Syren (22 page)

M
errin Meredith had made the mistake
of hiding in the doorway of Larry’s Dead Languages. Larry didn’t like loiterers and was out the door like a spider that has felt the twitch of a tasty fly in its web. He was nonplussed at finding a Manuscriptorium scribe in his doorway.

“You come for a translation?” he growled.

“Uh?” squeaked Merrin, wheeling around.

Larry was a beefy, red-headed man with a wild look in his eye brought on by studying too many violent dead-language texts. “Translation?” he repeated. “Or what?”

In his jumpy state Merrin took this as a threat. He began
to back out of the doorway.

“There he is!”
Barney’s high voice squealed in excitement. “He’s at Mr. Larry’s!”

Merrin briefly considered making a dash for it into Larry’s shop, but Larry was pretty much blocking the entire doorway, so he scooted out into the wilds of Wizard Way and took his chances.

A few seconds later Barney Pot was clinging to Merrin’s robes like a little terrier. Merrin struggled to pry Barney off, but Barney hung on even tighter, until a large rottweiler in patchwork bustled up and grabbed him. Merrin said a very rude word.

“Merrin Meredith,
not
in front of little children!”

Merrin scowled.

Aunt Zelda looked Merrin in the eye, something she knew he did not like. He looked away. “Now, Merrin,” she said sternly, “I don’t want any lies from you. I
know
what you’ve done.”

“I haven’t done anything,” muttered Merrin, looking anywhere but at Aunt Zelda. “What are you fish faces staring at?” he yelled. “Go
away
!” This he addressed to a gathering group of onlookers, most of whom had followed Aunt Zelda down Wizard Way after her argument with Marcia. They
took no notice whatsoever; they were having a good day out and were not about to let Merrin spoil it. One or two of them sat down on a nearby bench to watch in comfort.

“Now listen to me, Merrin Meredith—”

“Not my name,” Merrin muttered sullenly.

“Of course it’s your name.”

“Not.”

“Well, whatever you call yourself, you listen to me. There are two things you are going to do before I let you go—”

Merrin perked up. So the old witch was going to let him go, was she? His fear of being taken back to that smelly old island in the middle of the Marshes and being forced to eat cabbage sandwiches for the rest of his life began to subside. “What
things
?” he demanded sulkily.

“First, you will apologize to Barney for what you did to him.”

“Didn’t do anything to him.” Merrin looked at his feet.

“Oh, do stop playing games, Merrin. You know you did. You mugged him, for heaven’s sake. And you took his—or rather my—SafeCharm.”

“Some SafeCharm,” he muttered.

“So you admit it. Now apologize.”

The crowd was growing larger, and all Merrin wanted to do was to get out of there. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“Properly,” Aunt Zelda demanded.

“Huh?”

“I suggest: ‘Barney, I am very sorry that I did such a horrible thing, and I hope you will forgive me.’”

Very reluctantly Merrin repeated Aunt Zelda’s words.

“That’s all right, Merrin,” said Barney happily. “I forgive you.”

“So, can I go now?” asked Merrin petulantly.

“I said
two
things, Merrin Meredith.” Aunt Zelda turned to the onlookers. “If you will excuse me, good people, I would like to have a confidential word with this young man. Perhaps you would allow us a few moments?”

The onlookers looked disappointed.

Merrin rallied. “Important Manuscriptorium business,” he told them. “Top secret and all that. Good-
bye
.”

Reluctantly the onlookers drifted away.

Aunt Zelda shook her head in exasperation—that boy had nerve. Before Merrin could make a break for it, Aunt Zelda put a hefty boot on the hem of his trailing robes.
“What?”
demanded Merrin.

Aunt Zelda lowered her voice. “Now give me the bottle back.”

Merrin looked at his boots once more.

“Give it to me, Merrin.”

Very reluctantly Merrin pulled the little gold bottle from his pocket and handed it over. Aunt Zelda inspected it and saw with dismay that the seal had been broken. “You
opened
it,” she said angrily.

For once Merrin looked guilty. “I thought it was scent,” he said. “But it was horrible. I could have
died
.”

“True,” Aunt Zelda agreed, turning the empty—and much lighter—little gold bottle over and over in her hand. “Now, Merrin. This is important, and I do not want any lies, understand?”

Sulkily Merrin nodded.

“Did you tell the jinnee you were Septimus Heap?”

“Yeah, ’course I did. That
is
my name.”

Aunt Zelda sighed. This was bad. “It is not your
real
name, Merrin,” she said patiently. “It is not the name your mother gave you.”

“It was the name I was called for ten years,” he said. “I’ve had it longer than
he
has.”

Despite her anger with him, Aunt Zelda had some sympathy for Merrin. What he said was true, he
had
been called Septimus Heap for the first ten years of his life. Aunt Zelda knew that Merrin had had a rough time, but it didn’t give him license to terrorize little children and steal from them.

“That’s enough of that, Merrin,” she said sternly. “Now, I want you to tell me what you said when the jinnee asked you, ‘What Do You Will, Oh Master?’”

“Yeah, well…”

“Well what?” Aunt Zelda tried not to imagine the kind of things that Merrin might have asked the jinnee to do.

“I told it to go away.”

Aunt Zelda felt a surge of relief. “You did?”

“Yeah. It called me stupid, so I told it to go away.”

“And did it?”

“Yeah. Then it locked me in, and I only just got out. It was
horrible
.”

“Serves you right,” Aunt Zelda said briskly. “Now, one last thing and then you can go.”

“What
now
?”

“What does the jinnee look like?”

“Like a banana.” Merrin laughed. “Like a
stupid giant
banana
!” With that, he pulled free of Aunt Zelda and raced toward the Manuscriptorium.

Aunt Zelda let him go. “Well, I think that narrows the field,” she muttered. She took hold of Barney Pot’s hand. “Barney,” she said, “would you like to help me look for a stupid giant banana?”

Barney grinned. “Ooh, yes
please
,” he said.

Back at the Great Arch, Marcia was as near to speechless as she ever got.

“Simon Heap,” she said icily. “Get out of here at
once
before I—”

“Marcia,
please
listen,” said Simon. “This is important.”

Whether it was because of the shock of the UnSealed Ice Tunnels and the lost Keye or a kind of desperate determination in Simon’s eyes, Marcia said, “Very well. Tell me and
then
get out of here.”

Simon hesitated. He desperately wanted to ask Marcia to give him back his Tracker Ball, Sleuth, so that he could send it after Lucy, but now that he was actually here, he knew that was an impossibility. If he wanted Marcia to listen to him he had to forget Sleuth.

“I heard something in the Port that I think you should know about,” he began.

“Well?” Marcia tapped her foot impatiently.

“There’s something going on at the CattRokk Light.”

Marcia looked at Simon with sudden interest.
“CattRokk Light?”

“Yes—”

“Come away from the Arch,” said Marcia. “Sound travels. We can walk down Wizard Way. You are leaving by the ferry at the South Gate, I take it—you can tell me as we go.”

And so Simon found himself walking next to the ExtraOrdinary Wizard in full view of anyone in the Castle who might be passing—something that he had never dreamed would happen,
ever
.

“You know the Ghost of the Vaults—Tertius Fume—I think he has something to do with it….”

Marcia was now extremely interested. “Go on,” she said.

“Well, you know I…um…used to come to the Manuscriptorium every week….” Simon blushed and found a sudden interest in the configuration of the paving stones of Wizard Way.

“Yes,” said Marcia sharply. “I am indeed aware of that fact.
Delivering bones, was it not?”

“Yes, it was. I—I am truly,
truly
sorry for that. I don’t know why I—”

“I don’t want your apologies. I take account of what people
do
, Simon, not what they say.”

“Yes, of course. Well, when I was there, Tertius Fume asked if I wanted to be his BondsMan. He wanted someone to do the running for him, as he put it. I turned him down.”

“Beneath you, was it?” asked Marcia.

Simon felt even more uncomfortable. Marcia was absolutely right. He had loftily informed Tertius Fume that he had far more important matters to attend to.

“Um. Well, the thing is, a few weeks later I saw Tertius Fume down on the old Manuscriptorium landing stage. He was talking to someone who looked to me like a pirate. You know, gold ring in his ear, parrot tattooed on his neck, that kind of thing. I thought then, old Goat Face—sorry, Tertius Fume—has found his BondsMan.”

“Old Goat Face is just fine by me,” said Marcia. “So tell me, Simon, what do you know about CattRokk?”

“Well, er, I know what shines above…and what lies beneath.”

Marcia raised her eyebrows. “You do?”

Simon looked embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” he said, “but because of where I ended up when I went a little bit, well, crazy, I do know lots of
stuff
. There are things that I know I shouldn’t know, but I do. And I can’t un-know them, if you see what I mean. But if I can put any of it to good use now, then maybe…well, maybe I can make things right. Maybe.” Simon stole a glance at Marcia but got no response.

“So I do know about the Isles of Syren, and about the Deeps and, er, things.”

“Really?” Marcia’s tone was icy. “So why have you come to tell me? Why
now
?”

“And—oh, it’s
awful
,” Simon babbled. “Lucy has run off with some kid—and I remember who he is now, he’s a friend of…of my brother, your Apprentice. He got me in the eye once with a catapult. Not your Apprentice, the friend. Anyway, he—the friend, not my brother—has run off with my Lucy, and they are on a boat belonging to Skipper Fry, who has a parrot on his neck and whose initials are T.F.F. and who takes the supplies out to CattRokk.”

Marcia took a moment to digest this. “So…let me get this straight. You are telling me that Tertius Fume has a
BondsMan who has gone to CattRokk Light?”

“Yes. And before he left, I saw the BondsMan talking to Una Brakket. She gave him a package.”

“Una Brakket?”
Distaste flooded Marcia’s face.

“Yes. I’m sure you know this too—neither she nor Tertius Fume is a friend of the Castle.”

“Hmm…. So how long ago did this Skipper Fry—this BondsMan—leave?”

“Two days ago. I came as soon as I could. There was an awful storm and—”

“Well, thank you,” said Marcia, cutting in. “That was very interesting.”

“Oh. Right. Well, if there’s anything I can do…”

“No, thank you, Simon. You’ll just catch the next ferry to the Port if you hurry. Good-bye.” With that, Marcia turned on her heel and strode back up Wizard Way.

Simon hurried off to the ferry feeling deflated. He knew he shouldn’t have expected anything, but he had hoped that, just possibly, Marcia might have involved him, asked his opinion—even allowed him to stay in the Castle for the night. But she hadn’t—and he didn’t blame her.

Marcia walked up Wizard Way, lost in thought. Her visit to the Manuscriptorium, combined with her surprise meeting with Simon Heap, had left her with a lot to think about. Marcia was convinced that Tertius Fume had something to do with the secret Ice Tunnel becoming UnSealed, and she was sure it was not a coincidence that his BondsMan was at that very moment on his way to CattRokk Light. Tertius Fume was up to something. “Evil old goat,” she muttered to herself.

Marcia was so deep in thought that when a tall, thin man wearing a ridiculous yellow hat ran in front of her, she walked right into him. They both went flying. Before Marcia could struggle to her feet she found herself surrounded by a group of concerned—and rather excited—onlookers who, too amazed to offer any help, stood gazing at the sight of their ExtraOrdinary Wizard lying flat out on Wizard Way. For once Marcia was glad to hear Aunt Zelda’s voice.

“Upsadaisy!” Aunt Zelda said, helping Marcia to her feet.

“Thank you, Zelda,” said Marcia. She brushed the dust off her new cloak and glared at the onlookers. “Don’t you have homes to go to?” she snapped. Sheepishly they drifted away, saving their stories to tell to their families and friends. (These tales were the origins of the legend of the mysterious
and powerful Yellow Wizard who, after an epic battle, laid the ExtraOrdinary Wizard out cold on Wizard Way, only to be captured by a tiny, heroic boy.)