“Jump on, Dandra,” said Marcia. “I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than wait there.”

Dandra Draa was new to the Wizard Tower and was unsure of protocol. She had recently arrived from the Dry, Hot Countries in the South where she had lived in a beautiful, star-encrusted, circular tent beside a deep pool on the edge of a desert. Life there had been so much simpler. It had certainly not involved stairs of any description—or ExtraOrdinary Wizards with weird shoes. Dandra hesitated. Surely it was not right to stand above the ExtraOrdinary Wizard? But it was impossible to step on below as those stairs had already passed. And oh, no, here came the Princess, slowly revolving down. Dandra did a confused half bow, half curtsy. What was she to do now? Could she jump on in front of the Princess? Oh, it was all too much.

“Get on, Dandra, do,” said Marcia impatiently.

Dandra took a deep breath and jumped nervously onto the empty stair between Marcia and Jenna. It was an embarrassing squash and Dandra hardly dared breathe. She decided to deliver her message, whatever the protocol.

“Madam Marcia. What we hope for happen. Syrah Syara wake.”

Marcia took a moment to digest Dandra’s way of speaking. But Septimus understood at once.

“Syrah’s awake?” he asked. “You mean she is DisEnchanted?”

Dandra looked up to see the big brown boots of the ExtraOrdinary Apprentice. “Yes,” she said. “Syrah is DisEnchanted.”

“Dandra, that is marvelous news,” said Marcia. “I shall go and see her at once.”

“So shall I,” said Septimus.

Marcia stepped off the stairs, closely followed by Dandra Draa, who performed an awkward jump and to her embarrassment landed on Marcia’s cloak hem.

“See you tomorrow, Sep,” Jenna said, as she carried on down.

“See you, Jen,” Septimus called, as he jumped onto the seventh floor.

Jenna saw Marcia put her arm around Septimus’s shoulders and lead him down the dimly lit corridor that led to the Sick Bay. She was glad to see Septimus back with Marcia in the Wizard Tower; it suited him better and, she had to admit, it felt safer. Jenna pushed away a niggle of anxiety at the thought that he still had one more day to go in the Great Chamber of Alchemie and Physik—Septimus would soon be back, she told herself.

Jenna jumped off the stairs in the Great Hall and wandered across to the tall silver doors, watching the flickering images on the walls—which showed important and often dramatic moments in the history of the Tower—fade in and out of focus. One that she had not seen before came into view: Septimus and Spit Fyre attacking the Darke Dragon. She smiled and wondered if Septimus had seen it yet.

Jenna had an idea. She scribbled a Welcome Back party invitation for Septimus and knocked on the door of the duty Wizard’s cupboard. Hildegarde Pigeon peered around the door.

“Oh!” she said, looking surprised and glancing back into the cupboard. “Princess Jenna,” Hildegarde said, oddly loudly. She peered out. “How can I help you?”

A muffled cough came from inside the cupboard. Jenna thought it sounded familiar, although she couldn’t place it. “Can you give this to Septimus, please?” she asked.

Hildegarde’s hand shot out of the narrow gap between the door and the doorjamb and hurriedly took the invitation.

“Um, thank you,” said Jenna. “Sorry to interrupt whatever it is you’re doing.”

“Doing?” Hildegarde squeaked. “I’m not doing anything!” The door to the duty Wizard cupboard slammed shut.

Jenna shook her head—now that Hildegarde was almost a proper Wizard she was as weird as the rest of them, she thought. Pleased to be leaving the Magykal mist that always hung around the Great Hall of the Wizard Tower, Jenna whispered the password and waited while the huge silver doors to the Wizard Tower swung open and the floor bade her GOOD-BYE, PRINCESS. HAVE A NICE DAY.

Moments later she was running down the white marble steps in the brilliant, breathtakingly cold winter sunshine, heading back to the Dragon Boat—which was, amazingly, alive.

14

DISENCHANTMENT

In the DisEnchanting Chamber, Syrah Syara lay in her cocoon, suspended from the ceiling by the wispy strands of Forrest Bands. She looked just as she had done when Septimus had said good-bye to her before he left to be with Marcellus: her face was bone-thin, her hair pulled back into two tight little plaits and her skin was tinged blue by the light in the Chamber. Nothing had changed except for one important thing: Syrah had her eyes open.

Syrah looked up at the three faces staring down at her. Her gaze traveled blankly from Marcia, to Dandra Draa and on to Septimus.