“I thought you were going to tell him,” Septimus said to Marcia.
Marcia looked tetchy. “It’s been just a little bit busy here, Septimus. I’ve had more important things to think about.”
“Yes, of course. Sorry. So, shall I take Mr. Pike up to the Sick Bay?” asked Septimus.
“Yes,” said Marcia. “Don’t be long, will you?”
Ten minutes later, a wobbly, emotional Syrah Syara, supported by Rose—who had been nominated as nurse by Dandra Draa—and an equally wobbly Julius Pike joined the party beneath the Wizard Tower spiral stairs. Still trembling from the shock of having just met the ghost of her much-loved Julius, Syrah placed her thin, translucently pale hand onto the smooth black material of the entrance to the Covert Way.
Septimus watched, trying not to remember his last experience in the identical moving chamber on Alchemie Quay. But unlike him, Syrah did not have to push all her weight against the concealed opening plate. The lightest touch of her palm caused a bright green light to shine beneath. Then the oval door slid noiselessly open and the blue light inside the chamber came on.
Jenna, Marcellus, Milo and Marcia looked at one another in surprise—they had never seen anything like it.
“What is this?” asked Marcia, peering into the featureless chamber. “I can’t feel any Magyk here.”
“It depends what you call Magyk,” said Marcellus obscurely.
With some trepidation, Septimus followed Marcellus, Marcia, Milo, Jenna, Beetle, Syrah—supported by Rose—and Julius into the chamber. It was a tight squash. Syrah now placed her hand on the inside wall and a bright red light glowed beneath it. The door closed silently. No one said a word. The blue light gave everyone an unearthly pallor and made the whites of their eyes oddly prominent. Septimus noticed that Marcia was trying hard not to look scared—and not entirely succeeding. Milo, who was used to confined quarters in ships, was more robust. He grasped Marcia’s hand encouragingly, and to Septimus’s surprise Marcia did not object.
A small orange arrow now appeared beside the door. It pointed, Septimus was interested to see, not vertically downward, but diagonally. Syrah swiped her hand across the arrow and everyone—even Septimus and Marcellus, who were expecting it—gasped. They felt the stomach-churning sensation of the chamber falling, but with the added strangeness of it taking a diagonal path. Jenna, who was stuck in the middle, began to feel queasy.
The journey took less than a minute, but by the time the chamber finally shuddered to a halt, Jenna felt sick. She suspected it was not because of the ride but the thought of what awaited her outside. Everyone exchanged nervous glances in the blue light. Milo put his arm around Jenna. “We’ll be with you every step of the way,” he said.
Jenna nodded. Then, putting on her best Princess voice, she said, “Syrah. Would you open the door, please?”
The door opened and heat and a tremendous roar, as if from a huge waterfall, hit them. One by one, they stepped out into the shadows, shocked by the fierce red glow and the great curved wall of the black Cauldron that rose in front of them.
The exit from the moving chamber was a few steps up from the earthen floor of the cavern, behind one of the thick, riveted legs that supported the Cauldron. There was no view of the Fyre Chamber at all from the exit and in the old times this had annoyed Marcellus, particularly when he had visitors from the Wizard Tower whom he wanted to impress. But now he was thankful for the cover. Marcellus checked all was safe, then beckoned to everyone to follow. Jenna went to step down and then stopped.
“Oh!” she gasped. The floor was alive.
A sea of small, squashy, dusty faces were gazing up at her, their dark eyes shining. Jenna looked down at their unblinking gaze and for a moment she knew what it was like to be a Queen in front of a vast crowd.
“What are they?” Jenna whispered to Marcellus.
“Drummins,” said Marcellus. “Do not worry; they will make a path for you. Drummins do not like to be trodden on. Ah, here is Duglius.”
Duglius scrambled up the wall like a lizard and offered Jenna his hand—warm, callused and gritty with dust. Jenna took it and his suckered fingertips stuck delicately to her hand. “Welcome, Princess, to the Chamber of Fyre.”
“Thank you,” said Jenna. She felt the little suckers unstick themselves and very carefully she stepped down into the shadows.
Marcia turned to Syrah, who was leaning against the wall of the chamber, deathly pale against the shiny black surface. “Syrah, you must remain here,” she said.
Syrah swayed dizzily and Rose helped her down to the floor. “You’ll be okay,” Rose said. “I’ll stay with you.”