Mortal Rites

by Melissa McShane

  “Didn’t you already pray, before the battle?” Sienne asked.

  “I intend only to ask for a single healing blessing,” Perrin said, “and I believe our need is great enough, and my actions humble enough, that Averran will grant it. Regardless, we will need an apothecary later today.”

  Sienne handed Kalanath and Perrin plates and let them serve themselves. “Wouldn’t the healing take care of that?”

  “It may only cure the disease and not the symptoms. I cannot say.” Perrin bit into an apple. “Some diseases engender secondary illnesses that themselves require healing. I do not like the look of this fever.”

  “It doesn’t feel wonderful either,” Alaric murmured without opening his eyes.

  “Do you want food?” Sienne asked.

  “I’m not hungry. Maybe later.”

  “I doubt any apothecaries are open at this hour,” Dianthe said. “I’m going to nap for a few hours and then go out. Sienne, you should sleep as long as you can.”

  “I want to come with you.”

  “Sienne, you nearly killed yourself with wizardry,” Alaric said. “You need to recover.”

  Now that she’d eaten something, the idea of a comfortable bed had appeal. She wished she could snuggle up with Alaric and said, “I’ll sleep if you will.”

  “Done,” Alaric said, and turned to face the wall.

  Sienne finished her roll and rose with her plate. Dianthe took it out of her hand. “Next door on the left,” she said. “Sleep, or I’ll drug your coffee until you do.”

  Sienne laughed. She went into the next room, kicked off her boots, and was asleep almost before her head touched the pillow.

  She dreamed of nonsensical things, of chasing Kalanath through the halls of the ducal palace at Beneddo where she’d spent her childhood, of inventing a new spell that turned people into folded bits of paper that spoke in Meiric, of floating across the hills outside Scholten’s estate. That last dream triggered memory, and she found herself back in Scholten’s house, only it was empty of people and undead. She felt no fear, just curiosity at where the stairs led, because in the dream they went to floors that didn’t exist in reality.

  She came out of the stairs onto the roof, which towered high above the ground, and now she saw undead hordes pressing in on all sides, climbing over each other to try to reach her. Her spellbook was in her hand, and she read a spell written in a new language she had no trouble understanding, and the undead fell like lumps of shapeless clay. She turned back to the book—but that was impossible, there were only five spell languages, and one of them was forbidden. She strained to understand this new, sixth language—

  and she woke, dragged out of the dream by reality intruding. Dianthe snored on the bed nearest the window. By the slanting rays of light, it was late afternoon. Ignoring her boots, Sienne rose and left the room to knock on the next door.

  After a moment, Perrin opened it. “My petition was granted, I have invoked a healing blessing, and he is resting peacefully,” he said. “Come in.”

  Kalanath was also asleep, his staff leaning against the wall by the head of his bed. Perrin looked as if he’d been sleeping too. “I’m sorry I woke you,” Sienne said.

  “I woke a few minutes ago,” Perrin said, brushing her apology aside. “I had intended to fetch more water, but perhaps you might…?”

  Sienne accepted the pewter pitcher and summoned a glob of water to fall with a splash into it. “Is he awake?”

  “He is now,” Alaric said. “Did you rest?”

  Sienne sat on the edge of Alaric’s bed and took his hand in hers. It was warm and dry, but not hot with fever. “I did. I feel much better. How about you?”

  “Still weak, and I ache all over, but the fever is gone.” He squeezed her hand gently. “Could you get me some water?”

  Perrin helped him sit, and Sienne held a cup of water to his lips. Alaric nodded thanks. “I’m grateful to you, in case I didn’t say it before,” he told Perrin. “The last time I took ill, we didn’t have money for a priest, and I was a week in recovering.”

  “It will certainly be less than that,” Perrin agreed. “Now you simply need rest, though I believe another healing might be effective tomorrow. I believe we can head for home after two more days. You will not be fully recovered, but I estimate you will be in the cantankerous stages of your recovery, and might as well be cantankerous while we are on the road.”

  “I’m predictable, aren’t I?” Alaric said with a smile.

  “Just a bit,” Sienne said.

  “Well, I promise to keep my irritability to myself.” He squeezed her hand again. “Now, what’s this I hear about something taking scrappers to Fioretti?”

  Sienne looked at Perrin, who shrugged. “That is as much as we know,” he said. “Dianthe learned, when she spoke to the apothecary, that there were several scrapper teams who left this morning at first light, and a few others who departed some hours later. All but one had received communications from Fioretti about some opportunity to earn money in the capital. The last team followed the others on the basis that they did not want to miss out on possible riches simply because they had no priest to speak with someone in Fioretti.”

  “That’s strange. Is it something we should look into?”

  “I can pray for a communication blessing, yes, but I would not have any idea whom to speak to for information. But we will return in a few days, and learn the truth then.”

  “Or do some asking around here in Onofreo.” Alaric shifted his weight and let out a deep, slow breath. “Anything that gets a scrapper team up before dawn is something we want to know about.”

  “We’ll ask. You’ll stay here,” Sienne said.

  “I wasn’t planning to get up and run around, Sienne.”

  “No, but you’ve got that impatient look in your eye. Leave it to us.” Sienne kissed his forehead lightly.

  Alaric sighed again. “Promise me you’ll tell me immediately what you learn. I have a feeling it’s important.”

  “Don’t worry,” Sienne said, “whatever it is, it can’t be that important or we’d have heard about it too.”

  “I sincerely hope that is the case,” said Perrin.

  23

  Alaric mounted Paladin smoothly, with no evidence that it hurt him. Sienne thought he looked perfectly well, though he’d been unsteady on his feet walking down the stairs to the stables. “Paladin’s restive,” he said. “I wouldn’t have thought two days of inactivity would do that to him.”

  “You’re imagining things,” Dianthe said. “You’re eager to be off, so you think Paladin is too.”

  Alaric shrugged. “That’s possible. And before you ask, yes, I still feel a little shaky, and I wouldn’t want to do this ride at a full-out gallop, even if that were possible, but I’m up for nine hours of riding.”

  “I’m not sure I am,” Sienne groused. “We’re not going back as fast as we came, are we?”

  “No need to,” Alaric said. “Though aren’t you anxious to access Murtaviti’s library?” He prodded Paladin into a fast walk, and the big gelding led the way out of the stable yard.

  “All right,” Sienne said, “I admit to wanting to find that book. I hope Master Scholten was right, and Master Murtaviti had a copy.”

  “And that Mistress Murtaviti in her grief over her husband will not ban us from the library outright,” Perrin said.

  “I’m trying not to dwell on that possibility,” Dianthe said. “I’d hate to break into her house on the off chance the book is there. Denys would—” She broke off mid-word, her lips thinned against anything else escaping.

  No one spoke for a while. Finally, Sienne said, “Don’t you think—”

  “Denys doesn’t want to hear from me, Sienne,” Dianthe said. “There’s nothing I can do about it. If he decides he wants to talk, he knows where to find me.”

  Sienne opened her mouth to say more, but decided against it. She tried to imagine what it would be like if Alaric found out she’d lied to him about
something serious, and failed. Even if he didn’t already know all her secrets, none of them were the kind of thing worth lying about, not like Dianthe protecting herself from an accusation of murder. But if she had, she wouldn’t just let Alaric leave her, not without fighting for him…except, if she was the one who’d lied, would she have a right to impose on him like that? No, Dianthe was right. It was up to Denys to decide he wanted to speak to Dianthe, however stupid he was for being so upset.

  They left Onofreo and headed east toward Fioretti, with Dianthe in the lead. She kept a steady but not very rapid gait, one that would still have them in Fioretti well before sunset. The sun was bright in the cloudless sky and beat down on Sienne’s bare head, warming her enough that she wished for her true summer shirt and trousers, not the soft wool clothing that had been so comfortable up until now.

  She kept a close eye on Alaric, but it seemed he was as well as he’d claimed: he rode confidently, his head held alert and high, and Paladin kept the pace as well as any of the other horses. His recovery had been quicker than Perrin had anticipated, and no symptoms of grave rot had surfaced, to Sienne’s relief. He was quieter than usual, which Sienne put down to lingering illness, but aside from that he seemed perfectly well.

  She sat beside him when they stopped for a noon meal and leaned against his broad shoulder. “What next?” she said.

  “Next after what?”

  “Well, let’s assume for the moment we get the book from Master Murtaviti’s library, and it has the ritual we need. What then?”

  “We still have to find the varnwort potion. With luck, the ritual will relate to that somehow. Then we figure out how to turn it into a ritual to free my people. I’m afraid I have no idea what that will take.” Alaric put his arm around her and drew her closer. “My hope is that seeing the ritual will give us some idea of what to do. If not, then I suppose it will be time for more research.”

  “I was thinking…maybe it’s time I went to the University of Fioretti library. It’s the biggest library in the country, and we could really use it as a resource.”

  “But your parents will find out where you are.”

  “I’m less worried about that than I used to be. They might try to drag me back home, but I have a new life now, with new friends, and they can’t force me to do anything I don’t want to. Besides, you wouldn’t let them.”

  “They’d have to fight me to take you away. I’m sure I can defeat anyone they send after you, even in my weakened state.” He flexed his arm muscles, making her giggle.

  “Your weakened state is still more powerful than any five men.”

  “You flatter me. But—seriously, don’t feel you need to expose yourself just to gain access to that library. We’ve done well without it.”

  “It’s just a thought.”

  They sat in companionable silence for a while. Sienne rested her head on his shoulder and wondered what her parents would think if she came home with a giant Ansorjan (as far as anyone knew) scrapper lover in tow. All right, they weren’t lovers yet, but that would last as long as it took to finish this job. Her mother would be horrified that she had a lover at all. It wasn’t the sort of thing noble young women did. Sienne thought it was a bit hypocritical, given that plenty of older noble women had affairs, many of them with men half their age, but her mother was traditional, if by “traditional” you meant “humorless and stuffy.”

  “I wish we knew what was going on in Fioretti,” Alaric mused. “I hate riding into the unknown.”

  “The man in the market was the only one who knew more details than just that there was scrapping work in Fioretti,” Sienne said, “and he only knew the king is offering bounties for a certain job.”

  “Bounties generally mean collecting something. The last time the government paid out on bounties, it was a werewolf infestation near the Bramantus Mountains. So what could be overrunning Fioretti now?”

  “I guess we’ll find out when we reach the city.” Sienne kissed his cheek and stood. “Let’s ride on. I’m curious about it now.”

  It was almost six o’clock when they reached the gates of Fioretti, never closed except in times of extremity. To Sienne’s surprise, the guards at the gate beckoned them to the side. “You here for the bounty?” the female guard said. She was tall and dark-skinned, with a scar down the left side of her face that dragged that corner of her mouth down.

  “We heard the news in Onofreo,” Alaric said without hesitation. “What can you tell us?”

  “The usual rules about armed combat within the city limits are suspended so long as you’re fighting the bounty,” the woman said. “No souvenirs—they want the whole body brought to one of the guard posts. You familiar with the city?”

  “We are.”

  “Then you’ll know where to go. Any guard post will be able to issue you a claim chit, one per head. Take those to the treasury and exchange them for the bounty. Any questions?”

  “The news didn’t say what we’d be fighting.”

  The guard laughed. “Damn idiot scrappers, come from miles around on the off chance of reward without caring what the job is.”

  Alaric shifted his weight so the hilt of his sword bobbed above his left shoulder. It wasn’t quite a threatening move, but it silenced the guard’s laughter. “Sorry,” he said, “I didn’t hear that. What did you say the bounty is?”

  The woman swallowed, then resumed her careless, defiant pose. “Ghouls.”

  Sienne gasped. Alaric and Dianthe exchanged glances. “Ghouls?” Alaric said. “There are ghouls in the city enough to justify a hunt?”

  “If you’re afraid—”

  “Do I look afraid?”

  Sienne couldn’t see his face, but she could guess he looked angry, not afraid. The guard swallowed again. “They’ve been showing up in packs for the last three days. No one knows why. It’s bad enough the king has authorized the payment of bounties. Don’t know how much luck you’ll have, what with how many scrappers are already in the city, but—”

  “We should be moving. Our thanks.” Alaric didn’t sound very grateful. He nudged Paladin into a trot and headed through the gate without waiting for the rest. Sienne had to scramble to catch up.

  “Ghouls,” Alaric repeated. “Is it a coincidence? Perrin?”

  “I think…not,” Perrin said. “She said it had been three days since the ghouls appeared, yes? And three days ago is when we destroyed the lich. When a lich is destroyed, he loses control of any undead he raised. Master Murtaviti lived in Fioretti and no doubt did most of his necromancy here.”

  “So when we killed him,” Sienne said, “it turned his undead into ghouls?”

  “That seems likely.”

  Silence fell. Dianthe finally said, “I’m not sure the guilt I feel is justified.”

  “It’s not,” Alaric said. “We had to destroy Murtaviti. There was no way to destroy his undead minions first. Think of the alternative, if we’d left him alive until we’d returned here.”

  “So…should we hunt ghouls?” Kalanath said. “Or seek out Mistress Murtaviti?”

  Alaric narrowed his eyes in thought. “I think we should proceed with our quest. That guard was right; there are probably a hundred scrappers prowling the city for ghouls right now. The longer we wait to confront Mistress Murtaviti, the more likely it is that she’ll come up with a reason to deny us access to her husband’s library. But I don’t think I should make the decision for us. We may not be guilty of loosing a horde of ghouls on the city, but we certainly bear some responsibility. What do you think?”

  “I think your reasoning is sound,” Sienne said. “And I worry, too, that we’ve given Mistress Murtaviti time to do something rash, like burn the library or give it away. We can hunt ghouls later.”

  “I am not equipped with blessings to fight undead monsters,” Perrin said, “and Averran did not grant me any unasked-for blessings of that nature, by which I surmise that he did not intend us to take that path today.”

  Kalanath just nodded.
Dianthe said, “Let’s hurry. I want this over with.”

  The stables were on the path between the gate and the Murtaviti home. They stopped just long enough to hand the horses over to the stable hands—Sienne kissed Spark’s nose in apology for not settling her herself—and hurried across the city to Carissima Lane. The beautiful evening ought to have brought Fiorettans out in droves, enjoying an outdoor meal, listening to the street performers, or just strolling through the streets. Instead, Fioretti looked like a ruin recently abandoned, as if everyone had decided to leave for the country at the same time. The few people they encountered scurried along with their heads down, not meeting their eyes. Probably they were as afraid of scrappers as they were of ghouls. Given the kind of people some scrappers were, this wasn’t so farfetched.

  They saw one scrapper team in the distance, two men and two women striding along as confidently as if nothing were wrong in Fioretti. Sienne couldn’t tell if they noticed her and her friends, though she couldn’t imagine they didn’t, but they behaved as if they were the only people in Fioretti. They disappeared along a side street before her team reached them, and Sienne felt unnatural relief at not having to encounter them. Normally they got along well with other scrappers—no, this wasn’t true, scrappers saw each other as competition and didn’t get friendly as a rule. But with a few notable exceptions, they didn’t harbor any animosities toward other scrapper teams, and sometimes traded information with them. Now, however, Sienne superstitiously felt that coming face to face with another team would lead to blows. They’d win, probably, but it was the kind of delay they didn’t need.

  The narrow, winding streets of the south side seemed darker than usual, and Sienne found her gaze flicking from shadow to shadow, searching for ghouls hidden there. Alaric didn’t say anything, but he moved closer to Sienne, shifting the position of the sword on his back for easier access. Without being prompted, Sienne drew out her spellbook and opened it to burn. The rough texture of the harness and the weight of the book calmed her spirits. Ghouls were no longer a mystery, after the fight at Scholten’s estate, and were nothing to fear. Bernea Murtaviti’s reaction to their appearance on her doorstep, however, was an unknown. If they were lucky, she’d let them in and give them access to Murtaviti’s library with no resistance. Sienne had a feeling they’d run out of that kind of luck.