Septimus Heap, Book Six_ Darke - Angie Sage [61]
Feeling as though he was playing a “let’s pretend” game with Barney Pot, Septimus pinched his thumb and forefinger together and got hold of something elusive, barely there. It felt like pulling spiderwebs from a jar—spiderwebs that the spider in the jar did not want him to have. Septimus pulled hard, and as he raised his hand high he saw that he was drawing a long stream of gossamer-thin fabric from the tinderbox.
Marcellus Pye’s dark eyes shone with excitement in the candlelight. “You’ve done it . . .” he whispered, sounding very relieved. “You’ve found the Darke Disguise.”
The Darke Disguise reminded Septimus of one of Sarah Heap’s floaty scarves, although Sarah favored brighter colors. This was an indeterminate color that Sarah would have condemned as dull; it was also much larger than any scarf that Sarah possessed. Septimus kept on pulling it from the tinderbox, and the Darke Disguise kept on coming, falling in fine, weightless folds across his lap, tumbling down to the floor. Septimus began to wonder how long it actually was.
Marcellus answered his unspoken question. “Its length will be right for whatever you need. Now, Apprentice, a word of advice. I suggest you pull a thread from it now—it is easily done—and keep it with you. It will be as strong as a rope and, in my experience, it can be useful to have something a little Darke that comes easily to hand when one is venturing into these realms.”
Not for the first time, Septimus wondered what secrets Marcellus had in his past. But what he said made sense. He pulled a thread from the loose weave and began to wind it into a neat coil.
Marcellus looked on approvingly. “Confidently done. Remember, the Darke power of this exposed thread will begin to evaporate after about twenty-four hours. Do not keep it in your Apprentice belt; you do not want to upset any Charms or Spells. A pocket will do.”
Septimus nodded—he’d figured that out for himself.
“Now I suggest you return the Darke Disguise to the tinderbox,” said Marcellus. “Any time spent out, even in here, dilutes its power a fraction.”
As instructed by Marcellus, Septimus spoke the words “I knaht uoy, esaelp eriter,” and the Darke Disguise evaporated into the tinderbox like a wisp of smoke.
Marcellus regarded his Apprentice with satisfaction. “Very good indeed. It obeys you well. Just before you enter the Darke Portal, open the box and instruct it so—‘ehtolc Sum.’ Now that it Knows you it will stick to you like a second skin. Take care not to wear it away from the Darke, as it will soon dissolve into nothing, which is why I have to show it to you in this chamber. Use it well.”
Septimus nodded. “I will,” he said.
“And one last thing.”
“Yes?”
“The Darke Disguise may corrupt Magyk. Do not take this box into the Wizard Tower.”
Septimus was dismayed. “But . . . what about my Dragon Ring?”
“You are wearing the ring. It is part of you, and the Darke Disguise will protect all parts of you.” Marcellus smiled. “Do not worry, it will shine as brightly as ever for you, Apprentice, although others will not see it.”
Septimus looked at his ring, which was glowing in the gloom of the SafeChamber. He was relieved. He would feel lost without it.
Marcellus issued his last instruction. “When you return with Alther—as I know you will—you must bring the Disguise straight back here to store it. Understand?”
“I understand,” said Septimus. “Thank you. Thank you very much, Marcellus.” Carefully he put the tinderbox in the deepest, most secret pocket of his Apprentice tunic. “I’ll see you later. At the party,” he said.
“Party?” asked Marcellus.
“You know—my birthday party. With Jenna. At the Palace.”
“Ah, yes. Of course, Apprentice. I forget.”
Septimus rose to go. This time Marcellus Pye did not stop him.
Chapter 20
Cordon
Night had fallen while Septimus had been marooned in the SafeChamber. He stepped out into the cold, crisp air and headed up Snake Slipway, pulling his cloak tight and walking fast to try and rid himself of the chill that seemed to have settled