The Darke Toad (9 page)

Marcia's mission was made easier by the fact that the four witches did not notice her approach—they were still immersed in their silent argument. This had begun when they had emerged from the Dripping Duck, and Linda had laid claim to Jakey as her personal servant to do with what she wanted. The Witch Mother had disagreed, saying he was for the use of the Coven, but Linda was having none of it—she had gotten the boy first, and the boy was hers.
So there
. The argument had escalated along The Shambles, and as they had rounded the corner into Fore Street it had become a full-blown fight. Veronica had taken Linda's side because she was too scared to do otherwise. Daphne, who now regarded Linda as a mass murderer of woodworms, took the Witch Mother's side. Linda had
Thrown
the first
Silent Spell
at the Witch Mother, who retaliated fast. This was followed by Daphne and Veronica throwing a
Silent
at each other at
exactly
the same time. Now all four witches were
Silent
.

It did not take Marcia long to realize what had happened. A nickname for the
Silent
spell is the “Goldfish,” due to the way those under the spell try to shout ever louder and, goldfish like, open and close their mouths with no sound emerging. And right then the four witches—plus the unfortunate Jakey Fry, who had had a
Silent
put on him the moment Simon had handed him over—looked like an unhappy fish family recently thrown out of their bowl.

At Marcia's appearance a brief glimmer of hope flashed across Jakey's face. Linda leaped into action. Yelling foul
Silent
words, she lunged at Marcia, dragging with her Jakey, who was still in her
Grasp
.

Marcia easily sidestepped the attack. “Now, now, Linda, there is no need to swear,” she said. (Like all Wizards, Marcia could lip-read). “If you behave nicely and take your
Grasp
off this boy I might, possibly,
Reverse
the
Silent
for you.”

We don't need your help, you stupid cow!
Linda's mouth opened and closed
Silently
.
We
'
ve got a much more powerful Wizard than you
.

So there with knobs on!
Veronica yelled
Silently
.

“That would be the powerful Wizard who is hiding in the doorway, too scared to show himself, would it?” Marcia asked coolly.

DomDaniel decided to leave before things got worse. He slunk out of the doorway and headed along Fore Street to look for Simon, who he had sent on ahead to find “a decent horse, Heap, to get us home.”

Marcia watched the departing
Darke
shape with a feeling of relief—Septimus was safe. She turned to Linda and told her, “I'll give you three seconds to take your
Grasp
off the boy. If you do not, I shall
Remove
it. The Wizard code requires me to warn you that a forced
Remove
may lead to some personal damage.”

You pigging purple cow!
Linda yelled
Silently
.

“One second, two seconds, three se—”

Linda dropped her
Grasp
.

Jakey Fry gaped at Marcia in astonishment—
the Wizard woman had rescued him
. Tears of gratitude pricked the inside of his eyelids.
Thank you
, he mouthed, forgetting he was
Silent
.

“You are very welcome,” said Marcia.

Linda gave Marcia a sharp nudge in the ribs.
What about your promise, then?
she asked, pointing to her mouth.

“I promised nothing,” said Marcia.

Yes, you did
,
you lying old bat!
yelled Linda.

Marcia turned her back on the witch and said to Jakey Fry, “Let's get you talking again, shall we?”

Linda positioned herself very close to Marcia, waiting for her to work her way through the
Silent Reverse
.

Marcia finished with, “What's done is done, by all or one, I now set you free.” She threw a small ball of light in the air, it whizzed around Jakey's head, touched him on the mouth and Jakey laughed out loud—it tickled. Quick as a flash, Linda's hand snatched the ball out of the air and touched her own mouth with it. “Got it!” she crowed. “Not as clever as you thought, are you?”

Marcia said nothing. The Witch Mother grabbed the ball from Linda; a fight to be next erupted between Daphne and Veronica, and Marcia hurried Jakey away. As they disappeared around the corner, a barrage of swearing erupted behind them.

Septimus was waiting anxiously. At the sight of Marcia with Jakey he broke into a broad grin. “Hey, are you okay?” he asked Jakey.

“Yeah,” Jakey muttered. And then, in case the Wizard woman decided to take him prisoner for herself, he took off along The Shambles at top speed.

Marcia and Septimus watched the spindly figure of Jakey Fry hurtle away from them. They saw him skid to a halt outside one of the more decrepit lodging houses, throw himself against the front door and disappear inside.

Jakey raced up to the room he called home to find—to his relief—that his father was not there. From the window he watched his purple rescuer and the boy who had asked if he was okay coming along the street. As they passed under his window the Wizard woman looked up and smiled at him—and suddenly Jakey realized who she was. A smile spread over his face. He couldn't be as rubbish as his father kept telling him he was. He must be worth something if the
ExtraOrdinary Wizard
from the Castle had bothered to set him—Jakey Fry, lowly ship's rat—free.

H
eading for home, the witches
hurried along Fore Street and caught up with DomDaniel and the
Darke
Toad.

“Give me the
Darke
Toad and then push off, you old bag of bones,” the Witch Mother said to DomDaniel.

DomDaniel and the other witches looked shocked. The Witch Mother looked horrified. “Did I just say that?” she asked.

“Yes, you smelly old haddock, you did,” said the normally timid Daphne.

“Daphne!” said Linda. “You took the words right out of my mouth.”

“And mine,” said Veronica. She laughed. “Witch Mother, you look like a cracked old teacup with that stupid white stuff on your face.”

“Or the fungus under the sink.” Daphne giggled.

The witches stared at one another in horror—they were all saying exactly what they were thinking.

The sound of hooves clip-clopping toward them heralded Simon's return. He was leading a big, beautiful black horse, which he had found in a tiny, filthy and unlocked stable. Simon, who still had some scruples, had left a crown (the standard price for a horse) plus a silver sixpence for the saddle and bridle.

DomDaniel looked at the horse approvingly. “Very nice,” he said. “Time to go. I'll take the horse, Heap. You'll be walking.”

“Not for long, you slimy old basket.” The Witch Mother laughed.

“What did you say?” demanded DomDaniel.

“You heard,” snapped the Witch Mother. “Hand over the
Darke
Toad, you weasel-eyed stoat face.”

DomDaniel was used to the Witch Mother being rude to him. It had once been something he had liked about her, but now he thought she was going a bit far. “I have not forgotten that the
Darke
Toad was part of our bargain, Pamela,” he said stiffly. He bent down very slowly—he hated the way he could feel skin and fat slipping over his bones—and picked up the toad.

The Witch Mother looked longingly at the
Darke
Toad as it sat gulping and blinking on DomDaniel's very squishy palm.

“Give it to me,” she said. “
Hurry up!
”

DomDaniel frowned—he would have liked to refuse but a
Darke
bargain must be kept. Grumpily, he dropped the toad into the Witch Mother's outstretched hand.

“Say the words,” snapped the Witch Mother.

“Say the words,
please
,” DomDaniel said peevishly.

“Oh, get on with it, fatso,” snapped the Witch Mother.

DomDaniel looked very annoyed. If he hadn't suddenly felt unpleasantly itchy he would have said something equally rude in return. But all he wanted to do was get away from the witches and have a good scratch. “Madam, I assign to you all rights to this
Darke
Toad. May its
Darkenesse
follow you for all your days. So be it.
Ooof
.” DomDaniel could stand it no longer. He found a particularly itchy spot on his stomach and gave it a surreptitious scratch.

The Witch Mother cradled the
Darke
Toad in her hands. “Toady-woady,” she cooed.

“I'll be off now,” said DomDaniel. He felt as though his skin were crawling with ants.

“Good riddance, you smelly old slime bucket,” returned the Witch Mother. “Come on, girls. Home. Oh, and Daphne, give Heap the wheelbarrow.”

“Why?” asked Daphne.

“Because those
Clothed Bones
won't last much longer. Ha ha!”

DomDaniel could bear the itching no more. “What”—
scratch
—“do you”—
scratch
-
scritch
-
scratch—
“mean?”

The Witch Mother laughed. “You vain old lump of gristle, don't you realize? We're rubbish at stuff like that. There's no way we could make a spell that powerful
permanent
, not even with Cowan blood. In fact, I am amazed it has lasted as long as it has. Ha!” She poked DomDaniel in the chest and her finger sank deep into his robe. “Eurgh, that is
not
nice.”

DomDaniel stared down at the hole in his chest. He looked up at the Witch Mother in shock as, like a crumpling balloon, his cloak caved in and the remains of the witches'
Clothing Bones
spell evaporated. DomDaniel emitted a long, low groan, his legs folded out from under him and he collapsed into a heap on the road.

“You tricked me!” his—still
Clothed
—head screamed.

“Yes, we did. Serves you right, you smarmy little snake,” said the Witch Mother.

Linda was astonished. “You tell him, Witch Mother. I must say, I'm impressed. You're not as utterly pathetic as you look.”

The Witch Mother pointedly ignored Linda. She turned to Veronica and Daphne and said, “Unlike Linda. Who
is
as completely vile as she looks.”

Daphne and Veronica laughed with delight. “Yeah. Vile!” they chorused.

Linda was speechless with fury.

The Witch Mother chuckled—she was back in control of her Coven. She held up the
Darke
Toad and smiled. A lump of white makeup fell onto DomDaniel's head, once more atop a pile of bones. The Witch Mother stared down at the head. “No one will mess with us now,” she said. “Not even
you
.”

DomDaniel hurled the worst
Darke
swear words possible at the departing Coven, but they took no notice as they followed the Witch Mother up the street, a line of mismatched chicks trailing after their mother hen.

With gritted teeth Simon picked up the bones and put them into the wheelbarrow, carefully balancing the head on top while DomDaniel swore at him. Simon patted the horse's nose and wondered whether he should let him go. He decided to leave the decision to the horse.

“Thunder,” he whispered—for that had been the name scrawled over the stable door—“you can follow me if you want to. It's a long way, but I'll look after you, I promise.” The horse pawed at the ground and sniffed the early morning air. The sun would soon rise, and he wanted to be off and away from the dark and cramped stable.

As the night sky began to lighten, Fore Street echoed to the
clip-clop
,
clip-clop
of Thunder's hooves and the plaintive
eek-eek
,
eek-eek
of a squeaky wheel as Simon pushed the wheelbarrow and its contents along the pavement. At the end of Fore Street the wheel fell off the barrow and DomDaniel's head rolled onto the street. “Put me on the horse, you dithering idiot,” it snarled.

Simon had had enough insults for the night. “All right,” he said. “I
will
.” In one seamless, angry movement, he threw off his cloak, caught the head and the
UnClothed
bones up into it, bundled them up into a ball and slung it onto the horse. Then he swung himself into the saddle and rode off toward the dawn, heading along the track that wound through the dunes and would take him across the Sheeplands, up into the Badlands and back to the dark, dank Observatory.