started and the early-morning scribes began to arrive.
Marcellus caught Septimus's yawn. It had been a long and difficult night. He sat down in his great high-backed chair at the head of the table and regarded Jenna and Septimus with a thoughtful air. There was something he wanted to discuss.
Nicko hung back from the table. He was having none of this cozy conversation with the man he regarded as Septimus's kidnapper. It seemed to him that it would be easy to take Marcellus unawares. Nicko figured that with the muscles he had recently acquired working in the boatyard, he was a match for anyone, especially a lanky Alchemist who looked as if he had inhaled too many mercury fumes. The only thing that held Nicko back was Snorri. Where was she? What should he do? Nicko hovered, so enmeshed in his thoughts that he did not hear the offer that Marcellus Pye was making Septimus.
At the end of their conversation both Marcellus and Septimus were smiling. The decision made, Marcellus leaned back in his chair.
Nicko meanwhile had also made a decision. He would get the Keye. It was now or never. With skills learned from Rupert Gringe, he lunged at Marcellus from behind and grabbed him by the throat.
"Take the Keye, Sep - quick!" he yelled.
"Aargh!" Marcellus gurgled, half strangled as Nicko wrenched at the thick chain from which the Keye dangled.
"No, Nik!" shouted Septimus as Marcellus began to turn a nasty purple.
"We gotta do it now." Tug. "It's our last chance." Yank. "Come on, Sep, help me." Wrench. Marcellus's eyes started to bulge, and he began to resemble some of the pickled purple frogs on the top shelf of the fume cupboard.
"No, Nik!" Septimus pulled Nicko away, and Marcellus collapsed, gasping, back into his chair.
Nicko was furious. "What did you do that for?" he demanded. "You idiot!"
"He's just offered us the Keye, you dillop," said Septimus. "He's going to let us go - or he was."
Jenna poured Marcellus a glass of water from a jug on the table. He took it with a shaking hand and drank it down. "Thank you, Esmeral - er, Jenna. Prithee take some for yourself, for I do believe you have as much need as I do." Marcellus turned to Septimus. "Now, Apprentice, dost thou still wish to go through the Great Doors? Perchance thee might find less violent friends in thine own Time."
"I do still wish," said Septimus, "and I wish my friends to go with me."
"Very well, if thy Friends so wish it - though 'tis an Unknown Danger to go forward to a Time not your own. All who have gone have never Returned. Which is why these Doors are Guarded at all times." Marcellus got to his feet and regarded Septimus gravely. "So we are agreed?" he asked.
"Yes," replied Septimus.
"I trust thee," said Marcellus, "as I have never trusted any Person before. Not even my dearest Broda. My Life is in your hands, Apprentice."
Septimus nodded.
"What's going on, Sep?" Nicko hissed, who didn't like the sound of this.
"The Conjunction of the Seven Planets," Septimus told him.
"The what?"
"Marcellus can't make another Tincture - one that will work - until the same Conjunction of the Planets happens."
"So? Hard luck for Marcellus and all that, but what's it to do with us?"
"Well, it happens tomorrow."
"Good for them."
"It happens tomorrow - in our Time."
Nicko shrugged. He didn't see what the planets had to do with going home.
"I have promised to make the Tincture in our Time, Nik. Tomorrow at the time of the Conjunction. I can make it so that Marcellus can be young in our Time, too. I am sure I can.
"He's coming with us?" asked Nicko, shocked. "But he kidnapped you."
"No, he's not coming with us. He's there already, just really old and sick. I'm going to try and make him okay. Now, stop asking questions, Nik. Don't you want to go home?"
The truth was that Nicko wanted desperately to - but not without Snorri. He kept glancing at the entrance to the Great Chamber in the hope that she would suddenly rush in, pale hair flying, eyes shining, and he could tell her that they were all going home.
Marcellus took the Keye from around his neck, inspecting the misshapen links on the chain that Nicko had very nearly succeeded in breaking. He went over to the Doors and began to make preparations for their opening. The statues sheathed their swords and bowed their heads as Marcellus placed his Keye into its mirror-image indentation