“Of course I trust your Chief Hermetic Scribe implicitly,” Marcia said. “But she does have a tendency to complicate matters, if you know what I mean?”
Beetle nodded. He knew exactly what Marcia meant.
“Would you take out the Plan, please?”
Beetle unwound the discolored cloth from the long silver tube. The end of the tube was sealed with purple wax, which was stamped with the imprint of the Akhu Amulet. The amulet, which hung around Marcia’s neck, had been the symbol and source of the power of the ExtraOrdinary Wizards since Hotep-Ra himself.
From her ExtraOrdinary Wizard gold and platinum belt, Marcia unclipped what appeared to be a long silver lozenge.
She muttered something under her breath and, like the claws of a cat unsheathing, a shiny, slightly curved silver blade silently shot out. Beetle watched, fascinated, as Marcia ran the razor-sharp blade around the wax on the end of the tube so that it parted like butter. She drew out a thick roll of paper and unrolled it. From a shelf under the table Beetle took four ornate gold paperweights with silver handles and placed one on each corner.
Marcia took out the tiny spectacles that she used for close work. She perused the complex diagram, running her finger along the path of the Ice Tunnels, muttering to herself. Beetle had politely stepped away but Marcia beckoned him over.
“You know the two tunnel ghosts—the brothers who were trapped in the Emergency Freeze and have been looking for a way out ever since?”
“Eldred and Alfred Stone?”
“That’s them. Well, apparently they have
found a way out. Alther—you know the ghost of Alther Mella? You’re too young to remember but he was our last ExtraOrdinary Wizard.” Beetle nodded. He had met Alther many times recently while Septimus had been learning to use the Flyte Charm. “Well, Alther saw them a couple of nights ago.”
“Actually,” said Beetle, “now I think about it, I haven’t seen them in the tunnels for some time.”
“Really? This is not good news, Beetle. Not good news at all…aha. Now come and have a look. There is something going on here.” Marcia stabbed a long finger at a fuzzy area on what appeared to be a tangle of worms, snaking and folding in and out of one another.
Beetle had never seen a Live Plan before. As he looked he was sure he saw something on the edge of the Plan move.
“Did you see that?” gasped Marcia. “It moved.”
“It’s doing it again,” said Beetle. “I think it’s the hatch under old Weasal’s place.”
“I thought
you’d know what you were looking at,” said Marcia. “Beetle, I need you to go and check this out. Urgently. That hatch and this fuzzy bit here…wherever that is.”
Beetle whistled between his teeth. “That’s under the old Alchemie Chamber.”
Marcia frowned. “I think,” she said, “that it might be a good idea if you take Septimus with you. There’s safety in numbers. I’ll send him over. You do understand that this is highly confidential, don’t you?”
Beetle nodded.
“I particularly do not want the Ghost of the Vaults to know. He is not to be trusted. You know who he is, I suppose?”
“Tertius Fume?”
“Quite. I thought you would have figured it out. Septimus did too.” Marcia smiled fondly. “Very well, you can put the Plan away now. It’s not good to have it out in the light for too long.”
Beetle began rolling up the Plan. “Do you still want the Apprentice Urn?” he asked.
Marcia snapped out of her thoughts. “Oh! I’d quite forgotten. Yes, please, Beetle.”
Marcia unsealed the urn and plunged her arm deep inside. She drew out a roll of vellum tied with purple and green ribbons and sealed with purple sealing wax, which also bore the imprint of the Akhu Amulet. Marcia checked the signature written along the length of the roll. Septimus’s young, wobbly writing was unmistakable, but Marcia was amazed how it had changed in such a short time. Now, Septimus’s signature was sprawling and confident—if a little overcomplicated. Satisfied that she had the right urn, Marcia replaced the roll of indentures. She took out from her ExtraOrdinary Wizard belt a beautiful tiny gold and silver arrow. For a moment she held it in her palm and both she and Beetle gazed at it.
“Sep’s Flyte Charm,” breathed Beetle.
“Half right, Beetle,” corrected Marcia. “It is the Flyte Charm but it does not belong to Septimus. The Flyte Charm is one of the Ancient Charms; it belongs to no one.” With that she dropped the Charm into the depths of the urn.
“Oh!” said Beetle. “Um…did you mean to do that?”