Fyre Page 93


Simon smiled ruefully. “You can’t know for sure. Not until you have walked the same road in the same shoes.”

“But my feet are different from his,” said Septimus.

“They are now. But baby feet are soft. You have to take care they don’t get squashed.” Simon grinned at Septimus. “Well, that’s what Lucy says, anyway.”

The alleyway narrowed and Septimus dropped back. They hurried, single file, through Fat Man’s Crush and Weasel Slip Slide and soon emerged onto the deserted harbor front.

“Ready to go?” Septimus asked Simon.

Simon nodded.

Septimus decided to give Jim Knee the choice of bird to Transform to—the jinnee had done well. “Time to go, Jim Knee. I’ll see you at the Castle—at the Port barge landing stage. We have someone to meet. Transform!”

There was a flash of yellow light, a small pop, and an albatross stood at Septimus’s feet. Septimus heard a sharp intake of breath from Simon.

“Oh, no.”

“It’s okay. I said he could be what he liked.”

“Not the stupid albatross. Over there. Look!”

Heart in mouth, Septimus looked up, expecting to see two wild Heap uncles heading their way. But hurrying out of the shadows came a very different Heap.

“It can’t be,” said Septimus.

“It is. It’s Jenna.”

30

PORT PALACE

“Oh, Sep. It is so good to see you!” Jenna threw herself at Septimus and hugged him hard. “And you too, Simon.”

“What are you doing here, Jen?” Septimus whispered.

“You would not believe it, Sep. You just would not. She is totally, utterly impossible.”

“Who is?”

“The Queen—my mother. She is a complete control freak. Mum never, ever behaved like that.”

Septimus recognized the expression in Jenna’s eyes. “You mean you had a fight with the Queen?”

“You bet I did,” said Jenna.

“Wow.”

“I stuck it out for forever, Sep, until I couldn’t stand it a moment longer. I just had to come home.”

“You walked out?” Septimus was amazed.

“Yep. But I was so mad that I didn’t look where I was going and I ended up here. There’s a kind of crossroads in the Queen’s Way, I think.” Jenna grinned at Septimus. “And now I’m really glad I did.” She stood back and pushed her hair out of her eyes.

Jenna began to notice how oddly her brothers were behaving. They were standing really close to her—like a couple of guards—but neither of them was looking at her. Instead they were gazing around the empty harbor front like they were expecting someone else to arrive at any moment.

“Hey, you don’t look very pleased to see me,” Jenna said.

“We’re not,” said Simon tersely.

“Well, thank you, Simon Heap. Thank you so much.”

“He didn’t mean it like that, Jen,” Septimus whispered.

“Well how did he mean it, then?”

“There’s no time for this,” said Simon, also whispering. “Right now we need to get somewhere safe.”

Jenna was beginning to feel scared. She glanced around and thought for the first time how scary an empty harborside can be. “Why, aren’t we safe here?”

“No.”

“I guess it is creepy here. Anyway, I’m off. I’ve stayed here too long as it is—I really must get back and see Mum. I’m going to get the late Barge to the Castle.”

“You’ve missed it,” said Septimus.

A gust of wind whipped across the open harbor front, sending the ships rigging zinging, and a rumble of thunder drifted in from the ocean beyond. Jenna shivered. In her time away she had become accustomed to the heat. Suddenly she felt tired, cold and frightened. “Well, I suppose we can go back to the Port Palace,” she said reluctantly.

“Where’s that?” asked Simon, who knew the Port well, but had never seen or heard of a Palace.

Jenna pointed over to the Customs House, a tall building on the edge of the harbor front where Simon had, until recently, lived in one of the attic rooms. “There’s an alleyway down there.”

“No, there isn’t,” said Simon.

“Yes, there is,” said Jenna. “But you don’t see it—unless you’re with me. So, do you want to go there or not?”

A flash of something by the side of The Harbor and Dock Pie Shop caught Septimus’s eye. “Yes, we do. Right now,” he said, accompanied by the bang of Maureen’s broom as she chased out two rats she had found sleeping in the warmth beneath the pie ovens.

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