That night found Jenna and Septimus sitting together on what was once again their beach, a little way from a talkative group gathered around a blazing fire. At Jenna's insistence, Septimus had just finished telling her all that had happened.
"You know, Sep," said Jenna, "if being Queen means always having to watch everyone else do stuff, I don't think I want to be one. You and Beetle get to do exciting things with jinn and Ice Tunnels and sleds while I have to sit and politely listen to Milo drone on and on. Nicko and Snorri weren't much better - all they talk about is boats."
"The Ice Tunnels weren't that great," said Septimus. "Believe me." He looked up and saw a banana-like figure emerge from the sand dunes. "Oh, at last - there's Jim Knee. Excuse me, Jen. I have to talk to him."
"Oh, go on then, Sep. I know you have important things to do," said Jenna.
"You can come too, Jen. Actually, he can come to us. Jim Knee!"
Jim Knee wandered over, his doughnut hat swaying as he walked. "You called, Oh Sedentary One?"
"Did you do it?" Septimus asked anxiously.
"It was a battle," he said, "but I won." The jinnee smiled. Life with his Master was not turning out to be as tedious as he had feared. "We go back a long way, the Syren and I. I was due a little victory."
Septimus had a sudden attack of goose bumps. He realized that he was talking to a very ancient being. "Thank you, Jim Knee," he said. "Thank you. You are...incredible."
Jim Knee bowed. "I know," he said, and handed Septimus the small silver phial that Syrah had given him for Spit Fyre. It was ice-cold.
Gingerly, Septimus took the phial between finger and thumb and held it at arm's length. "Is it Sealed?" he asked.
"Indeed it is, Oh Cautious One. Will that be all? I could do with that nap now. It has been a bit of a day."
"No, that will not be all," said Septimus, reminding himself that, however grateful he was, to his jinnee he must appear to be tough and not - as Beetle had recently reminded him - a pushover.
"What else do you wish, Oh Taxing One?"
"Three things, actually."
"Three, Oh Insatiable One? You do realize that three is the maximum number of wishes that may be commanded at any one time?"
Septimus didn't, but he was not going to admit it. "Three. Number one, I command you to stop calling me silly names."
Jim Knee sighed. "Oh, well, it was fun while it lasted. Your wish is my command, Oh Great One - I may call you that, may I not? It is standard jinnee practice. Unless you prefer something else, of course."
"I think," said Septimus, considering the matter, "I would prefer Apprentice. That is what I am."
"Not Senior Apprentice, Sep?" Jenna teased.
"Can you imagine what he'd make that sound like, Jen? No, Apprentice is just fine."
Jim Knee sounded resigned. "Very well, Oh Apprentice."
"I said Apprentice, not Oh Apprentice."
"Very well, Apprentice."
"Number two, I command you to go, as fast as you can, to the far end of the Frozen warrior jinn. I wish to know if they reached the Castle. If they have reached the Castle, you are to inform the ExtraOrdinary Wizard what has happened."
Normally the jinnee would have protested that this was in fact two wishes, but he felt he was on soft ground. He had not entirely honored the agreement that had released him from the Sealed cell. "The ExtraOrdinary Wizard, Oh G - Apprentice?"
"Yes. You will find her at the Wizard Tower. Tell her I sent you."
Jim Knee looked uncomfortable. "Ah," he said, "that reminds me. She asked me to find you and get some kind of Keye...to, um, Seal some tunnels? Quite went out of my head with all the excitement. I'll do that now, shall I?"
Septimus could hardly believe what he had just heard. "Marcia asked you to Seal the tunnel? But I don't understand - how did she know? And how on earth did you meet Marcia?"
Jim Knee looked shifty. "Just bumped into her," he said. "I'll go now, shall I?"
"I haven't finished. My third wish is that you return all the jinn to their tubes."
Jim Knee sighed. It was what he had expected, but that didn't make it any easier. Never since he had been a slave in the stables of King Augeas had the jinnee faced such a Herculean task - except this time he doubted Hercules would turn up to help.
"Your wish is my command, Apprentice," said Jim Knee, bowing low. The doughnut hat fell off, he snatched it up, crammed it back on and, mustering his dignity, walked off. Jim Knee made his way to the first warrior jinnee he had Frozen. The tide was retreating and the seven-foot-long armor-clad figure lay facedown in the wet sand, his arms outstretched, his ax half-buried in the sand, his shield and the silver wings on his helmet caught up with strings of seaweed. At the sight of the indentations from the ghost crab's claws still visible in his unprotected heel, Jim Knee allowed himself a half-smile. He was thankful the jinn had not seen him coming, for they would have seen him as he really was - the wild, wall-eyed wise woman of some twenty-five thousand summers who had, mistakenly, she sometimes thought, chosen existence as a jinnee in preference to life as a turtle trader's fourth wife. The turtle trader's wife had once had the misfortune to meet the vicious warrior from whom they had been taken, and it was not an encounter Jim Knee wished to repeat.
There was a flash of yellow light, and Septimus saw his jinnee whiz along the line of fallen warriors and disappear into the dunes. He took Syrah's book from his pocket and anxiously looked at the cover. It now read:
Septimus smiled - the Syren's crabbed writing was gone. He looked along the beach, then scanned the dunes.
"You okay, Sep?" asked Jenna.
"Yes, thanks, Jen. Very okay, in fact." He glanced up to the hilltop.
"You expecting someone?"
"Well, I - oh, bother," muttered Septimus.
A figure had detached itself from the group around the fire and was making its way toward them.
"Ah, there you are," said Milo cheerily, settling himself down between Jenna and Septimus. "Mission accomplished, Princess." He smiled at Jenna fondly. "I picked the rats up, though I would happily have left them stranded on that rock. Why you think the Cerys needs its rats back, I really do not know."
Jenna grinned. "They'll be leaving at the Port," she said. "I'll be arranging a pickup."
Milo smiled indulgently. "So like your mother. Always some mysterious project going on." He turned to Septimus. "And you, young man, I cannot thank you enough - you saved my precious cargo."
"You're welcome." Septimus sounded preoccupied.
"And he saved the Castle," said Jenna.
"Indeed, indeed. It was a very clever trick."
"Trick?" Jenna spluttered indignantly. "Sep doesn't do tricks. It was really brave and clever - hey, Sep, are you okay?"
"Yeah...fine," said Septimus, glancing back at the dunes once more. Milo was quite used to people looking distracted when he was talking to them. "Just think," he said. "Just think how different things would have been if I had found this army when I first began searching all those years ago. You, Jenna, would have grown up with your real mother, not with some weird Wizards, and of course you, Septimus, would have spent those precious, never to be recaptured, early years with your own dear parents."
"The weird Wizards, you mean?" asked Septimus.
"Oh. Oh, no, no, of course I didn't mean that. Oh, dear." Milo sprang to his feet, glad of a timely interruption. "Well, he llo. And who is this young lady?"
"Syrah!" gasped Septimus, also leaping up.
Milo suffered a rare attack of sensitivity. "I'll just go and check on things," he said, and hurried off toward the fire.
"Hello, Syrah," said Jenna a little shyly.
"Princess Esmeralda." Syrah dropped into an awkward curtsy. Jenna flashed a questioning glance at Septimus. "No, please, I'm not - "
Septimus stepped in. "Syrah, are you all right?"
Syrah looked anything but all right. She was deathly pale; the dark shadows around her eyes looked even deeper and her hands were trembling. "I am...I think...I am me."
She sat down suddenly and began to shake violently.
"Jen," said Septimus, kneeling beside Syrah, "could you get some water, please - and a HeatCloak too?"
"Of course." Jenna rushed off.
"Septimus," Syrah whispered, "the Syren...I do not understand...where...where is she?"
Septimus held out his hand. In his palm lay the silver phial, covered with a fine frosting of ice, which shimmered in the light from his Dragon Ring.
"Here. The Syren is in here," said Septimus.
Syrah stared uncomprehendingly at the phial. "In there?"
"Yes. Sealed in here," said Septimus. "Syrah, I promise you, the Syren has gone. Forever. You are free."