost the Projection completely and, far away at the Port, and her crew disappeared forever, much to the shock of a lone fisherman on the harbor wall.
“We’ve got to hide the boat,” said Nicko, jumping up and running along the grassy bank, followed by Jenna.
Silas shoved Maxie out of the boat and told him to go and lie down. Then he helped Marcia out, and Boy 412 scrambled after her.
Marcia sat on the grassy bank of Deppen Ditch, determined to keep her purple python shoes dry for as long as she possibly could. Everyone else, including, to Jenna’s surprise, Boy 412, waded into the shallow water and pushed Muriel clear of the sand so that she was floating again. Then Nicko grabbed a rope and pulled Muriel along the Deppen Ditch until she rounded a corner and could no longer be seen from the river. The tide was falling now, and Muriel floated low in the Ditch, her short mast