The Necromancer's Nephew (6 page)

Garrett's mouth had gone dry. He licked his lips and turned his attention back to the corpse on the table
.

He spoke again, his voice louder, insistent, "Fallen ones, I bid you rise. Spirit and Flesh undone now mend. To the Spirit a body given. To the Flesh a quickening gift."

As he spoke, his words hardened, losing their uncertain tone and reverberating with the timbre of command
.

"Join as one, oh wisp and bone. Join in strength and know new life. Fallen ones, now one, arise. I give you life to serve my call."

Garrett's skin tingled with the rush of power. He could feel the spirit that stirred upon the slab, not quite alive, but no longer dead. It writhed and recoiled from the cold strange flesh of the pallid corpse. It did not wish to obey
.

"Again, boy!" Uncle shouted
.

Garrett held the book open with one hand, clutching his gold medallion with the other. It's comforting weight grew warm in his grasp as he read the words aloud again
.

A fine, glowing mist began to form upon the corpse's white skin. The essence rose like a billowing cloud from the fleece to envelope the dead young man
.

Garrett's hand ached upon the amulet, his eyes wide as he shouted the words again
.

Suddenly, the corpse's arm twitched. Its leg bounced on the slab
.

Garrett released the amulet and stretched forth his hand over the body. The words of the spell rolled from his tongue
.

The dead man arched his back. One hand clawed at the fleece. Its head turned toward Garrett, and its eyes opened
.

The words came from Garrett's mouth with no aid from the written page, but this time, when he came to the end, he did not begin again. He simply said, "Rise."

The zombie sat bolt upright on the slab, gasping for breath. It looked straight ahead with an expression of horror upon its face and uttered a terrible, anguished moan
.

Garrett suddenly felt as though he had just dropped an armload of heavy stones. He sagged forward, leaning against the table and breathing heavily
.

"Well done!" Uncle said, clapping Garrett on the back so hard that it stung
.

Garrett smiled weakly and started to speak, but his vision went all gray and the floor suddenly rushed up toward him
.

He felt a cold hand closing around his arm as the blackness swallowed him up
.

The
Evenchimes
sounded over the city of Wythr. Garrett had to get home before curfew
.

No, he was already home, in his bed
.

His eyes fluttered open to find the long shadows of night already filling his room. A cool, damp rag lay across his forehead, and his entire body ached when he tried to move
.

He looked to his bedside table and saw the faint glow of Lampwicke. She lay curled asleep on a bed she had fashioned from the piece of bread he had given her. The grapes, untasted, were strewn about the cage floor
.

He heard voices in the hall
.

"Uncle?"

In a moment, he heard footsteps and the door creaked open. Uncle Tinjin entered, followed by a grinning Max Zara and the tattooed Cenick
.

"He survived!" Zara laughed, "I guess we don't get to zombify him after all."

Uncle ignored him. "How are you feeling, Garrett?"

"Sore," he answered, "did I do something wrong?"

"No," Uncle said, "you performed admirably."

"Is my zombie all right?"

Zara laughed. "He's a necromancer all right."

"Your zombie is fine," Uncle said, "He's downstairs. You can name him when you're feeling better."

Garrett tried to lift himself, but his arms shook with effort. He fell to bed again, and the room seemed to rock like a boat around him
.

"I said when you're feeling better," Uncle scolded
.

"What's wrong with me?" Garrett gasped
.

"Resurrexhaustion," Zara said
.

Uncle winced
.

"At least that's the term I invented to describe it,” Zara continued, “…hasn't quite caught on with the older members of our profession. Anyway, it happens to all of us the first time."

"Some of us," Cenick corrected
.

".
.. All of us," Zara repeated, "A
nyway, nothing to worry about. You'll be fine after a night's rest."

"Indeed," Uncle Tinjin said, "all the more reason for us to be leaving him to it."

The three necromancers bid Garrett good night and turned to go
.

"Cenick," Garrett called out, "can I ask you a question?"

"Certainly, Garrett. What is it?"

Garrett waited until Uncle and Zara were out of earshot. "You know about fairies, right?"

"Some, yes."

"Do you know what they eat?"

Cenick smiled sadly, an expression that looked like pain on his rune-marked face. He crossed the room to stand beside Lampwicke's cage. He stood in silence for a moment, watching her sleep
.

"Do you know where fairies came from, Garrett?" Cenick asked
.

"The southern forests?"

Cenick nodded. "Do you know how they were made?"

Garrett shrugged his shoulders
.

Cenick took a moment to drag the chair from beside the window and sat down next to the bed. "Long ago," he said, "when the world was whole and new, the dragons were a great and beautiful race..."

Garrett shifted uncomfortably in his bed
.

"They weren't always as they are now, Garrett. The dragons were the creators of beauty. Through Dragonsong, they could call into existence creatures of pure magic."

"What's Dragonsong?" Garrett asked
.

"They sang their magic, Garrett," he said, and his eyes softened, looking far away
.

"So the words were magical?" Garrett said, "Uncle told me that the words weren't important."

"All words are important, Garrett... What Uncle meant was that we humans don't use magic that way. We possess a binding will that controls the magic we find in the world around us. We cannot make it ourselves. We cannot call magic into being with our words. The dragons could."

"So the dragons made fairies?" Garrett asked
.

"And all the Fae folk," Cenick said, "Thus the Fae are not bound by the same rules as mortal men and beasts."

"So, they don't need to eat?" This idea appealed to Garrett. Perhaps Lampwicke would not be so hard to care for after all
.

"They do not eat food as we do," Cenick said
.

"Then what do they eat?"

Cenick's broad shoulders slumped and his lips tightened. "They live on hope, Garrett."

"Huh?"

"A fairy will live as long as it has hope. They love stories and songs and new experiences... Denied those things, they will fade and die."

Garrett looked at the little fairy asleep in her cage. He felt sick
.

"How am I supposed to feed her that?"

"A captive fairy can live for a long time on the hope she has left," Cenick said, "but eventually..."

"What if I let her go?" Garrett asked, "How do I let her go?"

"I do not know a way, Garrett. She is bound by vampire magic. The vampires know some of the old songs. They cannot make new things, but they can bind and control the old."

"I'll ask Marla then," Garrett said, "She'll know what to do."

Cenick smiled. "Get some rest, Garrett. You made a fine zombie today."

"Thanks, Cenick," Garrett said
.

"Good night, Garrett."

Cenick pulled the door shut behind him. Garrett rolled onto his side and watched Lampwicke sleep.

****

"Raise your left leg, Caleb" Garrett commanded
.

Garrett's zombie looked at him, his expression unreadable. He lifted his left foot a few inches off the kitchen floor
.

"You see?" Garrett said
.

Uncle harrumphed and sipped his tea
.

Garrett frowned. Tom, the kitchen zombie shambled over to lay a plate of scorched eggs in front of Garrett
.

"Tom," he said, forgetting Uncle's policy on naming the servants, "raise your left leg."

Tom stared at him and then looked slowly down at his boots. Ancient sinews creaked as the kitchen zombie lifted his right foot
.

Tom raised his head to look at Garrett again, and then fell over sideways. The tea tray balanced on the edge of the countertop followed him to the floor with a crash
.

Uncle regarded Garrett in stony silence, taking another sip of tea
.

"After you are done cleaning that up," Uncle said, "you can join me in the library. We can then discuss your zombie's remarkable sense of balance." He stood, shaking his head at the fallen kitchen zombie, and walked from the room
.

Garrett grinned as he helped Tom get to his feet. The zombie stumbled back to his corner at Garrett's command, and the boy got to work. He knelt down to pick up the wet shards of a broken teacup. He reached for one that had skittered further away than the rest, and was suddenly aware that Caleb was standing above him
.

It occurred to Garrett that he hadn't told Caleb to stop standing on one foot. Zombies weren't supposed to think for themselves. He hoped that was a good thing
.

Caleb looked down at him, tilting his head slightly in puzzlement
.

"You wanna help?" Garrett asked
.

Caleb stooped and reached for the broken piece. He swayed a little, bracing himself with his free hand against the wooden cabinet. Caleb's bloodless fingers closed upon the shard, feeling at it, not quite grasping it
.

Caleb moaned, sounding almost frustrated
.

"You can do it, Caleb!" Garrett said
.

Caleb's brow furrowed. He had a face that had probably been accustomed to laughter from the look of it, his hair, curly and red, his eyes green. Garrett wondered what sort of person he had been before the Watchers got him
.

Uncle had dressed Caleb in the standard gray doublet and hose worn by the other servants. Zombie attire was a matter of personal taste among necromancers. Cenick kept his servants dressed in rich funerary garb and beaten gold death masks. Zara preferred black hooded robes. Jitlowe dressed his zombies as a carnival troupe, much to Uncle's disapproval
.

Caleb's fingertips at last gripped the shard, and he gave a little groan of triumph
.

"Good job, boy!" Garrett said. He held out his hand, and Caleb deposited the shard in his open palm
.

Garrett rose and tossed the broken cup into the dust pail. Caleb leaned against the counter, standing up with deliberate slowness
.

Garrett smiled at his zombie. "Let's go show Uncle what you can do!"

"Happy birthday, Garrett!" Warren said. The ghoul held out a bundle of stained
grave
cloth. He had been waiting for Garrett at their regular meeting place, a junction in the tunnels beneath the old library
.

"Thanks," Garrett said, stopping to take the gift. He passed his witchfire torch to the ghoul to free up his hands. "Did Uncle tell you it was my birthday?"

"Yeah," Warren said, "I brought the body to the house myself. Your uncle had my dad looking for a good deader all last week. Thought we were gonna have to dig one up at the last minute, but dad came through with a fresh one just in time."

Garrett finally managed to work loose the rough knots holding the bundle together, and the package spilled open. Inside lay what looked like a polished black stone a little larger than a finger. It was oblong, broken at one end, and tapered to a point. An uneasy feeling crept over him as he looked at it
.

"What is it?" Garrett asked
.

"A tooth," Warren said, "Dragon tooth, I think. At least it came out of a dragon slayer, so it stands to reason..."

"A dragon slayer?"

"Yeah, Sir Somethingerother, I don't remember," Warren said, "He had a narvy sword too, but my cousin got that."

Garrett touched the tooth with his fingertip. Even through his glove, he could feel its chill. The skin on the back of his neck tingled, and his face flushed, painfully warm. He quickly wrapped the tooth up again and put it in his pocket. Warren passed the torch back to him
.

"Thanks, Warren," he said, "I wish I could have gone to the catacombs with you."

"Yeah, it was pretty fun... well, it would have been more fun without Norris."

"Your cousin?"

"Yeah, he's always goin' on about the old ways and how they do things down south. If dad wasn't watchin', I'da kicked him in the down south."

"Oh, did you see anything else?"

"Yeah, lots o' stuff," Warren said, "Tell me how the rezzing went."

"Pretty good, I think," Garrett said
.

"So the zombie didn't go crazy and try to kill you or anything?"

"No."

"Oh," Warren sounded a little disappointed, "well where is he? Didn't you bring him?"

"No," Garrett said, "Uncle had to take Caleb to the temple to get him registered."

"Caleb?"

"Yeah," Garrett said, "that's what I named him."

"Caleb?" Warren wrinkled his snout. "Why not name him something really vile, like Deathreaver or Bonegrinder?"

"I dunno," Garrett said, "I just liked Caleb."

Warren shook his head. "Well, what do you want to do today?"

"Can we go to the catacombs?"

"You mean the both of us sneak down there by ourselves without my dad knowing?"

"Yeah," Garrett said slowly
.

"Hah! I enjoy living too much! Not a chance," Warren said
.

"It's not that dangerous, is it?"

"Yes, it is," Warren said, "but that's not what I'm afraid of. My dad would kill me dead if I went down there without permission."

"Oh," Garrett sighed, "you wanna go explore the Old City?"

"Sure," Warren said, turning toward the mouth of a downward-sloping tunnel
.

"I need to stop by the market first though," Garrett said
.

"What for?" Warren groaned
.

"It'll only take a minute."

"You're going to see that vampire girl, aren't you?"

"Hey!" Garrett said, "Marla gave me a really nice present, and I just wanted to say thanks."

"Really?" Warren cocked his ears to a sarcastic angle, "What'd she get you?"

Garrett hesitated, his voice low, "
A
fairy."

"A what?"

"A fairy," Garrett repeated,
louder
this time
.

Warren burst into laughter, clutching his sides as he leaned against the tunnel wall. "Well," he managed to say at last, "we'd better go and thank her then!"

Garrett grumbled as the two of them headed up the tunnel toward the market. After a moment, he spoke again, "When is
your
birthday, Warren?"

"Oh," Warren said, "ghouls don't celebrate birthdays, only deathdays."

"Well how do you know when your deathday is?"

"You don't."

****

Garrett emerged from one of the many underground entrances hidden among the city's back alleys. He slipped through the narrow
gap between the corners of the
Dervish
alehouse
and the silk merchant's stall and stepped into the gray light of mid-morning
.

He made his way through the jostling crowds to the narrow lane of curious little magic shops. The shutters were drawn shut in the window of Mrs. Veranu's pet store. Nevertheless, Garrett knew, as the sign on the door assured him, they were open for business
.

The doorbells jingled as Garrett let himself in. He was careful to shut the door quickly, letting in as little light as possible
.

"Hello?" he called out as his eyes adjusted to the dim interior of the shop
.

"Garrett?" Mrs. Veranu's voice answered, "We're in the back. Please join us."

Garrett glanced around at the many tiny creatures locked in their cages on shelves or hooks. Fairy wings fluttered and tiny frilled chameleons flared their ruffs at him. He let himself through the gate and stepped behind the counter. He jumped when a bright red lizard in a silver cage hissed suddenly. He gave it a nasty look and hurried through the rune-marked curtain into the back room
.

Marla and her mother were kneeling on the floor, pinning a squirming furry creature down with their hands and knees
.

Marla greeted him, smiling, a wisp of her dark hair fallen across one eye. Her gray coveralls were rolled down to her waist, revealing a white linen undershirt that left her arms and shoulders bare. Garrett's heart leapt in his chest and he could only grin mutely in response
.

Mrs. Veranu smiled up at him as well,
but
so taken was he by her daughter's beauty, he did not at first realize that Mrs. Veranu wasn't wearing her scarf. Mrs. Veranu's eyes were sparkling and mischievous as ever, but Garrett drew back at the sight of her fanged teeth, bared in a wide grin
.

"Oh... hi, Mrs. Veranu," he stammered, hoping to cover his embarrassment. If she had noticed his reaction, she gave no sign
.

"Give us a hand here Garrett," she said, thinning her smile to an almost human appearance
.

"Sure," he said, "
What
do you want me to do?"

"You see the collar on the table there?" she asked
.

"Yeah."

"Bring it here and lock it around the neck of this trilbette while Marla and I hold him down."

Garrett had no idea what a trilbette was. Judging from the look of it, it was a beast the size of a large dog, covered in brown fur, and possessing a long, wet proboscis. It didn't look too dangerous, but, if it took two vampires to hold it down, it had to be strong
.

Garrett picked up the collar from the table. The thick silver band looked heavier than it proved to be. Its surface gleamed with intricate filigree and interlocking circular runes. The trilbette's eyes went wide at the sight of it
.

"Bring the collar, please, Garrett," Mrs. Veranu said. Her sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, and Garrett could see the muscles of her forearms tense and strain to hold the thrashing creature to the floor. "Quickly, if you will."

Garrett hastened to her side and cautiously stepped over the struggling trilbette, straddling it. He knelt and slipped the open ends of the interlocking collar over the creature's throat
.

"No, please!" a small, squeaky voice called out. The creature looked up at him, its wide golden eyes filled with panic
.

Garrett froze. The trilbette could talk
.

"Now, Garrett!" Mrs. Veranu shouted
.

Garrett gasped, stung into action. The collar snapped closed around the trilbette's neck. It slumped motionless on the floor
.

Garrett stumbled away from the creature, feeling a little sick
.

"Thanks, Garrett," Marla said, placing a cool hand on his shoulder
.

"I... uh, happy to help," he said
.

"Well done, Garrett," Mrs. Veranu sighed, rising to her feet. She looked down at the collared trilbette. "Back in your crate," she commanded
.

The trilbette rose, its eyes half-lidded, and plodded slowly toward a large wooden crate with a splintered side. The creature's long nails skritched on the hardwood floor as it walked
.

"What is that thing?" Garrett asked
.

"A trilbette," Marla answered as though that explained everything. Garrett watched as she dusted herself off and buttoned up her coveralls
.

"I mean what's it for?"

"Nothing much really." Marla shrugged. "A customer wanted one for a pet and placed an order with us."

"So it'll be all right then?" Garrett asked, "They're not gonna hurt it or anything?"

Marla turned and regarded him for a moment, a little smile on her lips. "He'll be all right, Garrett."

"Oh... good," he said
.

"Now, Garrett," Mrs. Veranu said, "how can we help you?"

"Oh," he said, "I wanted to say thanks for the fairy."

Mrs. Veranu nodded. "A Carrowyn Songfae," she said, "Marla picked that one out for you."

"Thanks, Marla," Garrett said, "She's really amazing."

Marla smiled, looking a little embarrassed
.

"I see you're a member of the club now." Marla's mother grinned
.

"Huh? Oh this?" Garrett lifted his fingers to the golden amulet on his chest. "Yeah, I'm Uncle's apprentice now... officially."

"You couldn't ask for a better teacher," Mrs. Veranu said, her eyes looking far away
.

"Um, yeah, he's great."

"Well," Mrs. Veranu said as she slapped the dust from her knees, "I'd better write Ambassador Chaille a note to let him know his trilbette has arrived."

Mrs. Veranu swept from the room with the speed and grace peculiar to the vampire race. A moment of silence hung in the air between Garrett and Marla. He smiled, and she smiled back, her eyes drifting in search of a suitable topic of conversation
.

Garrett cleared his throat. "I...
thanks again for the fairy," he said
.

"Yeah," Marla said, "Everything all right with it? I mean, do you have any questions? About the fairy... or anything?"

Garrett chewed his lip, considering the wording of his question. "What if... say I wanted to let the fairy out of the cage for a bit, you know, to let her fly around the room?"

Marla shook her head. "You'd never be able to catch it again."

"Oh, yeah... I was just wondering about what if I ever did want to let her out." Garrett shuffled his foot to study his boot heel with some intensity, not daring to look her in the eyes
.

"Oh..." Marla said, "I understand. It's very sweet of you to want to set it free, but Garrett, it's only a fairy."

"Yeah," Garrett said, "so there's no way then?"

Marla put her hand on his shoulder. "Garrett," she said, "every animal in this shop has been wyrdbound. They can never be free again."

"Word bound?"

"Wyrdbonding is a sort of magic..." Marla's lips tightened, and she took on that schoolmistress look she favored when trying to explain something that seemed completely obvious only to her
.

"You see," she said, "these are all Fae creatures. They were sung into being by the great dragons long ago. The wyrd made them, and the wyrd can command them."

"So you speak Draconic?" Garrett asked
.

Marla's eyes flicked toward the curtain door, and her voice lowered. "I speak a little."

Garrett lowered his voice as well. "So you know the words to control magic creatures?"

Marla's nose wrinkled the way it did when she tried to simplify a complex answer. At last she just shrugged and nodded
.

"So..." Garrett said, "if you can bind them with a word, couldn't you set them free with a word?"

A shuffling noise from the front of the shop made Marla jump. She shook her head and leaned close to Garrett. "I'm not supposed to talk about this," she whispered
.