Beetle shook his head. “No, you first.”

Marcia held the Glass close to the writing and peered intently. She tutted to herself as she read, then handed the Glass to Beetle. When he had finished reading, she said, “What did you think it said?”

“Julius FYI, M. Is that what you thought?”

“It is. Who was Julius Fyi, I wonder? Unusual name.”

“It’s not a name,” said Beetle. “It’s an old-fashioned abbreviation: For Your Information. No one uses it anymore.”

“I see. So, how old do you think this paper is, Ephaniah?” asked Marcia.

Ephaniah flicked through his number cards and placed “475” in front of Marcia.

“Days? Weeks? Months?”

Ephaniah flipped a card from his calendar box: YEARS.

“Aha! Now that makes sense,” said Marcia.

“Is does?” asked Beetle.

“Well, not all of it. But Julius must be Julius Pike, who was ExtraOrdinary Wizard at that time. And I’d bet the Wizard Tower to a wine gum that I know who the M is.”

“Marcellus?” offered Beetle.

“Indeed. Our very own newly reinstated Castle Alchemist. Beetle, he has to have something to do with these puddles.” Marcia turned to Ephaniah, who was rifling through his cards. “Thank you so much, Ephaniah,” she said.

Ephaniah’s eyes wrinkled with a smile. He placed a grubby card in front of her. IT HAS BEEN MY PLEASURE.

Beetle and Marcia headed back up to the Manuscriptorium. They walked through the empty room, its tall desks like dark sentries as the night candles burned down. Beetle pulled open the flimsy door that led into the Front Office; the moonlight from the snowy Way outside shone in, sending sharp shadows across the boxes of papers and reconditioned Charms waiting for collection in the morning. Beetle followed Marcia through the pattern of light and dark and as she reached the main door she stopped and said:

“I shall call Marcellus up to the Wizard Tower first thing tomorrow. I shall require an explanation.”

Beetle was not sure. “I think we should wait for a while and see what happens. I don’t expect Marcellus will admit to anything.”

Marcia sighed. “No, I don’t suppose he will.”

Beetle risked a joke. “No one likes to be accused of making puddles everywhere.”

To Beetle’s surprise, Marcia giggled. “Especially not when you have made a map of where they all are.” She pulled open the door and stepped out into the snow. “I will allow Septimus to begin his month with Marcellus tomorrow—that way I can keep a close eye on what that man is up to. We will keep this under review. Let me know if any more puddles appear. Thank you, Beetle.”

With that, Marcia closed the door and Beetle heard the sound of her pointy python shoes crunching away through the snow. They sounded kind of lonely, he thought.

4

MIGRATION

Number One, Snake Slipway.

From the desk of Marcellus Pye, Castle Alchemist.

Dear Marcia,

Work has now begun on the Great Chimney and I suggest that, with a view to DeNaturing the Two-Faced Ring as soon as possible, we consider opening the Great Chamber of Alchemie and Physik. Of course, the Fyre cannot be started until the chimney is reinstated, but the sooner we get going on the work belowground, the better. To this end I would request that my Apprentice Septimus commence his month working with me as soon as possible is convenient.

Yours,

Marcellus

Marcia read the letter while she drank her second cup of breakfast coffee. She handed it to Septimus, who was finishing his porridge. “Well,” she said, “how about going to Marcellus today?”

Septimus had been looking forward to the break in routine. He was doing the advanced analytical DeCyphering module of his course and was finding it very tedious. “Might as well,” he said, not wishing to appear too eager and hurt Marcia’s feelings.

“Off you go and pack, then,” Marcia said briskly.

“Okeydokey.”

Marcia watched Septimus jump up from his chair and scoot out of the kitchen. She was not looking forward to the next four weeks without him.

Up in his room, Septimus was having trouble closing his backpack.

“Toothbrush?”

He looked up and saw Marcia’s head peering around the doorway. “Yes,” he grunted. “And my comb. Just like you said.”

Marcia’s gaze wandered around Septimus’s room. It was not big—Apprentices’ rooms in the Wizard Tower were always small—but it was, she was pleased to see, well organized and businesslike. The shelves were stacked with labeled boxes and papers from Septimus’s various Magykal projects and assignments; they also boasted a line of small lapis pots (a MidWinter Feast gift from her), which contained his slowly growing collection of Charms and Talismans. There was a large, shiny black desk under the window with six legs, which Septimus called “the insect,” on which were perched a pot of pens and stack of unused paper. Marcia avoided looking at the desk; with its spindly, hairy legs and its shiny, flat black top it put her in mind of a giant cockroach. Instead she glanced up at the dark blue ceiling with the constellations that Septimus had painted when he first arrived. The silver stars were still bright and they shone in the sunlight that was pouring through the window.