Now!”
Lucy didn’t like Simon telling her what to do—and he didn’t usually dare—but this she knew was different. She had fled back down the steep, slippery slate steps, past the horrible old Magog chamber, and by the time Simon had joined her, Thunder was saddled once more and ready to go. She had asked Simon what was the problem, but all he would say was, “I did a See.”
They were nearing the other side of the river now and the water was a little calmer. Lucy brightened. If what Simon had said—that they were never going to set foot in that awful Observatory again—was true, then she was very pleased indeed, but she wished they weren’t going back to the Castle. She would much rather have been heading for the Port.
Lucy liked the Port; it was much more fun than the Castle and there was no risk of bumping into her mother and father there, either.
However, the most pressing reason that Lucy did not want to go back to the Castle was Simon himself. Simon seemed to have forgotten the events that had led up to him fleeing the place almost a year ago. Lucy did not know exactly what had happened but she had heard all kinds of terrible things—most of which she did not believe but some, she knew, were true. Her brother, Rupert, had told her he had seen Simon throwing a Thunderflash at Septimus, Nicko and Jenna—and Lucy knew that Rupert did not tell fibs. And there were other stories too: that Simon had tried to do some horrible Enchantment
on Marcia by using DomDaniel’s bones and had very nearly succeeded, and that Marcia had let it be known that if Simon ever set foot in the Castle again she would put him in the lock-up forever.
Lucy looked at her beautiful ring—most definitely not
from Drago Mills’s warehouse clearance sale—and sighed. Why couldn’t she and Simon be normal? All she wanted was for them to be like everyone else—planning to get married, looking for somewhere to live—just a room in The Ramblings would do. Why couldn’t she take Simon to see her mother and father and have him and Rupert be friends?
Why? It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t.
The boat pulled in to the night ferry quay, just below Sally Mullin’s Tea and Ale House. The ferryman, Micky Mullin, who was one of Sally’s many nephews, tied the boat up with a feeling of relief and bid his soaked passengers good night. He watched them walk unsteadily toward the South Gate—which, if you knew where to look, had a small door that was open all night—and wondered what they were up to. Even though Simon had taken care to pull down his hood well over his face, Micky had noticed the distinctive Heap features. Simon, now that he was in his early twenties, looked remarkably like a young version of his father, Silas. Micky decided to go see his aunt the next morning; she liked a bit of gossip—and she made a good barley cake, too.
As they walked along the deserted streets, keeping out of the worst of the wind, Lucy was still unusually silent.
“You okay, Luce?” asked Simon.
“I wish we weren’t back here,” Lucy replied. “I’m scared they’ll find you and lock you away forever.”
Simon drew out a crumpled letter that had been waiting for them on their return. Lucy heaved a sigh. She so wished she had not seen it tucked under a rock beside the path leading up to the Observatory entrance, but the envelope was stamped with the words DELIVERED BY THE PORT PACKET POST COMPANY, and she had thought it sounded exciting. Lucy now knew the contents of the wretched letter by heart, but she listened once again as Simon read out the tiny, spiky handwriting.
The letter was written on official Manuscriptorium notepaper and it said: Dear Simon,
I expect you have noticed that I have gone.
You may have noticed that something else has gone too. I have Slooth Sluuth Sleuth and it is MINE now. It likes being with me.
If you come to find it I will make sure someone finds you.
As you see from this writing paper, my talants
talents have at last been recognized as I have a very good job here. Much better than the one I had with you.
I am back where I belong now but no one will have you back again. Not in a milloin million years. Ha ha.
Your ex faitful faithfil faithful servant,
Merrin Meredith/Daniel Hunter/Septimus Heap
“I told you, Luce, he’s not getting away with this,” said Simon, shoving the letter back into his pocket. “He’s teamed up with two other wasters—dunno who Daniel Hunter is but I always knew that precious little Septimus was no good—and now he thinks he can scare me into letting him keep Sleuth. He’ll soon find out just how wrong he is.”
Lucy shook her head. What was it with boys and their fights? “It’s a long way to come just to get your ball back,” she said.
When Sarah Heap got over her fright and realized that it was Simon tapping on her sitting-room window she did not know whether to laugh or cry. So she did both—at the same time. Lucy stood by feeling awkward, thinking that maybe she should go to see her
mother. And then, as Sarah began to bombard Simon with questions—where had he been living, what was he doing, did he really do all those awful things everyone said he did and why hadn’t he written to her—Lucy thought that it was probably better not to see her mother. Not yet.
Lucy and Simon sat and dried out in Sarah’s sitting room beside the fire, eating the bread, cheese and apples that Sarah had found in the kitchen. Lucy liked the chaos of the sitting room, and she was fascinated by the stubbly duck with a crocheted waistcoat that Sarah had picked up from beside the fire and placed in her lap. Lucy liked the Heaps; they were so much more interesting than her own family.
“I don’t know what Marcia will do if she finds you here,” said Sarah, beginning to worry. “She’s always in a bad mood nowadays. Very touchy. And not very nice, either. I never see Septimus and she knows that, but whenever she sees me she makes a point of saying that she hopes I am enjoying seeing so much of him. Don’t make that face, Simon. I will not have you fighting with your little brother any longer, is that understood? Well, is it?”
Simon shrugged. “It’s not me who’s fighting. He’s stolen Sleuth,” he muttered under his breath.
“Stolen what?”
“Nothing,” growled Simon. “Doesn’t matter.”
Sarah sighed. She was thrilled to see Simon after so long but she wished he were not so angry. “No one must know you are here—no one,” she told him. “You and Lucy will have to lie low in the Palace until we can work something out.”
Lucy yawned and swayed sleepily. The yawn was not lost on Sarah. Carefully, she put down the duck and stood up beside the fire. “You must be exhausted,” she said, giving Lucy a concerned smile. “Why don’t we go find you a comfortable bed somewhere?” Lucy nodded gratefully. Simon’s mum was nice, she thought.
Half an hour later, Lucy was fast asleep in a warm bed in a huge Palace guest room overlooking the river. Simon however—one floor up under the eaves of the attic—was moodily staring out the window. It was then he noticed that something was wrong…something was missing. The lights of the Wizard Tower had disappeared. Simon threw open the window and stared into the windswept night. Spread out below were the lights of the Castle. The torches of the Wizard Way flickered and danced in the wind but the great ladder of purple, Magykal lights that always lit up the Castle sky was simply not there.
Simon knew he could not stay in his tiny room wondering what was going on at the Wizard Tower—he had to find out.
Feeling horribly like he was a little boy creeping out on an adventure when his mother had told him to stay in and do his homework, Simon eased open the creaky bedroom door and tiptoed down the darkened corridor. He was so intent on not making a noise that he did not notice Merrin—just returned from another late-night visit to Ma Custard’s—emerge from the top of the stairs. Horror-struck at the sight of Simon, Merrin nearly choked on his last banana-and-bacon chew. He stopped dead in his tracks, then ducked behind one of the huge beams that lined the walls.
As Simon tiptoed past, Merrin stared at his former employer like a rabbit Transfixed. He could not believe his eyes.
How had Simon tracked him down—how did he know? Not daring to even turn his head, Merrin watched Simon as he slunk down the stairs, treading as carefully as Merrin himself had during his first days at the Palace.
Simon snuck out of a side door and headed for the alley beside the Palace. He was soon striding up Wizard Way toward the darkness that he knew contained the Wizard Tower. Despite all the things he had done—which now Simon could hardly believe, what
had he been thinking of?—he retained a proprietary interest in the Wizard Tower. Deep down Simon Heap still wanted to be ExtraOrdinary Wizard. But he no longer wanted to do it the Darke way. That, he thought, was cheating. He wanted to do it properly, fair and square, so that Lucy would be proud of him.
Simon knew this was an impossible dream. But it didn’t stop him from being drawn to the Wizard Tower and it didn’t stop him wanting to know what was happening there.
As he approached the Great Arch at the entrance to the Courtyard, Simon saw a large but subdued crowd congregated outside, talking in low, anxious voices—he was not the only one to have noticed the absence of Magykal lights. Simon pulled the hood of his cloak over his head and, ignoring mutterings of protest, he pushed his way to the front. There he came face to face with two tall figures, surrounded by a Magykal haze. They were, although he did not know it, two of the seven Questing Guards who had come to escort the Apprentice away on the Queste. At Simon’s determined approach the armed Guards crossed their pikestaffs in front of him with a loud clack and barred the way through the Arch. “Halt!” they barked. Simon halted.