As Jenna walked into the front office of the Manuscriptorium, she heard a strange noise, rather like the stifled squeak of a distressed hamster, coming from behind the door. She peered around and saw the shadowy figure of a slightly chubby boy with a shock of black hair wedged behind the door handle. "Beetle?" she asked. "Is that you?"
The distressed hamster, who was indeed Beetle, holding the door open for his Chief Hermetic Scribe, replied with another squeak, which Jenna decided to take as a yes.
Jenna glanced about the Manuscriptorium with some trepidation, but to her relief there was no sign of Marcia.
"This way, please, Jenna. We shall have to proceed without Madam Marcia." Jillie Djinn's voice came from somewhere at the back of the office and Jenna hurried toward it, skirting a large desk at the far end. She joined the Scribe beside a small door in a half wood, half glass partition wall. Jillie Djinn pushed open the door, and Jenna followed her into the Manuscriptorium itself.
A hushed silence hung over the Manuscriptorium, broken only by the sound of the scratching of pens and the occasional twang of a broken nib. Twenty-one scribes were hard at work copying out Incantations and Invocations, Chants and Charms, Summonses and Spells and even the occasional love letter for those who wanted to make an impression. Each scribe was perched at a high desk, laboring under a small pool of yellow light cast by one of the twenty-one oil lamps, which were suspended on long and sometimes dangerously frayed ropes from the vaulted ceiling.
The Chief Hermetic Scribe beckoned Jenna to follow her. Jenna found herself tiptoeing through the tall banks of desks while each scribe turned to look at the Princess, and wondered what she was doing and why she was carrying a pair of old boots. Twenty-one pairs of eyes watched Jenna follow Jillie Djinn into the narrow passageway that led to the Hermetic Chamber. Surprised glances were exchanged and a few eyebrows were raised, but no one said anything. As Jenna disappeared around the first corner of the passageway, the scratching of nibs on paper and parchment resumed its normal level.
The long, dark passage that led into the Hermetic Chamber turned back on itself seven times to cut short the flight of rogue spells and anything else that might try to escape from the Chamber. It also cut out the light, but Jenna followed the rustling sound of Jillie Djinn's silk robes and before long she stepped into a small, white, round room. The room was virtually empty; in the center was a simple table on which was placed a lit candle, but it was not the candle that drew Jenna's eye, it was the Glass - a horribly familiar, tall, dark Glass with an ornate frame propped up against the roughly plastered wall of the Hermetic Chamber.
Jillie Djinn saw Jenna's hopeful expression fade. There was no Septimus, just the sight of another Glass, which was the last thing she wanted to see again.
"From my studies," the Scribe said, "I understand that the early Glasses were simple, one-way-only openings. And from my calculations, I would say that this Glass is an early model and was made at the same time as the Glass in your room. I suspect this one actually comes back from that place."
"The place where Septimus is?" asked Jenna, her hopes rising yet again.
"Indeed. Wherever that may be. So tell me," Jillie said, "does this look the same as the Glass in the Queen's Room?"
"Well, it wasn't exactly in the Queen's Room," said Jenna.
"Oh." The Scribe sounded surprised. "Then where was it?" She picked up a pen and a notebook from the table and stood poised to write down the information. It was not forthcoming.
"I cannot say," said Jenna, adopting the Scribe's officious tone. She felt grumpy at the intrusive questions - the secrets of the Queen's Room were none of the Scribe's business.
Jillie Djinn looked cross but there was nothing she could do. "But this Glass does look the same as the other Glass - wherever that may be?" she persisted.
"I think so," said Jenna. "I can't remember all the details of the other one. But it's got the same black glass and ... the same horrible feeling."
"That is not entirely illuminating," said Jillie Djinn, "for a Glass will, to some extent - depending on your susceptibility to such manifestations that may or may not be apparent - reflect your own expectations."
Jenna had an inkling of how Wolf Boy had felt earlier. "They do what?" she asked.
"You see what you expect to see," said Jillie Djinn briskly.
"Oh."
The Scribe sat down at the table and opened a drawer. She drew out a large leather-bound notebook, a sheaf of papers covered in columns of figures, a pen and a small bottle of green ink. "Thank you, Jenna," she said without looking up. "I believe I have enough information. I will now proceed."
Jenna waited patiently for a few minutes and then, when the Scribe showed no sign of stopping her scribbling, she asked, "So ... Septimus - he'll come back here, will he?"
The Chief Hermetic Scribe looked up, already lost in another world of calculations and conjunctions. "Maybe yes. Maybe no. Who can say?"
"I thought you might," Jenna muttered crossly.
"I may," said Jillie Djinn sternly, "be able to say when my calculations are done."
"When will they be done?" asked Jenna anxiously, feeling that she could hardly wait another minute to see Septimus again and ask him what had happened.
"This time next year, if all goes well," replied the Scribe.
"This time next year?"
"If all goes well."
Jenna walked back into the front office in a bad mood. At the sight of the Princess, Beetle jumped up from his seat behind the desk. His ears suddenly turned bright red; he gave a hamster-style squeak and said, "Hey."
"What?" snapped Jenna.
"Um. I wondered..."
"What?"
"Um ... Sep okay?"
"No, he's not," Jenna replied.
Beetle's black eyes looked worried. "I guessed not."
Jenna shot Beetle a glance. "How did you know?"
Beetle shrugged. "His boots. He's only got one pair of boots. And you've got them."
"Well, I'm going to give them back to him," said Jenna, making for the door. "I don't know how I'm going to find him, but I will - and I'm not waiting a whole year to do it either."
Beetle grinned. "Well, if that's all you need to do, it's easy."
"Oh, ha-ha, Beetle."
Beetle gulped. He didn't like making Jenna cross. "No, no, you don't understand. I'm not being funny. It's true. He's easy to find - now that he's Imprinted a dragon."
Jenna stopped, hand on the doorknob, and stared at Beetle. "How do you mean?" she asked slowly, not daring to hope that Beetle might have the answer that his Chief Hermetic Scribe did not.
"I mean that a dragon can always find his Imprinter," said Beetle. "All you have to do is a Seek and then, whizz bang, off he goes. Easy-peasy. You could go with him if you wanted, seeing as you're the Navigator. Just got to do a Locum Tenens, that's all. Problem solved." Beetle folded his arms with an air of satisfaction.
"Beetle, could you ... um, could you say all that again? A bit slower this time, please?"
Beetle grinned at Jenna. "Wait a minute," he said. Beetle hurled himself through the door and vanished into the back of the Manuscriptorium. Just as Jenna was wondering what could have possibly happened to him, the door burst open and Beetle was back, clutching a bright red and gold tin.
He held the tin out to Jenna. "Yours," he said.
"Mine?"
"Yep."
"Oh, well, thank you," said Jenna. A silence ensued while she looked at the tin and read the words LOKKJAW TOFFEE COMPANY FINEST TREACLE TOFFEES, printed in thick black letters on the lid. "Would you like a toffee, Beetle?" asked Jenna, trying to pry open the tin.
"Not toffees," said Beetle, coloring.
"Oh?"
"Here, let me get the lid off for you."
Jenna handed Beetle the tin. He struggled with it for a few seconds; then the lid popped off, and a flurry of what appeared to be bits of very thin leather, most of them either singed, crumpled or torn, tumbled to the floor. A strong smell of dragon filled the air. Flustered and hot, Beetle knelt to retrieve the pieces of sloughed dragon skin.
"Not toffees," muttered Beetle as he collected them.
"No, they're not," agreed Jenna.
"Navigator stuff," Beetle elaborated. He picked out a long piece of green leather and held it up, saying, "Seek." Then he found a charred red scrap and said, "Ignite." Lastly he found what he was looking for - a much-folded sheet of thin blue papery material - and said triumphantly, "Locum Tenens!"
"Oh. Well, thank you, Beetle. That's really nice of you."
Beetle went a deeper red. "It's okay. I mean ... um, you see, after you became Sep's Navigator on Spit Fyre, I collected all the stuff I could find about Navigators and put it in my toffee tin. The one that my auntie gave me for MidWinter Feast Day. I hope you don't mind," he said a little sheepishly. "I mean, I hope you don't think I was being nosy or anything."
"No, of course not. I always meant to find out about being a Navigator but I never did. I think Sep thought - I mean, thinks - that being a Navigator means cutting Spit Fyre's toenails and cleaning out the dragon kennel."
Beetle laughed and then stopped as he remembered that something horrible had happened to Septimus. "So ... would you like me to show you the Locum?" he asked.
"The what?"
"The Locum Tenens. It will let you take over from Sep, and Spit Fyre will do everything you ask after that - or, well, he'll do everything that he would have done for Sep."
"Not everything then." Jenna smiled.
"No. But it's a start. Then you can do the Seek and off you go to find Sep. Easy - well, it should be. Here it is." Beetle carefully took the thin blue piece of sloughed skin, unfolded it and flattened it out on the desk. "It's a bit complicated, but I reckon it will work okay."
Jenna stared at a mass of confusing symbols, which were written in a tight spiral that wound its way up to a burned corner. Complicated was putting it mildly. She had no idea where to start.
"I can translate it if you like," Beetle offered.
Jenna brightened. "Could you really?"
Beetle's ears went deep crimson again. "Yeah. Of course I could. No problem." He took a large magnifying glass from the drawer and squinted at the skin. "It's quite simple, really. You just need something belonging to the Imprinter - " Beetle stopped and glanced at Septimus's boots. "Which ... um ... you've got. You lay it ... them in front of the dragon, I mean Spit Fyre, and then you put your hand on the dragon's nose, look into his eyes and tell him - look, I'll write this down so you don't forget." Beetle reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled card, then, taking his pen from its inkstand, he wrote a long string of words with great concentration.
Grateful, Jenna took the card. "Thank you, Beetle," she said. "Thank you so much."
"all right," said Beetle. "Anytime. Except. I mean. I hope there isn't any other time. I mean. I hope Sep's okay and ... if you need any help..."
"Thanks, Beetle," said Jenna, a little tearfully. She ran for the door and wrenched it open. Wolf Boy was leaning up against the window, looking extremely bored. "Come on, 409," said Jenna, and she ran off toward the Great Arch at the end of Wizard Way. Soon she and Wolf Boy had disappeared into the blue shadows of the lapis lazuli archway.
Back at the Manuscriptorium, Beetle sat down and ran his hand over his forehead. He felt hot, and he knew it was not just because he always went red whenever he saw Jenna. As Beetle leaned back in his seat, a cold sweat ran over him from top to toe and the office began to spin.
The scribes inside the Manuscriptorium heard the crash as Beetle fell off his chair. Foxy, the son of the disgraced former Chief Hermetic Scribe, rushed out to find Beetle sprawled on the navigator tin the floor. The first thing that Foxy noticed was a single puncture mark, from which spread a brilliant red rash, in the gap of flesh between the top of Beetle's boots and his leggings.
"He's been bitten!" Foxy yelled to all the shocked scribes. "Now Beetle's got it!"