Marked by Death (Necromancer #1) - Kaje Harper Page 0,43
last hours debauching him. Which I haven’t. More’s the pity.
From the doorway, Grim said, “Professor Stuffy’s starting to make little humphing sounds. Best get downstairs.”
“Professor Stuffy?” Darien cracked a smile.
“Don’t get cocky,” Silas warned. “Professor Ferngold is—” He moderated his words at the last moment, in case that gecko was wandering about in the walls. “—set in his ways, with a bit of an academic focus, but you don’t get to where he is without the power to back that up.”
Darien sobered. “What does he want?”
“To talk to you about the ghosts, primarily.” He chose his words carefully, with emphasis. “You can tell him how, in banishing the demon, we managed to clear them from you and transfer the energy to me. Precisely that.”
Something of his wariness must’ve shown, because Darien said, “And…” with a mimed gesture at his arm rather than words.
“Practitioners never share everything they know. He won’t with you either.”
“All right.” Darien’s smile was a thin, twisted version of his usual. “Lead on.”
Ferngold hadn’t left the study to snoop, but when Silas led the way in, the gecko did scamper down from the top of a high bookcase and up the sorcerer’s arm to his shoulder.
Silas said, “Professor Ferngold, this is Darien Green. Darien, Professor Ferngold and his familiar, Clicks.”
Clicks chittered shrilly, “I don’t see any ghosts.”
Silas nodded. “All gone, as I said.”
“Remarkable.” Ferngold gestured with a twirl of a finger. “Turn around for me, young man.”
Silas saw a muscle clench on the side of Darien’s jaw, but he pivoted obediently. Ferngold sketched a minor rune of detection, his spell pinging across Silas’s wards. Silas said nothing, although courtesy should have required the old man to ask permission in his own home. Low-key and calm will get rid of the old man fastest.
Ferngold frowned as Darien finished rotating. “I see no sign of ghosts in him now.”
“There were several,” Silas said.
“How many?”
“I didn’t count.” Darien probably had.
Ferngold turned to Darien. “Who’s your master?”
“My what?”
“Your instructor? Mentor? Where are you from?”
“I grew up over in Northfield.”
“Nonsense. I’d have heard about you before now.”
Darien blinked. “My house was right next to Silas’s, for years.”
Ferngold glared at Silas. “So you knew about him?”
“I left for college back when he was eight,” Silas said blandly.
“Hrrmph.”
“Knew what about me?” Darien asked.
“You glow with power, young man, ghosts or no. You should have a mentor, someone to take you in hand. With that kind of aura, you’ll just end up possessed again, if someone doesn’t get you in harness and teach you how to shield.” He looked Darien up and down, from roughly combed hair to sock-clad feet. “Someone who tolerates informality. I’ll give it some thought.”
“He’s staying with me,” Silas said before he could think better of it. I should’ve asked Darien first. But Darien didn’t look angry, just a bit nonplussed.
Ferngold’s bushy eyebrows climbed. “Mentorships are the decision of the Guild council, Thornwood.”
“Yes, of course, sir.” He needed to repair the damage, before Ferngold denied him out of spite. “But this is an unusual situation, and he’s much older than the usual apprentices. We’ve already worked together. I know the flavor of his power.”
“Worked together?” Ferngold asked Darien, “How did those ghosts get removed?”
Darien quoted, “In banishing the demon, we managed to clear the ghosts from me and transfer their energy to Silas.”
“During a banishment. Well, that is impressive.” There was a hint of wariness in his glance at Silas. “It seems necromancer Thornwood has hidden depths.”
Silas bowed his head slightly. As if you haven’t been steering me at the strongest demons for the last three years. The council surely had some idea of his worth. But he had tried to stay underestimated. That never hurt.
“Nonetheless, young Darien, your power does not have the tang of necromancy. It will be the job of the council to find you a proper mentor.”
Grim jumped up onto the desk. “Better leave things be, Professor,” the cat said. “These two work best together.”
Ferngold glared. “Who are you to tell the head of the Guild what to do?”
Grim stretched one needle-clawed paw out and admired it. “A familiar with precognition?” He batted a pencil off the desk, jumped down, and gave it a swat that had it careening off the far wall.
Ferngold harrumphed again, but with less certainty. “Well, the apprentice might as well stay here, for now. Thornwood should be capable of teaching him at least a few basic shielding techniques.”
“Yes, sir,” Silas agreed. “I’ll get right on that.”
“And Thornwood, we will be sending you