Endless Knot, Chapter 6

[minutia_r]

Endless Knot

Chapter 6: Conrad

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 | Chapter 7

Fandom: The Chronicles of Chrestomanci

Pairings: Henrietta/Bernard, Conrad/Christopher

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 2000

Summary: "Still practicing to be a valet, Grant?" said Christopher when I came into his room with the tray.

"I need something to fall back on in case this whole enchanter thing doesn't work out," I said. Christopher laughed. Well, it had mostly been a joke.

Christopher and the young enchanters go to the circus. Conrad and Flavian go for a walk in the forest. Things go very wrong.

Never enough thanks to: morganna_le

I told Dr. Simonson, once he'd cleaned up my shoulder, that all I needed was a hot drink and a warm bath. He took my temperature fifteen times, and shone lights in my eyes, and told me to stand in a pentagram while he burned something that made me sneeze, but eventually he believed me. I made my escape while he muttered about Series Seven physiology and double-blind studies and the Royal Society of Medicine. I am all for the advancement of human knowledge, but Dr. Simonson makes me nervous.

The hot drink was heavenly, and the warm bath was better. I sank under the water until only my nose was sticking out, and decided that I was going to move permanently to Series Nine. I've heard the temperature never goes below freezing there. Then the dinner gong rang, and there was no other way I was going to get any news, so I went down to the schoolroom. I thought about going in a dressing gown—clothes seemed like so much work—but I'm not Christopher and I'd feel stupid trying to be.

Elizabeth threw herself at me as soon as I opened the door, and I staggered backwards. "Conrad! How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," I said, again. I felt like I'd never be done saying it. "Really."

"I'm so glad," said Elizabeth. "I told Christopher I'd hold him responsible and I will. As soon as he's feeling better I will murder him. Twice."

If Elizabeth was threatening to murder him, Christopher must have got back all right. But as soon as he's feeling better was worrying. "Please don't," I said.

"Then I will tell him your pleas have saved his life." She laughed, and stepped aside, and let me come into the schoolroom. The maids had already brought in the food and left to help with dinner for the adults. Jason had his feet up on one of the desks, and Bernard was helping himself to vast quantities of mashed potato, and Henrietta was sitting with her hands in her lap and an angelic expression on her face, as if she had definitely not eaten Elizabeth's pudding while her back was turned.

"How is Christopher? And Flavian?" I said. The last time I'd seen Flavian, being carried into Dr. Simonson's surgery by Mordecai, he'd looked like death.

"Resting," said Elizabeth, "but out of danger. Both of them. They should be up and about in a few days, Dr. Simonson says."

"But I doubt," said Bernard, looking up from his pile of mashed potatoes with a grin, "that Flavian will be wanting to take a walk with any of his students again, any time soon. Congratulations, Conrad; you've accomplished what no one else could."

I hoped I hadn't really ruined Flavian's pleasure in walking, but when I came to think of it, I rather thought I must have. It's my evil fate again! I thought before I remembered. I smiled back, uneasily. I could see Bernard had meant it—not kindly; kind isn't a word I'd use for Bernard—but as a compliment, anyway.

"You've got to tell us how you saved all those kids," Jason said.

Elizabeth rounded on him. "Let him eat first!"

"Don't fuss, Elizabeth," said Henrietta, eyeing my pudding greedily.

I'd had an early breakfast before I'd left with Flavian, and nothing since, but I thought I'd rather talk than eat. I'd never spent time with the other enchanters without Christopher before. It wasn't that I thought the rest of them only tolerated me because of Christopher—except that I'd sort of thought that the rest of them only tolerated me because of Christopher. But I told them what had happened, and Jason's eyes went wide and fascinated when I talked about the demons, and Elizabeth laughed at the part about Christopher's scarf, and Henrietta frowned and stared intently when I tried to describe what it was like inside the doors. I felt warm and happy and liked.

The odd part was, that didn't make me miss Christopher any less. It made me miss him more.

Sunday lunch was worse. As Elizabeth said, between Millie and Christopher and Flavian, the castle was starting to seem more like a hospital. There wasn't any more of the previous day's events to tell, but nothing else seemed quite so interesting. And everyone was stepping carefully around Gabriel. Of the people who could usually be counted on to talk no matter what, Dr. Simonson was seeing to Flavian, and Bernard was oddly quiet. By the way he and Henrietta stole glances at each other when the other wasn't looking, and didn't look at each other otherwise, I guessed something unfinished had come up between them. I hoped they settled it soon. It was uncomfortable.

So when I saw, in the corner of my vision, one of the maids coming down the corridor with a covered tray, I asked to be excused. Gabriel just nodded. If no one was going to believe me when I said I was perfectly fine, I might as well use it to my advantage.

As soon as I was out of sight of the dining hall, I translocated up to the landing of the back staircase. It was only a few dozen feet, and it left me weaker then sprinting those feet would have done—but I could translocate after all. Who knew what else I could do?

And I got there a few seconds before the maid, which was why I'd done it. I was just getting my breath back when Erica came up the stairs. I was glad it was Erica; I'm not sure I'd have dared try this on, say, Imogen.

"Is that for Christopher?" I said. "Do you mind if I take it up? I'm going that way anyway."

Erica frowned. "You're just as good as he is, Master Conrad," she said. "You shouldn't be running around after him."

"So I've been told," I said apologetically. "But I'd like to. This once?"

"You're really worried about him, aren't you?" she said. "Don't be. Always lands on his feet, does Master Christopher." But she handed me the tray.

"Thank you," I said, giving her my most brilliant smile. It wasn't as brilliant as one of Christopher's, but I do what I can.

"Still practicing to be a valet, Grant?" said Christopher when I came into his room with the tray. I had been at the castle two weeks, and I was almost used to Christopher's dressing gowns. This one was bright red and had a design in gold on it that, when it wasn't half-covered by a blanket, might have been a phoenix. It looked soft.

"I need something to fall back on in case this whole enchanter thing doesn't work out," I said. Christopher laughed. Well, it had mostly been a joke. "How are you feeling?" I went on, holding the tray in one hand and starting to clear things off the top of his bureau so I could set it down.

"Weak," Christopher complained. "Why is ordinary healing so slow? If I'd died I'd be in the pink of health by now." He wiggled his toes under the blanket. "I wonder, if Dr. Simonson had had to cut any of them off, would they be back in the next life?"

I snorted. "Now there's an experiment you could try," I said. "Do you think you could persuade Gabriel to go along, in the spirit of scientific inquiry? You chop off your toes, he puts out an eye . . ." My hand fell on something sticky, and I jerked it away. It was Master Dodd's heart, still transfixed with Flavian's penknife. "Christopher, why do you still have this?"

Christopher's laughter stopped as suddenly as if I'd turned off a tap. I was nearly sorry I'd asked—I like Christopher's laugh. "What do you know about ritual hunts?" he said.

I set down the tray and leaned against the wall. "That I never want to do one again."

"Right. Well, the reason you do a ritual hunt is to lay claim to a hunting ground, and establish its boundaries. That," he said, nodding at the grisly lump on his bureau, "is the key to Master Dodd's hunting ground—my hunting ground, now. I could hardly leave it behind."

"So why not turn it over to Gabriel?" I said.

"Gabriel once told me," said Christopher, "by way of refusing to save Millie from getting killed by her priestesses, incidentally—that it didn't matter what happened in Series Ten, since they were all savages there anyway. Now, his outlook has broadened somewhat since then . . . but he isn't the right person to have charge of the Tibetan underworld."

"And you are?" I said. "I don't think dying frequently is actually a qualification."

"Well—maybe not," said Christopher thoughtfully. "But leave it for now, Grant, all right?"

"All right," I said after a moment. I certainly didn't want to touch it again. And I didn't work for Gabriel yet.

I handed Christopher the mug of chocolate and sat down on his bed. "You seem fine to me," I said. "I think you just like having an excuse to lie in all day."

"Well," said Christopher. He sipped his chocolate, and put his free arm around me. "There is that."

I snuggled back against him. His dressing gown was soft. I closed my eyes and breathed in—chocolate, and fresh linen, and some sort of roast from the tray, and Christopher—the best smell in any world. I heard the soft sound of the mug being set down. "So," said Christopher. "What did Flavian say about me, that you're beginning to think he was right about?"

Introduce Christopher to the Prime Minister, and he'll have forgotten her name the next minute, but this—I hadn't remembered what I'd said, aside from a lot of shouting. "I'm sorry," I mumbled. "I shouldn't have said that, any of it. I didn't mean it."

Christopher didn't say anything, but he put forth such a strong sense of waiting that I had to go on. I don't think it was magic. I think it was just Christopher. "It wasn't—it wasn't anything, really. Just, he was worried about me. Being with you."

"He was worried!" said Christopher. "We were all frantic about you being with him—with complete justification, I might add. I tried to warn you. The man has a jinx."

"Not like that. Like this." I put my hand over his, and traced his fingers, for emphasis. "He thinks you're trifling with my tender boyish feelings."

"Ah," said Christopher, very neutrally. His arm tightened around me, and my shoulder where the firebird had caught it the day before gave a twinge, and I squirmed.

"Come on, Christopher, you're not—" then revelation hit, dizzying as a lungful of mountain air. "You are. You're actually afraid I'm going to tell you to go to hell, because of some stupid thing Flavian said."

Christopher's arm loosened, and I could feel him relax all along my back. He rested his chin on top of my head. "Don't be ridiculous," he said into my hair.

"Your last boyfriend must have been a real sweetheart," I said.

"My what?" said Christopher.

"Never mind," I said. The same languages are spoken across the Related Worlds, but concepts don't always translate. I twisted around so I could get at Christopher's mouth. There was a smudge of chocolate in one corner of it, and his lips were cracked and peeling from the cold the day before, and very red. I kissed them carefully. He made a small sound in the back of his throat, and ran his amazing fingers over the line of my jaw, and down my neck.

Whatever you called this, I liked it.

Comments

[crimsoncorundum.livejournal.com]

I'm running out of things to say, to convey how much I like this story. All I can say is thanks for distracting me from my troubles. :)

[minutia-r.livejournal.com]

I'm sorry to hear that you've been having troubles! But I'm glad I was able to distract you from them. And don't worry, you've conveyed how much you like this story well enough to put a smile on my face, anyway.