Septimus Heap
Unnoticed on the chimney pot of Keeper's Cottage, a storm petrel perched. He had been blown in the night before and had been watching the Apprentice Supper with great interest. And now, he noted with a feeling of fondness, Aunt Zelda was about to do what the petrel had always considered she had a particular gift for.
"It's the perfect night for it," Aunt Zelda was saying as she stood on the bridge over the Mott. "There's a beautiful full moon, and I've never known the Mott to be so still. Can everyone fit on the bridge? Shuffle up a bit, Marcia, and make room for Simon."
Simon didn't look as if he wanted to be made room for.
"Oh, don't bother about me," he mumbled. "Why break the habit of a lifetime?"
"What did you say, Simon?" asked Silas.
"Nothing."
"Let him be, Silas," said Sarah. "He's had a tough time recently."
"We've all had a tough time recently, Sarah. But we don't go around moaning about it."
Aunt Zelda tapped the handrail of the bridge irritably.
"If everybody has quite finished bickering, I would like to remind you that we are about to try to answer an important question. All right, everybody?"
Silence descended on the group. Along with Aunt Zelda, Boy 412, Sarah, Silas, Marcia, Jenna, Nicko and Simon were all squashed onto the small bridge that went over the Mott. Behind them was the Dragon Boat, her head raised high and arched over them, her deep green eyes staring intently at the reflection of the moon swimming in the still waters of the Mott.
In front of them, pushed back a little to allow the reflection of the moon to be seen, was Molly with Alther sitting in the prow, observing the scene with interest.
Simon hung back on the edge of the bridge. He didn't see what the fuss was about. Who cared where some Young Army brat came from? Especially a Young Army brat who had stolen his lifelong dream from him. Boy 412's parentage was the last thing Simon cared about, or was ever likely to as far as he could imagine. So, as Aunt Zelda started to call upon the moon, Simon deliberately turned his back.
"Sister Moon, Sister Moon," said Aunt Zelda softly, "Show us, if you will, the family of Boy 412 of the Young Army."
Exactly as before in the duck pond, the reflection of the moon began to grow bigger until a huge round white circle filled the Mott. At first, vague shadows began to appear in the circle; slowly they became more defined until everyone watching saw ... their own reflections.
There was a murmur of disappointment from everyone except Marcia, who had noticed something no one else had, and from Boy 412, whose voice seemed to have stopped working. His heart was pounding somewhere high in his throat, and his legs felt as though they might turn into parsnip puree at any moment. He wished he had never asked to see who he was. He didn't think he really wanted to know. Suppose his family was horrible? Suppose they were the Young Army, like he had been told? Suppose it was DomDaniel himself? Just as he was about to tell Aunt Zelda that he had changed his mind, that he didn't care who he was anymore, thank you, Aunt Zelda spoke.
"Things," Aunt Zelda reminded everyone on the bridge, "are not always as they seem. Remember, the moon always shows us the truth. How we see the truth is up to us, not the moon."
She turned to Boy 412, who stood beside her. "Tell me," she asked him, "what would you really like to see?"