Fyre (34 page)
Authors: Angie Sage
The party reached the end of the smelly street and took a turning into a long, marginally less smelly street with tall houses on either side, unlit apart from a pool of light at the far end. They walked swiftly along, heading toward the light. A few nosy residents twitched aside their curtains and saw a strange procession: a man who appeared, from the black and red robes he wore, to be a
Darke
Wizard, followed by a lanky Wizard Apprentice, and a man trying to keep a pile of yellow doughnuts on his head. But they thought little of it—living not far from the Port Witch Coven, they had seen much more bizarre sights. They soon closed their curtains and went back to their fires.
Toward the end of the road the group stopped opposite a garishly painted house on the other side of the street. This was the Doll House. It was, underneath its paint, a typical Port house: tall and flat-fronted, with the front door just a broad step up from the street. But the Doll House stood out from all the others in Fore Street by virtue of its freshly painted glossy pink and yellow bricks that shone in the light of a lone torch that burned brightly beside its front doorstep.
Septimus looked anxiously at the house next door—a gloomy, ramshackle building in urgent need of repair that, even from the other side of the road, smelled faintly of sewage. He was relieved to see it looked quiet, although he guessed that now that night had fallen the occupants would probably be stirring. This was the residence of the Port Witch Coven.
Septimus scanned the jaunty Doll House and searched for clues as to what might be happening inside. The Doll House’s cheery façade gave nothing away, but Septimus could not help but wonder if they were too late—were Shamandrigger Saarn and Dramindonnor Naarn already inside?
“It all looks very quiet,” Alther whispered nervously.
Simon glanced around. “So far. Best not to hang around.” He looked dubiously at Jim Knee, who was biting his nails. “Septimus, your jinnee does understand what he has to do?”
“He understands,” said Septimus.
“Jolly good,” said Alther. “Over we go, then.”
They crossed the street to the doorstep of the Doll House and listened. All was quiet. Jim Knee, consumed with nerves, checked his reflection in the shiny surface of the brass letter box, bobbing up and down to get a full view of his face.
Septimus addressed his jinnee sternly. “Jim Knee, stop preening and
listen to me
.”
“I am all ears, Oh Apprentice.” Jim Knee prodded at his somewhat protruding ears. “Unfortunately. They never came back properly after that ghastly turtle you made me—”
“Good,” Septimus cut in. “You will fit the part perfectly. Are you ready?”
Jim Knee looked sick. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Jim Knee, I command you to
Transform
into the likeness of—”
“Septimus, are you absolutely sure about this?” Alther interrupted apprehensively.
“It’s only a likeness, not the real thing.”
“Even so . . .”
Septimus addressed his jinnee with a formal command. “Jim Knee. I wish you to
Transform
into the likeness of . . . DomDaniel!”
F
rom an attic window in
the house of the Port Witch Coven, Dorinda saw a portly man wearing a stovepipe hat, a purple ExtraOrdinary Wizard’s cloak embroidered with
Darke
symbols and an impressive array of rings on his stubby, fat fingers. Dorinda’s huge elephant ears twitched in amazement.
Surely that was DomDaniel?
Her mouth went dry.
But wasn’t he dead?
She peered out again and saw the man lift the knocker and knock loudly on the door. Dorinda knew no ghost could do that. She sat down on her bed in horror. He’s real, thought Dorinda. And then she thought: DomDaniel is visiting Nursie! Dorinda began to panic; clearly there was more to Nursie than she’d realized. She just wished she’d known that earlier—before she’d tipped a bucket of
Darke
spiders over her that afternoon while she was hanging out the washing. Dorinda groaned. She wrapped her elephant ears around her head and began to chew a soft ear-edge for comfort. Nursie had looked up and
seen
her—so that was what she had meant by “I’ll get you for that, you little trollop!”
Nursie was going to set DomDaniel on her
. Dorinda shook her elephant ears free, leaped to her feet and
screamed
. And when Dorinda screamed, the whole of the Port Witch Coven knew it.
Down on Nursie’s doorstep, Jim Knee was, to his surprise, enjoying himself. He had a penchant for rings and he rather liked his new collection. He raised his hand to knock once more and admired the flash of the diamond cluster that nestled on his little finger. As he was about to let the knocker go, the door surprised him by opening to reveal the back view of a lanky youth with short black hair and a neat dark tunic, who was yelling back into the house.
“What?”
“Answer . . . the . . . door!” a disembodied voice yelled from somewhere at the top of the house.
Septimus, who was standing hidden in the shadows behind Jim Knee, was relieved to see that Merrin Meredith seemed his usual self—clearly the
Darke
Wizards had not yet found him. Septimus thought that Merrin looked surprisingly neat and tidy—pretty normal, in fact—apart from a bandage around his left hand, which, as it grasped the edge of the door, showed an odd flatness where the thumb should be. But Merrin himself had yet to notice who had knocked. He was too busy yelling, “I’m
doing
it!”
“Merrin! Answer . . . the . . .
door
!” came the voice from upstairs.
“I’veansweredthestupiddoorareyoudeaf?”
Merrin screamed into the gloom of the house.
“Jeez!”
He swung around grumpily and saw his visitor for the first time. His mouth fell open and stayed that way.
“Who . . . is . . . it?”
yelled the voice from upstairs.
Merrin was in no state to reply—all he could do was stare at the apparition on the doorstep in terror.
Jim Knee perused his dumbstruck victim with an air of satisfaction; things were going well. The jinnee drew himself up to DomDaniel’s full height—which was not much, although the stovepipe hat added enough to be just taller than the boy at the door—and was surprised by the nasty little voice that came out of his mouth.
“Apprentice.” Jim Knee coughed and tried to get the voice deeper and more scary. “Ahem. App
ren
tice.”
Merrin emitted a small squeak and leaned against the doorframe. His long, thin legs wobbled as though they were made of rubber and looked ready to fold in half at any moment. From inside the house heavy footsteps could be heard coming downstairs accompanied by a voice yelling, “Merrin! Who
is
it?”
“Hurry
up
!” Septimus urged his jinnee.
“Apprentice,” intoned Jim Knee. “You will accompany me to the Castle.”
Merrin leaped back and tried to slam the door, but Jim Knee stepped forward and wedged his foot against it. Merrin stared at his old Master in horror. It was worse than his worst nightmare ever. “N-nah . . . ah . . .” he gurgled.
“Apprentice. Come with me!” Jim Knee boomed, getting control of the voice now. He leaned close to Merrin and said in a voice so laden with threat that even Septimus got goose bumps, “Do I have to make you, you little
toad
?”
Wide-eyed, widemouthed, Merrin shook his head. Very reluctantly, he began to edge forward. Suddenly footsteps could be heard on the stairs.
“Mum!” squeaked Merrin.
Septimus panicked—events were going a little too fast. In a moment Nursie would be there and they would have lost their chance. “Grab him, quick!” he told Jim Knee.
Jim Knee grabbed Merrin’s arm.
Nursie’s voice came echoing along the corridor. “Merrin! Tell them we’re full!”
“Mum! Help!” Merrin at last managed a small yell.
Thud
,
thud
,
thud
came the sound of hobnail boots on floorboards: mummy monster was coming to rescue her baby. “Oi, what’s going on? You let go, you great big bully!”
“Ouch!” yelled Jim Knee.
A large fist landed square on the jinnee’s nose, which was still very sore from hitting the bollard. To Septimus’s dismay, Jim Knee collapsed in a heap on the doorstep. Septimus leaped forward and grabbed hold of his jinnee’s collar—a greasy affair that protruded over the purple cloak.
“Get up, you idiot,” he hissed. Merrin stared at Septimus in amazement. He would never have dared call his old Master
that
.
A shadow fell across Septimus. He looked up and saw the substantial bulk of Nursie looming over him. “Get that horrible man away from my Merrin,” she told Septimus. Nursie took in Simon. “And you can buzz off too. Blasted Heaps. Nothing but trouble.” She turned to Merrin, who was leaning against the doorway, pale as a ghost. “Are you all right, my precious?” she asked.
Merrin nodded weakly.
It was at that moment that the door to the Port Witch Coven was wrenched open and the Witch Mother staggered out. “Master!” came the loud rasp of her voice. All on the doorstep turned in amazement to watch the Witch Mother—a round barrel of black robes smelling of cat poo—clatter precariously across to the Doll House in her tall, spiked shoes. The Witch Mother’s face, creased from sleeping in her thick white makeup (which covered her allergy to woodworm) was set in an expression of extreme humbleness. She grabbed hold of the Doll House railings and hauled herself up, heading for Simon and Jim Knee. Jim Knee stared at the Witch Mother in horror. He did not like witches.
Neither did Nursie. “And you can buzz off too, you old carcass,” Nursie informed the Witch Mother, and gave her a push. The Witch Mother wobbled precariously and grabbed hold of Simon to stop herself falling. Simon pushed her away and the Witch Mother clattered back against the railings.
Alther watched in dismay as a full-scale brawl threatened to break out on the doorstep of the Doll House. He decided to
Appear
, making himself as opaque as possible, for he was sure that Nursie was one of those who never normally saw ghosts.
“Madam,” he said.
“What?” demanded Nursie.
“There seems to be some kind of misunderstanding.”
“I understand perfectly. This horrible old
baggage
.” Nursie stabbed her finger on Jim Knee’s nose for emphasis.
“Ouch!”
“Not only kidnapped my little boy when he was a baby but now he has the nerve to come back and try it
all over again
. Well, I’m not having it. Not this time.”
“Madam,” said Alther. “Please let me explain. We have come to help your son; he is in grave danger from—”
“Him!”
Nursie poked at Jim Knee again for emphasis.
“Ouch!”
“And he is lucky I don’t do worse than poke—”
“Ouch!”
“Him—”
“Ouch!”
“In—”
“Ouch!”
“The—”
“Ouch!”
“Nose.”
“Ouch, ouch,
ouch
!”
The Witch Mother watched Nursie’s treatment of DomDaniel in amazement. A new respect for her neighbor began to dawn. “Er . . . Nursie,” she ventured.
“What
now
?” demanded Nursie.
“Please accept my most humble apologies for any inconvenience that the Coven may have caused you in the past and my assurances that we will do all we can in the future to assist you in any way. Any way at all . . .” The Witch Mother made an awkward bow to Nursie.
Nursie was on a roll. Her enemies were falling before her like bowling pins and she was going to make the most of it. “And you, you smelly old bat—you can buzz off an’ all,” she snapped at the Witch Mother.
The Witch Mother continued bowing frantically and began to back away. “Yes, thank you. I will indeed buzz off as you so kindly suggest.”
The motley group on the doorstep of the Doll House watched the Witch Mother totter back next door, lift the
Darke
Toad doorknocker and let it go with a
bang
. The door opened and the Witch Mother staggered inside. As soon as the door to the Port Witch Coven closed Septimus told Jim Knee to
Transform
. There was a flash of yellow light on Nursie’s doorstep and DomDaniel was gone; in his place stood an exotic-looking man dressed in yellow holding his red, swollen nose.
Nursie looked at her visitors quizzically. A few weeks back she had received a letter from Marcia explaining what had happened to Merrin and telling her that he was her son. Nursie, after all the years in the wilderness, searching for her son, had at last begun to think clearly. And the more she thought, the more she knew that she was never,
ever
, going to let Merrin out of her sight. She perused the Apprentices, the odd-looking man with the doughnut hat and the ghost. Taking the ghost to be the most reasonable of them all she addressed her comment to him.
