The Necromancer's Nephew (16 page)

Max tugged off his cravat and tossed it at one of the zombie servants. The strip of cloth landed across the zombie's head.

Garrett told Caleb to go stand beside Max's zombies. Caleb shuffled over as commanded and stood, tilting his head as he studied the expressionless wooden masks they wore.

Garrett followed Max Zara into the sitting room where Cenick sprawled languidly in one of the many comfortably oversized chairs.

"Did she slap you again on the way out? Cenick asked, lifting his eyebrows.

Max frowned. "Shouldn't you be packing or something?" he asked. He crossed the room to pour himself a drink from a crystal brandy decanter.

"I've already packed," Cenick said, "Hello, Garrett."

"Hi," Garrett said

"Have a seat, Garrett," Max said, tossing back the drink and pouring himself another, "Can I get you something?"

"Oh, no, thanks," Garrett said, taking the chair next to Cenick's.

"What brings you to the love nest today, Garrett?" Cenick asked.

"Uncle wanted me to stop by and ask you both to dinner tonight. I think he has something he wants to talk to you about."

"What is it?" Max asked, lowering himself into the chair facing Garrett.

"Well, I'm not sure what exactly," Garrett said, "but I think he's afraid that the Chadiri have brought in extra troops to fight us."

"What makes him think that?" Cenick asked.

"He had the ghouls bring him a bunch of Chadirian arms and he read their tattoos."

A bit of the cockiness drained from Max's face, and he glanced at Cenick. Cenick rubbed his chin and looked thoughtful.

"If Uncle was concerned enough to do something like that..." Cenick said.

"Yes," Max said, running one hand through his hair as he swirled his drink with the other, "I wish he was coming with us."

"Is Uncle really that good?" Garrett asked.

Cenick snorted and Zara laughed. "I've seen him raise a score of undead in one night, using month-old dead and half a flask of essence," Zara said, "To this day, I don't know how he did that."

"Uncle Tinjin is the most powerful necromancer I've ever met," Cenick said, "He's the only one of us whom the Sisterhood actually fears.

"They're afraid of Uncle?" Garrett laughed.

Cenick leaned forward. "Uncle Tinjin is a good and gentle man. We are very lucky that he is. If another man possessed his power, a selfish or wicked man, we would fear that man for his evil as much as we love Uncle for his goodness."

"I feel that Uncle Tinjin will get involved in this little war someday," Max said, "and that will be a very bad day for the Chadiri."

"Then why doesn't he fight now?" Garrett asked.

"Because it will be a very bad day for him as well," Cenick said.

"What do you mean?"

Cenick looked at Max. "Power is a kind of drug, Garrett," Cenick said, "especially magical power. The more you use it, the better it feels, and the more excuses you will invent to justify using it again. Uncle has enough power within him that he could become a very great man... or a very bad man.

"I think Uncle would rather just be a good man, so he uses his power sparingly. He doesn't want the magic to define him, so he refuses to give in to the urge to wield it the way we might hope that he would."

Zara shook his head. "I think he's being a little too cautious," he said, "The magic only reflects what is inside us, and Uncle Tinjin is the purest soul I've ever met... aside from myself of course." He grinned.

“Hmnph,” Cenick said, “I’m sure Uncle has his reasons. I’m not about to start questioning them now.”

“Well, forgive me if I remain the optimist here,” Max said, “I’m hoping that he’ll change his mind, or maybe he already has. We’ll definitely be there in time for dinner tonight, Garrett.”

“Thanks,” Garrett said, “I was hoping to see you both again before you left.”

Max smiled. “You know we’d never leave without saying goodbye,” he said.

The doorbells jangled loudly as Garrett stepped into the cool shadows of the pet shop. He ushered Caleb quickly inside and then shut the door behind them.

“Marla?” he called out, his eyes not yet adjusted to the gloom within.

“Over here,” the vampire girl answered quietly.

A somber hush filled the shop. The usually active Fae creatures lay still and quiet inside their cages with only an occasional rustling sound or buzzing wing breaking the silence. Garrett saw Marla then. She sat, perched atop a high shelf in the corner of the shop, dangling a silver collar, tied to the end of a long string. She gave it a spin, and the string shortened as it coiled around her fingers. When it reached the end, she spun it in the opposite direction, letting it unwind and then wind again around her fingers. Her dark hair hung over her eyes, and she gave no more acknowledgement of Garrett’s presence.

“Is everything all right?” Garrett asked.

“I guess so,” she said, the metal collar slapped into her palm, and she spun it loose again.

“I brought my zombie to show you,” he said.

“Oh,” she said, brushing her hair from her eyes and looking up. She wrapped the string quickly around her fingers and dropped silently from the shelf. A moment later, she stood before them.

“His name’s Caleb,” Garrett said, “He used to be a thief, and I think he remembers some of his old life. Uncle says that’s impossible, but I’ve seen him do stuff that other zombies can’t do.”

“Hi, Caleb,” she said, crossing her hands across her chest and bowing her head slightly.

“So, are you all right?” Garrett asked, “You seem a little… sad.”

Marla frowned. “They won’t let me ride the gaunts yet,” she said.

“I’m sorry,” Garrett said, “I
s it that you’re too young?”

“Maybe,” she said, “but there’s something else wrong. When my mother came back from her meeting she seemed upset. She tried to hide it, but I could see something was bothering her. She said that she might have to go away for a while, and I would have to watch the shop until she came back.”

“Did she say where she was going?” Garrett asked.

"Back to Thrinaar," Marla said, "She said it was Council business, but she didn't explain anymore than that. When I woke up this morning, she gave me a letter she had written for your uncle." Marla stepped behind the counter and came back with a crisp folded square of brown paper. It was sealed with a blob of red wax, stamped with a familiar-looking rune.

"That's your father's symbol, isn't it?" Garrett asked.

Marla nodded. "Mother still has his signet ring."

"I'll give it to him," Garrett said, taking the letter.

"Thank you," Marla said.

"Oh, I did want to get some more essence from you," Garrett said, pulling two empty canisters from his bag.

"Oh, actually, a priestess came by this morning and purchased all the stock we had on hand," Marla said, "I'm sorry."

"Oh... that's all right," Garrett said.

"Two flasks?" Marla said, looking down at the empty containers, "Does your uncle have a large commission? We should have some fresh stock in by the end of the week."

"No, it was just a personal project," Garrett said.

"A personal project?" she asked.

"Yeah, I wanted to try some of the things I'd been reading about in the wild magic book that my friend Max gave me."

"I could render down one of the pets, if you think that would work for you," she said, looking around at the many silver cages. A chorus of hisses and buzzing sounds arose from the small creatures trapped within.

"No!" Garrett said, "It can wait... I'm probably gonna be too busy this week anyway."

Marla shrugged, and the Fae creatures grew silent once more. "All right. I'm sorry we don't have any scarabs left."

"Do the priestesses usually buy essence from you?" Garrett asked.

"I've never known them to use it before," Marla said, "The flasks the priestess gave me to fill had never been used before, and they weren't very well crafted. Her men had a whole cartload of them. I think they were visiting all the suppliers. Speaking of which, I could tell you some other shops you might try, in case the priestess hasn't bought out the entire city's supply."

"No," Garrett said with a smile, "you're the only girl I'd want to buy essence from."

Marla smiled. “So, tell me about your zombie,” she said.

“Well,” Garrett said, turning to look at Caleb, “We used the essence of a satyr thief to make him.”

“Satyr essence?” Marla said, “That’s illegal to sell here. I wonder where your uncle got it?”

Garrett shrugged. “It seemed pretty old. Uncle said he was a famous thief.”

“Perhaps you could discover his real name then?” Marla asked.

“Maybe, but I kinda think his human body used to be a thief too.”

“Why is that?” she asked.

“Uncle said he was killed by the Night Watch.”

Caleb made a low groaning sound.

“And only a criminal would be out past curfew, right?” Marla nudged Garrett with her elbow.

Garrett laughed. “I don’t know,” he said, “I was just thinking that maybe he was special because we used the essence of a thief on the body of a thief. What if the reason zombies are so dumb… usually… is because we reanimate them with bug juice?”

“Even if that were the case,” Marla said, “I’m not sure we would want a bunch of smart zombies running around.”

“Why not?”

“Suppose you reanimate a bunch of dead enemy soldiers and tell them to attack their friends?” she said, “What if they’re smart enough to decide they’d rather attack you instead?”

“Oh, I guess that makes sense,” he admitted.

Marla put her hand on Garrett’s shoulder. “You’re the only friend I’ve got,” she said, “I don’t want you to get eaten by your own homework.”

Garrett grinned.

Garrett arrived home just as the caterers were unloading their wagon. Uncle had hired Mrs. Nash and her sons to cook for the dinner party. Garrett’s mouth began to water at the sight of the steaming trays of food the boys pulled from the back of the wagon. As much as he liked Tom the kitchen zombie, Garrett still preferred to eat something prepared by a living cook, and Mrs. Nash was the best in the city.

“Hi, guys!” Garrett called out as he approached the back of the wagon, “Can I help carry anything in?”

The two Nash boys looked up and said, “Hey, Garrett!”

“This is the last of it,” Pierce, the older of the two, said. He pulled a basket of warm rolls down from a rack inside the canvas-covered wagon. He had the high cheekbones, almond-shaped eyes and fair hair common to the Fraelans. Many of them had fled to the city when the Chadiri occupied their island home.

"What'd you bring us?" Garrett asked.

"Honeyed ham and..."

"Pepper chicken," Kent, the youngest, interrupted, "I guess Mister Cenick is coming for dinner."

"Yeah," Garrett said, "he likes the spicy food."

"Big event tonight?" Pierce asked as Garrett followed the boys into the house.

"Uh huh," Garrett said, "A lot of the necromancers are leaving for the war tomorrow morning, so Uncle is having a party for them tonight."

"I hope they kill all the redbucks!" Kent said, setting his platter of boiled eggs down on the counter as they entered the kitchen
.

Tom the zombie let out a low moan and looked at Garrett for instructions.

"It's all right, Tom," Garrett said, "They don't need any help."

Tom shambled further back into his corner and turned his face to the wall.

"No offense," Pierce whispered, "but that thing gives me the creeps. You really let it touch your food?"

"Yeah," Garrett said, "Tom does a pretty good job... usually."

"It has a name?" Kent asked.

"Oh, I just call him Tom," Garrett said, "Uncle doesn't really name his zombies. He let me name mine though, since I made him myself." He turned to indicate Caleb who had just walked into the kitchen behind them.

"This is Caleb," Garrett said.

"Hi, Caleb," Pierce said with an amused smile.

Kent just stared at the zombie with a disgusted look
.

Caleb's thin lips stretched back over his white teeth, and he groaned, his glassy eyes fixed on the younger boy.

Kent started backward. "Don't let him eat me!" he yelped.

Garrett and Pierce laughed.

"Zombies don't eat people," Garrett said.

"They don't?" Pierce asked, "What do they eat then?"

"I don't know," Garrett said, "nothing, I guess. I mean their insides don't work anymore, so they can't really eat anything."

"How do they fight the Chadiri, then?" Pierce asked.

"I think they give them armor and swords and spears and stuff," Garrett said, "They aren't very fast, but they are pretty strong."