Again, I own none of the creations of Garth Nix.
A Most Involved Fishing Lesson
Eyes narrowed, lips tight, she focus intently on the little bobbing string. Her audience was equally enamored, green eyes darting again and again to the wobbly shadows moving through the darting rapids. The line went taunt, and snapped.
"You are by far the worst angler in the family," her companion said moodily, settling himself in a patch of sunlight. For a moment, he was just a blinding, long-limbed figure of white, eventually forming into a white cat. Only his eyes – brighter than any gem – offered natural color to his form.
The girl's spine stiffened, rising out of its previously disheartened slump. She splashed water at the pale, elegant feline, wonderfully pleased with the irate hiss that escaped him
"Well, next time, you do it. Or get Damed. Or Terciel," she snapped.
The cat made quite the production of moving to a less damp locale, though she knew he had dried almost instantly. "Jealousy isn't an attractive trait, my dear," he said silkily. She responded with an unintelligible sound. Looking heavenward for a moment, he continued calmly, "Your brothers are absolutely the last people in Life I would want to spend an afternoon with. And I suppose that you are getting better." Seeing his words being dismissed, he snorted. "Nehima, stop sulking. Honestly…"
The girl sighed. "Mogget, I'm not sulking, not really." She stared out over the fast moving water, enjoying the roar and the spray. She sat very still for some time.
"They want to send me away again, you know," she said suddenly, watching him sidelong. Barely perceptible, she saw him falter in his long effort to find the perfect position in the sun. She looked back over the water, and missed his piercing glance.
"It's true. Mamma sent the hawk last week. She wants me to spend next season in the Glacier. Maybe more."
The cat sat up, a sinuous, boneless movement ill-balanced with his guarded words. "You would have Filris, at least…"
She twitched her shoulders angrily. Mogget watched silently as she began to pace. Inwardly he sighed.
Almost fourteen, his companion was every bit her parent's daughter. Her black hair curled loosely down her back, while her sharp hazel eyes remained fixed on the flagstones at her feet. She was tall for her age, her body fast approaching the full flower of womanhood. Sighing more loudly this time, he again relegated himself to the role of confessor, a distant part of him noting this most recent livelihood with disgust.
"Well, if not the Glacier, where? You can't stay here, puttering about the House. You'd go mad, trust me."
When she opened her mouth, a hot retort clearly in the making, he continued. "You absolutely detested Bain. And if you disliked that, you'll positively hate the rest of Ancelstierre, so that's out. Belisaere is an interesting city, especially the fish markets. You could live there. I might even visit."
It was Nehima's turn to snort. "Only after you visit the wharves, correct? And I can't go to Belisaere. Every time I'm there, Cousin Ellemere tries to introduce me to some young, connected fellow from some distant town or village. Last time, it was Father's third cousin from Corvere, you know, the one on a diplomatic mission with his father. If I visit without a proper assignment, she'll have me engaged by sundown."
"Nonsense," said the cat. "It would take at least three days to get approval from your parents."
Nehima, about to sneer at her companion, stopped her pacing. Abruptly, she knelt down, on eye level with her companion.
"Mogget," she began tentatively, "couldn't… well, couldn't you say something to Mother? I don't mind puttering about the House, you know that. There's plenty to do. And when Cousin Sam returns, I could, I don't know, help him with his work. Or with the twins. I haven't seen them in ages, and Mother's always saying that family needs to be family. We could send out a letter today, even." Her excitement, rising as she talked through her genius plan, began to fade as the cat watched her coolly.
"No, I couldn't," he replied coldly, beginning to groom himself.
Nehima felt as if he had slapped her. Mogget had never taken that tone with her, the one he reserved for imbeciles, idiots, and her brothers in particular.
"Your parents have every right to send you to the Glacier. And it would be good for you, too. Filris is setting up shop in the Infirmary there, and you are could certainly use the practice with your healing spells. And besides, Sam and your younger siblings won't be back till mid spring, what with all the spells that need renewing along the length of the Wall on the Ancelstierran side. You would be alone for two seasons."
Nehima stretched out on the platform, her cheek on the surprisingly cool stones. She was quiet, so quiet, Mogget assumed after several long minutes that she had dozed off, when she whispered, "I hate my life. I hate being the 'Unseen,' the misplaced, the freak of the family. Damed's the Abhorsen-in-Waiting, Terciel's with the guard, Filris is the Infirmarian. Even the twins have an occupation, and they're barely ten. When will I find someplace I fit, Mogget?"
The cat swallowed his caustic reply. He knew only real, true dread would have pulled such a confession from his young, normally resilient friend. Watching her carefully, he sidestepped her question.
"Your mother was Unseen for some time. Things worked out in the end."
Nehima rolled to her back, nodding, her eyes oddly bright. If she sniffed, Mogget, displaying a sense for tact hitherto unknown, didn't comment.
"I won't talk to your parents. They're heading out to Estwael anyway, who knows when they shall return. But I will speak with the Wallmaker. You may be there all winter, but I daresay we can at least arrange for your return before spring's end."
Nehima lunged forward, and Mogget yowled, finding himself in a far too tight hug. She spun around giddily, dandling the cat in her arms.
"Thank you Mogget!" she said, smile suddenly brilliant.
"Let mph me go!" He hissed, forcing the words out of crushed lungs. "This is not dignified! I'll…!"
Nehima ignored his threats, having heard them before, and said more convincingly, when directed towards her older brothers. Instead, she kissed him on the head.
"I know, I know. You'll burn me, blast me past the Ninth Gate, feed me to a Mordicant," she listed, chuckling. She did, however, set him down, giving him a good scratch under the chin while she was at it.