“People!” Garrett said, “Yes, my… people… are well… I think.”
“You do not hear from the Old One?” she asked.
Garrett shook his head. He remained silent for a moment, and then noticed the expectant look on the little fairy’s face. Garrett frowned. “I could not find any flowers today. I am broken.”
Lampwicke giggled.
“What?” he asked.
“You mean you are 'sorry',” she corrected him, using the proper Fae word, “and I am sorry, but this cup is 'broken'.” She indicated the pink porcelain teacup that he placed inside her cage as a makeshift bath. A crack ran from the base of it to a broken gap at its lip.
“What happened?” he asked, his eyes full of concern, “Are you… wounded?”
Lampwicke looked slightly ashamed, her eyes downturned. “I was angry. Sometimes I am very tired of this veortne cage!”
Garrett did not ask for a translation.
“I am... sorry,” Garrett said, “I give to you my promise, I must find a way to make you free.”
Lampwicke smiled, giving off a soft pinkish glow.
Caleb groaned, drawing Garrett’s attention to where he stood beside Garrett’s desk. The zombie raised his fist and brought it down stiffly atop a pile of books.
“Huh?” Garrett said.
Caleb moaned and brought his fist down on the books again.
Garrett shook his head. “No,” he said, “breaking the cage won’t work. Marla told me that once the spell is woven, the cage doesn’t really matter. The spell holds Lampwicke inside, even if we cut all the bars away and got rid of the cage entirely.”
Caleb groaned in frustration and swung his arm, knocking a book from the top of the stack onto the floor.
“Caleb!” Garrett yelled, “What’s wrong with you?”
Caleb dipped his head and stepped back, murmuring to himself. Garrett crossed the floor and bent to pick up the book. He started to place it back on the pile when he noticed its title, A Treatise on the Use … “Wild magic?” Garrett said, examining the book, Zara’s birthday gift. He had read through it a few times, but never made much headway with the cryptic texts contained therein. He opened it again now.
His eyes passed over the mystical language once more, but this time, certain words began to catch his eye… words whose meanings he now understood.
“Fae!” Garrett said, “It’s written in Fae… or something like it!” He ran to Lampwicke’s table and laid open the book before her.
“Can you speak this?” he asked breathlessly in her language.
Lampwicke’s shining eyes lifted from the pages of the book, and she nodded.
“Can you teach me meaning this?” he asked, his grammar faltering somewhat.
“Yes,” she said.
Garrett looked up at his zombie. “Caleb, you’re amazing!”
Caleb’s face twisted with the memory of a smirk.
Chapter Twenty-one
The doorbells of the Veranu pet shop jingled as Garrett and Caleb stepped in from the rain. Marla looked up from behind the counter and smiled. A green-robed priestess of Mauravant stood before her. The woman turned to look at Garrett, and her red lips curled in distaste when she saw the medallion and purple robe beneath the lapels of Garrett’s coat.
“You’re too late, necromancer,” the priestess chuckled, “I’m afraid I’ve just purchased every last drop of essence in this young lady’s stock.”
Garrett forced a smile and inclined his head respectfully, saying nothing.
“It was not cheap, no matter what assurances this girl may have given me to the contrary,” the priestess said, “I do hope your fellow death-dabblers prove to be worth the tremendous expense of keeping them supplied.”
“The war goes well then?” Garrett asked, brightening at a chance to hear any news from the North.
The priestess lowered her green-shadowed eyelids and sniffed in disdain. “I wouldn’t know, really,” she said, “I try not to concern myself with earthly trifles. Our true enemy lurks in a realm beyond the thin veil you call reality.”
“I don’t understand,” Garrett said.
“You wouldn’t,” she said, and then added, “…or would you?”
Garrett glanced at Marla questioningly. Marla shrugged her shoulders and gave a thin smile.
“The hearts of men,” the priestess said, “The hearts of men are easily kindled with the fires of perdition. In any case, there’s nothing for you here. You might as well be off.”
Garrett said nothing. Neither did he move.
The priestess’ eyebrows rose, and she looked at Marla. “You sold me everything, did you not?” the priestess demanded, “You aren’t holding out on me, are you?”
“No, holy one!” Marla assured her, “The entire stock is yours. The boy is a friend of mine. He comes to visit me everyday at this time.”
The priestess glared at the vampire girl, attempting to read any deception in Marla’s face. She turned at last, with a look of confusion to Garrett. “But he’s a…” she began, and then an expression of revulsion crawled over her face. The priestess snapped her attention to Marla once more.
“I expect the goods to be ready when my men arrive first thing in the morning,” the priestess said, “I will not tolerate excuses if they are not.”
“All will be as you desire, holy one,” Marla said, bowing deeply.
The priestess turned and swept past Garrett as he held the door open for her. As she passed, he heard her hiss under her breath, “… with a vampire!”
The bells jangled as he shut the door behind her and turned to see the smile gone from Marla’s face.
Marla reached under the counter and pulled out a glowing essence flask, thumping it loudly on the countertop. Her smile flashed anew. “Your essence, Mr. Garrett,” she said sweetly.
Garrett grinned back at her as he stepped up to the counter and took the flask. "Who was that?" he asked.
"Matron Shelbie," Marla said, "Assistant to the High Priestess. She's been charged with supplying the expeditionary forces with whatever consumables they may require. She isn't happy about it."
"I see," Garrett said, "Thanks for saving me some."
Marla blushed. "How are your studies coming?" she asked.
"You wanna see?" Garrett beamed.
Marla nodded. "We'd better step into the back room... just in case the Matron decides she forgot something."
Garrett followed Marla back behind the counter and through the runed curtain into the storeroom. Empty crates and cages lined the barren walls, stacked three high and four deep in places. A dim glow emanated from the black iron grinder where Marla rendered living creatures into magical essence.
"You've been busy," Garrett said, his skin tingling a little at the implied carnage.
Marla nodded, and a strand of dark hair fell across her eyes. Without thinking, Garrett raised his hand and brushed it back. His fingertips brushed against the pale, cool skin of her brow. He had left the gloves at home. He pulled his hand away, uncertain.
Marla smiled, and Garrett became suddenly and acutely aware that they were alone together. His heart raced and his mind fumbled for something to say. "I..." he began.
"What have..." Marla spoke at the same time.
"Sorry," Garrett said, "you go ahead."
Marla's eyes sparkled. "What have you learned this time?" she asked.
Garrett pulled the essence flask from his shoulder bag and held it in his left hand. Part of the reason for leaving the gloves at home had been because the leather interfered with the transference of magical power between the flask and his body.
"Stand back a little," he said, stepping to the center of the storeroom. Marla took a step back, leaning against the workbench with her hands behind her back and a look of girlish curiosity on her face.
Garrett held his empty right hand out, palm up. He swallowed, his mouth suddenly very dry, and focused his will on the center of his open palm.
"Veiarnna te nu..." h
e paused, his tongue losing its grip on the Faeish words. He closed his eyes and tried again. "Veiarnna te noulleanna!"
A vibrant curl of rainbow flame hissed and sputtered to life in the palm of Garrett's hand. Garrett, expecting this, still flinched a little. Marla gasped and shielded her eyes with her hand. Garrett noticed her discomfort and let the flame die out with a spluttering pop. The room seemed to fade into darkness, his eyes still dazzled by the light of the flame.
"Are you all right?" Garrett asked.
"Yes," Marla said, laughing a little, "I'm fine."
"Sorry, I didn't realize it was going to be that bright."
"Don't be. It was beautiful!" Marla said, "What was it?"
"Lampwicke called it wildfire," he said, "At least I think that's the proper translation."
"You're really doing it, aren't you?"
"Doing what?"
"Learning Fae magic," she said.
"Yeah, I guess so," Garrett said with a grin.
"I'm impressed," Marla said, taking a step toward him, "It isn't easy."
"I guess it helps to have a real fairy for a teacher," Garrett chuckled.
"Hmn," Marla's eyes narrowed, "Even so, very few people have the talent for it. If you don't mind me asking, how much essence did you use?"
Garrett shrugged, lifting the metal canister in his left hand and giving it a little slosh. It was still almost completely full. His skin ached from the cold where he touched the metal of the canister, and his wrist seemed a bit stiff, unpleasant side effects of the energy transfer.
"You hardly used any," Marla mused, "Are you sure you aren't part Fae?"
Garrett laughed. "You aren't going to put a spell on me, are you?"
Marla grinned wickedly and raised her hand. "Leaastor vehn doghn!" she chanted with an eerie thrumming undertone to the draconic words coming from deep in her throat.
Garrett felt the tingle of old magic wash over him. From the other room, a chorus of squawks, squeaks, and chirrups erupted from the caged Fae beasts. His eyes widened, and he half expected to find himself powerless to move, at the mercy of the dark-haired vampire girl.
He raised his hands, experimentally, unchanged, marveling that a part of his mind seemed slightly disappointed.
"Oh well," Marla sighed, "I guess you are human after all."
"Heh," Garrett managed, an awkward smile twisting his face.
"I suppose it's for the best, really," she said with mock gravity, "I don't have a cage big enough to keep you in."
They shared a laugh, and Garrett slipped the chilled metal canister back into his satchel.
"Any word from your mom?" Garrett asked.
"No," Marla said, "nothing yet, but... Oh! I haven't told you my news! They let me ride a gaunt last night!"
"Really?" Garrett asked, "They changed their minds about letting you ride?"
Marla's face darkened. "Well, not exactly. Master Krauss didn't approve of it, but he's away on patrol in the North. One of the other riders offered to give me a lesson."
"Oh, that was nice of them," Garrett said.
"Yes, one of the younger riders, Claude, said it would be all right… as long as Master Krauss didn’t find out about it.”
“Huh,” Garrett said, “Claude? How old is he?”
Marla laughed. “He’s not much older than me, I think,” she said, “Although it’s somewhat difficult to tell with our kind. He certainly looks very young to be a gaunt rider, though his skill is undeniable.”
“Huh,” Garrett said.
Marla pursed her lips. “What’s wrong, Garrett?”
Garrett felt his cheeks flush. “Oh… nothing!” he said, “It’s… do you like him?”
“Claude? Yes, I suppose. He’s very kind, and a very good teacher.”
“Hmn,” Garrett said.
A little smile played on Marla’s lips, and it looked as if she might speak again, but just then, the shop’s doorbells chimed.
Marla lifted a hand in a wait here gesture before disappearing through the curtain. Voices sounded in the other room as Marla greeted new customers to the shop.
Garrett stood alone in the silence. He looked down at the small dark puddle on the floor at his feet. His raincoat smelled damp and slightly of mildew and felt uncomfortably warm. A little knot had formed in the pit of his stomach, and he wanted to be somewhere else.
He sucked in a breath and pushed through the curtained door. Marla looked up at him questioningly. A cage containing a tiny, flame-colored lizard sat on the counter between her and an elderly gentleman who wore a floppy wet hat and a merchant’s doublet. A younger merchant, possibly the man’s son was studying the motionless zombie who stood near the front door with a look of bored disgust.
“Come on Caleb,” Garrett said, “Time to go.”
Caleb moved suddenly in response to his master’s command, and the young merchant leapt back with a startled cry.
“Bye, Marla,” Garrett said with a wave. He didn’t trust himself to say anymore than that. He had that woozy sort of feeling that always made him say the wrong thing, and he wanted to get away before it had a chance to do any real damage.
Marla returned an unsure little wave, concern in her eyes. “Goodbye Garrett,” she said, “I’ll see you tomorrow!”
“Yeah,” Garrett said, stepping through the door and into the rain.
Chapter Twenty-two
“You’re being dumb,” Warren said. He hefted a chunk of rock the size of Garrett and piled it onto the rough wall it had taken the three of them half the afternoon to build.
"Not there!" the goblin king screeched, "Over there!"
Warren ignored him and dodged the shambling, rock-laden Caleb as he loped back toward the rubble pile for another rock.
"I'm just sayin', it's not like she's gonna marry him or anything," Warren said, grunting as he lifted another rock.
Garrett straightened his back and wiped his brow with the back of his hand. An old bandana covered most of his head, leaving only his face and neck visible, and his linen shirt clung wetly to his back. He looked around the subterranean storeroom and then up at the iron-framed skylight set in the ceiling, high above. Fragments of colored glass still clung to the edges, and twisting vines poured in from the abandoned courtyard above, obscuring all but a small patch of the gray sky beyond.
"Do you think there's gonna be enough light?" Garrett asked.
"No," Warren said, dropping the rock on the new wall, "but I'm not gonna let you talk me into starting over somewhere else. This garden is getting built right here!"
Warren stood back to admire his handiwork for a full second before a largish portion of the retaining wall slumped into dusty ruin at his feet.
"Stupid dog-men!" the goblin howled, pounding his three-fingered fists in frustration on the wobbly stone wall.
"Hey!" Warren said, "I thought you were the one supposed to build this fappin' garden anyway, and you haven't lifted so much as a pebble all day!"
"He needed help," Garrett said, "You saw where he wanted to put the garden."
Warren shook his head. "You shoulda let him do what he wanted," he said, "He woulda been happier... I know I would be."
"Hardly any daylight made it into that chamber at all!" Garrett said, "The flower needs more light than that."
"Why do you care?" Warren asked, "I mean it's not your problem, and it sure as shame ain't mine!"
"It's important to Marla," Garrett said.
Warren rolled his eyes. "Why don't you let me introduce you to a nice ghoul? I mean they can get a little rough when they're feeling frisky, but..."
Garrett gave him a disgusted look.
"Oh, what? You get all dewy-eyed over a blood-sucking dead girl, but a nice healthy ghoul girl doesn't meet your standards?"
"No," Garrett said, "she's not dead, and... It's just that... well, Marla is part human.
Warren started to speak again, but another voice cut him off.
"You're wrong," came the hissing voice of Norris
as the white ghoul stepped from the shadows, "There ain't nothing human left to 'em but their shape."
"Cramps, Norris!" Warren said, startled, "What are you doing here?"
Norris gave a whining coo and dipped his head with a toothy grin. "Just wanted to say good-bye, sweet cousin. I'm gone away tonight."
Warren's expression bloomed into a mask of transcendent joy. "That's just... terrible," he beamed, "I'll be so sorry to see you go."
"Course you are," Norris grated.
"What did you mean?" Garrett asked, "About the vampires... what did you mean?"
Norris turned his feral smile upon Garrett. "I meant they're naught but shells, lookin' like men, but somethin' twisted an' dark inside."
Garrett's leather gloves creaked into fists at his sides.
"Don't listen to him, Gar," Warren said. "He's just messin' with you."
"You know how vampires were made, boy?" Norris asked.
Garrett shook his head.
"I could tell you," Norris said, his golden eyes narrowing as he ran a long-fingered paw over his nose, "but such as that's worth a price."
"I haven't got much money with me," Garrett said.
"You don't need any," Warren growled, "Anything he's got to say's not worth it."
"Knowin's always worth something!" Norris hissed, "And knowin' some things is worth more than money."
"What do you want?" Garrett asked.
Norris cocked his wolfish head to one side, studying the boy. "How you get them burns?" he asked.
"Back off, Norris!" Warren barked, stepping between his cousin and his friend.
Garrett's hand went unconsciously to cover the scars on his neck.
The two ghouls faced each other. Warren crouched, ready to spring, his fangs bared and his claws flexed. Norris stood to his full height for the first time, showing his great, shaggy white chest, the look of cringing deference gone from his bestial face. His eyes flashed red in the pale light, and his long teeth gleamed like ivory.
"I was burned by a dragon!" Garrett said, "The Chadiri burned my town, and I got burned."
Norris’s eyes blinked, golden again as he stooped, his long ears pricking up at Garrett's words. "A dragon?" he hissed.
"Yeah, I almost died," Garrett said, “but Warren's dad carried me out of there and they fixed me up.”
The Necromancer's Nephew Page 15
