Septimus Heap, Book Six_ Darke - Angie Sage [107]
“Well said,” murmured Marcellus.
Jenna, Septimus, Simon and Lucy looked dumbfounded. They nodded sheepishly. Simon and Lucy went and sat by the fire, leaving Septimus to do the Anti-Darke his own way, which was also, Simon noticed, his way.
Jenna went over to the window. An unusually quiet rat was sitting on the windowsill, gazing out.
“Hello, Stanley,” she said.
“Hello, your Majestyness,” Stanley replied with a heavy sigh.
Jenna followed his gaze to the river. Across the water the lights of the Grateful Turbot Tavern could just be seen flickering through the trees, and far below the indigo ribbon of the river flowed slowly past.
“It’s clear out there,” said Jenna. “Isn’t it lovely? No Darke stuff.”
“Only a matter of time,” Stanley replied gloomily.
The flap of a wounded shoe sounded behind them. Marcellus joined them at the window. “Not so,” he said. “A Darke Domaine is stopped by flowing water, especially by that which is influenced by the tides of the moon.”
“Really?” said Jenna. “So . . . outside here, outside this window, will stay safe?”
Marcellus peered down. It was a precipitous drop straight down to the water’s edge. “I believe so,” he said. “The river runs close here.”
Jenna knew all about that. She had watched the river from her own little window in her cupboard for as long as she could remember. “It comes right up to the walls,” she said. “There’s no bank at all, just some pontoons for boats to tie up to.”
“Then there is nowhere for the Domaine to go,” said Marcellus.
“In that case,” said Stanley, who had been listening with great interest, “I’ll be off.”
“You’re going?” asked Jenna.
“I must, your Majestyness. I’ve got four ratlets out there all alone. Goodness knows what’s happening to them.”
“But how’re you going to get down?” Jenna looked out the window. It was a very long way down indeed.
“A rat has its ways, your Royal Personageness. Besides, I do believe I can see a drainpipe. If you’d be so kind as to open the window, I’ll be off.”
Jenna looked at Marcellus questioningly. “Is it safe to do that?” she asked.
“It is, Princess—for the moment at least. Of course, we do not know what will trickle down from the roof later. If the rat needs to go, it had better go now.”
Stanley looked relieved. “If you’ll do the honors, Sir, I’ll go right away,” he said.
Marcellus looked puzzled. “What honors?”
“He means open the window,” explained Jenna, who had spent enough time with Stanley to be able to translate.
Marcellus pulled the window ajar and a gust of cold fresh air blew into the room.
“What are you doing?” cried Sarah, aghast. “You’ll let it all in. Close the window now!”
Quickly the rat hopped onto the sill and peered down, trying to figure out the best way down the sheer rock face of the Ramblings.
“Stanley, please, could you—” Jenna began as Sarah came hurtling across the room, still holding her broom.
“Could I what?” asked Stanley edgily, eyeing Sarah with the suspicion of a rat used to trouble with brooms.
“Find Nicko—Nicko Heap, at Jannit’s boatyard. Tell him what’s happening. Tell him where we are. Please?”
Sarah slammed the window shut.
On the other side of the glass, Jenna saw Stanley’s little rat mouth open wide in surprise as he tumbled away into the night.
“Mum!” yelled Jenna. “What are you doing? You’ve killed him.”
“Better a rat than all of us, Jenna,” said Sarah. “Anyway, he’ll be all right. Rats always land on their feet.”
“That’s cats, Mum, not rats. Oh, poor Stanley!” Jenna peered down but she could see no sign of him anywhere. She sighed. She didn’t understand