F rom the shadows of a dank and smelly street, Wolf Boy saw Septimus and Spit Fyre rise above the rooftops and fly off into the sun. He Watched until they were no more than a small black speck in the sky, or possibly just a piece of soot on the end of his eyelash - it was hard to tell. And then he set off, following the last of Aunt Zelda's maps. Like Septimus, Wolf Boy felt elated by a new sense of freedom mixed with responsibility. He was on his own but not alone, for he knew that Aunt Zelda was thinking about him and that the job he had to do was important to her - very important. He did not know why; he was just happy to be trusted to do it. Wolf Boy had spent years living in the Forest and was unused to seeing so many people at once. But as he made his way toward the Harbor and Dock Pie Shop - which he had been looking forward to for days - he felt excited by the streets and the strange mixture of people walking past him. It was, he thought, much like the Forest, only with houses instead of trees and people instead of Forest creatures - although he thought that the Port people were much weirder than any Forest creatures. As the lanky boy with the straggly dreadlocks, grubby brown tunic and loping wolflike gait wound his way along the cobblestone streets that snaked between the dilapidated warehouses, he drew no attention from the mongrel inhabitants and visitors to the Port. And that was the way that Wolf Boy liked it.
Aunt Zelda's map was good. Soon he emerged from a narrow cut between two warehouses into the breezy sunlight of the old fishing harbor. Before him, bobbing in the choppy water, was a motley collection of boats tended by fishermen and sailors. Some were being unloaded onto waiting carts and others were being made ready for venturing out into the wide blue expanse of sea that filled the horizon. Wolf Boy shivered and pulled his brown woolen cloak around himself. Give him the Marsh or the Forest any day, he thought; the vast emptiness of the sea scared him. Wolf Boy breathed in deeply. He liked the faint salty tang of the air, but even better he liked the mouthwatering aroma of hot pies that told him he had come to the right place. His stomach gave a loud gurgle and he headed for the Harbor and Dock Pie Shop. The pie shop was quiet. It was just before the lunchtime rush, and a plump young woman behind the counter was busying herself getting another batch of pies out of the oven. Wolf Boy stood in front of the biggest variety of pies that he had ever seen in his life, trying to decide what to buy. He wanted to try them all. Unlike Septimus, Wolf Boy had not taken to Aunt Zelda's distinctive style of cooking and immediately decided against any pie with cabbage in it - which only cut out three. Finally he bought five different pies.
As he turned to go, the door to the shop burst open and a young, fair-haired man strode in. The young woman behind the counter glanced up and Wolf Boy saw an anxious look cross her face. "Simon," she said, "any luck?"
"Nope," the young man replied.
Wolf Boy froze. He recognized that voice. From underneath his dreadlocks he stole a look at the new arrival. Surely it wasn't...it couldn't be. But yes, there was a scar across the young man's right eye exactly where the stone from his catapult had caught him. It must be him. It was - it was Simon Heap.
Wolf Boy knew that Simon had not recognized him. Indeed, Simon had barely even glanced at him. He was deep in a murmured conversation with the woman. Wolf Boy hesitated. Should he sidle out and risk Simon noticing him or should he stay put and feign a continuing interest in the pies? With the hot pies just begging to be eaten, Wolf Boy favored getting out fast before he was noticed, but something in Simon's voice - a kind of desperation - stopped him.
"I can't find her anywhere, Maureen. It's like she's vanished into thin air," Simon was saying.
"She can't have," was Maureen's sensible reply.
Simon - who knew more about these things than Maureen realized - was not so sure.
"It's my fault," he said miserably. "I should have gone with her to the market."
Maureen tried to comfort him. "Now, you can't go blaming yourself, Simon," she said. "Lucy has a temper on her. We both know that." She smiled. "She's probably just gone off in a huff. You'll see. She did that for a whole week once when she was here."
Simon was not to be comforted. He shook his head. "But she wasn't in a temper. She was fine. I have a bad feeling about this, Maureen. Oh, if only I had Sleuth."