Septimus Heap, Book Six_ Darke - Angie Sage [132]
Wearily Septimus got to his feet.
The ghost looked up at him, excited. “You are my first Living. I watch from the shore. I saw those wicked people cast you adrift. I saw you go in,” she chattered with the pent-up energy of a Living girl herself. “I followed.” She saw Septimus’s questioning glance. “Yes, through the whirlpool. It is Where I Have Trod Before.”
Septimus felt he had to clear the name of all those on board Annie. “They did not cast me adrift. I came here on purpose, because I have to find a ghost. His name is Alther Mella. He wears ExtraOrdinary Wizard robes with a bloodstain over his heart. He is tall with white hair tied back in a ponytail. Do you know him?”
“No, I don’t.” The little girl sounded indignant. “The ghosts here are bad. Why would I want to know any of them? I only came back to this horrible place so that I can save you. Come on, I’ll show you how to get out.”
It took all Septimus’s willpower to refuse her offer. “No, thank you,” he said regretfully.
“But that’s not fair. I have come here to save you!” The ghost stamped her foot.
“Yes, I know,” said Septimus, a trifle irritably. He had prepared for many things in the Darke Halls but dealing with a little girl in a bad temper was not one of them. “Look, if you really want to save me then show me the way to Dungeon Number One. You do know the way?”
“Of course I do!” the ghost said.
“So please . . . will you show me?”
“No. Why should I? It’s a horrid place. I don’t like it.”
Septimus knew she had him in her power. He took a deep breath and counted to ten. He could not afford to say something wrong. He had to find a way to persuade her to show him the way to Dungeon Number One.
Suddenly the ghost reached out and he felt the cool waft of her touch across his Dragon Ring. “This is pretty. I have a ring.” She waggled her little finger with its cheap brass ring. “But it is not as pretty as this one.”
Septimus was not sure whether he should agree with her or not, so he said nothing.
The ghost looked up at him earnestly. “Your pretty dragon. You wear it on your right hand.”
“Yes, I do.”
“On your right hand,” she repeated.
“Yes. I know.” Septimus was exasperated. He had had enough chit-chat about rings.
And then, to Septimus’s dismay, she said, “You are a silly boy. You want to stay here, but I don’t. I am going now. Good-bye.”
And she was gone.
Septimus was alone once more. The little skull looked up at him and grinned.
Chapter 43
Dungeon Number One
Septimus sat next to the pile of bones feeling bad. Really bad. Really, really bad. He thought of Beetle, Sealed into the Hermetic Chamber, and himself marooned in the Darke Halls and he knew that there was no hope left for either of them.
He stretched out his hands and looked at his Dragon Ring, the only thing he had left for company. He saw the warm yellow glow and the green emerald eye and he thought it was true; it was a pretty ring. And suddenly something clicked—he understood the little ghost’s chattering about the ring. He wore his Dragon Ring on his right hand—he knew he did. He could even feel it on his right hand, on the index finger, where it always was. And yet, when he looked at his hands, the ring appeared to be on his left index finger. Septimus stared at his hands, uncomprehending. And then he understood. That was it. The ghost been giving him a clue—in the Darke Halls everything was Reversed, so when he had thought he was taking the left turning, he had in fact been taking the right. So maybe Simon had not deceived him after all. Maybe . . .
Septimus leaped to his feet and, with renewed hope, he set off once more. He took the apparent right-hand entrance of the first three and found himself in yet another great Hall. He speeded up, almost running in his wish to discover if this really was the secret to finding his way to Dungeon Number One. After choosing an apparent right-hand passageway leading from a small archway that very soon divided into two flights of steps—of which he took the right-hand