Jenna stood up angrily. “But this is what I said.”

Marcia adopted a soothing tone that really annoyed Jenna. “Jenna, you were incredibly brave. It cannot have been easy to remember—”

“There is no need to patronize me as well as disbelieve me, Marcia. Excuse me, everyone.” With that Jenna walked out of the library. They heard her rapid, angry footsteps clattering down the stone steps.

“Someone go after her, please,” said Marcia wearily. “Thank you, Beetle.”

Those left fell silent. Septimus was thinking. “Maybe,” he said, “there is more than one improbable truth. You see, when I spoke to Hotep-Ra—”

“When you what?” Julius Pike interrupted.

“Spoke to Hotep-Ra,” Septimus repeated.

The ghost gazed at him openmouthed.

From his pocket Septimus took a large blue-black pebble with a slight iridescent sheen to it. It nestled in his palm, showing a brilliant gold “Q” set into the stone. He put it on the desk in front of the ghost. “I went on the Queste.”

Julius Pike went virtually transparent. “The Queste?” he whispered.

“Yes.”

“And you returned?”

Septimus could not resist. He grinned. “Here I am, so I guess I must have.”

“Septimus . . .” warned Marcia.

Julius Pike looked stunned. “You came back. Unlike two of my Apprentices. Oh, my poor, dear Syrah. . . .”

Marcia held her hand up to stop Septimus. She knew what he was going to tell Julius. “This is not the time,” she said.

“So you met the ghost of Hotep-Ra on the Queste?” asked Julius.

“No. I met Hotep-Ra himself.”

“But . . . how?”

“It’s a long story,” said Septimus. “I’ll write it down one day.” He turned to Marcia. “One of the things Hotep-Ra asked me about was damage to his Templates. He was afraid they might have been degraded by the Darke stuff that DomDaniel brought to the Tower—degraded just enough so that they still looked okay, but they no longer worked. Of course I didn’t know anything about them at the time. But I think this is what must have happened.”

“Well, that is an explanation,” Marcia conceded. “If the Template is changed, then all other forms change with it at the very same time—including the spoken form. Which was why Jenna’s was identical.” She sighed. “So it’s hopeless. The Committal is lost forever. Septimus, where are you going?”

Septimus was already halfway out of the door. “I’m going to see Hotep-Ra,” he said.

Marcia leaped to her feet. “Don’t be ridiculous!”

“I’m not being ridiculous. I’m going to ask him what the Committal is. He must know.”

“Septimus, I will not allow you to go back to that ghastly House of Foryx. You’ll never come out again.”

“My Questing Stone gives me safe passage,” he said. “I can go into the House of Foryx and always come out in my own Time. Always.”

Marcia sighed. She thought of the alternative: of the Darke Wizards roaming the Castle unhindered, of the never-ending danger to Jenna—to everyone—and she knew she had no choice but to agree. “So . . . how do you propose to get there?”

There was only one way that made sense right then. “By Dragon Boat.”

Septimus found Jenna and Beetle down in the Great Hall of the Wizard Tower. Beetle was trying to persuade Jenna to come back upstairs, with little effect.

“Jen,” said Septimus. “I’m going to get the original Committal and I’d like you to come with me.”

“You bet,” said Jenna. “Anything to get out of here.”

The door of the duty Wizard’s cupboard opened a fraction and Milo’s head appeared. “Jenna,” he whispered. “I thought I heard you. I hope you’re not going outside.”

“Milo! What are you doing here?” said Jenna.

Milo sighed. He had been stuck in the cupboard ever since the Barricade had come down. “I do sometimes wonder,” he said. “Jenna, please, you must stay here. You are in great danger.”

“Jenna will be okay,” said Septimus. “We’re leaving the Castle at once.”

“Very sensible. I will escort you.”

Jenna was about to protest, but Septimus stepped in. “Thank you,” he said. “We’re going to Jannit’s boatyard.”

Milo took a serious-looking dagger from a small scabbard at his waist. Its shiny steel glinted purple, reflecting the lights flickering across the floor. “They won’t get past me,” he said. “Oh. Bother.”