SandRider (6 page)

Sam struggled to keep his eyes open but Kaznim knew he was beginning to drift away. Marwick looked up at her in despair. “The Sick Bay is his only hope. And we can't get past this
Seal
.” He got to his feet. “We'll have to take him around
the long way.” He shook his head in consternation, “At least four more Hubs to get back to where we are now.”

As a daughter of an Apothecary, there were things that Kaznim knew that Marwick did not. Kaznim saw the dull film covering Sam's green eyes and she knew that Sam Heap had no hope of traveling through four more Hubs.

PART III

S
EVENTY
-F
IVE
H
OURS TO
H
ATCHING

A
lice TodHunter Moon, Apprentice to
the ExtraOrdinary Wizard, had been in the job for little more than two months. Alice—who liked to be called Tod—had spent most of that time feeling excited and confused in equal measures. Now she was headed for the early-morning Wizard Tower Moot and a new feeling of apprehension began to creep over her.

The Moot was a weekly meeting that the ExtraOrdinary Wizard, Septimus Heap, had recently set up. It was held in the Great Hall of the Wizard Tower very early on a Monday morning so it did not interfere with the rest of the day's schedule. The idea was that the Moot would focus on one particular issue at a time until it was resolved. Septimus reckoned that any problem could be worked out if enough Wizards thought
about it—but he was yet to be proved right. The conundrum the Moot was trying to solve was the whereabouts of the Egg of the Orm. However, so far not one Wizard had come up with anything useful.

Tod was waiting in the shadows at the end of the Apprentice corridor beside the silver spiral stairs. Her short dark hair was neatly combed—unusual for Tod—and her long elflock hung down her back, plaited and tied with a green ribbon. The ribbon matched her still-pristine Apprentice robes, which Tod wore in the new fashion as a short woolen tunic, fastened by a silver Apprentice belt and green leggings. She had adopted the Wizard Tower habit of wearing boots lined with sheepskin in the winter, and today, because Tod wanted to look like a good Apprentice, their laces were also green. In her hand she held a small blue folder that she had painstakingly painted to look like lapis lazuli, on which she had written two short words:
Orm Egg
. With butterflies flapping in her stomach, Tod watched the stairs—which were still on slow nighttime mode—rotating downward. They carried a selection of the more pedantic Wizards who enjoyed meetings, along with some reptile experts, none of whom were speaking to one another after a row the previous week about whether a newly
hatched Orm ate its own egg sac. But it was not a good turnout; most Wizards had opted to stay in bed.

While Tod waited politely for a space on the stairs, she thought somewhat enviously of the other Apprentices in the junior dorms who were lucky enough to be having another hour's asleep. But as ExtraOrdinary Apprentice, Tod had much less freedom—she was expected to attend everything the ExtraOrdinary Wizard did. She was also expected to occasionally speak at meetings, and this was to be her first time. In fact, right then everything felt a little bit scary. There were rules she still did not understand and things she was afraid of doing wrong. The Wizard Tower sometimes felt like a big machine in which she was a very small cog. Resolutely, Tod pushed down a feeling of homesickness. At times like this she missed the simple life she had led in her PathFinder village far across the sea, but more than anything she missed her father, Dan Moon. And Tod knew he missed her too, far away in the house he had once shared with her and her mother, Cassi TodHunter Draa, who had died when Tod was little.

Tod's sad thoughts were interrupted by a friendly shout from above. “Alice, don't wait for me! Jump on!” It was Dr. Dandra Draa. An imposing woman with short dark hair
through which ran a striking streak of white, Dr. Draa was the Sick Bay Wizard and Tod's guardian. Now that Tod was an Apprentice, Dandra insisted on calling her Alice, “It
is
your proper name,” Dandra had told her. “And you should use it in your official capacity.” But no one else called her Alice, not even the ExtraOrdinary Wizard—much to Dandra's disapproval.

Tod jumped onto the step just below Dandra.

Dandra smiled. She was pleased to see the blue folder and know that her protégée was taking her duties seriously, but she could not help being a little mischievous. “Ready for more scrambled egg?” she asked.

Tod grinned. “Scrambled egg” was the name the Apprentices had given the subject of the Moot. Now it seemed to have spread. “
Egg
stremely ready,” said Tod.

“Alice, I do apologize,” Dandra said, deadpan. She waited for a split second and then said, “I really shouldn't be
egging
you on.”

Tod giggled. She loved Dandra's mixture of formality and fun.

The stairs took them from the dimness of the nighttime lights in the domestic part of the Wizard Tower down into
the shockingly bright arena of the Great Hall, an impressively vaulted space on the ground floor. Here, seven tall columns reared up to meet high above at a point in the center of its shimmering blue ceiling, on which were scattered constellations of stars twinkling brightly. As Tod and Dandra progressed downward, the blue sky faded into a pale green, which in turn morphed into brightly colored pictures around the walls of the Great Hall. These showed scenes from the long history of the Wizard Tower and had been created with an ancient
Magyk
. They flickered in and out of focus, and where the
Magyk
grew thin, they faded into black and white. The Great Hall was achingly bright for so early in the morning and Tod wished that Septimus would—as he'd been requested to do by the more elderly Wizards—“turn it down a bit.” But Septimus wanted everyone wide-awake on this dark winter morning.

Tod stepped off the stairs and as her foot touched the soft, sandlike surface of the
Magykal
floor, the multicolored words
G
OOD MORNING,
A
PPRENTICE
wandered through the grains at her feet and then
G
OOD LUCK WITH THE SPEECH
, which was quickly followed by
G
OOD MORNING
,
D
R.
D
RAA
.

Serious nerves attacked Tod as she and Dandra made their
way over to a young man wearing the heavy purple robes of the office of ExtraOrdinary Wizard. Septimus Heap looked up from a long, narrow table where he was leafing through a stack of papers. His straw-colored wavy hair was neatly tied back in a short ponytail and his bright green eyes flashed in the light when he smiled. “Tod, Dandra, good morning,” he said. “I have a distinct feeling that today is the day we make the breakthrough. I sense a kind of . . .” He stopped and searched for the right word. “Er,
connection
with the Egg. As though it is somehow coming closer to us.” Septimus became aware that Dr. Draa was looking at him as though he had fallen prey to a rather nasty illness. “I am perfectly all right, thank you, Dandra,” he said testily.

“I am pleased to hear it, ExtraOrdinary,” Dandra replied. “Although I am aware that the Delusion Bug is back in the Port. A very nasty virus.”

“I'm sure it is,” Septimus said. “But I am perfectly well, thank you.”

“The delusion of perfect wellness is one of its symptoms,” Dandra said gravely.

A flicker of worry passed across Septimus's face.

“Luckily,” Dandra added, “the very first symptom of all is a
rash of tiny blue spots on the nose.”

Septimus knew his nose was blue-spot free. He resisted the temptation to stick his tongue out at Dandra Draa, but contented himself with an irritable “Huh!”

The hands on the new clock above the tall silver double doors that led out of the Wizard Tower showed six o'clock exactly. It was time for the Moot to begin. With an air of disappointment Septimus surveyed the sparse gathering: about twenty Wizards, three final year Apprentices who needed good attendance reports and Boris Catchpole, a thoroughly useless ex-sub-Wizard who was employed as doorman. Septimus did not include in his count the strange figure that lay upon the visitors' bench by the main door, fast asleep.

The sleeping figure—a long, willowy man dressed in beautiful white silk robes with gold sandals on his feet—had attracted a few amused glances from those at the Moot. He was, they knew, Septimus's jinnee, Jim Knee. Jim Knee was not usually seen in winter months due to his habit of going into hibernation under a large pile of soft quilts. But the previous night his Master had rudely awoken him from his deep sleep. Only the best gold upon his feet and the softest silk for his robes—and a risky relaxation of the rules between jinnee
and Master, whereby Jim Knee was able to
Transform
into what he wanted,
when
he wanted—had persuaded Jim Knee to do as Septimus had commanded. Now, with his head upon his favorite goose-down pillow, the jinnee drifted back into a hazy doze, knowing that it was not going to last much longer.

Since becoming ExtraOrdinary Wizard, Septimus had discovered that it was only too easy to become overwhelmed by the huge amount of things he was meant to do. His solution had been to revert to his Young Army training: events were to begin and end
On Time, on the Chime
as the Young Army rhyme had it. Septimus had hated his time as a boy soldier, but he was surprised by how many aspects of his training he still found useful. The chime of the Great Hall clock having been silenced after complaints from those who lived immediately above, Septimus now picked up a small silver bell and rang it. The assembled gathering fell silent.

“Thank you for coming to the Moot,” Septimus began. “I am sorry there are not more of us here.” He paused and looked around. Aware that he needed to keep those who had bothered to turn up happy so that at least
they
would come to the next Moot, he continued, “But I see we have a pick of the crop here.”

An appreciative murmur ran through the assembled group.

“And I am sure that with such great skill and
Magykal
talent gathered here this morning, we will find the answer we are looking for.” Septimus smiled. “Since our Moot last week, my Apprentice and I have made some interesting discoveries. Tod, would you like to tell us all your results, please?”

Dandra caught her eye and smiled encouragingly. Tod fumbled with her blue folder and drew out a sheet of neat writing. Willing her hands to stop shaking, she read out the title.

“Conditions necessary to produce a successful human hatching of an Egg of the Great Orm.” She looked up and wished she hadn't. All eyes were upon her. Behind the crowd she saw the tall silver doors from the outside opening and a figure in dark blue-and-gold robes hurrying in. It was Beetle, the Chief Hermetic Scribe. He nodded apologetically at Septimus and stayed quietly at the back. Flustered, Tod looked down at her piece of paper. She really liked Beetle and longed to impress him. Now she was even more anxious.

“I. Er. Um . . .” she floundered, overwhelmed by the expectant silence. It was a sudden sneeze from the Chief Hermetic Scribe that saved her. The noisiest sneeze that Tod had ever heard, it filled the Great Hall and all eyes turned
disapprovingly to its owner. Another three sneezes followed fast upon its heels and Tod was surprised to see the Chief Hermetic Scribe turn a little pink.

“Ah . . . ahh . . .
TCHOO
! I'm sorry,” he said. “Really
terribly
sorry.”

Septimus frowned. “Never mind, Beetle,” he said briskly. “Tod was just going to tell us what she has discovered about the human hatching of an Orm Egg. It's highly interesting and narrows the field tremendously.” He turned to Tod. “Please, do continue.”

Beetle's sneezes had blown away Tod's nerves. Her hands steady, she held the paper still and began to read in a clear voice: “The conditions necessary for a human hatching of an Orm Egg are similar to those for the human hatching of a dragon egg, but there are important differences.

“For a human hatching of an Orm Egg to be successful it must, like that of a dragon egg, mimic the natural sequence of events. Three distinct steps are required. First there is the kick-start, which sets the hatching process in motion. Like the dragon egg, this requires fierce heat for twenty-four hours, but at an even higher temperature. Folklore tells us that a parent Orm would drop its egg into the crater of a volcano.

“The second stage is incubation. In the wild, the parent Orm would retrieve its egg and bury it in warm ash near the volcano. It would then wrap itself around the egg and using the muscles of its coils, would regularly move the egg to and fro, providing a rocking sensation. Like the young dragon, the baby Orm needs to know that a parent is present and awaits its hatching. Without movement the embryo would curdle and die.

“The third stage is hatching. Unlike a dragon egg, an Orm Egg does not need a touch of
Darke
to begin this process. It runs to a strict timetable and a much more rapid one: twelve weeks eggs-actly.” Tod noticed she had raised a few smiles and her confidence grew. “The timespan for the incubation of the Orm Egg is surprisingly short. Because a dragon egg must be incubated for a year and a day we assumed that with a Great Orm being so much larger and slower than a dragon, the incubation period would be longer. But it was just yesterday that we discovered that incubation lasts only twelve weeks.”

A few mutterings spread through the Hall at this surprising information and Tod hurried to finish what she had to say.

“The hatchling Orm will
Imprint
on the first living creature it makes eye contact with. This may be human or animal.
The hatchling is almost identical to a hatchling dragon: it has wings, legs and a tail, and is very active. It can even fly. After twelve weeks in this stage it spins itself a cocoon, from which it will emerge in its adult state of a long, fragile tube with the ability to turn any rock into lapis lazuli. The larval Orm will break out of its cocoon with a sudden explosion. In ancient times, Orm cocoons were nicknamed time bombs.” Tod paused and looked down at her notes. “And, um, that's all I have to say. Thank you very much.” To the background of some concerned murmurs in the Great Hall, Tod put the piece of paper back into her folder. She felt very relieved.

“Thank you, Tod,” Septimus said. “That was extremely interesting.” He picked up a small, battered book from the table and held it aloft to show the Moot. “My Apprentice very generously says that ‘we' discovered this. However, it was entirely her discovery. Tod tracked down this little book in the Pyramid Library—a book that has not seen the light of day for thousands of years, I suspect.” Septimus refrained from adding the reason was because the book,
Orm Fanciers' Factoids
, was wrongly filed in the biography section under Oom: Francis Fa, the author. (Francis Fa Oom had once, briefly, been ExtraOrdinary Wizard.)