"Huh. You always say that. You can't blame it on the dog out here."
The arguing couple wandered off, and before they were out of earshot, Spit Fyre had fallen asleep. Septimus checked the tide. It was on its way out, and from the look of the high-tide mark on the harbor wall he figured Spit Fyre had at least six hours to safely sleep where he was. Septimus heaved off Marcia's saddlebags, extracted four roast chickens and a bag of apples and placed them beside the dragon's nose in case he woke for a midnight snack.
"Wait here, Spit Fyre. I'll be back," Septimus whispered. Spit Fyre opened a bleary eye, blinked and went back to sleep.
Septimus shouldered the heavy saddlebags and wearily headed up the harbor steps. Now all he had to do was remember which net loft it was that Nicko had chosen.
Chapter 14 The Trading Post
S eptimus reached the top of the steps and looked around. The arguing couple was gone and the quayside was deserted. It was in semi-darkness, lit only by one large torch set high on a post in front of a line of very tall, narrow wooden huts at the back of the quayside. Despite the gusts of wind and the occasional spots of rain, the torch flame burned steadily behind a thick shield of glass and cast a pool of dim yellow light across the cobblestones. Septimus remembered that it marked the entrance of the alleyway that Nicko had dragged them all down two days earlier. Smiling at the thought that he would very soon see his brother again, Septimus hoisted the saddlebags onto his shoulders and set off toward the torch, picking his way through the clutter of barrels and crates that littered the quayside.
Septimus reached the torch and stepped into the alley. The torchlight threw his long and flickering shadow in front of him. He turned a sharp corner and was plunged into darkness - but only for a few seconds. Soon the Dragon Ring that he wore on his right index finger began to glow and light the way. With the saddlebags balanced awkwardly on his shoulders, Septimus negotiated another corner and stopped outside a narrow, smelly, four-story wooden hut that sported a recently smashed front door tied together with rope. Septimus put down the heavy saddlebags and looked up at the tiny windows with their missing or smashed panes of glass. He was sure that this was the right hut, but there was no one there - the windows were dark and the place was silent and empty. A flicker of worry passed through Septimus, and then something caught his eye. A scrap of paper was pinned to the door, and Septimus recognized Jenna's large, looping handwriting. The note said:
Sep!
Hope you had a good flight! We are on the Cerys - big, flashy ship on Harbor Twelve. See you!!!
Love, Jen xx
Septimus smiled at the happy sight of Jenna's exclamation marks and then frowned. How was he meant to get to Harbor Twelve?
Half an hour later Septimus's frown had deepened. He had battled the buffeting wind and a sudden squally shower on the long exposed bridge that crossed the mouth of the wide canal and had now reached an imposing wooden gateway at the end of the bridge, which marked the boundary of Harbor Four. From behind the gate Septimus could hear the sounds of the busy harbor. Wearily he went to push the gate open and to his surprise, a man stepped out of a sentry box that Septimus had taken to be some kind of store.
"Stop right there, sonny. Afore you go in you must read the Notice." The man, who was wearing a dark blue seafarer's uniform sprinkled with big gold buttons, pointed to a huge notice fixed to the wall. It was lit by two brass lanterns and was covered in large red letters in various languages.
Septimus scowled. He did not like being called "sonny" - he was used to more respect.
"An' you can take that scowl off your face too," growled the man. "Read the board, all the way through, or you can go back to where you came from. Got that?"
Stonily Septimus nodded. Much as he wanted to tell the man to get lost, he had to get into Harbor Four and enter the Large Harbor Network. He turned his attention to the notice:
Harbor Four
ATTENTION!
You are now leaving Harbor Three,
The last of the Small Harbors (SH)
And entering the Large Harbor Network (LHN)
By passing through this gate you agree
To be bound by the Rules (Rs)
Of the Trading Post Large Harbor Association (TPLHA)
And to Obey all Instructions issued by
Harbor Officials, Groups or Societies (HOGS)
This was followed by a long list, each line beginning with the words "DO NOT" in red capital letters. Septimus did not like lists written in red and beginning with the words
"DO NOT" they reminded him of the Young Army. But under the eagle eye of the official, he read it all the way through.
"Okay," he said as he reached the end. "I agree."
"You didn't read it," objected the official.