A/N: To everyone who reviewed, you guys are great. School's getting kind of rough, so I really appreciated hearing from you. Aptly enough, "guesser" was the only one who guessed where they've heard Cassiel's name before. Sorry, buddy – you're thinking of Kalliel. Nice try, though!
The title probably gives it away: In Lirael, Mogget says this to Sam: "Having been associated with the family for so long, I am simply aware of when my services are required. For example, when a new set of bells appears, suggesting that an Abhorsen-in-Waiting is ready to come into his inheritance. Having woken, I simply followed the bells. But the return of Cassiel's bells did not waken me."
Oh, and four years of relative inactivity have passed since the last chapter.
Cassiel's Bells
The rough bark felt good under Cassiel's fingers. He took a firmer grip, and swung himself up to the next branch. Wiping sweaty hair out of his eyes, the boy inched along the branch until he could see just over the wall, and squinted at the eastern riverbank.
Something was not right: he could see a flash of red on the stone ledge of the opposite shore. A colour like that did not belong here. With a start, Cassiel realized that it was a man. His tunic was scarlet, as was the large plume decorating his hat, and he was gazing dubiously at the stepping stones.
As he watched the man take a running leap for the first stepping-stone, Cassiel wondered what he should do. His mother was tending the herb garden, and his father was up in the study writing some book. By the time he went and got one of them, this stranger would have reached the house. The boy bit his lip, and looked frantically around the island from his perch in the branches. His sharp eyes caught sight of something white coming down the steps of the house.
"Mogget!" the boy called, trying to conceal his relief.
The albino dwarf trotted onto the north lawn and stopped under the fig tree. "What is it, young master?" he asked sardonically as he craned his head. "Always happy to come when called. No trouble for me. None at all."
Cassiel ignored Mogget's derisive tone and jumped easily down from the tree. "A man is coming to the house over the stepping-stones," he explained as he straightened up. "He will be here soon!"
The dwarf cocked an eyebrow in a casual, unhurried fashion intended to provoke the boy. "And what did he look like?"
"Dressed in red, with a red feather on his hat – Shouldn't you be running for my father or something?" Cassiel demanded. It was all he could do to keep from hopping from foot to foot.
"No," Mogget said, his voice so calm that Cassiel wanted to throw something at him. "You are describing one of the King's messengers. Since he got through the passageway guarded by sendings, you can assume that he's friendly. You may as well welcome him."
The boy hesitated for a second, then shrugged and headed for the eastern courtyard, followed by the dwarf. What the dwarf had said made sense, although he would never admit that aloud. He reached the gate in the limestone wall just as the messenger landed, flailing, on the wooden platform. Cassiel stopped at the top of the steps and watched the messenger wring water from his hat. The scarlet plume looked very bedraggled.
"Welcome to Abhorsen's House," Cassiel announced, barely suppressing a grin. The messenger was completely soaked by the spray from the river.
The man jumped at being addressed, and peered up at him before quickly bowing low. "Thank you," he panted. He gulped for air, then settled his ruined hat on his head. "Those stepping-stones are quite the challenge, aren't they?" he asked, swinging a large bag onto his shoulder.
The messenger cheerfully mounted the steps, and Cassiel led him into the courtyard. Behind them Mogget shut the gate, grumbling the whole while under his breath as the messenger stared at the odd little creature.
"Come over to the house," the boy said, deigning to cut across the north lawn instead of following the red brick path. "I'll get my father."
"Actually," the messenger declared as they strolled over the grass, "I am here to see you."
The boy burst into laughter and carried on walking – but stopped still in the shade of the fig tree when he realized that the messenger was no longer at his side. He turned back to the man, who looked amused, although his eyes were serious. "You're… not joking," Cassiel said finally.
"You are Cassiel Abhorsen, are you not?" asked the messenger, wrinkling his forehead.
"Yes," the boy answered, still surprised by the news. Why would anyone want to see him? Everyone who came here was always clamouring for an audience with Abhorsen, usually to complain about some Free Magic creature that threatened their village. Cassiel had just assumed that this messenger was here on similar purpose.
The man smiled at his obvious bewilderment. "I have a gift for you." He unslung his pack and lifted out a bundle wrapped in green cloth. Cassiel accepted the bundle with faltering hands. "Go on", the messenger encouraged.
Cassiel glanced at Mogget, who was watching the whole thing intently, then opened the bundle. He gasped aloud in surprise. In his hands was a bandolier of bells!
He was only fourteen years old, yet Cassiel had already accompanied his father into Death on countless occasions, and a few times had even wielded one of the bells. He knew many of the different types of rings already, and was familiar with the instruments of a necromancer. But to have a bandolier all for his own…
"Who – what –?" he stammered, mentally cursing his temporary loss of coherent speech.
The messenger grinned. "They were crafted by the Wallmakers especially for you," he said kindly. "One of the Clayr's daughters – Neryl, I believe – Saw that you would be getting your own bandolier of bells, so the King ordered these to be made. All the best Wallmakers, like Masters Felio and Nehima, helped to make them. They say the old Wallmaker herself had a hand in the work. Do you like them?"
"Very much," Cassiel answered happily. He buckled the bandolier over his surcoat, adjusting the straps. The weight of the bells felt oddly familiar. But he supposed that was because he had secretly tried on his father's bandolier several times when he was younger. Some children played at slaying dragons. He had played at banishing the Dead.
"Cassiel! What are you doing on the grass?"
The boy turned to see his mother hurrying over to them. "Mother!" he said in a rush, hoping that their visitor would distract her. "This is a messenger from King Berillan. He brought me a gift."
The messenger swept off his hat and sank into an elaborate bow. "It is an honour, Lady Malia," he said impressively. "I apologize for treading on your magnificent lawn."
The woman smiled at his propriety. "Won't you come in?" she asked politely. "I am sure that my husband would like to speak with you." Cassiel nearly rolled his eyes. It was amazing how his mother could change from bellowing dragon-lady to gracious hostess in the blink of an eye.
The messenger chatted amicably with the lady of the House, and Cassiel followed the adults over the north lawn to the door. His mother lightly scolded him for walking on the grass and not keeping to the paths, and sent him to wash his hands and face. As the boy poured cold water into a basin, he reflected that the tongue-lashing had not been as severe as he had expected. Thank goodness for visitors!
When Cassiel entered the hall, still wearing his new bandolier, the messenger was seated at the table with a steaming cup of tea in his hands. Cassiel's parents were listening as the messenger explained the purpose of his visit. "It was Neryl, daughter of the Clayr, who Saw your son's bells," he was saying. "Naturally, they were crafted by the Wallmakers. They are an exact copy of your own, Lord Abhorsen, except slightly smaller and not quite so powerful."
Abhorsen turned his dark eyes on his son. "Come here, Cassiel," he said softly.
The boy walked around to his father's side of the table. The man reached out with a white finger and placed it lightly on Ranna, as if feeling for the power within the bell. He did the same for each of the bells, ending on Astarael.
"Are they dangerous?" Cassiel's mother asked, failing to keep the anxiety out of her voice.
Abhorsen shook his dark head. "They would be dangerous in the hands of someone untrained," he answered. "But Cassiel will be able to wield these. It will make teaching him my craft much easier, for one."
Malia bit her lip, but nodded her acceptance. "If a daughter of the Clayr Sees something, we will have to trust it," she sighed.
From where he stood by Abhorsen's chair, Mogget let out a small snort. "Cassiel's bells," the dwarf muttered. "What will they think of next?"
"Yes, thank you, Mogget," Lord Abhorsen snapped, and the dwarf wisely stopped talking.
The messenger finished his tea with a slurp, and rose from his place. "Well, I should be going," he pronounced. "I left my horse at the mouth of the passageway with the sending, and I hope nobody has stolen him. Is there – um – any easier way to get back to shore without going over those stepping-stones?"
"Not really," Abhorsen replied without the least hint of guilt. Indeed, Cassiel thought that his father sounded quite cheery. He was probably picturing this man leaping from stone to stone, sodden hat in hand. The observatory was really the best place in the House from which to watch visitors come and go.
"I will show you out," Malia said, rising also. Unlike her husband and son, she did not appreciate the source of entertainment that the stepping-stones could be.
When they had left the room, Cassiel sat down at the table. He stared at his father's white hands which looked all the paler for being smudged with black ink. "Working on that book?" the boy asked, wrinkling his nose.
The corner of Abhorsen's mouth twitched into a smile. "Yes, I was," he answered. "That book, as you so graciously call it, will be very useful."
"I'm learning all I need to from you," Cassiel protested.
"You will not be the last Abhorsen," the man shrugged. "Years from now, one of your descendents will be doing my job. And you and I will not be there to teach them all we know about Death, and the bells, and Free Magic creatures. If I write a book like this, then they will be able to find out anything they need to know."
"Won't they have their fathers to tell them?" asked Cassiel.
"Some of them might not be so lucky," Abhorsen pointed out. A brief silence fell between them. Then Abhorsen reached out, and lightly touched Cassiel's bandolier. "They look well on you," he smiled. That smile widened into a grin at a sudden thought: "Tell you what – why don't we put them to the test next time I get a message about a Free Magic creature?"
"Really?"
"Really," Abhorsen promised, just as eager as his son. "Let's see if a Hish can stand up to two Saraneths!"
Cassiel was struck by a sudden horrifying thought. "But what about mother?"
His father's smile faltered a little. "She might have to be persuaded," Abhorsen admitted, "but if you're to take my place when you grow up, it's best if you train with me."
A small cackle startled them both. They had completely forgotten that Mogget was still in the room. "Good luck with 'persuading' Lady Malia of anything," the dwarf snorted.
"Persuade me of what?"
Abhorsen, Cassiel, and Mogget looked up to see the woman standing in the doorway. Lord Abhorsen forced a wide smile that, to Cassiel, didn't look convincing at all. "Hello, my dear," his father said rather weakly, and Malia's eyes narrowed instantly with suspicion. Cassiel sighed heavily; this was already off to a bad start. He contemplated stealing out of the room, but decided that staying to watch his father try to squirm his way out of this one would be vastly entertaining.
As Abhorsen blushed and stuttered under his wife's steely gaze, a sending drifted into the Hall and handed a sealed scroll to the master of the house. Cassiel's father seized the opportunity for escape and opened it right there at the table. As he read the message his face went white – whiter than usual, that is.
Cassiel wondered what could be in the message. The scroll was the sort that could be tied to the feet of messenger-pigeons, and the seal was red wax stamped with a crown – an urgent message from Belisaere, then.
"What is it, darling?" Malia asked, all thoughts of hard questions forgotten.
Abhorsen gulped. "It's from the Prince," he said shakily. "He writes that the Wallmaker's old plans for the Great Stones have been stolen." Cassiel's mouth dropped open in shock.
"Hmph," snorted Mogget from his corner. "That scatterbrained old woman should keep a closer eye on her things."
They all ignored him. Abhorsen stuffed the message into his pocket, and the chair scraped as he got up from the table. "I need to leave as soon as possible," he told the sending, who bowed and left to make preparations. "I've been summoned to the palace," Cassiel's father explained to his family as he looked around distractedly, wondering what he should do first.
"Can I go with you?" Cassiel asked eagerly.
Abhorsen paused and looked at the boy. Cassiel's mother watched nervously, saying nothing. "All right," Abhorsen finally agreed. "But this is very urgent business. You'll have to keep up, and you must remember your manners."
"I will," nodded Cassiel, scarcely believing his good fortune.
His father smiled. "Get ready quickly, then."
Cassiel whooped as he sped out of the Hall. He had his own bells, and he was accompanying his father on important business to the palace! Not even the sound of Mogget's uproarious laughter could spoil his good mood.
A/N: Yay, Mogget! It was about time we saw him again, wouldn't you agree? He probably just spent the last few years sulking around the house. Now before I leave you, I want to ask: is there anything in particular you would like to see explained in this story? If I haven't thought of it yet, I'll try to work it in, and you'll get credit for the idea! I've got most of the plot mapped out already, but I want to make sure that I'm not missing anything before it's too late. Thanks so much!