Songreaver (13 page)

"Really big ones. They took over a whole
area, but you can see their webs and avoid 'em."

"I had thought..." Uncle paused, mid-sentence
to lean on his staff, coughing, a long, ragged cough. He wheezed in
a fresh breath and continued. "I had thought the Spellbreaker had
leveled most of the elven city when he made it his citadel. I
suppose he found it easier just to built on top of it."

"Are you sure you want to do this now?"
Garrett asked, "I mean I can bring you back here any time.
Shouldn't we wait 'till you're feeling better?"

Uncle waved his hand and shook his head.
"I'm... fine," he coughed.

"All right," Garrett said, not really
believing him, "We should go... this way."

A girlish giggle sounded from the darkness of
one of the tunnels, making him jump.

Garrett held his torch between himself and
the darkness, his mouth agape.

"You always pick that one," the girl's voice
said, "but it's the wrong way."

Garrett cocked his head to the side,
struggling to remember where he had heard that voice before. Then,
a girl stepped from the shadows. She was about Garrett's height and
dressed in clothing of plain brown fabric. Her hair and eyes were
almost the same shade of brown. Her boots were of soft brown
leather and her hooded cape as well. She smiled at him, her round
face friendly and somehow familiar. A single violet flower, tucked
behind her left ear added a little splash of color to her garb.

"A friend of yours, Garrett?" Uncle
asked.

"Uh... I don't
think
so," he said.

The girl in brown smiled, looking at the
floor a moment before she spoke again. "Who's this?" she asked,
indicating Uncle Tinjin.

"Oh, that's my Uncle, he... do I
know
you?" Garrett said.

She giggled again and then shook her
head.

"What's your name?" he asked.

Her eyes sparkled. "You have to guess," she
laughed, "and don't say
Macy
again, that's wrong."

Garrett glanced at Uncle then back to the
girl. "What?"

"Try to guess it," she said, a pleading note
in her voice.

Garrett blinked at her and waved his free
hand vaguely, "Ah... Priss?"

She pulled a face. "You think I look like a
Priss
?" she scoffed.

"I don't know," he sighed, "Who
are
you?"

The girl in brown frowned and kicked her foot
in the dust.

"Sorry," Garrett said, "You want me to guess
again?"

"No," she grumbled, "That was your one...
maybe you won't be so stupid next time."

Garrett stared at her. "Anyway," he said, "my
name's Garrett, and this is my Uncle Tinjin. We're going to visit a
friend."

"I know," the girl said, "You're going to
visit Annalien, but who is
he
, and what does he want with
her?" She pointed at Uncle Tinjin.

"That's my Uncle Tinjin," he said, speaking
slowly, as if explaining something to a small child, "He wants to
meet Annalien and see her crystal."

"You told him about the crystal?" the girl in
brown said, waving her hands in frustration, "Why don't you just
invite everybody down here and charge admission?"

Garrett wagged his finger at the girl. "I
know
I know you from somewhere," he said.

Her face brightened. "Really? What do you
remember?"

Garrett pulled his lips back over his teeth,
concentrating. "Unh... do you work at the flower shop?" he
guessed.

Her expression went suddenly stony. She
reached up and yanked the purple flower from behind her ear and
held it out, accusingly. "You think I got this at the
flower
shop
?" she asked, "You really don't remember?"

Garrett shrugged, flustered beyond words.

She threw the flower down onto the tunnel
floor and turned her back to him.

Garrett looked at Uncle Tinjin, but the old
man was watching the girl, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. The
fingers of Tinjin's left hand slipped inside the pouch on his belt
where he always carried a small vial of essence.

A sound drew Garrett's attention back to the
girl in brown. She was crying.

He cautiously approached her. At a loss for
what to do, he knelt and picked up the flower that she had dropped
and softly blew the dust from it.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I didn't mean to hurt
your feelings."

She sniffed loudly and stiffened her
back.

He lifted the violet flower and laid it on
her shoulder, still holding it by the stem. "Please take your
flower back," he said.

She looked back at him over her shoulder with
a trembling smile, her brown eyes glistening. She took the flower
and clutched it to her chest. "Why were you gone so long?" she
whispered.

"Huh? Oh, I've been up North," he said, "We
were fighting the Chadiri."

Her eyes hardened as she turned to face him.
"What strength did you encounter? How many legions and what
casualties? What are the names of your commanders?"

"What?" Garrett said. His mind suddenly
filled with a strange, buzzing sensation.

The girl blinked and shook her head. "Sorry,"
she said, "...old habit."

Garrett's thoughts cleared again. "What was
that
?" he asked.

She gave a sad sort of laugh. "Nothing," she
said, "It doesn't matter... I'm glad you're all right."

"Thanks," Garrett said. He smiled at her, and
she smiled back.

"Look," he said, "Why don't you come to see
Annalien with us?"

She shook her head. "No," she said, "I kinda
want to be alone right now."

"I guess I'll see you again sometime?"
Garrett said.

The girl in brown nodded.

"I promise that I'll remember you next time,"
he said.

"You promise?" she said.

"Definitely."

She leaned forward suddenly and gave him a
quick hug before pulling away, looking around as if she were about
to be caught at it.

"I have to go," she said, then started toward
a tunnel mouth.

"Spiders that way," Garrett said.

"Oh, yeah," she said, turning quickly and
ducking into a different tunnel with an embarrassed wave of her
hand.

Uncle Tinjin stepped forward, relaxing his
guard. "Who was that?" he asked.

"I have no idea," Garrett sighed.

"She seemed to know you quite well," Tinjin
said, "and yet you say you have no recollection of her?"

"No," Garrett said, "but it
seems
like
I know her... we must have met somewhere before."

"Obviously some sort of magic at work there,"
Tinjin said, "I remember reading once..." He stopped, overcome with
another fit of ragged coughs.

Garrett waited for him to breathe clearly
again and asked, "What did you read?"

"About what?" Tinjin asked.

"I... you said you read something... about
something," Garrett said, trying to remember what it was that he
had wanted to say a moment ago.

"I read a great many things, Garrett. You
will have to be more specific than that."

"It was... never mind," Garrett said, "I'll
think of it again later."

"What's wrong, Garrett?" Uncle asked.

Garrett shook his head. "I don't know... I
feel really sad for some reason, but I don't know why."

Uncle looked around at the ancient runes
carved into the pale stone of the tunnel walls. "Old ghosts
perhaps," he said, "This was a happy place once, full of magic and
life. The living don't come down here anymore, and, when we do, we
stir up old memories. It's best we keep moving."

Garrett nodded and pointed toward the shadowy
mouth of one of the tunnels, then changed his mind and pointed at a
different one. "This way," he said.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, pretty sure."

Garrett and his uncle followed the old
thoroughfare, down into the subterranean heart of the Old City.
Dark corridors and chambers opened off to either side, tempting
exploration, but some nameless sadness hung heavy in the shadows.
Garrett hurried past, anxious to reach their destination.

At last, they reached the great hall that
contained the house of Annalien the ghost. Uncle gasped when he saw
it.

Shimmering sunlight poured from the ovoid
windows of the domelike building at the center of the vast
underground chamber where the ghost lived. Garrett smiled, happy to
return to the only place in the city where the golden light of the
sun reached, through the magic of the ghost's crystal.

Uncle approached the central dome, slowly,
amazement plain on his face.

"Annalien," Garrett called out, "It's me,
Garrett. I’ve brought a friend. Can we come in?"

The ghost appeared at the door of her home, a
faint silhouette against the golden light that shone through her
transparent body. She smiled, lifting the stump of her right wrist
in greeting.

"She lost her hands when she touched the
crystal," Garrett whispered to Uncle Tinjin, "I don't know why she
didn't get them back when she turned into a ghost."

"My hearing still works quite well," Annalien
called out, "though I can't imagine how you humans can hear
anything with those tiny ears of yours."

Annalien's long ears pointed out from beneath
her gossamer hair. Her large eyes and heart-shaped face marked her
elfin nature as well.

"My lady," Uncle said, bowing before her,
"
Tannarael deis nendaa. Nas'bene tenne
."

Annalien laughed. "
Tannarael nan'dene,
maravaen
," she said, "Your guest has good manners, Garrett. Who
is he?"

"This is my Uncle Tinjin," he said, "He's
studying some sort of glowy sand that he found, and I thought it
reminded me of your crystal. I was hoping you wouldn't mind showing
it to him."

Annalien's eyes narrowed. "Come in, Tinjin,"
she said, "if you aren't afraid of ghosts."

"Thank you, my lady," Tinjin said. He stepped
forward and ducked his head as he stepped through the low doorway
of her home.

Garrett followed him in and found Tinjin
frozen, mid-step and staring at the sunlight crystal at the center
of Annalien's garden. There, atop a stone pillar, in the center of
a blue pool, sat the crystal shard that had once fallen from the
sky in a distant age. All around the room, plants of every color
and variety bloomed and flourished in the warmth of its light.

Annalien lifted her arms and gave them a
crooked smile. "Here it is," she said.

Tinjin fumbled with his satchel for a moment
and pulled out the thick glass jar, into which he had poured the
precious lake stone sand. He held it up in the light of the
crystal, comparing the light of each against the other.

"Where did you get that?" Annalien whispered,
moving closer to have a look.

"I believe..." Tinjin began, then a fit of
coughing raged through his lungs, leaving him unable to speak for a
long while. "I believe it comes from a lake somewhere above the
river Neshat."

Annalien gave him a critical look. "You're
sick half to death, dear," she chided, "What are you doing up and
about?"

Uncle Tinjin shook his head. "I'll be fine,"
he said.

"Nonsense," the ghost said, "Garrett, go
fetch me three leaves from that tall plant with the red berries
over there."

"Yes, Ma'am," Garrett said, hurrying to
comply.

"Don't touch the berries though," she called
after him, "They'll make you itch."

"I have gloves," he said.

"Then your hands will be perfectly fine when
you forget and rub your eye later and go blind for a week!" she
said.

Garrett reached carefully around the clusters
of red berries and plucked out three of the largest glossy green
leaves from the plant. He jogged back with the leaves in hand.

Annalien looked around and pointed her wrist
at a chipped ceramic mug that lay on the floor nearby. "Clean that
out and put the leaves in the bottom," she said.

Uncle Tinjin looked concerned. "That's
wertroot, isn't it?" he asked.

Annalien nodded. "Ugly sort of name you give
to something that's older than your race. We called it
xanarael
, when we were in charge of such things, but, yes,
you call it
wertroot
now."

Garrett dumped a clump of dirt out of the
bottom of the old mug and dusted it clean before putting the leaves
inside. "Now what?" he asked.

"Find something to grind them up," Annalien
said, "We'll have your Uncle better in no time."

"Ah, wert...
Xanarael
is poisonous, is
it not?" Uncle asked.

"The berries, mildly, the roots, deadly,"
Annalien said, "I take it you know something about herbalism?"

"I dabble a bit," Tinjin said.

"You'll learn something new then," she said,
"Are you finished yet, Garrett?"

"Almost," he said, crushing the three leaves
together with a smooth stone he had found beside the fountain, "but
they're not really breaking up. They're just kinda smooshing
together."

"Perfect," she said, "Now fill the mug with
water, but don't spill out any of the leaves."

Garrett knelt and dipped the rim of the
cracked mug beneath the surface of the pond, watching it fill with
cool, clear water. The crushed leaves swirled in the bottom,
staining the water a rich, lime green. He stood up and carried the
mug over to Annalien, careful not to spill a drop.

"Well done," she said, "Now hold it steady
for a moment."

She reached out with her handless wrists and
waved both over the top of the mug, whispering something in
Elvish.

Garrett felt the container growing warmer
through his gloves, until at last a little wisp of steam rose above
the trembling surface of the green water.

Annalien smiled. "Care for some tea,
Garrett's Uncle?"

Uncle Tinjin gave her a wary smile in
response. "You may call me Tinjin," he said.

Annalien laughed, "Well, Tinjin, are you
going to drink it, or do you still think that I'm trying to poison
you?"