Septimus Heap, Book Six_ Darke - Angie Sage [73]
Those who had glimpsed these visions stood stunned for a few seconds, then broke into excited chatter. Marcia rounded on the crowd.
“Quiet!” she shouted.
The chatter died away instantly.
“This is serious Magyk. I have put this Safety Curtain in place to protect you, not to give you ten minutes of free entertainment.”
“We’re paying for it now!” shouted one brave soul from the safety of the crowd.
Marcia glared in the direction of the heckler and her voice took on an edge of steel. “You must understand that I have placed the Safety Curtain there to protect us all against a Darke Domaine that has engulfed the Palace.” She paused to let this information sink in and saw, with some satisfaction, the crowd’s mood become suitably serious and worried.
“I ask you to respect it. This is for your safety. For the safety of the Castle.”
The crowd was silent. A small girl at the front—whose hero was Marcia and who longed one day to be a Wizard—said in a very small voice, “Madam Marcia . . .”
Despite somewhat creaky knees, Marcia squatted down. “Yes?”
“What if the Darke ’maine gets out?”
“It won’t,” Marcia said confidently. “You mustn’t worry, you will be perfectly safe. The Palace is Quarantined. The Safety Curtain is there just in case.” She stood up and addressed the crowd. “I can do nothing more until sunrise. Tomorrow, at first light, I shall Fumigate the Palace and all will be well. I bid you good night.”
There were a few murmurings of “thank you” and “g’night ExtraOrdinary” as people wandered off to find their way home—somehow the lights in Wizard Way no longer seemed interesting. Marcia watched the crowd disperse with some relief. It worried her to have too many people near something as powerful as a Safety Curtain. The various Wizards, scribes and Apprentices also began to wander off to their homes.
“Mr. Bott!” Marcia called out as the rotund purveyor of cloaks scuttled off for his dinner.
“Drat,” Bertie muttered under his breath. But he dared not ignore the boss, as Marcia was known in the Wizard Tower. “Yes, Madam Marcia?” he said with a slight bow.
“No need for that, Mr. Bott,” snapped Marcia, who hated any sign of what she called bowing and scraping. “You will take the first watch at the fusion point. It is, as I am sure you know, always a possible weak spot. I will send a relief at midnight.”
“Midnight?” gasped Bertie, his stomach already rumbling at the thought of the sausages, mash and gravy that his wife always prepared on the Longest Night and was surely waiting for him at home.
Unlike Bertie Bott, Rose seemed loath to leave. She was gazing up at the Safety Curtain in wonder. “I’ll take the watch, Madam Marcia,” she offered.
“Thank you, Rose,” said Marcia. “But I have already asked Mr. Bott.”
Bertie ran a limp hand across his forehead. “Actually, Madam Marcia, I do believe I am feeling a little faint,” he said.
“Really?” said Marcia. “Well, if Rose takes your turn without any supper, she will faint. Whereas you, Mr. Bott, have plenty of . . . reserves.”
Rose took courage from Marcia’s half smile as she regarded the discomforted Bertie Bott. “I would love to take the watch, Madam Marcia,” she persisted. “Truly, I would. The Safety Curtain is amazing. I have never seen anything like it.”
Marcia gave in. She liked Rose and did not want to dent her enthusiasm. And after the conspicuous