Songreaver (11 page)

"No, Max!" Cenick said.

"
Never before
, Cenick," Max said,
raising a finger, "Never before, in the history of our order, has
there been an opportunity like this!"

"No!" Cenick said, pounding his fist on the
table.

One of Max's zombies took this to mean that
he wanted more wine and stepped in to fill the cup to
overflowing.

Cenick took no notice. "You can't ask him to
do your spying for you! It's too dangerous!"

"It's not spying," Max said, "It would just
be taking advantage of a great learning opportunity, and keeping
his eyes open... perhaps asking a few questions. And, anyway,
everything we do in this business is dangerous. Garrett's not a
child!"

"If Uncle Tinjin found out that we'd let him
get involved in this..." Cenick said, shaking his head.

"Uncle Tinjin?" Max scoffed, "We can't spend
the rest of our lives seeking Uncle's approval for everything."

Cenick flinched and looked away.

"Listen, Garrett," Max said, turning to him,
"If you don't want to do this, you don't have to. It's just
that..."

"He
doesn't
want to do it!" Cenick
said.

Max glared at his friend. "The civilized
people are talking right now, Mister Witchdoctor, please wait your
turn."

Cenick rolled his eyes and fell silent.

"Garrett," Max said, "it
really
is a
great opportunity, but everyone would understand if you said
no
."

Garrett looked at Cenick then back to Max.
"What would I have to do?" he asked.

Cenick put his face in his hands.

Max grinned. "All you would have to do is go
to a few classes and learn their rituals and marches or whatever it
is they do... boring stuff. I've already talked to Serepheni about
this. You wouldn't be expected to do any real work. You'd be more
like an
honorary
Templar."

"Honorary?" Garrett asked.

Max shrugged. "You'd have the title, but none
of the responsibilities," he said, "Why, you probably wouldn't have
to club a single peasant!"

"Garrett," Cenick said, "You know how much
Max likes to oversimplify things. This is a big decision, and,
whether Max will admit it or not, there is some danger. The
sisterhood guards its secrets well... and with deadly force."

The noodles in Garrett's belly seemed
suddenly a bit restless as he struggled with the decision. The idea
of going alone into the temple, studying under the very guardsmen
who had beaten him half to death... studying to be
one of
them
... The prospect terrified him.

Max looked at him, smiling hopefully, and
Garrett felt deeply ashamed. He had followed Max into battle and
seen the world's greatest military shattered at the man's feet. Max
believed in him. Max needed his help. To admit his fears aloud
might destroy Max's confidence in him. He wanted to be who Max
thought he was.

"I'll do it," Garrett said.

Max laughed and sat back in his chair again.
"Well, done, Garrett!" he said, "You are truly the finest of our
sorry lot!"

Garrett looked at Cenick and saw the man's
eyes fall in defeat. "I'm sorry," Garrett said.

Cenick shook his head and smiled. "Don't
apologize Garrett," he said, "Sometimes a man must make hard
decisions... and stand by them."

Garrett's belly gurgled as he realized what
he had just done.

"Well, then," Max said, "I'll speak with
Sere, and we'll work out a schedule for your indoctrination into
the cult. I'm sure there will be some sort of human sacrifice
involved, and we'll have to find a proper victim for it."

Garrett stared at him in horror.

Cenick glared.

"Just a little joke," Max chuckled, "Don't
worry about it, Garrett. Serepheni will be your sponsor in the
church, and you can go to her with any problems. She'll sort it
out. Meanwhile, the rest of us should start packing."

"For what?" Cenick asked.

"Securing our border, of course," Max said,
"Fresh troops, better supplies, we're in charge right from the
start on this one."

"You think the Chadiri will renew their
advance?" Cenick asked.

"You're leaving without me?" Garrett blurted
out.

The two older necromancers turned to look at
him.

"We have our own work to do, Garrett," Max
said.

"It looks like we've all become loyal
servitors of the worm goddess," Cenick sighed.

Garrett said nothing more, picking at his
noodles with his silver fork and regretting his decision
already.

"Have we had any word of Chadiri advance?"
Cenick continued.

Max shook his head. "We've lost the bat
riders," he said, "Apparently, our little war no longer interests
the vampires."

"
Gaunts
," Garrett corrected him.

"Hmm?" Max said.

"Nevermind," Garrett muttered.

"And with half our ghouls off on a rescue
mission," Max said, "we're a bit blind in the North."

"We have to assume they will attack again,"
Cenick said.

"Doesn't matter," Max said, leaning back to
prop one leg over the arm of his chair, "I'm taking the fight to
them."

"What?" Cenick asked.

Max smiled. "I sense some discord among their
leadership," he said, "They've overreached themselves this time and
hoped that no one would notice. I have, and I intend to make them
pay for their mistake."

Cenick looked at him as if he'd gone mad.
"You plan an assault up the escarpment with undead troops?"

"Who said anything about the escarpment?" Max
said.

"Then how..." Cenick began to ask, then his
eyes went wide.

Max's smile stretched into an evil grin.

"What?" Garrett asked.

"He's going around," Cenick said, his voice
barely audible, "He's going through Astorra."

Max drained his cup and held it out for the
zombie to refill.

A cold tingling feeling crawled over
Garrett's skin. "I want to help," he said, "You promised me,
Max."

Cenick stared at Garrett, a sick look on his
face.

Max nodded. "You'll be there when we take
Braedshal," he said, "and Cabre will kneel at your feet and beg
forgiveness."

Cenick's chair scraped loudly as he got up
from the table. He did not look at either one of them.

"Going somewhere?" Max asked.

"I have to pack," he said, "for a
very
long war."

"It will be good for you, Cenick," Max
sighed, "The city makes you fat."

Cenick jabbed a finger at Max. "Listen, Max,"
he hissed, "You need to think very seriously about what you are
about to do. This won't be about killing legions of war-mad blood
priests. You will be marching through people's homes!
We
will be the invaders, not the Chadiri! Innocent people
will
get hurt. There's no way to prevent that, if we go that route."

Max toppled his chair to the floor with a
bang
as he shoved himself to his feet. "
Think
about
it?" he yelled, "Think about it seriously? That's all I've done
since the day the Chadiri murdered my family!"

"This isn't about vengeance, Max!" Cenick
shouted, "You have no right to spill your misery across the lives
of countless..."

"Vengeance?" Max shouted him down, "Oh, no...
this is
Justice
, old friend." Max flung out the contents of
his wine cup, spattering the closest zombie with red droplets.
"This is the wheel of history turning to crush out the cruelest
empire the world has ever known, and we get the pleasure of
watching it happen."

"You're not talking about watching it
happen," Cenick said, "You're talking about becoming the thing we
hate."

"No!" Max said, "We're not going into Astorra
to conquer and enslave and burn! We're going in to liberate them
from the madness of their own false king who sold their children's
souls to the red god!"

Cenick bared his teeth, raising his hands
like claws. "You think they will see us as
liberators
?" he
demanded, "The undead horde lays siege to their castle and demands
the head of their beloved prince. Do you honestly think that every
Astorran boy strong enough to hold a shield won't be on that
battlement, ready to live out some ridiculous tale of storybook
valor? No, Max, stop pretending that this isn't about
vengeance!"

Max hurled his wine cup at the wall, chipping
the wood paneling where it struck. He turned his back to Cenick and
breathed deeply, struggling to regain his composure.

"Garrett," Cenick said, "please don't let
your hate make you do something that you will always...
always
regret."

Garrett stood up and backed away from the
table, looking from Cenick to Max.

"Max... I," Cenick said.

Max hung his head and laughed.

Cenick stared at him, his face hard.

"Cenick?" Max said.

"Yes, Max?"

Max shook his head and turned to face him, a
wry look on his face. "You always know how to ruin my best
parties," he said, "I guess that's what I deserve for inviting a
savage to supper."

Cenick said nothing.

Max walked around the table and hugged his
friend.

The tension in Cenick's shoulders relaxed at
last, and he returned Max's hug.

"You're right," Max said, stepping away, "I
sometimes... rarely, let my emotions get the better of me."

"Rarely?" Cenick said with a smirk.

"You're right. Our business with the
pretender prince will have to wait a bit longer," Max said, "but
our business with the red god cannot." He reached out and laid his
hand on Cenick's broad shoulder. "It just means that
you
will be charged with keeping all those idealistic little Astorrans
off my damned flank while I march my army up the middle and cut the
heart out of the Empire."

Cenick sighed. "You're going back to Weslae,
aren't you?"

Max laughed. "I'm thinking of starting a
library there," he said, "and, anyway, I've been away from home too
long."

"It won't be home anymore... you know
that."

"No," Max said, "perhaps not... but at least
it will be free."

****

"Thanks for letting us stay the night,"
Garrett said, ducking his head beneath the leather strap of his
satchel as he shouldered it on, "I just didn't think we were gonna
make it home before Curfew last night."

"Any time, Garrett," Max said, yawning and
blinking against the cold morning light. He tugged the purple satin
house robe, another of Jitlowe's castoffs, a bit tighter against
the wind that blew through his open front door.

"I hope Marla made it home all right,"
Garrett said.

"I wish..." Max paused to yawn again, "wish
she'd stayed too, but don't worry, there's nothing on the streets
after Curfew but Watchers, and those clumsy piles of bone could
never catch a vampire."

"Yeah," Garrett said, looking at Caleb who
stood motionless beside him in his gray woolen suit. Caleb looked
straight ahead, as glassy-eyed and emotionless as any other zombie.
Nothing of the desperate rage that he had shown in the alleyway
remained in his demeanor.

"I'll let you know what Serepheni says about
your Templar training," Max said, "but I really appreciate your
doing this."

"Yeah," Garrett said, "it shouldn't be too
hard, right?"

Max smiled. "Well," he said, "I've got to go
redraw all my battle plans now... put in a few more puppy dogs and
rainbows for the benefit of our tattooed nanny."

Garrett grinned.

Max's smile faded. "Cenick is a good friend,"
he said, "and a good man."

"Yeah," Garrett said.

"Just remember," Max said, "not all men
are
good, and sometimes we have to set aside our own
goodness if we're to have any hope of keeping those men from taking
everything
away from us."

Garrett forced a little smile. "Yeah," he
said, a bit of last night's indigestion stirring within him.

"I'll see you later, Garrett," Max said,
stepping back into his entryway with his hand on the door.

"Oh, Max?" Garrett said.

"Yes?"

"Have you ever heard of a zombie... going
crazy?" Garrett asked.

"Going crazy?" Max laughed, "Garrett, you
have to have a mind to go crazy. Zombies don't have that kind of
functionality. I wish they did, it might make my job a bit
easier."

Garrett looked at Caleb. "But... what if the
zombie was different? Like we did something different, and he's
smarter than usual... like he remembers things?"

Max's eyes narrowed as he looked at Caleb.
The door swung open a little wider. "Garrett," he said, "what
exactly did you and Uncle do differently when you made this
one?"

Garrett hesitated. He had always assumed that
Uncle Tinjin would have told the other necromancers, at least
Cenick and Max, about the shimmerfleece. "Uncle used a different
ritual on Caleb," Garrett said, "Something he was experimenting
with."

"And you say it made him smarter?" Max
asked.

Garrett nodded. "And he has a really good
sense of balance," Garrett said, "Even the tailor noticed it."

Max gave him a confused look then shook it
off. "This is very interesting," Max said, "I definitely want to
talk with you about it later, but I
have
to get some things
written down before I lose track of my thoughts."

"Sorry," Garrett said, "Thanks again!" he
hurried down Max's front steps and waved goodbye. Caleb followed
him stiffly.

Garrett made a mental note to search through
the crates in the carriage house again for his winter coat when he
got home. He couldn't remember seeing it when he had gone through
the boxes before. After finding no mention of Lampwicke in the
auction house ledger, he had torn through every crate, afraid that
her cage might have been packed away like some knickknack among
Uncle's other belongings.