Read SandRider Online

Authors: Angie Sage

SandRider (16 page)

For the first race that day the five new sleds were raced by apprentices from the lucky shops, businesses or institutions that had won the Apprentice Race Draw. They also got to name and decorate the sled for that season. The Wizard Tower always raced its own sled, known as the
Wiz
, and the Manuscriptorium always raced the
Beetle
. In the last race
of the day—the Midnight Massive—the Manuscriptorium raced all the sleds and Beetle always ran his old sled. It was the highlight of his year.

The
Beetle
stood nearest the door. One in from the door, guarded by a scowling Drammer Makken, was the
Wiz
—sleek and delicate like a racehorse, waiting patiently. The
Wiz
was made from a very dark, intricately carved wood, which was inlaid with strips of lapis lazuli. It sparkled in its Wizard Tower livery of purple, blue and gold. Its runners were narrow like skate blades, the metal was golden yellow with a thin strip of steel along the edge that had contact with the snow. At the front a gold bar ran between the two runners as they arched up toward the rider and on this hung a silver whistle, tied with a green ribbon. A long purple rope was also fixed to the bar and thrown casually across the seat. It looked much the same as it had when Septimus had used it in the Ice Tunnels below the Castle before the big Melt—except that the word “Wiz” was now painted along the side.

The next sled was a shimmering green with flashes of red. Raced by the new Palace Dragon Boy (employed in the hope of the return of the elusive Spit Fyre), it was, naturally, named
Spit Fyre
. The next in line was the
Sarnie
, raced by Wizard
Sandwiches—a small and delicate sled like a fine spider, which looked as though it might fold up at any moment under the weight of its racer: the rather large washing-up boy. Next came Gothyk Grotto's sled in matte black, called—of course—
Grot
. This was to be raced by the mask technician, who wore a tight-fitting black suit and matching full-face cat mask. Jannit Maarten's boatyard was running
Bucket
, in honor of a little boat Nicko Heap had recently lost.
Bucket
was to be raced by the newest Apprentice, a girl from the port, who had painted two eyes on the front of the runners. Last came the
Spurius Fatuus
, in the hands of Doran Drew, a young apprentice from Larry's Dead Languages. Named in honor of Larry himself, it was not a flattering tag, but the apprentice reckoned she was safe because Larry made a point of never watching the race. However, that year, Larry was secretly watching from an upstairs window.

Tod's substitute, Drammer Makken, glared at her. The newest Apprentice in the Wizard Tower, Drammer was a tall fourteen-year-old already gaining a reputation for being truculent. He wore a white bandanna around his thick brown hair. It should have read
The Best, Sucker!
but punctuation skills were not Drammer's strong point and he had left out
the comma. Tod went up to him nervously. “Hi, Drammer,” she said.

Drammer scowled. “What you doing here?” he demanded.

“I'm racing today,” Tod said. “Sorry.” She handed him the card Septimus had given her. It said:
Alice TodHunter Moon to race the
Wiz
in the Apprentice. Septimus Heap. EOW
.

Drammer looked at the card and swore under his breath. Then without saying a word, he strode out of the Shed.

Oskar watched him go, then turned to Tod. “I'm really glad it's you,” he said. “That guy didn't understand the
Wiz
at all.”

“Thanks, Oskie,” Tod said.

“Hey, Tod,” Benjy Pot, the
Dragon Boy, butted in excitedly. “So you're racing? Sure you're ready?”

Everyone knew that the race really began in the Sled Shed, with the banter, the showing off, the technical tweaks. Tod was feeling increasingly nervous but knew well enough not to show it. “You bet!” she said brightly, slipping onto the
Wiz
and feeling for any looseness in the joints. It was not unknown for sleds to be tampered with—especially the
Wiz
, which was seen as “swanky.” But the sled felt good and Tod could sense the energy within, waiting to be set free. She gave the runners a quick wipe with Septimus's purple cloth and then, acting as
relaxed as she could, she got up and wandered off.

Oskar and Ferdie were waiting for her by the door. They exchanged signs and walked out into the chill of Sled Alley. Thoughts of Septimus and the Wizard Tower began to fade and Tod felt as though she had come home: the Tribe of Three was together again.

T
IGER
E
YES

Septimus had found Jim Knee. It had been relatively easy—all he'd had to do was to follow the screams. He had ended up in Gothyk Grotto, where the tiger was enjoying terrorizing some young teens who had come to buy the latest craze: Death Wings. These were tiny black fluttering wings, which when thrown behaved like a boomerang and came back to the thrower. They had nothing whatsoever to do with death but Jo-Jo Heap had thought of the name and it had stuck. A mass throw was planned for the start of the Apprentice Sled Race. No one knew about the plan except the rider of the
Grot
sled, and it was hoped a shower of Death Wings would give the rider—race name: Daemon Kraan—a good start.

Septimus took his jinnee back on the end of a Gothyk Grotto rope-trick rope. As they walked toward the starting grid, Wizard Way fell quiet, all eyes following the young man in purple striding up the Way with his apparently faithful big cat. People were less impressed once it became known that the tiger was “only that daft Jim Knee,” but even so, it was an arresting sight, and one that made the Castle people feel oddly proud. Where else would you find an ExtraOrdinary Wizard, a tiger and an
Enchanted
sled race on the very same day?

Suddenly Septimus caught sight of the Queen on the other side of the course, heading toward the Castle Walls. “Jen!” he called out.

Jenna gave him a wave, hesitated and then hurried over to him. As she drew nearer, she stopped. “You've got a tiger,” she said.

“Yes. I found him at last. Jim Knee.”

Jenna relaxed into a smile. “Ah. I see the yellow eyes now. But . . . are you sure it's Jim Knee? Don't all tigers have yellow eyes?”

“Do they?” Septimus looked down at the tiger, who lazily opened his mouth to display some very long teeth and then closed it with a growl. “Well, I'm pretty sure it
is
him. I mean,
how many tigers
do
we have loose in the Castle right now? I suppose that's something the Queen always knows?”

“Goodness, Sep. None, I hope!” Jenna said. She put her arm through his. “You are a silly tease sometimes,” she said. “I'm glad I saw you. I've been trying to get away all morning but there has been so much Queen stuff today, you would not believe.”

“Well, you're just in time for the start of the Apprentice,” Septimus said. “I've saved a seat for you in the stand.”

Jenna shook her head. “I'm sorry, Sep, I'm going to have to miss it.”

“But you
can't
. Everyone's expecting you.”

Jenna looked miserable. “I know. I'm sorry. Don't be mad, Sep. Beetle's upset enough already. But there's only three more hours of good daylight and I want to get to Galen's before dark.”

Galen, a healer who had taught Sarah Heap all she knew about herbs and healing and with whom Sarah and Silas Heap were staying, lived in a rambling treehouse deep in the Forest. Septimus was shocked. “You're not going into the
Forest
, Jen?”

“I'm going to find Mum and Dad. They need to know about Sam.”

“But Jen, you
can't
. It's dangerous—and especially for you. You know, now you're Queen.”

Jenna shrugged. “Queen or Princess, Sep, it makes no difference. Anyway, it's not as dangerous as you think. I've got . . . connections there now.”

“Connections?”

Jenna took Septimus's arm and walked him across the starting grid.

“Oi!” came a yell from a steward.
“Getoffthecourse!”
On race day, respect for the Queen came second to the sanctity of the track.

Jenna shouted out her apologies, then she steered Septimus and his tiger away. They headed up the steps beside the final ramp that swept down from the top of the Castle Wall toward the race finish. Once they had reached the battlements, Jenna glanced around to make sure no one was in earshot and continued walking. There was just room for the two of them on the cinder track that ran beside the polished icy snow of the racecourse.

“Sep,” Jenna said, “you know how Morwenna from the Wendron Witches tried to kidnap me just before I was crowned?”

Septimus nodded. Jenna had got the better of the Wendrons' Witch Mother, but it had been a dangerous moment.

“And you know that if I ever have a daughter, the Wendrons will be after her as soon as she is born?”

Septimus looked at Jenna, shocked. “Jen, you're not . . .”

Jenna laughed. “No, Sep. I am not planning on having a daughter just yet. But if I do I am determined not to be held to ransom by those witches. And so . . .” Jenna dropped her voice and looked around to make sure no one was listening. “I have been making, shall we say . . . arrangements. I have my own witches in the Forest now. Spies.”

Septimus looked at Jenna with new respect. “Wow, Jen. How did you do
that
?”

“With this.” Jenna drew back her red cloak, which was lined with white fur. Underneath she wore a Port Witch Coven cloak in deepest black.

Septimus looked disapproving. “You've still got that old thing?” he asked.

“Well, obviously I have still got it, Sep. This is why I am wearing it,” Jenna teased.

Septimus pulled a face.

“Hey, don't be grumpy, Sep. It's very useful. A Queen needs a bit of an edge to her. And this is my edge.” Jenna waved the cloak at Septimus. He stepped back and nearly slipped
headlong onto the racetrack. “Oops, careful! Sep, don't look so worried. This cloak doesn't do much at all. I rely on other enticements—a promise of safe haven in the Palace anytime they need it. A bag of gold every MidWinter Feast and free food at Wizard Sandwiches.”

“Free food at Wizard Sandwiches is an
enticement
?” Septimus grinned. “I'd have thought never having to go to Wizard Sandwiches would work better.”

Jenna smiled. When she was with Septimus her cares dropped away and she felt like a teenager again. “You are so
mean
, Sep.”

“As ExtraOrdinary Wizard I am supposed to be mean,” Septimus replied with a smile. “It's part of the job description.”

“Silly boy. But seriously, Sep, the thing with witches is that on a personal level, they don't have any money at all. Some of the covens are quite rich but it doesn't mean that the novices see any of it. And they are often hungry, especially in the winter. The newbies usually end up with just the bones and gristle at the bottom of the wolverine stew pot.”

“Oh, yuck,” said Septimus.

“So being able to eat for free is wonderful for them. And being somewhere warm. And of course Wizard Sandwiches is
not the kind of place that asks questions.”

“Most of them look like they belong to a coven anyway,” Septimus said.

“Exactly,” Jenna agreed. “So you are not to worry about me. My escorts are waiting and I'm going straight to Galen's treehouse. I'll spend the night there and bring Mum and Dad back tomorrow.”

“But can't your witch spies just take a message to Mum and Dad?” Septimus asked.

“I am not having Mum upset by a couple of witches turning up and telling her that her son is dangerously ill. Really, Sep.
Think
about it.”

“Okay, Jen. You're the boss.” Septimus knew when to keep quiet.

“Yep. That's right.” Jenna grinned.

With Jim Knee trailing disconsolately behind, the Castle Queen and the ExtraOrdinary Wizard wandered along the battlements, looking down at the bright pennants that marked the edge of the course blowing in the breeze. They walked on in silence until Jenna said, “Actually, there is something you might want to know. Jo-Jo's girlfriend, you know, Marissa?”

“Oh,
her
,” Septimus said scathingly.

“Hmm, her. Well, she's up to something.”

“So what's new?” asked Septimus.

“It's probably nothing,” Jenna said. “But my two, er, contacts say that she's working with Morwenna on something—and it's a big deal.”

“What kind of big deal?” Septimus asked.

“They don't know. But Marissa told Jo-Jo that she's through with what she calls ‘small fry' and she included not only him but
you
in that.” Jenna gave Septimus a quizzical look. “I don't know why.”

“Neither do I,” Septimus protested. “I've had nothing to do with Marissa. Well, not for ages, Jen. Honestly.”

Jenna raised her eyebrows. “None of my business, Septimus Heap. Anyway, I thought you'd want to know.”

They had reached the end of the wall and now took the steps beside the sled ramp down to the North Gate. At the drawbridge Jenna gave the bridge boy a silver crown. Everyone else paid to get into the Castle, but the tradition was that the Queen paid to get out. There was no fixed price, but anything less than a half crown would have been considered stingy.

“Bye, Sep,” Jenna said. “See you tomorrow with Mum and Dad.”

Septimus looked over to the Forest opposite. The tops of the trees were softened by snow and the contrast made the space beneath them seem even darker and more menacing than usual. He frowned. “Spies can't always be trusted, you know.”

Jenna nodded. “I know,” she said quietly.

Septimus hugged Jenna and felt the witch cloak hanging heavy beneath the fine red velvet. “Be careful,” he said. “Please.”

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