Marked by Death (Necromancer #1) - Kaje Harper Page 0,54
if he was wearing designer Pierre Cardin, instead of a no-name button-down with the cuffs turned up.
Beside him in the opulent foyer of the Guild hall, Silas waited his turn calmly, as if he got butlered every day. Darien said, “Thanks,” over his shoulder, and the butler inclined his head, turning to Silas. It was like some old-fashioned comedy of manners, with Darien as the little match boy.
Except after dealing with Silas’s overcoat, the butler went smoothly to one knee and asked Grim, “Would you like a warm towel for your paws, sir?”
Okay, not quite old-fashioned.
Grim shook one foot and said, “No. The steps were well-cleared.”
“My staff aims to please.” The butler stood. “If you gentlemen will come this way?”
Darien whispered to Silas as they followed the butler, “Does he know about—?” He gestured half a rune with a fingertip.
“Of course.” Silas gripped Darien’s elbow with icy fingers. “All the staff of the Guild hall are sorcerers in their own right. Protecting the premises and working in the Guild library are also their duties.”
And wiping cats’ paws? Darien let the question go as the butler swung open an impressively tall door and announced, “Necromancer Thornwood and guest,” to whomever was beyond.
Silas let go of Darien’s arm which was a relief to his elbow, but left him feeling unmoored. He made sure that he had a light shield raised, transparent but present, and followed Silas in.
Passing through the doorway rang a chime in his head that staggered him. He caught his balance on the doorframe. A tall, lean man across the room said, “Oh dear, the door wards do hit some people hard, until they’re recognized. You must be Silas’s boy. Do come in.”
Silas said, “Darien, this is Necromancer Worthington. Sir, my apprentice, Darien Green.”
Worthington’s dark brows drew together. “I thought he wasn’t anyone’s apprentice.”
“Not officially. But I’ve begun his instruction, and he’s proving an apt pupil.”
“One more thing to discuss, then,” Worthington said smoothly. “But first, come have a drink, and bring the young man to be introduced.”
Darien was offered a range of liquor and wine, and accepted a glass of something white, with no intention of drinking any of it. Napping and eating had given him a bit more energy, but he still felt logey. Although tripping over the line of dead rats Grim had left outside their bedroom door had been a wake-up call, of sorts. Silas had just told the cat “Thank you” and carried on, so Darien hadn’t inquired what kind of message that was.
After Worthington, he was introduced to Healer Snow, a plump woman with a mass of white hair and shrewd blue eyes. Her greyhound familiar sniffed Darien up and down thoroughly and muttered something about “run down,” which Darien wasn’t sure was a comment on his physical condition, or how easy he’d be to hunt.
Sorcerer Locke peered at him intently from under bushy gray eyebrows, bulky arms folded unwelcomingly across his chest. His familiar was a small owl, perched on his shoulder. The bird said nothing, but its head swiveled a hundred and eighty degrees to watch Darien as he was led off to meet Norgaard.
Unlike the rest, Norgaard gave Darien a little incline of his head and said, “Pleased to meet you.” At their feet, Grim bumped foreheads with a rangy black cat half his size, and the felines headed off to a corner of the room. Norgaard said to Silas, “We should give Mal and Grim more chances to get together.”
“Indeed. And you and I as well.”
Norgaard stuck out his hand, a gesture no one else in the room had bothered to offer. Silas clasped it, and an odd look came over his face.
Norgaard held his hand to Darien in turn. “Good to make your acquaintance, Green.”
An instant before his hand touched the sorcerer’s, Darien heard Grim hiss. Silas said nothing, but the very quality of his silence set Darien’s teeth on edge. Without planning to, he set off a little snap of spark between his fingers and Norgaard’s.
Norgaard yanked his hand back, just as Grim yowled and jumped at Mal. Locke cursed and gestured, and two spheres of energy slammed into place around the cats, separating them. Grim hissed and whirled to glare at them. “What have you done to Silas?”
Darien took a big step away from Norgaard, shoving more density into his shield, and powered up a fire rune with a lot more flame than spark. Norgaard raised both hands. “Now, take it easy. No one needs to get