“But you had to do it, Uncle Alther. Didn’t you?” said Jenna.
“Yes, I did,” said Alther quietly. “And we will have to do it again.”
“We shall do it tonight,” declared Marcia. “I shall go right back and throw that evil man out of the Tower. He’ll soon learn that he doesn’t mess with the ExtraOrdinaryWizard.” She got up purposefully and wrapped her purple cloak around her, ready to go.
Alther leapt into the air and put a ghostly hand on Marcia’s arm. “No. No, Marcia.”
“But, Alther—” Marcia protested.
“Marcia, there are no Wizards left to protect you at the Tower, and I hear you gave your KeepSafe to Sally Mullin. I beg you not to go back. It is too dangerous. You must get the Princess to safety. And keep her safe. I shall go back to the Castle and do what I can.”
Marcia sank back down onto the wet sand. She knew Alther was right. The last flames of the fire spluttered out as large wet flakes of snow began to fall and darkness closed in on them. Alther put his ghostly fishing rod down on the sand and floated above the Deppen Ditch. He gazed across the marshlands that stretched far into the distance. They were a peaceful sight in the moonlight, broad wetlands dusted with snow and dotted with little islands here and there as far as he could see.
“Canoes,” said Alther, floating back down. “When I was a boy that’s how the marsh folk got around. And that’s what you’re going to need too.”
“You can do that, Silas,” said Marcia dismally. “I’m far too tired to go messing about with boats.”
Silas got to his feet. “Come on then, Nicko,” he said. “We’ll go and Transmute Muriel into some canoes.”
Muriel was still floating patiently in Deppen Ditch, just around the bend, out of sight of the river. Nicko felt sad to see their faithful boat go but he knew the Rules of Magyk, and so he knew only too well that in a spell, matter can neither be created nor destroyed. Muriel would not really be gone but, Nicko hoped, rearranged into a set of smart canoes.
“Can I have a fast one, Dad?” asked Nicko as Silas stared at Muriel and tried to think of a suitable spell.
“I don’t know about ‘fast,’ Nicko. I shall just be happy if it floats. Now, let me think. I suppose one canoe each would be good. Here goes. Convert to Five! Oh, bother.”
Five very small Muriels bobbed up and down in front of them.
“Dad,” complained Nicko, “you’re not doing it right.”
“Wait a minute, Nicko. I’m thinking. That’s it—Canoe Renew!”
“Dad!”
One enormous canoe sat wedged into the banks of the Ditch.
“Now, let’s be logical about this,” Silas muttered to himself.
“Why don’t you just ask for five canoes, Dad?” suggested Nicko.
“Good idea, Nicko. We’ll make a Wizard of you yet. I Choose Canoes for Five to Use!”
The spell fizzled out before it really got going, and Silas ended up with just two canoes and a forlorn pile of Muriel-colored timbers and rope.
“Only two, Dad?” said Nicko, disappointed not to be getting his own canoe.
“They’ll have to do,” said Silas. “You can’t change matter more than three times without it getting fragile.”
In fact, Silas was just pleased that he had ended up with any canoes at all.
Soon Jenna, Nicko and Boy 412 were sitting in what Nicko had named the Muriel One canoe, and Silas and Marcia were squashed together in the Muriel Two. Silas insisted on sitting in the front because, “I know the way, Marcia. It makes sense.”
Marcia snorted dubiously, but she was far too tired to fuss.
“Go on, Maxie,” Silas told the wolfhound. “Go and sit with Nicko.”
But Maxie had other ideas. Maxie’s purpose in life was to stay by his master, and stay by his master he would. He bounded onto Silas’s lap, and the canoe tilted dangerously.
“Can’t you control that animal?” demanded Marcia, who was dismayed to find herself horribly close to the water again.
“Of course I can. He does exactly what I tell him, don’t you, Maxie?”
Nicko made a spluttering sound.
“Go sit at the back, Maxie,” Silas told the wolfhound sternly. Looking crestfallen, Maxie bounded over Marcia to the back of the canoe and settled himself down behind her.
“He’s not sitting behind me,” said Marcia.
“Well he can’t sit by me. I have to concentrate on where we’re going,” Silas told her.
“And it’s high time you were going too,” said Alther, hovering anxiously. “Before the snow really sets in. I just wish I could come with you.”
Alther floated up and watched them set off, paddling along the Deppen Ditch, which was now slowly filling as the tide came back in and would take them deep into the Marram Marshes. Jenna, Nicko and Boy 412’s canoe led the way, with Silas, Marcia and Maxie following them.
Maxie sat bolt upright behind Marcia and breathed excited dog breath onto the back of her neck. He sniffed the new, damp marshland smells and listened to the scrabbling sounds made by assorted small animals as they scuttled out of the way of the canoes. Every now and then his excitement overwhelmed him, and he dribbled happily into Marcia’s hair.
Soon Jenna reached a narrow channel running off the Ditch. She stopped.
“Do we go down here, Dad?” she called back to Silas.
Silas looked confused. He didn’t remember this bit at all. Just as he was wondering whether to say yes or no, his thoughts were interrupted by a piercing shriek from Jenna.
A slimy mud-brown hand with webbed fingers and broad black claws had reached out of the water and grabbed the end of her canoe.
16
THE BOGGART
The slimy brown hand fumbled along the side of the canoe, making its way toward Jenna. Then it grabbed hold of her paddle. Jenna wrested the paddle away and was about to hit the slimy brown thing with it—hard—when a voice said, “Oi. No need fer that.”
A seallike creature covered in slippery brown fur pulled itself up so that its head was just out of the water. Two bright black-button eyes stared at Jenna, who had her paddle still poised in midair.
“Wish you’d put that down. Could hurt someone. So where you bin, then?” the creature asked grumpily in a deep, gurgling voice with a broad marshland drawl. “I bin waitin’ for hours. Freezin’ in here. How’d you like it? Stuck in a ditch. Just waitin’.”
All Jenna could manage in reply was a small squeak; her voice seemed to have stopped working.
“What is it, Jen?” asked Nicko, who was sitting behind Boy 412, just to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid, and couldn’t see the creature.
“Th—this…” Jenna pointed at the creature, who looked offended.
“What you mean this?” he asked. “You mean me? You mean Boggart?”
“Boggart? No. I didn’t say that,” muttered Jenna.
“Well I did. Boggart. That’s me. I’m Boggart. Boggart, the Boggart. Good name, innit?”
“Lovely,” said Jenna politely.
“What’s going on?” asked Silas, catching up with them. “Stoppit, Maxie. Stoppit I say!”
Maxie had caught sight of the Boggart and was barking frantically. The Boggart took one look at Maxie and disappeared back under the water. Since the notorious Boggart Hunts many years ago in which Maxie’s ancestors had taken part so effectively, the Marram Marsh Boggart had become a rare creature. With a long memory.
The Boggart reappeared at a safe distance. “You’re not bringin’ that?” he said, looking balefully at Maxie. “She didunt say nothin’ ’bout one a them.”
“Do I hear a Boggart?” asked Silas.
“Yeah,” said the Boggart.
“Zelda’s Boggart?”
“Yeah,” said the Boggart.
“Has she sent you to find us?”
“Yeah,” said the Boggart.
“Good,” said Silas, very relieved. “We’ll follow you, then.”
“Yeah,” said the Boggart, and he swam off along Deppen Ditch and took the next turning but one.
The next turning but one was much narrower than the Deppen Ditch and wound its snakelike way deep into the moonlit, snow-covered marshes. The snow fell steadily and all was quiet and still, apart from the gurgles and splashes of the Boggart as he swam in front of the canoes, every now and then sticking his head out of the dark water and calling out, “You followin’?”