“My friends must come too,” said Septimus.
The girl looked at Beetle and Jenna in surprise. “You have brought friends with you—on the Queste?” she said, and then she noticed Jenna’s red robes and gold circlet. In a flurry of embarrassment she made a low bow. “I beg a thousand pardons, Princess. I did not realize.” She turned to Septimus, even more disapprovingly. “Why did you bring the Princess, Apprentice? It is most foolhardy. Who will protect the Castle now?”
“I didn’t bring her,” said Septimus, feeling exasperated. “It was her idea. We are looking for our brother; we think he is here.”
The ancient Apprentice looked shocked. “You are a Prince. Forgive me.” She bowed once again.
“No—no, I’m not a Prince,” said Septimus quickly.
The Apprentice stopped in midbow. “Follow me,” she said curtly. She set off through the crowd, like a mother duck with three wayward ducklings. The crowd parted to allow them through, staring at them as they went.
They followed the mother duck up a broad flight of stairs that took them higher and higher until they were surrounded by the waxy haze of candle smoke that hung over the hall far below. At last, coughing and spluttering in the smoke, they came to a wide balustraded landing lined with marble benches along the walls and a hundred tiny alcoves containing yet more candles. Now that they were away from the crowd, the ancient Apprentice relaxed a little. She stopped and turned to them in the manner of a tour guide. Pointing through the haze, she said, “Here you see four stairways. Each of these leads to a tower. In each tower is an ancient Glass.”
Septimus glanced at Jenna—now they were getting somewhere. “What kind of Glass?” he asked.
“I will not explain. You are too young to comprehend,” she replied, lapsing into Marcia-speak once more. “Follow me.”
The girl pushed open a concealed door in the soot-stained white marble walls. “Take a candle,” she instructed, pointing to a collection of lit candles in brass candleholders lined up in an alcove by the door. She took one herself and stepped through the door.
They took their candles and followed the girl into a narrow passage, which was cut into the marble walls so that the sloping sides met at a point not far above their heads. It wound steeply upward and as they followed the girl’s practiced steps, they slipped and slid on the smooth marble underfoot.
“Where are we going?” asked Septimus.
The girl did not reply.
Breathless from the climb, some minutes later they arrived at the end of the passageway. The candles flared and cast distorted shadows across the smoke-blackened marble. For a moment, Septimus thought he was seeing things: in front of them, barring their way, was the big purple door that led to Marcia’s rooms.
“That’s Marcia’s door!” Septimus gasped. He looked around at Jenna and Beetle. “It is, isn’t it?”
“Looks like it,” said Beetle. “Can’t be though, can it? Must be a copy.”
“No. It’s identical. Look, there’s where Marcia caught Catchpole scratching his initials when he was on door duty.”
Septimus pointed to a B and an unfinished C. “And that’s where Spit Fyre chewed the edge, and that’s where the Assassin kicked it. It’s the same.”
At Septimus’s approach it did what Marcia’s door always did—unlatched itself and began to swing open.
“Weird,” said Beetle, trying to peer inside. “Do you suppose we’ll find Marcia in there too?”
“You
will find no one in there,” the girl said to Beetle, stepping in front of him. She grabbed hold of the door handle.
“Because you are not coming in.”
“Yes, he is,” said Jenna. “Where Sep goes we all go.”
“Your Majesty,” the girl began.
“Don’t call me that,” blazed Jenna.
“I am sorry. I did not wish to offend. Princess, I will give you a few minutes to say farewell to the Questor and then you and your servant must leave. I realize this is a sad occasion but I wish you Good Speed in returning to the Castle and Good Fortune in finding a Time that is Right. You are lucky, you have the key to this House. May your freedom to roam take you where you wish. Farewell.” The girl bowed; then—taking everyone by surprise—she pushed Septimus inside,
ran in after him and slammed the door in Jenna and Beetle’s face.
Shocked, Jenna and Beetle looked at each other as they heard the unmistakable sound of the door Barring.
“Oh, pigs,” said Beetle. “Pigs pigs pigs.”
46
ULLR’S QUEST
J enna banged on the purple door. “Sep!” she yelled. “Sep!”
Seizing his chance, Ullr wriggled out from under her arm, but Beetle grabbed his tail as he shot past. Furious, Ullr screeched. Ignoring the cat’s sharp claws, Beetle picked him up and stuffed the struggling animal under his arm.
“Jenna—we’re going to get Septimus out. Whatever it takes,” Beetle told her. “Ouch. Stop it, Ullr.”
Jenna slumped against the Barred door in despair. “But how?” she wailed. “How?”
“I shall find an ax and break down the door,” said Beetle quietly, looking Jenna in the eye.
Jenna returned his gaze. She knew Beetle meant what he said. “Okay,” she said.
They set off down the marble passage. As a parting shot, Beetle yelled, “We’ll be back!” The door stared back at them, impervious.
Waiting on a bench on the candle-filled landing was the horse-faced Guardian. As Jenna emerged through the concealed door, the Guardian got to her feet. “Princess,” she said, planting herself in front of Jenna and barring her way.
“Yes?” Jenna snapped.
The Guardian smiled smoothly. She had an expression bordering on smug that irritated Jenna. “Whither do you go?”
“To find an ax,” Jenna replied sharply—and then wished she hadn’t.
However, the Guardian did not react. “I have some business with you,” she said. “You can send your servant for what you need.”
“My servant?”
The Guardian waved her arm at Beetle, who was stuck in the passageway behind Jenna, occupied with Ullr.
Jenna was indignant. “He’s not my servant,” she said.
“What is he, then?”
“He is not a what; he is a who. And it is none of your business. Would you let me pass, please? We have things to do.”
Jenna tried to sidestep the Guardian but once again her way was barred.
“Whatever it is you wish to do,” the Guardian told her, “there is no need for haste. You have Eternity in which to do it.
You are no longer on the donkey cart of Time, forever trundling onward.”
“Thank you,” said Jenna icily. “But I quite like the donkey cart. At least it gets you somewhere. Now excuse me.”
“You are young, so I will excuse you. Now give me the key.”
“What?”
“The key.” The Guardian indicated the key to the Queen’s Room—a beautiful gold key set with an emerald—that hung from Jenna’s belt.
“No!”
“Yes!” The Guardian grabbed Jenna, digging her nails into her arm. “You must,” she hissed. “It belongs to the House.
You have stolen it.”
“I have not!” Jenna was furious. “Let go of me!”
The Guardian shook her head. “Not until you give me the key.” She smiled, her horse teeth glinting in the candlelight. “I am patient. Time is nothing to me, although it still has meaning to you, it seems. I will wait. We can stand here as long as you like.” The nails sunk deeper into Jenna’s arm.
“Let go of her.” There was an edge of menace in Beetle’s voice that Jenna had not heard before.
“Your servant is very loyal,” the Guardian said with a sneer.
Suddenly, a long, rumbling growl began somewhere by the Guardian’s knees. She looked down and the NightUllr, ready to pounce, stared back with angry eyes. “Let go of the Princess,” said Beetle quietly, “or she will set her panther on you.”
The Guardian let go. A panther was a panther, whatever Time it was.
Beetle grabbed Jenna’s hand. “Come on,” he said, “we’ve got an ax to find.”
Too afraid to move, the Guardian watched them walk swiftly across the landing and then—as the panther suddenly veered off and raced up one of the turret stairs—saw them break into a run.
“Ullr!” yelled Jenna, racing off in pursuit. “Come back! Ullr!”
Unused to such excitement, the Guardian resumed her place on the bench and waited—knowing that all things in the House of Foryx come to those who wait.
The turret stairs were steep, narrow and seemingly endless. Jenna and Beetle pounded up after Ullr and came to a halt at a small stone archway. The stairs carried on upward but through the archway Jenna could see a long, dark corridor lit by a few sparse candles. She stopped and tried to catch her breath. Which way had Ullr gone?
Beetle caught up with her. “Can you see him?” she puffed.
Too breathless to speak, Beetle shook his head. Then, in the light of the very last candle at the end of the corridor he caught a glimpse of the orange tip of Ullr’s tail. “There!”