"Me?" Septimus went up to the counter.
The clerk at the RECEIVE counter, a former sea captain with a bushy white beard, was a distinct improvement on the clerk at the SEND counter. He smiled. "You are Septimus Heap, aren't you?"
Septimus nodded, puzzled. "Yes, but I'm not expecting any messages."
"Well, ain't it your lucky day, then?" said the clerk, and handed Septimus a small envelope with his name printed on it in the distinctive Pigeon Post type. "Sign 'ere please," said the clerk, and pushed a piece of paper across to Septimus. Somewhat self-consciously, Septimus signed his name and pushed the paper back to the clerk, who made no comment.
"Thank you," said Septimus.
"You're welcome," said the clerk with a smile. "We're open until midnight if you want to send a reply. Next please."
Septimus and Beetle stopped under a lantern a safe distance away from the Pigeon Post Office. After glancing up to check that there were no pigeons roosting above, Septimus opened the envelope, which was stamped in red with the words PPO NON
STANDARD MESSAGE SAFETY ENVELOPE. He drew out a scrappy piece of paper and, as he read, a look of bafflement spread across his face.
"What does it say?" asked Beetle.
"I don't understand...it's a recipe for cabbage soup."
"Turn it over," said Beetle. "There's writing on the other side."
"Oh. Oh...it's from Aunt Zelda. But how does she know..."
"What does she say?"
"'Dear Septimus, enclosed are the instructions for your SafeCharm. I forgot to give them to Barney Pot. Do not hesitate to use it if you need to. It will be loyal and true. Best love, Aunt Zelda xxx.' Oh bother. Bother, bother, bother."
"Bother what, Sep?" asked Beetle.
"The SafeCharm. A little kid called Barney Pot tried to give it to me, but I wouldn't take it. There was no way I was going to take a so-called SafeCharm from a stranger, not after taking the Questing Stone by mistake from someone I thought I actually knew."
"But it wasn't from a stranger, it was from Aunt Zelda," Beetle observed irritatingly.
"I know that now, Beetle," Septimus snapped. "But I didn't know that then. Barney didn't say it was from Aunt Zelda; he just said it was from a lady. Could have been anyone."
"Oh. Well, I'm sure it doesn't matter, Sep. I don't see that you'll need it."
"Yeah, I s'pose...but Aunt Zelda obviously thought I did need it. Dunno why."
Beetle was silent as they negotiated their way back to the Cerys. As they neared the tall ship, which was now ablaze with lanterns, he said, "So what exactly are these instructions, Sep?"
Septimus shrugged. "What does it matter? I haven't got the SafeCharm anyway."
Beetle - who was fascinated by Charms of all descriptions and had hoped one day to be the Charm Specialist at the Manuscriptorium - thought it did matter. At his insistence, Septimus unfolded another piece of paper covered in Aunt Zelda's most careful writing - the kind that she had used for Wolf Boy's instructions. As Septimus read it his expression changed to one of amazement.
"What does it say, Sep?" asked Beetle impatiently.
"Oh, crumbs...it says, 'Septimus, use this well and it will be your loyal servant for evermore. Instructions as follows:
1. Unseal bottle in well-ventilated area, preferably large open space. 2. If unsealing outside, ensure area is sheltered from the wind. 3. Once jinnee is out of - '"
"Jinnee - ohmygoodness!" gasped Beetle. "She's gone and sent you a live SafeCharm. I don't believe it."
Septimus was silent. He read the rest of the instructions to himself with a horrible feeling of regret.
"A jinnee - I can't believe you turned that down," Beetle was saying. "Oh, wow, what an opportunity."
"Well, it's too late now," snapped Septimus. He refolded the instructions and put them carefully into his Apprentice belt.
Beetle carried on regardless. "I've always thought how brilliant it would be to have a jinnee at your beck and call," he said. "And no one has them anymore, Sep, they are so incredibly rare. Most of 'em have been let out and no one knows how to put 'em back in nowadays - except other jinn, of course, and they're not saying. Phew...fancy passing up a chance for that."
Septimus had had enough. He turned on Beetle. "Look, just shut up about it, will you, Beetle? Okay, I didn't take it and, okay, maybe that was stupid, but I didn't and that is the end of it."
"Hey, calm down, Sep. I never said it was stupid. But look...maybe..."
"Maybe what?"
"Maybe you should send Aunt Zelda a message to say you never got it. She ought to get it back from Barney as soon as she can. I mean, supposing he opens it?" Septimus shrugged irritably.
"It's important, Sep," Beetle persisted. "If Aunt Zelda meant it for you, she would have Awakened it by telling it a whole load of stuff about you - all about your family, about how you look, how wonderful you are and how the jinnee would be privileged to serve you for the rest of its days blah blah blah. I've seen a written copy of an Awakening and it's like a real legal contract, and if the other half of the contract isn't there then the jinnee will consider itself Released. So if this kid Barney Pot gets curious and lets the jinnee out, there's going to be big trouble. The jinnee will be free to cause havoc - and you can bet it will, too. The only person who can have any hope of controlling it is the one who Awakened it."
"Aunt Zelda," said Septimus.
"Yep. You have to tell her, Sep."
Septimus and Beetle had reached the Cerys. The immaculately uniformed sailor bowed as Septimus stepped onto the gangplank. The sailor bowed once more as he stepped straight off.
"Okay." Septimus sighed. "You're right. We'll go send a message. And if that clerk tries to be funny again I shall - "
Beetle put his arm in Septimus's. "Yeah," he said. "I shall too."
Chapter 17 The Chest
W hile Septimus and Beetle were running the pigeon gauntlet once more, Jenna was perched not unlike a pigeon herself. She was sitting, confidently swinging her feet, on the lowest yardarm of the fore mast while she watched the loading of Milo's long-awaited cargo. Suspended from the arm of a gantry, a massive, battered ebony chest bound with iron bands was swinging and twisting as it made its slow descent into the cargo hold. Milo Banda stood at the edge of the hold, arms folded, the sun catching the gold edging on his long red tunic. His dark curly hair fell to his shoulders and was held in place by yet more gold - a broad headband that Milo thought gave him authority (it certainly gave him red marks on his forehead when he took it off at night). Right then, Milo Banda looked like a man who had succeeded and was proud of it. Far below Milo's sandaled feet, the cargo hold opened into the depths of the Cerys. It was lit by six torches dipped in tar, each one carried by an anxious deckhand guiding the precious chest into place. The hold itself was no more than half full. It contained the usual mixture of strange objects destined for the Palace and some things that Milo intended to sell in the Port - bales of woolen cloth, a selection of pearl necklaces from the Islands of the Shallow Seas, a stack of reindeer skins from the Lands of the Long Nights and ten crates containing assorted dishware, boots, cotton tunics and mousetraps procured at knock-down prices from one of the shadier Trading Post midnight auctions. For Sarah Heap there was a case of silver goblets, which Milo thought would be a great improvement on the rough pottery ones that she insisted on using. There were also the objects intended to liven up (as Milo put it) the Long Walk. Among these were a pair of painted statues that he had bought at a good price from some Traders from the Lands of the Singing Sands - accompanied by the usual ghastly ornate tourist jars of so-called singing sand, which had a habit of remaining silent once bottled. There was also a collection of bizarre pictures made from seashells and a family of stuffed giant sea snakes, which Milo (overly optimistically, as it turned out) envisaged hanging from the Long Walk ceiling.
Milo was pleased with these acquisitions, but they were not the reason the Cerys had sat in her prime berth in Harbor Twelve for so many expensive weeks. The reason for that was now being very carefully lowered past Milo's watchful gaze and disappearing into the torchlit depths. Milo smiled as, guided by the deckhands, the chest settled into its allotted place, fitting perfectly.