A small, wiry man clad head to toe in an assortment of furs clambered down the trunk of the oak tree and jumped lightly onto the snow. His deep-set eyes, like two little black beads, quickly took in Jenna and Beetle and then fixed on Septimus as he came toward them. The man's brown, wrinkled face put Jenna in mind of an organ grinder's monkey she had once seen at a fair - she hadn't liked the look of the monkey then, and she didn't like the look of the man now.
The man waited until Septimus had joined them and then he spoke. "In case you was a'wondering, I be the Toll-Man," he said. "No one crosses the bridge without paying a price. Some pay more than others. It depends."
"On what?" asked Jenna sharply. She didn't like the way the man was looking at her.
"On whether I like 'em. And on how much gold they have." He smiled unpleasantly. The smile showed, to their surprise, two rows of gold teeth in bizarrely mismatched shapes and sizes. "Don't worry, Missy," he said, "I can tell you young 'uns still got your own teeth and they're no good to me.
I'm a fair man. Don't ask folks for what they can't give." He shook his head as though amused. "But I is always surprised by what folks can give when they have to." He ran a long pale tongue over his uneven teeth and grinned.
"So, how much does it cost to cross the bridge?" Jenna asked.
"How much do you want to cross?" asked the Toll-Man.
No one answered because no one actually wanted to cross at all. All they wanted was to be on the other side.
"So are you crossing or just looking?" asked the Toll-Man irritably. "I charge for looking, too. Can't have folks cluttering up the place all day just looking."
"We're crossing," said Jenna decisively. "How much do you want?"
The Toll-Man looked Jenna up and down. "Well, Missy. That's a nice circlet of gold you have upon that pretty head of yours. I'll take that."
Jenna's hands flew up to her gold circlet - the one that her mother, the Queen, had worn as a girl.
"You can't have that!" she gasped.
The Toll-Man shrugged. "Then you can't cross."
With a heavy heart, Jenna reached up to take the circlet off. It was only an object, she told herself.
Nicko was worth more than gold. Much more. But the Toll-Man did not notice; he was already eyeing Beetle. "You, boy - I'll have your timepiece," he said.
Beetle looked shocked. "How do you know I've got a timepiece?" he asked.
The man paused, briefly wrong-footed. "I can hear it ticking," he said. "Got an ear for ticking, I 'ave."
Beetle frowned. He shot a questioning glance at Septimus, who returned it with a slight nod of his head. "And you, boy," the Toll-Man said, turning to Septimus, "you've got a nice silver belt there with a few bits of gold on it. That'll do me well enough. I'll have the little trinkets inside, too." The man regarded them all with his bright yellow smile. "You see - I'm a fair man. I don't ask for what you haven't got." From his pocket he drew out a large velvet bag that hung from a collapsible wooden ring. With a practiced flick of the wrist he snapped the ring open and the bag hung down like an empty sock. Like the organ grinder's monkey, the Toll-Man pushed the bag toward Septimus. "You first, boy. Put your belt in there."
Very slowly, Septimus unbuckled his Apprentice belt, closely observed by the eager eye of the Toll-Man, who licked his teeth once again in anticipation. "'Urry up, boy. You won't get across in daylight at this rate." Septimus was fumbling with the last part of the buckle, partly because his cold fingers were clumsy and slow, but mainly because he needed time to think. Another Young Army saying was going around in his head: To win the fight, time it right. Time it right, he thought, gritting his teeth, time it...right!
With a click, the buckle finally snapped open and the Toll-Man leaned forward with his collecting bag. At that moment, to Jenna's shock, Septimus sprang at the Toll-Man and knocked him to the ground. The man fell back into a thick patch of snow. Before he had time to push Septimus off, Beetle had piled on top of them and Jenna watched in horror as, like a giant snowball, the struggling trio rolled toward the edge of the precipice.
The Toll-Man was not big, but he was strong, and without Beetle's weight - and willingness to land some good punches - Septimus would not have stood a chance. To Jenna's relief, the snowball stopped just short of the edge with Septimus and Beetle on top of the Toll-Man. "Shove him over, Sep - now!"
yelled Beetle.
"No!" yelled Jenna, horrified at the thought of pushing someone to his death. "No. You can't do that.
You can't!"
It seemed that Jenna was right. As if buoyed by her shout - and the boys' temporary loss of concentration - the Toll-Man found some extra strength. With an angry shove he threw Beetle off and sent him sprawling into the icy bank of the footpath. There was a sharp crack as Beetle's head met the wall of ice. He slumped down, a trickle of red running from behind his ear and staining the ice with a pinkish tinge.
Jenna glanced at Beetle. At least he was safe, and well away from the edge - Septimus was not.
Septimus's head was in fact hanging over the edge of the precipice, and the Toll-Man was about to make sure that the rest of him followed.
Septimus stared into the abyss, trying not to imagine how far the ground was below the fog. While he struggled against the relentless pushing from the Toll-Man - whose sharp intakes of breath he could feel on the back of his neck - Septimus wished more than ever that he had the Flyte Charm. He could see it so clearly, he could almost feel it in his hand. The little white wings of his own Charm that Marcia had given him, which had become part of the Flyte Charm, were fluttering...
Then suddenly, Septimus was over the edge. As he began - incredibly slowly, so it seemed to him - to fall, he grabbed on to one of the bridge stanchions and there he hung, swinging above the abyss.
Uncaring now about whether the Toll-Man fell to his death or not, Jenna swung her fist at him and caught him by surprise. There was a thud as the man fell forward into the snow and knocked one of his gold teeth out. Blearily, he scrabbled in the snow to retrieve it.
Jenna's face appeared over the edge of the precipice, white and scared, afraid of what she would see.