Queste
Chapter 28 THE QUESTING BOAT
M arcia was stumbling around the Wizard Tower, unable to see. Desperately she called,
"Septimus...Septimus...where are you?"
"I'm here, I'm here!" yelled Septimus.
"Go back 'sleep," mumbled Jenna.
"Wearghaahh," mumbled Beetle, who was in the middle of his own dream in which Jillie Djinn had locked him in a dungeon with a giant rat.
They were sleeping - or trying to - on the floor of a small storeroom at the entrance to Ephaniah's domain. Jenna and Beetle both slipped back into sleep, but Septimus was wide awake, his dream of the blind Marcia still frighteningly vivid. He sat up, all the events of the previous evening crowding in on him. What was happening at the Wizard Tower? Surely Tertius Fume had discovered his escape by now? And if so had he sent people, or - more likely - ghosts, out to search for him? And what was happening to Marcia? Was she all right? Septimus put his hand in his pocket to find his last memento of the Wizard Tower and drew out the SafeCharm that Hildegarde had given him. It was so nice of Hildegarde to do that, he thought. By the comforting yellow glow of his Dragon Ring, he looked fondly at the SafeCharm - and a shot of fear ran through him like a knife. No! No no no no no. It couldn't be. It couldn't possibly be. Septimus stared at the heavy, oval lapis lazuli stone in his hand, and the golden Q inscribed deep into it glinted back at him mockingly. And, when he turned it over, the number 21 began to show and Septimus knew with a horrible certainty what he had - the Questing Stone .
He stared at the Stone, trying to remember what Alther had told him at the Gathering. But it was all a blur - only the phrase Once you Accept the Stone , your Will is not your Own came into his head.
Septimus tried to think clearly. But he hadn't accepted the Questing Stone, had he? He had accepted what he thought was a SafeCharm. So surely that was different - wasn't it? He stared hard at the Stone. It was a beautiful thing; silky smooth, slightly iridescent with delicate veins of gold winding their way through the brilliant blue. And the dreaded Q - that was beautiful too. The gold was set deep into the stone and polished to such smoothness that as he ran his fingers over it he could feel no join at all. In fact he could almost convince himself that the Q was not there. But as soon as he looked down at the stone in his palm there it was, winking up at him in the dim yellow light, refusing to go away.
Septimus shoved the Questing Stone back into his pocket. He would ignore it, he decided. He wouldn't tell Jenna or Beetle either. There was enough for them to think about without worrying about some stupid Queste, which he wasn't going on anyway.
Septimus threw himself back onto the hard bedroll and pulled the thin Manuscriptorium emergency blanket up over his head. He tried to block the Questing Stone from his thoughts, but it would not go away. He began to remember more of Alther's words - how the Stone was a Magykal thing and as the Questor drew nearer to his or her goal, it changed color. And at the Queste's end it was the deepest blue, so dark that it looked black - except in the light of the full moon. Alther had gabbled a rhyme, trying to get across as much information as possible, but just then Septimus did not even want to think about it. He didn't need to, he decided. He was not going on the Queste. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep - with little success.
About an hour later from behind the storeroom door, Ephaniah watched the NightUllr change. As the panther slept, Ephaniah saw the orange tip on his tail expand and grow, the bright color traveling across the creature like the sun chasing away the shadows. And as it grew, the sleek panther fur became a mottled tabby orange and its muscled body shrank so fast that Ephaniah was sure that Ullr would disappear completely. Indeed, when the Transformation was complete it looked as though he almost had - the DayUllr was a small and scraggly cat, who looked as if he could use a real meal. The only reminder of his nighttime attire was a black tip at the end of his tail, ready for the moment that the sun would once again set.
Now that the storeroom was guarded only by a small cat, Ephaniah dared venture in to wake its occupants. Sleepily, Jenna, Septimus and Beetle rolled up their bedrolls and stacked them back onto the orderly shelves. And then, at Ephaniah's insistence, they gathered around the big worktable in the first cellar and ate the oatmeal that he had cooked over the small burner he generally used for melting glue. Ullr, after some persuasion from Jenna, warily accepted Ephaniah's offering of a bowl of milk.
It was not a lively breakfast.
Jenna was anxious to get away to the Port. "If we hurry we can catch the early-morning barge to the Port," she said, scraping the last of the surprisingly good oatmeal from the bowl.
"Good," said Beetle, who had taken a lot of persuading to spend the night back at his old workplace and wanted to be off as soon as he could.
Ephaniah returned from putting the previous day's work in the basket at the top of the stairs. He flapped his hands, signaling them to wait, and laid a large sheet of paper down beside the bowls. It was covered with his now familiar handwriting. He ran his thin finger along the words: The journey to the Forests of the Low Countries is long and perilous by ship. But there is another way. There is an old saying, "A journey to a Forest is best begun in a Forest."
Jenna knew the saying but had never understood what it meant. "What do you mean?" she asked.
Ephaniah wrote: In the Forest there are ancient Ways that lead to other Forests. Morwenna knows. I can take you safely into the Forest by the old charcoal burners' gulleys.
"We used to use those in the Young Army," said Septimus. "The witches still do. Some of the Ways go to their winter quarters."
Ephaniah nodded and wrote: We will find Morwenna. I will ask her to show you the Forest Ways.
"What do you think, Jen?" asked Septimus.
Jenna shared Sarah Heap's mistrust of the Wendron Witches, but if it helped them to find Nicko - and get Septimus far away from the Castle, fast - then it was fine by her. "Okay," she said. "Let's do it."
"Beetle?" asked Septimus.
"Yep," said Beetle. "The sooner we're out of here, the better."
Ephaniah Grebe led the way down Lichen Twitten, a long, dank alleyway that went to the Manuscriptorium boathouse. The boathouse was a tumbledown shed set a few yards down a hidden inlet off the Moat. Inside was the Manuscriptorium ferryboat, a little-used rowboat that had escaped Jillie Djinn's new colors. Septimus and Beetle offered to row, but Ephaniah insisted on taking the oars himself. Rowing was something he had enjoyed in his younger, pre-rat days and it was a long time since he had been out in a boat.
It was a cold, blustery morning, but it was good to be out in the open air once more. Ephaniah had lost none of his old rowing skills and he maneuvered the boat skillfully out of the cut. But as he rowed into the choppy, gray waters of the Moat an unexpected sight met them - an exotic, three-masted sailboat was moored at the site of the old Wizard Tower landing stage. The landing stage had rotted away, as the great days of the maritime ExtraOrdinary Wizards were long gone, but the boat was tied to one of the few remaining gold-and lapis-covered poles. It rose and fell gently with the small Moat waves, and as the tide took the Manuscriptorium rowboat ever closer - despite Ephaniah's efforts to the contrary - they could see the faded blue and gold of the hull, the tattered azure ropes, and the peeling golden masts that must have once shone like the sun.
Only Septimus could see the dull, Magykal haze of purple that surrounded the boat, but as a sudden eddy pulled Ephaniah's oar from his grasp and sent the rowboat spinning toward the peeling blue hull, everyone could see the faded name in gold letters painted along the prow: QUESTE.
Beetle grabbed Ephaniah's lost oar just before it disappeared into the water. Ephaniah squeaked his thanks. He moved across to give Beetle space and together he and Beetle managed to get the rowboat back under control - but not before it had bumped into the hull of Queste with a loud, hollow thud.
As Beetle and Ephaniah frantically pulled away from the Questing Boat, there came the sound of running footsteps on the deck of Queste. Quickly, Jenna undid her red cloak and threw it over Septimus, hiding his distinctive fair hair and green tunic, so that when three Questing Guards peered over the side they saw a shivering Princess, with her arm protectively around a hunched little old lady, being ferried across the Moat. Where the Princess might be going with the little old lady was of no concern to the guards; they were more concerned about what had happened to the final Questor.
The final Questor stepped out of the rowboat and risked a quick glance back at Queste. She was not a bad boat, he thought. She looked fast and very maneuverable - the kind of boat that Nicko would like.
The thought of Nicko made Septimus forget his own troubles.
Ephaniah led the way along the bank past the Infirmary with its early morning candles lighting up the small windows - it still had a few elderly victims of the Sickenesse regaining their strength. They took the footpath around the back of the Infirmary and were at last out of sight of the Questing Boat.
Relieved, Septimus shrugged off his little-old-lady mode and handed Jenna back her cloak, which she carefully fastened with Nicko's precious gold pin.
Behind the Infirmary was an overgrown path, sunk between two deep banks, well-trodden long ago by generations of charcoal burners. They followed Ephaniah as he limped through the ferns and drifts of leaves that covered the old path, and soon they came to a low escarpment of rock, which seemed to block their way. Ephaniah turned and pointed to a narrow gap in the rock. With some difficulty, the rat-man squeezed through (he had been a little thinner when he had last made the journey as a fourteen-year-old) and Septimus, Beetle, Jenna and Ullr easily followed him.
In front of them stretched a deep and narrow cutting through the rocks, shaded by overhanging trees high above.
"The charcoal burners' gulley," squeaked Ephaniah proudly, pleased to have found the way after all the years. "The best way into the Forest."
"I wish Stanley were here," said Jenna. "He'd tell us what Ephaniah was saying."
"Eventually, he might." Septimus grinned. "But first he'd tell us all about his third cousin twice removed who followed a giant rat into the Forest and was never seen again and then he'd tell us all about the time that he and Dawnie had - "
"All right, all right," laughed Jenna. "Maybe I'm glad Stanley isn't here."
"Septimus...Septimus...where are you?"
"I'm here, I'm here!" yelled Septimus.
"Go back 'sleep," mumbled Jenna.
"Wearghaahh," mumbled Beetle, who was in the middle of his own dream in which Jillie Djinn had locked him in a dungeon with a giant rat.
They were sleeping - or trying to - on the floor of a small storeroom at the entrance to Ephaniah's domain. Jenna and Beetle both slipped back into sleep, but Septimus was wide awake, his dream of the blind Marcia still frighteningly vivid. He sat up, all the events of the previous evening crowding in on him. What was happening at the Wizard Tower? Surely Tertius Fume had discovered his escape by now? And if so had he sent people, or - more likely - ghosts, out to search for him? And what was happening to Marcia? Was she all right? Septimus put his hand in his pocket to find his last memento of the Wizard Tower and drew out the SafeCharm that Hildegarde had given him. It was so nice of Hildegarde to do that, he thought. By the comforting yellow glow of his Dragon Ring, he looked fondly at the SafeCharm - and a shot of fear ran through him like a knife. No! No no no no no. It couldn't be. It couldn't possibly be. Septimus stared at the heavy, oval lapis lazuli stone in his hand, and the golden Q inscribed deep into it glinted back at him mockingly. And, when he turned it over, the number 21 began to show and Septimus knew with a horrible certainty what he had - the Questing Stone .
He stared at the Stone, trying to remember what Alther had told him at the Gathering. But it was all a blur - only the phrase Once you Accept the Stone , your Will is not your Own came into his head.
Septimus tried to think clearly. But he hadn't accepted the Questing Stone, had he? He had accepted what he thought was a SafeCharm. So surely that was different - wasn't it? He stared hard at the Stone. It was a beautiful thing; silky smooth, slightly iridescent with delicate veins of gold winding their way through the brilliant blue. And the dreaded Q - that was beautiful too. The gold was set deep into the stone and polished to such smoothness that as he ran his fingers over it he could feel no join at all. In fact he could almost convince himself that the Q was not there. But as soon as he looked down at the stone in his palm there it was, winking up at him in the dim yellow light, refusing to go away.
Septimus shoved the Questing Stone back into his pocket. He would ignore it, he decided. He wouldn't tell Jenna or Beetle either. There was enough for them to think about without worrying about some stupid Queste, which he wasn't going on anyway.
Septimus threw himself back onto the hard bedroll and pulled the thin Manuscriptorium emergency blanket up over his head. He tried to block the Questing Stone from his thoughts, but it would not go away. He began to remember more of Alther's words - how the Stone was a Magykal thing and as the Questor drew nearer to his or her goal, it changed color. And at the Queste's end it was the deepest blue, so dark that it looked black - except in the light of the full moon. Alther had gabbled a rhyme, trying to get across as much information as possible, but just then Septimus did not even want to think about it. He didn't need to, he decided. He was not going on the Queste. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep - with little success.
About an hour later from behind the storeroom door, Ephaniah watched the NightUllr change. As the panther slept, Ephaniah saw the orange tip on his tail expand and grow, the bright color traveling across the creature like the sun chasing away the shadows. And as it grew, the sleek panther fur became a mottled tabby orange and its muscled body shrank so fast that Ephaniah was sure that Ullr would disappear completely. Indeed, when the Transformation was complete it looked as though he almost had - the DayUllr was a small and scraggly cat, who looked as if he could use a real meal. The only reminder of his nighttime attire was a black tip at the end of his tail, ready for the moment that the sun would once again set.
Now that the storeroom was guarded only by a small cat, Ephaniah dared venture in to wake its occupants. Sleepily, Jenna, Septimus and Beetle rolled up their bedrolls and stacked them back onto the orderly shelves. And then, at Ephaniah's insistence, they gathered around the big worktable in the first cellar and ate the oatmeal that he had cooked over the small burner he generally used for melting glue. Ullr, after some persuasion from Jenna, warily accepted Ephaniah's offering of a bowl of milk.
It was not a lively breakfast.
Jenna was anxious to get away to the Port. "If we hurry we can catch the early-morning barge to the Port," she said, scraping the last of the surprisingly good oatmeal from the bowl.
"Good," said Beetle, who had taken a lot of persuading to spend the night back at his old workplace and wanted to be off as soon as he could.
Ephaniah returned from putting the previous day's work in the basket at the top of the stairs. He flapped his hands, signaling them to wait, and laid a large sheet of paper down beside the bowls. It was covered with his now familiar handwriting. He ran his thin finger along the words: The journey to the Forests of the Low Countries is long and perilous by ship. But there is another way. There is an old saying, "A journey to a Forest is best begun in a Forest."
Jenna knew the saying but had never understood what it meant. "What do you mean?" she asked.
Ephaniah wrote: In the Forest there are ancient Ways that lead to other Forests. Morwenna knows. I can take you safely into the Forest by the old charcoal burners' gulleys.
"We used to use those in the Young Army," said Septimus. "The witches still do. Some of the Ways go to their winter quarters."
Ephaniah nodded and wrote: We will find Morwenna. I will ask her to show you the Forest Ways.
"What do you think, Jen?" asked Septimus.
Jenna shared Sarah Heap's mistrust of the Wendron Witches, but if it helped them to find Nicko - and get Septimus far away from the Castle, fast - then it was fine by her. "Okay," she said. "Let's do it."
"Beetle?" asked Septimus.
"Yep," said Beetle. "The sooner we're out of here, the better."
Ephaniah Grebe led the way down Lichen Twitten, a long, dank alleyway that went to the Manuscriptorium boathouse. The boathouse was a tumbledown shed set a few yards down a hidden inlet off the Moat. Inside was the Manuscriptorium ferryboat, a little-used rowboat that had escaped Jillie Djinn's new colors. Septimus and Beetle offered to row, but Ephaniah insisted on taking the oars himself. Rowing was something he had enjoyed in his younger, pre-rat days and it was a long time since he had been out in a boat.
It was a cold, blustery morning, but it was good to be out in the open air once more. Ephaniah had lost none of his old rowing skills and he maneuvered the boat skillfully out of the cut. But as he rowed into the choppy, gray waters of the Moat an unexpected sight met them - an exotic, three-masted sailboat was moored at the site of the old Wizard Tower landing stage. The landing stage had rotted away, as the great days of the maritime ExtraOrdinary Wizards were long gone, but the boat was tied to one of the few remaining gold-and lapis-covered poles. It rose and fell gently with the small Moat waves, and as the tide took the Manuscriptorium rowboat ever closer - despite Ephaniah's efforts to the contrary - they could see the faded blue and gold of the hull, the tattered azure ropes, and the peeling golden masts that must have once shone like the sun.
Only Septimus could see the dull, Magykal haze of purple that surrounded the boat, but as a sudden eddy pulled Ephaniah's oar from his grasp and sent the rowboat spinning toward the peeling blue hull, everyone could see the faded name in gold letters painted along the prow: QUESTE.
Beetle grabbed Ephaniah's lost oar just before it disappeared into the water. Ephaniah squeaked his thanks. He moved across to give Beetle space and together he and Beetle managed to get the rowboat back under control - but not before it had bumped into the hull of Queste with a loud, hollow thud.
As Beetle and Ephaniah frantically pulled away from the Questing Boat, there came the sound of running footsteps on the deck of Queste. Quickly, Jenna undid her red cloak and threw it over Septimus, hiding his distinctive fair hair and green tunic, so that when three Questing Guards peered over the side they saw a shivering Princess, with her arm protectively around a hunched little old lady, being ferried across the Moat. Where the Princess might be going with the little old lady was of no concern to the guards; they were more concerned about what had happened to the final Questor.
The final Questor stepped out of the rowboat and risked a quick glance back at Queste. She was not a bad boat, he thought. She looked fast and very maneuverable - the kind of boat that Nicko would like.
The thought of Nicko made Septimus forget his own troubles.
Ephaniah led the way along the bank past the Infirmary with its early morning candles lighting up the small windows - it still had a few elderly victims of the Sickenesse regaining their strength. They took the footpath around the back of the Infirmary and were at last out of sight of the Questing Boat.
Relieved, Septimus shrugged off his little-old-lady mode and handed Jenna back her cloak, which she carefully fastened with Nicko's precious gold pin.
Behind the Infirmary was an overgrown path, sunk between two deep banks, well-trodden long ago by generations of charcoal burners. They followed Ephaniah as he limped through the ferns and drifts of leaves that covered the old path, and soon they came to a low escarpment of rock, which seemed to block their way. Ephaniah turned and pointed to a narrow gap in the rock. With some difficulty, the rat-man squeezed through (he had been a little thinner when he had last made the journey as a fourteen-year-old) and Septimus, Beetle, Jenna and Ullr easily followed him.
In front of them stretched a deep and narrow cutting through the rocks, shaded by overhanging trees high above.
"The charcoal burners' gulley," squeaked Ephaniah proudly, pleased to have found the way after all the years. "The best way into the Forest."
"I wish Stanley were here," said Jenna. "He'd tell us what Ephaniah was saying."
"Eventually, he might." Septimus grinned. "But first he'd tell us all about his third cousin twice removed who followed a giant rat into the Forest and was never seen again and then he'd tell us all about the time that he and Dawnie had - "
"All right, all right," laughed Jenna. "Maybe I'm glad Stanley isn't here."
