Dirge for a Necromancer (18 page)

Raettonus arched one thin eyebrow. “You’re going to a feast? Can you even eat?”

“Well, no—of course not,” said Deggho sheepishly. “But…it’s been a long time since I’ve been to any feasts. I never really liked food much, anyway, but I do like the revelry. Will you come?”

“What’s he saying?” asked Slade.

“He’s asking us to come to a feast tonight,” Raettonus told his master.

Slade brightened. “Oh, that sounds like fun!” he exclaimed. “You’re telling him yes, right?”

“If you wish, Master,” said Raettonus, turning back to Deggho. “We’ll go, I guess.”

“Diahsis will be glad to hear that,” said the goblin. “I should go see him—I’m supposed to help him plan the faerie hunt tomorrow. I’ll see you and your friend later, Magician.” With a slight bow of his shoulders, Deggho retreated from the room, leaving Slade and Raettonus alone.

“So, where were you all today?” asked Slade as they headed toward the door.

“I was with Kimohr Raulinn, actually,” Raettonus said.

“Is he really a god?” Slade asked. They entered a long hallway with arrow slits carved into one wall. Orange light filtered in through the slits, illuminating the hall in dusky strips. “It’s hard to believe, but he told me he was. It was like sitting down with Odin, or some such.”

“More like Loki,” grunted Raettonus as they started up a dark staircase. “But, yes, he is a god—here, at least.”

Slade frowned. He seemed on the edge of saying something, but decided against it and instead kept silent for a while. Finally, he said, “One of your students, Maeleht, said he’d teach me to speak their language—Kaerikeena, I think he called it.”

“Kaerikyna,” said Raettonus. “I don’t know that it would be such a good idea. That’s the centaurian language. You should learn common Zylekkhan instead. It’s more widely used. I’d…I’d teach you if you want, Master.”

Slade smiled. “That would be lovely, Rae. I’m sure you’ll be a good teacher,” he said, his eyes glowing a soft blue in the quiet dimness of the stone stairwell.

They stepped out onto the landing and began down a long, arching hallway filled with dusk-colored light and the smell of blood drifting up through the arrow slits. Slade paused at one to look out, and Raettonus paused with him. Down below, the soldiers were hacking through the dragon’s limbs, spilling its stale blood all across the sand. Their shouts were muffled by the distance, but Raettonus could still hear them calling to one another and joking. For a long while, Slade watched the centaurian soldiers, listening to their language, which was so alien to him.

“How did you manage?” he asked quietly, after the sun had set completely. The sky was growing dark, and down below soldiers were coming out with torches. “You must have been so scared when you came here, all alone and not knowing the language…surrounded by all these strange creatures…”

“I suppose I didn’t think of it that way,” mumbled Raettonus. “After you died, I was all alone anyway, so…” He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. The smell of the dragon’s blood was still thick in the air; Raettonus wondered if it wouldn’t attract ‘gryphs and unicorns.

Raettonus couldn’t see the expression, but he was certain Slade was staring off, smiling sadly. He’d seen him look that way a thousand times before. When he was little, he’d always wondered what made Sir Slade so sad. When he was older, he’d understood.

“Of course,” said Slade quietly. “I forgot. You’re never afraid—not you. Do you remember that time—oh, it would’ve been about three years after you came to live with me—when some yeomen came and tried to run me out of my castle?”

“Not really,” muttered Raettonus. There had been many times like that. To Raettonus, they’d all become one contemptuous blur.

“When they came up to our walls, you wanted to fight them,” said Slade. “You grabbed up a short sword and you started carrying it around with you, and you wanted to fight them back. When I went out to talk with them, you wouldn’t stay inside, so I let you come with me. It wasn’t going so well, and their leader was an angry man. He pushed me, and you rushed forward with that little sword of yours, and you took a swing at him. You got halfway through his hand, and then the impact knocked the sword out of your grasp.”

“I remember that, a little,” said Raettonus. “You beat me ragged for that.”

Slade nodded. “Even after that, you said you weren’t sorry that you hurt him,” he said, his smile fading away at the corners of his mouth. Raettonus looked at him, and it was one of the few times he had seen Slade without his insincere smile; his genuine sadness was heavy in every feature. “You did the wrong thing, but you were fearless doing it. I wish that counted for more than it does in the long run, fearlessness.”

The light had all died away and the hallway was dark, save for a faint golden glow about Raettonus, and for Slade’s eyes, which cast his face in blue. “Master,” said Raettonus tentatively. “I—”

“Never mind,” said Slade, straightening and walking away from the window. He put his smile back on, but it was the last expression in the world Raettonus wanted to see. “I suppose we should dress for the feast, right? I’ve never had dragon before. I wonder what it’s like. Come on, let’s not dawdle or we’ll be late.”

“Yes, Master,” said Raettonus reluctantly, and he lit a tiny fire in his hand to give them some light as they made their way back to their chambers.

After a time spent in silence, Raettonus said, “I kept a lot of your clothes, all these years. Um, Brecan returned with them just this afternoon. They should be in your room by now.”

“That’s good. Thank you, Raettonus,” said Slade. “I’m very interested to meet your unicorn friend.”

“Well, you’ll probably get a chance to tonight,” Raettonus said. They reached a landing with torches burning on the walls, and he extinguished the flame in his palm. “Brecan would sooner die than miss a feast.”

Slade chuckled. “He sounds delightful,” he said, running a hand through his dark hair and gazing upwards as they walked, toward the drab ceiling. “When I was a page, I knew a girl who claimed she’d seen unicorns before. She said she’d gone out early one morning to the apple orchard to sit beneath a tree and work on her needlepoint, but that she fell asleep. She woke up, she told me, and saw a unicorn coming toward her through the morning fog. It got frightened and ran off, but that wasn’t the last one she saw in that apple orchard, she said. She swore on a Bible that it was the honest truth, and may God strike her down if she was lying. I always thought she was pulling my leg though. She always told me I was naïve, and it wasn’t going to end well for me if I didn’t wise up some day.” He bit his lower lip. “We were…we were engaged to marry, she and I. Our parents made the betrothal, but I did love her all the same.”

Raising his eyebrows, Raettonus said, “I didn’t know you were engaged once. What happened?”

The dark-haired magician turned his softly glowing eyes on Raettonus and gave him a heart-breaking smile. You already know, his expression seemed to say. It’s the same thing that happened with everyone who knew me before I became a magician. Instead, Slade said, “She broke off the engagement. I couldn’t hold it against her, but it hurt. She was entirely right to though. After the church excommunicated me for necromancy, I had nothing but what land I could hold onto with my own sword. It wouldn’t have been right for her to have to live that kind of life. I think if she hadn’t broken off our engagement, I would have. I…I like to believe I would have.” The thought hung in the air a moment, floating uneasily on a brief silence which passed between them.

“What was her name?” Raettonus asked quietly. He got the feeling he shouldn’t probe any further, but he did always have more curiosity than he had politeness.

With a soft sigh, Slade answered, “Alurea, from the house White and Green.”

They reached the door to Raettonus’ room and opened it. Raettonus entered and set his rapier in the corner and began going through his clothes, looking for something to wear. Slade hesitated in the doorway for a moment before following him in and sitting on his bed. “I shouldn’t have said any of that,” Slade said, looking at his hands. “I feel like you’re upset now.”

Raettonus shrugged. “I’m not,” he said evenly. “I was thinking that was a pretty cruel thing of her to do. I was only thinking…”

“I suppose I’m feeling…a little reminiscent tonight. You’ll have to forgive me,” said Slade, looking up. His gaze fell on the desk, and he stood and walked over to it. He picked up the little gryphon figure and turned it over in his hands. “These are beautiful. Where did you get them?”

Raettonus slipped out of his dirty black tunic. “Kimohr Raulinn gave them to me,” he said, frowning.

Slade picked up the phoenix to examine it. “They’re beautiful,” he said again, and he turned to look at Raettonus. “Oh, you should wear a green tunic. It brings out your eye—oh. Never mind.” He grimaced slightly, and a blush crept up the back of his neck.

Raettonus turned away to hide his unnatural red eyes from Slade. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, staring at the filthy tunic in his hands. He dropped it to the ground and unlatched the trunk at the foot of his bed, searching through it for a clean tunic.

Slade set the phoenix down and turned his attention to the unicorn as Raettonus dressed. “I recognize this one,” he said fondly. He ran his finger along its mane, up to its horn. “This is the animal of Sir Rhodes’ house. Was, I mean.” The corner of his mouth twitched as he fiddled with the carved figure. “His father, Brigham, was a very powerful sorcerer, you know. He told me when I first met him that there are many stranger things in this world than I could ever imagine. I said, ‘I’m not so sure.’ He gave me the most chilling look and he said, ‘Walking bones are mundane compared to the things I’ve seen.’ No one knew about my necromancy back then, so I was awfully frightened by that. I was afraid he was going to tell someone, but he never did.” He let out a sigh and turned to Raettonus. “You look handsome in that. Green does suit you. I wish you would cut your hair, though. It makes you look so severe with it pulled back like that.”

“I’ll cut it, then, if you’d like, Master,” said Raettonus, glancing around. “But, I think I misplaced my dagger.”

“That’s all right. I’ve got a knife in my room,” said Slade. “Here, come with me. You look so much better with shorter hair.”

He took Raettonus by the arm and led him from the room. With a resigned frown, Raettonus let himself be taken next door to Slade’s chamber. However, after opening the door, Slade stopped abruptly at the entrance. “Master? What’s wrong?” asked Raettonus, peering around Slade’s large form into the room.

Rhodes stood within, watching them with his mismatched eyes, his arms tucked up in his rough robes. “Shlade,” he said, his voice cracking within his throat.

Slade stared at him for a moment, dumbstruck, his grip slackening until his arm fell out of Raettonus’ and landed limply against his side. He cocked his head to one side. “Sir Rhodes?” he asked in a barely controlled voice. He took an unsteady step into the room. “What—what happened to you? You’re all rotted…”

“I wash killed,” Rhodes said, his clumsily reanimated tongue slurring his words.

“Killed?” asked Slade as he reached the corpse’s side. “Did—did I kill you? Mary—I didn’t think you’d actually die when I left you out there.”

Rhodes shook his head, the bones in his neck sliding audibly against each other. “No,” he said. “I shurvived that.”

“Then who…?”

Sir Rhodes said nothing, but his gaze flickered over Slade’s shoulder toward Raettonus. Quickly, the corpse looked away, but not before Slade caught the look. He turned on his one-time ward. “You?”

The betrayal in Slade’s voice was too much for Raettonus to bear. Like a child who had broken a vase, he looked down and spoke to his shoes. “He tried to kill you once,” mumbled Raettonus. “I couldn’t forgive that. He came around to your castle after you passed, wanting forgiveness, so I gave him flames.” Raettonus bit his lower lip and closed his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he said, “I will not apologize or feel ashamed, either. I made the right decision.”

There was fury in Slade’s eyes, but his expression was carefully blank. “Raettonus,” he said, his voice tight. “To choose to take a life is never the right decision.”

“He tried to kill you, Master,” said Raettonus. “I was there. I watched him turn on you. You were friends, for God’s sake! And he tried to kill you for a little gold!”

“He wanted forgiveness,” Slade said, his voice breaking. “And you killed him?”

“He wanted to expunge his own guilt!” said Raettonus. He could feel his face growing hot with anger. Fire was beginning to flick up out of the skin along his shoulders and neck. “Death was too good for him.”

Slade turned away, toward Rhodes. “So you brought him back as a walking corpse,” he said quietly. “So he could suffer while his body slowly rotted even while he occupied it.”

Raettonus crossed his arms and straightened himself. “Master Slade,” he said. “I would do most anything for you, but I will not apologize for this. You may find it easy to forgive a man who feigned being your friend and tried to kill you, but I can’t do that. I refuse to do that. I killed him. I killed him, and even while I watched him burn to death and he screamed for mercy and begged me to put out the fire, I didn’t feel sorry—not for a moment. And afterward when I grabbed his soul as it was departing and tied it back to his corpse and he began to scream again as the pain rushed into him, I didn’t even pity him. I will not make apologies and say I made a wrong decision, and make myself a liar.”

Looking over his shoulder at Raettonus, Slade narrowed his eyes. “Who are you?” he asked. “You’re not the boy I knew. You’re like something that’s only inhabiting his skin. You’re a demon.”

“You don’t mean that,” said Raettonus, his eyes widening and his resolve breaking. He felt as though the air had been knocked out of him. “You can’t mean that…”

“I no longer feel like going to that feast,” Slade said, turning his back to Raettonus. “Please leave me.”

“Master, I—”

“Leave,” said Slade. His voice was hard.