“I am here,” said the ghost of the Queen, silently and somewhat irritably. “Daughter, our mothers tell me the Dragon Boat is dying. You must save her!”
Beside the ghost of Queen Cerys stood the ghost of her own mother, Jenna’s grandmother, the redoubtable Queen Matthilda. The rotund ghost, gray hair awry, crown slightly askew as it always had been in Life, was agitated. “For goodness’ sake, Cerys, say something,” the ghost told her daughter.
“I am trying to, Mama.”
“Well, try harder, dear. She’ll be gone in a moment. The young move so fast.”
Queen Cerys concentrated hard. “Daughter. Listen to me!”
Jenna glanced at Septimus. “Was that you?” she asked.
“Was what me?”
“A kind of whisper.”
Septimus shook his head. He longed to get out of the oppressive little room; it held bad memories for him. “Let’s go, shall we?” he said.
Jenna nodded.
Queen Matthilda was exasperated. “Cerys, tell her!”
“How can I concentrate when you keep going on at me?” Cerys demanded crossly, as she watched her daughter and the Alchemie Apprentice edge past her.
“Well, I shall tell her,” snapped Queen Matthilda.
“No, you will not.”
“I shall. She is my granddaughter.”
“And she is my daughter.”
“Sadly neglected if you ask me,” Queen Matthilda huffed. “You really should make more of an effort with her. Poor child. You know I would happily stay here in your place so that you could go to her. She needs you, Cerys.”
Jenna took the few steps across to the blank space in the wall where the hidden door to the outside lay. Septimus followed, glancing backward uneasily.
Cerys was fast descending into one of the legendary fights that she used to have with her mother. “Mama, you know The Queen Rules perfectly well. We do not Appear until the Time Is Right. You know that. How can my daughter ever become a true Queen if we keep Appearing to her, telling her what to do, preventing her from finding her own true path?”
“Absolute twaddle,” harrumphed Jenna’s grandmother. “I never did agree with that part of the Rules. Never.”
“You cannot cherry-pick from the Rules, Mama. It is all or nothing. Wait!”
The ghost of Queen Cerys saw her daughter take hold of the Apprentice’s hand and heard her say, “Let’s go, Sep!” Cerys began whirling around the room in frustration. Why couldn’t she speak? Why? As her daughter headed toward the wall, a faint, despairing cry found its way into the room: “Hear me! Only you can save the Dragon Boat!”
On the other side of the wall Jenna stared at Septimus openmouthed. “That was my mother!”
“Are you sure?”
“Sep, I know her voice. I know it. It’s my mother!”
“It was only her ghost, Jen.”
“So why doesn’t she Appear to me, Sep? Why? She must have seen me often enough. She’s just like my father. They’re both the same. They both keep away. It’s horrible.”
“Oh, Jen,” said Septimus, at a loss for words.
“And now—now all she does is tell me to do something that I can’t do!”
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