Authors: Angie Sage
Fyre (38 page)
Simon, however, knew the game to play. He knew
Darke
Wizards fed off fear and that a scornful disdain was the best defense. He also knew that he had to back it up with a show of strength, and so Simon reneged on his promise to Lucy that he would never again mess with the
Darke
.
Using the last of the flame from his cloak, he Conjured a
FireSnake
and sent it blazing through the air. It hit the Wizards and wrapped itself around them once, twice, three times and began to tighten. But like all things
Darke
it was a two-sided weapon. In a moment Shamandrigger Saarn and Dramindonnor Naarn had turned it to their advantage. Using the flame they sent up a plume of black smoke and
Threw
it over Simon and Septimus, imprisoning them in a circle of burnt-snake fumes. Then Shamandrigger wound the
FireSnake
around his
Wand
and hurled it into the smoke, where it scorched Septimus’s hair and fell writhing to the floor. Simon had the presence of mind to stamp on it, but neither he nor Septimus could find a way out of the choking smoke.
Now the
Darke
Wizards headed across to the
SafeShield
. Holding their
Wands
like javelins, they stabbed them into the shimmering purple dome. It emitted a wounded groan and the purple light began to grow dim.
“Jen, I’ll distract them and you make a break for it,” whispered Nicko. “Get to the Queen’s Way. They can’t follow you there.”
“Shut up, Nik,” said Jenna.
“You
what
?” asked Nicko, not sure he’d heard right.
“Just
be quiet
, will you?” Jenna snapped.
Nicko felt scared. Something odd had happened to Jenna.
With that the
SafeShield
died.
Jenna found herself looking into the eyes of her pitiful, bruised, battered and utterly terrified uncles. But lurking deep within she saw the
Darke
Wizards’ malice. Jenna had been scared a few times since the day she had learned she was Princess, but had never felt as frightened as she did now. Nicko grabbed her hand and squeezed it, and Jenna regained her courage. She squared up to the disheveled, muddy figures and demanded, “What do you want?”
The reply came, filling the hall with fear.
“The end.”
“Of your.”
“Line.”
“As we.”
“Promised.”
Jenna reached up and took off her gold circlet—the one that so very long ago Hotep-Ra had given to the Queen.
“No, Jen!” whispered Nicko, thinking she was surrendering.
“Yes, Nik,” said Jenna. She held the circlet in both hands at arms length as though offering it to the Wizards, while Nicko looked on, shocked and unsure what to do.
Among the many things that Jenna had listened to on her Journey was the story of the Queen’s
Committal
of the two
Darke
Wizards to the ring. She had listened to it carefully because it was about something she recognized. But the story had come at the end of a long and tedious day involving many rules and regulations and Jenna had been sleepy. She remembered her grandmother chanting the
Committal
to her as the evening sun came streaming through the tiny round windowpanes. She even remembered dozily chanting it back. Now—hoping that it would come back to her as she spoke—Jenna began the one thing that the Ring Wizards dreaded to hear: “By our Power, at this hour, we do you . . .”
At the onset of the
Committal
, the Wizards shrank back.
From within the
Darke
smoke Septimus and Simon saw a chink of light and threw themselves at it. They burst out, spluttering, to find to their amazement the two Wizards backing away from Jenna. Now was their chance.
Eject?
mouthed Septimus to Simon.
Simon nodded and made the sign of two crossed index fingers for the
Darke
.
Septimus gave him the thumbs-up. If ever there was a time to use the
Darke
it was now.
“Tceje!”
Nothing happened. Shamandrigger Saarn and Dramindonnor Naarn swung around and pointed the
Volatile Wands
at them instead of at Jenna, who was still speaking.
“Not working. Need their
Darke
names,” hissed Simon.
Thinking of his own
Darke
name, Sum, Septimus took a gamble.
“Tceje!”
he yelled. “
Tceje
, Reg and Ron!”
“No!” shouted Jenna as—as if on castors—the
Darke
Wizards shot away from her, exiting backward like all respectful courtiers had done in the past—but at ten times the speed.
At last Jim Knee sprang into action. He opened the door in the paneling, bowed politely as the Wizards shot through it and then slammed it shut. Beaming, the jinnee leaned against it, looking as triumphant as if he himself had
Ejected
the Wizards.
“Good one, Sep!” said Simon.
“Yeah.” Septimus grinned.
But Jenna did not agree. “You dumbos!” she said.
“What?”
Septimus and Simon said in amazement.
“What did you do that for?” Jenna demanded.
“Just trying to save your life, Jen. That’s all,” said Septimus, looking at Jenna as though she had gone crazy. “Is that a problem?”
“Yes. I mean, no. I mean . . . oh, Sep, you
dillop
. I had just remembered all the words. For the
Committal
. But you and Simon just helped them
escape
.”
J
im Knee was shocked. He’d come very close to jinnee suicide, which is what a jinnee is considered to have committed if he allows his Master to be murdered in his presence. Not only is this fairly disastrous for the Master, it is also pretty bad for the jinnee: he is evaporated on the spot into a convenient receptacle, which more often than not ends up in the hands of the murderer. There is an old jinnee saying, “Murderers do not good Masters make,” which is true. However, Jim Knee was not about to impart this information to his Master. It was desirable that his shock appeared to be due to the narrow escape his
Master
had had.
But no one noticed Jim Knee’s shock—everyone in the room was in a similar state. They gathered around the little door in the paneling where the Wizards had so recently been
Ejected
.
“What I don’t understand is how they got into the cupboard in the first place,” Nicko was saying. “And when? Me and Jen were here on our own for ages and they could easily have got us then.” He shuddered at the thought. “So why wait until we were all here?”
“It is not a cupboard,” said Simon. “It’s some kind of old tunnel. You can smell it. We wouldn’t have
Ejected
them into a
cupboard
, Nik.”
“It is Smugglers’ Bolt.” Jim Knee’s voice gave everyone a surprise. The jinnee had been unusually quiet since he had arrived at the Port Palace.
“Smugglers’ Bolt?” asked Jenna. “What’s that?”
“I thought you knew, since it’s your Palace,” said Jim Knee. “It’s a tunnel to the Castle.”
“All the way to the Castle? All the way from
here
?”
“Indeed. A foul and fetid way, used only by those desperate to escape the law of the Port.”
“Or the Castle,” said Septimus.
“Quite so, Master.”
“But how do you know?” Jenna asked Jim Knee.
Jim Knee was silent. Like all jinn, he was uncomfortable speaking about previous lives.
“Answer the question, Jim Knee,” his Master told him a trifle impatiently. “How
do
you know?”
“I’ve been here before,” Jim Knee said. “I was once the Royal cook.”
“So you’ve been down the tunnel?”
“Er, no.” A terrifying memory flashed through Jim Knee’s mind: a midnight raid. Screams. Pistols firing. Axes hacking at the doors. And—as poor, unloved Tallula Crum—watching everyone escape down the tiny steps, knowing that there was no way she would ever be able to fit. Knowing that this was the end of another life.
“Then how do you know for sure that it goes to the Castle?” asked Jenna.
“I
know
it does. It was used a lot when I was cook. Precious things were taken through it for safety. The Port was wild in those days.”
“No change there, then,” muttered Nicko.
They all stared at the door, longing to open it and see what lay beyond, and yet not daring. “I think we should check to see if they’re really gone,” said Jenna.
“They won’t hang around here,” Septimus pointed out. “Not now they know you know the
Committal
.”
“But I want to see for myself,” said Jenna.
Nicko put his hand on his knife, which he always kept in a sheath hanging from his belt when he was in the Port. “Yeah,” he said. “If we’re going to stay here tonight, we have to check. We don’t want them sneaking up on us when we’re asleep.”
“But I
Ejected
them,” said Septimus, a little peeved that his
Magyk
was not being taken seriously. “They can’t come back.”
“They’re
Darke
Wizards, Sep,” said Nicko. “They can do what they like.”
“Nik’s right,” said Simon. “We should put an
Anti-Darke
on the door at the very least. In fact, I would suggest a
Lock
and
Bar
as well.”
“I wasn’t going to leave the door unguarded,” said Septimus irritably. “That would be stupid. But I need to think carefully about what to do.”
“We
all
need to think,” said Simon, annoyed at not having his expertise considered.
Jenna was tired of all the discussion. It was her Palace and she wanted to know everything about it. So while the boys were bickering, she pulled open the little door to Smugglers’ Bolt.
“Jen!” A chorus of protest greeted her action.
Jenna took no notice. She peered into the dark. A waft of stale, unpleasant air blew into her face. She picked up a nearby candle and pushed it into the darkness beyond the open door. In its light Jenna could see some tiny steps, no more than a foot wide, disappearing downward between two tapering walls of chiseled stone. It was the narrowest tunnel she had ever seen.
The boys were all looking over Jenna’s shoulder now. Even Nicko—who loathed confined spaces—wanted to see. To everyone’s relief the tunnel was deserted.
“They’ve gone,” whispered Jenna. And then she realized where they had gone.
“Back to the Castle.”
Quietly, Jenna closed the little door. She had heard that sound could travel a long way through a tunnel. She put her finger to her lips and beckoned everyone away to the fire, where she took up her position in front of the huge stone lintel and said, “We have some plans to make. Fast.”
Simon, Septimus and Nicko nodded.
“We can’t let them loose in the Castle—we absolutely
can’t
. So that means I have to do the
Committal
before they get out,” said Jenna. “And to do that I have to be ready and waiting for them at the exit from Smugglers’ Bolt.”
“Jim Knee, how long does it take to go through Smugglers’ Bolt to the Castle?” asked Septimus.
“It used to take about nine hours,” replied Jim Knee. “It was not a pleasant trip, I was told. But who knows the state it is in now? It could take even longer.”
“Where does it come out?” asked Jenna.
“Number Sixty-Seven Wizard Way—in the backyard. Of course it was a secret but my little scullion-boy’s mother used to live at Number Sixty-Seven and he told me. He was a brave lad. On his day off he’d run all the way home through that tunnel and be back first thing the next morning. Without fail.”
“Where
is
Number Sixty-Seven?” asked Simon—the numbering system in Wizard Way bore little or no relation to where the building was sited.
Septimus sighed. “It’s Larry’s place,” he said. “Larry’s Dead Languages.
Great
.”
Jenna had been thinking. “So . . . I need to be there in nine hours’ time. Unless
Darke
Wizards travel faster?”
“They are constrained by the bodies they
InHabit
,” said Septimus. “Until they can get their own form back—which they can’t until they win the battle with the person they are
InHabiting
. And so far Edmund and Ernold are still hanging on in there. So far . . .”
The full horror of what had happened to her uncles began to dawn on Jenna. “Oh, that is so
horrible
,” she whispered. “Poor, poor Uncle Ernold and Uncle Edmund.”
“Yes,” said Septimus. “There’s a book I had to read before my
Darke
Week, called
InHabitees
Remember
. There aren’t many that do remember, of course, but a few have been rescued before they were completely
Consumed
. It’s unbelievably awful. There’s an entity inside your head, controlling your body, pushing you to exhaustion, trying to get you to give up, to allow them to take you over. And you can’t rest, not even for a second . . .”
