Syren(9)

"Yeah. You know - weird stuff falling out of the sky. First your brother and now you."

Septimus was not sure he liked being compared to that particular brother. He knew that Wolf Boy was referring to the time that Simon, in possession of the Flyte Charm, had swooped down on them almost where they were standing now and had tried to grab Jenna. But Septimus could never be annoyed when he was with Wolf Boy. He smiled and said, "Well, at least you didn't take a shot at me with your catapult."

"Nah. Still carry it though. So what are you doing, then?"

"I'm going to get Jenna. And Nicko and Snorri. And Beetle. Bring them home."

"What - all of them? On that?" Wolf Boy eyed Spit Fyre dubiously. The dragon returned the compliment.

"Yep. It'll be fun."

"Rather you than me. I prefer where I'm going any day."

"So where's that - the Port?" This was not a difficult guess - the Causeway led nowhere else.

"You got it. Zelda wants me to - " Wolf Boy stopped. Aunt Zelda had told him to tell no one what he was doing. "Do some stuff," Wolf Boy finished lamely.

"Stuff?"

"Um, yeah."

"It's okay, you don't have to tell me. There are things Marcia doesn't let me tell anyone either. Want a ride?"

"Oh." Wolf Boy looked at Spit Fyre. He had sworn that he would never, ever get on that dragon again. The scales gave him the creeps, and the way Spit Fyre flew - up and down like a yo-yo - made his stomach churn.

"It's a long walk to the Port," said Septimus, who didn't want to leave his old friend on his own in the middle of nowhere. "And we won't go fast, I promise."

"Well, I...oh, all right then. Thanks."

Septimus was as good as his word. He flew Spit Fyre very slowly about fifty feet above the Causeway, and they soon came to the first outlying buildings of the Port - a few rundown workers' cottages. Watched by some silent young children - who had emerged wide-eyed at the sound of the dragon - Wolf Boy slipped down from his place behind Septimus. He landed on the Causeway like a cat and pulled his backpack straight.

"Thanks, 412. That wasn't so bad."

"Anytime. Look, watch out for the Port Coven, won't you? They're worse than they look."

"Yeah. And they don't look so great, either," said Wolf Boy. "Hey - how d'you know I'm going to the Coven?"

Septimus was suddenly concerned. "I didn't," he said. "You're not really going to the Coven, are you?"

Wolf Boy nodded. "Aunt Zelda, she..."

"Hmm," said Septimus. "Well, just remember that Aunt Zelda didn't get to be a Keeper by being a goody-goody white witch all the time." He fixed his gaze on his friend's dark brown eyes and lowered his voice. "No one gets to be Keeper without touching Darke, 409. Take care. Don't get too close, okay?"

"I won't. And you take care too. Come and see us when you get back."

Septimus thought how wonderful it would be to spend some time at Aunt Zelda's with Jenna and Nicko, just like it had been when they first met - only better. "We'll all come and see you," he said. "I'll bring Nicko and Snorri - and Beetle too, and Jenna."

"Great. And I'll show you the Marsh. I know all the paths - well, most of them. I'll take you to Chicken Island. I've got some good friends there."

"Sounds good. Really good." Septimus looked at Wolf Boy and wished he wasn't headed for the Port witches. Septimus wasn't sure that his friend understood just how dangerous they were. He reached into one of the pockets on his silver Apprentice belt and drew out a small metal triangle. "Here, take this," he said. "It's a Reverse. If those witches try anything, point the sharp end of this at them. It will send it right back to them - with knobs on."

Wolf Boy shook his head regretfully. "Thanks, but no thanks," he said. "Gotta do this on my own."

"Okay," said Septimus, replacing the Charm. "I understand. Be careful." Septimus watched Wolf Boy's long, loping stride take him quickly past the cottages and onto a narrow, cobblestone track that led into the dark streets of higgledy-piggledy houses, which hugged the fringes of the Port. He watched until Wolf Boy turned a corner and disappeared into the shadows. Then, under the somewhat disconcerting gaze of the silent crowd of grubby toddlers and young children, he told his dragon, "Go up."

Spit Fyre, who - despite what Barney Pot thought - was very careful of small children, cautiously beat his wings, and Septimus slowly saw the ground below loosen its hold once more.

They were on their way.