Septimus Heap, Book Six_ Darke - Angie Sage [13]
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However, that day in the Wizard Tower it seemed that, dillop or not, everything did revolve around him. A fourteenth birthday for an Apprentice was a special one—being twice the Magykal number seven—and naturally the entire population of the Wizard Tower wanted to wish Septimus a happy birthday, particularly as there was no birthday banquet to look forward to that evening. Sarah Heap’s determination to have Septimus at the Palace that night had not gone down well at the Wizard Tower.
However, as Septimus went about his morning errands—delivering requested Charms to various Wizards, Finding a lost pair of glasses, helping out with a tricky spell on floor four—he detected a melancholy undertone to all the birthday wishes. The Wizard Tower was notorious for gossip, and it seemed that every Wizard knew that Septimus was about to embark upon his Darke Week—the one week that separates the Ordinary from the ExtraOrdinary Apprenticeship. This was despite the fact that the timing of the Darke Week was meant to be a secret.
And so, along with the many “happy birthday” greetings, there were also fervent wishes for “and many more of them, Apprentice.” On his rounds Septimus was offered a varied assortment of gifts, all unwrapped—as was the tradition among Wizards in order to avoid the Placement of creatures, an ancient Darke trick that had once given Marcia some trouble. A pair of purple hand-knitted “lucky” socks, a bag of self-renewing banana chews and three Magykal hairbrushes were among those he accepted, but the vast majority were SafeCharms, all of which he politely refused.
As Septimus took the stairs down to the Wizard Tower Hall on his very last errand, he felt unsettled by the sadness beneath the birthday wishes. It was odd, he thought; it felt as if someone close to him had died or—it occurred to him as he stepped off the stairs—as if he were about to die. Septimus walked slowly across the soft, Magykal floor, reading the messages, which were wishing him not only A VERY HAPPY FOURTEENTH BIRTHDAY, APPRENTICE but also BE SAFE, APPRENTICE. He sighed—even the floor was at it.
Septimus knocked on the door of the duty Wizard’s room, which was tucked in beside the huge silver doors that led out from the Wizard Tower. Hildegarde Pigeon, a young woman in pristine Ordinary sub-Wizard robes, opened it. Septimus smiled; he liked Hildegarde.
“Happy birthday!” Hildegarde greeted him.
“Thanks.”
“It’s a big day, fourteen. And Princess Jenna’s birthday too.”
“Yes.” Septimus felt a bit guilty. He’d forgotten to get her a present.
“We’ll be seeing her later, apparently. About midday, Madam Overstrand said. She didn’t seem very pleased, though.”
“Marcia’s not very pleased about anything at the moment,” said Septimus, wondering why Jenna hadn’t told him about her visit to the Wizard Tower.
Hildegarde sensed that all was not well. “So . . . are you having a good day?”
“Well, yes, I suppose. I’ve just been up to the DisEnchanting Chamber. Bet you’re glad you’re not there anymore.”
Hildegarde smiled. “Too right,” she said. “But it did the job. And it will for Syrah too, don’t you worry.”
“Hope so,” said Septimus. “I’ve come for my boots.”
“Oh, yes. Hang on a mo.” Hildegard disappeared into the tiny room and emerged carrying a box with “Terry Tarsal, by appointment” written on it in gold letters. Terry had recently upgraded his image.
Septimus lifted the lid and peered inside. He looked relieved. “Oh good,” he said. “He repaired my old ones. Marcia was threatening to get him to make me a new pair in green with purple laces.”
“Oh dear.” Hildegarde smiled. “Not a good look.”
“No. Definitely not.”
“There’s a letter for you too,” Hildegarde handed over a creased and slightly damp envelope.
Septimus looked at it. He couldn’t place the writing but it looked oddly familiar. And then he realized