Marcia strode across the Palace Moat, her feet echoing on the warm planks of the old wooden bridge. At her side was Milo Banda who, on the brisk walk from the boatyard to the Palace, had had the task of calming Marcia after her encounter with Aunt Zelda.

Standing at the Palace door, beside the small gold chair on which the ghost Godric sat dozing, was a sub-Wizard, a smart young woman with brilliant green eyes.

"Good evening. Welcome to the Palace." The sub-Wizard smiled.

"Good evening, Hildegarde," replied Marcia.

Milo Banda hung back, standing uncertainly on the threshold. Marcia noticed that he was trembling slightly and there were tears in his eyes.

"Oh," she said softly, "I'm sorry, Milo. I didn't think. Would you like us to leave you alone for a few moments?"

Milo Banda nodded. He wandered off down the Long Walk, looking at the empty walls and shaking his head in dismay.

Suddenly Marcia felt wearyit had been a long day. The Identify had left her feeling curiously empty and, to top it all, her foot throbbed painfully from its encounter with Spit Fyre that morning. With a sigh of relief, she sat down heavily on Godric's chair and took off her shoe. The ghost leaped off the chair in alarm and fell onto the floor in a confused heap.

"Alther," said Marcia crossly, "I thought I told you to get rid of all the Ancients. We don't need them now that we have the sub-Wizards on door duty."

"Godric was very upset when I asked him to leave, so I told him he could stay. Anyway," Alther tutted, "you should have more respect for the Ancients. You'll be one, one day."

Alther dusted Godric off and wafted him over to a comfortable armchair in a quiet, dark corner of the hall. The old ghost immediately fell into a deep sleep and did not wake until many years later, when Jenna's own daughter ran into him with her scooter.

It was unfortunate that when Jenna returned to the Palace, she did not notice Alther and Marcia sitting quietly in the shadows cast by the rows of flickering candles placed around the hall. The first person she saw, as he emerged from the gloom of the Long Walk, was the stranger from the Port. At the sight of Jenna he gasped and stopped in his tracks. Jenna screamed.

Marcia jumped to her feet. "Jennawhat is it?" she asked, glancing around anxiously.

Jenna did not reply. She tore out of the Palace and headed for the safety of Septimus, Nicko, Aunt Zelda and Wolf Boy, who were making slow progress across the Palace lawns while Spit Fyre insisted on chasing a lawn lizard.

"He's here!" yelled Jenna as she reached Aunt Zelda. "That manhe's here!"

"What man?" asked Aunt Zelda, both bemused and amused at the sight of Marcia running across the lawn toward them, wearing only one shoe.

"Jenna," said Marcia breathlessly as she finally caught up with her. "Jenna, what's wrong?"

"That manthe stranger at the Port. The one who grabbed Thunder, the one who followed me, the one who's in league with Simonyou've asked him to my Palace. That's what's wrong!"

"But Jenna," Marcia protested, "that man has every right to be in the Palace. He's Milo Banda. He's"

"I don't care who he is!" yelled Jenna.

"But Jenna, Jenna, listen to mehe's your father."

Everyone stared at Marcia in shock.

"No he's not," stuttered Jenna. "Dad's down at the boatyard ... with Mum."

"Yes, Silas is at the boatyard," said Marcia gently. "And Milo is here. Milo is your own father, Jenna. He has come to see you."

For a long time Jenna was silent. Then suddenly she said, "So, why didn't he come to see me beforewhen I was little?" And she took off across the lawns and along the path that led to the back of the Palace.

"Oh dear," said Marcia.

Silas Heap did not take kindly to the arrival of Milo Banda either, especially when Sarah insisted on arranging a celebration supper on the Palace roof to welcome him home.

"I don't see how you can celebrate when our eldest son is stuck down in those awful Ice Tunnels," Silas had objected.

Sarah was busying herself with laying the table while Silas had plonked himself down on one of the Palace gold chairs and was staring gloomily at the darkening summer sky.

"I just don't want to even think about Simon," Sarah said briskly. "The Search Party will soon find him and then at least he'll be somewhere safe and warm."

"Safe and warm in the Castle jail is not what I wanted for him, Sarah," Silas muttered.

Sarah shook her head. "Silas, if you remember, yesterday we had no idea where any of the children were. We have three back todayfour if you count Simonand we should consider ourselves lucky. That's the way I am going to look at it from now on." She straightened the tablecloth and told the Supper Servant to go and see how the cook was getting on. "Anyway, Silas, we must make Milo Banda welcome. He is Jenna's father after all."

"Huh," said Silas grumpily.

Sarah carefully put her favorite candlesticks in the middle of the long table. "We knew this might happen one day. It's no good being funny about it."

"I'm not being funny," Silas protested. "I just think it's odd that he's turned up after all these years. I mean, where's he been all this time? Seems downright suspicious to me. Huh."

"Don't keep saying 'huh', Silas. It makes you sound so crotchety."

"Well, maybe I am crotchety. And I'll keep saying 'huh' if I want to, Sarah. Huh."

Supper went on late into the night. Sarah had put Milo Banda at the head of the table simply laid with a white cloth. It reminded Jenna of the morning of her tenth birthday, which now felt like another lifetime. Jenna had sat as far away from Milo Banda as she could getat the other end of the tablebut it wasn't until she sat down that she realized she was now opposite Milo, and every time she looked up she saw him trying to smile at her or catch her eye. Jenna spent most of the meal staring at her plate or making pointed conversation with Aunt Zelda, who was sitting next to her.

As the torches burned down and midnight approached, the summer air cooled and people began to yawn. Aunt Zelda leaned over to Jenna and said in a low voice, "Your father is a good man, Jenna. You should hear what he has to say."

"I don't care what he has to say," Jenna answered.

"A wise Young Queen listens first. Then she judges."

Supper was finished. Marcia, Septimus and Spit Fyre had gone back to the Wizard Tower. Nicko was off with Silas, who wanted to show him a new colony of Counters he had found behind a pipe in the Palace attic. Sarah was tending to Wolf Boy, who had fallen asleep at the beginning of supper, and Aunt Zelda was down in the kitchens trying to get the night cook to boil a cabbage for breakfast the next morning. Alther Mella sat quietly in the shadows, musing on the events of the day.

And Jenna was listening to Milo Banda.

"You know," Milo was saying, "your mother and I were so pleased when we knew we were going to have a child. We both hoped for a girl so that she could become Queen. Of course, I was never King; it is not the way you do things here, unlike many of the Far Countries. There, would you believe, they pass the succession down through the boy childrenvery strange. But I was glad not to be King, for although I was just an ordinary merchant, I loved my job. I loved the excitement of traveling and the possibility that one day I would make my own fortune. Then six months before you were due to be born, I heard of just such an opportunity. With your mother's blessing, I chartered a ship at the Port and set off. My luck was in and before long I had a ship full of treasure to bring back to you and your mother. All went well, I had a good crew and fair winds all the way home, and I arrived in Port on the very day you were due. Everything, I thought, was perfect. But then ... when we docked..." Milo's voice faltered. "I remember it as though it were yesterday ... a deckhand told me the news, the terrible news that was all over the Port ... that my dear Cerysyour motherhad been killed. And my little daughter, too."

"But I wasn't killed," whispered Jenna.

"No. I know that now. But thenI didn't. I believed what everyone said."

"Well, they were wrong. Why didn't you come to the Castle and see if it was true? Why didn't you come to find me? You ran away."

"Yes. I suppose it seems so. But at the time I could not bear to stay. I left on the next tide and wandered wherever the winds took meuntil I was captured by Deakin Lee."

"Deakin Lee!" Jenna gasped. Even she, who was not at all interested in pirates, had heard of the dreaded Deakin Lee.

Milo risked a rueful smile in Jenna's direction. She gave him an uncertain half smile in return.

"I will never forget those seven long years in Deakin Lee's hold," he said in a low voice. "All the time I thought of the terrible thing that had happened to you and your dear mother..."

"How did you escape?" asked Jenna.

"One night, in the spring of last year, the ship came upon tumultuous waves. I've heard it said they were the swell from a Darke storm thousands of miles away, but they were good waves for me. Deakin Lee was washed overboard and his crew freed me. I took over the ship. Some weeks later we put in to a small port and I heard the rumor that you were alive. I could hardly believe itI felt my life was beginning again. We set sail immediately and had fair winds all the way to the Port. We anchored offshore and raised the Yellow Duster to alert Customs, and the Chief Officer was rowed out to us the next morning. She took one look at the treasure onboard and told us we had to wait until the main bonded warehouse was freeshe was a tough one, that Officer Nettles. But I am grateful to her, for had she not done so I would not have seen you that night."

Jenna remembered the scene at the warehouse. It all made sense now.

Milo continued, "When I looked up and saw you sitting on that horse, just the way your mother used to, and then I saw the circlet around your head, I knew you were my daughter. But I am sorry, Jenna, I think I frightened you that night. I wasn't thinkingI just wanted to talk to you. Jenna ... Jenna?"

Jenna had spun around and was gazing into the shadows cast by the torches guttering on the Palace roof.

"Jenna?" Milo repeated.

"I can feel someone watching me," she said.

Milo shifted uncomfortably. "So can I," he said. Milo Banda and his daughter stared into the shadows but neither saw the ghost of the Queen watching her husband and daughter talk together for the first time in their lives.

Alther wafted up to the Queen. "It's good to see you venturing out of the Queen's Room at last," he said.

The Queen smiled wistfully. "I must return at once, Alther; but I could not resist seeing rny dear Milo just once againand with our daughter, too."

"You can tell they are father and daughter," observed Alther.

"Yes, that's true." The Queen nodded slowly. "There is something about the way they stand, is there not?"

"Yet she looks like youremarkably like you."

"I know," sighed the Queen. "Good night, Alther." Alther watched the Queen drift silently past Jenna and Milo Banda, both of whom looked straight at her but saw nothing. Soon the Queen reached the turret and delicately stepped through its thick stone wall. Inside the Queen's room the fire burned as brightly as always and the Queen sat quietly in her chair, remembering the events of the daythe day she had awaited for so many years.

Septimus, Marcia and Spit Fyre walked slowly along Wizard Way. The torches blazed in their silver posts, and Spit Fyre kept pouncing on the flickering shadows cast on the pavement. It was now after midnight and all the shops were closed and dark, but as they walked past the Manuscriptorium, Septimus thought he glimpsed a light behind the great piles of books and papers. But when he looked more carefully he could see nothing.

Marcia limped painfully up the marble steps to the Wizard Tower. Septimus settled Spit Fyre into the dragon kennel for the night.

"Make sure he can't get out, Septimus," Marcia told him as the great silver doors of the Tower opened for their ExtraOrdinary Wizard. "And don't forget to double bolt the door."

"All right," he said, and Marcia tottered gratefully inside.

Spit Fyre settled down surprisingly easily. Septimus shot the two massive iron bolts across the door and tiptoed away to the sound of the dragon's snores shaking the kennel.

It was a beautiful night. The Wizard Tower courtyard was deserted; the Magykal torches placed along the tops of the courtyard walls cast a soft purple light across the old flagstones, dim enough for Septimus to still see a myriad of stars in the night sky.

Septimus was reluctant to go inside. He looked up at the stars and all his old dreams of flying came back to him. He knew he could resist no longerhe took out the Flyte Charm. The golden arrow with its new silver flights sat buzzing in his hand, and Septimus felt a thrill of Magyk go through him. As the flights began to flutter, Septimus felt himself lifting off the ground, up, up, until he was as high as the Great Arch. Holding the arrow between finger and thumb he pointed it toward the Palace, then he spread his arms out as he had once seen Alther doand he flew.

He swooped down Wizard Way, low and fast just as Aither liked to, sped over the Palace Gate, and then soared up onto the Palace roof, just as he had always done in his dreams. Below him he saw Jenna and her father leaning over the battlements, talking quietly. Unsure whether to interrupt them, but longing to surprise Jenna and show her how well he could Flye, Septimus hovered for a moment waiting for a break in Milo's ramblings. Then something caught his eye.

On the other side of the river, a horse galloped through the Farmlands. Riding the horsenewly stolen from outside the Grateful Turbot Tavernwas a familiar figure. Simon.

Septimus pointed the Flyte Charm toward the shadowy figure of his eldest brother. "Follow," he whispered to the Charm. The next moment he found himself hurtling away from the Palace and swooping across the lawns that led to the river. Soon damp smells of the river filled his nostrils as he skimmed low across the cool nighttime water, startling a few ducks on the way. As the ducks' angry quacking subsided, Septimus reached the far bank; he flew above the thatched roof of a lone farmhouse and hovered for a moment, searching out his brother. Sure enough, in the distance along the dusty road that wound through the Farmlands, Septimus saw a horseman spurring his horse into the night. A final, breathtaking turn of speed brought him level with Simon, and Septimus flewunseen at firstalongside him, easily keeping pace with the sweating horse.

At last Simon became aware that all was not well. "You!" he yelled, skidding to a halt in a cloud of dust.

Septimus landed lightly in front of the horse.

"Youyou've got my Flyte Charm," Simon spluttered, seeing the golden arrow in Septimus's hand.

"I do have the Flyte Charm," Septimus agreed, neatly flying out of reach as Simon lurched forward to snatch it. "But the Flyte Charm is not mine. The Flyte Charm belongs to no one, Simon. You should know that an Ancient Charm is its own master."

"Pompous prat," Simon muttered under his breath.

"What did you say?" asked Septimus, who had heard perfectly well.

"Nothing. Get out of my way, brat, and don't think you can try any Transfixing rubbish this time."

"I'm not going to," replied Septimus, hovering in front of the horse. "I've just come to tell you to get out of here."

"Which was exactly what I was doing," Simon growled.

Septimus held his position, blocking Simon's path. "I also came to tell you that if you ever try to harm Jenna again, you will have me to deal with. Understand?"

Simon stared at his youngest brother. Septimus returned the stare, his brilliant green eyes flashing angrily. Simon said nothing, for there was a feeling of power about Septimus that he recognizedthe power of a seventh son of a seventh son.

"Understand?" Septimus repeated.

"Yeah," muttered Simon.

"You can go now," Septimus said coolly and dropped to the ground, standing to one side so that Simon could pass.

Simon looked down at the defenseless boy in green in the dark, deserted Farmlands, way past midnight. For a brief moment he considered how easy it would be to make Septimus disappear; no one would know what had happened. No one would ever suspect ... but Simon did nothing. And then suddenly he kicked his horse into action and galloped off, yelling over his shoulder, "I wish you had been dead when the midwife took you away!"

Septimus flew slowly back to the Wizard Tower with Simon's words echoing in his head.

He smiled. The last of his brothers had accepted him.