“Back to the Castle,” Tod said. “I have to tell Septimus what’s happening to the Ways.”
“No, you don’t!” Oskar and Ferdie said together.
“That’s crazy,” Oskar added. “You were lucky to get here at all, Tod. There’s no way you’re going back in there again. Suppose you meet the Kraan again?”
Tod had thought of that. “I’m going to go UnSeen,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”
Jerra was adamant. “Tod, no. You mustn’t do this. If you go back now I don’t think we will ever see you again. Seriously. I mean it.” Jerra’s tone took Tod aback. She opened her mouth to protest, but Jerra hadn’t finished. “And how,” he demanded, “am I going to explain to Dan that we had you here safe—by the skin of your teeth—and let you go straight back into danger? And that is why he will never see his daughter again? Huh, Tod? Tell me that, please.” By the time he had finished Jerra sounded almost angry.
There was an awkward silence in the Hub while Tod tried to choose between the impossible: Septimus or Dan. She felt annoyed with Jerra for making her feel guilty about Dan. “It will be fine,” she said brusquely. She pointed to the door to Arch VII. “I’m going to go the quick way. I’ll be on the Outside Path in seconds.”
“Not necessarily,” Jerra told her. “You may think it’s a direct route to the Castle but I can tell you that is one weird Way through there. It has Hidden branches. I know because I thought I’d go and see Oskie and Ferd and it took me three days to get back here. It’s a horrible journey if you get it wrong.”
“I won’t get it wrong,” Tod told him tersely.
“Tod, listen to me,” Jerra said, a quiet desperation in his voice. “There’s some kind of current in that Way. It’s terrifying. It pulls you in. You feel like you’re falling for miles and miles. You’re taken wherever it wants you to go. You are utterly helpless. Please, believe me.”
Tod was silent. She remembered something Marwick had called the Wild Way Wind and how it lurked in Hidden Ways. “Lucy was always fine when she used it,” she said stubbornly.
“That was last year,” Jerra said. “This is now. The Ways change. As you know, Tod.”
Tod stood irresolute as the three Sarns glared at her, daring her to move. She knew that none of them understood how much she had come to love the Castle, and how responsible her Apprenticeship had made her feel. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I have to go.”
Jerra strode across the Hub and stood in front of the door to Arch VII. “No,” he said. “I will not be party to this. I will not let you through.”
“You have to,” Tod told him crossly. “It’s the rule of the Ways. You agreed to let all pass through here freely.”
Jerra shook his head. “I don’t care what I agreed, Tod. This door stays closed and that is that.”
Tod was furious—how dare Jerra do this? She was considering her next move—an UnSeen . . . slip the bolt . . . she could just about reach . . . and then run like crazy—when there was a knock on the door of Arch II.
Rap—rappity—rap.
The standoff in the Far Hub evaporated. All eyes turned to the door across Arch II.
Who—or what—was behind it?
HOODWINKED
Jerra turned to his three guests. “I’ll have to open the door,” he said. “You three go upstairs. Just in case it’s . . .”
Jerra got a taste of his own medicine from Tod. “No, Jerra. We’re staying here with you.”
“Too right,” said Ferdie.
“You bet,” added Oskar.
Rap—rappity—rap came again from the door of Arch II.
“Okay,” Jerra said. “But stay by the stairs. So you can run if—”
A louder, more insistent rap—rappity, rappity—rap came from the door. Someone was getting impatient.
“Open the door, Jerra,” Oskar said. “We’ll be fine.”
They retreated to the shadows by the stairs and watched Jerra draw back the bolts and pull the door open. Two figures, one tall and thin, the other short and wide, both wrapped in long, hooded traveling cloaks, hurried into the Hub, bringing with them a mixture of musty air and annoyance. On the outside of their cloaks each wore, rather incongruously, an identical necklace of large cut crystal beads. It was odd, Jerra thought, that two such mismatched figures should have such similar taste in jewelry. The facets of the beads flashed like fire, throwing the wearers’ faces beneath their hoods into deep shadow and giving Jerra a strange feeling of not quite understanding what he saw.
“That is not, young man, what I call a prompt answer,” the short traveler said.
“I apologize,” Jerra said. “Which Way do you wish to exit by?”
“Four,” was the curt reply.
The three watchers in the shadows exchanged glances—they were going to the Castle.
It had been agreed that those letting travelers through the Ways would never comment upon their destination, but Jerra could not resist. “You are traveling to the Castle?” he asked as he walked them politely across to Way VII.
“To my Castle,” the tall one corrected him.
“If we ever get there,” the short one added grumpily.
Tod, Ferdie and Oskar stared at the figures, trying to make out their features. They had a strange fuzziness to them that seemed to repel detailed inspection. It was even hard to tell if they were male or female; the voices were oddly indistinct. They watched as Jerra held the door open and the figures stepped into the darkness of the Way, their fuzziness blending into the gloom. With the swish of cloaks upon the stone floor they were gone.
Jerra closed the door and shot home the bolts. “Well,” he said, walking back to the fire, “that was a strange pair. I looked straight at them, but it was odd, I couldn’t quite see them.”
“There was some kind of Enchantment on them,” Tod said.
Jerra shivered. “Spooky. Being so close to something like that. They did feel kind of . . . weird.”
“They did,” Tod said, “and the really weird thing is I felt I had seen them before.” She turned to Oskar and Ferdie. “Did you feel that too?”
“A bit,” Oskar said, unsure. “Maybe.”
“I know what you mean,” Ferdie said. “It was like a word that you can’t quite remember.”
“Well, I can’t say I recognized either of them,” Jerra said as he took the kettle off the fire. “And I don’t think I’d want to either. Miserable dingbats, both of them. They couldn’t even manage one little thank-you.”
Tod said nothing more about her decision to go back to the Castle and the three Sarns assumed that she had seen sense. She sat quietly with her friends beside the fire and helped Jerra shave curls of chocolate into a mixture of water and milk heating over the fire. But all was not as it seemed. Tod had decided to wait until everyone was asleep and then creep away. She did not want to make Jerra feel bad for allowing her to leave, and she also wanted to give the two unsettling strangers time to get out of the Way. The short one gave Tod the creeps.
Feeling a little guilty about her plans, Tod helped make up three beds from cushions and blankets and then, for appearances’ sake, she settled down. Oskar and Ferdie fell asleep at once, but annoyingly, Jerra sat reading by the fire while Tod lay fighting to keep her eyes open. Tod longed for Jerra to go to sleep, but Jerra was restless. He prowled the Hub, he checked the doors, he made another hot chocolate, he wrote a letter—anything, it seemed to Tod, to avoid going to sleep. From beneath half-closed eyes, she watched and waited, until sleep crept up on her, and she could fight it no longer.
At the sound of Tod’s regular breathing, Jerra whispered, “Tod . . .”
He got no response. At last, he thought, she’s gone to sleep. Wearily, Jerra put down his book, leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Within seconds he, too, was asleep.
SNAKE ON THE SLIPWAY
The Hawk drove Marissa across the drawbridge and into the Castle. It was early evening by now, and a summer squall was blowing in. The wind was cold and rain was begin
ning to fall.
Marissa was scratched, bruised and exhausted. The Hawk had dogged her every step, the relentless beat of its wings above sounding like the heartbeat of a determined, deadly pursuer. It had taken no trouble over such niceties as footpaths and had dragged her through brambles, over rocks and fallen trees. The Hawk had allowed her not a second’s rest; whenever she had slowed down it had dived and pecked the top of her head. As the Hawk hurried her along a deserted Wizard Way, Marissa was thankful that all the shops were closed and the place was quiet. She did not want anyone to see her in such a powerless state. At the end of the Way, the Hawk forced Marissa to take the turn into Snake Slipway, and she grew seriously frightened. In front of her lay the Moat: deep and dark. The Hawk was going to drown her.
At the foot of Snake Slipway Marissa, terrified of the water, refused to take another step. She threw her hands over her head and waited for the Hawk to dive-bomb her. Nothing happened. She risked a quick upward glance and saw the Hawk was merely hovering, marking the spot where she stood. Marissa understood that she had reached her destination. She sank gratefully to the ground and sat with her arms folded over her head, feeling the gold circlet for comfort. The rain beat down and the wind blew straight across the Moat and set her shivering as the damp seeped through her clothes. Her head hurt from where the Hawk had pecked her, and she felt wretched. She was grateful that she had not been forced into the Moat, but now she began to be afraid of the reason she had been brought here. Whatever it was, it was not going to be good.
At the other end of Snake Slipway, lurking in the shadows, Ariel and Star watched with interest. It was cold and wet and what they really wanted to do was have a coffee in Wizard Sandwiches and get warm, but they knew the wait would be worth it. Queen Jenna would be very pleased to know what Marissa was up to.
It was a long half an hour later when Ariel and Star saw two cloaked figures step down from the Outside Path.
“They’re wearing HoodWinks,” Ariel whispered.
“Nice,” Star said. “I always wanted one of those. I wonder who they are?”
As if in answer to her question, the tall figure threw back her hood, pulled the heavy crystal necklace over her head and hurled it into the Moat. The two watching witches now saw her to be a thin, severe-looking woman with white hair in very long plaits that were dark at the ends. Beneath her cloak she wore a pale red robe, and placed firmly on her head was a simple crown set with rubies that glistened in the rain.
“Wow. She looks like a Queen,” whispered Ariel.
“Jenna won’t like that,” Star whispered back. “Two Queens in one castle is bad news.”
“Maybe we could work for her, too.” Ariel giggled.
“No way,” Star said. “She’d chop your head off as soon as look at you.”
They watched with interest as the second, short figure copied the Queen’s actions, pulling off her HoodWink and sending it flying into the water.
“What a waste,” muttered Star.
“Shh,” hissed Ariel. “Look, it’s her Hawk.”
They watched the woman hold up her hand to the Hawk. The bird fluttered down to her wrist and accepted a morsel of food. There was a flash of yellow light, and a small, terrified brown bird sat in its place. With a practiced flick of the wrist, the woman snapped the little bird’s neck and threw it to the ground.
“Oh!” Star gasped.
“Oh, that’s horrible,” Ariel said. “How could she do that to a poor forest creature?”
“Come on,” Star said, “Let’s get out of here before she does that to us.”
“I’d like to see her try,” Ariel scoffed. But she hurried after Star. She wasn’t going to hang around. Just in case.
Marissa felt much better now that the Hawk was gone. She was also extremely relieved to see that the person controlling it was only stupid old Mitza. Marissa was less happy to see the Red Queen, however. There were quite enough Queens cluttering up the Castle as it was. If she was going to have any chance of realizing her ambitions, she needed the Castle to be Queen-free. She was going to have to put the Red Queen somewhere and keep her quiet while she decided what to do with her. But where did one hide a Queen? And then it came to her—in a palace, of course.
Marissa thought fast. If Jo-Jo’s rather unpleasant gift actually worked, she could talk anyone into anything, the Red Queen included. She slipped her hand into her pocket, flipped open the lid of the little green box, and her fingers found the dried snake tongue. Feigning a polite cough, Marissa raised her hand to her mouth and popped the dried snake tongue in. She gagged. It tasted vile.
Marissa took a deep breath and addressed the Red Queen. “Sister. I, the Castle Queen, bid you welcome.”
Mitza’s mouth fell open in amazement.
The Red Queen stared at Marissa. She took in her gold circlet, which she could tell was the real thing. She noted Marissa’s haughty bearing and queenly way of speaking and thought how strange that she had once considered her to be a mere witch. “Sister,” she replied, “I thank you.”
Marissa was jubilant—Jo-Jo’s snake tongue worked!
The Red Queen gave an embarrassed simper. “I must confess, sister Queen, that in the past I mistook you for a witch. I cannot imagine how I made such a mistake.”
Marissa laughed. “It is a little hobby of mine, to go among my people dressed as a witch.” Buzzing with her success, Marissa continued. “Sister, I am so pleased that you have come to my Castle at last, after all my pleas to you. It gives me great pleasure to consign my Castle to your tender care.”
The Red Queen felt puzzled. Her memory was not what it was, she thought. She had no recollection of Queen Marissa pleading with her to take over her Castle. “The pleasure is all mine,” she said, not entirely truthfully. A feeling of disappointment was beginning to steal over the Red Queen. She cast a glance at the results of Rupert Gringe’s clear-out spilling out over the slipway and pursed her lips. The place was a mess. It was also windy, and the rain was freezing cold. The Red Queen loved rain, but in the Red City it was always warm and gentle, not icy and sharp as dagger points. No wonder Queen Marissa was leaving.
It had not escaped Marissa’s notice that the Red Queen was shivering. “Sister, allow me to conduct you to your Palace. The fires are lit and your welcome banquet awaits,” Marissa lied with increasing delight. She held out her left hand, palm upward, at shoulder height. The Red Queen placed her own hand upon it and then, at a sedate and queenly pace, they set off through the rain, progressing past Rupert Gringe’s pile of boat junk, with Mitza hurrying beside them.
Mitza was not at all happy with the turn of events. “But Your Majesty,” she began, “she really is just a witch. She’s bewitched you and—”
Marissa cut Mitza short with a loud laugh. “I see you brought your fool,” she said to the Queen.
The Red Queen laughed a conspiratorial, just-between-us-Queens kind of laugh. Marissa savored it. “How perceptive you are, sister Queen,” the Red Queen said. “You open my eyes to so many things. You are right, I have indeed brought my fool.”
This was a step too far for Mitza. “I am not a fool,” she protested.
Marissa took note. It seemed that the snake tongue worked best when addressed to the person to whom the lies were directed. She turned to Mitza, making sure to look her in the eye. “Well said, fool. It is what any fool would say. But you have been in the service of her Majesty as her fool for many years. Your fame has spread far and wide.”
Mitza looked mortified. How could she have forgotten such a thing? It was true—she was indeed a fool. Embarrassed at her own presumption at walking beside the two queens, Mitza dropped back into a suitably respectful position some five paces behind. She followed them, head bowed against the rain, feeling foolish in so many ways.
A SURFEIT OF QUEENS
The Palace was not an imposing building. It was built of weatherworn stone and sat long and low. Its windows were small and numerous, each with a single candle burning. It l
ooked pretty, but was nothing like the immense, gold-strewn, closely guarded fortress that the Red Queen was used to. The rain was now coming down in slanting sheets, and the wind was blowing up the drive, which wound artistically through Queen Jenna’s new wildflower meadow. The Red Queen was seriously unimpressed—this palace was no better than a hut in a field.
They walked over the simple plank bridge across the ornamental moat—which the Red Queen took for a ditch—and approached the battered old wooden doors. Marissa was about to use her Universal Castle Key when, to her surprise, the doors swung open. She led the Red Queen over the threshold only to very nearly collide with the reason for the doors’ opening—Queen Jenna herself.
Jenna stopped dead. “My circlet!” she gasped.
Marissa knew she must speak—and fast. She fixed Jenna in her gaze and put the snake tongue into action.
“Sister, I—” she gabbled.
Jenna was so cross about her circlet she did not give Marissa the chance to continue. However, the snake tongue had done its work: Jenna now saw Marissa as her sister. And her sister had clearly stolen her circlet. “What are you doing with my circlet, Marissa?” she demanded. “Give it back at once!”
Desperately, Marissa plowed on. “It is my circlet, sister. You know it is mine.” Afraid that the Red Queen would become suspicious, Marissa turned to her and said, “My little sister is somewhat . . . different. You know how it is in families.”
The Red Queen gave an awkward smile: she had disposed of her own annoying little sister years ago.
Jenna stared at Marissa, her bemusement deepening. Why, she wondered, had she thought that her sister’s circlet belonged to her?
Marissa continued, determined to cover all bases. “Just as you know, little sister, that this is my Palace, ha-ha!”
Jenna felt utterly bewildered by now. It was so odd that she had been thinking of the Palace as her own, but of course it belonged to her sister. It was all most unsettling.
Marissa did not let up. “And you are leaving my Palace now, sister. To go home to . . .” Marissa paused to decide what to say. Jenna had not always been very nice to her and she decided to have some fun. “To your little hut at the back of Gothyk Grotto.”