Page 11 of Geoffrey the Very Strange
"Goodness. That can't have been easy to get up the hill. Did he say what they were for?"
"Not… really? But he did tell me they were for his alternate, um,predeceased reanimation techniques.Raising the dead without blood magic was what I gathered."
"I see." She rose, taking the delivery packet with her to the canister shelf, where she began sorting and putting away the contents. "I feel like a terrible grandmother, hoping for his continued failure. That must sound dreadfully harsh to you. But even something innocuous like seashells can have unforeseen consequences in death magic. I hope he's careful, and I won't expect him for dinner tonight. If he had friends to check on him, I might worry less. But Geoffrey will tell you that necromancers don't have friends."
Aspic rose as well, to be polite. "I'm sorry, Grandma Tutti. Maybe he'll come back to weather working soon."
She half-turned to grant him a tiny smile. "I'll continue to hope. Now, I've kept you long enough. It was lovely meeting both of you. I'm sure I'll see you again soon."
As he eased the door shut behind him, he didn't bother to ask if that was just a polite phrase or a premonition. Itwasa small town. He'd see everyone again soon at some point.
Necromancers don't have friends… An ache settled under Aspic's heart as he thought about that phrase. He had a strong feeling that wasn't at all the reason Geoffrey didn't have friends. Aspic knew all too well that sometimes being so different made it easier to push everyone away.
4
Sorting Shells
"Boss? You've been staring at that page for an hour. You still in there?"
"It's in the configurations, Cecil." Geoffrey tapped the page in his openFine Art of Death. "I've been thinking in terminus of alchemical processes, and I suspect I've been going about this all wrong."
"Yeah? You're thinking it's in the energies of the lines?"
"Yes. I've been relegating on a classic pentarchy, which should have been counterintelligence from the start. If it's a new produce, why am I using old lines of enervate?"
Cecil patted his arm. "Slow down there. You're getting all excited, and I can't keep up with the wording."
"It's…" Geoffrey took two slow breaths. "Pentagram. I've been basing the experiments on pentagram patterns. We're going to work through configurations from the elemental patterns. Different combinations. Different placement."
"That sounds like a lot." Cecil frowned, as much as his shadow face could. "This is going to take a long time, isn't it? And we don't have any, ah, deceased subjects right now."
"I'm going to work through the night. We'll use plants. Not ideal, but should give us a basement."
"Baseline?"
"Yes."
The first issue, though, was sorting the shells. Geoffrey's ears burned with chagrin that he hadn't thought of this when he'd placed the order. He'd forgotten to specify whatkindof shells and hadn't even asked for the order to be sorted before delivery. Sloppy. Lack of forethought.
Cecil helped him spread a blanket on the floor and they worked one basket at a time. The clams, oysters, and mussels were familiar and went into separate containers without any difficulty.
"Is this spirally one the same as the other spirally one?" Cecil held up two long, pointed shells.
Geoffrey leaned in, squinting. "No, not quite. You see how they're constructed differently? This one that spirals more like a drill bit is…" He consulted his shell book. "Not shockingly, called an auger. While the one that looks more like a sea queen's crown is… a cerith."
With those carefully placed in their own piles, Cecil held up the next shell. "How about this one, boss? Some weird kind of clam?"
"That's a strumpet." Geoffrey stopped and closed his eyes with a sigh. "Limpet. It's a limpet."
The candle clock on his desk showed that night was well under way by the time they'd finished sorting and drawing sigils on the shell containers to ward against magical ricochets. One of the advantages and disadvantages of working in a cave was the lack of distraction because of the passage of time. It helped enormously when he was deeply involved in experiments or study, but the consequence was that his grandmother worried.
Geoffrey stood and stretched his back, eager to get on with things. "I don't suppose you'd run over to Grandma's and let her know we're working tonight?"
"Messenger service is an extra grommet. Duties outside of my contract." Cecil crossed his arms over his chest in a belligerent stance.
"Two grommets, since it's such short notice."I need to order grommets.
"Done deal. Back in a bit." Cecil dissipated into unformed shadow and zipped out of the laboratory.
