irritation. His Apprentice would fix that.
Marcellus led Marcia and Septimus back through the sooty snake of the Labyrinth to Alchemie Quay. Marcia looked at her Apprentice and shook her head—his clean-this-morning Apprentice robes were completely blackened with soot.
“I give you permission to wear your Alchemie robes this month, Septimus,” she said. “Frankly, after a day down here, I don’t think anyone will be able to tell the difference.”
6
L ISTENING
S eptimus’s month in the Great Chamber of Alchemie was not as interesting as he had hoped. After the initial excitement of removing the sand—which he managed in three days by fixing up a siphoning arrangement that drew the sand out through the Labyrinth, scouring it clean as it went, and sending the sand into the UnderFlow Pool—Septimus spent his time cleaning, unpacking and doing more cleaning. Marcellus was forever disappearing— checking things, Apprentice —and Septimus spent a lot of the time on his own. He began to count down the days to his return to the Wizard Tower.
Marcellus’s disappearances were, of course, when he was tending the Fyre . It was going well but he dared not leave it for too long. The water flow was good—he had been a little anxious about dumping the sand in the UnderFlow Pool, but it was deep enough to take it. His main concern now was venting the Cauldron heat, which was growing daily. Toward the end of Septimus’s month, Marcellus took a reluctant decision to open four more vents. He chose their positions carefully and hoped that no one would notice.
On a beautiful, bright dawn two days before the end of his month with Marcellus, Septimus was trudging to work, heading for the entrance to the Great Chamber that Marcellus had recently opened. His journey took him past the Palace and the bizarre collection of snow sculptures that were being created on the lawns in front. He stopped for a moment to look at the new ones and then reluctantly set off. It was going to be another beautiful day, but he would spend it underground in candlelight and it would be dark by the time he returned.
On the other side of the Palace, Jenna was drawing back the curtains from her bedroom window. She saw the sun climbing over the snow-covered hills in the distance, the pinky-green streaks of cloud low in the sky and the sparkling orange glints of light on the shining black surface of the river. It was beautiful—but it was cold . Jenna shivered. She was not surprised to see ice frosting the windows; it was now more than four weeks into the Big Freeze and a deep chill pervaded everything. She dressed quickly in her winter robes and, wrapping herself in her fur-lined cloak, was out of her bedroom fast.
The ghost of Sir Hereward, who guarded her bedroom door, woke with a start. A ghostly “Good Morning, Princess” followed Jenna as she strode briskly down the corridor.
“Morning, Sir Hereward,” she called back over her shoulder, and disappeared around the corner.
Sir Hereward shook his head. The Living were always in such a hurry, he thought. The ghost performed an old-fashioned military about-turn and began a slow march down to the Palace doors where, once the Princess had left her room, he now spent his days on guard.
Downstairs, Jenna grabbed a few leftovers from the supper table, pulled her red winter fur-lined cloak tighter around herself, and headed out, winding her way through the assortment of snow sculptures, stopping briefly to admire her favorites. As she drew near the Palace Gate, Jenna saw two large, ungainly figures loitering on either side. She approached cautiously, wondering who they might be. And then she remembered—it was the day of the annual Castle snowman competition. She pushed open the Gate and walked out through two guard snowmen.
“Happy Snowman Day, Princess!” one of the snowmen said.
Jenna jumped in surprise. Then she saw the bob of a red bobble hat followed by the cheeky grin of a small boy
Marcellus led Marcia and Septimus back through the sooty snake of the Labyrinth to Alchemie Quay. Marcia looked at her Apprentice and shook her head—his clean-this-morning Apprentice robes were completely blackened with soot.
“I give you permission to wear your Alchemie robes this month, Septimus,” she said. “Frankly, after a day down here, I don’t think anyone will be able to tell the difference.”
6
L ISTENING
S eptimus’s month in the Great Chamber of Alchemie was not as interesting as he had hoped. After the initial excitement of removing the sand—which he managed in three days by fixing up a siphoning arrangement that drew the sand out through the Labyrinth, scouring it clean as it went, and sending the sand into the UnderFlow Pool—Septimus spent his time cleaning, unpacking and doing more cleaning. Marcellus was forever disappearing— checking things, Apprentice —and Septimus spent a lot of the time on his own. He began to count down the days to his return to the Wizard Tower.
Marcellus’s disappearances were, of course, when he was tending the Fyre . It was going well but he dared not leave it for too long. The water flow was good—he had been a little anxious about dumping the sand in the UnderFlow Pool, but it was deep enough to take it. His main concern now was venting the Cauldron heat, which was growing daily. Toward the end of Septimus’s month, Marcellus took a reluctant decision to open four more vents. He chose their positions carefully and hoped that no one would notice.
On a beautiful, bright dawn two days before the end of his month with Marcellus, Septimus was trudging to work, heading for the entrance to the Great Chamber that Marcellus had recently opened. His journey took him past the Palace and the bizarre collection of snow sculptures that were being created on the lawns in front. He stopped for a moment to look at the new ones and then reluctantly set off. It was going to be another beautiful day, but he would spend it underground in candlelight and it would be dark by the time he returned.
On the other side of the Palace, Jenna was drawing back the curtains from her bedroom window. She saw the sun climbing over the snow-covered hills in the distance, the pinky-green streaks of cloud low in the sky and the sparkling orange glints of light on the shining black surface of the river. It was beautiful—but it was cold . Jenna shivered. She was not surprised to see ice frosting the windows; it was now more than four weeks into the Big Freeze and a deep chill pervaded everything. She dressed quickly in her winter robes and, wrapping herself in her fur-lined cloak, was out of her bedroom fast.
The ghost of Sir Hereward, who guarded her bedroom door, woke with a start. A ghostly “Good Morning, Princess” followed Jenna as she strode briskly down the corridor.
“Morning, Sir Hereward,” she called back over her shoulder, and disappeared around the corner.
Sir Hereward shook his head. The Living were always in such a hurry, he thought. The ghost performed an old-fashioned military about-turn and began a slow march down to the Palace doors where, once the Princess had left her room, he now spent his days on guard.
Downstairs, Jenna grabbed a few leftovers from the supper table, pulled her red winter fur-lined cloak tighter around herself, and headed out, winding her way through the assortment of snow sculptures, stopping briefly to admire her favorites. As she drew near the Palace Gate, Jenna saw two large, ungainly figures loitering on either side. She approached cautiously, wondering who they might be. And then she remembered—it was the day of the annual Castle snowman competition. She pushed open the Gate and walked out through two guard snowmen.
“Happy Snowman Day, Princess!” one of the snowmen said.
Jenna jumped in surprise. Then she saw the bob of a red bobble hat followed by the cheeky grin of a small boy
Similar Books
