Enthralled, for she loved rich cloth, Jenna wandered around the room, running her fingers over the robes and exclaiming, “These are so soft, Sep ... oh, feel this one, the silk is so fine ... and look at this fur trim, that's even better than Marcia's winter cloak, isn't it?” Jenna had lifted a fine woolen cloak from a silver hook embedded with emeralds and twisted into the shape of a J. She slipped it over her shoulders; it was a beautiful cloak, soft and flowing, edged with a dark red fur trim. It fit her perfectly. Unwilling to put it back on its lonely hook, Jenna fastened the gold clasp and wrapped the cloak around her. It reminded her of Lucy Gringe's blue cloak that Jenna had worn not so long ago, and had recently given to a very surprised Lucy.
“Look, it fits me perfectly. It's as if it were made for me. And see, Nicko's present is just right.” Jenna had fastened the cloak with her gold pin, also in the shape of a J, which Nicko had bought from a merchant in the Port and given to her for her last birthday.
“Very nice, Jen,” said Septimus, who did not find clothes the least bit interesting and thought the Robing Room a little oppressive. “Look, hadn't you better show me whatever it was you wanted to?”
Jenna came back to earth with a jolt. For a few moments she had forgotten all about the wretched Queen Etheldredda. She pointed at the dark looking glass. “That's it, Sep. Now you have to look in it. That's what I promised.”
Septimus looked wary. “Promised who?”
“Queen Etheldredda,” Jenna whispered miserably. “Last night. She was waiting for me outside the door.”
“Oh,” Septimus muttered, “I see. But weird things can happen with looking glasses, Jen. Especially old ones. I don't think I should do this.”
“Please, Sep,” Jenna pleaded. “Please look in it. Please. ”
“Why?” Septimus saw a look of panic on Jenna's face. “Jen—what's the matter?”
“Because if you don't, she'll...”
“She'll what?”
Jenna looked white. “She'll Reverse the Reclaime. At midnight. You'll drown at midnight tonight.”
11
The Glass
Septimus stood warily in front of the looking glass, deliberately avoiding it by staring at his boots. He remembered Alther telling him how he had once looked in a Glass and seen a Spectre Waiting for him. He was afraid he might be about to see the same thing. “How does she know whether I've looked into the Glass or not?” he asked.
“I don't know,” Jenna said, unhappily twisting the red fur trim on her new cloak. “I didn't ask. I was so scared that she would reverse the Reclaime that I just told her I would make sure you did it.”
“Did she say why I had to?”
“No. She wouldn't say. She was just so ... threatening. It was horrible. Can she really do what she said, Sep? Can she really reverse the Reclaime?”
Septimus angrily scuffed his boots on the marble. “Yes, she can, Jen. Within twenty-four hours, if she's skilled at it, which I bet she is. I bet she's done it lots of times before. Rescued some poor person and then held them ransom.”
“She's horrible,” muttered Jenna. “I hate her.”
“Marcia says you shouldn't hate anyone,” Septimus said. “She says first you should stand in their shoes before you judge them.”
“Marcia wouldn't stand in anyone else's shoes,” Jenna said with a wry smile, “unless they were pointy purple python skin with dinky little gold buttons.”
Septimus laughed and then fell silent. So did Jenna. Both felt their gazes drawn toward the Glass but neither looked at it. Suddenly Septimus blurted out, “I'm going to look in it now, Jen.”
“Now?” Jenna's voice rose up a pitch.
“Yes. Get it over with. After all, what's the worst that can happen? I might see a horrible old Spectre or Thing, but that's all. What you see can't hurt you, can it?”
“No. I suppose not...” Jenna sounded unconvinced.
"So I'll do it now. You go back up to the cupboard and I'll be up in a moment.
Okay?"
“No, I'm not leaving you here on your own,” protested Jenna.
“But if there is a Spectre Waiting for me, Jen, you mustn't see it. It will Haunt you too. I know what to do about Spectres and you don't.”