“Oh. Thank you . . .” Septimus was touched. Marcia didn’t often give presents.
He wiped his hands on his tunic, then loosened the drawstring and tipped the Charm out onto his palm.
“Wow! Oh, wow!”
Septimus could not believe it. Lying in the middle of his slightly sticky palm was the Flyte Charm. He had forgotten how delicate and beautiful it was—a simple gold arrow covered with intricate swirling patterns. But what Septimus loved most about it were the two delicate little silver wings that sat on top of its somewhat misshapen flights—fluttering gently as if to greet him after its long sojourn inside a dark urn in the Vaults of the Manuscriptorium. These were the wings that Marcia had given him when she had first asked him to be her Apprentice, and it was these that Septimus had missed so much after Marcia had confiscated the Flyte Charm.
“There are conditions to its use,” said Marcia. “You are only to use it when on Apprentice duties in the Wizard Tower. At all other times it is to be kept on the Charm shelf in the Library. Understood?”
“Yes, yes, totally understood.” Septimus didn’t care about any conditions. He had the Flyte Charm back.
“There’s another thing,” said Marcia. “Last night.”
Septimus gulped, convinced that Marcia was about to ask some very awkward questions. “Yes?” he said.
“It was awful.”
“Yes.”
“And it made me realize that you have been working far too hard. It has been a lovely Big Freeze and you have missed so much . . .” Marcia searched for the right word, a word she did not often use. “Fun.”
“Fun?” Septimus sounded surprised.
“Fun, Septimus,” said Marcia adopting the word with enthusiasm. “You need to go out and have fun. You have spent a month underground, and now I want you to take a month aboveground to do what you want.”
Septimus looked puzzled. “Like what?”
“That is entirely up to you. It is your vacation—”
“Vacation?”
“Yes. Vacation.”
Septimus was at a loss. “But what am I going to do?”
Marcia had it worked out. “What you are going to do, Septimus, is fun.”
Septimus smiled. “All right,” he said. “I can do fun. If you insist.”
“You look better already,” said Marcia. “Off you go. And forget all about that ghastly underground stuff.”
“I’ll try.” Septimus wished he could forget, but the unblinking red eye of Fyre was imprinted on his brain—whenever he closed his eyes he saw it. He longed to go back and see it again. He longed to know what it was, crouching below the Castle like a living creature. And most of all, he longed to tell Marcia all about it.
19
WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN
Septimus was on his way to have fun. He stood waiting by the spiral stairs, because unlike Marcia he was not allowed to change their direction, and before long he saw the green Apprentice robes of their passenger. “Rose!” he said.
Rose stepped off, her green eyes shining with excitement. “Hello, Septimus.” She stopped and looked around. “Wow, it’s amazing up here. So bright. And kind of . . . sparkly.”
“It is, isn’t it?”
“I can’t believe I’m going to be up in the Pyramid Library. With you and Marcia.”
“Ah. It’s just Marcia for the next few weeks.”
Rose’s face fell. “Just Marcia? On her own?”