Septimus Heap, Book Six_ Darke - Angie Sage [126]
Nicko knew for sure that Annie was not one of these. He also knew that he was not one of those skippers who understood the safe distance from the whirlpool, although he hoped that he could tell the signs that they were being dragged too close. And so, as the forbidding rocky outcrops that heralded the entrance to Bleak Creek came into view, Nicko began to feel nervous—but not as nervous as Septimus.
Septimus was sitting alone in the prow of the boat, just behind the bowsprit and its large red sail that billowed in the wintry wind. He had never—not even on the Do-or-Die Night Exercises in the Forest—felt so scared. He glanced down at a small sheet of paper covered with Marcellus’s neat handwriting that set out some bullet-pointed questions and answers, which he was trying to fix in his head. They were not unlike the Young Army Pre-Exercise Pointers (or PEPs) that the boys had had to memorize and then chant before each expedition. This sense of déjà vu added to Septimus’s feeling of doom, but it also meant that he fell back into his old Young Army ways of focusing on survival—and nothing else. And so, as he sat behind the bowsprit, Septimus gazed out at the iron-gray water and chanted under his breath, learning the responses he must use when challenged by anything Darke.
“Who be you? Sum.”
“How be you? Darke.”
“What be you? The Apprentice of the Apprentice of the Apprentice of DomDaniel.”
“Why come you here? I seek the Apprentice of DomDaniel.”
Septimus was so absorbed that he did not notice Jenna and Nicko slipping into the spaces on either side of him. They waited patiently until he had stopped muttering and then Jenna spoke.
“We are coming with you,” she said.
Septimus looked shocked. “What?”
“Nik and I . . . we have decided to come with you. We don’t want you to go alone,” said Jenna.
This had the opposite effect from what Jenna had intended—Septimus suddenly felt totally alone. He realized that they had no idea about the utter impossibility of their request. He shook his head.
“Jen, you can’t. It’s not possible. Believe me.”
Jenna saw the look in Septimus’s eyes. “Okay . . . I believe you. But if we can’t come with you, then I at least want to know where you are going. Marcellus knows, even Simon knows, so I think Nik and I deserve to know too.”
Septimus did not reply. He stared out at the water and wished that Jenna and Nik would leave him alone. He needed to disconnect.
But Jenna would not let him. She reached beneath her witch’s cloak, took out The Queen Rules and opened it to a page she knew well. She thrust it under Septimus’s nose.
“Look,” she said, stabbing her finger at a grubby, well-worn paragraph.
Reluctantly Septimus squinted at the tiny type. Then he gave in. He got out his birthday present from Marcia and moved the Enlarging Glass across the page. He read:
“The P-I-W has a Right To Know all facts pertaining to the security and wellbeing of the Castle and the Palace. The ExtraOrdinary Wizard (or, in absentia, the ExtraOrdinary Apprentice) is required to answer all the P-I-W’s questions truthfully, fully and without delay.”
With his head full of what he had to do, Septimus didn’t immediately recognize what he was looking at—and then it came back to him. He remembered the morning of his birthday, which seemed so far away now. He smiled as he recalled Marcia’s comment about “the wretched red book with its tiddly-squiddly type, the bane of every ExtraOrdinary Wizard’s life.” So this was what she had meant. And in remembering the Wizard Tower and the Castle as it had been, and with Marcia’s beautiful birthday gift in his hand, Septimus somehow felt less alone. He felt part of everything