Septimus Heap 3 - Physik Read Online Free PDF Page B

night was no exception. He dreamed that he had missed the exam, Marcia chased him, and he fell down a chimney that went on forever and ever ... He kept grabbing at the walls to stop himself but still he kept falling ... falling ...
    falling.
    “Been having a fight with your blankets, Septimus?” A familiar voice echoed down the chimney. “Looks like you lost,” the voice continued with a chuckle. "Not wise to take on a pair of blankets, lad. One, maybe, but two blankets always gang up on you.
    Vicious things, blankets."
    Septimus forced himself out of his dream and sat up, gasping from the cold autumn air that Alther Mella had let in through the window.
    “You all right?” Alther asked, concerned. The ghost settled himself down comfortably on Septimus's bed.
    “Wh ... errr?” Septimus mumbled, focusing with some difficulty on the slightly transparent figure of Alther Mella, ex-ExtraOrdinary Wizard and frequent visitor to the Wizard Tower. Alther was not as difficult to see as some of the older ghosts in the Castle, but at nighttime his faded purple robes had a tendency to blend into the background, and the dimness of the light made it harder to see the dark brown bloodstains over the ghost's heart, which Septimus always found his eye was drawn to, however hard he tried not to look. Alther had a calm and kind expression in his old green eyes as he regarded his favorite Apprentice.
    “Same bad dream?” Alther inquired.
    “Um. Yes,” Septimus admitted.
    “Did you remember to use your Flyte Charm this time?” asked Alther.
    “Er, no. Perhaps I will next time. Except I hope there isn't a next time. It's a horrible dream.” Septimus shuddered and pulled one of the obstinate blankets up to his chin.
    “Hmm. Well, dreams come to us for a reason. Sometimes they tell us things we need to know,” mused Alther, floating up from the pillow and straightening himself out with a ghostly groan. “Now, I thought you might like a little trip down to a place I know not far from here.”
    Septimus yawned. “But what about Marcia?” he asked sleepily.
    “Marcia's got one of her headaches,” said Alther. “I don't know why she gets so upset over that contrary coffeepot. I'd get rid of it if I were her. She's gone to bed so there's no need to bother her. Anyway, we'll be back before she knows we're gone.”
    Septimus did not want to go back to sleep and get into the dream yet again. He tumbled out of bed and pulled on his green woolen Apprentice tunic, which was neatly folded on the end of his bed, just as he had been taught to do with his Young Army uniform every night for the first ten years of his life, and fastened his silver Apprentice belt.
    “Ready?” asked Alther.
    “Ready,” replied Septimus. He headed for the window that Alther had Caused to open when he had arrived. Septimus climbed onto the broad wooden windowsill and stood in the open window, looking down at the precipitous drop some twenty-one floors down, something that he never would have dreamed of doing a few months ago, given his fear of heights. But now Septimus had lost his fear, and the reason for this was held tightly in his left hand—the Flyte Charm.
    Septimus carefully took the small golden arrow with its delicate silver flights and held it between his right finger and thumb. “Where are we going?” he asked Alther, who was hovering in front of him and absentmindedly trying to perfect a backward flip.
    “Hole in the Wall,” Alther replied, upside down. “Nice place. Must have told you about it.”
    “But that's a tavern,” objected Septimus. “I'm too young to go into taverns. And Marcia says they're dens of—”
    “Oh, you mustn't take any notice of what Marcia says about taverns,” Alther told him. “Marcia has some strange theory that people go to taverns just to talk about her behind her back. I've told her that people have much more interesting things than her to discuss—like the price of fish—but she won't believe