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The creature, whatever it was, moaned and groaned pathetically. Then it puffed, splashed and groaned some more. Jenna had never heard anything like it before. It also sounded rather large. Taking care to keep out of sight, Jenna crept behind the thick green tail of the Dragon Boat, which was curled up and resting on the landing stage; then she peered over to see what creature could possibly be making so much fuss.
It was the Apprentice.
He lay facedown on a tarry plank of wood that looked as though it had come from the Vengeance and was paddling it along the Mott using just his hands. He looked exhausted. His grubby green robes clung to him and steamed in the early morning warmth, and his lanky dark hair was straggling over his eyes. He seemed hardly to have the energy to raise his head and look where he was going.
“Oi!” yelled Jenna. “Go away.” She picked up a rock to throw at him.
“No. Please don’t,” pleaded the boy.
Nicko appeared.
“What’s up, Jen?” He followed Jenna’s gaze. “Hey, shove off, you!” he yelled.
The Apprentice took no notice. He paddled his plank up to the landing stage and then just lay there, exhausted.
“What do you want?” asked Jenna.
“I…the ship…it’s gone down. I escaped.”
“Scum always floats to the surface,” Nicko observed.
“We were covered in creatures. Brown, slimy…things.” The boy shivered. “They pulled us down into the marsh. I couldn’t breathe. Everyone’s gone. Please help me.”
Jenna stared at him, wavering. She had woken up early because she had been having nightmares full of screaming Brownies pulling her down into the marsh. Jenna shuddered. She didn’t want to think about it. If she couldn’t bear to even think about it, how much worse must it be for a boy who had actually been there?
The Apprentice could see that Jenna was hesitating. He tried again.
“I—I’m sorry for what I did to that animal of yours.”
“The Boggart is not an animal,” said Jenna indignantly. “And he is not ours. He is a creature of the marsh. He belongs to no one.”
“Oh.” The Apprentice could see he had made a mistake. He changed back to what had worked before.
“I’m sorry. I—I just…feel so scared.”
Jenna relented.
“We can’t just leave him lying on a plank,” she said to Nicko.
“I don’t see why not,” said Nicko, “except I suppose he’s polluting the Mott.”
“We’d better take him inside,” said Jenna. “Come on, give us a hand.”
They helped the Apprentice off his plank and half carried, half led him up the path and into the cottage.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in” was Aunt Zelda’s comment as Nicko and Jenna dumped the boy down in front of the fire, waking up a bleary-eyed Boy 412.
Boy 412 got up and moved away. He had seen a flicker of Darke Magyk as the Apprentice came in.
The Apprentice sat pale and shivering beside the fire. He looked ill.
“Don’t let him out of your sight, Nicko,” said Aunt Zelda. “I’ll go and get him a hot drink.”
Aunt Zelda came back with a mug of chamomile and cabbage tea. The Apprentice pulled a face but drank it down. At least it was hot.
When he had finished, Aunt Zelda said to him, “I think you had better tell us why you have come here. Or rather, you had better tell Madam Marcia. Marcia, we have a visitor.”
Marcia was at the door, having just got back from an early morning walk around the island, partly to see what had happened to the Vengeance but mostly just to taste the sweet spring air and the even sweeter taste of freedom. Although Marcia was thin after almost five weeks’ imprisonment and there were still dark shadows under her eyes, she looked much better than she had the night before. Her purple silk robes and tunic were fresh and clean, thanks to a complete Five-Minute DeepClean Spell, which she hoped had got rid of any traces of Darke Magyk. Darke Magyk was sticky stuff and Marcia had had to be particularly thorough. Her belt shone bright after its Pristine Polish and around her neck hung the Akhu Amulet. Marcia felt good. She had her Magyk back, once again she was ExtraOrdinary Wizard, and all was right with the world.
Apart from the galoshes.
Marcia kicked the offending articles of footwear off at the door and peered into the cottage, which seemed gloomy after the bright spring sunshine. There was a particular darkness by the fire, and it took a moment for Marcia to register who exactly was sitting there. When she realized who it was, her expression clouded.
“Ah, the rat from the sinking ship,” she snapped.
The Apprentice said nothing. He looked shiftily at Marcia, his pitch-black eyes coming to rest on the Amulet.
“Don’t touch him, anyone,” warned Marcia.
Jenna was surprised at Marcia’s tone, but she moved away from the Apprentice as did Nicko. Boy 412 went over to Marcia.
The Apprentice was left alone by the fire. He turned to face the disapproving circle that surrounded him. It was not meant to go like this. They were meant to feel sorry for him. The Queenling did. He had already won her over. And the mad White Witch. It was just his luck that the interfering ex–ExtraOrdinary Wizard had turned up at the wrong moment. He scowled in frustration.
Jenna looked at the Apprentice. He looked different somehow, but she could not work out what it was. She put it down to his terrible night on a ship. Being dragged into the Quake Ooze by hundreds of screaming Brownies would be enough to give anyone the dark, haunted look in the boy’s eyes.
But Marcia knew why the boy looked different. On her morning walk around the island she had seen the reason why, and it was a sight that had quite put her off her breakfast; although, admittedly, it did not take much to put Marcia off Aunt Zelda’s breakfasts.
So when the Apprentice suddenly leaped to his feet and ran toward Marcia with his hands outstretched, poised to grab at her throat, Marcia was ready for him. She ripped the clutching fingers from the Amulet and hurled the Apprentice out the door with a resounding crack of a Thunderflash.
The boy lay sprawled, unconscious, on the path.
Everyone crowded around.
Aunt Zelda was shocked. “Marcia,” she muttered, “I think you might have overdone it. He may be the most unpleasant boy I have ever had the misfortune to come across, but he’s still only a boy.”
“Not necessarily” was Marcia’s grim reply. “And I haven’t finished yet. Stand back, please, everyone.”
“But,” whispered Jenna, “he’s our brother.”
“I think not,” said Marcia crisply.
Aunt Zelda put her hand on Marcia’s arm. “Marcia. I know you’re angry. You have every right to be after your time as a prisoner, but you mustn’t take it out on a child.”
“I’m not taking it out on a child, Zelda. You should know me better than that. This is no child. This is DomDaniel.”
“What?”
“Anyway, Zelda, I am no Necromancer,” Marcia told her. “I will never take a life. All I can do is to return him to where he was when he did this dreadful thing—to make sure that he does not profit from what he has done.”
“No!” yelled the Apprentice-shaped DomDaniel.
He cursed the thin, reedy voice in which he was forced to speak. It had annoyed him enough to hear it when it had belonged to the wretched boy, but now that it belonged to him it was unbearable.
DomDaniel struggled to his feet. He could not believe the failure of his plan to retrieve the Amulet. He had had them all fooled. They had taken him in out of their misguided pity, and they would have looked after him too, until he found the right time to take back the Amulet. And then—ah, how different things would have been then. Desperately he gave it one last try. He threw himself to his knees.
“Please,” he begged. “You’ve got it wrong. It’s only me. I’m not—”
“Begone!” Marcia commanded him.
“No!” he screamed.
But Marcia continued:
Begone.
Back to where you were,
When you were
What you were!
And he was gone, back to the Vengeance, buried deep in the dark recesses of the mud and the Ooze.
Aunt Zelda looked upset. She still could not believe that the Apprentice really was DomDaniel. “That’s a terrible thing to do, Marcia,” she said. “Poor boy.”
