The Necromancer's Nephew (8 page)

"Nuna?" Norris cocked his head to one side
.

"Nuna yer business, Norris!" Warren growled
.

Norris looked away, laughing. It was not the manic cackle common to the ghouls that Garrett had met, but a dry, hissing sort of laugh. "Really, cousin, no call to be rude. I was hopin' we could spend a bit more time together before I have to leave, so I came lookin' for you, and here you were... with friends."

"Yeah," Warren said, stepping between Marla and Garrett and draping his long arms over their shoulders, "I like to spend time with my friends. So, good seein' ya, Norris."

Marla's brow furrowed, but she managed a crooked smile as she glanced at Garrett. He gathered she had never been this close to a ghoul before. Their aroma took some getting used to
.

"Ah, your necromancer friend.
" Norris tilted his head toward Ga
rrett.
"Handy in a fight ain't he?"

Garrett's glove leather creaked as his fists tightened. Warren let out a warning growl
.

Norris sniffed loudly as though catching a scent. "And the vampiress." He bowed before Marla with surprising grace. "My apologies, Dark One."

Marla stiffened, her eyes hard. After a moment, she nodded at the white ghoul. "All is forgiven," she said, "I trust that I did not injure you?"

Norris flashed his unnerving smile once again. "Quite well, quite well," he said, "No harm at all."

"We're so glad of that," Warren said flatly, "Well, we'd better get going."

"Shame you're not going to Marrowvyn," Norris crooned
.

"Garrett's seen it already," Warren said, guiding his friends farther away from his cousin
.

"But I chance your vampire friend has not," Norris said
.

"Marrowvyn?" Marla asked
.

Warren groaned
.

"It's where they live," Garrett said, "the ghouls of Wythr."

"Yes!" Norris said, "T
he great burrow of the city ghouls... not to be missed."

"I'll show her some other day," Warren said
.

"But the King is givin’ a speech today!" Norris said with a snickering laugh
.

"The King?" Garrett asked, "I didn't know you guys had a King."

Warren rubbed a paw over his face. "He doesn't come out very often. He's crazy. He's not even a ghoul."

"Such disrespec
t for royalty!" Norris chuckled.
"Have you no loyalty to your King?"

"We only made the goblin king because we thought it was funny," Warren said
.

"A goblin!" Marla said, "You have a real goblin?"

"Indeed they do," Norris said
.

"What's so special about a goblin?" Garrett asked.

Marla turned to him. "There are hardly any of them left!" she said, "Most of them died in the war between men and dragons."

"Oh," Garrett said, "Whose side were they on?"

"The dragons' of course."

"So they're Fae creatures too?" Garrett asked.

"Sort of," she said, "T
he dragons made them, but it was after the death of their mother. Their songs were twisted with grief and rage. Everything they made after that came out... wrong."

"All the dragons had the same mother?"

"Yes," she said.

"What happened to her?"

Marla gave him an exasperated look.

"She drowned herself in a puddle after having to listen to too much boring history stuff," Warren moaned, "Can we get going?"

"Can we go see the goblin?" Marla asked, looking from Garrett to Warren and back again. The pleading look in her eyes made Garrett go a little weak in the knees.

Warren's glare had no such effect on him
.

"If anyone offers you a pie," Garrett whispered, "don't eat it."

"I don't eat pies," Marla answered.

"Good," he said, "don't start now."

The town of Marrowvyn had once been an above-ground quarter of the city of Wythr. At some point in the past, masons had arched over and buried the entire district beneath the streets and manor houses of the new Foreign District. Above, visitors and ambassadors from every corner of the world went about their business, unaware of the hundreds of ghouls that scrabbled and feasted in the tunnels beneath their feet.

The gray haze of countless little cooking fires hid the high vaulted ceiling from view. The r
ed
glow of the flames glittered in the eyes of countless ghouls that now lifted from their
pie making
to watch Marla and Garrett with keen interest.

Norris made a rude sort of hissing noise. "Pies!" he said, "It ain't right, you know."

"Then don't eat." Warren said.

"What's wrong with fresh meat?" Norris whined.

"Not much fresh meat around here," Warren said, "and anyway, I like pie."

Norris shuddered. "It ain't right."

The ghouls of Marrowvyn soon lost interest in the visitors and returned to their stooped preparations for the midday meal. Garrett and his friends made their way through the broad, zigzagging lanes, stepping over bits of crumbled masonry here and there. The ghouls did not bother to maintain the old town.

They passed by a jagged-edged hole in a brick storefront from which a rhythmic chopping sound could be heard. Marla peered inside as they walked by,
and then
visibly recoiled. Garrett looked in to see an old ghoul in a leather apron smiling at him. The ghoul held a rusty cleaver poised in one massive paw. A pile of meat on the scarred wooden table before him still bore too much resemblance to something that might have been walking around, conducting business on the streets above not too long ago.

They hurried along quickly, and presently began to hear the sound of an argument. No, not an argument, but a one-sided tirade
.

A rasping, panicked voice cried out, imploring others to action. "You must find it! You must find the thief!"

The voice sounded almost human, but there was a buzzing undertone to each word. As Garrett drew closer to the, as yet unseen, speaker, the more alien seemed its tone
.

The three friends followed Norris through a large stone arch. Its iron gates lay rusting on the dusty cobbles of the ancient lane
.

Old buildings ringed what had once been a broad courtyard. Vast support columns grew up through their broken facades like stone trees
, disappearing into the darkness high above.
A
low fire burn
ed
in the dry bowl of what had once been the town's fountain
.

Silhouetted against the flames sat a small, stooped figure with its face buried in its hands, weeping
.

Marla gasped, and the creature looked up. The goblin's oily gray skin stretched tightly over spindly limbs. It wore only a ragged shift that might have once been red. Its three-fingered hands and two-toed feet seemed overly large for
its
frame,
as did its wide, flat
head. Long, pointed ears framed its noseless face. The goblin's wide mouth hung open, revealing rows of needle sharp teeth, and its enormous golden eyes blinked in disbelief
.

The goblin king leapt toward them, and Garrett stepped unconsciously to place himself between Marla and the beast
.

Instead of attacking, the creature flung itself prostrate onto the ground before them. "Forgive me, my Queen!" it cried, "Forgive me!"

Warren snorted. "Well Garrett," he said, "it looks like you're the Queen now."

Garrett shot him an ugly look
.

Marla stepped past to kneel at the goblin's side
.

"
Siur'tha naellenu
," she said, placing her fingers on the goblin's trembling shoulders.

The goblin slowly lifted its head. Its wide amber-colored eyes blinked. A look of transcendent adoration spread over the creature's face
.

"My Queen..." it whispered
.

Marla smiled at him.
"My name is Marla," she said, "P
lease stand up."

The goblin pushed himself up to a kneeling position, his eyes still locked on Marla. "M... Ma...
my Queen," he said, "I beg your forgiveness."

"Forgiveness for what?" Marla asked
.

"I lost it," he whimpered, "It was stolen from me."

"Who stole what now?" Warren demanded
.

The goblin's eyes hardened as he glanced toward the ghoul. Then he looked back to Marla with a penitent face. "The flower, my Queen! An evil spirit has stolen it."

"You lost your flower?" Warren scoffed, "Is
that
what this is about?"

"Forgive me, my Queen! I have failed in my duty!"

Marla turned to Warren. "Do you know what he's talking about?"

"Yeah... sort of." Warren scratched at his head absently. "As long as my family has been in Marrowvyn, the King has always been here, and he's always been guarding some sort of sickly little weed."

"It is not a weed, fool!" the goblin's words were muffled as he pressed his face to the ground at Marla's feet
.

"Yeah... anyway, he's always had this... flower. Won't go anywhere without it. Guess he finally forgot where he set it down or something."

"I did not!" the goblin howled, lif
ting his head to bare his teeth.
"Anna Gree stole it from me!"

Warren laughed. "How'd that old ghost steal anything from you? She doesn't have any hands... not even ghost hands."

"I don't know how she did it!" the goblin hissed, "I didn't see her take it."

"How do you know she has it then?" Garrett asked
.

"I can feel it there with her," he answered, "She has taken it to the hurtful place where I cannot go."

"Who is Anna Gree?" Marla asked
.

"One of the ghosts that flits around in the Old City," Warren said, "We stay clear of her territory, but I don't really know why. Not like she can hurt us."

"Ghosts can't really think for themselves, can they?" Garrett asked, "They're like zombies, right?"

"They're nothing like zombies," Warren said, "You can't even eat a ghost."

Garrett frowned
.

"I've never met a real ghost before," Marla said, "Maybe we should go talk to her."

Warren burst out laughing, and Norris joined in with a wheezing snicker.

Marla looked to Garrett, a hurt look in her eyes
.

"Well, if you won't take her, I will," Garrett said
.

"You'd never find it on your own," Warren said, wiping his eye with the back of his paw
.

Norris’s eyes flashed in the firelight. "Don't trouble yourself, cousin," he said, "I’ll show ‘em the way."

Warren's face hardened. "How do you know the way?"

"I'm good with directions, and I like to explore."

Warren's upper lip curled back on one side, revealing a long yellow fang. "I'll take them."

"Of course, cousin," Norris dipped his head slightly, his sharp smile unnaturally wide
.

****

"Do you think your cousin's following us?" Garrett asked
.

"Yeah," Warren said without looking back at him
.

Garrett followed along in silence behind his friend. Marla was a few steps behind, looking a little uncomfortable whenever Garrett glanced back
.

Warren led them through a narrow, dripping fissure in the high crumbling wall that marked Marrowvyn's outer border. They emerged into another section of the old elvish ruins that lay buried even deeper
.

A pale, gauzy film hung over the egg-shaped doorways and windows of the ancient buildings. Cobwebs likewise obscured the brick arches that supported the new city above their heads. Warren paused when they reached a circular hub of lanes that fanned out in all directions. The ghoul sniffed the air. He grunted and picked the lane that grew thickest with spider webs and set toward it at once.

Garrett shared a nervous glance with Marla and then hurried to catch up with his friend.

They followed Warren further into the web-thick section of the Old City, and soon found themselves traversing through a tunnel thick with silk strands that glowed an eerie green in the glow of Garrett's witchfire torch. Garrett's boots sunk into the thick, spongy blanket of dusty silk that coated the ground.

"Uh, Warren," he called out, "I'm not sure we should be going this way."