While Septimus and Nicko were getting lost far away in the Forest, Simon Heap was taking Jenna deep into the Badlands.
Thunder stumbled slowly up a narrow track, which wound through endless slate quarries, some old and abandoned, oth' ers with signs of recent work, although eerily deserted. The disturbed earth and the shattered rocks gave off a malevolent atmosphere, and Jenna felt her spirits sink. Far above her, a ~ournful moan drifted from the desolate tops of the hills trie east wind was blowing in and thick gray clouds were piling up in the sky. The sunlight grew dim and the air became chill. Simon wrapped his long black cloak around him, but enna was shivering; all she had to keep her warm was her light summer tunic.
"Stop shivering, will you?" growled Simon.
"I don't have a cloak like you do," snapped Jenna.
"You wouldn't want a cloak like mine." Simon sneered. "Too much Darke Magyk for Little Miss Perfect here."
"You shouldn't joke about that stuff, Simon," protested Jenna.
"Who said I was joking?" asked Simon.
Jenna fell silent, still shivering.
"Oh, have this then and stop fussing," said Simon, exasperated. He fished out a cloak from his saddlebag and grumpily handed it to Jenna. Jenna took the cloak, expecting to find a rough horse blanket, and was amazed at what Simon had given her. It was the most beautiful cloak that she had ever seena rich, deep blue, finely woven from the softest wool combed from the belly of a mountain goat, and lined in golden silk. Simon had intended it as a present for Lucy Gringe. He had planned to leave it outside the gatehouse, with a note tucked inside the lining that only Lucy would find. But when Simon had arrived at the North Gate early that morning, with his dark cloak pulled high around his face to avoid Gringe recognizing him, he had seen Silas jauntily walking down the street carrying the box of Counter-Feet. The last person Simon wanted to see was his father, and he had quickly changed direction and taken a shortcut to Wizard Way. Silas had not even noticed himhe had been too busy going over his strategy for that morning's game. So now, to Simon's irritation, the beautiful and extremely expensive cloak he had chosen for Lucy was wrapped around Little Miss Princess Perfect.
Jenna pulled Lucy's cloak tightly around herself. She was warm now, but very tired, in front of Simon on the weary horse. The dark slate quarries went endlessly on, and Thunder was plodding up a steady incline. The track had narrowed; it was bound on one side by steep slate cliffs that rose into the overcast sky, and on the other side by a deep ravine, at the bottom of which was a dark swirling river full of jagged rocks and treacherous whirlpools. Jenna wondered if Simon was ever going to stop; he seemed to have no concern for her or his horse. Thunder was tiring fast, and once or twice the horse had lost his footing on the loose scree, which covered the sides of the gray slate hills, and had nearly sent them all plunging into the river below.
Suddenly Simon spoke. "Whoa, Thunder, whoa there, boy." Thunder slowed to a halt and shook his head, snorting wearily. Jenna glanced about, suddenly anxious now that they had stopped.
Quickly, Simon dismounted from Thunder and took the reins. "You can get off," he told Jenna. "We're here."