“Good morning, everyone,” Marcia said perkily.
“Morning, Madam Marcia,” came a gloomy chorus from the fourteen Wizards who had been on guard all night. Marcia surveyed the bedraggled group, clustered around a ramshackle wooden hut standing in the middle of the courtyard, typical of one of the old Castle outside lavatories—or privies, as they were known. The Wizards, sodden after the night’s rain, stood huddled together like a small herd of blue sheep lost on a lonely, windswept hill. The courtyard was pervaded by the dismal smell of wet wool.
“I take it there is nothing to report?” Marcia said briskly.
“No, Madam Marcia,” came the gloomy chorus.
“Can we go now?” came a brave voice from the back. “We’re perished.”
Others chimed in.
“Frozen.”
“Totally, utterly frozzled.”
“I think my toes have fallen off.”
Marcia sighed. Wizards were not what they used to be. She could see they would be no use at all in the state they were in. “Yes. You can go. Thank you all very much. I realize it hasn’t been the most interesting night’s work.”
To a background of mutterings—“You can say that again”; “I’ve had more fun having my teeth taken out”; “Bloomin’ waste of time”—the Ordinary Wizards climbed up the ladder they had fetched after Larry had refused to answer the door for them, and clambered over the wall. The soggy Wizards then trailed back to the Wizard Tower, their job done.
Beetle’s job of guiding Marcia through Larry’s warren of a house was also done, and there was somewhere else he very much wanted to be. “I think it would be a good idea,” he said, “if I went down to the Palace landing stage and met Jenna.”
“A very good idea,” said Marcia. “Bring her straight here.”
Beetle clambered up the ladder and over the wall. Then he was gone, hurrying down to the river, feeling more excited about meeting Jenna than he thought he should be.
Marcia rubbed her hands together in the early morning chill of the dark courtyard. “Right, Septimus, let’s have a look, shall we?” Gingerly, she opened the door of the rickety old hut and peered inside. “It’s clever,” she said, her voice muffled by the hut. “You wouldn’t think anything of it. Just an empty old privy with a wooden floor. But when you look closer you can see that the entire floor is a trapdoor.”
Marcia stepped back to let Septimus see.
“We should make sure it really does lead to Smugglers’ Bolt and isn’t just a hiding place for contraband,” she said. “There are a few of those around, apparently. I suggest you lift the trapdoor and have a look.”
Warily, Septimus unfastened the bolts and lifted the trapdoor up a few inches. A smell of damp and mold wafted out. Marcia kneeled down and got out her FlashLight. She shone it into the gap and saw a line of narrow steps leading down into darkness. Suddenly she switched off the FlashLight.
“Something’s coming,” she whispered. “I can feel it.”
Very carefully, Septimus let the trapdoor down. “That’s way too fast,” he said.
Marcia stood up, brushing the dirt from her robes. “Septimus, I am so sorry. This must mean that Ernold and Edmund have been . . .” She stopped, unable to bring herself to say anything more.
Septimus said it for her. “Consumed.”
36
TO THE CASTLE
“We must prepare ourselves,” Marcia said. “I doubt that Jenna will get here in time. We need to keep the you-know-who at bay until she arrives.”
“Encapsulate?” asked Septimus.
“Precisely. It must be done very carefully. We can’t risk any fissures forming.”
“So not too fast.”
“Indeed.”
“An even depth.”
“Precisely. About three inches all over.”
“That’s thick.”
“There’s a lot of power to keep at bay, Septimus. We must be sure.”
“Okay. Shall I pace it out?”
“Yes.” Marcia got out her pocket sextant and quickly calculated the height of the hut. “Seven point five eight recurring,” she said.
“Circumference: thirteen exactly,” said Septimus.
“Right. Let’s get this as good as we can!” Marcia did some rapid calculations. “Okay. Now, Septimus, I’ll need you to—”
“Got you!” Larry’s angry face appeared at the top of the wall. “How dare you throw me out of my house, you interfering old witch!”
