The Power and the Glory

Book 1 Chapter XVIII: Abihira and Haliran

She swept past, leaving Líusal to gape and splutter behind her. One of the doors creaked open and Kiriyuki popped her head out.

"If you're looking for your darling fiancé, he's gone to the opera," she began. She stopped, looked more closely at Abi's unnatural pallor and how tense she was, and realised they were all on very thin ice. "Your mother wants to talk to you about your dress for the festival. I'll tell her you don't feel well."

"Thank you," Abi forced herself to say. The words stuck in her throat and came out sounding far more sarcastic than she meant. "I'm going to bed. I have a headache."

~~~~

Even the most absurd opera could provide a welcome distraction from grim reality. For over three hours Irímé managed to forget necromancy, murders, and plans to communicate with the dead. He focused on the opera's comical story of a misplaced letter, a case of mistaken identity, and a thoroughly unwelcome visitor as if it was the most interesting thing he'd ever seen. When the performance was over he felt less as if life was a vale of tears, and more ready to face whatever Abihira had discovered during her visit.

Unfortunately his mother was lying in wait when he left the theatre. She pounced before he could get into the carriage.

"There you are!" she exclaimed. "I've been looking everywhere for you. Come along! We're going shopping. It's time you had a suitable outfit for the festival."

Irímé found himself dragged off before he could protest.

Oh well, he thought with forced optimism. I don't expect Abi will have heard anything really important.

~~~~

Hours passed. Thank the gods, everyone left Abi alone. Of course she knew it couldn't last. But while it did the peace and quiet was more than welcome. In the silence of her room she lay on top of her bed and replayed the events of the afternoon. She focused especially on the clearest voice she'd heard.

"I am buried under the door."

The child hadn't specified which door. Abi suspected it was probably the front one. Many thousands of years ago there had been a cruel custom. When a house was newly-built it was believed that evil spirits would get in unless there was a guardian at the door to keep them out. Only someone with a pure, untainted heart could be the guardian. And so the house's owner found a young child. Sometimes it was their own child. Sometimes parents outright sold their children to gain money and respect. Sometimes they kidnapped a rival's child. However it happened, they brought the child to the house, killed them, and buried them under the door.

Empress Merelyin outlawed the practice more than a hundred thousand years ago. It still lingered in some places, kept quiet and never openly spoken of. Abi had never heard of an actual case before. Yet she couldn't think of any other likely explanation.

Now she had to find out who had built Haliran's manor. If Haliran herself had built it, she was probably the murderess. If someone else had, Haliran couldn't be implicated in it without solid evidence.

I can't just ask Grandmother to dig up the front step without a reason, Abi thought. Maybe Ilaran knows something more about it.

The clatter of approaching footsteps jarred her out of her thoughts and warned her that peace and quiet was about to vanish.

Hartanna threw the door open without bothering to knock. "Abihira! Come and choose which of these dresses you'll wear."

Abi got up with a sigh. Necromancy and murder investigations would just have to wait. Even if Hartanna had known about them, festival clothes would always take precedence.

~~~~

The chessboard in Ilaran's room had changed once again. He'd run out of knights, so instead he added a king and queen to the group arrayed against the rook. It was a sight that would have reduced any chess enthusiast to tears of rage at all the broken rules and the complete lack of logic. Ilaran, who had never been able to understand chess no matter how hard he tried, saw nothing wrong with how he used it to make his plans. It was both easy visual shorthand and a riddle that only he and those closest to him could solve.

He stared at it thoughtfully, debating whether or not to move the pawns representing Haliran's allies closer to the rook representing her. When he looked up he found a snake opposite him. It stared at the board with the horrified expression of someone who did understand chess but couldn't make heads or tails out of this mess.

"Hello, Shizuki," Ilaran said.

Shizuki changed back into his immortal form. He waved a hand at the board. "What is this?"

From his tone anyone would have thought he'd just witnessed something appalling.

"A code I invented. It's a good thing you're here. I've something very important to tell you. We have two new allies."

Ilaran expected questions on who they were and why he thought he could trust them. Shizuki only frowned.

"Today one shouts loud?" he asked. That made as much sense as Kivoduin's philosophical ramblings after too many drinks. He grimaced, willed away his fangs, and tried again. "The princess visited Haliran again today. I don't know what on earth happened, but she woke me up with her yelling. Then I heard her talking to herself."

For a minute Ilaran worried about Abihira's mental health. Then he remembered this was the woman who had successfully raised the dead. She was practically required to be... eccentric.

"Yes, Princess Abihira is one. Her fiancé is the other."

He gave a brief explanation of how he met them. Shizuki's eyes grew wider and wider as the story continued.

"A necromancer?" he screeched. "A necromancer?"

"She can help us get information from the people Haliran's killed," Ilaran said, ignoring his own doubts on that score.

Shizuki still didn't look convinced. "But she's a necromancer! That's very dark magic!"

Clearly this was an argument he wouldn't win.

"She's helping us," Ilaran said firmly. "I've seen her raise the dead. She can control them, however she does it."

Perhaps that was stretching the truth a little. But at least it silenced Shizuki's objections.

~~~~

Abi believed she had un-reanimated the corpse she raised. Irímé and Ilaran also had no doubts that the girl they helped rebury had not been conscious. None of them gave any thought to the grave or its occupant. None of them thought to check on the body.

Under the heavy weight of earth, safely secured in her coffin, the dead girl lay silent and motionless.

Her reawakened heart still beat steadily.