Physik

Septimus stood warily in front of the looking glass, deliberately avoiding it by staring at his boots. He remembered Alther telling him how he had once looked in a Glass and seen a Spectre Waiting for him. He was afraid he might be about to see the same thing. "How does she know whether I've looked into the Glass or not?" he asked.



"I don't know," Jenna said, unhappily twisting the red fur trim on her new cloak. "I didn't ask. I was so scared that she would reverse the Reclaime that I just told her I would make sure you did it."



"Did she say why I had to?"



"No. She wouldn't say. She was just so ... threatening. It was horrible. Can she really do what she said, Sep? Can she really reverse the Reclaime?"



Septimus angrily scuffed his boots on the marble. "Yes, she can, Jen. Within twenty-four hours, if she's skilled at it, which I bet she is. I bet she's done it lots of times before. Rescued some poor person and then held them ransom."



"She's horrible," muttered Jenna. "I hate her."



"Marcia says you shouldn't hate anyone," Septimus said. "She says first you should stand in their shoes before you judge them."



"Marcia wouldn't stand in anyone else's shoes," Jenna said with a wry smile, "unless they were pointy purple python skin with dinky little gold buttons."



Septimus laughed and then fell silent. So did Jenna. Both felt their gazes drawn toward the Glass but neither looked at it. Suddenly Septimus blurted out, "I'm going to look in it now, Jen."



"Now?" Jenna's voice rose up a pitch.



"Yes. Get it over with. After all, what's the worst that can happen? I might see a horrible old Spectre or Thing, but that's all. What you see can't hurt you, can it?"



"No. I suppose not..." Jenna sounded unconvinced.



"So I'll do it now. You go back up to the cupboard and I'll be up in a moment. Okay?"



"No, I'm not leaving you here on your own," protested Jenna.



"But if there is a Spectre Waiting for me, Jen, you mustn't see it. It will Haunt you too. I know what to do about Spectres and you don't."



"But - " Jenna hesitated.



"Go on, Jen. Please." Septimus flashed Jenna a smile. "Go on."



Jenna reluctantly started up the silver stairs to the potions cupboard. Once she was safely out of the Robing Room, Septimus took a deep breath to steady his nerves. Then he looked into the Glass.



At first he could see nothing. The Glass was dark, like a deep marsh pool. Septimus leaned closer, wondering why he could not see his own reflection and, despite doing his best not to, imagining all kinds of horrible Spectres at his shoulder, Waiting for him.



"Are you okay? Have you looked into the Glass yet?" Jenna's voice came from the cupboard.



"Um ... yes. I'm looking now..."



"What can you see?"



"Nothing ... nothing ... it's just dark ... oh, wait ... I can see something now ... it - it's weird ... an old man ... staring at me. He looks kind of surprised."



"An old man?" asked Jenna.



"Oh, that's odd..."



"What?" Jenna sounded worried.



"Well, if I raise my right hand he does too. And if I frown, he frowns too."



"Like your reflection would?"



"Well, yes. Oh, I know what it is - it's one of those Yet-to-Come Glasses. They were very popular in the old days. Traveling fairs used to bring them. They show you what you're going to look like just before you die."



"That's horrible, Sep," Jenna called down.



"Yeah. Don't ever want to look like that. Ugh. Oh, look, if I stick out my tongue, he - hey!"



"What?" Jenna could bear it no longer. She hurtled down the steps and arrived in the Robing Room just in time to see Septimus spring back from the Glass, slip on the shiny marble floor and fall. As he scrabbled to get up and away, Jenna screamed. Reaching out of the Glass were two old, wizened hands. With long bony fingers and curved yellow nails, they snatched at Septimus's tunic, grabbed hold of it, then wrapped themselves around his Apprentice belt, dragging him toward the Glass. Frantically Septimus tried to pull away, kicking out at the clutching talons.



"Jen! Help, Je - " he yelled, and then there was silence. Septimus's head had disappeared into the Glass as though sinking into a pool of ink.



Jenna ran down the steps and skidded across the floor, horrified at seeing Septimus's shoulders rapidly disappearing into the Glass. She leaped forward, grabbed his feet and pulled with all her strength. Slowly, slowly Septimus began to come out of the Glass. Jenna hung on like a dog with a bone, determined never, ever, to let go of Septimus. Little by little, as if emerging from one of the black Marram Marsh pools, Septimus's head broke free. He twisted around and yelled, "Careful, Jen! Don't let him get you!"



Jenna glanced up and saw a face that stayed with her for the rest of her life. It was the face of an old man - an ancient man - with a great long nose and sunken, staring eyes that looked at Jenna with surprise, as if he knew her. Long wisps of yellowish white hair hung down and caught over his enormous old ears. His mouth, which contained three great tombstone teeth, was fixed in a wide grimace of concentration as he tried to pull Septimus away from her. Then, suddenly, with a tremendous heave, he succeeded. Septimus shot through the Glass and Jenna was left alone in the Robing Room, staring in disbelief at all that was left of Septimus - his old brown boots, empty in her hands.



With toes stubbed from kicking the Glass and her throat sore from screaming at it to give Septimus back, Jenna fled up the steps, clutching Septimus's boots. Once she was safely in the Unstable Potions and Partikular Poisons cupboard, she slammed the trapdoor closed and opened the bottom drawer under the empty shelves. She heard the familiar metallic click, and then, trying to catch her breath, Jenna waited impatiently until something in the cupboard shifted and she smelled the familiar scent of cabbages cooking.



Jenna pushed open the door and stepped out into Aunt Zelda's cottage.



"Oi!" A startled voice came from the rug beside the fire. A boy with long matted hair, wearing a simple brown tunic fastened with an old leather belt, leaped to his feet with a look of alarm. On seeing Jenna, Wolf Boy relaxed and said, "Hey, it's you again. Can't keep away, huh?" And then, noticing Jenna's expression: "Jenna, what's the matter?"



"Oh ... 409," gasped Jenna, who had picked up Septimus's habit of addressing Wolf Boy by his old Young Army number. "Where's Aunt Zelda - I've got to see Aunt Zelda.



Wolf Boy needed no excuse to leave his early reader potion book by the fire and come over to Jenna. He had never mastered the art of reading, having been completely terrified of his reading and writing instructor in the Young Army. And now, no matter how hard he tried and how patient Aunt Zelda was with him, the way the letters stuck together to make words - or not - still made little sense to Wolf Boy. "She's not here, Jenna," he explained. "She's out gathering marsh herbs an' stuff. Hey, aren't those 412's boots?"



Jenna nodded miserably. She had been sure that Aunt Zelda would know what to do, but now ... She leaned against the cupboard door, suddenly exhausted.



"Can I help?" Wolf Boy asked quietly, a concerned look in his dark brown eyes.



"I don't know..." Jenna almost wailed and then stopped. She must keep calm, she told herself. She must think what to do. She must.



"412's in trouble, isn't he?" asked Wolf Boy.



Jenna nodded again, not trusting herself to say anything. Wolf Boy put his arm around Jenna's shoulders. "Then we'd better get him out of trouble ... yeah?"



Jenna nodded.



"I'll come with you. Wait, I'd better leave a note for Aunt Zelda and tell her where we've gone." Wolf Boy rushed over to Aunt Zelda's desk, which looked faintly ridiculous with duck feet on the ends of its legs and a pair of arms to help with the paperwork, both courtesy of Marcia Overstrand. Aunt Zelda hated these additions but Wolf Boy had learned to use them to his advantage.



"Piece of paper, please," he asked the arms. The rather clumsy hands on the ends of the arms scrabbled around in the desk drawer, took out a crumpled piece of paper, smoothed it out and put it neatly on the desk.



"Pen, please," asked Wolf Boy.



The right hand picked a quill pen from a tray on top of the desk and held it surprisingly delicately, hovering above the paper.



"Now write: Dear Aunt Zelda - what's the matter?" The left hand was impatiently drumming its fingers on the paper. "Oh, sorry. Ink, please. Now write: Dear Aunt Zelda, Jenna and me have gone to rescue 412. With love from 409. Oh, and Jenna. Love from Jenna too. That's it, yes, thank you. Thank you, you can stop now. Put the pen away. No, you don't need to blot it, just leave it on her desk and make sure she sees it." The hands rather fussily put away the pen, and then the arms folded themselves somewhat crossly, as if dissatisfied with being asked to write so little.



"Let's go," said Jenna, stepping back through the door of the Unstable Potions and Partikular Poisons cupboard.



"Coming," said Wolf Boy, and then remembering something, he dashed back to the fire and picked up an uneaten cabbage sandwich.



Jenna eyed the sandwich warily. "Do you really like those?" she asked.



"No. Can't stand 'em. But 412 does. Thought he'd like this one."



"He's going to need a whole lot more than a cabbage sandwich, 409." Jenna sighed.



"Yeah, well. Look, I'll follow you and you can tell me about it. Okay?"



Wolf Boy and Jenna emerged from the cupboard in the Queen's Room with Wolf Boy in a somber mood. Jenna had told him what had happened. They walked past the Queen's chair, unaware of her shocked expression at the apparently sudden change that Septimus had undergone - from neatly dressed Apprentice to a half-wild-looking boy. As Wolf Boy passed the ghost, he felt the hair on the back of his neck rise; he looked around like a wary animal and a low growl rose from the back of his throat. "Something funny in here, Jen," he whispered.



Jenna shivered, unnerved by Wolf Boy's feral growl. "Come on," she said. "Let's get out of here." She grabbed Wolf Boy's hand and pulled him through the door. Jillie Djinn, recently Chosen Chief Hermetic Scribe, was waiting for them.