The Frostwoven Crown (Book 4) (7 page)

Suddenly, the door creaked open, and Garrett breathed an explosive sigh as he stumbled inside, pushing the door shut behind him.

“Good evening, Master Garrett,” the gaunt doorman croaked. The vampire stood to his full height with his lean shadow cast against the far wall in the rippling white light of the wisp orb.

“Good evening, Mister Klavicus,” Garrett said, “I’m glad to see you.” He gave a little wave and a smile to the wisp orb, and it flared brightly in response.

The bald vampire bowed stiffly. “My apologies for keeping you waiting,” he said, making a low clicking noise in his throat before continuing, “The evening’s festivities have kept me away from my ordinary duties.”

“It’s all right,” Garrett said, “I hope I’m not late.”

“Quite early,” Klavicus said, opening one of the runed panels in the amber wall, “May I take your coat?” He tilted his head to the side, looking at Garrett the way a vulture eyes a wounded animal.

“Sure,” Garrett said, shrugging out of his overcoat and passing it to Klavicus. He held the feather brooch, clutched between the wooden coffer and Uncle’s letter.

Klavicus folded Garrett’s coat over his arm and ushered him through the door. “I will show you to your seat, Master Garrett,” he said, “Young Lady Veranu will meet you there when she is ready.”

“Thank you,” Garrett said.

Klavicus sniffed as Garrett stepped past him into the hallway. “Will you require any additional sustenance, beyond that of your earlier meal?” he asked, “Or have you eaten enough… cinnamon brea…” He stopped short, sniffing louder now.

“What… what are you carrying?” he demanded. The vampire leaned down, baring his long yellow fangs as he inhaled the scent of the wooden coffer that Garrett held.

“Uh, a gift,” Garrett said, recoiling away from the inhuman doorman, “for Mrs. Veranu.”

Klavicus’s eyes went wide, like a spooked horse, and he spun, looking down the hall to where a small group of vampires emerged from a side room, laughing as they moved further down the hall. Klavicus lowered his voice to a thin, dry hiss. “
She
must not see that!” he whispered.

“Mrs. Veranu?” Garrett asked.

“No!” Klavicus hissed, “The Valfrei. She must not know… she must not
touch
anything that belonged to him!”

“To Marla’s father?”

Klavicus shushed him, clamping his bony hand down hard on Garrett’s shoulder. “Come,” he said, “this cannot wait.”

Garrett stumbled along as Klavicus rushed him back out into the entryway and through the side door that led to the Veranu’s apartment. The tall vampire kept looking back over his shoulder as though afraid they were being followed. He only released his grip on Garrett when they reached Marla’s door. He rapped his knuckles sharply on the door and waited.

A few moments later, the door opened, and Mrs. Veranu stood before them, dressed in a green robe with a towel draped over her shoulders and a puzzled smile on her face.

“Hello, Garrett,” she said, drying the back of her neck with the corner of her towel. Her short, auburn hair stood out like a tangled haystack, still damp from her bath. She flashed her pearly fangs in a grin, “I’m afraid we are still not quite ready to receive visitors. I thought we’d be meeting you later at the theater.” She gave Klavicus a pointed look.

“My apologies, my lady,” Klavicus said, bowing deeply, “I am afraid this could not wait.”

“What is it?” Marla’s mother asked.

Klavicus nudged Garrett’s shoulder. They stepped inside, and Mrs. Veranu closed the door behind them.

“Uncle Tinjin wanted me to give you this,” Garrett said, handing her the coffer and letter, careful to pull out his gift for Marla first.

Mrs. Veranu took the box and letter, frowning slightly. She set the coffer aside on a nearby table and broke Uncle Tinjin’s wax seal with her long fingernail. She opened the letter and scanned it with her eyes.

Garrett saw her lips tense, and her eyes went to the little chest on the table. She finished the letter and read it again before folding it back and letting out a slow sigh. She did not look at them, but instead let her eyes wander the room. Her face revealed no emotion, until, at last, she smiled again.

“Thank you, Garrett,” she said, “and give your uncle my thanks as well… I would appreciate it if you said nothing to Marla about…”

“Is that Garrett?” Marla’s voice called from the other room.

She appeared from the doorway of her bedroom, dressed in a high-collared, long-sleeved black gown that hung to her knees. She wore shoes of polished black leather and a belt of glistening black scales, cinched across her waist with a dragon-headed buckle. She wore her hair in a tight bun, held in place with a jade hairpin. Two long ebony locks hung down on either side of her face. Her eyes lit up at the sight of Garrett, and her smile made him lose his balance. Klavicus steadied him from behind.

“Hi, Marla!” Garrett said.

She crossed the room in two graceful strides, catching him up in a hug. “You look wonderful!” she said. She stepped back, giving him a crooked smile at the sight of his headdress. “Where did you get that?” she asked.

“Oh,” he said, putting his hand to his forehead, “This is kind of a… distraction.”

“A what?”

“Never mind,” he said, “Here, this is for you.” He held out the feather brooch.

Marla’s eyes went wide. “It’s beautiful!” she said, “Thank you.”

Garrett smiled and nodded.

“Mother, can you help me with this?” Marla said.

Mrs. Veranu quickly set aside Uncle Tinjin’s letter, interposing her body between Marla and the table where the wooden coffer lay. She stepped forward to help her daughter pin the brooch to the front of her dress. “It is quite lovely,” Mrs. Veranu agreed, “Phoenix bird, I believe.”

“Really?” Garrett asked, “You mean like the ones that catch on fire and then come back?”

Mrs. Veranu laughed. “That’s only a legend,” she said, “The real birds only
seem
to burn in the sunlight. Their feathers are highly reflective. The Lethian name for them is
Vannaroc
. It means
Sunbird
.”

“Oh,” Garrett said, feeling a little embarrassed, “sorry.”

“For what?” Marla asked.

Garrett made some vague motions with his hands. “You guys don’t really like the sun much… I didn’t mean to get you something that would remind you of it.”

Marla and her mother laughed.

“Garrett,” Mrs. Veranu said, “the sun causes us pain, it is true, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t appreciate the beauty of it, or of things relating to it.”

“
I
don’t like the sun,” Klavicus muttered.

“It really is beautiful, Garrett,” Marla said, “Thank you.” She leaned forward and kissed his cheek.

Garrett blushed.

“Marla, are you ready to go?” Mrs. Veranu asked.

“Yes, Mother,” she answered.

“Then why don’t you go ahead and take Garrett down to the theater. I’ll be along shortly.”

Marla smiled and nodded, taking Garrett’s hand.

Garrett suddenly remembered why he left the gloves at home.

“Thank you Klavicus,” Mrs. Veranu said, and a look of understanding passed between them.

“
In faithful service
,” the gaunt vampire responded, bowing slightly with his hands across his chest.

Mrs. Veranu gave him a tense smile, and she watched them open the door and step out into the hall. She reached out to stroke Marla’s hair as she passed. “Enjoy this evening, dear,” she said.

Marla gave her a confused look. “You’re coming too, aren’t you?” she asked.

“Of course, dear,” Mrs. Veranu said, “Now run along.”

Mrs. Veranu closed the door behind them, and Garrett wondered what had been written in Uncle Tinjin’s letter. He walked beside Marla in silence, trying to drown his misgivings in the pleasure of holding Marla’s hand.

“Did that seem strange to you?” Marla whispered to Garrett.

“What?”

“Mother was acting a little… off,” she said.

“Ah… I didn’t notice anything,” Garrett said.

Marla frowned at him. “What were you talking about before I came in?” she asked.

Garrett faltered. “Ah…”

“Rats,” Klavicus said, glaring back over his shoulder at Garrett, “Rats in the food stores again. I was hoping that your mother might recommend some manner of creature for use in hunting them.”

“Rats?” Marla sounded unconvinced. “I’m sure we could find something at the shop to help out.”

“Uh, yeah,” Garrett said, clinging desperately to the doorman’s lie, “and I’d be glad to help too. Uncle Tinjin showed me how he keeps rats out of the laboratory at home.”

“How is that?” Klavicus demanded, genuinely curious.

“Um… zombie rats,” Garrett answered.

“Zombie rats?” Marla laughed.

“Yeah,” Garrett said, “You just have to kill a couple of ‘em in traps or something, and then you rez ‘em and give them orders to kill any other rats they find. You can even tell them to bring you the bodies so you can make more zombie rats. Uncle has like fifty of them now living downstairs… well,
unliving
I guess.”

Marla gave him a disgusted look.

“This actually works?” Klavicus asked.

“Yeah!” Garrett said, “I made a couple myself already. It’s not that hard.”

Klavicus considered it as they walked. “Well then,” he said, “I would like to purchase one or more of your undead rats.”

“All right,” Garrett said, “I can come back with a flask sometime and make some zombie rats for you. Can you find a couple of dead ones for me?”

Klavicus let out an angry hiss. “
That
is not a problem,” he said, “Dozens I have killed…
hundreds
… but still they come.”

“Very well then,” Marla sighed, “the two of you can rid the world of granary rats at your earliest convenience tomorrow. Tonight, however, Garrett and I would prefer to enjoy the
Song of Samhaed
in peace.”

“Of course, my lady,” Klavicus said as he ushered them through the doorway at the end of the hall.

Dozens of vampires in evening dress stood in the hall beyond, talking and sipping from crystal goblets. Garrett’s stomach turned a little at the sight of what they were drinking, but he tried to keep his discomfort from showing on his face.

“What’s the
Song of Sam-ayed
?” Garrett asked.

“
Samhaed
,” Marla corrected his pronunciation, “It is the play we are here to see tonight.”

Garrett started to ask more, but he blanched at the sight of the raven-haired vampire staring at him from across the room.

Claude did not look happy to see him.

Claude's face brightened into a smile when Marla noticed him and waved. The thin vampire boy excused himself from his conversation with two elder vampires and made his way over toward Marla and Garrett. His long black hair was tied back, hanging down over the left shoulder of his gray suit. A polished silver gorget plate lay across his chest, suspended from a chain to hang just below his throat. It bore a symbol of two bat wings spreading from either side of a fanged skull. His shiny black boots clicked on the marble tiles as he strode up to them. He seemed to be doing his best not to look at Garrett.

“Marla,” he said, “you look lovely tonight.” He bowed to her and smiled as she thanked him. He straightened and half turned to Garrett, giving him a second, somewhat stiffer bow. “Master necromancer,” he added.

“Hi, Claude,” Garrett said. He hadn’t spoken to the young gaunt rider since that night in the swamp when Claude had warned him to stay away from Marla. They had taken every opportunity to avoid one another since then. As far as Garrett was concerned, the arrangement suited him just fine.

“We’re going to find our seats now, Claude,” Marla said, “Would you like to sit with us?”

Garrett felt a little sick to his stomach.

Claude’s eyes flicked toward Garrett for the briefest moment before he spoke again. “Thank you, but I’m afraid that I’ve promised to sit with a few of the riders that accompanied the Valfrei from Thrinaar.”

“Have you met her yet?” Marla asked, and Garrett detected a little note of anxiety in her voice.

“Yes, but that was long ago, back home,” Claude said. He reached out and took Marla’s hand. “You have no cause to be nervous. She is a great woman, and I’m certain that you will like her.”

“Thanks,” Marla said, smiling.

Garrett noted that Claude had not yet released Marla’s hand. The vampire was also pointedly ignoring the glare the young necromancer was giving him.

“Perhaps you and your mother will have an opportunity to visit Thrinaar again in the Valfrei’s company,” Claude said, “How long has it been since you were last home?”

Marla laughed nervously. “I haven’t been to Thrinaar since I was a baby,” she said, “I have no memory of the city whatsoever.”