Mindful of his much-regretted promise, Olaf Appeared
from the shadows. “I shall take you into the Castle, yes?” the ghost asked, hoping the boy would refuse. Unfortunately he didn’t.
“Yeah. Let’s get out of this dump,” Merrin growled.
Olaf took Merrin over the One Way Bridge, the familiar feeling of gloom that the bridge gave him settling on him like a cloud. The cloud did not lift as, dutifully, Olaf showed the boy across the drawbridge. He mediated in the argument the boy picked with the gatekeeper—who was also in a foul temper and smelled pretty bad too. Then he headed for The Ramblings, a huge warren of a place that Olaf had a real affection for. As he guided Merrin through the narrow, sometimes crowded passageways, Olaf could not shake off a strange feeling that they were being followed. But every time he glanced back he could see nothing more than the occasional fleeting shadow, which was not unusual in the shadowy, twisting alleyways. Determined to keep his word, the ghost took Merrin deep into The Ramblings. He led him to a small guesthouse where he himself had happy memories of staying many years ago.
That, Olaf mused later, was a mistake. Merrin had not liked the place. It was, he had said, a disgusting dump. When told the price of the rooms, the boy had called the owner, who was a gentle woman, a grasping old bat. Olaf decided to Appear
to the woman and apologize but that had been a mistake too. He had been flustered and got it wrong. At the sight of his sudden but incomplete Appearance the woman had screamed and slammed the door, which had Passed Through his foot and made him feel quite ill. By the time he recovered, Merrin had left. Relieved, Olaf had wandered off, unaware that he was half-Appearing
to everyone and causing havoc. By the end of the day, safely back in the ghostly haven of the Hole in the Wall Tavern, Olaf had decided that he would never Appear to anyone again. It was madness.
Stanley scuttled up one of the many back stairs of the Palace. Although he had never actually been upstairs in the Palace before, as an ex–Message Rat, Stanley knew the layout backward—he had had to learn it as part of his higher exams.
Avoiding the old ghost of a knight who was on guard—and who aimed a one-armed swipe at him with his sword—Stanley scuttled up the tapestry at the side of some big double doors. He pushed his way through the cobwebby rat-gap at the top of the wainscoting and looked down. It was a long drop on the other side. Stanley waited for a moment, gathering his courage for the jump. Far below, sitting by the fire, was Jenna Heap, Princess and heir to the Castle. Beside her lay a much-thumbed note.
Stanley could not read it from that distance, but Jenna already knew it by heart. The note read: Delivered by hand from the Wizard Tower by B. Catchpole
Received at Palace: 7:30 A.M.
From: Septimus Heap, Apprentice to Marcia Overstrand,
ExtraOrdinary Wizard
Dear Jen,
Can you meet me at Marcellus’s place at midday today? Have just had a note from him! It is really good. I think he has remembered some things at last. He has some stuff of Nicko’s to show us and he says that there may be a way for him to come back!!!! See you there.
Love,
Septimus xxxx
Jenna was so excited that she could hardly keep still, let alone wait for midday. After yet another depressing breakfast with Sarah Heap, she had escaped to her room and was trying to do something useful to pass the hours. Unaware that she was being watched by a teetering rat, she was determinedly reading a large book.
Far above Jenna, Stanley took a deep breath and launched himself into space. He landed on Jenna’s bed, bounced high into the air, thumped down onto her hearthrug and turned his ankle. “Oof!” he grunted, rolling forward and banging his head on the coal-scuttle.
Jenna leaped to her feet. “Stanley?” she gasped.
Stanley jumped up, winced and saluted. “At your service, Your Majesty.”
“Not ‘Your Majesty’ yet,” said Jenna. “Not until I am crowned with that.” She made a face and pointed to a very beautiful but simple crown sitting on a red velvet cushion on the mantelpiece.
“Ooh,” said Stanley, a little overawed. “It looks very heavy. Wouldn’t like to wear that all day.”
“Neither would I,” said Jenna. “And I don’t intend to just yet either. You know, Stanley, you always turn up when I least expect it. How are you—and Dawnie?”
“I am fine,” the rat replied. “I am sure that Dawnie is fine too. She makes a point of it, after all.”
“Ah,” said Jenna. “Things between you not good then?”
“No, Your Maj. But it was an amicable separation. Well, when I left I thought she looked kind of amicable. Possibly.
Although she was eating a pie at the time, which always puts her in a good mood.”
“Oh, I’m really sorry, Stanley.”
“I’m not,” replied the rat tersely.
“So, er…what are you doing with your life now?” asked Jenna.
“Keeping busy. Can’t complain. Visiting old friends, catching up, networking, you know how it is. Just done a bit of freelance actually—a mission to the Badlands.”
Jenna shuddered. “Horrible place,” she said.
“I’m with you there, Your Maj. And I wouldn’t like to bump into those that live there on a dark night. Actually, I’d rather not bump into them at all. But I’m making my base here now; no place like home, as they say. And I have a little proposition of my own to put to you, if you wouldn’t mind hearing me out. If you’re not too busy, that is. But if you are I can come back later. No doubt the trials and tribulations of young Queenshipdom and royaltyness bear heavy on your youthful shoulders and I—”
“I’m only reading, Stanley. I’m meeting someone later—it’s really important and I want to find out as much as I can before I go.”
“Very wise. Always go prepared. Big book you’ve got there. Not a great one for reading myself.”
“It is rather big.” Jenna sighed. “And complicated, too. It’s about Time.”
“Yes, that’s what I was thinking. It’s about time I came back and—”
“No, that’s what I am reading about. Time.”
“Quite. Been away far too long. But like I said, I have a proposition to put to you that may indeed be to your advantage.
Shall I go on?”
Jenna smiled. “Well, you generally do,” she said, closing her book and putting it down on the rug. “Sit down. Perch on my book here.”