The Frostwoven Crown (Book 4) (61 page)

A woman with the lower body of a black horse and long, dark hair regarded Garrett with sunken, hopeless eyes. Pale bite marks laced her dusky skin, and a silver collar had rubbed a raw patch upon her slender neck.

A giant serpent with half-shed scales still clinging to its body lifted its weary head, hissing softly past the silver ring bolted through its lower lip. It spared him only a brief glance before sinking back into its filthy bedding.

At least a dozen other fantastic creatures looked up from their pallets of dirty straw with hopelessness and confusion in their eyes.

“Have you come to end it, fiend?” the centauress whispered. She tugged her collar down to expose the chaffed skin of her throat. “End it then… please,” she rasped.

“Yes,” Garrett answered, his voice scarcely audible, “This ends now.”

Ghausse huddled in the hallway, whining in fear as the power of the Songreaver blasted from the room at the end of the hall, and the clatter of broken silver rattled upon the stones.

Garrett slipped on the hood of his new robe and admired his reflection in the polished mirror beside his wardrobe door. He reached over and picked up his new wooden staff, carved to order as a fairly accurate replica of Tinjin’s iron staff. The freshly buffed medallion on his chest gleamed in the lamplight.

“What do you think?” Garrett asked, turning to look at Caleb.

Caleb looked up from his book. He hadn’t stopped reading it at all in the month and a half since he had returned home with it. Garrett had never figured out where the zombie thief had found it, but it was written in a language that Garrett didn’t recognize, and since he guessed that John Kurtz, the dead young thief who had supplied Caleb’s body, had probably not been the scholarly sort, it was more than likely something that interested the spirit of the dead satyr thief that now shared Kurtz’s body.

Caleb took a moment to admire Garrett’s new clothes and grunted appreciatively before returning to his reading.

“Mister Marigold does good work, doesn’t he?” Garrett said.

Caleb ignored him.

“He asked about you,” Garrett said, “You know it might be nice if you paid him a visit again. He told me you were the best mannequin he ever had.”

Caleb let out a warning growl.

“Just kidding,” Garrett laughed, “Wish me luck.”

Caleb gave him a friendly moan but did not look up from his book.

“I’ll see you later,” Garrett said, heading out the door of his bedroom.

He had to step back into his bedroom to let a group of giggling Lethian children pass. They squealed in mock terror as Pendel the faun chased after them roaring with mock fury. Garrett grinned, watching them go as they disappeared down the hallway.

The muffled sound of music echoed up from the dining room below, and Garrett had to sidestep Pinny and Wudrou, the talking badger, who were chatting together on the landing at the base of the stairs.

“You look nice, Mister Garrett,” Pinny said, smiling up at him.

Wudrou smiled and nodded as Garrett greeted them both. The fur around Wudrou's neck had started to grow back, but in a wispy shade of gray, almost, it seemed, in memory of the silver collar that he had worn for so many years.

“Have you seen your sister?” Garrett asked.

“I think she was in the kitchen with Crane,” she said.

“Thanks,” Garrett said, lifting his foot to let a family of gamelons, what Shortgrass had called the little frilled lizards, pass by on their way to the parlor. The lizards had claimed the parlor for their own, building their nests inside and beneath Uncle Tinjin’s plush furniture. The little furry creatures, that Shortgrass had told him were called fairlings, had set up camp in Cenick’s old bedroom upstairs, though they shared the space with several of the younger Lethian children. So far neither group had complained about the arrangement.

A young fairy couple perched together on the bookshelf in the hall looked up to wave at him as he passed, and he greeted them as well. He was glad that a few of the fairies had decided to stay behind, their sense of adventure and duty to him overriding their fear of the twilight city. The rest had gone away south with Briassa, the centaur woman he had freed from the embassy, along with many of the city’s wisps, coaxed out of Queensgarden by the other fae creatures that Garrett had freed. Shortgrass had gone with them, promising to return as soon as he had delivered his report to the Amber Court, whatever that was.

Shine, the wisp that Garrett had freed from Klavicus’s orb now floated up from the basement and turned down the hall. She often wandered the house from room to room, eavesdropping on other people’s conversations and then drifting away again, reveling in her newfound mobility. Garrett smiled as she flared a golden greeting to him. He didn’t know why he thought of her now as a
she
, but it seemed appropriate to her gentle nature. Everyone else had become accustomed to her by now, and one of the younger children had given her the name Shine, and it had seemed to please her.

Warren and Terrick were walking down the side hall from the basement as Garrett passed, and Garrett leaned his staff against the wall and rushed to offer them a hand with the bundles of food they were carrying. Terrick, the young shaman that they had rescued from the temple dungeons, had taken up residence in Marrowvyn, along with the rest of his tribe, finding the ghouls much more welcoming neighbors than the denizens of Shadetree.

“Thank you, Garrett,” Terrick said, his voice still a rasping hiss even so long after the terrible injuries he had suffered at the hands of Matron Shelbie. The young Neshite passed one of his heavy nets full of dead quails to Garrett.

“If you want me to animate all these, you’re gonna have to get me a lot more essence,” Garrett said with mock sincerity.

“
Hah, hah
,” Warren said with mock humor, “Keep your bug juice off our dinner! Aren’t you supposed to be off having fancy drinks at the temple tonight?”

“It’s not at the temple,” Garrett said, “We’re doing it at somebody’s house in the nicest part of Queensgarden.” They turned together and headed toward the kitchen.

“I’ll have another batch of essence ready for you by tomorrow night,” Terrick said.

“Thanks,” Garrett said, “We could sure use it.” If there was one resource the city was not in short supply of at the moment, it was unanimated corpses. Garrett would rather see them converted to laborers working on the relief effort as quickly as possible. Since the Veranus were gone and many of the city’s supply chains were disrupted, the young shaman and his people had proven one of the few reliable sources of acquiring fresh essence.

Garrett shouldered open the kitchen door and was immediately overwhelmed by the heat within.

“Evenin’ Garrett!” Mrs. Nash said as she looked up from the dough she was rolling out on the counter top. She was another one of Garrett’s refugees, sharing the suddenly rather cramped space of the manor house, at least until the zombies had finished repairing her damaged home.

Hetta greeted Garrett with a pearly grin as he laid his net full of dead birds down in the corner. She was chopping vegetables at Mrs. Nash’s elbow.

Crane, Tom the zombie, and Mrs. Nash’s son Kent all looked up from their duties as well and greeted the newcomers with monosyllabic grunts.

Warren took one look inside the crowded kitchen and then tossed his sacks through the door and retreated back into the hall. Terrick did the same.

“Hetta,” Garrett said, “Do you have everything you need for the night? I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”

“We’re fine, Garrett,” she laughed, “Have fun at your party.”

“Thanks,” he said, already starting to sweat beneath his heavy purple robe. He waved goodbye and ducked back out into the cool shadows of the hallway.

“Siriman wanted me to wish you luck, Garrett,” Terrick said, “He says that tonight will be a fortuitous convergence for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Warren asked.

“I do not question the elder’s wisdom,” Terrick said with a shrug, “I simply deliver his message.”

“Thank him for me,” Garrett said. He had never been able to make sense of anything the mystical serpent had said to him, but he was glad at least that the giant snake had found a welcoming home among the river tribesmen and their young shaman.

“You sure you don’t want to come to the party, Warren?” Garrett asked, “You have as much right to be there as me.”

“Nah,” Warren said, “I don’t really fit in with that kinda crowd.”

“What about Ymowyn and your dad?” Garrett asked.

“They’re gonna sit this one out too,” Warren said, “They’ve been workin’ pretty hard at the aid camp, and I think they’re just lookin’ forward to getting some sleep tonight.”

“Diggs’ll be there,” Garrett said.

“Good luck with that,” Warren laughed.

“How’s Scupp doing?” Garrett asked.

“She’s fine,” Warren said, “She stumps around faster on those crutches than I do on all fours, and anyway she’s got her little wizard to run all her errands for her now.”

“Mujah’s still hanging out with her?” Garrett asked.

“Couldn’t separate ‘em with a pry bar,” Warren laughed.

A knock sounded at the door then and Garrett grabbed his staff. “That’s probably for me,” he said.

“Have fun,” Warren said.

Garrett waved his goodbyes and headed toward the door, sidestepping a scampering gamelon.

Pinny opened the door and greeted the tattooed man standing on the front porch. “Hi, Mister Cenick!”

“Good evening, Pinny,” Cenick said. He lifted his eyes to Garrett as he approached and smiled.

“Hi, Cenick,” Garrett said. “Thanks, Pinny,” he added, “I’ll see you later, all right?”

“Goodnight,” the Lethian girl said as Garrett stepped out into the cold night air and closed the door behind him.

“You’ve done a good thing, Garrett,” Cenick said with pride in his voice. The tattooed necromancer wore a fine silk robe of deep purple hue and a glimmering golden skull talisman. He had returned from the north a bit leaner and with a weary look in his eyes that had not yet faded since his return. He had taken the news of Uncle’s leaving rather hard, but he wore the ghast-wrought dagger that Tinjin had left him in a place of honor on his knife belt.

“I like the kids,” Garrett said, “and they needed a place to stay. The dragon sorta smashed their old place.”

“I admire your new staff,” Cenick said as they turned and walked toward the horses that stood waiting in the street.

“Thanks,” Garrett said, “Oh, can I ride with one of you guys tonight?”

“You changed your mind about riding the wolf?” Cenick laughed.

“Yeah,” Garrett said, “I started thinking about leaving him penned up with all those horses. He might get hungry.”

“You wouldn’t have that problem if you had a proper steed for a death lord of your stature,” laughed Max Zara as he sat astride his zombified stallion, a new one. He had lost the old one when he fled Weslae by ship, leaving it behind, along with the remains of his army. He still bore the evidence of how much that retreat had cost him, in the look of lingering sorrow in his eyes and the shock of white that now frosted the dark hair at his temples. The only souvenir of his time in his homeland was a strange staff of blackened steel that he carried everywhere now. Glowing emeralds set between the sharp flanges of its head pulsed with slumbering magical power and cast a perpetual sickly glow across his weathered face. His black robes bore a sash of vibrant purple, and he had replaced his traditional gold talisman with a shining skull of polished platinum.

“Hi, Max,” Garrett said.

“Ride with me,” Max said, reaching down to give Garrett a hand up, “My horse smells better than his does.”

Cenick glowered at him as he swung up onto the back of his shaggy mountain pony Lluhda. He leaned forward and scratched her behind the ear, and she nickered appreciatively.

Garrett smiled as he climbed up behind Max upon the undead horse. He settled his staff across his lap and tried to remember how to balance astride a horse as Max and Cenick rode off toward the Queensgarden heights

“Heard anything from Uncle Tinjin yet?” Garrett asked.

“Nothing,” Max sighed.

“You think he’s all right?” Garrett asked.

“Tinjin?” Max mused, “He’ll be fine. I just hope that he’s not too worried about me. I imagine he’s already on his way to Fraelu by now, and from there, who knows where.”

“Uncle Tinjin is quite resourceful, Garrett,” Cenick said, “I am not afraid for him.”

“I would fear rather for the Chadiri,” Max chuckled, “Now that Uncle Tinjin’s involved, and with you having slain the dragon, their days are numbered.”

“I didn’t kill the dragon,” Garrett said, “Serepheni and Diggs did that!”

“They may have been the weapon of your vengeance,” Max laughed, “but it was you who led them to victory.”

“It wasn’t vengeance,” Garrett said quietly, “I was just trying to save the city.”

“Vengeance or heroism,” Max said, “the result is the same.”

“I guess,” Garrett said. He could still remember the look on Graelle’s face as Kadreaan died… the look of a man who had just lost the last thing in the world that he loved. As much as Garrett had hated the man, he didn’t feel very heroic about doing that to him.