Physik - By Angie Sage Page 0,22

at the bacon sandwich with a look of horror, and then floated away through the ceiling. Her feet, clad in richly embroidered, extremely pointy shoes, hovered above Jenna and Septimus for two or three moments until, slowly, they faded away.

"Do you think she's gone now?" Jenna whispered to Septimus after a safe interval had passed. Septimus stood up to get a better look at the ceiling, but the floor came up to meet him with a crash and he found himself lying on Sarah Heap's favorite rag rug. Jenna looked concerned. "You'd better stay here tonight. I'll send a Message Rat over to tell Marcia."

Septimus groaned. Marcia. He had forgotten about Marcia until now. "Perhaps you'd better not wake her up, Jen. Anyway you'll be lucky to get a Message Rat. Best tell her in the morning," he said, thinking that it was not beyond Marcia to come over to the Palace right there and then and demand to know just what Septimus thought he was doing. It wasn't, Septimus thought, a question that he could easily answer right then.

"You feeling okay, Sep?" asked Jenna.

Septimus nodded and the room began to spin. "What happened, Jen?" he asked. "How did I get here?"

"You fell into the Moat, Sep - at least that's what Queen Etheldredda said. She said it was your own fault and that you were late. She said you were lucky that she happened to be on the Slipway, and she rescued you. Well, Reclaimed you, is what she said. Whatever that means."

"Er ... I learned it last week. But I can't remember it. Brain's not working."

"No, I shouldn't think it is. You almost drowned."

"I know. But I want to remember. Sometimes when you nearly drown your brain doesn't work so well afterward. Suppose that's happened to me, Jen?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Sep. Your brain seems fine to me. You're just tired and cold."

"But ... oh, I do remember. It was in the latest edition of the Spirit Guide," he said suddenly. "That's it. Reclaime: Ghostly transportation of living creatures in order to ensure they remain as such, i.e., living. Um ... may involve removing from imminent life-threatening danger or longer term planning, such as ensuring that they do not encounter approaching danger. Most commonly reported occurrence is being pushed from path of runaway horse by ghostly hands. There, brain's okay." Septimus closed his eyes and looked pleased.

"Of course it is," said Jenna soothingly. "Now look, Sep, you're soaked. I'm going to get you some dry things. Just rest while I go find the Night Housekeeper."

Jenna tiptoed out, leaving Septimus dozing on the rug. Queen Etheldredda was waiting for her outside the door.

"Ah, Granddaughter," she said in her high, piercing voice.

"What?" asked Jenna irritably.

"How is your dear adoptive brother?"

"My brother is fine, thank you. Now would you mind getting out of the way? I want to get him some dry clothes."

"Your manners are sorely lacking, Granddaughter. You know I saved the boy's life."

"Yes. Thank you very much. It was ... very nice of you. Now, please, may I get past?" Jenna tried to duck to one side of the ghost, having no wish to Pass Through Queen Etheldredda.

"No, you may not." Queen Etheldredda stepped in front of Jenna and barred her path. The ghost's features took on a stony look. "I have something to tell you, Granddaughter, and I suggest you listen well. It will be greatly to your adoptive brother's disadvantage if you do not."

Jenna stopped - she recognized a threat when she heard one. The Queen leaned down toward Jenna and a deep chill filled the air. Then she whispered in Jenna's ear, and Jenna had never felt so cold in all her life.
Chapter 9 Prediction Practical
Alther, what do you mean, he spent the night at the Palace?" Marcia demanded very early the next morning. "Why?"

"Well . . . er, it's a little complicated, Marcia," Alther replied uncomfortably.

"Isn't it always, Alther?" snapped Marcia. "You do realize that if he doesn't get back right away he's going to miss his Prediction Practical?"

Marcia Overstrand was sitting at her desk in the Pyramid Library at the top of the WizardTower. The Library was dark and gloomy in the early morning light, and the few candles that Marcia had lit flickered as she thumped Septimus's Prediction Practical Papers down on the desk in exasperation. Her green eyes flashed crossly as Alther Mella floated along the book stacks peering at some of his favorite titles.

"This is very bad, Alther. I spent all day