Magyk (Septimus Heap, Book 1)
Angie Sage
Language: English
Pages: 640
ISBN: 006223692X
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
The Magyk Begins Here
Septimus Heap, the seventh son of the seventh son, disappears the night he is born, pronounced dead by the midwife. That same night, the baby's father, Silas Heap, comes across an abandoned child in the snow—a newborn girl with violet eyes. Who is this mysterious baby girl, and what really happened to the Heaps' beloved son Septimus?
Discover what Kirkus Reviews calls "a deliciously spellbinding series"!
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Alley to the South Gate, Snorri had the uncomfortable feeling that she was being followed, but every time she turned around, there was nothing to see. Suddenly Snorri had heard a scuffling behind her, she spun around and there they were—a pair of round red eyes and one long needlelike tooth glinting in the light of her hand torch. As soon as the eyes saw the flame, they melted into the twilight and Snorri saw no more of them. Snorri told herself that it was only a rat, but not long after, as she
it is sheltered from the near-horizontal rain. “Are you sure it’s down here?” asks Marcia, glancing behind. She doesn’t like alleyways. Alther slows his pace and drops back to walk beside Marcia. “You forget,” he says with a smile, “that not so very long ago, I came down here quite often.” Marcia shudders. She knows that it was Alther’s faithful visits that kept her alive in Dungeon Number One. Alther has stopped beside a blackened, brick-built cone that looks like one of the many disused
Silas put his head in his hands and groaned. “How?” he asked. “What happened?” “Well, now,” said the nun, “it would seem that young Simon had a girlfriend.” “Did he?” “Yes indeed. Lucy Gringe is her name.” “Not Gringe the Gatekeeper’s daughter? Oh, no.” “I’m sure she’s a nice lass, Silas,” remonstrated Sister Bernadette. “Well, I hope she’s nothing like her father, that’s all I can say. Lucy Gringe. Oh, goodness.” “Well now, Silas, it seems Simon took himself back to the Castle for a
Aunt Zelda had many potions to tend. He knew that the potions that needed to be kept in darkness were the most unstable and required constant attention; only the day before, Aunt Zelda had spent hours filtering a muddied Amazonian Antidote that had gone lumpy in the cold. But what Boy 412 noticed this particular morning was how quiet it was in the potion cupboard, and he knew that Aunt Zelda was not generally a quiet person. Whenever she walked past the Preserve Pots they rattled and jumped, and
impatiently. He didn’t like interruptions, especially when the message was so old that he was afraid he may not remember it. He coughed impatiently. “Message begins: Dear Marcia, I hope you are keeping well. I am well and am at the Castle. I would be grateful if you would meet me outside the Palace as soon as possible. There has been a development. I will be at the Palace Gate at midnight, every night, until your arrival. Looking forward to seeing you, With best wishes, Silas Heap