“We know,” said Marcia. And then, thinking she had been a little curt, she said, “But thank you. I very much appreciate your concern.”

There was something Septimus had to ask. “What did the Wizards look like?”

“It is very sad,” said Julius Pike. “They are InHabiting two old tramps, probably found them sleeping in a ditch somewhere. Darke Magyk is not kind to—”

Marcia cut in. “How long have we got?”

“I overtook them using an old passing place in the Bolt some two hours ago, but the tramps are being pushed forward at a merciless pace. I estimate possibly an hour.”

“An hour!” Marcia was horrified. “Septimus, go! As soon as Jenna arrives bring her here. There must be no delay. None whatsoever. Hurry, hurry!”

Septimus was halfway up the ladder when he realized that leaving Julius with Marcia was not a good idea. He was pretty sure that Marcia knew that Julius Pike had been the ExtraOrdinary Wizard at the time of the Great Alchemie Disaster. It would not take her long to start asking the ghost a lot of awkward questions—and getting even more awkward answers. Septimus now shared Marcellus’s opinion that Marcia would close down the Fyre, even at this late stage, if she knew about it. He also knew from Marcellus that it was Julius who had closed it down previously. It was not safe to leave the ghost of Julius Pike alone with Marcia.

Septimus looked down from the ladder. “Um, Marcia,” he said. “I wonder if Julius could come with me?”

“Whatever for?” Marcia asked.

Septimus felt bad about what he was going to say, but he told himself it was actually the truth. “I’d just feel happier, that’s all. It’s hard to explain.”

Marcia had never heard Septimus talk like that. It worried her.

“Yes, of course. Now, hurry, hurry!” Marcia watched Septimus climb up the wall and drop down the other side, avoiding the broken ladder. He was followed by Julius Pike, who had done the very same thing in his time as an Apprentice. With the backyard to herself, Marcia fretted. She hated waiting but there was nothing else to be done.

Septimus and the ghost of Julius Pike hurried along Wizard Way toward the Palace. The warmth of the sun and the spring tweeting of birds made Septimus’s spirits rise: soon all would be back to normal. He had no doubt that the Capsule would hold the Wizards securely until Jenna got there. Then all she had to do was say the Committal—which, knowing Jenna, she would have been practicing all night—then the Wizards would be back in the ring and Marcellus could DeNature it in the Fyre. It could all happen that very day, he thought. And he was really looking forward to seeing the Fyre with Marcia. It would be good to have no more secrets. Septimus pushed to the back of his mind the thought of Ernold and Edmund. Right then he did not want to think about that.

They headed across the Palace lawns toward the Palace landing stage, where Septimus could see Sarah, Silas and Beetle waiting. Beetle and Silas were shading their eyes against the glare of the sun and Sarah was jumping up and down, waving. Septimus knew that Nicko’s boat must be in sight. He raced the last hundred yards to the landing stage and saw Jannit Maarten’s supply boat speeding toward it, dancing through the sparkling water. Nicko was windswept and smiling at the helm, Jenna and Simon leaning out, waving.

Septimus turned to Julius with relief. “Jenna’s back,” he said. “It’s going to be okay.”

Unconcerned about the safety of royalty, the ghost was staring at Beetle. “Why is the Chief Hermetic Scribe not in the Manuscriptorium?” he asked.

Septimus remembered that Julius Pike had a reputation for being picky about protocol. It seemed a little misplaced right then. “A Chief Scribe doesn’t have to always be at the Manuscriptorium—does he, Beetle?” Septimus raised his voice to include Beetle in the conversation.

Beetle turned and saw the unfamiliar ExtraOrdinary Wizard ghost approaching. The first-time greeting etiquette applied also to Chief Hermetic Scribes. Beetle bowed politely.

“O. Beetle Beetle, Chief Hermetic Scribe at your service, ExtraOrdinary.”

“Julius Pike, at yours,” said the ghost impatiently.

“I trust you are well?” asked Beetle.

“As well as a—oh, for goodness’ sake!” spluttered Julius. “I’m well—which is more than you or anyone here will be if you don’t get back to the Manuscriptorium right now.”

“What?” Beetle looked shocked.

“Chief Scribe. I really don’t know what you think you are doing, leaving the main exit from the Bolt unsupervised by yourself at a time like this.”