“Mandy?” Wolf Boy sounded incredulous. “Mandy?”
“Yeah. Sorry, 409.”
Wolf Boy buried himself in his quilt. “Sheesh . . .” Jenna and Septimus heard him muttering. “Mandy . . .”
10
THE CLOUD FLASK
“Morning, Mandy,” said Septimus, stepping over the recumbent Wolf Boy. A wiry arm shot out and a hand fastened itself around Septimus’s ankle. A growl came from beneath the quilt. “Don’t . . . call . . . me . . . Mandy.”
“Ouch, 409, that hurts.”
“Good.” Wolf Boy sat up, his long matted tails of hair fuzzed by sleep.
“So what do we call you?” Jenna’s voice came from the far end of the room. The marsh light had woken her early, as it always used to, and she was gazing out of the window watching the snow falling thick and fast across the marsh. “You’ve got three different names now.”
Wolf Boy considered the matter. “Yeah. Well, Marwick’s good. I like Marwick. Or Wolf Boy is fine. Don’t think much of 409 anymore—not after what they did to us. No more numbers, hey, 412?”
“Yeah,” agreed Septimus. “No more numbers.”
“That’s a deal,” said Wolf Boy. “So . . . I think I’ll use Marwick officially, like when I have to sign my Keeping papers and stuff like that. But Wolf Boy’s good for the rest of the time.”
“Until you’re too ancient to be called ‘boy’ anymore,” said Jenna.
“Yeah. Then I’ll be plain old Marwick. Sorted.”
Aunt Zelda got up late. She looked tired and drawn, Jenna thought, as she walked slowly and heavily down the stairs, her grizzled hair unbrushed and her large patchwork dress looking gray around the edges. A pang of pity went through Jenna—suddenly, Aunt Zelda was old. Jenna rushed over and wrapped her arms around her great-aunt.
Aunt Zelda looked a little overcome. “I thought you might have gone. I was afraid . . .” The words seemed to catch in her throat. “I was afraid you might never come to see me again.”
“Of course I’ll come to see you again,” said Jenna. “And don’t worry about the bowl. Marcellus will make another one.”
Aunt Zelda didn’t think such a thing was possible, but she merely sighed and said, “Well, I do hope he can, dear.”
“Okay, Sep?” said Jenna. “Shall we get going now?”
Aunt Zelda twisted a patchwork handkerchief in her knobbly fingers. “Come and tell me when the bowl’s ready, won’t you? Please?”
Jenna gave Aunt Zelda another hug. “We’ll need you to do the Triple with us, Aunt Zelda. Come on, Sep. I’ll take you through the Queen’s Way.”
“Yes—oh, bother. Wait a minute, Jen; I’ve got to get the flask. I promised Marcellus.”
“Okay. But hurry up.”
Jenna waited impatiently by the fire while Septimus explained to Aunt Zelda what he wanted. Aunt Zelda looked surprised. She led him over to a door set into the wall at the back of the cottage and, fumbling in her pocket, she drew out a set of small brass keys. Septimus waited impatiently while Aunt Zelda frowned at the keys.
“Would you like me to find the key?” Wolf Boy asked gently.
Gratefully, Aunt Zelda handed him the keys. “Yes, please, dear.”
A moment later Wolf Boy had unlocked the door and opened it to reveal the flask.
“It’s massive!” Septimus gasped.
Wolf Boy shrugged. “Yeah, well, it is quite big, I suppose. But then Cloud Flasks have to be, don’t they?”
“Do they?” Septimus knew nothing about Cloud Flasks and Marcellus had certainly not enlightened him. He had imagined a small glass jar that he could put in his pocket. But the thick glass flask that sat on the cupboard floor was as wide as Aunt Zelda and a good foot taller. Its round bowl filled the cupboard completely and its tall neck rose up above Septimus’s head.