Under Septimus’s instructions, Tod ushered the Drummins away from the Magyk and they watched from the other side of the Hub. They saw a bright blue mist flow from the ExtraOrdinary Wizard’s hands; it spread across the Seal and Tod felt the familiar buzz of Magyk in the air. She had become used to the background of Magyk in the Wizard Tower but now, as concentrated Magykal energy flowed around the Hub, setting up eddies and swirls, Tod felt her old dizziness return. She leaned back against the wall, determined not to fall over. This was powerful Magyk, and Tod wanted to see it.
The purple skin across Way I was now coated with a shining blue mist that stuck so close that it looked as though the Seal was covered in wet paint. Tod watched Septimus stand back, bringing a thin stream of blue with him, which he took into both hands and formed into a ball. Then he muttered something and breathed onto the blue ball. At once, its color changed to bright orange. The orange flowed along the strip linking to the Seal and then spread rapidly over it. Tod watched, fascinated, as the tight skin of the Seal began to dissolve and be replaced by a soft orange mist through which she saw three figures. Two were slumped to the ground, but a small one came hurtling out, yelling, “Help us, oh, please help! He’s dying!”
Septimus hurried into the arch and Tod heard a sudden gasp. “Sam!” he cried. “It’s Sam! And Marwick!”
INTO THE CLIFF
Tod was dispatched to the Wizard Tower for two strong helpers and a stretcher. Her choice of helpers was, Septimus thought, exactly right. And so Sam Heap was carried home by Marwick and three of his brothers: Septimus, Edd and Erik Heap. Behind them followed Tod, holding Kaznim’s free hand, while in the other Kaznim clutched her tortoise, caught in the nick of time as he fell from the stretcher.
Kaznim was startled when they emerged into a shockingly cold whiteness over which a myriad of lights and colors danced, reflecting off what she assumed was sparkling white sand. She shivered in her thin cotton coat and held Ptolemy close for comfort. Something told Kaznim that she was in a place so far away that it would take many months to travel back to her star-strewn tent. Tod saw the look of bewilderment on the young girl’s face and put her arm protectively around her. She remembered the first time she had walked into the Wizard Tower courtyard, how strange it had seemed and how the onslaught of Magyk had been so overpowering that she had fainted.
Kaznim, despite being from the Magykal Draa family, was not particularly sensitive to Magyk, but she was glad of Tod’s comforting arm as she slithered and slid on the peculiarly slippery, cold sand. As they reached the wide marble steps that led up to the entrance to the Wizard Tower, Kaznim looked in awe at the massive structure rearing above her—surely it was impossible that something so tall could remain standing. As she followed Sam’s stretcher up to a pair of vast, solid silver doors, which were now slowly opening before them, Kaznim felt as though she were walking into the face of a cliff.
An outbreak of panic mixed with excitement greeted the stretcher-bearers as they hurried into the Great Hall. Kaznim watched wide-eyed as a sea of people in blue robes surrounded the stretcher, and the young man in purple took charge. She saw a flash of silver at the far side of the Hall, and something that looked like a giant corkscrew that went up into a star-filled sky above began to spin so fast that it reminded her of a whirling sand dancer. Suddenly a flash of blue appeared through the sky and rotated rapidly downward; the next moment a tall woman with short dark hair through which ran a dramatic streak of white was jumping off and hurrying somewhat unsteadily across to the stretcher. Kaznim had an odd feeling that she recognized her, although she had no idea where from. She watched intently as the woman knelt beside the stretcher and placed two fingers on Sam’s neck. Kaznim knew from her expression that the woman was expecting something very bad, but she looked up with a grim smile and said, “Faint, fluttering. He’s alive.”
Marwick made a strange choking noise and with renewed energy the stretcher-bearers picked up their burden and hurried Sam away to the back of the Hall. A sea of blue closed behind them and Kaznim could see no more.
Tod became aware that Kaznim was shivering violently. “Hey, you’re cold,” she said.
Kaznim shook her head. She was something, but she didn’t know what.
Tod thought she knew. “You must be tired and hungry,” she said.
Kaznim nodded even though she felt neither. All she felt was lost.
“I’ll take you up to the Apprentices’ common room,” Tod said. “You can have some supper and I will find you a bed.” Kaznim bit her lip. She didn’t want to sleep in this strange place, so full of people, so heavy with stone, so bright with light. All she wanted was her own bed in the tranquility of a starry tent with the soft breathing of her mother asleep in the darkness. Not trusting herself to speak, Kaznim allowed Tod to lead her onto the strange moving corkscrew.
Kaznim had seen stairs, but never any that moved. Numbly, she followed Tod’s example. She stepped onto the silver platform and watched the ground drop slowly away. “They’re weird, aren’t they?” Tod said. “I remember the first time I went on them it was really scary.”
Kaznim nodded uncertainly as the world spun around. As they rose up through the height of the Great Hall, toward the star-studded sky, she began to feel sick. And then, to her surprise, they passed through a hole in the sky and emerged into another, much simpler, smaller space with a floor all of its own.
“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 tha
t 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.
APOTHECARY TORTOISE
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
FIFTY-SIX HOURS TO HATCHING
THE EGG BOX
Forgotten 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 o
f 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.”