The Necromancer's Rogue

by Icy Sedgwick

  Vyolet seized her chance and grabbed two fresh rolls while the baker laid out long plaited loaves. She got three yards away from the stall when a large hand landed on her shoulder. The chubby fingers forced her to turn around, and she looked up into the heavyset face of a city guard runner. He wore the enchanted goggles that allowed him to see her, even in the shadows, and a lopsided leer that brought an early winter to her soul.

  “Thought you’d get away, did ya?” He leaned in towards her, and the smell of his breath turned her growling stomach. He tore her filched scarf from her hair, tossing it to the ground behind him.

  Vyolet saw two more runners on the far side of the square. She twisted out of his grip and threw the rolls across the square, smacking the two goblins in the back of the head. They turned on each other, and the runners busied themselves with breaking up the fight. Before the runner could raise the alarm, Vyolet dipped her hand into the pouch on her belt and withdrew a fistful of sleeping sand. She blew it into the runner’s face, and melted into the shadow cast by his vast bulk as he fell to the ground.

  Vyolet streaked across the market, dipping and weaving through the shadows cast by early shoppers. Her heart thudded and her pulse roared like the rapids in the city sewers. Panic darkened the edges of her night vision and she fought to regain her focus. The distracted runners realised what had happened, and their shouts echoed between the stalls. She didn’t dare stop to grab more food – escaping with her life seemed more important.

  She reached the docks and skipped across the foetid canal in the long shadows cast by the wall of the marketplace. The sewers lay dead ahead, yawning black holes in the wall below the street. None but the bravest, or most desperate, ventured there, but the Shadowkin had few reservations about the dark or deep places of the world. Their elders told tales of their birth in the depths, harnessing shadows to gain mastery over the higher places. Vyolet didn’t necessarily believe that, but she wasn’t afraid of the dark.

  Vyolet threw a glance over her shoulder as she darted into the mouth of the sewer, and collided with a tall, well-built body clad in leather armour. She froze, believing herself hidden in the shadows.

  The hand that landed on her shoulder was not a hand at all, but rather a heavy paw topped with curved claws. Vyolet gasped. What manner of creature had the city guard employed? There’d be no getting anyway now. She dared herself to look up at the stranger.

  A large wolf’s head topped wide, muscular shoulders, but the expression in its black eyes was kind. Its deep russet fur disappeared under leather armour bearing the crest of the House of the Long Dead. Vyolet gulped. What could the necromancer general want with her?

  The Wolfkin gestured with its paw and Vyolet gasped. How could a beast such as that know the secret signals of the Shadowkin? They often communicated through sign language as they hid in the darkness, a visual language only they saw. That a Wolfkin knew of it meant it wasn’t as secret as they believed it was. Either way, the gesture was a greeting, and a friendly one at that.

  “How do you know how to speak with me?” signed Vyolet.

  “We Wolfkin know many things. We simply do not broadcast what we know. Not everyone needs to understand our ways.”

  Vyolet smiled. “You are from the necromancer general,” she signed.

  “Yes, and she needs your help. The whole Underground City needs your help.”

  “I think not, my friend. Most of the City is out to get my kind, and they shun me whenever they can. They don’t need my help.” Vyolet scowled.

  “They do not yet know that they need your help. Please. My mistress will pay you a great deal, and she is often in need of someone with your talents. She is not like the others of these Cities. She values difference. After all, she accepts the Wolfkin. She is one of two individuals in the whole of the Twin Cities that does.”

  Vyolet paused. The Wolfkin had a point, and it was the best chance she had of catching herself a meal. Besides, she didn’t have to stick around once she heard what the necromancer general wanted. Her stomach growled, and she looked up at the Wolfkin.

  “Okay. What does she need?”

  4

  Chapter 4

  Jyx coughed and spluttered as his soul slammed back into his body. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d died and been resurrected since the first time. When was that? Days ago? Weeks? Months, even? He never saw anyone when he returned, and in the brief moments between life and death, he wondered how Eufame managed to fix the catastrophe he’d caused. She seemed to think his punishment would keep the Crown Prince happy, but what about the coronation parade?

  Then he’d be torn from his body, and he stopped thinking about it. The world beyond the Veil defied logical thought.

  He sat back against the bars of his cage and awaited the moment when his soul and his body would be ripped apart again. He counted backwards from ten. Nothing. He counted upwards to ten. Still nothing. He pushed himself forward as best he could, crammed as he was into the small cage, and peered out through the bars.

  “Hello? Is anybody there?”

  A Wolfkin appeared from the shadows to his right, followed by a second. Jyx recognised the first as the tawny Wolfkin that sometimes accompanied Eufame. The second wore plain black armour and a vacant expression. It must have been one of the ones Neferpenthe and her minions had killed.

  “Hey! Hi! What’s going on?” Jyx smiled at the Wolfkin, but it could no doubt smell his fear. The massive, wolf-headed men terrified him at the Academy, and they terrified him even more in the House of the Long Dead, where there was no Dean Whittaker to keep them in line. They scared him even more now that he’d caused the death of several of their number.

  The Wolfkin shoved one paw through the bars, and fastened its claws around Jyx’s head. He yelped, sure its grasp would crush his skull like the trolls that burst pumpkins at the Flee Market for coppers. The Wolfkin hummed, a sound midway between a melody and a growl, and sparks danced at the edge of Jyx’s vision. An abyss opened up before him, warm and comforting in the way the space beyond the Veil was not.

  “Can you understand me now?”

  A voice echoed in his mind, and the paw, surprising in its gentleness, tilted his head upward. His vision blurred, and then his eyes refocused on the Wolfkin in front of him.

  “Oh, it’s you! You’re talking to me!” Jyx’s voice was thin in the vast chamber.

  “Yes, it is me. You may call me Validus. That is not my true name, but you would not be able to pronounce the Wolfkin language. This is Ptem, though he cannot speak.” The Wolfkin didn’t smile but an aural grin warmed his voice, even when he gestured to the vacant Wolfkin. He certainly didn’t patronise him when he mentioned the Wolfkin language. Jyx remembered the complicated series of barks and yips Eufame performed with such ease and frowned. The Wolfkin released his grip of his head, and Jyx rubbed his temples.

  “How are you doing that? How can I hear you? And why haven’t I died again?” asked Jyx.

  “We Wolfkin have magick of our own that men largely do not understand, but at present that is unimportant. I have interrupted Eufame’s spell because you are more valuable alive than you are languishing in this punishment. I have granted you the privilege of Wolfkin communication because I need you to understand me.” Validus’s voice sounded the way Jyx pictured butter on hot toast – rich, creamy, and oddly comforting.

  “Where is Eufame?”

  “The House of Correction.”

  “What? Why?”

  Ptem unlocked the cage and helped Jyx out. He stumbled and the Wolfkin supported him with a strong, muscular arm around his waist.

  “Slowly, little one. Your body has become tired. It will need time to readjust,” said Validus.

  “Why is Eufame in the House of Correction?”

  Jyx shuddered to think of the gargantuan monument to punishment at the edge of the City Above. It housed the worst dregs of society from both of the Cities, and few who entered ever returned. Those who did come back were neve
r quite the same again.

  “The Crown Prince grew suspicious. He did not think the destruction of the parade was as much of an accident as Eufame originally had him believe it was. Her enemies poured poison in his ears, and he had her arrested for treason. I do not doubt that his new advisor had much to do with that. Still, the punishment for most criminals would be death, but for a necromancer it is far worse.”

  “What will they do?”

  “They will tear her soul from her body and leave her as a shambling wreck of a person, incapable of independent thought or action.”

  Jyx scowled, unsure how he should feel about that. After all, Eufame had engineered his downfall and used him as the instrument of her vendetta against the Crown Prince.

  “Why do you need me? I started all this, remember?”

  “That is of little consequence to the Wolfkin. We need you to help us to locate her in the House.”

  “Why would I do that? She killed me! I made a mistake and she sent me beyond the Veil for it.” Jyx flexed his foot to test his legs. His toes wiggled in response but his foot remained motionless.

  “Will you not trust me?” Validus stared into Jyx’s eyes. A spark of pleading burned in the Wolfkin’s expression.

  “You’re not the problem. She is.”

  Validus sighed and even Ptem’s ears drooped. Validus walked away from the slab on which Jyx sat. Ptem scooped him up in its arms and followed Validus out of the chamber.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To talk somewhere that is more comfortable.”

  Ptem carried him out of the chamber and along a short corridor. His heart sank when they came out in the vestibule that led to Eufame’s chambers. Validus directed him to look out at the devastation in the vault beyond. Slabs that once held royal mummies stood empty, and broken tables were piled at the far end. Jyx felt a pang as he spotted the entrance to his own quarters in the gloom. He’d been so full of hope when he first came down here, fascinated by the necromancy process and so eager to impress his new mistress. If only he’d listened to her, and kept his ambition in check. Well, that wasn’t a mistake he’d make again in a hurry.

  Jyx looked around. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up to see the curtain that hid Eufame’s library. Once, its rippling, changing fabric called to him and promised him mysteries. Nausea bubbled in Jyx’s throat to think of the damage he’d caused as a result of what he’d found in that room. The room to the right was Eufame’s study, another room destroyed through his stupidity.

  Validus opened the door and Jyx squeezed his eyes shut. Ptem carried him over the threshold but the sound of crackling flames piqued his curiosity. Jyx opened his eyes. He recognised the tall bookcases filled with Eufame’s personal collection along the wall. A woven throw covered an overstuffed sofa. No trace remained of her broken glass ornaments and vases. Instead, plush armchairs stood in a semi-circle before the fireplace, and torches burned in braziers on the walls. Jyx spotted Eufame’s cat, Bastet, curled up asleep on the armchair furthest from the door. Wooden panels on the opposite side of the room barely hid a box bed from view. A roaring fire blazed beneath the mantelpiece and the air smelled of wood smoke and bacon. Jyx couldn’t remember seeing any of it the last time he was in here. It was hard to believe Eufame would have such a cosy room in a place like the House of the Long Dead. But perhaps his desire to wake the pterosaur blinded him to his surroundings. Before he could think about it any more, Ptem deposited him in one of the armchairs and handed him a bowl. He took the lid off a pot hanging over the fire, and ladled soup into the bowl. Validus sat in the chair beside his.

  “Jyx, you must try to understand. You are alive now, are you not?” he asked.

  “Yes, thanks to you, and I’m really grateful to you both, but why should I help her?” Jyx blew on a spoonful of soup to cool it. The soup was hot and thick, full of chunks of potato and ham. Ptem handed him a hunk of bread to dip in it.

  “If she had meant you harm, would she have chosen the Perpetual Death, a process which can be stopped at any time?”

  Jyx paused, the bread halfway to his mouth.

  “There are many reasons that Eufame did not want to give up her position, and these are reasons that go some way towards explaining why she did what she did. Believe me, she would not have engineered such a disaster for nothing. The man who seeks to supplant her position is not a kind man. He is interested in neither necromancy nor learning, only power.”

  “Is he the one who sent all the suitors?”

  “The very same. He would return the Wolfkin to the full slavery we have worked so hard to leave behind, and no doubt end the quest for knowledge that Eufame instituted within this House decades ago. In all likelihood, he would sell what he could of the library that intrigued you so much, and burn the rest.”

  Jyx grimaced at the idea of so much knowledge going up in flames. Across the room, Bastet stirred, and lifted her head. She turned her feline gaze on Jyx, and he tried a weak smile in greeting. She stretched and climbed down from her chair, only to saunter across the room and climb up into Jyx’s lap.

  “You see? Even Bastet is pleased to see you, and you know how loyal she is to our mistress.”

  Ptem took Jyx’s empty bowl from him, and Jyx petted the tabby cat, who purred beneath his touch.

  “So he wants to ransack this place? What else can he do?” asked Jyx, thinking again of the precious library.

  “Eufame holds a seat on various councils, and due to her influence, prevents many bad decisions from being made. Yet there is a secret motion being proposed within the council of the City Above to clear out the Underground City.”

  “Clear it out?” Jyx froze. In all of the excitement, he’d forgotten about his family. He didn’t know what had happened to his mother or his siblings.

  “Indeed so. From what I gather, it will be razed. Eufame had your family moved before her arrest to keep them safe from the Crown Prince’s wrath, but she could not move them out of the City completely. If you help us to find her, we may yet be able to save the Underground City, including your family.”

  Jyx stared into the leaping flames in the grate, wishing he’d learned about fire divination at the Academy. He didn’t know what to do for the best, and a pang tore at his heart when he realised he missed having Eufame telling him what to do.

  “We’ve made up a bed for you, Jyx. Why don’t you sleep a while, and see what your dreams tell you?”

  Bastet climbed down from Jyx’s lap, and Validus led Jyx on shaky feet across the room to the box bed. A warming pan lay between the luxurious velvet covers, and Jyx’s mind dissolved into sleep as soon as he flopped onto his side.

  5

  Chapter 5

  Vyolet followed the Wolfkin through the twisting streets of the Underground City, gnawing on a bread roll filled with cheese. People recognised the insignia on her companion’s armour and shrank back, and Vyolet hid in his shadow. The flickering lamps on the buildings did little to dispel the constant gloom of the closes and alleys, and the Wolfkin’s presence radiated safety. Even the occasional DWS agents they passed averted their eyes at the approach of the Wolfkin, and Vyolet wondered what other benefits an association with the necromancer general might have.

  The Wolfkin stopped outside a narrow house on Edge Street, a long curving road that clung to the wall of the Underground City. The cliff disappeared into the darkness above, and the rock face marked the true boundary with the City Above, who had its own Edge Street along the cliff where it rose up into the mountains on the surface.

  Vyolet tapped the Wolfkin on the shoulder, and he turned round slowly, careful to keep Vyolet in its shadow.

  “Aren’t we going to Lockevar’s Gate?” she signed. She swallowed the last of her sandwich. The bread and cheese were both fresh, and Vyolet wondered if the Wolfkin had brought it from the City Above. Fresh bread was one thing, but fresh cheese? Few could afford anything other than mould underground.

  “No. It would not be safe for eit
her of us to pass at the moment. The council of the City Above still sharpens its knives for my House and I could not guarantee your safety.”

  Vyolet raised one eyebrow. She knew all about what had happened at the House, how the necromancer general’s apprentice had destroyed the royal mummies intended for the Crown Prince’s coronation parade, and that the necromancer general herself had “gone missing”. The gossip suggested certain members of the council were keen to assume her position, and associated deciding vote on various Boards, but Vyolet lost interest when politics became involved.

  “We shall use another entrance. I don’t doubt that it is also watched, although I would imagine it is watched less closely,” signed the Wolfkin.

  He knocked on the door, and a wizened crone answered. She said nothing but held the door open wide enough to allow the Wolfkin and Vyolet to pass. They entered a square, empty room with ancient beams holding up the low ceiling. The crone gestured to a narrow, crooked corridor that led into the darkness.

  “Where does that go?” signed Vyolet.

  “We shall find out.” The Wolfkin couldn’t smile, but the glint in his eye betrayed his amusement.

  Vyolet followed the Wolfkin into the corridor. No torches lit their way but the Wolfkin saw perfectly in the dark, and Vyolet’s Shadow nature made the darkness as comfortable to her as midday to a human. They followed the kinks and corners of the corridor until it opened out into another chamber, this one featuring a narrow wooden staircase that led into an opening in the ceiling. The Wolfkin ascended the stairs and Vyolet brought up the rear, her legs aching from the climb by the time they reached yet another room at the top.

  Another wizened crone, a twin to the woman downstairs in all but dress, met them at the top. A coin passed from the Wolfkin to the crone, and Vyolet followed the massive Wolfkin along another corridor and out of a low doorway into a street.