“Quick!” whispered Marcia to Jenna. “He won’t survive if we leave him here. We’ll have to get him inside.” Marcia gathered the boy into her arms and carried him up the wide marble steps. As she reached the top, the solid silver doors to the Wizard Tower swung silently open before them. Jenna took a deep breath and followed Marcia and the boy inside.
7
WIZARD TOWER
It was only when the doors of the Wizard Tower had swung closed behind her and Jenna found herself standing in the huge golden entrance Hall that she realized just how much her life had changed. Jenna had never, ever seen or even dreamed of a place like this. She knew that most other people in the Castle would never see anything like it either. She was already becoming different from those she had left behind.
Jenna gazed at the unfamiliar riches that surrounded her as she stood, entranced, in the massive circular Hall. The golden walls flickered with fleeting pictures of mythical creatures, symbols and strange lands. The air was warm and smelled of incense. It was filled with a quiet, soft hum, the sound of the everyday Magyk that kept the Tower operating. Beneath Jenna’s feet the floor moved as if it were sand. It was made up of hundreds of different colors that danced around her boots and spelled out the words WELCOME PRINCESS, WELCOME. Then, as she gazed in surprise, the letters changed to read, HURRY UP!
Jenna glanced up to see Marcia, who was staggering a little as she carried the sentry, step onto a silver spiral staircase.
“Come on,” said Marcia impatiently. Jenna ran over, reached the bottom step and started to climb the stairs.
“No, just wait where you are,” explained Marcia. “The stairs will do the rest.”
“Go,” said Marcia loudly and, to Jenna’s amazement, the spiral staircase started turning. It was slow at first, but it soon picked up speed, whirling around faster and faster, up through the Tower until they reached the very top. Marcia stepped off and Jenna followed, jumping dizzily, just before the steps whirled back down again, called by another Wizard somewhere far below.
Marcia’s big purple front door had already sprung open for them, and the fire in the grate hastily burst into flames. A sofa arranged itself in front of the fire, and two pillows and a blanket hurled themselves through the air and landed neatly on the sofa without Marcia having to say a word.
Jenna helped Marcia lay the sentry boy down on the sofa. He looked bad. His face was pinched and white with cold, his eyes were closed and he had begun to shiver uncontrollably.
“Shivering’s a good sign,” said Marcia briskly, then clicked her fingers. “Wet clothes off.”
The ridiculous sentry uniform flew off the boy and fluttered to the floor in a garish damp heap.
“You’re rubbish,” Marcia told it, and the uniform dismally gathered itself together and dripped over to the rubbish chute, where it threw itself in and disappeared.
Marcia smiled. “Good riddance,” she said. “Now, dry clothes on.”
A pair of warm pajamas appeared on the boy, and his shivering became a little less violent.
“Good,” said Marcia. “We’ll just sit with him for a while and let him warm up. He’ll be fine.”
Jenna settled herself down on a rug by the fire, and soon two steaming mugs of hot milk appeared. Marcia sat down beside her. Suddenly Jenna felt shy. The ExtraOrdinary Wizard was sitting next to her on the floor, just like Nicko did. What should she say? Jenna couldn’t think of anything at all, except that her feet were cold, but she was too embarrassed to take her boots off.
“Best get those boots off,” said Marcia. “They’re soaking.”
Jenna unlaced her boots and pulled them off.
“Look at your socks. What a state,” Marcia tutted.
Jenna went red. Her socks had previously belonged to Nicko, and before that they had been Edd’s. Or were they Erik’s? They were mostly darns and far too big for her.
Jenna waggled her toes by the fire and dried her feet.
“Would you like some new socks?” asked Marcia.
Jenna nodded shyly. A pair of thick, warm purple socks appeared on her feet.
“We’ll keep the old ones though,” said Marcia. “Clean,” she told them. “Fold.” The socks did what they were told; they shook off the dirt, which landed in a sticky pile on the hearth, then they neatly folded themselves up and lay down by the fire next to Jenna. Jenna smiled. She was glad Marcia hadn’t called Sarah’s best darning rubbish.
The midwinter afternoon drew on, and the light began to fade. The sentry boy had at last stopped shivering and was sleeping peacefully. Jenna was curled up by the fire, looking at one of Marcia’s Magyk picture books when there was a frantic banging on the door.
“Come on, Marcia. Open the door. It’s me!” came an impatient voice from outside.
“It’s Dad!” yelled Jenna.
“Shh…” said Marcia. “It might not be.”
“For goodness’ sake, open the door, will you?” said the impatient voice.
Marcia did a quick Translucent Spell. Sure enough, to her irritation, outside the door stood Silas and Nicko. But that wasn’t all. Sitting next to them, with its tongue lolling out and drool dribbling down its fur, was the wolf, wearing a spotted neckerchief.
Marcia had no choice but to let them in.
“Open!” Marcia abruptly told the door.
“Hello, Jen.” Nicko grinned. He stepped carefully onto Marcia’s fine silk carpet, closely followed by Silas and the wolf, whose madly wagging tail swept Marcia’s treasured collection of Fragile-Fairy pots crashing to the floor.
“Nicko! Dad!” yelled Jenna and hurled herself into Silas’s arms. It felt like months since she had seen him. “Where’s Mum. Is she all right?”
“She’s fine,” said Silas. “She’s gone to Galen’s with the boys. Nicko and I just came by to give you this.” Silas fished around in his deep pockets. “Hang on,” he said. “It’s here somewhere.”
“Are you mad?” Marcia demanded. “What do you think you are doing, coming here? And get that wretched wolf away from me.”
The wolf was busy dribbling over Marcia’s python shoes.
“He’s not a wolf,” Silas told her. “He’s an Abyssinian wolfhound descended from the Maghul Maghi wolfhounds. And his name is Maximillian. Although, he might allow you to call him Maxie for short. If you’re nice to him.”
“Nice!” spluttered Marcia, almost speechless.
“Thought we might stay over,” Silas carried on, tipping out the contents of a small grubby sack over Marcia’s ebony and jade Ouija table and sifting through them. “It’s too dark now to go into the Forest.”
“Stay? Here?”
“Dad! Look at my socks, Dad,” said Jenna, waggling her toes in the air.
“Mmm, very nice, poppet,” said Silas, still fishing around in his pockets. “Now where did I put it? I know I brought it with me…”
“Do you like my socks, Nicko?”
“Very purple,” said Nicko. “I’m frozen.”
Jenna led Nicko to the fire. She pointed at the sentry boy. “We’re waiting for him to wake up. He got frozen in the snow, and Marcia rescued him. She made him breathe again.”
Nicko whistled, impressed. “Hey,” he said, “I reckon he’s waking up now.” The sentry boy had opened his eyes and was staring at Jenna and Nicko. He looked terrified. Jenna stroked his shaven head. It was bristly and still a little cold.
“You’re safe now,” she told him. “You’re with us. I’m Jenna, and this is Nicko. What’s your name?”
“Boy 412,” mumbled the sentry.
“Boy Four One Two…?” Jenna repeated, puzzled. “But that’s a number. No one has a number for a name.”
The boy just stared at Jenna. Then he closed his eyes again and went back to sleep.
“That’s weird,” said Nicko. “Dad told me they only had numbers in the Young Army. There were two of them outside just now but he made them think we were Guards. And he remembered the password from years ago.”
“Good old Dad. Except,” she said thoughtfully, “I suppose he’s not my dad. And you’re not my brother…”
“Don’t be daft. ’Course we are,” said Nicko gruffly. “Nothing can change that. Silly Princess.”