Septimus Heap, Book Six_ Darke - Angie Sage [31]
Jenna always found the Long Walk—with its odd assortment of objects lining the walls—creepy, and that afternoon, in the failing light, she found it particularly so. So when Beetle took his old Ice Tunnel lamp (one of his mementos from his time at the Manuscriptorium) and flicked on its eerie blue light just as they passed a trio of grinning shrunken heads, Jenna shrieked out loud, then clapped her hand to her mouth.
“Sorry,” she said, a little embarrassed. “Got a bit spooked.”
“Whoooo,” said Beetle in a mock ghostly voice, holding the light beneath his chin and grinning.
“Oh don’t, Beetle—that’s even more horrible!”
Beetle swung the light away from his face and shone it down the wide, amazingly long corridor. Strong as its beam was, it did not reach the end. “Actually, I feel a bit spooked too,” he said in a half whisper. He glanced behind him. “I keep thinking something is kind of fluttering behind us . . . but I can’t see anything.”
Jenna looked around too. She had felt the same thing though she hadn’t wanted to say anything. The word fluttering reminded her of the two little birds lying trembling in their boxes. Loudly—to reassure herself more than anything—she said, “No, there’s nothing there.”
The UnSeen little bird rested a few minutes on one of the shrunken heads, its tiny wings tired with having to keep airborne for so long, and then continued following Jenna.
They walked on quickly past the door to Sarah Heap’s sitting room and a door with PALACE PAMPHLETS INC. scrawled on it in chalk, which was Silas’s office. Jenna was pleased to see both rooms were empty. They soon arrived at some narrow backstairs and climbed up to the first floor of the Palace. Here were mainly suites of private rooms at the rear of the building looking out over the river, and more public rooms—including the locked Throne Room—at the front. The wide upstairs corridor had a hushed, subdued quality to it. Thick, dusty curtains hung down in front of many of the draughty windows and doors and down the center ran what was known as the longest carpet in the world, which had actually been made there, in the corridor, by an itinerant group of carpet weavers.
They walked silently through the muffled gloom. Jenna was not expecting to see anyone but as they went past Maizie Small’s room, the door opened and Maizie rushed out.
“Oh!” said Maizie, surprised. “Oh, hello, Princess Jenna. And Beetle. I didn’t expect to bump into you.” Maizie cast a disapproving glance at Beetle. “Not upstairs.”
Beetle went pink but he hoped it was too dark for anyone to notice.
“You’re early, Maizie,” Jenna said, rather irritated.
“It’s the Longest Night tonight, Princess Jenna. I have to get every torch lit by nightfall, and I always help out with some of the displays on the Way. It’s a crazy rush.” Maizie took a small timepiece out of her pocket and consulted it hurriedly. “Now then, I’ve lit all new candles upstairs, and Mr. Pot’s coming in to do the downstairs. You’re all sorted.” A loud spattering of sleet on one of the roof lanterns made everyone look up. “Shocking day to be out,” said Maizie. “I must be off.”
Beetle and Jenna walked on in an awkward silence past the wide corridor that led to the large double doors—and the ghost of Sir Hereward—guarding Jenna’s bedroom. The faint figure of Sir Hereward raised his one ghostly arm in salute as they hurried by, and not long after they arrived at the foot of the attic stairs.
“Oh!” exclaimed Jenna. The entrance to the stairs was covered by an old red velvet curtain, which had been skewered to the wall by an assortment of large rusty nails. Jenna recognized Silas Heap’s handiwork immediately. “Dad must have just done this,” she whispered. “So he did listen to what I said . . .”
Beetle regarded the old curtain. “It’s a bit makeshift,” he said.
“That’s Dad for you.”
“I suppose he’s put some kind of SafetyGate on there,” said Beetle. “And