It was strangely simple. And strangely made all the sense in the world.
Perhaps it wasn't as strange as it seemed at first. Paddy had seen it time and time again, when two people vocalised a relationship or reminisced old times together, and the bonds between them almost visibly strengthened. He may not be able to track this spell the way Solomon or the angels could, but he knew he'd be able to see it all the same. And Paddy found himself looking forward to it - most of the sorcerers in the circle were over four hundred years old. Their stories would be fascinating.
"Campfire stories?" Fletcher asked. "That's all?"
Tanith had leaned forward to put her chin in her hands. "Not just campfire stories. The best campfire stories you're ever going to hear."
"How do you know?"
Tanith laughed. "I grew up on those stories. Didn't you grow up on stories you loved? Can you imagine hearing those stories told by the characters who were in them?"
"Not really."
"Then just listen. You won't regret it."
It was impossible to tell what the skeletal figure in the middle of the circle was thinking, but he didn't move until Fletcher decided not to respond and sunk onto his elbows behind him. When Skulduggery did move, it was to nod slowly, empty eye-sockets fixed on Gabe. "As ready as I'll ever be."
"Good." Saracen dropped down onto the floor and settled himself onto his stomach, propping his head up on his hands. "Am I allowed to lie down? I'm lying down. I'm going to start, because the lot of you have about a century of stories on me and we'd be here all week before I could get a word in edgeways. Remember when I first found you? Sometime around 1870, or 1880... could have been closer to the 1900s, actually. I don't remember anymore. But I do remember saving the life of Erskine's tent."
1870. At which point Saracen was already how old? Paddy shook his head, too jaded to be anything other than amused.
"What do you mean, my tent?" Erskine frowned, joining Saracen on the floor.
"You were going to set it on fire. Something about being insane due to dangerous sleep-deprivation?"
Erskine's eyes closed. "I forgot about that. I can't believe I forgot about that. Skulduggery wouldn't let me forget about it for weeks afterward."
"Are we already starting?" asked Skulduggery. "I thought Merlin had to enact it."
Saracen shrugged. "What's wrong with hitting the ground running?"
no subject
Perhaps it wasn't as strange as it seemed at first. Paddy had seen it time and time again, when two people vocalised a relationship or reminisced old times together, and the bonds between them almost visibly strengthened. He may not be able to track this spell the way Solomon or the angels could, but he knew he'd be able to see it all the same. And Paddy found himself looking forward to it - most of the sorcerers in the circle were over four hundred years old. Their stories would be fascinating.
"Campfire stories?" Fletcher asked. "That's all?"
Tanith had leaned forward to put her chin in her hands. "Not just campfire stories. The best campfire stories you're ever going to hear."
"How do you know?"
Tanith laughed. "I grew up on those stories. Didn't you grow up on stories you loved? Can you imagine hearing those stories told by the characters who were in them?"
"Not really."
"Then just listen. You won't regret it."
It was impossible to tell what the skeletal figure in the middle of the circle was thinking, but he didn't move until Fletcher decided not to respond and sunk onto his elbows behind him. When Skulduggery did move, it was to nod slowly, empty eye-sockets fixed on Gabe. "As ready as I'll ever be."
"Good." Saracen dropped down onto the floor and settled himself onto his stomach, propping his head up on his hands. "Am I allowed to lie down? I'm lying down. I'm going to start, because the lot of you have about a century of stories on me and we'd be here all week before I could get a word in edgeways. Remember when I first found you? Sometime around 1870, or 1880... could have been closer to the 1900s, actually. I don't remember anymore. But I do remember saving the life of Erskine's tent."
1870. At which point Saracen was already how old? Paddy shook his head, too jaded to be anything other than amused.
"What do you mean, my tent?" Erskine frowned, joining Saracen on the floor.
"You were going to set it on fire. Something about being insane due to dangerous sleep-deprivation?"
Erskine's eyes closed. "I forgot about that. I can't believe I forgot about that. Skulduggery wouldn't let me forget about it for weeks afterward."
"Are we already starting?" asked Skulduggery. "I thought Merlin had to enact it."
Saracen shrugged. "What's wrong with hitting the ground running?"