Necromancer

by Graeme Ing

“What’s your father’s connection with the Guild?”

  “I…I don’t think he has one. Why all the questions?”

  I stood. She bristled but stood her ground.

  “So you ran away from home, wandered into the Guild, and just happened to get pally with the Prime Guildmaster? And your father had nothing to do with it?”

  I grabbed her arm and gave her a shake.

  She pulled away. “No. He has no idea.”

  “Well, I have an idea. Let me tell you what I think. Your father plotted with Fortak to get you into the Guild.”

  She flinched and her gaze flicked momentarily aside. Guilty as charged.

  “As my apprentice you became the perfect spy—”

  “Spy?”

  “—reporting back on my every movement. When I left you at Petooli's you crossed half the city to find me at my garret.” I leaned forward, and stabbed a finger at her. “How did you do that, huh? How did you know where I lived?”

  “But—”

  “Ah, but the Guild knows, and they told you.” I paced the tiny room. “And what about in the sewers? You tried so hard to convince me that everything had an innocent explanation.”

  “This is stupid.” She folded her arms across her chest. “I haven’t spoken to anyone at the Guild since I left that day with you. I’m not a spy. That’s silly. What’s gotten into you?”

  “I’m not done.” My cheeks flushed hot and my fists clenched. “Out of the thousands of streets in the city, that fire thing burns down mine. You were there, yet somehow you escaped and everyone else died.”

  I slammed my hand on the table and she jumped.

  “Then, conveniently, you manage to convince all the thugs and thieves of Boattown to rent us a boat. I bet that was easy considering you had all the resources of your father behind you.”

  I clenched my teeth and glared at her.

  “Are you done?” Her eyes flared. “Because you haven’t analyzed all the evidence, mister genius.”

  “Oh?”

  “You say my father planned it all, yet any number of things in the past two days could have gotten me killed. The grak, the skeletons, the river, the fire. You think he wants his only daughter dead? You think the fire was intended for you? It’s always about you, isn’t it? Since I knew you were going to dinner last night, why didn’t I just tell whomever it is you think I’m spying for? Maybe I should have told this fire creature of yours that you weren’t at home.”

  Her small hands made fists, and her body trembled.

  Oh, she was good, faking anger at me. Her speech had sounded rehearsed.

  “Everyone has gone to The Deep since I met you,” I said. “You’re the perfect spy—flattering me, trying to get information from me in the guise of learning, following me like a lost puppy-”

  “I’m not lost. I can take care of myself.”

  I stepped onto the ladder and climbed up to the outer deck.

  “Then stay away from me,” I called down to her. “I’m leaving and won’t be back. Don’t try to follow me.”

  “I won’t.”

  With only the belongings I had on me, I stomped across the creaking plank to the adjacent boat, and then threaded my way from vessel to vessel until I reached the shore. I wanted to meet someone, anyone, if only to glare at them and swirl my Guild robe, but every deck was empty, the lowlifes hiding from the day. I strode up the final ramp to the wharf and hurried into the maze of city streets.

  At Canal Street, I sighed noisily, turned around, and went back to see an acquaintance who lived on a boat near the grain silos.

  “Jagga, you know the girl I came in with?”

  He picked food out of his beard, a bushy expanse that threatened to overgrow his entire face. His weathered, scarred hands shook uncontrollably. I tried hard not to stare at the tic under his right eye.

  “Aye. What of ’er?”

  I stepped aboard. The single-cabined boat stank of booze.

  “She have any visitors while I was away this morning? Did she leave?”

  “Nay. Not that I saw.”

  I nodded. Nothing moved in Boattown without Jagga knowing. I placed three gold Malks in his palm and pushed his quivering fingers closed around the coins.

  “Keep an eye on her for me. Make sure no one harms her.”

  It was time to pay Duke Imarian a visit.

  The sky carriage swayed erratically with each gust of wind, and the incessant creaking of wood and pinging of the taut cable frayed my nerves. My teeth mimicked the grinding of the wheels on the cable above. Two hundred feet below, white-crested waves buffeted the boats in the harbor. Dark clouds threatened to engulf the sky, turning the green heavens into a muddy brown.

  I slumped back on the bench. Ayla had taken me for a ride. How could I have been so blind?

  The isle of Sal-Urat spread out in front of me. It had been two solars since my last visit among its palaces. The aristos had made a fool of me. It was payback time. As my carriage angled toward the western end of the island, the Bridge of the Goddess came into view, its perfectly paved road barely forty feet below me, but high above the entrance to the harbor. The largest ship afloat could sail through each of the four arches without topping its mast. Legend said that law would prevail in the North as long as the bridge stood true. So had it been for a millennia.

  The carriage vibrated violently as it rattled across the last of the cable piers, and then descended steeply toward the station. The Elik Magi had built the carriage system over a century ago. Did anyone know how to maintain it? If the cable broke, I faced a long fall into the frigid harbor.

  The warm morning had been replaced by a biting wind. Once back on solid ground, I hurried through the wide avenues of the Mansion District, each impressive thoroughfare lined with mature trees and perennial flowers. Pink and orange blossoms fell like snow, carpeting everything in color.

  Duke Imarian’s house filled an entire city block. The gargantuan, sprawling mansion rose several floors above an encircling wall. It was humbling to consider the riches and political might on display here, but by the time I came across the gatehouse, my resolve was back.

  I gritted my teeth. I was fed up of events happening to me. Now I would control them.

  Two burly men stood inside the open gates. Dressed alike in green trousers and leather shirts, they also wore copper helmets emblazoned with the Duke’s crest. Ostentatious fellow, this Duke. I could see why Ayla disliked him. The two guards ended their conversation at my approach, and tapped the handles of their long spears on the gravel driveway.

  Whatever.

  I swirled my long robe behind me, set my gaze on the house, and strode past. One of them muttered something to my back, but I kept going, maintaining an even crunch-crunch along the raked gravel. I smirked to myself. Being feared had its perks.

  The house had two wings, one each side of an impressive central core from which rose three round towers festooned with wide windows, clearly not intended for defense. Irritated by the gravel, I cut across an immaculate lawn to the main entrance, six granite steps leading under a canopy supported by copper-plated columns. I bet he had a copper chamber pot too. The floor of the entrance foyer was a mosaic of polished marble. Glittering chandeliers hung high above.

  “Welcome to Imarian Manor.”

  The short man who approached wore a green, satin robe cinched at the waist with a copper sash. Highly original. He wore effeminate slippers, and his hairy legs contrasted bizarrely with his shaven face and bald, lumpy pate. He stopped six feet in front of me and clasped his hands.

  “How may I assist? Do you have an appointment?”

  “I must speak with the Duke urgently. I report to the Prime Guildmaster.”

  Not a lie. I didn’t say I represented him.

  The man bowed low. “His Lordship is busy and unable to receive at this moment. Shall I make an appointment for another day?”

  I stepped forward. “He will receive me. Now.”

  He backed up and glanced n
ervously toward a door at the rear of the entrance hall. I heard muted, gruff voices within.

  Now I got to have fun. I’d been hoping for a chance to be an ass.

  “Don’t insult the Guild by making me wait,” I said, once again emulating Master Semplis.

  There were no visible signs for many of my spells, and it was a simple matter to mold my energy into Signs from the Grave. Beetles and millipedes spewed out of my sleeves, tumbling onto my boots and crawling everywhere. Blood dripped from the hem of my robe, splattering on the polished tiles. The servant shrieked and retreated from the spreading plague of bugs. I followed him step for step, and as we passed a pair of waist-high pots, the plants wilted, their leaves curling and shriveling. Bare branches remained. I waved one arm imperiously, and exotic satin roses turned black and flaked into dust. Oops, I’m sure they were rare and expensive.

  “I’m not here to harm the Duke. Take me to him.”

  His tight fists had turned his knuckles white. He opened his mouth to speak and then became distracted by a brown, furry spider the size of my hand, plip-plipping along the marble floor.

  “All right, all right.” His voice squeaked. “Make those things go away.”

  He fled toward a side door, dancing around the bugs as he went. I ought to advise the Duke to hire staff with stronger stomachs. I canceled my magic and the bugs crawled away into the cracks and corners. I was cruel to torture a poor man only doing his job, but I had to see the Duke. Intimidating a manservant was easy, but cheap gimmicks wouldn’t impress the Duke.

  His reception room lay at the back of the house, overlooking a verdant garden of shrubs and color-coordinated flower beds. A tall, middle-aged man turned to face me. I recognized him immediately.

  Did he remember me from outside Fortak’s study?

  His purple robe was accented by sparkling gem-encrusted rings and a necklace hanging low over his chest. His arms were loosely crossed, one hand smoothing his goatee.

  The servant cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, your Lordship—”

  “No more visitors.” The Duke waved him away, staring at me all the while.

  I stood tall and studied the room. Plush couches with bronze legs faced each other across a low, polished copper table set with a silver platter of decanters and shiny goblets. Nautically themed tapestries adorned the walls.

  “My street agents said you had bravado,” he said once the door had closed behind the servant. “What do you want before I have you arrested?”

  Does arrogance follow power or vice versa?

  “I know what you and Fortak are up to, and I intend to stop you.”

  Always start strong. Other than the existence of the Covenant, I had no idea, but he didn’t know that. I hoped.

  He raised a single eyebrow. “Indeed? You’ve upset him. He’s been trying so hard to get rid of you.”

  I startled, and couldn’t mask the movement. Kristach! My own Guildmaster was trying to kill me?

  He laughed—a hollow, mocking sound. “You didn’t know? I’ve never seen the old goat get so worked up. You’ve made a fool of him and that puts you in a really awkward position. You’re playing games beyond your abilities, boy.”

  He walked around the back of the couch, toward an end table stacked with books, their corners neatly aligned. I tried to read the spines but they sat at the wrong angle.

  “And what is it that you think you know?” he asked. “Clearly you don’t grasp the extent of your own naïveté. And stupidity.”

  He withdrew a loaded crossbow from behind the couch, leveled it at my chest, and tapped his finger on the trigger housing.

  I jumped and my hands jerked defensively into the air above my head. My breathing quickened.

  He moved out from behind the couch.

  “You have no idea what is going on.” His tone was even but his thin lips curled into a snarl. “Don’t try anything silly, and no spells. I’d hate you to break your petty Guild oaths.”

  “I’m unarmed,” I lied. Sweat trickled down my forehead.

  “Did you even prepare before barging in here? You don’t seem to have brought your own crossbow.” He snorted. “Well, boy, I have a dilemma.”

  “What?”

  “Do I kill you now, give your corpse to Fortak and get one up on him, or deliver you alive and allow him his choice of demons to rip you apart from the inside out.” He moved his finger to the trigger. “Both tempting.”

  The crossbow didn’t waver. I blinked the sweat from my eyes and tore my gaze from the glinting tip of the barbed bolt. Targ said that you could tell a man’s intent from his eyes. The Duke’s were focused on mine, unblinking. My skin crawled, expecting metal to rip through my body at any moment.

  He was wrong. I had a plan. Of sorts.

  “You won’t do either,” I said.

  “Won’t I, now?”

  I breathed deep. Make-or-break time.

  “I’ve got Ayla.”

  “No you don’t. Fortak’s looking after her.”

  If his men had recovered her from Boattown this morning then I was dead. My heart pounded in my ears.

  “Is that what he told you?” I pulled her necklace out of my shirt and dangled it in my trembling hand.

  His eyes narrowed. “If you’ve harmed her…”

  So I had a play after all.

  “I haven’t.” I jerked my head toward the crossbow. “Please put that thing away and let’s talk in a more civilized fashion. Why waste two comfortable-looking couches?”

  “No.” He took aim on my heart. “What do you want with my daughter? I swear if you’ve touched her, I’ll tear you apart myself.”

  “You’re the one putting her in harm’s way. What kind of coward uses his own daughter to spy for him? Do you realize she’d been with me every single time someone tried to kill me? Is that all she is to you, a disposable asset? For Lak’s sake, she’s only a girl.”

  “Spy? What are you talking about? I’m her father. What kind of monster do you take me for?”

  “One who signs a secret pact with the Guild, one who…”

  What, Maldren? What are they up to? Here you go, running your mouth off before thinking it through.

  He sized me up. What was he thinking? I’d surprised him twice now, easily, unless he was faking it. Kristach, I’m not a politician or a strategist. For a moment I’d hoped he would lower the crossbow, but I obviously hadn’t pulled the right lever.

  He sighed. “You’re confused. You have no facts that I can see, only wild accusations and conspiracies. You can’t touch me, and my daughter is innocent. Return her.”

  “So you deny introducing her to the Guildmaster and—?”

  “Of course I do.”

  His gaze locked on her necklace in my hand.

  “Ayla was upset and seeking a way to hurt me. She was a fool to approach the Guild, but Fortak promised to keep her safe until she returned to her senses.”

  The resolve returned to his eyes.

  “But none of this is your business. Bring her back to me at once.”

  “He lied to you, Duke. He made her my apprentice. He gave her to me. Does that sound like he’s keeping her safe?”

  The crossbow dipped. That was the lever.

  “Fortak is playing us both,” I said. “If she isn’t your spy then he has something else in mind for her. Duke…”

  I took a step forward, keeping my hands in the air. The crossbow wavered but stayed down.

  “She isn’t ready to return home, but in time I can convince her. Until then, I will keep her safe.”

  What was I thinking, using her as leverage in a game I wasn’t equipped to play? This was my chance to be rid of her and I’d just proclaimed myself her protector. I’d left her alone with all the ruffians in Boattown. Not a stellar start to my new role. Imarian was right. I was in over my head. Lak and all his demons!

  “Here’s my deal,” the Duke said. “Bring Ayla home and I’ll forget everything—your trespass, accusations, all of it. We can end
this simply. Today.”

  “But it doesn’t end there. Why does Fortak want me dead? And why have your men seized Phyxia?”

  “I don’t intend to explain myself to you, boy.”

  “Think of your daughter.”

  He strode to the window and stared out at the bushes blowing in the stiff breeze. After a moment he turned.

  “Stop dragging her into this. She—”

  “I didn’t,” I said. “Fortak did. Release Phyxia. It’s the only way to get Ayla home. Trust me.”

  “Don’t blackmail me.” He brought the crossbow to bear, aiming across the couch at my head. “Fortak wants you dead for some reason. You’re holding my daughter, and you demand my trust?”

  I’d blown my advantage. Keep his focus on the girl, Maldren.

  “Ayla would be dead without me. I’m the only one protecting her. You want your daughter, and I want Phyxia safe. We can help each other.”

  “I can’t.” He lay the crossbow on the couch. “I can’t betray Fortak.”

  “Yes you can. For your daughter. He’d betray you in an instant.”

  “You of all people should know why I cannot,” he said, barely audible. His shoulders sagged. “Fortak used a lochtar to bind me to silence.”

  I pictured the chained spy squirming and shrieking with the agony of the lochtar penetrating his body. I’d sunk to the same level of depravity as Fortak. My stomach flipped. I vowed to redeem myself for that cruel act.

  “Give me anything,” I said. “One little thing. I swear I’ll protect Ayla.”

  He stared at me for a long moment.

  “Caradan’s Tower at dawn,” he muttered, and turned back to the window. “Tell Ayla that I miss her very much.”

  The gate guards paid me no attention when I left the mansion. Maybe I should have stuffed a handful of the Duke’s silver under my robe. The wind had died down, and Solas shone feebly through a light overcast layer. A fine but persistent rain soaked through my clothing, chilling my body. The bleak weather matched my mood, and I was glad for the deserted streets as I marched back to the Bridge of the Goddess. Blackwings and gulls circled above, cawing and diving to rooftop level. I turned away from the sky carriage station, tired of the ostentatiousness of the rich and their gimmicks. If Belaya had intended us to move through the air, she’d have turned us all into birds.