Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Garth Nix characters or stories! That needed to be said... Enjoy! ;0
Flowers, Guards And Strangers In The Dark
The Midsummer festival was upon them before Torrigan even realised it. His mother had never been happy with him wandering around the streets of Belisaere without a bodyguard or governess, but when Torrigan approached her with the question of whether he could accompany his new Guard friends into the city to see the festivities, she still proposed at least one bodyguard to follow them round. Rogir, the Queen explained frankly, never went into Belisaere alone for she always had one undercover guard tailing him wherever he went. And if the Queen asked Rogir to accompany Torrigan and his friends into the heart of Belisaere, he would only abandon his little brother to the hands of cut-throats, kidnappers and Charter only knew what else! Torrigan knew she was probably right, but it didn't stop the disappointment tainting the excitable mood of the festival morning.
"It's like she doesn't trust me!" Torrigan muttered to Elsie over breakfast, keeping his voice down so that the Queen would not overhear him. She was talking to Rogir – or arguing with him, from the sound of raised voices – but Torrigan didn't want to risk being banned from visiting the city altogether. "Maybe she doesn't even want to trust me."
"Sorry?" Elsie shook her head, looking nervous. "I wasn't listening. Oh, Torri, I'm going to forget all the steps, I know it! I'm going to make an fool out of myself!"
"Just make sure you don't step on Logan's feet, or smack him in the eye," Meredith whispered softly as she passed. "We don't want him to get an injury, do we? I mean, just think of the shame of it when Logan has to explain that the reason he was off duty was because the littlest Princess is a lumbering, clumsy ass!"
The argument which had ensued had distracted the Queen and Crown Prince from their own quarrels at the head of the table. After several minutes of shouting at one another, Meredith stormed out of the room in one direction, Elsie was dragged out by the Queen in another, and Rogir hauled a struggling Torrigan over to the open window and sloshed a cup of iced water in his face in order to cool his rage.
When Torrigan finally found himself roaming the streets with his five friends, he was calm once more, and awed by the sights and smells around him. He even forgot the grim-faced bodyguard who flanked him and his friends in the novelty of the day. People laughed with each other and danced in the streets in time to street performers' off-key instruments, vendors shouted out the prices for their delicious smelling foods from all across the Kingdom, and girls with yellow flowers darted in amongst the crowd, draping strings of sweet smelling blossom around cute boys' necks. The young Guardsmen all whistled and cheered as the first of their group was snared by one such flower girl, and the boy turned beetroot at the sound of his friend's jest. Torrigan couldn't help laughing too, but stopped abruptly as he felt a string of flowers brush down his neck. He glanced at the girl, surprised, hearing the renewed cheers and whistles coming from his friends.
"Thank you." Torrigan cringed inwardly, embarrassed by the fact that his formality had been his only way to overcome his initial shock. The girl winked in response, then darted back into the crowd the way she'd come.
The friends pushed on through the crowd, Torrigan ignoring the disapproving look that the bodyguard was shooting back over his shoulder in the direction the flower girl had run. It was only as the Prince and his chums were about to round the corner when Torrigan suddenly realized what was making the bodyguard so edgy: the flower girls were all handing out yellow flowers. The flowers on the two strands Torrigan and his friend had received were red. But why was that making the man so nervous?
Music started somewhere in front of him, making Torrigan immediately turn, forgetting the bodyguard. The parade had started! Still laughing and jesting, the five friends pushed their way forwards towards the main road, eager to see the approaching dancers and gymnasts. Torrigan peered through shoulders, jumping as high as he could in order to see over the sea of heads before them. Being in the streets like a normal civilian was so much better than sitting along side his mother in her little box! When he finally caught sight of Elsie amongst the dancers, Torrigan roared and clapped, almost deafening his friends. Unsurprisingly, he was not the only person cheering for the Princess, so Torrigan's enthusiasm did not make him stand out too much. Logan Francis, Elsie's dancer partner, was surprisingly not at her side. He was amongst the gymnasts that came after the dancers, not preforming the minor acrobatics the Guard usually preformed for displays, but far more intricate, stunning leaps and twists. The crowd immediately erupted into howls and cheers.
"Is there nothing that guy can't do?" shouted one of Torrigan's friends, then all five of them yelped in surprise as Logan landed on the ground right in front of them.
"Try keeping a smile – on your face while – trying to – breathe!" he gasped, then launched himself into a back flip in time with another gymnast.
Since joining the Guard, Torrigan had made friends with many of its other members, including Logan. The older Guard, though still young in face and body, took his young worshipers for gymnastic lessons and Charter skills. Torrigan was a natural, everyone with eyes could see that, and it had not been long until Torrigan had been given more books to read up on fighting Marks. Things couldn't have been better.
"Shall we go down to the main stand and see the actual dances?" someone yelled back. "I'd quite like to see how Logan fairs with the whole dancing thing – if he doesn't strain himself here, first."
Torrigan and his friends let out a shout of mutual agreement, and the boys immediately darted off towards the main stand, desperate not to miss the show. All the while, the glum-faced bodyguard forced his way along behind.
---
As Torrigan and his friends made their way back towards the palace, it was already growing dark. Lights had been lit around them, lighting their way through the uneven cobbles of the streets. Torrigan was still laughing, ducking a pretend punch one of the other boys threw at him. The bodyguard growled, unimpressed once more, then strode forwards as a play fight broke out amongst the boys. The Queen had told him that under no circumstances was Torrigan allowed to get into any fights. Before he could reach them, though, two of the boys shot off towards an alley, chasing a third and shouting, one of them strung round with a garland of red flowers. The bodyguard could not see the boys' faces through the dimming light. There was still one boy who wore a strand of red flowers amongst the two remaining, and the bodyguard seized him by the shoulder.
"Sir, I'm afraid I cannot let--" His voice trailed off. The boy with the red garland around his neck was not Torrigan.
Torrigan stopped running before he reached the end of the alley, shaking his head as he watched his two friends continue on. He lent back against the cool wall with a snort, grinning widely, when a hand suddenly reached out and grabbed his shoulder.
"What the--"
"Don't!" the stranger hissed quietly, making Torrigan's blood run cold. "I mean you no harm, boy."
"Who are you?" Torrigan demanded fiercely, feeling the stranger's fingers pull at the garland around his neck. "Tell me who you are!"
The man chuckled in response. "My, my, my, what a rude little boy I've found here! Did no one ever teacher you manners?" Torrigan made to pull away, but the pressure on his shoulder increased. "Oh, no, you don't!"
"Let me go!" Torrigan growled, feeling terror surging through his veins, fueling his anger. "I'm warning you!"
He tried to move once more, but the stranger pulled him back. Immediately Torrigan swung round to face the man, aiming hard and low, but the stranger grabbed his other arm. The man's fingers made to touch the Charter mark on Torrigan's forehead, but the boy ducked his head out the way, stamping down hard on the stranger's foot. He let out a yelp of pain. The string of flowers fell away from Torrigan's neck.
"Oi!" Torrigan was released. The bodyguard was racing up the alley towards them, freeing his sword. "You have no business with this boy!"
"Forgive me, kindly sir," the stranger hastened. "There has been a simple misunderstand--"
"Who are you?" the bodyguard growled, holding Torrigan back away from the stranger. He was cloaked, his face hidden by the heavy hood. "Remove that--"
"I am a traveler," the man said quickly. "That's all."
The bodyguard caught sight of Torrigan's two friends and called them back. The three boys hastened away from the bodyguard and stranger, heading back to the two other confused boys. The bodyguard waited for a moment, then rounded on the stranger once more. "Get out of my sight, and stay away from that boy!" he snarled. "Street filth!"
The stranger bowed his head, hand over heart. "I meant no dishonesty, sir," he said, and then he was gone.
---
"Curse and blazes!" the necromancer hissed, pacing the empty common room of the inn restlessly. His movements were watched by several young eyes. "That boy was strong. I could feel the Charter within him!" He glared at the watching teenagers before him, and spat, "He was more powerful than some of you."
"Why didn't you manage to get him?" someone asked hesitantly. "Wasn't he interested?"
"No, I didn't even get a chance to speak with him properly," the necromancer hissed. "And he had some sort of guardian with him. Curses and blazes to him, the little fool!"
"Uncle!" A girl popped her head around the door, grinning slightly. "Uncle, I must speak with you!"
The necromancer sighed wearily, nodding his head. "All right, Erin. The rest of you sorry excuses can get out of here!" The teenagers all rose, muttering under their breath, but the necromancer suddenly called one back. "Not you, Joss. I need to remind you why we never go near guards." Joss cringed, remembering his close encounter he'd had with one of the Queen's guards. "Erin, enter."
The girl swept in, dumping a basket with a few remaining red garlands within on a chair. She walked over to the necromancer, kissing him briefly on both cheeks. "I have found you a powerful one, Uncle. He is a...a little forward around women, but I'm sure you can overlook that."
"I don't need anyone who will be easily distracted," the necromancer snapped. "All right, Erinel. Where is he?"
Erin smiled, indicating the door. "He's just outside, with a group of friends. It wasn't hard persuading them to follow me here. There is another with him that might just be suitable for recruitment, but he is not as powerful."
"Bring him here, then."
Erin nodded, turning. As she passed the waiting youth, she grinned at him. "Evening, Joss." A few minutes later, she returned, dragging on the arm of a handsome young man, who in turn dragged a half drunk friend behind him. "Here they are, Uncle."
The necromancer glanced over the two youths before him, lips thin with disapproval. He took a step forwards, holding out a hand. "Good evening, sirs."
The young man let go of his friend's arm, and he immediately toppled to the floor, unable to control his snorting laughter. The young man rolled his eyes, turning back to shake the necromancer's hand. "Nice to meet you. Erm, why are we here? Oh, shut up, Giryl!"
"Why don't we sit down and discus this over a mug of beer?"
"I'd better not," the young man said with a grin. "Or else I'll end up like my friend. So, what proposition are you...proposing?"
He is strong, the necromancer thought, watching as his niece helped the drunken lad up off the floor. But his is also arrogant. He also has a great thirst for knowledge and power, that is clear enough. The man chuckled inwardly. Oh, yes. This should be easy!
"Have you been school in Charter Magic?" the necromancer asked, as they sat around the fireside a few minutes later. "What do you think of it? Is it a little...tame?"
"Of course I've been tutored in it," the young man replied. "Now you mention it, it does seem a little tame. But I suppose that's how it must be."
"Not always."
"Ah, then you would be speaking of Free Magic." The young man faltered, clearly guessing what the man before him was. "Is this what the subject of your proposal is?"
"You are clever, my young friend," the necromancer answered calmly. "Very clever. Charter Magic requires skill, I'll give you that, but Free Magic requires intelligence. Accuracy. You have those qualities, I can see."
"Are you clever?" the young man retorted stiffly. "You are talking about...darker matters than are allowed in this city. And if you really are what I think you are, you are risking your life."
"I have spelled the area," the necromancer reassured, then took a large swig of beer. "No one shall overhear. No one of importance, anyway."
"Are you so sure?"
The necromancer sighed. He thinks he's so important. Oh, dear. "I am proposing you join me, good sir. Test yourself, allow yourself the chance to try your hand at an art far more intricate and worthy than the simple confinements of Charter Magic. I could make you powerful! I could make you even more powerful than the Abhorsen."
The young man snorted. "And say I was tempted. Would you except anyone who was willing enough into your...group?"
"Status, wealth, family, it--"
"Would you?" The young man held the necromancer's gaze calmly, eyes demanding an answer. No, ordering an answer. "I'm interested."
"Good," the necromancer answered, setting down his mug. "Then I will require your name."
"Rogir." The young man hesitated, glancing back at Joss and Erin. "Prince Rogirek."
"What!" The necromancer stared at the young man before him, the started to laugh helplessly. The other two followed his example. "Oh, my dear boy, that is a hearty jest!"
"Check my Charter mark if you want," Rogir growled, offended. "You shall see that I do not lie."
The necromancer smirked, standing and holding out his hand. He touched the Charter mark on Rogir's forehead, then withdrew his hand with a hiss of surprise. "You...you really are the Crown Prince!"
"I said I wasn't lying," Rogir replied tartly. "Now, does your offer still stand? Or are you too scared to take the risk? You should be more careful as to who you make your propositions to."
The necromancer sat back down in his seat, staring dumbly at the Prince before him. He turned suddenly, shooting a furious glare at his niece, who hung her head. Why had the foolish girl brought him a Prince! Of the thousands of people in Belisaere on the day of the Midsummer festival, and she had to bring him a Prince! And yet the Prince had seemed sincere enough. He did not seem likely to run to his mummy up in the palace and tell of his encounter in the inn, and it was true enough that he had an interest in Free Magic. It was wavering with the realisation that he would not be able to really understand its full potential for damage, destruction, death, but if the necromancer managed to enroll the boy, rekindle that youthful fancy...
"Can I trust you?" the necromancer asked darkly, glaring at the boy with his icy blue eyes afire with threat. "You are close to both the Queen and Abhorsen."
"I do not care for the Abhorsen," Rogir answered truthfully. "You can trust me, I swear. If your willing to teach me, then I am more than willing to learn."
---
Ooooh! That's it, and Rogir is being a bit of an idiot. Silly boy! Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Llamas, Ginger-Bizkit :)
