The meddling Princess, like Septimus, had had an unusually formal birthday morning. At nine o'clock precisely, a tall woman dressed in Palace robes so ancient that they actually had long gold ribbons dangling from their sleeves banged on the Palace doors.
The duty Door Wizard was having his breakfast, so it was Sarah Heap who eventually opened them. "Yes?" she asked irritably.
"I am the Bringer of the Book," the woman announced imperiously. Without waiting to be asked, she swept inside, bringing with her a pungent smell of mothballs and the faint whiff of fish.
"Presents go on the table," said Sarah, indicating a large table already piled with assorted colorful packages. "We are not opening them until this evening."
The Bringer of the Book made not the slightest move in the direction of the table. She towered over Sarah, her height increased by great swathes of white hair piled precariously on the top of her head and secured with a wild assortment of combs. She looked at Sarah in disbelief. "But I am the Bringer of the Book," she said.
"I know. You already said. That's very nice; Jenna enjoys reading. Just put it on the table. Now excuse me, I really must go. You know the way out." Sarah indicated the doors, which were still thrown wide open.
"The way out?" The woman sounded incredulous. "I am not going out. I have come to see the Princess. Now, my good woman, I will trouble you to announce my presence."
Sarah spluttered indignantly, but Jenna's timely arrival stopped any further escalation of hostilities.
"Mum!" she said, rushing in from the Long Walk. "Have you seen my - oh!" Jenna stopped and stared at the tall, imperious woman in the ancient Palace uniform. The old red and gray robes with their gold ribbons gave her the weirdest feeling, transporting her back to the frightening few days she had spent at the Palace in the ghastly Queen Etheldredda's Time. "Who . . . who are you?" she stammered.
The Bringer of the Book swept down into a deep curtsy, her long, fragile ribbons falling gracefully to the dusty floor.
"Your Grace," she murmured. "May I offer you my humble congratulations upon your Day of Recognition. I am the Bringer of the Book. I come to you as I came to your mother, and as my mother came to her mother before her, and as her mother came to her mother before her. I come to you to bring you the Book."
Sarah felt the need to translate. "She's brought you a book, Jenna. That's nice, isn't it? I've told her to put it on the table as we're not opening the presents until this evening."
The Bringer of the Book rounded on Sarah. "Mistress, I would ask you to hold your tongue. You may return to your duties - whatever they may be."
"Now look here - " Sarah began. She was stopped by Jenna, who was beginning to understand that something important was going on.
"Mum," said Jenna. "It's okay. I think it's - you know - Princess stuff." She turned to the woman and spoke in her best Princess voice. "Thank you, Bringer of the Book," she said. "May I introduce to you my mother, Madam Sarah Heap?"
The Bringer of the Book gave Sarah a small, perfunctory curtsy. "I apologize, Mistress Heap. I assumed from your dress that you were a menial."
"There's a lot of work to do around here and someone has to do it," snapped Sarah. "You can talk to Jenna in my sitting room if you want to go somewhere warm. I've just lit the fire." With that she walked off, head held high, stray wisps of straw-colored hair bouncing crossly as she strode into the Long Walk in search of Silas Heap.
The Bringer of the Book looked disapprovingly at the retreating Sarah. She did not lose the expression when she turned to Jenna. "A sitting room will not be suitable for this important occasion," she said. "It is traditional for the Presentation to take place in the Throne Room. Perhaps you will be so kind as to lead the way."
The last time Jenna had been in the Throne Room was five hundred years ago, in Queen Etheldredda's Time. It did not hold good memories. Before then - or, strictly speaking timewise, after - she had been in the Throne Room only once, and luckily she did not remember it. That was fourteen years ago to the very day, the day that her real mother, Queen Cerys, was shot dead. The idea of going into the Throne Room dismayed her, especially on this day of all days.
"The Throne Room is locked," Jenna said coolly. "I do not use it."
For the first time the Bringer of the Book regarded Jenna with something like approval. "Of course you do not use it, Princess. That is exactly how it should be. You have had no need for it until today. But today, the occasion of your fourteenth birthday, is the day of your first official engagement. Traditionally this takes place in the Throne Room - as you know." The Bringer of the Book smiled at Jenna as though they were in on the same joke - a joke that no one else was clever enough to understand. Jenna had known girls like that at school and she hadn't liked them. She felt the same way about the Bringer of the Book.
Jenna was about to retort that she didn't care what the occasion was, she wasn't going to unlock the Throne Room for anyone and anyway, she didn't have the key, when Silas appeared. Jenna felt in need of his support.
"Dad," she said, forgetting her Princess manners in her distress at being asked to unlock the Throne Room. "Dad, we don't have the key to the Throne Room, do we?"
Silas surprised her. From his pocket he took a heavy, red-jeweled key and presented it to her with a small bow.
"Don't be silly, Dad." Jenna laughed, deliberately not taking the key. "You don't have to bow."
Silas looked serious. "Maybe I should now that you're fourteen," he said.
"Dad?" Jenna began to feel concerned. What was happening? It sounded as though something was about to change, and she didn't want it to.
Silas looked uncomfortable. "Marcia told me last week about, er . . . her." He waved his hand at the increasingly affronted Bringer of the Book. "She gave me the key. She said that from your fourteenth birthday forward it is possible at any time that The Time May Be Right."
"Right for what?" Jenna demanded crossly. She hated it when people arranged things without telling her and then expected her to go along with it. It took her right back to her tenth birthday, when she was suddenly taken away from her family. And, as ever, Marcia was involved.
Silas was conciliatory. "You know for what, love," he said. "For you to be crowned Queen. You are old enough now. It doesn't mean you are going to be, just that it is possible. And that is why this lady - "
The Bringer of the Book glared at Silas.
Silas coughed. "Ahem, I mean this very, er . . . important, very official lady has come today. She is the hereditary Bringer of the Book. And traditionally you receive it in the Throne Room." Silas caught Jenna's gaze. She looked upset. "It's uh . . . symbolic, you see. Of, um, of what you will be one day."
"So why didn't you tell me?" demanded Jenna. "Or Mum?"
Silas looked upset. "I didn't want to spoil your birthday for you or Mum. I know how you feel about the Throne Room. I'm sorry, I suppose I should have said."