SandRider (13 page)

Tod finished dealing with yet another complaint: “I'm sorry, but I haven't got any complaint forms. You can ask Catchpole at the door.”

“You're really part of it all here now, aren't you?” Ferdie said wistfully,

Tod felt awkward. “Ferd, I'm an Apprentice here. You
know
that. So of course I'm part of it. But . . . it's not all as great as you might think. Today
everything
has gone wrong. You just wouldn't believe.”

Ferdie felt the old Tod reappearing. She linked arms just as they used to and said, “Hey, Tod. Nothing can be that bad. And you've always got us. You, me and Oskie, we're the Tribe of Three—remember?”

“I do remember,” Tod said. “Really I do.”

They walked slowly up Wizard Way, looking out for any glimpse of red. While they searched, Tod remembered how she, Ferdie and Oskar had promised one another that they would track down the Orm Egg themselves. Tod realized that,
with the excitement of the Wizard Tower being on the trail of the Orm Egg, she had forgotten her promise to the Tribe of Three. But now, she reflected, it didn't matter anyway. She had let the only chance of finding the Orm Egg slip away. She was, Tod told herself, rotten at keeping promises.

Ferdie was sad to see Tod so frazzled. Nothing was worth that, Ferdie thought, not even a swanky Apprenticeship with an ExtraOrdinary Wizard. She squeezed Tod's arm sympathetically. “Don't worry,” she said. “It will be . . .” Ferdie grinned and made the PathFinder sign for “okay”—touching the top of her right index finger and thumb together to make an “O.”

The sight of the familiar sign decided it for Tod. At least she could keep her promise to her friends. “Ferd,” she said, “there's some stuff I really want to tell you, but . . .” She looked at William Heap, who was gazing up at them, listening intently.

“But later,” Ferdie said with a grin. “Later, when I've taken William home.”

“But I don't want to go home,” said William. “I want to be in the Tribe of Three.”

Ferdie smiled. “When you're older,” she said.

William scowled. “You're just like Mum. She always says
that when I ask to do stuff.”

Ferdie laughed. She was more than happy to be just like William's mother. She liked Lucy Heap a lot. “See you later?” she said to Tod. “I'll be up at the Sled Shed with Oskie. You know he's racing the Manuscriptorium sled in the Apprentice Race?” she said proudly. A thought occurred to her. “Hey, are you racing in the Apprentice too?”

“I was going to be, but . . .” Tod trailed off.

Ferdie looked at her quizzically. “Another secret?” she asked.

Tod sighed. “Not for long, I promise. I'll see you up at the Sled Shed with Oskie before the race.”

“Tribe of Three in the Sled Shed,” Ferdie said with a smile.

“Tribe of Three,” Tod replied, and she hurried away, preoccupied.

Before she had become Septimus's Apprentice, Tod, Ferdie and Oskar had made a pact that the Tribe of Three came before everything. But Tod's life wasn't so simple anymore—she had loyalties to Septimus and the Wizard Tower now too. As Tod drew nearer to the Wizard Tower she found herself envying Ferdie with her more straightforward choices. But what was really bothering Tod was the thought of telling
Septimus that not only had she lost Kaznim—and with her their precious clue to the whereabouts of the Orm Egg—but she had also lost his jinnee. In fact, she had single-handedly ruined any chance they had of finding the Orm Egg.

Tod slowly climbed the wide white marble steps that led up to the silver doors of the Wizard Tower. She spoke the Password, the doors swung open and Tod stepped into the Great Hall with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

She wasn't looking forward to seeing Septimus at all. She really wasn't.

Kaznim gazed up at a sign that read:
The Magykal Manuscriptorium and Spell Checkers Incorporated
. Kaznim was a little disappointed. She had been expecting a building as big, shiny and
Magykal
as the Wizard Tower, but found herself outside a small, insignificant shop. She stared in the window, which was piled high with books and had a handwritten sign plastered across it proclaiming:

P
ROUD SPONSOR OF THE
A
NNUAL
M
ANUSCRIPTORIUM
S
LED
R
ACES
.

W
E ARE CLOSED THIS AFTERNOON FOR THE RACING
.

P
LEASE NOTE: NO BETS ARE TAKEN ON THESE PREMISES
.

Kaznim got rid of her
UnSeen
, took a deep breath and pushed the shop door. It opened with a friendly
ping
and she walked into a long, narrow office. Sitting on a pile of books opposite the door was a nasty-looking fat little ghost dressed in blue robes trimmed with faded gold. The ghost—the previous Chief Hermetic Scribe who went by the name of Jillie Djinn—glared at her and said, “What do you want, little girl?”

Kaznim had grown up with many spiteful Sand Spirits and knew well enough not to answer back. Careful to avoid catching the ghost's dark little eyes, she headed toward the large desk at the end of the office where a small boy sat, almost hidden behind it. He was nervously chewing the end of his pen.

The boy's name was Darius Wrenn. He was ten years old
and small for his age. His short spiky, fair hair stuck out as though in shock, and his dark brown eyes had a permanently worried expression, which was accentuated by his nervous tic of blinking rapidly. Darius was from the Port orphanage and had recently been picked for the Early Starters Scheme at the Manuscriptorium. He wasn't enjoying the experience at all and that week was the worst so far. He was on duty in the front office, which scared him because anyone at all could walk in, and now the Chief Hermetic Scribe had gone to inspect the racecourse and left him all on his own.

“Just be helpful,” Beetle had told Darius, rather unhelpfully. “Oh, and if any scribes bring in their younger brothers and sisters to show off where they work—which they are allowed to do today—you must make sure that there are no running games between the desks. But remember, today is the day when we want to make people feel that this is
their
Manuscriptorium and that we are here to help them with anything we possibly can. If someone asks for something you don't understand, ask Foxy.” With that the Chief Hermetic Scribe was out of the door before Darius had time to tell him that Foxy was out on the racecourse too. In fact,
everyone
was out. As Beetle had closed the door, Darius thought its
ping
was the loneliest, scariest sound that he had ever heard. He sat behind the big office desk, shivering with the cold and dreading who might come in and expect him to help them.

And so when the door
ping
announced Kaznim, Darius was very relieved to see someone who was actually a bit smaller and younger than he was. He blinked nervously and in a shy squeak repeated what he'd been told to say. “Good morning. How may I help you?”

Kaznim was not sure how to begin. “Um. I've got this,” she said, and pushed the much-folded blue piece of paper across the desk to Darius. He looked at it for barely a second—Darius could read a whole page in a single glance.

“Yes,” he said.

“It is from here?” Kaznim asked nervously.

“Yes,” Darius said. He was not sure if he was allowed to talk about the papers. The Chief and various scribes had told him so many different things. He looked anxiously at the ghost of Jillie Djinn. The ghost seemed unusually friendly. She nodded reassuringly and Darius's confidence returned. He smiled at Kaznim.

Encouraged, Kaznim asked, “Do you know the place where it went to?”

Darius remembered the excitement when Foxy and the Chief had returned from their amazing journey. They had not stayed long, but Beetle had made sure he knew where they—and the leaflets—had ended up. “We want to know where our first international customers come from,” he had said, laughing.

“The Port of the Singing Sands,” Darius told Kaznim proudly.

“Oh!” Kaznim gasped. “I live in the Desert of the Singing Sands.”

Darius's eyes widened. “Wow. That's a
long
way away.”

Kaznim bit back tears. “I know.”

Darius possessed one precious book in the orphanage. It was called
The Wonders of the Seven Sands
. It had his father's name written inside it, lots of small dark type and three beautiful colored pictures of people in long robes and desert tents. Whenever Darius felt cold in the orphanage—which was often—all he had to do was to open the book and he was warm again. “I love deserts,” Darius said dreamily. “And tents.”

“I live in a tent,” Kaznim said.

“Wow . . .”

“It has stars all over it.”

“Beautiful . . .”

“It is. And my mother—she's an Apothecary—she works there, and . . . I miss her. I just . . .
I just
want to go home
.”

Darius was speechless. He would want to go home too if he lived with his mother in the middle of a nice warm desert. Darius could just about remember his mother, although he tried not to. It made him too sad.

“But I don't know how to get home,” Kaznim was saying. “I thought you might be able to help me. I thought you might know the way.”

Darius did not answer straightaway. He was thinking about how he would so much rather live in a tent than the Manuscriptorium, which was just like the orphanage—full of rules that he did not understand.

Kaznim took Darius's silence as a refusal. She remembered how her mother had told her that if you wanted something from an official you must give a gift to show that you were serious about wanting it. So she reached deep into her secret pocket, took out the
Egg Timer
and showed it to Darius.

Darius's eyes widened. He had never seen anything so small and yet so perfectly made. “That's beautiful,” he said.

“It's for you,” Kaznim said. “To show you how much I want to go home.” And she pushed the
Egg Timer
across the desk. With a feeling of wonder, Darius picked it up.

“What is it?” he asked.

“It's an
Egg Timer
,” Kaznim said.

Darius thought it was far too beautiful to be given away. “I can't take it,” he said.

Kaznim's face fell. “Don't you like it?” she asked.

“Of course I like it,” Darius said. “But it's yours.”

“I want you to have it,” Kaznim told him. “Because I want you to tell me the way home. Please. I . . . I miss my mother
so much
.”

That did it for Darius. If someone knew a way for him to find his mother again, he would be devastated if they did not tell him. “All right then, I'll tell you,” he said. “I can remember the numbers. If you like, I could write down the Ways to your home?”

“Oh, yes,
please
,” said Kaznim.

Darius closed his eyes and the numbers he needed were there, as clear as if they were in front of him on a piece of paper. He dipped his beautiful new Manuscriptorium pen into the inkpot and carefully wrote out a series of symbols,
II-X-IV-I-XI-X-V-III-IV-VIII
, onto Kaznim's precious blue paper. He pushed the paper across the desk with a smile. “There,” he said.

Kaznim was horribly disappointed. These were Way numbers. Even if she could get through the
Hidden
arch in the Wizard Tower courtyard she could get no farther than the
Sealed
Hub beyond. “They're no use to me,” she said miserably. “Everything's
Sealed
.”

“Not
here
,” Darius said proudly. “We have a Way here, and the Chief wouldn't allow it to be
Sealed
. You can go anywhere in the world from here.”

At that moment Romilly Badger came through the Manuscriptorium door. Darius looked up and shoved the
Egg Timer
guiltily into his pocket. Romilly gave Darius a stern look. “I hope you're not talking about what I think you are, Darius,” she said.

“No!” said Darius quickly. “No, I'm not.”

“Good. Remember your Promise, now.”

“Yes . . . yes, I will,” Darius said, blushing bright red. Romilly eyed the two children and decided they could not get up to much harm. She was already late for her duties on the racecourse. The
ping
of the closing door brought Darius
back to reality. With Romilly's words ringing in his ears, Darius realized what he had just done—
he had broken the Manuscriptorium Promise
.

Darius thought fast. He had to get the numbers back, but one look at Kaznim tightly clutching her blue paper told him that it would not be easy. “I, er, I think I made a mistake in one of the numbers,” he said. “I'll just fix it, shall I?”

Kaznim was not fooled. She saw Darius's flustered expression and she knew he was lying, just like everyone else in the horrible Castle. “No!” she said.

Desperation made Darius Wrenn brave. He raced around to the front of the desk and snatched the paper. Kaznim grabbed it back and gave Darius a shove, sending him flying backward. But Darius was not giving up. One thing he had learned in the orphanage was how to fight. He ran straight at Kaznim and dived at her knees. Kaznim neatly stepped to one side and Darius crashed into the pile of books on which the ghost was sitting, watching the fight with some amusement. The books cascaded onto the floor and the ghost leaped up and set about kicking Darius. The kicks
Passed Through
him and Darius felt nothing, but it is always a frightening experience to be kicked by a ghost. Darius, however, was not to be
deflected. He struggled to his feet and ran at Kaznim, who was heading rapidly for the door. He grabbed her shoulder and Kaznim swung around and punched him on the nose. It was the most painful thing that had ever happened to Darius.
Ever
. His hands flew to his face and he felt the wet warmth of blood streaming onto his palms.