Septimus Heap, Book Six_ Darke - Angie Sage [98]
The flustered figure of Marcellus Pye, with one shoe looking like a dog had mangled it, appeared from a gap between two houses and hurried toward them. “Thank goodness you are here.” He bowed slightly to Jenna, as he always did, and then succeeded in annoying her—as he always did. “Princess. I did not recognize you at first. You do realize you are wearing the cloak of a true witch?”
“Yes. I do, thank you,” said Jenna. “And before you ask, the answer is no, I will not take it off.”
Marcellus surprised her. “I should hope not. It may prove useful. And you will not be the first Witch Princess in the Castle.”
“Oh.” Jenna was not entirely pleased. She had rather assumed that she was the first Witch Princess.
“Marcellus,” said Septimus urgently. “Jenna needs to stay somewhere safe. I thought your SafeChamber—”
Marcellus did not let Septimus finish. “It is not safe here, Apprentice. Miss Djinn knows I have a SafeChamber—all Chambers are declared to the Chief Hermetic Scribe—and I fear our Chief Hermetic Scribe has already given away our secrets.” Marcellus shook his head sadly. He hated to see what had happened to the Manuscriptorium. “There are Things abroad already,” he continued. “They will come here soon enough, and Princess Jenna will be trapped like a rat. We must go somewhere the Darke Domaine will have trouble finding.”
“But the Darke Domaine is spreading fast,” said Septimus. “It will soon be everywhere. Jenna should leave the Castle.”
“Sep, I’m actually still here,” said Jenna, annoyed. “And I am not leaving the Castle.”
“Quite right, Princess,” said Marcellus. “Now, I believe that the Domaine will have some trouble getting into the Ramblings, and even once it’s inside it will not find it easy to spread. So I suggest we head there and . . . what is that Young Army term, Apprentice?”
“Regroup?” Septimus offered.
“Ah, yes. Regroup. Ideally, what we need is an overlooked little fleapit down a dead end, with an outside window.”
Jenna knew exactly where to find one. She pulled out the key that Silas had given her not so very long ago.
“What’s that?” asked Septimus.
“It’s a key, Sep,” teased Jenna.
“I know it’s a key. But where to?”
Jenna grinned. “An overlooked little fleapit down a dead end, with an outside window,” she said.
Marcellus Pye closed the door of his house behind him with a sigh and looked up at his dark windows. Septimus had insisted he blow out all his candles and it had made him feel quite depressed.
“Come now, we must go,” said Marcellus.
“I’ll Call Spit Fyre,” said Septimus. “Something must have spooked him. He can’t have gone far.”
Marcellus looked doubtful. He’d got along just fine without dragon flight for more than five hundred years and he wasn’t in a hurry to change things. But Septimus was already letting out the ululating Call, which reverberated off the densely packed houses on Snake Slipway and made the Alchemist shiver. It was a primeval sound, Marcellus thought, one that went back way beyond Alchemie.
They waited nervously on the slipway, glancing at the shadows, imagining movements.
After a few minutes Marcellus whispered, “I do not believe your dragon is coming, Septimus.”
“But he has to come when I Call,” said Septimus, worried.
“Maybe he can’t, Sep,” whispered Jenna.
“Don’t, Jen.”
“I didn’t meant that he was . . . well, I . . .” Jenna stopped. She could see she was only making things worse.
“Dragon or no dragon, we can wait no longer,” said Marcellus. “With care we can travel short distances through the Darke Domaine. My cloak has certain . . . abilities, shall we say, and you, Apprentice, have a small tinderbox that may prove useful.” Jenna shot Septimus a questioning look. “And you, Princess, will be protected well enough with your membership of . . .” Marcellus peered at the markings on her witch cloak. “My, you don’t do things by halves, do you? The Port Witch Coven! Now, we must go. We will travel by the Castle Canyons.”
“Castle