SandRider (9 page)

“We need to get off soon,” Tod said. “I'll go first and then you grab my hands and jump. Okay?” Before Kaznim could say anything, Tod had stepped up onto the floor and was
standing, arms outstretched, smiling with encouragement.

Kaznim froze.

“Come on,” Tod said. “It's really easy. Just step off.”

Kaznim shook her head. Her world was spinning out of control and she didn't know what to do. She clung to the center post with one hand, held on tight to Ptolemy with the other and screwed her eyes shut.

Tod watched Kaznim rotate on upward. She leaped back onto the stairs and broke Wizard Tower Apprentice Rule Number Fifty-Two:
Apprentices must not move between steps on the spiral stairs
. Tod didn't like to break the rules, but she reckoned that helping a scared girl and her tortoise was more important. Feeling very daring, she climbed the moving stairs and soon caught up with Kaznim.

Tod spent the next three floors trying to persuade Kaznim to open her eyes, but to no effect. As the stairs turned slowly on, ever upward, Tod realized they were now approaching floor seven, where the Sick Bay was located. Deciding to make the best of it, she said, “Do you want to see how Sam is?”

“He's dying,” Kaznim whispered.

“He's not dead yet,” Tod said briskly. “Come on, Sam needs
all the help he can get. This floor is the Sick Bay. Let's get off and see if there is anything we can do.”

The only thing Kaznim wanted to do more than get off the horrible corkscrew was to help Sam. She let go of the center pole, opened her eyes and wished she hadn't. The world was still spinning. She saw the floor traveling down to meet them and closed her eyes to stop herself from falling. The next thing she knew, Tod had grabbed her and lifted her onto something that, to her relief,
didn't move
.

Warily, Kaznim opened her eyes. The Sick Bay corridor was dimly lit and she couldn't see much. Clutching Ptolemy tightly to her, Kaznim allowed herself to be guided to some double doors at the end of the corridor, above which was a sign proclaiming in glowing red letters:
No admittance. Press green button and wait
.

Tod had never seen that sign lit before. She thought it did not bode well, but said nothing to Kaznim. She pressed the large button beside the doors and waited. After a very long minute, the doors opened a few inches and Edd peered out. “Tod—good timing!” he said.

“Oh?” Tod asked anxiously.

“Septimus wants you to fetch Marcellus Pye. As quick as you can.”

Tod knew that was not good news. Marcellus Pye was the Castle Alchemist but he also had a talent for surgery, which was something that Dr. Draa thought was barbarous. Things must be bad for Dandra to agree to have Marcellus in the Sick Bay. “I'll get him right away,” Tod said.

“Thanks.” Edd began to close the doors and then remembered something. “And Septimus says, when you've done that, can you tell the rest of our brothers? That's Simon—you know, the Deputy Alchemist? And also Nicko, who'll be down at the boatyard, and Jo-Jo, who'll be . . . well, somewhere. Ask at Gothyk Grotto, they'll know. Is that okay?”

Tod was a little overwhelmed by the idea of rounding up the Heap brothers, but she was determined not to show it. “Yep. Okay,” she said, and turned to go. Quickly, before the doors closed, Kaznim pushed Ptolemy into Edd's hands. Edd Heap looked down at the creature as though Kaznim had given him a bomb. He had never seen a tortoise before.

“For Sam,” Kaznim said. “He's an Apothecary tortoise.”

Edd shook his head. “They don't allow animals in there.”

“Tell them what he is,” said Kaznim. “Then they will.”

The tall woman with the white streak in her hair appeared at the door behind Edd. “Alice,” Dandra said briskly. “We need Marcellus fast, please.”

“Yes. Sorry. Just going,” said Tod.

“Be quick,” Dandra said and then, “Edd, what are you holding?”

Edd looked bewildered. “A Pothecary tortoise?”

Dandra looked amazed.
“Ptolemy!”
She gasped. “Give him to me!” She snatched the tortoise and hurried back into the Sick Bay. Edd stared down at his empty hands, shook his head, then turned and followed. The doors swung closed behind them.

“How did she know my tortoise's name?” asked Kaznim, staring at the closed doors.

“I have no idea.” Tod was as bewildered as Kaznim. “Look, I've got to go. Wait here. I'll be back as soon as I can.”

Kaznim watched Tod hurry to the silver stairs and press a large red button on the wall. A distant siren sounded a stair priority warning. Tod jumped on, the stairs sped up and in a sudden whirl of green, she was gone. Kaznim was left in the hushed dimness of the Sick Bay corridor, with its astringent
smells that reminded her of a star-strewn tent so far away. She sat down on the waiting bench and a wave of homesickness washed over her.

Inside the Sick Bay Dandra Draa and her old tortoise were becoming reacquainted. She held him up so that they were eye to eye and Ptolemy stuck his head out as far as he could. If he could have smiled he would have; it was good to see his old attendant again. He had wondered what had happened to her. Much as the tortoise felt great affection for his young attendant, he had, like all tortoises, a preference for maturer creatures.

Dandra felt as though her past had caught up with her and run her over. Her hands were shaking as she fought back a familiar feeling of fear. “Who brought this tortoise here?” she asked.

“Tod,” said Edd.

“
Alice
brought it?”

“Er, well, there was a girl with her. Quite young. I think it belonged to her.”

Dandra shook her head, puzzled. “I . . . I don't understand,” she muttered.

Edd nodded in agreement. He didn't understand either—Dandra never allowed animals in the Sick Bay, and here she was waving around a dirty rock with scaly legs and a cranky look in its eyes.
It will be peeing on the floor next
, Edd thought. “I'll get a cloth, shall I?” he offered. “Something for it to sit on.”

Dandra looked impressed. “Yes, please, Edd. That's what we always do—but how did you know?”

Edd, who enjoyed helping in the Sick Bay, hurried away, pleased to be of use.

Sam Heap was in the Quiet Room, a small and peaceful space off the main Sick Bay. It was used for Wizards who were very ill or nearing the end of their lives, and after a nasty flu epidemic earlier that winter it was now home to six ghosts, all spending their obligatory ghostly Leaving Time—a year and a day after their death—in the place where they had entered ghosthood.

The ghostly old Wizards regarded Sam Heap mournfully. They all remembered him as a bright, noisy little boy, full
of life. It seemed impossible that this thin and deathly still young man who was as white as the sheets beneath him—apart from the great gash of red across his stomach—was the same person.

“I'm surprised his parents aren't here,” whispered one. “You know how obsessed Sarah Heap is with her boys.”

“I heard that Sarah and Silas are away in the Forest,” whispered another. “They went to stay with Galen for the MidWinter Feast.”

“Whatever did they want to do that for?” came the reply.

“Silas didn't want to,” said the first. “He was in here complaining the day before they went. But of course, you weren't here then. You were still . . .” The ghost trailed off, embarrassed.

“Alive,” the other ghost finished for him, sourly.

There was an awkward silence—it was bad manners among ghosts to talk about Life and Death. “Well,” said another, “even if Sarah and Silas are in the Forest, someone should go and tell them. It doesn't seem right not to know your boy's dying, does it?”

The ghosts nodded and sighed, sending a chill breeze ruffling the sheets. It was tough being stuck in the Quiet Room
of the Sick Bay for one's Leaving Time. It was a small, gloomy place and it was crowded enough without having another ghost join them—especially a young one who had not expected to Leave his Life just yet. Those ghosts were always noisy and disruptive. And so—just like the Living who hurried in and out of the Quiet Room—the resident ghosts wished heartily that Sam Heap would recover.

But no one wished Sam to live more than Marwick. He sat beside the high, narrow bed, clutching Sam's cold hand. It seemed to Marwick that Sam was getting ready to Leave. His skin was sweaty, his breath came in rapid, shallow gasps and around his waist his fresh bandage was already showing a dark red stain of blood.

Dr. Dandra Draa came in carrying Ptolemy on a starched white line square and very gently laid him on top of Sam's bandage.

The attendant ghosts looked at one another in disbelief. “She's gone mad,” hissed one.

“Totally bonkers,” agreed the others.

At the comforting presence of the tortoise, Sam's eyelids flickered and Marwick thought his breathing eased a little. And maybe his hand felt a little warmer. Maybe . . .

Ptolemy pulled in his legs and head and concentrated on what was beneath his shell. It did not feel good—the tissues felt damaged and disturbed and there was metal there, sharp and bright. This was not a job for a tortoise, Ptolemy reflected. This was a job for a chirurgeon: something inside Sam needed to be taken out.

Dandra knew that too. She knelt down so that she was at eye level with her old tortoise. “Ptolemy. Show me, I pray, where the sharpness lies,” she said.

Careful not to cause Sam any extra pain, Ptolemy put his legs out, raised himself up and moved around in a half circle. Then, three times, very slowly, he dipped his head down and touched his nose to the sharp bright spot beneath the bandages.

Dandra looked at Marwick. “It is as I feared,” she said. “There is something in the wound. But at least now we know where it is. And Marcellus Pye will be here soon to take it out.”

“I knew it,” Marwick mumbled. “I
knew
the blade had broken off.” Marwick saw Sam's lifeblood oozing through the bandages and he knew that Marcellus Pye could not get there a moment too soon.

PART IV

F
IFTY
-S
IX
H
OURS TO
H
ATCHING

F
orgotten in the crisis, Kaznim
sat alone on the hard wooden bench outside the Sick Bay. She watched a succession of people rush by: four Wizards staggering with a small, but clearly very heavy, ancient wooden chest, followed at intervals by three young men who all looked a little like Sam Heap. One wore black, one looked like a sailor, in navy blue jerkin and trews, and the last wore long green robes and looked to Kaznim just like the one to whom she had given her precious tortoise, except he had very short hair. People carrying piles of towels and large colored bottles came and went. Silently Kaznim watched them all pass by with no more than a brief glance and perhaps a distant smile.

Suddenly a young woman wearing the most beautiful red silk robes and a simple crown, her eyes blurry with tears,
hurried by. Kaznim stared in amazement. Enough Queens and Princesses had visited the star tent for her to recognize the real thing when she saw it. Like everyone else, the Queen raced by without noticing her and hurtled through the Sick Bay doors. But unlike the others, when the Queen came out she saw Kaznim and stopped. Kaznim smiled nervously. The Queen looked like a much younger version of a particularly unpleasant Queen who controlled the city nearest to her star tent. She even wore red, just like the Red Queen herself. But Kaznim could tell she was different; her eyes were friendly, not blank and cruel as her mother had once described those of the Red Queen—and besides, she was smiling, although a little sadly. It was said that the Red Queen never smiled except when she was about to cut someone's head off. And Kaznim was pretty sure this Queen wasn't planning on doing that. She didn't have a sword with her, anyway.

To Kaznim's utter amazement, the young Queen came over and knelt beside her. “Are you the little girl who came with Sam?” she asked.

Kaznim was speechless. She nodded and the Queen put her hand on hers. It was the first kind touch Kaznim had felt since Tod had disappeared, and tears sprung into her eyes.
“Thank you,” the Queen said. “I know it was because of you that they decided to open the
Seal
.”

Kaznim's eyes grew wide. “Because of
me
?”

“They saw your hands through the
Magyk
.”

Kaznim was in awe of the Queen, who was so beautiful with her long dark hair and violet-colored eyes. At last she managed to stutter, “Is Sam . . . Is he all right?”

“Sam's not in pain,” the Queen told her. “Thanks to your tortoise, I think. But he is very weak. There is part of a knife still inside him. We are waiting for Marcellus Pye. He is a chirurgeon. He will be able to take it out.”

“And then Sam will be better?” asked Kaznim.

The Queen blinked away tears. “I hope so. I really,
really
hope so.” She stood up quickly and brushed her hand across her face. “I must go,” she said. “I'm going to find Mum and Dad. I
have
to tell them.”

Kaznim nodded. So this must be a Princess, not a Queen, she thought. She was impressed that the King and Queen would want to know about Sam Heap. Most Kings and Queens didn't care at all if one of their subjects was ill. “It is nice of the King and Queen to care so much,” she ventured shyly.

The “Princess” looked puzzled and then she smiled. “Oh, there isn't a King here,” she said. “There's just me. I'm the Queen. I meant
Sam's
Mum and Dad, who are mine, too.” The Queen reached down and held Kaznim's hand once more. “Thank you for helping Sam,” she said, then she turned, ran to the stairs and jumped on. Amazed, Kaznim watched the light sparkle off the Queen's golden crown as the stairs took her slowly down.

Kaznim spent the next ten minutes occupied with wondering if Sam Heap was a prince. Surely he must be, if he shared his parents with the Queen. But if that was so, why wasn't Sam the King? In Kaznim's country a girl only got to be Queen if she had no brothers. It didn't make any sense at all. But then not much in this strange place did.

The Sick Bay corridor fell quiet and Kaznim sat in the shadows, bored and lonely. It was then she remembered, somewhat guiltily now, the gold box that she had stolen from Subhan-Subhan. Glad of something to do, she took the box from her pocket and ran her fingers over the ancient gold streaked with blue, the battered edges and dark metal hinges. Then she pulled open the clasp and looked inside. Nestling in a shaped bed of red velvet was the most exquisitely tiny
hourglass that Kaznim had ever seen. Very carefully she lifted it from its bed and held it up. She had seen hourglasses before, full of sand, which ran through at a steady pace. But this one was different. Made of gold and lapis, it contained little silver grains that shone even in the dim lights of the corridor. It was exquisite. Entranced, Kaznim stared at it. There were many more grains of silver in one half than in the other, so she turned the hourglass so that most of them were in the top half and she could see them cascade down. To her surprise, they did not move. She turned it around, around, and then around again, yet not one of the grains dropped through. Kaznim was giving it one last go when, to her amazement, a grain of silver floated
up
from the bottom of the hourglass and buried itself in the mass of grains in the top. Kaznim nearly dropped it in shock.
It was
Magyk
.

Kaznim stared at the hourglass. This must be what the Egg Boy called his
Egg Timer
—the one he'd boasted that the sorcerer had given him. Kaznim remembered now that the Egg Boy had said that a grain went through once every three hours. She looked at the small huddle of grains left. If only she could count them, she would know how long it would be until her little sister, Bubba, was safe. The
hourglass was a frightening reminder of the power that the sorcerer Oraton-Marr had over her family. Someone rushed past into the Sick Bay and Kaznim quickly shoved the
Egg Timer
into her pocket.

Kaznim pushed away thoughts of her mother and sister. She blinked back tears and returned to studying the box. In two neat piles on either side of the empty hourglass bed were thick cards of different colors and shades. She took the cards out and saw a sprinkling of sand lying at the bottom of the box. Kaznim ran her finger across the sand, and felt even more homesick. She played with it for a while, letting it slide back and forth across the polished silver inside the box, then, afraid of losing the precious sand, she put the lid on the box and began to look at the cards.

There were twelve cards, ranging from a deep purple to bright, fiery red. Kaznim laid the cards out on the bench beside her and, beginning with the darkest purple card, she fanned them out and smiled—she had found a rainbow inside a pot of gold.

Kaznim looked at the cards more closely. On each one was a diagram of a cut-through egg with a small creature curled up inside it. She noticed that in each image the creature grew
a little, beginning as a tiny shrimp and finishing as a perfect little dragon. Kaznim was so engrossed in the pictures that she did not notice the ExtraOrdinary Wizard emerge from the Sick Bay. The first she knew of him was when his shadow fell across the cards, like that of a sand eagle falling over a small desert creature. Hastily, she gathered the cards together.

“Ah,” the ExtraOrdinary Wizard said. “Still here?”

Kaznim nodded. She wondered where else he thought she might go. She noticed that his gaze was fixed on the pile of cards.

“Nice pictures,” he said. “What are they?”

Kaznim thought fast. “They're a card game. You . . . you play it on your own.” She looked up to see if he believed her. It was hard to tell. His green eyes looked cloudy and he had a deep frown between them.

“I'm glad you have something to pass the time,” he said. “It must be boring for you, stuck here.”

Kaznim nodded. She felt bad about lying. But the pictures on the cards belonged to home, to her desert and the hot sands. Kaznim found she even felt proprietorial about the horrible Egg Boy and the Egg. It was
her
world and it wasn't any business of the strangers in this noisy, heavy stone tower.
Defiantly—for she could tell that the ExtraOrdinary Wizard wanted to look at the cards more closely—she put the cards back into the box and closed the lid with a
snap
.

The sudden wail of the emergency siren from the stairs stopped the ExtraOrdinary Wizard from asking anything more. The stairs sped up and he hurried over to wait beside them. Kaznim shoved the gold box deep into her tunic pocket.

“Marcellus!” she heard the ExtraOrdinary Wizard say. “Hurry. There's not a moment to lose.”

Kaznim saw a youngish man in black and gold with his hair styled in a strange bowl cut stumble awkwardly off the stairs. He was carrying a small leather case that reminded Kaznim of her mother's Apothecary bag. The ExtraOrdinary Wizard grabbed his arm and hurried him along the corridor into the Sick Bay. The doors swung closed and once again all was quiet. Kaznim looked back at the stairs, expecting Tod to arrive, but there was no sign of her. There was nothing she could do but sit and wait. Which is what she did. Occasionally someone hurried into the Sick Bay but no one thought to come out and tell her how Sam was. Or to ask how she was.

Time ticked slowly by and Kaznim sat in the empty corridor, biting back tears. She felt utterly deserted.

Tod had been delayed by searching for the last of Sam's brothers. She had eventually found Jo-Jo Heap moping alone in the rooms of his on-off girlfriend—a young witch named Marissa of whom not one of his family approved. When she finally hurried Jo-Jo along the Sick Bay corridor, Kaznim was lying curled up on the bench, asleep. A pang of guilt stabbed Tod as she and Jo-Jo slipped into the Sick Bay.

Marcellus Pye was sitting at the table packing a variety of small shiny instruments into his bag. He was surrounded by all the Heap brothers—except for Jo-Jo and Sam himself. Next to Marcellus sat Septimus, his purple robes splattered with dark stains of blood. Beside Septimus, Edd was busy writing up some notes for Dandra, then there was Nicko Heap, his sunburned face and brightly braided hair looking out of place in the sparse whiteness of the Sick Bay. Erik was talking in a low voice to the oldest Heap brother, Simon, who wore a similar black tunic to Marcellus although less encrusted with gold and, Tod noticed, less encrusted with blood, too.

When Jo-Jo came in they all looked up at the same time and Tod had the odd sensation of five identical pairs of eyes acting as one.

“You took your time,” Erik growled.

Jo-Jo looked flustered. He was still embarrassed to have been found tearfully waiting in Marissa's rooms. At the sound of Tod's footsteps on the stairs, Jo-Jo had thrown the door open and said, “Oh, Marissa, please—” and had then realized who it was. He had tried to close the door on Tod, and it was only when she had told him about Sam that Jo-Jo relented and agreed to come.

“Where's Sam?” Jo-Jo asked, trying to make up for his lateness. “Can I see him?”

“I'll take you through,” said Septimus.

Tod and Jo-Jo followed Septimus into the Quiet Room. Sam was sleeping peacefully on his high, narrow bed, with, to Jo-Jo's surprise, a tortoise resting on a clean white bandage wrapped tightly around his stomach. Marwick was dozing in a chair beside him and on the other side of the bed sat Dandra, watching her patient, her fingers resting lightly on his wrist.

Dandra looked up and smiled wearily. “He's very weak,” she
said. “He's lost so much blood. But they got the blade out.” She pointed to an oblong metal dish resting on a table beneath a small, high window.

Septimus picked up the dish and showed it to Jo-Jo and Tod. “Vicious thing,” he said. A long, thin sliver of steel lay at the bottom of the dish, bright and sharp in a sudden shaft of moonlight. The ghostly inhabitants of the Quiet Room glanced at one another. Some of them were almost transparent, shocked by what they had recently witnessed.

Jo-Jo, too, was shocked. “Cool,” he said, trying to hide his dismay at how ill his brother looked. “Yeah. Totally cool.”

There was a strained silence and then Dandra said, “Alice, you look exhausted. Time for bed.”

Tod wandered out through the stillness of the nighttime Sick Bay, past the subdued group of Heaps who had settled down for the night vigil, and slipped silently into the dimly lit corridor. She was so tired that she would have walked straight past Kaznim without a thought, had a small snuffle not alerted
her to the presence of a curled-up form sleeping on the waiting bench.

Bother
, thought Tod. The last thing she wanted was to have to wake Kaznim, get her back down the stairs and then find somewhere for her to sleep—which was not going to be easy, as the dorm was full. Sternly, Tod told herself not to be so mean. Kaznim was lost and alone in a strange place and she knew only too well how that felt.

Tod went over to Kaznim and shook her gently. “Kaznim. Kaznim . . . wake up.” The girl stirred and her arm knocked something to the floor. It landed with a clatter and Tod knelt down to pick it up. It was a gold box. The lid had come off and some multicolored cards had spilled out. Tod gathered the cards together and as she touched each one a faint buzz of alien
Magyk
fluttered through her fingers. Tod was surprised—she hadn't thought that Kaznim had anything
Magykal
about her.

In the dimness of the corridor's nightlights, Tod could not see if she had found all the cards. Not wanting to lose any of what was obviously Kaznim's treasured possession, she took a small
FlashLight
from her Apprentice belt—a thin green cylinder with a black spot at one end and a white spot at the
other. Tod pressed the white spot and a beam of darkness shone from the black. Blearily, she pressed the black spot and a needle-sharp beam of light came shining out from the white. She scanned the floor beneath the bench looking for any stray cards and found a surprising amount of grit and two cards: a bright red and a pale blue. On the red card the
FlashLight
showed the diagram of a tiny dragon curled within an oval.