Tod was jubilant. “Jim Knee, you are amazing!”
Jim Knee had never done an out-of-boundary Transformation before. It was a risky thing, for it took the jinnee into an ethereal state where he could be trapped in a receiving vessel once again. Slowly, he gathered himself into his normal boundaries, and resumed his solid state. Jim Knee allowed himself a satisfied smile. He had always wanted to be a terrifying jinnee and now, acting under Septimus’s Command to “keep my Apprentice safe,” he had done it. However, they were not safe yet. The drumming had begun again and he could hear the distant shouts of the guards. Woozily, Jim Knee stood up. “Time to go,” he said.
They ventured warily out into the sunlight of the festooned alley with Jim Knee leading the way. He seemed a little unsteady on his feet but he hurried along with a loping gait, as if, Tod thought, he still had a trace of tiger within. Behind them they could now hear the heavy thud of booted feet, running in step, heading their way. Jim Knee sped up; they ran fast between the striped shadows cast by the ribbons above, following the jinnee, trusting that he knew where he was going. As they hurtled around yet another corner, they saw someone waiting by a lamppost festooned with red, below which lurked the shape of a snake.
It was Kaznim. She gave them an anxious wave but no one returned it. Kaznim had ratted on them.
Jim Knee stepped in. “Now, before we get into any unpleasantness, I would like to tell you three that if the young lady waiting for us had not been brave enough to stop a wandering tiger—that everyone else was running from, screaming—and ask it if it happened to be a jinnee, then you would all probably be in more pieces than you are right now. So just think about that before you say anything. Okay?”
“You mean, Kaznim went back to the treehouse and got you?”
“No, no. I was already here. I followed you through the avenue of weird trees. It took a bit of doing—those trees weren’t very helpful, I can tell you. You had all gone by the time I got to those funny little huts. The first one I tried I ended up in some ghastly snowy forest. So I tried the next and when I got into the courtyard I saw your footprints. I jumped the wall—it’s a wonderful thing to be a tiger—and had a bit of fun with the denizens of this fair city. And then I was approached by this young lady here, who was most insistent that I rescue you. I must do anything I could, she said. And she offered to come with me too. So all is not as it seems. I suggest a few thank-yous might be in order.”
Neither Tod nor Oskar nor Ferdie felt they could go that far. When Kaznim had left them to face the drummers alone, they doubted she had done it with the idea of saving them. But saved them she had, and they decided to let things be.
Kaznim smiled uncertainly at them all, and then to Jim Knee she said, “I like your hat.”
Jim Knee smiled. His hat—which looked like a pile of yellow donuts stuck on his head—was something he was very proud of.
“Thank you, kind lady,” he said with a small bow. “Now, lead on, Macduff.”
“Who’s Macduff?” Oskar asked, looking around, puzzled.
“The Thane of Fife,” Jim Knee answered.
“Who?” said Tod.
“Oh, ignore me,” Jim Knee said. “I’m feeling a bit light-headed with all that boundary shifting. It’s an old saying from an ancient earl—one of my favorite writers. A misquote, actually. Lead on, Miss Na-Draa. The sooner we are out of here, the better.”
Kaznim led the way, taking them confidently around twists and turns and through the narrowest of opes, cuts and paths and passageways. She ran fast and steadily through the maze until, halfway down a dark and chilly corridor between two high walls Kaznim stopped beneath a tall tower. She turned around with a puzzled expression. “I . . . I don’t know why I came down here,” she said.
“What do you mean?” Tod asked a little sharply. She had been wondering where they were going for some time. It seemed a convoluted way to get to one of the main routes out of the city.
Kaznim rubbed her eyes and blinked. She looked quite disoriented. “I don’t understand it . . .” She shook her head. “This isn’t the right way. I know it isn’t.”
“So why on earth did you take us here?” Tod asked crossly.
“Now, now,” Jim Knee said. “No arguing. It’s easy to get lost here. I’m sure that—”
A sudden scream from Kaznim rang out. A dark, winged animal was falling from the window of the tower and heading for them. Before anyone had time to react, a net had dropped onto Tod and was wrapping itself around her like a snake. Ferdie and Oskar tried to tear it away, and Jim Knee pulled out his flick knife and leaped up to try to cut the rope that snaked down from the window at the top of the tower. But Jim Knee, like Ferdie and Oskar, could do nothing. The rope was like steel and already Tod was being lifted out of his reach. Up, up, up she went, swinging precariously on the end of a thin rope while someone at the top of the tower hauled her in like a fish. The jinnee watched in dismay, knowing there was nothing he could do. His out-of-boundary Transformation had exhausted him and he must stay as he was for some hours before he could Transform again.
Tod looked down. She saw four horrified faces staring up at her—and then she was dragged through an open window into a cool, round room at the top of the tower. The net opened and she was dumped unceremoniously onto the cold tile floor.
THE DARKE DART
Ferdie and Oskar stared up in shock. A hand reached out from the window; between its finger and thumb was a small but deadly Darke Dart. A moment later the Dart was winging its way down to the upturned faces below. Jim Knee caught it. The poisoned tips cut through his fingers and he dropped to the ground. Ferdie rushed to help him, but the jinnee shooed her away. “Run!” he said, his voice harsh with pain. “Go back to the Forest.”
“We’re not leaving Tod,” Oskar said stonily.
“On her own,” added Ferdie.
“She is not alone. I am here,” Jim Knee said hoarsely.
Ferdie, Oskar and Kaznim took a few steps back, but they did not take their eyes off Jim Knee. He looked awful. A blue pallor was spreading across his skin and his face was shiny with sweat. No one liked to say it, but right then it didn’t look like Jim Knee would be there for much longer.
“Get out of here. Now . . .” Jim Knee gasped. “Kaznim . . . knows the way.”
“We’re not going anywhere with her,” Ferdie told him. “She set this up.”
“She’s a double-crossing low-down spy,” Oskar added for good measure.
Kaznim looked aghast. “I’m not! I promise you. I don’t know why I came here. I don’t.”
“Witch’s Draw,” Jim Knee said weakly. He looked at Kaznim. “I saw it . . . in your eyes when you turned around. Not . . . your fault.”
“Nothing ever seems to be her fault,” Ferdie observed tartly. “But bad stuff always happens when she’s around.”
“Some people . . . are unlucky that way,” Jim Knee said with fellow feeling. “Now go.”
“No,” Oskar and Ferdie said together. “We are not leaving Tod.”
Jim Knee did not have the strength to argue. “Very well. But go for now. To the courtyard. When midnight strikes . . . she will come to you. All will be . . . as it will be.”
“Just because you are a jinnee doesn’t mean you have to talk in riddles,” Ferdie told him sternly.
“I shall talk how I want to,” Jim Knee said sharply. His annoyance seemed to give him strength. He sat up and said, “Now go away. What use is your having a jinnee if you won’t let him be one? Now just pop off, will you?”
An arm shooting out from the window at the top of the tower stopped any more discussion. Reluctantly, they turned and walked slowly back through the chill of the dismal, dark alley.
Kaznim led the way back to Ferdie’s dragon, which lay waiting for them in the dust. Oskar opened the door with two quick turns of his lockpick and in a moment they were inside the courtyard.
They stood in the heavy, late-afternoon heat and listened to the stillness broken only
by the soft burble of water running in the culvert.
“We’ll stay here until midnight,” Ferdie said. “And if Tod isn’t back by then we’re going to go to that horrible tower and rescue her. Whatever Jim Knee says.”
“How will we know when midnight is?” Oskar wondered.
“There will be no mistaking it when it comes,” Kaznim said.
Ferdie and Oskar glanced at each other. Kaznim’s words sounded ominous.
THE PRISONER IN THE TOWER
Within the tendrils of the Darke net, Tod shivered. Every spot where the fine strands touched her skin felt like burning ice. She sat absolutely still while Marissa snipped through the net with a tiny, sharp pointed pair of silver scissors, and to her relief, not once did the witch’s hand slip. While she sat, Tod had time to work out her strategy. She was very frightened, but she was determined not to give Marissa the satisfaction of knowing it. And so, as the last strands fell to the floor and Marissa trotted over to the window to fix its bar back into place, Tod pushed down her fear and very deliberately replaced it with anger.
When Marissa turned around with a smug little smile she was met with an angry glare. “You pig,” Tod said. “You low-down piece of—”
“La-di-da, la-di-da,” Marissa trilled loudly, drowning out the rest of Tod’s words. “Just calm down. I’ll bring you a nice sherbet and some stuffed dates.”
“You can stuff your dates where the—”
“Now, now, Alice,” Marissa interrupted. “There is no need to be such a grumpy cow. You’re lucky—the trouble is, you just don’t realize it yet. You’re on the fast track to fame and fortune. You’ll soon be back at the top of your precious Wizard Tower with a much more powerful boss. Septimus Heap is nothing”—Marissa snapped her fingers dismissively—“compared to His Highness.”
“His Highness?”
Marissa glanced at the door nervously and dropped her voice to a whisper. “Oraton-Marr. He likes to be called that. See, there’s a handy little tip from me. Don’t say I don’t look out for you.” Marissa giggled and pranced out before Tod had the time to fling back a retort. She heard a heavy bolt being slid across, then the tinny sound of footsteps disappearing down stone stairs.
Tod raced to the window to look out. She had watched Marissa drop the Darke Dart and was terrified of what she might see below. But there was no one there. No one. Tod bit back a surge of disappointment. She had hoped for some friendly faces gazing up at her. But her friends had gone. They hadn’t even bothered to wait a few measly minutes.
Tod leaned back against the wall and told herself not to be so silly. To wait beneath somewhere where two Darke Darts had been thrown was suicide. She should be grateful that neither Oskar nor Ferdie was lying in the dust far below. However, Tod was not a bit grateful that Kaznim seemed to have escaped too. The more she thought about it, the more obvious it was that Kaznim had led them into a trap. She sighed. Jim Knee was a rotten judge of character.
Depressed by the emptiness outside the window, Tod slowly began to pace her prison. It was a small, circular room and it took her thirty paces to walk the circumference. She came first to a little door set in the wall about two feet up from the floor. She pulled it open to find a musty cupboard containing a bucket and a shelf with a folded blanket and small, embroidered pillow. Apart from the cupboard the only other details of interest were the door through which Marissa had gone out—ancient wood hard as stone and studded with flat-headed nails—and the window through which she had been dragged, which now had an iron bar screwed into the middle of it. The floor felt solid and was covered with tiny green and blue diamond-shaped tiles and the walls were smooth, reddish stone—as was the ceiling, which curved up into a perfectly round dome. The only ways out were the door and the barred window.
Tod paced the circumference a few more times. She must, she told herself, keep a clear head. It shouldn’t be too difficult to outwit a birdbrained, two-timing witch like Marissa Lane. Tod pushed away a niggling thought that Marissa was possibly not as birdbrained as people thought she was and was, in fact, turning out to be a particularly nasty force to be reckoned with. Tod wandered back to the window and did what all prisoners do if they can—she gazed out to the free world beyond. Once again she peered down to see if there was any sign of Jim Knee or Ferdie and Oskar but the alley was deserted. She stared down for some time, hoping to catch a glimpse of someone hiding or watching out for her, but she saw nothing. To counter her feeling of desolation, Tod looked out across the flat red rooftops, many with faded washing spread out to dry in the sun, trying to spot any sign of life. There were a few children playing on a rooftop some distance away and an old man laying out some faded clothes to dry. There was an assortment of cats dozing in the evening warmth and oddly, a small donkey standing patiently on a rooftop. Then once again Tod looked down into the alley below, but as ever it was deserted.
To take her mind off people—or the lack of them—Tod turned her attention to the glimpse of desert on the far right of her view. It, too, was empty. There was nothing to see but sand dunes rolling into the distance like a long, slow swell on the ocean. The very thought of the sea made Tod feel horribly homesick for the village where she had grown up. There had been sand there too, but it had been mixed with grasses, bounded by the ocean and home to a village of tall houses on stilts. The sand Tod now saw was vast and featureless. She watched the sun dipping toward the distant dunes and saw the sky turn as red as the mud from which the entire city seemed to be built.
Marissa kept Tod waiting. It was not until the room was nearly dark that she returned with a tray on which were a small candle, a large jug of sherbet and a plate of dates stuffed with marzipan. “His Highness is dining with the Queen tonight,” Marissa said. “He’ll fetch you in the morning. You’ll find some bedding in the garderobe and a bucket.” She sniggered. “Not quite the delights of the Wizard Tower but you’ll be back there soon enough. Ha-ha. See ya!” With that Marissa was gone, slamming the door. Once again Tod heard the bolt being shot and the tippy-tappy footsteps departing.
Tod drank most of the sherbet—a sweet, slightly fizzy drink that tasted of a fruit she did not recognize—but she felt too miserable to eat. And then she resumed her place at the window and watched the nighttime lights of the city appear.
ITSY-BITSY SPIDER
In the time-honored manner of jinn, Jim Knee was not as absent as he appeared to be. Lurking in the shadows at the foot of the tower—waiting for the onset of night, when the sharp eyesight of arachnid-eating birds was no longer a danger—was a fat yellow spider. It sat huddled in the dust-filled angle where the foundations of the tower rose up from the alleyway and tried to avoid looking at any of its eight hairy legs, which were folded beneath it in a most uncomfortable manner. Jim Knee had a revulsion for exoskeletons and a difficulty with more than four legs. The spider combined both to an unsatisfactory degree but he could see no other solution to his present problem, which was to obey his Master and keep his Apprentice safe—an Apprentice who seemed to have a remarkable talent for getting into dangerous situations. Jim Knee tried to shake his head but discovered he didn’t really have one.
As the shadows of twilight began to deepen, the spider unfolded its legs, stood up, toppled over, untangled the third leg from the fourth, and after three attempts managed to balance on all eight legs. Then it set off unsteadily to find some food. It had a long night ahead.
It was many hours later when the spider returned to the foot of the tower, replete with the liquefied insides of two moths and a baby beetle. All of its eight eyes looked up anxiously at the vertical red wall that rose before it, and like a climber checking his rope, the spider checked its spinnerets and spun a short length of silk. It tickled, but to the spider’s frustration it was unable to giggle. It placed two wavering front legs onto the rough red mud of the wall and began to climb, remembering to keep four legs on the wall at all times. Four legs down . . . four legs up . . . four legs down . . . four legs up . . . was the rhyth
m to which the spider climbed.
Tod did not like spiders. So when a particularly large one sporting a nasty, poisonous-looking yellow body and long hairy legs appeared on the window ledge and began waving its two front legs at her, Tod fought very hard to suppress a shriek. She backed away from the window, where she had been gazing up at the stars, and watched it for some moments, wondering what to do. The thought that the spider might drop into the room and then she would be spending the night with it at large gave her courage. Steeling herself, she ran at it and flicked it off the window ledge.
Jim Knee suddenly found himself flying. Instinctively, he stretched his hairy legs out like a parachute to slow his fall and the spinnerets in his abdomen began churning. He became aware that above him a silken thread was trailing in the breeze, and as the ground drew frighteningly close he felt the thread snag against the rough wall of the tower and his fall was abruptly halted. Jim Knee dangled ignominiously for some seconds as his spider brain struggled to take in what had happened. He swung back and forth like a demented pendulum until a deft twist took one of the swings close to the wall. Jim Knee’s spiky pincers at the end of his two front legs (how he hated pincers) caught against the stone, and in a moment he was scuttling back up the wall, trailing the silken thread behind him.
Tod was horrified to see two yellow spider legs waving at her as they felt their way over the windowsill. Once again she steeled herself to flick the spider away but this time the spider was prepared. It wrapped its legs around the window bar and Tod recoiled. She watched the spider, wondering what to do. Slowly, the spider unwrapped its legs from the bar and once more waved them around. Tod was dismayed. It was obviously one of those aggressive ones that jumped on people and bit them. Tod made a decision: she was going to have to kill it. She picked up the brass tray that Marissa had left behind and slowly advanced.