The Frostwoven Crown (Book 4) (26 page)

“Thank you, Master Chunnley,” Uncle Tinjin said, “I look forward to tasting your work. I’ve heard very good things about it.”

“Thank you, sir,” Chunnley answered, setting the last pie down in front of Garrett.

Uncle Tinjin took note of the number of pies and asked, “Won’t you be joining us, Master Chunnley?”

“Oh, er, no, sir,” Chunnley said, somewhat taken aback, “It wouldn’t seem… proper.”

“Nonsense!” Tinjin said, “You are an honored guest in my home. Please join us for dinner.”

Chunnley smiled and bowed his head. “Actually, sir,” he said, “it’s always been a dream of mine to be a proper chef in a big house, servin’ the lord and his guests. I know it’s a bit silly, but I actually prefer to eat in the kitchen… if it’s all the same to you.”

“Of course,” Uncle Tinjin chuckled, “as you wish, Master Chunnley.

The ghoul smiled again and nodded, filling the cups with water or wine before taking his leave.

Bargas and Tinjin began to converse together again, quickly becoming lost in stories of their adventures together. Ymowyn took the opportunity to speak quietly to Warren, teasing a slim smile out of him with something she said, and Garrett made no effort to eavesdrop on them.

Garrett pushed through the flaky crust of the chicken pie with his fork, letting the steam escape to drift above his plate like the ghosts of murdered hens. In spite of the fact that he hadn’t eaten since breakfast, he had no real appetite. He glanced toward the head of the table where Tinjin and Bargas sat laughing. Garrett had dared a faint hope that Warren’s dad would have been able to bring Uncle Tinjin to his senses and get him to stay. It was obvious now that Bargas had no intention of asking the old man to change his mind.

A chill crept over him again, but he was no longer frightened of it. It felt more like the cold links of mail armor draped across his shoulders, some protective burden that he was forced to wear. He sat through dinner, plucking at the pie on the plate before him and lost in grim thoughts, until, after an hour or so, he became aware that the others were rising to take their leave.

Chunnley reappeared to take their plates and receive their praise. He raised a worried look when he saw Garrett’s half-eaten pie.

“It was good. Thank you,” Garrett said, “I just wasn’t very hungry tonight.”

Chunnley nodded and gave him a gentle smile before turning to go.

“Thank you all for visiting,” Tinjin said to his guests, “I would have prepared a warmer welcome if I had known you were coming.”

“We ghouls are used to arrivin’ to dinner uninvited,” Bargas laughed, “Otherwise we wouldn’t be so good at breakin’ into crypts.”

“Nevertheless, I insist that you allow me to host a proper going away party with you as my guests,” Uncle Tinjin said, “As was my original intent.”

“As you will, Tinjin,” Bargas said as the group made their way toward the basement door.

Tinjin stepped close and hugged his old friend. Bargas returned the hug as gently as he could.

“Thank you, Bargas,” Tinjin said, “I know that I have no hope of ever clearing my debt to you, but, if there is anything you need… Just ask it.”

Bargas looked thoughtful for a moment before speaking. “If you don’t mind, Tinjin,” he said, “I would like to borrow your boy for a bit, if you can spare him.” He raised a paw toward Garrett.

“Of course,” Tinjin said, “When do you need his help?”

“Well, now, just for a while,” Bargas said, “if he’s free to go.”

“Garrett?” Tinjin said, looking at him.

“Yeah,” Garrett said, “I can go with you, Mister Bargas. Should I bring any essence?”

“No, boy,” Bargas said with a wave of his paw, “Nothin’ like that. Just need your help with somethin’ for a bit, that’s all.”

They said goodnight to Uncle Tinjin, and then Garrett followed the ghouls and Lady Ymowyn down into the tunnels below the house. The others seemed in high spirits though Garrett still felt the chill weight of the dark future bearing down on him.

“You three go on back to town,” Bargas said when they reached the subterranean roundhouse with the deep pit where Garrett and his friends had gone in search of the Songreaver’s tomb, “Garrett and I got some other business to attend.” Warren, Chunnley, and Lady Ymowyn shared a questioning look but then waved their farewells and headed on toward Marrowvyn.

Garrett was standing at the edge of the pit, staring down into the blackness below. Although he could remember their descent into the pit, try as he might, he could recall nothing of the tomb itself or of his return from it. What had happened down there?

He started a little when Bargas moved to his side and crouched down beside him at the edge of the pit.

“It ain’t easy lettin’ go, boy,” Bargas said, “I know that.”

Garrett looked at the big ghoul but said nothing.

“It’s different with ghouls o’ course,” Bargas sighed, “I mean, with you humans, when somebody goes away, you’re left with nothin’ but your memories, and that has to be enough.”

Garrett still stared at him, uncomprehending.

“I remember when we ate
my
dad,” Bargas said, “I cried for a week. Bawled like a pup, I did.”

Garrett made a choking noise, uncertain that he’d actually heard Bargas correctly.

“Oh,” Bargas said, noticing Garrett’s discomfort, “I guess maybe you ain’t never been to a ghoul funeral.”

Garrett shook his head, feeling a little sick.

Bargas smiled. “That’s how we say goodbye, ya see?” he said, “We all take a little piece of the one that we loved and make ‘em part of ourselves. That way they go on with us forever… on and on, in all their kin ‘till the end o’ time. My dad’s in me, and his dad before him, and so on, all the way back.”

Garrett tried to force an understanding smile and a nod.

“I know it sounds odd to ya, boy,” Bargas said, “but you’re a human, and you don’t taste things the way we do. When we ate my dad…” Bargas’s voice trailed off as a tear trickled down his furry cheek. “… well, I never knew how much he loved us ‘till then… Then, I knew.”

Garrett smiled for real then. He nodded his head and took a seat beside Bargas on the edge of the pit.

“Tinjin loves you, boy,” Bargas said, “I don’t want you thinkin’ that this is because he don’t.”

“I know,” Garrett sighed.

“I know you love him too,” Bargas said, “So do I. That’s why I’m doin’ my best to make it easy on him.”

Garrett shook his head. “But I don’t know what I’m gonna do without him,” he said.

Bargas looked away. “I was six years old when I lost my dad,” he said, “and you weren’t much older than that when we found you, lost and half-dead. We survived those things. We’ll survive this too.”

“Yeah,” Garrett said.

Bargas looked at him again and gave him a twisted frown. “You know, boy,” he said, “When we found ya, I didn’t think you was gonna make it. I tol’ Tinjin to leave you lyin’ and get outta there.”

Garrett chuckled. “That’s alright,” he said.

“No, no it ain’t,” Bargas sighed, “I was wrong, and I’m sorry for it. I’m just glad that Tinjin had better sense than to listen to an old fool like me.”

Garrett smiled at him.

“You’re a good boy, Garrett,” Bargas said, “and you’re a good friend to my boy. I think of you as family, and I want you to think o’ me the same now.”

“Thanks,” Garrett said.

“I ain’t askin’ you to call me
uncle
or nothin’, but you’re kin in my reckonin’.” Bargas said.

Garrett nodded.

“Don’t forget it now,” Bargas said, shifting his weight to bump his massive shoulder against Garrett’s

“I won’t,” Garrett said. He thought for a moment before speaking again. “Mister Bargas… What did Uncle Tinjin mean when he said that he was ready to let the dead sleep in peace?”

Bargas remained silent, his eyes falling. At last he sighed and answered, “Tinjin wasn’t always a necromancer, you know. He used to be some kinda wizard from away east, back before I met him. He never talked much about it to me… to anybody… but I worked some of it out from things he said… things he did.”

“Did?” Garrett asked.

Bargas pulled a rueful grin. “You ever seen your uncle really mad, boy?” he asked.

“Yeah, all the time,” Garrett laughed.

Bargas shook his head. “No… I mean
really
mad… scary mad. I only seen it once, and I don’t ever wanna see that again.”

“What happened?” Garrett asked.

Bargas looked thoughtful, as though he were trying to find the right words. “One time,” he said, “Tinjin and I were on the road… full moon, good travelin’ light, both of us in a high mood about somethin’ we’d done, when we hear somebody screamin’. We hurry on to see what it is and round a bend in the road to see this wagon pulled off to the side. Some folks travelin’ too late at night. Got caught by bandits.

“Now bandits we dealt with before, no problem. If a little magic don’t scare ‘em off, a full-grown ghoul will do the trick, so I figure we’re just gonna run in and scare ‘em a bit, maybe knock a few heads around… only thing is, when we get close, me and Tinjin, we sees what these fellas is up to.

“They got this fella all tied up on the ground, and he’s yellin’ and beggin’ ‘em to stop. The bandits, they’re all laughin’ and carryin’ on, loadin’ the man’s wife and kids, little kids, into the wagon and threatenin’ to put ‘em to the torch.”

Bargas shrugged. “Now, for all I know,” he said, “maybe them bandits were just havin’ a bit a sport… just tryin’ to scare the man so they were sure he wasn’t holdin’ out on ‘em… I don’t know. I was just gonna run in an start on the beatin’s… but Tinjin…

“Tinjin kicks his horse and goes tearin’ past me, screamin’ like a holy terror. What he done then weren’t no necromancer work. I never seen magic like that before or since.

“The lucky ones was dead ‘fore they hit the ground… a couple of ‘em though, they dropped their torches and tried to run, but they couldn’t outrun Tinjin… What he did to them, well, let’s just say that a man can live for a lot longer than you’d think with his bones turned to jelly… not long, mind you, but longer than you’d think.”

Garrett felt a bit queasy.

“The funny thing about it, if there was anything funny about it,” Bargas sighed, “was that it was up to me to calm that family down and convince ‘em that they weren’t next on the list for getting’ turned inside out. The man and his wife wouldn’t stop screamin’ after what they just seen, but at least the kids was quiet… just sorta starin’ at Tinjin and at what he’d done to those men. I got ‘em all untied and sent on their way… They was glad to go, I can tell you… Then I looked after Tinjin.

“He was just sittin’ there on the ground in the middle o’ this big black circle. The ground kinda crunched when I stepped on it, like he turned the dirt to glass or somethin’. He just sat there, starin’ at one of them dead fellas, then, all the sudden, he busts out cryin’ and won’t stop. I had to carry him out o’ there.

“I figure it was somethin’ about seein’ that woman and her kids in danger that set him off. After that, I figured that he blamed himself for losin’ somebody important to him, but I never pushed him on it to find out for sure. I didn’t understand what could drive a good man to do that sort o’ thing… until I lost my Berda.”

Garrett looked down into the depths of the pit and said nothing.

“Well,” Bargas said, “whatever happened, I’m glad Tinjin is finally ready to walk away from it. The way I see it, we should be happy for him.”

“I guess so,” Garrett said.

“Anyway, boy,” Bargas said, “He ain’t dyin’… He’s just lettin’ the past die, and the past is the only thing a ghoul believes in buryin’!”

Garrett and Bargas shared a laugh.

“Thanks, Mister Bargas,” Garrett said.

“Anytime, boy,” the ghoul said, “and remember what I said. You’re family. I ain’t gonna be around forever, and I gotta have somebody I trust to look after Warren when I’m gone.” He clapped Garrett hard on the back.

Garrett smiled, recovering his breath from the blow. “Yes, sir,” he said.

“Good boy,” Bargas said.

Garrett awoke the next morning to the familiar smell of scorched bacon and the unfamiliar sound of Uncle Tinjin cursing. Garrett jumped out of bed and ran downstairs in his nightshirt to find the old man dressed in a house robe, with his hand immersed in a bowl of water on the kitchen counter. A steady plume of gray smoke was rising from a pile of bacon, pinned hallway beneath the upended skillet atop the stove. As Garrett entered the kitchen, the grease burst into smoky orange flame.

Tom the zombie looked on from his corner and groaned morosely.

“What happened?” Garrett asked, “Are you all right?”

Uncle Tinjin sighed heavily and lifted his burned hand from the bowl of water, pointing two fingers at the fire.

“
Kohrene Tahg
,” Uncle Tinjin spoke, and the orange flames of the grease fire suddenly transformed into a bluish sand that collapsed into a crackling mound atop the ruined bacon.

Garrett stared, wide-eyed at the pile of sand, which was even now sublimating into a heavy blue fog that rolled off the edge of the stove onto the floor. “You
are
a great wizard!” he exclaimed.