As the flames leaped up around the logs, the Alchemist leaned across the table and began to speak slowly—a habit Septimus remembered from his Alchemie Apprentice days, when Marcellus had wanted his full attention. But that afternoon Marcellus did not lack attention from his audience—all eyes were on him. Accompanied by a distant rumble of thunder—and embarrassingly for Beetle, a much nearer rumble from his stomach—Marcellus Pye began to speak.
16
SNORRI’S MAP
T he Alchemist spoke in a
low and measured voice. “As soon as you had gone through the Great Doors of Time the Glass liquefied,” Marcellus said. “I cannot tell you what a terrible sight that was. My Great Triumph was nothing more than a pool of black stuff on the ground…” He shook his head as if still unable to believe what had happened. “Of course then I did not know that Nicko was your brother and, seeing as he had very nearly strangled me, I did not much care who he was. But some hours later he returned with the girl Snorri and told me how they had Come Through another Glass to rescue you, Apprentice.
I was impressed with his bravery, but when he asked if he and Snorri could Go Through the Glass of Time, all I could do was show them the ghastly black pool. If I had any bad feelings about Nicko, they vanished at that moment. He looked as though he had lost everything in the world—which of course he had. And Snorri too, but she did not react. With her everything was far below the surface, but Nicko…he was like an open book.”
Jenna sat twisting her hair. She found it very hard to hear about Nicko, and could not help but imagine how he must have felt.
Marcellus continued. “I could do nothing for them except offer them a place to stay and help them in any other way I could. And so for some months—I cannot remember how many—they lived here with me. At first they looked much the way you had, Apprentice—haunted and restless. But after some weeks I noticed that this had changed—they gained a purposeful air; they smiled and even laughed sometimes. At first I thought they had adapted to our Time, and maybe even preferred it—for it was a good Time—but one evening they came and told me about Aunt Ells. After that I knew better, and that soon they would be gone.”
“Aunt Ells,” Jenna mused. “I’m sure I have heard that name before.”
“’Tis likely, Princess,” said Marcellus. “Aunt Ells was Snorri’s great-aunt. They met her in the marketplace on the Way; she was selling pickled herring.”
“They met Snorri’s great-aunt?” asked Septimus. “In your Time?”
“Indeed. Nicko bought Snorri some pickled herring only to find that it was Aunt Ells who was selling it. The next thing I knew they were planning to leave for the deep forests of the Low Countries. It seems that Aunt Ells told them that there was—or is, I suppose—a place there where All Times Do Meet. It is called the House of Foryx.”
There was silence around the table as this sunk in. Another rumble of thunder rolled in the distance and a gust of wind rattled the windows.
“Foryx—they’re just in stories, they don’t really exist,” said Septimus.
“Who knows?” Marcellus replied. “I used to think that many things did not exist, but now I am not so sure.”
“Nicko used to pretend to be a Foryx when we were little,” said Jenna wistfully. “He used to pull his tunic over his head and make horrible growling noises. And he used to scare me with stories about how packs of Foryx would run and run and never stop, and how they would eat everything that was in their way—including little girls. And when we had to cross the road he used to make me look out for horses and carts—and Foryx.” She laughed. “Wasn’t he awful?”
Septimus felt wistful too. Whenever Jenna talked about what she called the old days in The Ramblings, when all the Heaps still lived as a family, it reminded him of all he had missed out on. It was not always a comfortable feeling. He changed the subject. “But what about Aunt Ells—how could she possibly be in your Time, Marcellus?”
“I remember what Snorri said now,” said Jenna. “Her aunt Ells fell through a Glass when she was young. No one ever saw her again.”
“I believe that is so,” said Marcellus. “She said she fell through the Glass and came out into the House of Foryx. It was a dreamlike place, apparently, where most people lost the will to leave—but Aunt Ells was a determined child and decided to get out as soon as she could and go back home. She got out all right, but unfortunately she got out into the wrong Time. Nicko told me he was certain that if he and Snorri got to the House of Foryx they could find their way back to their own Time. Aunt Ells, I believe, was not so sure.”
“So after they left,” asked Septimus, “did you ever hear from them again?”
Marcellus shook his head. “Things were difficult then. It should have been Esmeralda’s coronation, but she was in such a nervous state that she refused to come back to the Palace. She stayed in the Marram Marshes with my dear wife, Broda, for some years. I found myself in the position of Regent, running the Palace and also keeping my Alchemie experiments going. All too soon I realized that a whole year had gone by with no message. I was worried, as I had made a point of asking them to send word to let me know they were safe—the forests of the Low Countries were evil places then. I do not know how the forests are now but in my Time they were infested with monsters and monstrosities and all manner of foul things. Of course I told Nicko and Snorri all of this and more, but they would not listen. They were determined to go. I was very sorry. Well, I was sorry then,
for I thought their young lives had been cut short. But now…well, who knows?”
Jenna sat up, her eyes shining with hope. “So now you know something else?”
Marcellus shook his head with a rueful smile. “I know a little more now than I did then,” he said. “But who knows what it means? Let me tell you about Demelza Heap.”
“Demelza?” said Septimus. “I didn’t know there was a Demelza Heap.”
“Not now, maybe,” Marcellus replied. “But there was once. And Demelza told me that she had seen Nicko and Snorri.
Two hundred years after they left me.”
A silence descended in the room. “Two hundred years?” whispered Jenna.
A cold shiver went down Beetle’s spine. This was creepy stuff. Jillie Djinn was right about Alchemists, he thought.
Marcellus noticed Beetle’s expression. “You see, hungry scribe, I gave myself the curse of eternal life without eternal youth.” Beetle’s eyes widened in amazement. “I would not recommend it.” Marcellus grimaced. “When I reached about two hundred and fifty years of age, I was so ancient that I could no longer bear the bright lights and fast chatter of the world. Things had changed so much that I felt I scarcely belonged and I longed to retreat to a place of darkness and silence. And so I made my plans to inhabit the Old Way, which runs between the Palace and my old Alchemie Chamber.
It is a secret place belowground and it is not Sealed
with ice. You look surprised, scribe. Ah, there are still some places untouched by the cold hand of the Freeze. Anyway, I decided to sell my house while I still had the wit to do so—and that was when I met Demelza Heap. I still remember it—the moment I opened the door I recognized her. She was a striking woman, tall with green eyes and that same hair that you have, Apprentice—although I believe it had seen more of a comb than yours has recently. In my time as a young man she had kept a shop selling the fine glass apparatus that I used for my experiments. I had gotten to know her well over the years, but she disappeared on a trip to the master glassblowers of the Low Countries. She had gone to search out some special flasks for me and I always felt bad about that.
“So there was Demelza Heap on my doorstep, more than two hundred years after she had gone to the Low Countries, and she was as young as ever. She did not recognize me, of course, for I was decrepit by then. When I told her who I was she would not believe me at first, but she humored an old man and we fell to talking over a glass of mead. I think she enjoyed speaking to someone who did not call her crazy when she spoke about what had befallen her. She told me she had become lost in a silent forest and to escape a marauding pack of Foryx—that is what she said—she had found refuge in a place where, she told me, All Times Do Meet—a place she, too, called the House of Foryx.”
Jenna hardly dared ask the question. “Did…did you ask Demelza if she had seen Nicko?”
“I did.”
Jenna and Septimus exchanged excited glances.
“And…?” prompted Septimus.
Marcellus smiled. “Not only had she seen him—she had actually talked to him. She reckoned she was his great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-aunt. So at last I knew what had become of them.”
“Nicko made it to the House of Foryx,” said Jenna, excited.
“So it seems,” said Marcellus.
“So he can come back!”
“In a hundred years, maybe, so we’ll never see him anyway,” Septimus said gloomily. “Or he might have already come back a hundred years ago and now he’s de—”