Septimus Heap, Book One_ Magyk - Angie Sage [76]
“Welcome to you all. Please join us.”
The assembled witches parted respectfully to allow Morwenna, the Witch Mother, to escort her somewhat overawed guests to the best places by the fire.
“I am so glad to meet you at last, Sarah.” Morwenna smiled. “I feel as if I know you already. Silas told me so much about you the night he saved me.”
“Did he?” asked Sarah.
“Oh, yes. He talked of you and the baby the whole night long.”
“Really?”
Morwenna put her arm around Sarah’s shoulder. “We are all looking for your boy. I am sure all will be well in the end. And with your other three who are away from you now. All will be well there too.”
“My other three?” asked Sarah.
“Your other three children.”
Sarah did a hurried count. Sometimes even she could not remember how many there were.
“Two,” she said, “my other two.”
The MidWinter Feast carried on far into the night, and after a good deal of Witches’ Brew Sarah completely forgot her worries about Simon and Silas. Unfortunately they all came back to her the next morning, along with a very bad headache.
Silas’s MidWinter Feast Day was altogether more subdued.
He took the riverside track that ran along the outside of the Forest and then skirted around the Castle walls, and blown along by chill flurries of snow, he headed for the North Gate. He wanted to get to familiar territory before he decided what he was going to do. Silas pulled his gray hood right down over his green Wizard eyes, took a deep breath and walked across the snow-covered drawbridge, which led to the North Gate.
Gringe was on duty at the gatehouse, and he was in a bad temper. Things were not happy in the Gringe household just then, and Gringe had been pondering his domestic problems all morning.
“Oi, you,” grunted Gringe, stamping his feet in the cold snow, “get a move on. You’re late for the compulsory street cleaning.”
Silas hurried by.
“Not so fast!” barked Gringe. “That’ll be one groat from you.”
Silas scrabbled around in his pocket and fished out a groat, sticky with some of Aunt Zelda’s cherry and parsnip delight, which he had shoved into his pocket to avoid eating. Gringe took the groat and sniffed it suspiciously, then he rubbed it on his jerkin and put it to one side. Mrs. Gringe had the delightful task of washing any sticky money each night, so he added it to her pile and let Silas pass.
“’Ere, don’t I know you from somewhere?” Gringe called out as Silas rushed by.
Silas shook his head.
“Morris dancing?”
Silas shook his head again and kept walking.
“Lute lessons?”
“No!” Silas slipped into the shadows and disappeared down an alleyway.
“I do know ’im,” muttered Gringe to himself. “And ’e ain’t no worker neither. Not with them green eyes shinin’ out like a couple o’ caterpillars in a coal bucket.” Gringe thought for a few moments. “That’s Silas ’eap! ’E’s got a nerve comin’ ’ere. I’ll soon sort ’im out.”
It was not long before Gringe found a passing Guard, and soon the Supreme Custodian had been informed of Silas’s return to the Castle. But try as he might, he could not find him. Marcia’s KeepSafe was doing its job well.
Silas, meanwhile, had scurried off into the old Ramblings, gratefully getting out of the way of both Gringe and the snow. He knew where he was going; he wasn’t sure why, but he wanted to see his old place once again. Silas slipped down the familiar dark corridors. He was glad of his disguise, for no one paid any attention to a lowly worker, but Silas had not realized how little respect they were given. No one stood by to let him pass. People pushed him out of the way, allowed doors to slam in his face, and twice he was roughly told he should be out cleaning the streets. Maybe, thought Silas, being just an Ordinary Wizard was not so bad after all.
The door to the Heap room hung open forlornly. It appeared not to recognize Silas as he tiptoed into the room in which he had spent much of the last twenty-five years of his life. Silas sat down on his favorite homemade chair and surveyed the room sadly, lost in his thoughts. It looked