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“In that case I would like to make an appointment, please,” Jenna told him.
“Veeeeeeeeewy well. You may enter when you have made it. Good-bye.”
“But how do we make—” The DoorKeeper began to close the door. “No—wait!” Jenna yelled.
Beetle leaped forward and put his foot against the door. The DoorKeeper pushed hard against Beetle’s boot. A battle developed between Beetle’s boot and the door, but inch by inch the DoorKeeper pushed Beetle’s boot back. Beetle added his shoulder to the pressure of his boot and leaned against the door, but the strength of the DoorKeeper was out of proportion to his small size. Jenna began to panic. They had to get inside—they had to. It was unthinkable to be so close to Nicko and to have the door slammed in their faces. She threw herself at the door, adding her weight to Beetle’s, but still the door kept closing.
“Stop!” yelled Septimus. “We don’t need an appointment.” He thrust the Questing Stone under the nose of the DoorKeeper. “We’ve got this.”
The DoorKeeper stopped pushing and looked at the Stone. He peered up at Septimus and said suspiciously, “What, are all of you on the Queste?”
“Yes,” said Septimus defiantly.
“Typical. You wait thousands of years for one Appwentice and then thwee come along at once.”
Jenna stared at the DoorKeeper in amazement. He spoke exactly as Silas had done—he couldn’t pronounce his Rs. Did Silas know about the House of Foryx, she wondered? Had he been here once?
The DoorKeeper scrutinized them more closely, taking in the fact that only Septimus wore a green tunic. “You can come in,” he said to Septimus, “but the other two can’t.”
Jenna panicked at the thought of Septimus going into the House of Foryx on his own. If he did, she was sure they would never see him again. She imagined herself and Beetle waiting outside for days, for weeks—months even, and then going home without him. That
was unbearable. In desperation—remembering the next part of Silas’s bedtime story—she said, “We demand the Right of the Riddle.”
The DoorKeeper looked at her in amazement. “You what?” he asked.
Aware that Septimus and Beetle were staring at her as though she had gone crazy, Jenna repeated, “We demand the Right of the Riddle.”
“The Wight of the Widdle?”
“Yes,” said Jenna very firmly, determined to keep a straight face—despite a suppressed splutter from Beetle.
“Vewy well,” the DoorKeeper replied grumpily.
“Go on, then,” prompted Jenna.
The DoorKeeper sighed and began to chant in his high-pitched voice,
“I spit like bacon,
I am made with an egg,
I have plenty of backbone, but lack a good leg,
I peel layers like onions, but still wemain whole,
I am long like a flagpole, yet fit in a hole,
What am I?”
Now Jenna understood Snorri’s drawing. “A snake,” she replied with a grin.
The DoorKeeper looked surprised and not particularly pleased. “Vewy well. You have two more. I think you will not be smiling then.” Once more he began his chant:
“What force and stwength cannot get thwough,
I with a gentle touch can do.
And many in the stweet would stand,
Were I not a fwend at hand.
What am I?”
Jenna knew at once. “A key,” she said.
Now the DoorKeeper was irritated. “Cowect,” he said very reluctantly. “But you will not find this one so easy.” He began once again, this time chanting much faster and in a whisper. They leaned forward to catch his words.
“I am only one color, but not one size.
Though I’m chained to the earth, I can easily fly.
I am pwesent in sun, but not in wain,
I do no harm, I feel no pain.
What am I?”
This time Jenna was stumped. What else was on the map? There was nothing she could remember.
“I’m wait—ing,” said the DoorKeeper in a singsong sneer. “You have one minute to answer and then I shall let the Questor in. Alone. You two can go home—if you pay the Toll-Man enough.” He gave a horrible chuckle.
In a panic, Jenna unfolded the map.
“No cheating. I said no cheating!” The DoorKeeper screamed excitedly. He snatched the map and began tearing it into shreds.
“No!” yelled Jenna, lunging forward to grab the map. “Give it back!”
“Jen, Jen, we don’t need it anymore,” said Septimus, pulling Jenna back. “We’ve got to keep calm and think.”
“Twenty seconds,” came the DoorKeeper’s taunting squeak. “Fifteen seconds…ten, nine, eight, seven—”
Septimus summoned up Snorri’s drawing in his mind—the snake, the key, the shaded House of Foryx.
“Four, thwee, two…”
And then he got it.
“One—”
“Shadow!”
The DoorKeeper glared at them. He said nothing, though the door spoke for him as he heaved it open with a chorus of groans and Septimus stepped over the threshold. But as Jenna went to follow the DoorKeeper began to push the door closed.
“No!” yelled Beetle. “You let Jenna in.” He leaped forward and threw himself at the door. The DoorKeeper staggered back, the door flew open and Jenna, Beetle and Septimus fell into the House of Foryx.
The door slammed behind them with a bang.
“Oh no!” Beetle gasped, suddenly realizing his mistake. “Let me out, let me out!”
It was too late. Time was suspended.
45
THE HOUSE OF FORYX
O h, pigs,” said Beetle. “Pigs pigs pigs.”
“Oh…Beetle,” whispered Jenna, feeling sick.
“I don’t believe I could be so stupid. How are we going to get back into our Time now?”
The DoorKeeper looked up at Beetle. “Time?” he said with a lopsided grin. “What is Time now that you are here?
Welcome to the House of Fowyx.”
They were in the checkerboard lobby that Aunt Ells had described—but the tall dragon chair that Aunt Ells had so resolutely sat on was empty. Jenna felt overwhelmed by disappointment. She had expected Nicko to be sitting on the chair waiting for them just as Aunt Ells had done, and he wasn’t there.
“Leave your bags here,” said the DoorKeeper, pointing to a large cupboard.
Jenna took out Ullr from her backpack and tucked him firmly under her arm—much to the DoorKeeper’s surprise. The DoorKeeper threw the bags into the cupboard, and then turned to watch the new arrivals.
In front of them was a pair of silver doors—a smaller version of those in the Wizard Tower, although much more ornate, as they were covered with hieroglyphs. The DoorKeeper pushed them open and ushered Jenna, Septimus and Beetle into the House of Foryx. They stood stock still, three small figures dwarfed between two huge marble pillars, the snow on their boots melting in the warmth and making puddles on the white marble floor. Before them was a great space lit with thousands of candles and yet still shadowy and dim.
Jenna felt dizzy, as though she were standing on the edge of a whirling carousel in a foggy, silent fairground, waiting for her turn—and she did not want her turn to come. Septimus was reminded of the Wizard Tower. There was a certain sense of things not being quite what they appeared to be, a feeling of things shifting slightly whenever you tried to focus on them, giving the sensation that the more you looked, the less you saw. Beetle was reminded of something too—the inside of the Dangerous Bin in the yard at the Manuscriptorium. On a dare he had once taken off the lid and seen a deep, foggy whirlpool inside that had made him want to dive in and swim around and around forever—until Foxy had grabbed his collar and pulled him away.
The DoorKeeper regarded their expressions with amusement. He generally made a point of being unamused by everything, but he made an exception for the expressions on the faces of newcomers as they tried to make sense of the Eddies of Time. After some minutes, having had his fill of fun for the day—indeed for the next few months—the DoorKeeper scuttled off through a tiny gilded door in the pillar next to Jenna and slammed it shut.
The slamming of the door brought them back to reality. “Come on,” whispered Septimus. “Let’s go in.” They linked arms and together they stepped into the slow, muggy vortex of candle smoke and Time.
