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Jenna stared at the Doors. She thought about what Septimus had told her lay behind them, the True Glass of Time, and she felt a terrible longing to be home in her own Time, with everything back as it should be: Septimus in the Wizard Tower with Marcia, Nicko working down at Jannit Maarten's boatyard. She would be back in her own Palace, free of the living Etheldredda, at least, and once again the Palace would be a friendly place, home to Silas and Sarah pottering about and occasionally getting lost.
“We have to get the Keye, Sep,” she said. “We have to.”
Nicko, ever practical, was eyeing the Doors with a boat-builder's eye. “I'm sure we could get them open somehow,” he said. “Those hinges look a bit weak to me.”
“They're not just ordinary doors, Nik,” said Septimus. “They're Locked with Marcellus's Keye.” Nicko was not convinced. He took his screwdriver out of his pocket and poked it into one of the hinges. The statues raised their swords and pointed them at Nicko.
“Whoa there,” protested Nicko. “No need to get excited.”
Ullr growled. “Shh, Ullr.” Snorri stroked Ullr's neck and pulled him close to her, but the NightUllr's orange-tipped tail was fluffed out like that of an irritated house cat, and his hackles were raised.
It is strange how voices carry through a Labyrinth. They find their way along the passageways and appear in the center as clear and bright as if the speaker was standing beside you, particularly if the voice has the penetrating quality of a dentist's drill. Which is why everyone in the Great Chamber of Alchemie and Physik suddenly jumped with fright as the shrill tones of Queen Etheldredda entered the Chamber. “I care not to hear thy troubles, Marcellus. I shall have the Potion now. I have tarried long enough. This night did show me not to suffer fools, and I will not suffer thy foolishness a moment longer. Oh, for how long does this lamentable Labyrinth wind its tedious way?”
“For as long as it must, Mother.”
The sound of Marcellus's exasperated voice spurred Septimus into action. “They're coming,” he whispered. “Quick—into the fume cupboard. We'll have to wait until Etheldredda's gone.”
Septimus opened the door of a large cupboard in the wall and blew out his rushlight.
With only the glow from his Dragon Ring to light their way, everyone squeezed into the foul-smelling cupboard and Septimus pulled the door closed.
“Oh, rats,” muttered Septimus, his ring lighting up what Jenna had assumed was a coil of black rope on the shelf at the back of the cupboard, “I forgot the snake was in here.”
“Snake?” whispered Jenna.
“Yeah. It's okay, it's not all that poisonous.”
“So how poisonous would 'not all that poisonous' be then, Sep?” asked Nicko, who was fighting a longing to open the door and just get out of there.
But no one heard Septimus's reply. Queen Etheldredda made sure of that.
41
The Phial
The door to the fume cupboard closed just as Queen Etheldredda's pointy left foot stepped over the threshold of the Great Chamber of Alchemie and Physik. She was closely followed by Marcellus Pye, who did not trust his mother to be alone in the Chamber for even a second.
Marcellus looked tired and disheveled after a long night searching the Palace for his Apprentice and the girl his mother insisted was Princess Esmeralda. He was still wearing his formal Master of Alchemie robes that he had put on for the banquet—which were, to his dismay, now liberally splattered with orange sauce. Around his neck, as ever, hung his Keye to the Doors of Time.
Queen Etheldredda marched in, head held high, followed by her Aie-Aie, which clattered behind her, running on its long fingernails. She looked around with her usual expression of disgust. "Forsooth, Marcellus, thou dost a tawdry Chamber keep.
So much gold that I hardly know where to rest mine eyes. 'Tis like unto a tinker's bazaar, which is where I trow thou dost buy thy gold trifles and trinkets with which thee doth rattle like a broken cart."
Marcellus Pye looked hurt at his mother's insults.
Queen Etheldredda sniffed disdainfully. “Thou'rt a tender Plant, Marcellus. I shall have my Potion now before thee doth expire from a Fitte of the Vapors.”
“No, Mama,” came Marcellus's determined voice, “thou shall not have it.”
“Indeed, I shall have it, Marcellus. Do I not see it in its glass cabinet a-waiting me?”
“That is not yours, Mama!”
“Methinks thou art a Laggard with the Truth, Marcellus. Thou wert always a deceitful child. Indeed, I shall have it, and I shall have it now.” Etheldredda's voice rose to a particularly unpleasant note. The Aie-Aie opened its mouth, showing its sharp, long fang, and screeched in sympathy.
Inside the fume cupboard, Ullr whined—the Aie-Aie's screech made his sensitive ears hurt horribly.
“And thou shalt not mock me,” Etheldredda told Marcellus sharply.
“I mock thee not, Mama.”
“Thou doth whine like a baby.”
“Indeed, Mama, I do not,” said Marcellus sulkily.
“Thou dost whine and I will not allow it.” Etheldredda's voice reached a new pitch and set the Aie-Aie off again. This time the creature did not stop.
Marcellus put his fingers in his ears and yelled, “For pity's sake, Mama, make that creature cease its screaming 'ere my ears do burst!”
Etheldredda had no intention of making the Aie-Aie stop. It was upsetting Marcellus and that was fine by her. On and on it yowled like a cat caught in a trap. If the noise was painful for Marcellus, it was unbearable for Ullr. He let out a howl of pain and wrenched himself from Snorri's grasp. The next yell from Etheldredda was one of sheer terror as the fume cupboard door burst open and a panther—hackles raised, claws extended, teeth bared—hurtled out.
Unfortunately for Ullr, he found that instead of escaping the noise, he had run straight into the middle of it, for at the sight of the panther, the Aie-Aie ran up Etheldredda's skirts and continued screeching at panther ear level. The big cat's ears felt as though someone was boring into them. Desperate to get away from the noise, he ran across the chamber and disappeared into the Labyrinth.
“Ullr!” yelled Snorri, bursting out of the cupboard in pursuit of her beloved cat. She raced across the room, unhindered by a shocked Marcellus and a terrified Etheldredda, and disappeared into the Labyrinth, hot on the heels of Ullr.
Septimus felt Nicko's muscles tense, and he knew that his brother wanted to chase after Snorri. He grabbed hold of Nicko before he could move. Inside the fume cupboard there was a terrible hush as the door slowly swung fully open, and the three remaining occupants came face-to-face with Marcellus and Etheldredda.
“Forsooth, thou hast some strange creatures in thy cupboard, Marcellus,” said Etheldredda somewhat hoarsely after her long screech. “But methinks the Princess Esmeralda has played her little game of hide-and-seek once too often. Fetch the child out, Marcellus. She shall vex thee no more.”
“She vexes me not, Mama. And if thee didst but know your daughter as a mother should, thou wouldst know that the child is not Esmeralda.” Marcellus glowered at his mother.
“Thou'rt a Fool,” retorted Etheldredda. “Who but Esmeralda could she be?”
“She will answer for herself, Mama.” Marcellus gave Septimus a wry smile. “I trust they paid thee well for thy services at the Palace?”
Sheepishly, Septimus shook his head.
Marcellus ushered them out, saying, “Come thee away now, for the black snake sleepeth there and thou dost discomfit it. Remember, we shall be taking the venom tomorrow—to add to the Tincture.”
“Knave!” cried Etheldredda. “Thou wouldst poison thine own mother!”
“As thou hast poisoned thine own poore daughters, Mama? No, indeed, I wouldst not.”
Seeing that she was getting nowhere, Etheldredda changed her tones to a sugary sweetness that fooled no one, least of all Marcellus. “Pray unlock the cabinet, Marcellus, and show me the pretty blue phial, for I do yearn to see at close hand the wonders that my Dearest Son hath wrought.”
“Thou hast but one son, Mama,” said Marcellus sourly. “ 'Twould surely be a strangeness if he were not your dearest son, when placed against an absence of other sons, though I doubt he would remain your dearest of all were you to include your hunting hounds in the reckoning.”
“Thou moans and mithers as well as thee ever did, Marcellus. Pray now, show me the phial that I may gaze upon it, for 'tis a pretty thing with much gold upon it.”
