Septimus Heap, Book Six_ Darke - Angie Sage [55]
Beetle felt sorry for the scribes working while Wizard Way was abuzz, but he was pleased they were still there. He had been worried that they might have left early that night, as they always had done in his time as Front Office Clerk and General Dogsbody. But Jillie Djinn’s grip on the Manuscriptorium had tightened since Beetle left. She did not believe in leaving early—especially to have fun.
Two Wizards, sisters Pascalle and Thomasinn Thyme, stepped forward. “We are happy to be your escort, Mr. Beetle, if you need one.”
Beetle thought he could use all the help he could get. “Thank you,” he said. He took a deep breath and pushed open the door. There was a loud ping and the door counter clicked over to the next number. The Front Office was a shambles and it made Beetle feel sad. The large desk, which he had kept so neat and organized, was a disgusting mess of papers and half-eaten sweets, the floor was unswept and sticky underfoot and there was a distinct smell of something small and furry having died under one of the many untended stacks of papers.
Beetle’s gaze traveled around the dingy room, taking in the flimsy half-wood, half-glass panel that separated the Front Office from the Manuscriptorium itself, the ancient grayish paint peeling off the walls and the festoons of cobwebs looping down from the ceiling. He wondered if perhaps he hadn’t noticed how run down it all was when he had worked there. But one thing he knew he would have noticed was the state of the small, reinforced door behind the desk that led to the Wild Book and Charm Store—it was nailed shut, with two thick planks across it. Beetle wondered how anyone managed to get in to clean. He presumed they didn’t. The state of the Wild Book and Charm Store did not bear thinking about.
Suddenly the half-glass door that led into the Manuscrip-torium flew open and the Chief Hermetic Scribe bustled out. She carried a large handkerchief on which, Beetle noticed, in addition to the letters CHS, her collection of qualifications were carefully embroidered around the edge in different colors. So that’s what Jillie Djinn did in her long evenings alone in her rooms at the top of the Manuscriptorium, thought Beetle.
Jillie Djinn blinked in surprise at the sight of Beetle flanked by two Wizards.
“Yes?” she snapped.
Beetle had been clutching the Emissary scroll tightly, waiting for this very moment. Quickly he twice-tapped the scroll and held it at arm’s length. With a faint buzz a flicker of purple ran around the edges of the scroll, a waft of heat hit him, and suddenly he was holding the full-size version. It felt surprisingly thin and delicate (because in Magyk matter can neither be created nor destroyed), but Beetle thought that only added to its air of mystery and importance. He caught Jillie Djinn’s gaze and saw she was, for a moment, impressed—then her default expression of mild irritation quickly reasserted itself.
Beetle was determined to be scrupulously polite. “Good evening, Chief Hermetic Scribe,” he said. “I am here as Emissary of the ExtraOrdinary Wizard.”
“So I see,” Jillie Djinn replied coolly. “And what does she want now?”
Getting into his official role with some relish, Beetle began to read from the words busily arranging themselves on the scroll.
“Please be informed that a Castle Call Out is in progress. The presence of all Indentured Scribes is Called for with immediate effect,” he proclaimed.
Jillie Djinn went straight to major annoyance.
“You can tell the ExtraOrdinary Wizard that important work is in progress here,” she snapped. “Manuscriptorium scribes will not drop everything and rush off on the whim of the ExtraOrdinary Wizard.” From one of her many pockets she took out a small timepiece and squinted