The Necromancer's Nephew Page 9

  "Yes, my queen, my mother's blood."

  "Ah, well," she said, her face unreadable, "you had better make it a very special garden then."

  The goblin nodded frantically and then bounded away across the courtyard, leaving them alone.

  "A blood rose!" Marla gasped.

  "What is it?" Garrett asked.

  She looked at him, searching for words. She spoke at last, "I think our goblin is very old indeed. This one was made, not born. If his mother had been a goblin, her blood wouldn't have done anything when she died. If he was first-generation, his mother would have been..."

  "A dragon?" Garrett asked.

  Marla nodded.

  "What is a blood flower?" he asked.

  "Only the blood of the most powerful magical creatures would grow a blood rose," she said, "What he calls his mother would have to have been the dragon that sang him into being."

  Garrett cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, Marla," he said, "but the ghost asked me not to tell you what the flower was. I didn't know why it was important, but she was afraid that another vampire might find out about it."

  Marla narrowed her eyes.

  "I didn't want to keep it a secret from you," he said, "it's just... please promise me you won't tell anyone else. It seemed really important to her."

  Marla looked away. "I don't know Garrett..."

  "Why would other vampires want the flower anyway?" he asked, "I mean, it doesn't really have blood in it, does it?"

  Marla frowned and looked at him again. "Not exactly," she said, "but some of the dragon's power, and some of its memories are bound to the plant that grew up where its blood was spilled on the earth. So much of that world has been lost forever. I don't know if we have the right to let this piece of it wither away in the darkness."

  "What would you do with it if you had it?" Garrett asked.

  "I would give it to my mother, and she would give it to the elders. They would take it back to Thrinaar where it would be kept safe and studied."

  "Thrinaar?"

  "Our home city," she said, "I was born there."

  "Ah," Garrett said, "I guess... I mean… it's important to me that you don't tell anyone. I wasn't supposed to let anyone know."

  "But you didn't," Marla said, "I found out for myself."

  "I know... it's just, I don't know... it feels wrong. I think the ghost knows how to take care of the flower. I don't think she'd let it die."

  Marla looked troubled. "All right," she said, "I won't say anything... for now."

  "Thanks, Marla."

  She smiled at him.

  They turned to meet Warren as he came bounding up the dusty lane toward them. "Sorry guys," he said, "I gotta take you back now."

  "What's wrong?" Garrett asked.

  "The Chadiri have declared war on Astorra," Warren said, "We've all been summoned to a meeting tonight."

  "Who’s Astorra?" Garrett asked.

  "It's a kingdom to the north," Marla said.

  "Are they our friends?"

  Warren snorted in response.

  "Not exactly," Marla said, 'but now they are our enemy's enemy. This could be very good news."

  "Can they beat the Chadiri?" Garrett asked.

  "Dunno," Warren said, "but at least we might have a chance against 'em now. Anyway, I need to take you both back to the surface so I can make the meeting. I'm supposed to see that you get to your uncle right away."

  Garrett and Marla followed the ghoul as he led them out of Marrowvyn. By the time they reached the tunnel beneath the market and wrenched open the door to the surface, the light of day had already begun to fade.

  "Thank you for a lovely time," Marla said, "both of you." Her smile made Garrett's stomach flutter a little.

  "Yeah," Warren said, "thanks for the uh... spider thing, you know."

  "Thanks for everything," Garrett said.

  Marla nodded, and a strand of dark hair fell across her eyes. Garrett's fingers ached to brush it back.

  "Perhaps we could do this again sometime," Marla said.

  "Yeah, I'd like that," Garrett said.

  Warren groaned impatiently.

  "You don't have to wait, Warren," Garrett said, "I can find my way back from here."

  "No way!" Warren scoffed, "Dad said to see you home right away, and I'd like to keep my hide intact, thank you!"

  "All right," Garrett said, turning to face Marla again, "I had a really good time today."

  "So did I," she said.

  "I, uh, hope that..." Garrett stepped forward, leaning close. The flowery scent of Marla's hair sent a warm tingle through his skin.

  "Yes?" Marla whispered, leaning toward him, her eyes questioning.

  "I..." Garrett's hand lifted to the edge of his hood. If he pulled it back just a little...

  Marla's lips parted slightly.

  Garrett's heart hammered in his chest. He steeled his will to take the chance.

  "Cramps, Garrett! Will you stop trying to see her fangs? Let's go!" Warren said.

  Marla drew back, her hand clamped over her mouth. Her cheeks flushed red, and she turned and fled into the twilight alleyway.

  "Marla!" Garrett called after her, but she moved too fast.

  "Can we go now?" Warren asked.

  Garrett turned, took three steps toward his friend and punched him in the nose.

  Warren stumbled back, more stunned than hurt. His eyes flashed red and his lips curled back over his long teeth. The ghoul’s breath exploded in a hissing growl, and his fur bristled.

  Garrett set his feet and raised his fists. He tried to speak, but only a feral snarl came out.

  Warren blinked and shook his head. Slowly his fur drooped and his massive shoulders relaxed. He took a step back.

  "Come on, let's go!"

  Garrett lowered his fists, retreaved his fallen torch, and followed his friend into the darkness of the tunnel.

  Chapter Twelve

  Garrett mounted the basement steps, still angry with Warren. The ghoul had left him on the subterranean doorstep to Uncle's manor house and disappeared into the shadows without a word.

  Most of all, Garrett worried what Marla thought of him now, and wished he had either just said goodbye or been a little quicker with his attempted kiss.

  His feet hurt, and his knuckles ached. He had never hit anyone before, not really. The rational side of his brain told him that Warren could have easily torn him apart, if it had come to that. Still, he could not quite bring himself to regret hitting his friend.

  He whispered the command word, "Telu," and his witchfire torch snuffed out. Garrett placed it in a sconce upon the wall. He swung open the door and stepped into the ground floor hallway.

  The indistinct sounds of conversation carried from the parlor, and Garrett made his way toward his uncle's voice.

  "...you sure you don't want to come with us?" Zara was saying as Garrett rapped politely at the open door.

  Uncle turned and motioned Garrett inside. Zara and Cenick nodded at him, smiling.

  "It will be just like old times, Uncle," Zara added.

  Uncle Tinjin shook his head. "No," he said, "I have some things to attend here. War is for young brigands like the two of you."

  "We could use the help, Uncle," Cenick said, "This may be our best chance at winning this."

  "Hmn," Uncle mused, "The Chadiri are no fools. They will be expecting something like this. I wish you boys would reconsider."

  "Sorry Uncle." Zara grinned. "This is too much fun to pass up!"

  "And his little priestess will be there, so you haven't got a chance at dissuading him anyway," Cenick laughed.

  Zara pulled a frown. "Well, in any case, I'll finally get to see how the sisterhood makes a skelly."

  "They'll probably put up a curtain just to keep you from peeking!" Cenick said.

  Zara grinned. "As if that would stop me."

  "You'd better be careful whose drapes you go lifting," Cenick said, "The priestesses are not known for their forgiving natures."<
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  "They are, however, known for their punctuality," Uncle interjected with a nod toward the clock.

  "Oh, crix!" Zara said, "We should be going. Uncle?"

  "We won't be joining you tonight," Uncle Tinjin said, placing his hand on Garrett's shoulder, give my regards to the ghouls... and to your priestess."

  "Goodnight, Uncle," Zara said as he pulled on his hooded outer robe.

  "We'll stop by before we leave the city," Cenick said.

  "Be careful boys," Uncle said, "Don't get too... patriotic."

  Zara grinned broadly and tugged his hood over his eyes. Cenick nodded at Garrett, as the two young men took their leave.

  Uncle sighed and slumped into a nearby chair. Garrett sat opposite him on an oversized ottoman, saying nothing.

  Uncle rubbed his hand over the gray stubble of his chin, grimacing. He looked at Garrett. "What's wrong, boy?"

  Garrett remained silent for a moment. "I hit Warren," he said.

  Uncle's nose wrinkled. "Why ever would you do such a thing?"

  "I don't know. He just..."

  "Just what?"

  "He embarrassed me in front of Marla..."

  "Oh," Uncle said, "Did you hit him in front of her?"

  "No, she ran off before that," Garrett said.

  "Ah... did Warren hit you back?"

  "No. I don't think I really hurt him."

  "Well, that remains to be seen, I suppose," Uncle said, "but ghouls are tougher than little girls, so we'll start with Marla first."

  "What should I do?"

  Uncle smiled. "Get some rest for now, son. We'll sort this out in the morning."

  Garrett smiled.

  "Something funny?" Uncle asked.

  "You called me son just now," Garrett said.

  "Hmn, I suppose I did," Uncle said, "Does that bother you?"

  "No," Garrett said, "I kinda like it."

  ****

  Garrett woke the next morning to the sound of a knock at his bedroom door.

  "Come in," he said, rubbing his eyes in the gray light of dawn.

  Uncle swung the door open and stepped inside. Garrett's zombie followed close behind him.

  "Caleb!" Garrett said.

  The zombie was carrying a large bouquet of purple flowers.

  "What are those for?" Garrett asked.

  "Those are for your lady friend," Uncle said with a little smile, "I took the liberty of selecting some for you."

  "You think she'll like them?" Garrett asked.

  "I think it's likely she will," Uncle said, "Oh, your zombie is fully registered now. The registrars were quite impressed with him."

  "Thanks for taking him," Garrett said, getting out of bed to pull the flowers from Caleb's stiff grip.

  "You should take him with you when you go this morning."

  "Go where?" Garrett asked.

  "The Thrinnian Embassy, of course," Uncle said.

  "I've never been there. Won't Marla be at the shop anyway?"

  "Not today," Uncle said, "The shop was closed when I went by there this morning."

  "Is something wrong?" Garrett asked.

  Uncle shrugged. "With the vampires, something is always wrong. If this were any other family, I would discourage your friendship with them."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Marla and her mother... they are unlike any other vampires I have ever met... with the exception of Marla's father. He was a good friend."

  "What happened to her father?" Garrett asked.

  Uncle dragged the chair from Garrett's desk and sat down. He stared at his hands for a long moment before speaking again. "He sacrificed his life to protect his people. He faced his fate bravely, and I am proud to have known such a man."

  "Who killed him?"

  "A dragon."

  Garrett's skin went cold. "Were you there?"

  "No," Uncle said, "He asked me to look after his wife and baby daughter. He feared what might become of them if they remained in Thrinaar without him. I escaped the city with them and brought them here. I have looked in on them from time to time ever since."

  "Is the dragon looking for them still?" Garrett asked, a slight tremor in his voice.

  Uncle looked at him and smiled. "No, I don't believe so," he said, "but there are worse things than dragons in this world. Sometimes the greatest danger lurks behind a friendly smile. Don't forget that."

  "Sure," Garrett said.

  "Well, it's best to get these things over quickly, boy. Dress your finest and go and meet your fate!"

  Chapter Thirteen

  Garrett stood before the Thrinnian Embassy, and folded the map that Uncle had given him. He placed it inside the pocket of Caleb's vest. Uncle had supplied the zombie with a sturdy set of boots, an old vest, and a belt, complete with several pouches, full of various useful items. The zombie could almost pass for a living boy if you didn't look too closely at him.

  The high, windowless walls of the embassy towered above them, built of solid blocks of onyx stone, polished until the whole wall shone like a black mirror. The gate was set deep into a shadowy recess in the center of the wall. The mahogany door, paneled with blood-red amber, stood twice as tall as a man, but only a little wider than Garrett's shoulders. Hundreds of tiny hexagonal runes honeycombed the door's face, and an ebony ring hung at the end of a long red rope from a shadowy murder-hole directly above.

  Garrett smoothed the front of his indigo silk robe and checked the fit of his black velvet gloves. He took the bouquet back from Caleb who had carried it since leaving the manor house. He worked up his courage and pulled the bell rope. Garrett half expected to be showered with boiling oil or a bucket of spiders, but instead a low mournful gong sounded from deep inside the walls of the embassy.

  He stepped back into the gray sunlight and waited.

  "I hope they're home," Garrett said.

  Caleb groaned and looked at him. A large black field locust buzzed down to rest on Caleb's forehead, and the zombie crossed his eyes to stare at it.

  "I hope it's not gonna be another bug year." Garrett shuddered. "I hate those things."

  Caleb slowly reached up and clasped his hand over the huge bug. It buzzed as he pulled it away from his face to look at it. The zombie's lip curled in distaste, and he tossed it away with a stiff motion of his arm.

  Garrett looked at his zombie and smiled. He opened his mouth to speak, but a muffled unlatching sound drew his attention back to the red paneled door. The door swung open with a dull scraping noise, leaving only a tall patch of inky darkness in the center of the glossy black wall.

  "Hello?" Garrett called out, taking a step toward the open doorway.

  "Who are you?" spoke the dry, thin voice of a man from somewhere within, "Make yourself known and your business with the ambassadors."

  "My name is Garrett, and I've come to speak with Marla Veranu. I'm a friend of hers."

  "What is your business with m'lady?"

  "I... I brought her some flowers."

  Silence answered, followed by a strange clicking sound. At last the man spoke again, "Are you a delivery boy?"

  "I'm a necromancer," Garrett said, straightening his back, "and... I want to apologize to her for something."

  The man made a low hissing noise. "Come inside."

  Garrett hefted his bundle of flowers and stepped toward the doorway. "Come on, Caleb."

  "Your... pet remains outside!" the voice within hissed.

  "Oh," Garrett said, "all right. Caleb, wait here until I get back."

  The zombie moaned and furrowed his brow.

  "I'll be all right, Caleb. Just wait over there." Garrett pointed to a spot beside the gate.

  Caleb's shoulders sagged as he slouched over to stand against the wall.

  Garrett nodded at him and stepped into the shadowy doorway of the Thrinnian Embassy.

  The amber-clad door creaked shut behind him, sealing out all traces of sunlight and leaving Garrett in total darkness.

  The blackness smelled of old, dry herb
s. Garrett could hear a slight shuffling somewhere nearby and then a sniffing sound. He suddenly felt very cold.

  "Hello?" Garrett said.

  "Freelander, eh?" the vampire said, "Not many of you left now, are there?"

  "I guess," Garrett said, looking around, his eyes straining to see anything.

  The vampire sniffed again, closer now. "Burned... badly burned."

  Garrett remained silent.

  "Ah," the vampire said, sounding surprised, "where did you find those?"

  "Find what?" Garrett asked.

  "The flowers. I haven't smelled duskbloom in many years."

  "I brought them for Marla," Garrett said.

  "Young Lady Veranu," the vampire whispered, "yes, she will like those, I think."

  "I hope so," Garrett said, "I think I hurt her feelings yesterday, and I wanted to apologize."

  "It would be unwise to grieve the young lady," the vampire said, his voice low, almost a growl.

  "I didn't mean to, and I'm really sorry if I did." Garrett said. He wanted to ask the vampire to light a lamp, but was almost too afraid to see what the light might reveal.

  The vampire sniffed again. "Sorrow, and fear... good. You have been warned. Remember that."

  The vampire suddenly drew a heavy black cloth from atop a glowing crystal orb set on a narrow pedestal. The room filled with a pale, shimmering light, revealing a tall, thin man, dressed in black boots and trousers and a tailed coat. His face seemed too narrow and his jaw and ears a little too long. His skin shone ghostly white, and his bald head almost glowed in the light of the strange orb.

  The walls of the moderately sized entryway were of amber, carved into countless swirling runes of all sizes. The ebony pedestal on which the orb sat and an unused coat rack were the only furniture.

  The vampire gave a quick, birdlike tilt of his head and smiled.

  The sight of the vampire's long yellow teeth chilled Garrett to the core, but he did his best to hide his reaction.

  "I will notify the young lady of your arrival, master Garrett."

  "Thank you, sir." Garrett said.

  The vampire inclined his head slightly then turned, pressing his long-fingered hand against a certain rune on the wall. A section of the wall separated with a click and swung open on a concealed hinge. The vampire disappeared into the blackness beyond, and the secret door sealed seamlessly shut behind him.