Free The Seventh Apprentice by Joseph Delaney

witches!” I exclaimed. “When I’m a spook, I’ll make them my priority. I’m going to have a really big garden with room for lots and lots of pits!”
    “What makes you think I’m going to allow you to complete your apprenticeship?” demanded the Spook. He had been behaving very kindly toward me, which had made me think that my training might continue in spite of the mistakes I’d made. But he went on fiercely: “You’ve clearly had little time to improve your skill with the chain and catch up on your notes—and you went against my express order not to leave Chipenden! That instruction was for your own good, lad. That alone is reason enough to send you home!”
    My heart sank, and I was filled with despair. How could I face my father?
    “However,” the Spook went on, his voice softening a little, “there are a few things in your favor. You’ve shown resourcefulness and bravery, and from what you told me, that chain you cast at the witch wasn’t so very far off the mark. And it’s far harder to face a dangerous adversary from the dark than a practice post. So consider yourself lucky, because I’m going to give you another chance. But it’s time to knuckle down to some hard work and justify my faith in you.”
    “I won’t let you down—I promise I won’t let you down!” I told him, filled with relief and gratitude.
    When we arrived back at Chipenden, the Spook told me that I could have a rest the following day and stay in bed as late as I wanted. But that was the only concession he made to the terrible ordeal I’d been through, and he made it clear that he expected more from me.
    Nothing had really changed. The encounter with the pig witch had simply delayed the inevitable. There could be no more procrastination.
    I was determined to do my best in the future, but at least I had a lazy day ahead of me first. The sun had been up for hours when I finally dragged myself out of bed. I was far too late for breakfast, but a round of chicken sandwiches was waiting for me in the kitchen. They were delicious, and I was grateful—it would be quite some time before I could face bacon again, I reflected.
    But then, despite being given the day off, I headed out to the practice post and worked hard for nearly two hours. I felt more confident after casting the chain at the pig witch, and it seemed to me that I really was starting to improve. I returned to the house far happier, pleased that I’d made an effort.
    As I went in, I caught sight of myself in the small mirror that stood on the mantelpiece above the fire. I lifted it down to see if my face was dirty after all my exertions. All at once I panicked. I wasn’t dirty, but were my cheeks plumper? Had my nose changed? Then I checked my ears. Were they slightly bigger? I’d just convinced myself that they were no different when I noticed something that made my hands shake so badly that I almost dropped the mirror.
    There were tufts of brown hair sprouting from each ear.
    I ran out to the western garden, where the Spook was practicing with his staff, flicking it from hand to hand and stabbing it down repeatedly into the stump of a dead tree. As I sprinted up to him, he stopped what he was doing and stared at me. I was so breathless that at first I couldn’t get the words out.
    “Take a few deep breaths, lad. Take your time, gather your thoughts, and then speak slowly and clearly,” he told me.
    “It’s my ears!” I blurted out. “They’re still under the spell of the pig witch. Look at them!”
    My master came close and examined each ear in turn. “They look like normal human ears to me, lad.”
    “But look at the hair sprouting from them!”
    “Oh, that!” exclaimed the Spook. “That’s nothing to worry about. Just get used to it, lad. You’ve always had hairy ears.”
    It is now almost a year since that day, and at last I’m making real progress with my training. My notebook is up to date and I intend to keep it that way. I don’t find it