Flyte

"What on earth is that?" Marcia demanded crossly, quickly forgetting how relieved she had been the night before to see Septimus and Jenna back safely. But Marcia was not feeling her best. She had woken to see the Shadow lounging on her pillow. This was not unusual, for over the past few months the Shadow had been growing more visible, especially first thing in the morning. But it had always been silentuntil that moment. What had actually woken Marcia was the sound of a low, sepulchral voice calling her name over and over.



"Marcia ... Marcia ... Marcia..."



In a fit of anger, Marcia had thrown one of her best purple python shoes at the ghastly Thing, but the shoe had, of course, gone straight through it. The shoe had shot across the room and smashed a small glass pot that Alther had given Marcia when, as his Apprentice, she had finally mastered a particularly difficult Projection. The broken pot had upset Marcia more than she expected, and she had stormed downstairs in a bad temper. She had had quite enough of the Shadow, she decided as she threw open the kitchen door and yelled at the coffeepot to get a move on will you. After breakfast she decided she would go straight down to old Weasal and insist on getting the Stopperthe very last piece of the ShadowSafeimmediately.



"Septimus," said Marcia in a loud voice.



Septimus sat up with a start and for a moment could not remember where he was. Marcia soon reminded him. "The Wizard Tower," she said, folding her arms crossly, "is a place of Magyk. Not a menagerie."



"What?" asked Septimus.



"Look at my best blanketsfull of holes. I don't know where you found that giant moth, but you can take it straight back."



"What giant moth?" asked Septimus, wondering if he'd missed something.



"Huh?" mumbled Jenna, emerging from under the pile of blankets.



"Oh, hello, Jenna," said Marcia. "Nice to see you back. The rat saidwell, that wretched rat said a lot of things, most of it rubbish as far as I could tellbut he did say that you made it to the MidSummer Visit. Well done."



"Thank you," said Jenna sleepily. She sat up and stuck her foot through a large hole in the blanket. She wiggled her toes as if surprised to see them and suddenly something green pounced. "Ouch!" she yelled.



"Spit Fyre!" gasped Septimus, taken aback. Aunt Zelda had told him that the dragon would grow in sudden spurts but he had not expected this. Spit Fyre had eaten his way out of the dragon-proof bag and was now the size of a small dog. Septimus grabbed hold of the dragon and pulled him off Jenna's foot. "You all right, Jen?" he asked.



"Yes. I think sostill got ten toes," Jenna rubbed her foot, which was a little scratched from the dragon's claws. "Sep," she said, looking at Spit Fyre, whose small green tongue was flicking over Septimus's hand, hoping for breakfast, "he wasn't as big as that last night, was he?"



"No," muttered Septimus. He could tell this was going to be trouble and he hardly dared look at Marcia. He knew what she would say. And, sure enough, she said it. "I told you, Septimus. No pets. No parrots, no iguanas, no tortoises, no"



"Butbut Spit Fyre is not a pet. He's a Magykal tool. Like the practice rabbit in the courtyard."



"Septimus, a dragon is nothing like a practice rabbit. You have no idea of the trouble"



As if to prove Marcia right, Spit Fyre wriggled out of Septimus's grasp and made a beeline for Marcia's feet. He had spotted the purple python shoes. Something in Spit Fyre's ancient dragon memory had just told him that dragons and snakes were enemiesand a nice purple snake would make a good snack before breakfast too. It did not occur to the two-day-old dragon that Marcia's shoes were only the skin of a snake, or that the feet inside them belonged to an irritable and powerful Wizard who had a particular fondness for her shoes and no fondness whatsoever for baby dragons. A streak of glistening green shot across the floor, latched itself onto Marcia's right foot and started chewing.



"Ow!" yelled Marcia, frantically shaking her foot. But Spit Fyre had learned his lesson since Septimus had shaken him off his finger two days earlier. He hung on tight and sank his sharp little dragon teeth into the snakeskin.



"Teeth Releath!" Marcia spluttered with some difficulty. Spit Fyre dug his teeth in harder.



"Teese Release!" Marcia yelled. Spit Fyre hung on and gave the python skin a good shake.



"Teeth Release!" Marcia shouted, getting it right at last. Spit Fyre let go of the purple python shoe, and, as if purple snakeskin was now of no interest to him at all, the dragon sauntered back to Septimus's side, sat down and regarded Marcia with a baleful expression.



Marcia collapsed onto a chair nursing her foot and gazing at her ruined shoe. Septimus and Jenna held their breath. What would she say?



"I suppose, Septimus," said Marcia after a long pause, "I suppose thatthat pest has Imprinted you?"



"Um. Yes," admitted Septimus.



"I thought so." She sighed heavily. "It's not as if I don't have enough to worry about, Septimusdo you know how big they get?"



"I'm sorry," muttered Septimus. "I promise I'll look after him. Really I will. I'll feed him and housebreak him and exercise him andand everything." She looked unimpressed.



"I didn't mean to get one," said Septimus gloomily. "He hatched from Jenna's rock."



"Did he?" Marcia calmed down a little. "Did he really? A Human Hatching ... well, well, that's quite something. Anyway, he will have to stay in your room for the time being. I'm not having him messing up any more things." Andalthough Marcia did not want to tell Septimusshe did not want the impressionable dragon tainted by any contact with the Shadow. If this was to be Septimus's companion then it must be kept as free from Darke Magyk as possible.



Marcia insisted on hearing all the details of Jenna's escape from Simon, and when she was told about the flight of the Dragon Boat to the Castle, she looked just a little triumphant. "So I am now the Keeper," she muttered.



Septimus was surprised. "I don't think so," he said. "I'm sure Aunt Zelda is still the Keeper..."



"Nonsense," Marcia retorted. "How can she be? Stuck miles away out on those Marshes. The Dragon Boat is here at the Castleand quite right, too. She's a sensible boat, that dragon. Well, this Keeper won't let her down. Catchpole!"



Catchpole pushed the door open nervously. "You called, Madam Marcia?" He gulped.



"Yes. Take thirteen Wizards down to the boatyard at once. They are to guard the Dragon Boat with their lives. Got that?"



"Thirteen Wizards ... Dragon Boat ... um, guard with lives. Er, yes. Thank you Madam Marcia. Will that be all?"



"I should think that is quite enough for you to manage at one time, Catchpole."



"Oh. Yes. Thank you, Madam Marcia."



"Ohand Catchpole!"



Catchpole stopped his anxious retreat. "Er ... yes, Madam Marcia?"



"When you've done that you may join us for breakfast."



Catchpole's face fell. "Oh," he said. And then, remembering his manners, "Oh, thank you, Madam Marcia. Thanks so much."



Breakfast was something of an ordeal for Catchpole. He sat awkwardly at the table, unsure of how to behave with Jenna and Septimus, let alone Marcia, who terrified him.



"I said keep the Wizards out, Catchpole, not my Apprentice. Can't you tell the difference?" Marcia told him crossly, while the stove let the coffee boil over for the second time that week. The stove was never at its best in the morning, and it always felt tense and anxious at breakfast. It was not helped by the fact that the coffeepot was upset at being shouted at and was not concentrating on the job at hand. To top it all off, there was a dragon chewing one of its feet. There was a loud hiss as the coffee hit the stove's hot plate and spilled onto the floor.



"Clean," snapped Marcia. A cloth leaped off the sink and quickly mopped up the mess.



Catchpole ate very little breakfast. He sat twisting his plaid hat in his hands, looking anxiously at Spit Fyre, who was in the corner by the stove, loudly gulping down great mouthfuls of porridge.



After breakfastwhich for Spit Fyre was two roast chickens, three loaves of bread, a bucket of porridge, a tablecloth, a gallon of water and Catchpole's hatSeptimus, Jenna and Catchpole sat at the table and listened to the sounds of Marcia taking the dragon upstairs, pushing it into Septimus's room and barricading the door. There was an awkward silence around the table. Catchpole sat holding a pair of damp, detachable earflaps from his hat, which Spit Fyre had coughed up shortly after he had snatched the hat from Catchpole's grasp and swallowed it.



Jenna stood up. "Excuse me," she said, "but I think I'd better get back to Mum and Dad now. You coming too, Sep?"



"Maybe later, Jen. I'll see what Marcia wants me to do first."



"I'll tell you want I want you to do," said Marcia, coming back into the kitchen, somewhat disheveled. "You are to go straight down to the Manuscriptorium and get a copy of The Draxx Dragon Training Manual. You want the original Wizard Fireproof Editiondon't let them put you off with the cheap paper one, it won't last five minutes."



"It's all right," said Septimus airily. "I've got this." He waved his copy of How to Survive Dragon Fostering: A Practykal Guide.



"That rubbish!" Marcia snorted. "Where on earth did you get that?"



"Aunt Zelda gave it to me," muttered Septimus, "and she said I should get"



"The Winged Lizard's Almanac of the Early Years," Marcia finished his sentence for him. "That's a load of rubbish too. Anyway, you won't find any of those as they were printed on some very flammable paper. It has to be Draxx, Septimus, nothing else will do."



To the accompaniment of some ominous thumps coming from Septimus's bedroom, Jenna and Septimus made a hasty exit from the ExtraOrdinary Wizard's rooms and set off in search of Draxx.



Jenna and Septimus walked along Wizard Way, half expecting a black horse and rider to appear again, but all seemed perfectly normal. It was midmorning by now, the sun shone down between a few drifting white clouds and the Way was busy with clerks on important errandsor looking as if they wereand shoppers browsing through the stacks of books and parchments laid out on tables outside the shops.



"What's up with Marcia?" asked Jenna as they neared the Manuscriptorium. "She's even more grumpy than usual."



"I know," said Septimus unhappily. "I think the Shadow is beginning to take her overI wish there was something I could do."



"Look, Sep," said Jenna, concerned, "maybe you should stay with us at the Palace for a while."



"Thanks, Jen," replied Septimus, "but I can't leave Marcia alone with that awful Shadow following her around. She needs me."



Jenna smiledshe knew Septimus would say that. "Well, if it gets too horrible with Marcia, you must come straight to the Palace and tell Mum, promise?"



"Promise." Septimus gave her a hug. "Bye, Jen. Say hello to Mum and Dad from me. Tell them I'll come and see them later." He watched Jenna carry on up the Way toward the Palace until she had safely reached the gate. Then he pushed open the Manuscriptorium door with its familiar ping and walked into the dingy front office.



"Wotcha, Sep.'" a cheery voice came from under the desk.



"Hello, Beetle." Septimus grinned.



"What can I do you for, oh wise Apprentice?" Beetle's head appeared above the edge of the desk. "Heyyou couldn't do me a quick Find Spell, could you? I've lost Old Foxy's best pen. He's back there having a blue fit."



"Well, I shouldn't reallyoh, here, use my Magnet." Septimus took a small red magnet out of his Apprentice belt and handed it to Beetle. "Hold that with the open end pointing to where you think the pen might be and then think hard about the pen. You need to be quite close, thoughthe Magnet's not very strong. I'll be getting a better one when I've finished my FindersSeekers Project."



"Thanks, Sep." Beetle took the Magnet and disappeared back under the desk. A few moments later he emerged triumphantly with a slim black pen stuck on the end of it. "Saved my bacon, Sep. Thanks." Beetle gave Septimus back his Magnet. "You come down for anything special? Can I get you anything?"



"Er, I need The Draxx Dragon Training Manual. If you've got one."



"Wizard Waterproof, Wizard Fireproof, Wizard Advanced? Talking print or moving pictures? Deluxe or Economy Edition? Green or red cover? New or used? Big or"



"Wizard Fireproof," interrupted Septimus. "Please."



Beetle sucked his teeth. "Hmm. Tricky. Don't know if we've got that one."



"But you said"



"Well, of course in theory we've got 'em. But in practice we haven't. The Draxx is very rare, Sep. Most of 'em got eaten pretty quick. Or burned. Except for the Wizard Fireproof, I s'pose." Then, seeing Septimus's look of disappointment, Beetle whispered, "Here, seeing as it's you, I'll let you into the Wild Book and Charm Store. That's where it will be if we have one. You can have a look for yourself. Follow me."



Septimus squeezed past the large desk, and, glancing around to check no one had seen them, Beetle unlocked a tall narrow door concealed in the wooden paneling that lined the outer office. Beetle pushed the door openwhich Septimus noticed was lined with heavy planksand put his finger to his lips. "Gotta keep the noise down, Sep. Not meant to be in here. Don't make any sudden movements, okay?"



Septimus nodded and followed Beetle into the Wild Book and Charm Store. Beetle closed the door behind them, and Septimus caught his breathhe felt as if he were back in the Forest, surrounded by wolverines all over again. The Wild Book and Charm Store was dimly lit and feral-smelling. It consisted of two long lines of towering parallel shelves fronted with iron bars, behind which the Wild Books were crowded together. As Septimus cautiously followed Beetle along the narrow aisle he was followed by a chorus of low growls, scratchings and rustlings, as the books jostled behind the rusty bars.



"Excuse the mess," whispered Beetle, scooping up an assorted pile of ripped and teeth-marked Charms which had lumps of fur stuck to them and were covered in what looked to Septimus like bloodstains. "Had a bit of a punch-up last night between the Charms from an Ahriman Aardvark Enchantment Guide and a Wolverine Hex Pamphlet. Some idiot who doesn't know their alphabet put them together. Not a pretty sight. Now let me see ... Dinosaurs ... Drosophilano, that's too far. Aha, Dragons should be here if we've got any. You have a look and see what you can find. I'll just go and check no one's looking for me up front. Don't want anyone to get suspicious." With that, Beetle scuttled off, leaving Septimus surrounded by fur, feathers and scales.



Holding his nose tightly, partly to keep out the smell, but also because he felt a huge sneeze coming on, Septimus peered into the gloom hoping to see something with Draxx written on it. The books did not like being stared at. They shifted about and one or two of the larger, more hairy ones emitted low, threatening growls. But was no sign of the Draxx, or anything to do with dragons at all.



Septimus was looking through the bars at a scaly book with no name on it when Beetle tapped him on his shoulder.



"Arrgh!" yelped Septimus.



"Shhh," hissed Beetle. "Your brother's here."



"What's Nicko want? Did he say?"



"Not Nicko. Simon."



The Hermetic Chamber



Simon!" breathed Septimus. "What's he doing hereagain?"



"He's seeing Foxy's dad. As usual." Beetle sniffed disapprovingly. "Thick as thieves, those two are. Here, come with me." Beetle grabbed hold of Septimus's sleeve and pulled him along to the very end of the caged rows. Beetle knelt down beside an air vent and immediately jumped back up again, unnerved by a loud hiss from the Zombie Snake Anti-Venom Formulae. "Eurgh, I hate snakes. Gave me a shock, that did. Here, Sep, you don't mind snakesyou go there. You'll hear what's going on better anyway."



"Hear what, Beetle?" asked Septimus, squeezing in between him and the Zombie Snake Anti-Venom Formulae.



Beetle pointed to an air vent in the wall. "The Hermetic Chamber is through there," he explained. "You knowOld Foxy's room where they do all the secret stuff. I'm meant to keep the air vent sealed up but, well it gets pretty whiffy in here sometimes and you need a bit of a breeze going through. Listen, Sep, you can hear everything."



Septimus knelt down beside Beetle and suddenly Simon's voice came through as clearly as if he were standing next to him. He sounded irritated. "Look, Hugh, I'm telling you, there's something wrong with this Flyte Charm. It's totally unpredictable; frankly, I'm lucky to be here in one piece. I nearly dropped my new assistant in the Quake Oozemind you, that would have served the ungrateful little tyke right. I offer him the chance of a lifetime and he changes his mind mid-Flyte."



"You're not meant to carry passengers." Septimus heard the Chief Hermetic Scribe's disapproving voice. "The Art of Flyte is not a taxi service."



"Oh, don't be so prissy, Hugh. Sort it out, will you? I'm sure you can do something. Just beef it up a bit."



"Beef it up a bit?" Hugh Fox's incredulous tones drifted through the air vent. "This is the Lost Art of Flytethe most arcane Art of alland you come in here and tell me to beef it up. This Charm is the oldest I have ever seen; look at the goldtaken from the golden threads spun by the Spiders of Aurum, no lessso pure and soft that you hardly dare touch it."



"Oh for goodness' sake, Hugh." Simon sounded exasperated. "However wonderful the wretched thing may be, it's no good if it nearly kills the person using it. Anyway, I'm not so sure that it really is the Flyte Charmit doesn't do half of what you told me it would."



Hugh Fox spluttered his reply. "I can assure you, Simon, that this is the real thing. I have been researching this for years and it was exactly where I expected it to beConcealed with a Darke Unseen within the cover of this book." Septimus heard Hugh Fox thump something emphatically. "You have to show the Charm some respect, Simon, not beef it up."



"Look, Fox." Simon's voice sounded threatening. "I'd advise you to show me some respect. This is the Big Day. Everything's very nearly in place. If all goes well you'll have a new ExtraOrdinary Wizard to deal with. A proper one. And, even if I do say so myself, a decent Apprenticeyours truly, no lessnot some Young Army boy who can't tell a cracked spell from an old sock."



"I've told you before, Simon," Hugh Fox said dourly, "I don't get involved in politics. If you ask me we've had enough ExtraOrdinary Wizard changes. There's nothing wrong with the one we've got. The lad's all right too."



Simon's voice became ice-cold. "I wouldn't say any more if I were you, Fox. Don't want to find yourself Consumed, do you?"



"What?" gasped Hugh Fox, sounding terrified.



"You heard. Just get that Charm sorted. This is serious. I'll be back in an hour and I expect it to be working."



"I'll see what I can do," said Hugh Fox sullenly.



"Just do it, Fox. Anyway, you'll be pleased to know it's my last trip. I have the final piecesee?"



There was a gasp from the Chief Hermetic Scribe as something hollow was tapped and Simon laughed.



"Don't do that," said Hugh Fox. "I don't care who that was, it's not respectful."



"Don't tell me what to do," Simon snarled. "Anyway, you'll find out who it wasissoon enough. Now open the door, will you?"



There was a loud hiss and then silence.



"Jumped-up little" The remainder of the Chief Hermetic Scribe's opinion of Septimus's eldest brother was drowned out by the loud thump of a large book being slammed shut.



"Did you hear that?" Septimus whispered to Beetle as they got up and picked their way back between the Wild Books and Charms stacks. "What does he mean, new ExtraOrdinary Wizard?"



"Look, Sep," said Beetle as they reached the door to the outer office. "Everyone here thinks he's a loony. We get lots of those.



Think they're going to rule the world with a few Darke Spells."



"Maybe he is," said Septimus.



Beetle did not reply. Safely back in the front office, he turned to Septimus and said, "Tell you what, I'll go and get Old Foxy out of the way for a few minutes. Then you can nip in and get the Flyte Charm. That'll cramp his style a bit. How about that?"



Beetle disappeared into the gloom of the Manuscriptorium. In a moment he was back, frantically beckoning to Septimus. "C'mon, Sep. Quick, we're in luck. Old Foxy's having one of his turnshe's gone to lie down. Follow me."



Septimus was a familiar figure in the Manuscriptorium, and none of the scribes even looked up as he followed Beetle to the passage that led to the Chief Hermetic Scribe's Chamber. The passage was narrow and pitch-black, for it turned back on itself seven times to avoid any direct line of flight from the Chamber. At the end of the passage Beetle and Septimus found themselves in a small plain-white room lit by a single candle. The room was circular in order to avoid any rogue spells or charms getting lodged in the corners and was sparsely furnished. A large round table took up most of the space, and an old-looking glass, taller than Septimus, was propped up against the wall. But Septimus noticed none of this when he walked in behind Beetlehis eyes were immediately fixed on what lay upon the table. Not on the Flyte Charm, which was still attached to Simon's belt and carelessly thrown down upon the table, but upon the thick book that lay beside it.



"That's Marcia's book!" Septimus gasped.



"Shh!" whispered Beetle.



"But it is," Septimus whispered excitedly. "She had it with her when DomDaniel tricked her into coming back to the Castle in the Big Freeze. DomDaniel took it and she hasn't seen it since. She's been looking for it everywhere." He picked up the book. "Lookthis is it, The Undoing of the Darkenesse."



Beetle looked confused. "So how come Foxy's got it?" he asked.



"Well, he won't have it for much longer," declared Septimus. "Marcia will be straight down to get her book back when I tell her where it is."



Beetle made a mental note to make himself scarce the moment he saw Marcia anywhere near the Manuscriptorium.



"Just get the Charm, Sep, and let's get out of here," said Beetle, worried that Hugh Fox might suddenly reappear.



The Flyte Charm was a simple gold arrow. It was smaller than Septimus had expected and more delicate, with intricate patterns wrought from the gold. Its flights were made of white goldthey were curiously bent and misshapen, and Septimus wondered if this was why Simon had been having trouble. He reached out to pick it up and there was a sudden movement below his outstretched hand. Simon's belt twisted away, Transformed into a small red snake with three black stars along the back of its head, and coiled itself tightly around the Flyte Charm. It hissed and reared up, preparing to strike.



"Aargh!" Beetle yelled in horror then immediately clapped his hand over his mouth to stifle the shout. But it was too latesomeone in the Manuscriptorium had heard him.



"Hello-ooo..." A hesitant voice came from the seven-turn passage.



"Is there anybody there?"



"Sep," said Beetle urgently. "Sepwe've got to get out of here. Come on."



"Coo-eee," came the voice again.



"It's all right, Partridge," Beetle called out. "The Extra-Ordinary's Apprentice took a wrong turn. I'm just bringing him out now."



"Oh. Good. Was a bit worried there, Beetle. Mr. Fox told me to keep an eye on the Chamber."



"No problem, Partridge. Be out in a moment. No need to come in," Beetle called out cheerily, and then in a low voice, "Sep, just get a move on, will you?" Septimus was still eyeing the snake, unwilling to let the Flyte Charm go.



"Oh, hello, Mr. Fox, sir." The high-pitched voice of Partridge suddenly echoed around the Chamber. Septimus and Beetle stared at each other in panic.



"What are you doing? Get out of my way, Partridge," came the irritated tones of the Chief Hermetic Scribe.



"Oops ... er, sorry, sir," squeaked Partridge, "was that your foot?"



"Yes, it is my foot, Partridge. Just get off it, will you?"



"Yes. Yes, of course I will, Mr. Fox, sir. Sorry. Sorry."



"For goodness' sake get back to your desk and stop saying sorry."



"Sorry. I mean, yes, Mr. Fox. If I can just squeeze past please, if you don't mind, Mr. Fox. Sorry."



"Oh, give me patience..."



In the time it took for Partridge to untangle himself from Hugh Fox, apologize yet again and flee to the safety of his desk, Beetle had pulled a large brass lever that was set into the wall. A low hiss filled the room and this time it wasn't the snake. Underneath the table a concealed round trapdoor rose slowly from the floor and a chill breath of air came into the room.



"Get down there, Sep, now!" Beetle said urgently. Septimus cast a regretful glance at the snake, which was still tightly coiled around the Flyte Charm and hissing even more angrily, having mistaken the sound of the trapdoor for a rival snake. But with the tread of Hugh Fox's brisk footsteps coming closer, Septimus picked up Marcia's book and slipped through the trapdoor, closely followed by Beetle.