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"There's some more bloomin' kids!"
"Where?"
"On the Pinnacle, Skip. Where you wanna put the Light."
"I know perfectly well where I want to put the Light, thank you, Mr. Crowe,"
Skipper Fry growled. "And I shall be putting it there very soon, kids or no kids."
"No kids is best," said Thin Crowe. "Yer want me ter remove 'em?"
"Lurker!" yelled Jakey.
Skipper Fry yanked on the tiller. "Where?" he shouted. "Port or starboard, boy?"
"Starboard," yelled Jakey.
Skipper Fry shoved the tiller away from him and the Marauder sailed past the jagged rock lurking below.
Jakey Fry looked up at the Pinnacle. They were getting closer. He thought it looked like Lucy on top, though he didn't see how it could be. But if it was Lucy, he hoped she got out of the way pretty quick. In fact, he hoped whoever it was got out of the way pretty quick.
With carefully engineered shouts of "Lurker, port!" and "Lurker, starboard!" Jakey Fry made sure the Marauder sailed out of the line of sight of the Pinnacle in the hope that Lucy Gringe - if it was her - had time to disappear.
In the excitement of nearly reaching their destination, Skipper Fry had forgotten something that all sailors know - sound travels loud and clear across water. Beetle and Jenna had heard every word from the Marauder, and they were not about to wait around to be "removed." They clambered down the Pinnacle and quickly made their way back across the stepping-stone rocks to the shore. Once on the rocks they ran, dodging for cover, toward a sweep of sand dunes below the wooded hill. By the time the Marauder came back into view the Pinnacle was once again deserted.
They threw themselves into the soft sand of the dunes and caught their breath.
"They can't see us here," Beetle puffed.
"No," said Jenna. "I wonder what they're doing?"
"Nothing good, that's for sure."
"That boat coming here," said Jenna, "it's horrible. It feels like...like..." She searched for the words.
"Like we've been invaded," Beetle supplied.
"Exactly. I wish they'd go away."
Beetle did too.
They watched the Marauder's approach. The boat was a dark, fat shape against the sparkling blue water. Its two triangular foresails billowed gently, its huge mainsail was out at right angles and its little staysail stuck out at the stern on a spar like a stubby tail. Behind it followed a great ball of Light, which competed with the afternoon sun - and won.
The Marauder finally made it to the Pinnacle, which stood out like a dark finger, taller than ever against the retreating tide. Jenna and Beetle watched a hefty figure clamber onto the landing platform and secure the boat to the iron ring. Then the Marauder swung around behind the rock so that they could see no more than the bowsprit and foresails jutting out from one side and the brilliance of the Light on the other.
For the next hour, Jenna and Beetle watched, through half-closed eyes, a bizarre operation from behind their sand dune. They saw a ball of brilliant light being laboriously winched up the Pinnacle until finally, secured by a web of ropes, it balanced precariously on the flat top.
"What are they doing?" said Jenna.
"I think they're wrecking," said Beetle.
"Wrecking - you mean like they used to do on Wild Rocks in the old days?"
"Yep," said Beetle, who like all Castle children had grown up with tales of the terrifying rocky coast beyond the Forest and the wild people there who lived by luring ships to their doom. "But the really strange thing is, they're using what looks like an ancient Sphere of Light. Where could they possibly have gotten that?"
"The lighthouse," said Jenna. "Remember how we couldn't see the Light this morning? They've stolen it from the lighthouse."
"Of course," said Beetle. "Wow, that lighthouse must be incredibly old. This is such a weird place."
"And getting weirder all the time," said Jenna. "Look at that." She pointed out to sea, where, to the right of the Pinnacle, a long red pipe with a bend at the top was rising from the water. Beetle and Jenna watched as the pipe swiveled around until it was pointing at the Pinnacle and stopped. It then stayed motionless. The only movement was from the white tops of tiny waves breaking over a red rock below the pipe.
"That's a Looking Tube," said Beetle. "We've got - I mean, they've got - one like that in the Manuscriptorium. It goes down into the UnStable Spell room so that we - they - can keep an eye on what's going on."
"So there's someone watching from under the sea?" said Jenna.
"Looks like it," said Beetle. "Like you said, it's getting weirder all the time."
Chapter 34 The Syren
Septimus and Syrah were walking across the springy turf of the cliff top toward the Peepe. A stiff breeze blew, bringing with it the smell of the sea.
"Septimus," murmured Syrah, "there are some things I must tell you, but I will look at the ground while I speak. The Syren can read what you say by looking at your lips."
"She can see us?" asked Septimus, a shiver running through him.
"She Watches through the windows at the top - do not look up. I need to tell you this in case things go wrong - "
"Don't even think like that," Septimus warned.
"But for your sake, I must. I want to tell you how to escape."
"I won't need to," said Septimus. "We will walk back out together. Like this." He took hold of Syrah's hand. Syrah smiled.
"But, just in case," she insisted. "You need to know that once you are inside the Peepe, the entrance will disappear - though it is still there. Make a mark on the floor as we go in. Also, in the Deeps - "
"The Deeps?"
"Yes, this is where we must go. You will see why when we are there. You have the Keye hidden under your tunic?"
Septimus nodded.
"Good. Now, if you need to escape from the Deeps, there are some steps that go back up to the Peepe, but do not take them unless you absolutely have to. They are bedded deep inside the rock, and the air is unsafe. There are steps from the Lookout, which is a line of windows in the cliff, and those are fine. You will find them opposite the middle window. All right?"
Septimus nodded, even though he felt far from all right.
They had reached the shadow of the Peepe. "Turn around and look at the sea," said Syrah. "Is it not beautiful?"
Septimus glanced at Syrah, puzzled. It seemed odd to be admiring the sea at such a moment - but then he realized what Syrah was doing, and he turned away from the Watching windows of the Peepe.
They looked out across the shimmering heat haze, and Septimus saw yet another island - a rounded green hillock with a tiny strip of white beach - set in the sparkling azure sea. The sun shone warm on the breezy cliff top, and he breathed in the salt air, savoring it as if he were taking his last breaths.
"Septimus," whispered Syrah, "I must warn you that when we go into the Peepe, there will be a few horrible moments while, um, things happen to me. At first I will not be in control of my body, but do not be alarmed. Count slowly to one hundred and by then I will - unless something goes wrong - be able to do what I want. I shall not, however, be able to say what I want - the Syren has a way with words. So remember this: Trust only my actions, not my words. Do you understand?"
"Yes, I understand, but..."
"But what?"
"Well, what I don't understand is, surely the Syren will wonder why I am there - I mean, I don't suppose you often bring your friends home?" Septimus attempted a smile. Syrah stared at the brilliant blue. "No, I don't," she murmured. "But the Syren will welcome you. She has said that she wishes for others, that she is tired of me. You do appreciate what I am saying?" Syrah asked. "This is a dangerous thing for you to do. You can still walk away, back into the sunshine."
"I know I can," Septimus said, "but I am not going to."
Syrah gave him a relieved smile. She turned, and together they walked the last few yards to the Peepe. They stopped in front of the ancient rounded archway, which was filled with a shifting darkness that Septimus recognized from the description in the young ExtraOrdinary Wizard's will.
Syrah turned to him, her eyes anxious. MindScreen, she mouthed. Septimus nodded and squeezed Syrah's hand. Together they stepped through the shadows - and into the surprising brightness of the Peepe. Syrah dropped Septimus's hand as though it had suddenly burned her and ran to the far wall of the tower, putting as much distance between them as possible.
