“Over what?” asked Septimus, who had got lost on the Frog Fusions.
“The Marsh Python. Great ugly green thing, thick as a sewer pipe, snaking in through the door all the way to the desk, with its horrible flat head staring around and its long green tongue flicking in and out.” Aunt Zelda shuddered. “The wretched thing stretched all down the path to the Mott; in fact most of it was still in the Mott. I think it had been after Bert, because later I found her under my bed with her feathers in a terrible state.”
“What did you do?” asked Septimus.
“I gave her some milk and Balm Brew. It always calms her down.”
“You gave the python some milk?”
“What?”
“Zelda means she gave Bert some milk and Balm Brew,” said Wolf Boy. He turned to Aunt Zelda. “So what did you do with the python?”
“I swept it out with the BeGone broom,” said Aunt Zelda, shuddering at the memory. “Later I found that a bowl was missing and I realized what had happened. That disgusting snake had swallowed it. So I put the two bowls away with a Return Spell. It’s only a matter of time—the bowl will come back one day; things that belong together always do.”
“It will be too late by then,” said Jenna flatly.
Aunt Zelda looked desolate. “Jenna dear, I am so, so sorry. I know I should have told you, but I hoped the Dragon Boat would recover her strength in her own way and we would never need to use the Triple again.”
“Now I understand why you wouldn’t do the Revive,” said Jenna. “It wasn’t about it being better for the Dragon Boat to heal herself at all. It was because you’d lost a bowl. I wish you’d told me the truth.” Jenna was trying not to feel angry, but she could not believe that Aunt Zelda had kept something so important from her. She remembered what Sarah said about witches: they tell you what they want you to know—not what you want to know.
Jenna had been stroking Bert, who lay sleeping on the cushion beside her. But being stroked by someone who was upset made Bert feel edgy. Suddenly the duck gave Jenna’s hand a sharp peck. Jenna, to her utter embarrassment, burst into tears.
“Hey, Jen,” said Septimus, “it’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.” Jenna sniffed.
“We can fix it, I know we can,” Septimus insisted.
“But how?” Jenna asked, blowing her nose on her red silk handkerchief.
Septimus picked up one of the bowls and turned it over in his hands. “When he’s got the Fyre going, I bet Marcellus could make another one.”
“I’m afraid he can’t, dear,” said Aunt Zelda. “A new bowl would not belong. It couldn’t communicate with the others. You see, they are all from one original piece of ancient gold.”
“Ah . . . Cloned gold.”
“Gnomed gold?” asked Aunt Zelda, whose hearing was not as good as it had been.
“Cloned. Each one belongs to the other. Like identical triplets. Oh!” Septimus suddenly realized what he had said. He glanced at Jenna.
The shock at the disappearance of the third bowl had put all thoughts of Wolf Boy’s brothers out of Jenna’s mind. But now she was glad to think of something else for a while. She nudged Septimus. “Go on.”
“Ahem,” said Septimus nervously. Suddenly, it seemed such a big thing to tell Wolf Boy.
The little cottage fell silent. Aunt Zelda stared mournfully at the fire.
“Triplets,” said Jenna, trying to get Septimus to speak.
“Weird. Don’t you think?” said Wolf Boy.
“What’s weird?” Jenna asked.
“Triplets. Twins. People being identical.” Wolf Boy shook his head. “I dunno why, but whenever I see twins or triplets it always gives me a peculiar feeling. Right here.” Wolf Boy pushed his fist against his stomach. “Something about people looking the same, I guess.”
Septimus and Jenna exchanged glances. Tell him, Jenna mouthed.
Wolf Boy was a good lip reader. “Tell him what?” he asked suspiciously.
Septimus looked at Wolf Boy. “Um. There might be another reason why you feel like that.” He pushed his fist against his stomach just as Wolf Boy had done.
“Yeah?” said Wolf Boy, picking up a bowl and twirling it to catch the reflections from the firelight.
“Identical triplets,” said Septimus. “I mean . . .”
Wolf Boy put the bowl down and stared at Septimus, puzzled. “What?”
Septimus floundered. “Well, some people actually are triplets but they don’t know they are but even so they still kind of know deep down because even though they can’t remember it they were together once I mean so close together you can’t imagine it and so that’s why they get this weird thing when they hear about triplets and . . .”
“You all right, 412?” Wolf Boy asked.
“Yep. Fine.”
Jenna could bear it no longer. “Sep, just tell him straight.”
Wolf Boy looked worried. “Tell him what straight?” he asked.
Septimus took a deep breath. “You are an identical triplet. We’ve found your brothers—well, Beetle has. He went to the Young Army Record Office. And there are two more like you: 410 and 411.”
“Jeez.” Wolf Boy slid down to the floor with a bump.
Septimus grinned. “I suppose you’re the lost bowl,” he said.
“Swallowed by the python,” Jenna added.
Aunt Zelda looked up, shocked. “Swallowed by the python? Who?”
“It’s all right, Zelda, no one’s been swallowed by the python,” Wolf Boy said gently. “But it seems . . . wow, it’s so weird . . .” He grinned. “It seems I got two brothers. Just like me.”
“Oh, yes, so you have. I forgot.” Aunt Zelda smiled.
“You knew?” asked Septimus.
“I remember now. There were two boys at your fourteenth birthday party. They worked in a cave place . . . what was its name?”
“Gothyk Grotto,” Jenna supplied.
“That’s it, dear. I thought at the time, Wolf Boy, that your voices sounded so alike. But it slipped my mind.”
“Two more of me . . .” Wolf Boy was muttering.
Septimus could not stop smiling. “Yep, two more of you. Except they’ve got less hair. And they’re not so thin. And they are really pale compared to you.”
“That’s right,” said Aunt Zelda, pleased that she could at least remember this. “At the party—you were sitting opposite them, Wolf Boy dear.”
“Opposite?” said Wolf Boy, shocked.
“They’re really nice,” said Jenna.
“Yeah. Yeah . . .” Wolf Boy mumbled.
“You could do a lot worse,” said Septimus. He was an expert in long-lost brothers.
Wolf Boy shook his head. “Yeah. I know. I really liked them. Matt and, er, Marcus, yeah?”
“That’s right.”
Wolf Boy put his head in his hands. “It’s . . . it’s so horrible.”
Jenna glanced anxiously at Septimus. “What’s horrible?” she asked, putting her arm around Wolf Boy’s shoulders.
“It’s so horrible that I met my brothers and I had no idea. They could have been anyone. I should have recognized them,” he said, sounding upset. “But I didn’t. I didn’t.”
“How could you?” said Septimus. “You were only three months old when they took you away.”
“Took me away?”
“Your father was a Custodian Guard. He made a joke about the Supreme Custodian and they took his children away. You and your brothers.”
Aunt Zelda reached out and took Wolf Boy’s hand. No one said anything for some minutes.
At last Wolf Boy spoke. “You know, 412, it was bad what they did to us. Really, really bad.”
“Yes, it was,” said Septimus. “It was disgusting.”
Jenna picked up the two gold bowls and cradled them in her hand. “Sep,” she said. “I want to take these to Marcellus. We have to go. Now.”
Septimus sighed. He wanted to stay and talk to Wolf Boy. “But, Jen, I told you. Marcellus doesn’t have the Fyre going yet. It will be weeks before there is any chance of making another one.”
Jenna shook her head stubbornly. “I have to try, Sep. I have to.”