Barney Pot emerged from behind Aunt Zelda's voluminous dress. He was pink with embarrassment. Aunt Zelda pushed him forward. "Go on, dear, tell Marcia what happened. She won't bite."
Barney was not convinced. "Um...I...er," was all he could manage. Marcia sighed impatiently. She was very nearly late, and the last thing she needed just then was to have to listen to a stammering Barney Pot. "I'm sorry, Zelda. I am sure
Barney has a fascinating story to tell, but I really must go." Marcia shook off Aunt Zelda's restraining hand.
"Marcia, wait. I asked Barney to give Septimus my live SafeCharm."
This stopped Marcia in her tracks. "Heavens above, Zelda! A live SafeCharm? You mean - a jinnee?"
"Yes, Marcia. That is what I said."
"Goodness me. I really don't know what to say." Marcia looked stunned. "I had no idea you had such a thing."
"Betty Crackle got it. I daren't think how. But the thing is, Septimus wouldn't take it. And yesterday I got a letter from Barney." Aunt Zelda rummaged through her pockets and drew out a crumpled piece of paper that Marcia thought smelled suspiciously of dragon poop. She thrust it into Marcia's unwilling hand.
Holding the note at arm's length (not just because she could not stand the smell of dragon poop - Marcia did not want Zelda to realize she needed spectacles), Marcia read: Dear miss Zelda, I hope this gets to yu i am very very sory but the apprintice wood not take the safe charm yu gave me and then a scribe took it and i want you to no this becus i do not want too be a lizzard From Barney Pot.
PS plees tell me if I can help becus I wood like too "Lizard?" asked Marcia, looking at Barney, puzzled.
"I don't want to be one," whispered Barney.
"Well, Barney, who does?" observed Marcia. She gave the note back to Zelda. "I don't know what you are making such a fuss about, Zelda. Thank goodness Septimus didn't take it, and after all that trouble with the Questing Stone I wouldn't expect him to. It's a good thing the scribe did take it for SafeKeeping - at least someone had a sense of responsibility. Frankly, Zelda, it's not fair giving a live SafeCharm to someone so young, not fair at all. I will most definitely not allow Septimus to have a jinnee. We have enough trouble with that wretched dragon of his without some pesky Entity hanging around too. Now I really must leave. I have an important appointment at the Manuscriptorium." With that Marcia strode off down Wizard Way.
"Well!" Aunt Zelda exclaimed to a group of onlookers who were rather thrilled to have seen their ExtraOrdinary Wizard living up to her argumentative reputation and were looking forward to regaling their friends with the story.
Aunt Zelda impatiently pushed her way through the small crowd. And as she emerged with Barney Pot hanging on to her dress like a little limpet, Barney squealed,
"There he is! The scribe! The scribe who took the SafeCharm!"
Halfway down Wizard Way, a disheveled, gangly boy in a grubby scribe's uniform saw a large patchwork tent emerge from a small crowd. He turned and ran.
"Merrin!" yelled Aunt Zelda in a voice that rang down Wizard Way. "Merrin Meredith, I want a word with you!"
Chapter 25 Wizard Ways
A ccompanied by an assertive ping and the click of a counter turning to thirteen, Marcia pushed open the Manuscriptorium door and walked into the front office. The front office was empty and had a neglected air to it. It made Marcia realize how much Beetle, as Front Office Clerk, had actually done. The place had always looked clean and well organized, and even though the window was piled high with books and papers (and the occasional sausage sandwich), it had a tended look to it, as though someone actually cared.
Marcia marched up to the desk - which was strewn with papers, crumbs and candy wrappers - and rapped on it sharply. She inspected her knuckles with distaste; they were sticky and smelled of licorice. Marcia didn't like licorice.
"Shop!" she yelled impatiently. "Shop!"
The door in the wood-and-glass screen that divided the Manuscriptorium itself from the front office burst open and none other than the Chief Hermetic Scribe, Miss Jillie Djinn herself, marched out, her dark blue silk robes rustling with indignation.
"This is a place of study and concentration, Madam Marcia," she said crossly.
"Please respect that. Have you come to pay your bill?"
"Bill?" Marcia bristled. "What bill?"
"Invoice number 0000003542678b is still outstanding. For the window."
Marcia sniffed. "I believe we are in dispute about that."
"You may be in dispute, but I am not," said Jillie Djinn. "There is nothing to dispute."
"What ever," said Marcia, catching a word and intonation that Septimus had recently begun using. "Now, I have an appointment for the Vaults."
Marcia waited, tapping her feet impatiently. Jillie Djinn sighed. She looked around for the daybook and finally extracted it from under the pile of papers on the desk. She turned the thick cream pages with great deliberation.