Septimus Heap, Book Six_ Darke - Angie Sage [133]
As he jogged along he began to encounter Things, Magogs, Wizards, Witches and all manner of misshapen creatures—and he was glad to see every single one. Each and every one passed him by and paid him no attention. His Darke Disguise still did what it was meant to do—it presented Septimus as something Darke, something that was one of them.
Septimus reckoned he must now be walking beneath the Castle. He began to pass by archways protected by metal grills, which he suspected led into secret entrances somewhere in the Castle—entrances that even Marcia did not know about. There was a buzz of excitement in the air, which Septimus guessed was to do with the Darke events far above in the Castle itself. He passed by two Wizards who had left the Wizard Tower in disgrace a few years ago and heard one say excitedly, “Our time has come.”
And then, at last, he saw ahead of him a portico. Gold streaks in the lapis lazuli of its pillars glistened in the light of the torches and Septimus knew that this was the one that would take him into the antechamber to Dungeon Number One. Some minutes later, feeling so excited that he could hardly breathe, Septimus reached the portico.
As he went to step through, Tertius Fume—self-appointed busybody who terrified many of the ghosts—accosted him with a touch so cold that it felt burning hot. Septimus stopped, his heart beating fast. This put the Darke Disguise to its greatest test so far. Surely Tertius Fume would recognize him?
It appeared the ghost did not. He glared at Septimus with his piercing, goatlike eyes and demanded, “Who be you?”
Septimus was ready. “Sum.”
“How be you?”
“Darke.”
“What be you?”
“The Apprentice of the Apprentice of the Apprentice of DomDaniel.”
Tertius Fume looked surprised. He stopped his questioning and tried to figure out who exactly Septimus was. Septimus took advantage of the ghost’s confusion and stepped through the entrance. He was probably the first person to feel utter delight at finding himself in the large, round chamber lined with black bricks, stuffed full of depressed ghosts. Now all he had to do was to find one ghost in particular.
Septimus scanned the room and his heart leaped. There was Alther, sitting motionless on a stone bench set into the wall, his eyes closed.
Tertius Fume had given up trying to figure out who Septimus was—there were too many possibilities. The ghost followed him into the antechamber.
“Why come you here?” he demanded.
Septimus ignored Tertius Fume and began to make his way over to Alther. Tertius Fume followed like a storm cloud as Septimus dodged from side to side to avoid Passing Through the throng of ghosts. Eventually, with a feeling of elation, Septimus reached Alther’s side. He had imagined this moment many times as he had traveled through the Darke Halls. He had longed to see Alther’s expression as the ghost looked up and Saw through his Darke Disguise to the person he really was. But to his disappointment, nothing happened—Alther did not react. He seemed oblivious to his surroundings. His eyes remained closed and he sat still as a statue. Septimus knew that Alther had gone somewhere deep within himself.
Mindful of Marcellus’s instructions to speak only the set responses in the presence of the Darke—and with Tertius Fume hovering at his shoulder, he was certainly in that—Septimus stood wondering how to reach Alther. Tertius Fume solved his problem.
“Why come you here?” he demanded once again.
Loudly, hoping that Alther would recognize his voice, Septimus said, “I seek the Apprentice of DomDaniel.”
The moment that Alther recognized him was one of the best moments in Septimus’s life. Alther’s eyes opened slowly and Septimus saw recognition dawn. But Alther did not move an inch. His