Septimus stood up and turned back to the dragon. "No," he said. Barney stared at the bottle in dismay. "But it's a SafeCharm. It's really important. Please, Apprentice, you have to take it."
Septimus shook his head. "No, I don't have to take it."
Barney was horrified. He had promised to deliver a SafeCharm and deliver it he must. Awful things happened to people who promised to deliver SafeCharms and then didn't. At the very least he would be turned into a frog or - oh yuck - a lizard. He would be turned into a smelly little lizard and Uncle Billy would never know; he would catch him and put him in a Lizard Lodge with all the other lizards, and they would know he was not a real lizard and they would eat him. It was a disaster. "You do have to take it!"
yelled Barney, jumping up and down desperately. "You do! You have to take it!"
Septimus looked at Barney. He felt sorry for the boy. "Look, what's your name?" he said kindly.
"Barney."
"Well, Barney, a word of advice - never take a SafeCharm from anyone. Never."
"Please." Barney grabbed hold of Septimus's sleeve.
"No. Let go, Barney. Okay? I've got to go." With that Septimus grabbed hold of a large spike on the dragon's neck, swung himself up and sat down in the narrow dip in front of the dragon's powerful shoulders. Barney gazed up at him in despair. He couldn't even reach him now. What was he going to do?
Just as Barney had decided he would have to throw the SafeCharm at the Apprentice, Spit Fyre turned his head; the dragon's red-rimmed eye glared balefully at the small, distraught figure jumping up and down. Barney caught the look and backed away. He didn't believe Uncle Billy when he said that Spit Fyre was a gentleman and would never hurt anyone.
Barney watched Marcia Overstrand stride over to the dragon with Uncle Billy. Perhaps he could give the SafeCharm to the ExtraOrdinary Wizard and she would give it to her Apprentice? He watched as the ExtraOrdinary Wizard checked to make sure the two large saddlebags were securely fastened just behind where Septimus was sitting. He saw the ExtraOrdinary Wizard lean over and give her Apprentice a hug, and he thought the Apprentice looked a bit surprised. And then the ExtraOrdinary Wizard and Uncle Billy suddenly stepped back and Barney realized that the dragon was about to take off. It was then he remembered what else he was supposed to say.
"It's from Aunt Zelda!" he yelled so loudly that his throat hurt. "The SafeCharm is from Aunt Zelda! And there's a sandwich too!"
But it was too late. A thunderous whoosh of air drowned out his shout, and then a great dragonny downdraft hit Barney and blew him into a pile of something very smelly. By the time Barney had struggled to his feet, the dragon was way above his head, hovering at the very tops of the fir trees, and all Barney could see of the Apprentice were the soles of his boots.
"Here, Barney," said his uncle, only just noticing him. "What are you doing?"
"Nothing," sobbed Barney, and fled.
Barney scooted through a hole in the hedge at the end of the dragon field. All he could think of was that he must give the SafeCharm back to the lady-trapped-in-the-tent and explain what had happened - then maybe everything would be all right. But the lady-trapped-in-the-tent was nowhere to be seen.
And then, to his relief, Barney saw the edge of a patchwork tent disappearing through a little door into the old turret at the end of the Palace. Uncle Billy had told Barney that he was not allowed in the Palace, but just then Barney did not care what Uncle Billy had told him. He ran down the old brick path that led to the turret and a moment later he was inside the Palace.
It was dark in the Palace; it smelled funny, and Barney didn't like it very much at all. He couldn't see the lady-trapped-in-the-tent anywhere. To his right were some narrow, winding steps going up into the turret and to his left a big old wooden door. Barney didn't think that the lady-trapped-in-the-tent would be able to fit up the narrow steps, so he pushed open the old door and gingerly went through. In front of him was the longest corridor Barney had ever seen. It was in fact the Long Walk, the broad passageway that ran like a backbone through the middle of the Palace. It was as wide as a small road and as dark and empty as a country lane at midnight. Barney crept into the Long Walk, but there was no sign of the lady-trapped-in-the-tent.
Barney didn't like the corridor; it scared him. And all along the edges were weird things: statues, stuffed animals and horrible pictures of scary people staring at him. But he was still sure that the lady-trapped-in-the-tent must be near. He looked at the SafeCharm and a glint of light from somewhere glanced off the shiny gold as if to remind him how important it was that he give the SafeCharm back. And then someone grabbed him.
Barney struggled and kicked. He opened his mouth to shout, but a hand was suddenly clamped over it. Barney felt sick. The hand smelled of licorice, and Barney hated licorice.
"Shhh!" hissed a voice in his ear. Barney wriggled like a little eel, but, unfortunately, he was not quite as slippery as a little eel and was held fast. "You're the dragon-minder's kid, aren't you?" said the voice. "Poo. You smell worse than he does."
"Lemmego..." mumbled Barney through the horrible licorice hand, which had something really sharp on its thumb that hurt.
"Yeah," said the voice in his ear. "Don't want smelly kids like you around here. I'll have that." His attacker's other hand reached down and wrenched the SafeCharm from Barney's grasp.
"No!" yelled Barney, at last wriggling free. Barney made a lunge for the SafeCharm and found himself face-to-face with - to his amazement - a Manuscriptorium scribe. He couldn't believe it. A tall greasy-looking boy wearing the long gray robes of a scribe was holding the SafeCharm above his reach and grinning. Barney fought back tears. He didn't understand it. Nothing was right this morning. Why was a Manuscriptorium scribe ambushing him and stealing his SafeCharm? You could trust scribes - everybody knew that.
"Give it back!" yelled Barney, but the scribe held the bottle just out of reach of Barney's desperate jumps.
"You can have it if you can reach it, Shorty," taunted the scribe.
"Please, please," sobbed Barney. "It's important. Please give it back."
"How important?" asked the scribe, holding the bottle even higher.
"Really, really important."
"Well, bog off then. It's mine."