Free Songreaver by Andrew Hunter Page B

said, “I
just thought that…”
    Cenick raised his hand and smiled. “You honor
the gift by passing it on,” he said, “and the giver as well.”
    Garrett let out a little sigh of relief and
unbuckled the sword belt from his waist to pass it to Kent. “You’ll
need this to carry it,” he said.
    Kent was overjoyed with the additional gift
of the scabbard, until he realized that it gave his mother the
perfect opportunity to collect both the blade and the belt, for safekeeping .
    “Anything happen while I was gone?” Cenick
asked, “Did anyone try to bother you?”
    Garrett’s mouth hung open as his mind raced
to find a proper explanation for his trip to the auction house.
    Just then, a loud knock sounded at the
door.
    Cenick’s hands went to the pommels of his
knives. “Wait here,” he whispered.
    Mrs. Nash and Kent eyed Garrett nervously as
Cenick disappeared back into the hallway. Garrett offered them a
reassuring smile.
    The muffled sounds of conversation sounded
from the entryway then grew quiet.
    “Garrett!” Cenick shouted.
    “I’ll be right back,” Garrett whispered.
    He found Cenick standing in the doorway
beside a lean porter with the insignia of the Pikestat Auction
House embroidered on his sleeve and a foul look on his face.
    The auction house man looked at Garrett.
“Where do you want all this stuff… sir ?”
    Garrett looked past the two men in the door
to the line of wagons blocking the lane in front of Uncle’s house.
“Um, deliveries around the side, please,” Garrett said, hooking his
thumb in the direction of Uncle’s side gate.
    The Pikestat man hurried to comply, evidently
anxious to be done with the whole sorry affair.
    Garrett moved to the door to watch the wagons
full of stolen goods lurch into motion.
    “Did you have something to do with this?”
Cenick asked him.
    “Maybe,” Garrett answered, cautiously.
    Cenick raised one bushy eyebrow then hastened
off to open the receiving gate at the side of the house.
    Garrett leaned against the doorframe and
watched the wagons roll past, a little smile on his face.

Chapter Nine
    Ghausse padded to a stop in front of the
little shop at the end of the alley. Glistening rivulets of water
still ran down the glass of the front window as the streaks left by
a cleaning rag dried slowly in the cold, damp air. There did not
seem to be quite as many cages in the window of the pet shop as he
remembered, and the tiny, luminous creatures within them did not
burn as brightly as before. The wind whistled between the rooftops,
smelling faintly of ash, the breath of Padras , cold as
death.
    Garrett patted Ghausse's back and slid down,
his new boots crunching through the thin crust of a late-season
snow. He smiled, remembering the way he used to hesitate every time
he stood before this door. He put a gloved hand on the door handle
and pushed it open.
    Marla stood at the counter with her back to
the door, singing softly. She fell silent at the sound of the bell
and turned, smiling when she saw him.
    "Garrett!" she said.
    "Hi, Marla," he said. He gave her a puzzled
look. "What are you doing?"
    A line of cages in various sizes lined the
countertop. Inside each one, some small fae creature lay, hardly
moving, its light faded almost to darkness.
    Marla touched one of the cages, her face sad.
"We lost quite a few while I was gone," she said.
    Garrett looked around the dimly lit shop,
surprised at the number of empty cages lining the shelves.
    "Wasn't that guy supposed to feed them?"
Garrett asked, crossing the floor to stand at Marla's side.
    "Oh, Klavicus did stop by regularly," Marla
sighed, "but many of these creatures survive on hope alone, and I
never realized just how... hopeless Klavicus can be."
    Garrett shivered at the memory of the gaunt
elder vampire who worked as the doorman at the Thrinnian Embassy.
If he had to look at that face every day, he might fade to death
too. He looked with sympathy at the tiny creatures huddled in their
cages, at the