The Power and the Glory

Book 1 Chapter XXI: The Necromancer

Kitri knew nothing about the uncomfortable memories her comment had dredged up. She continued to prattle happily about the many different fireworks, how much she'd enjoyed the ball, and some of the stranger lantern designs she'd seen. Abi listened, occasionally interjecting with a comment of her own. From time to time she looked around for Irímé. There was still no sign of him. Or of Ilaran, for that matter.

The thought of Ilaran dredged up even more uncomfortable memories than the mention of phoenixes. No matter how she looked at it, there was no way she could defend or excuse Siarvin killing an innocent child. Nor could she allow him to get away with it. Yet from Siarvin's perspective -- and from Ilaran's too -- he had done nothing wrong.

Cultural clashes were nothing new to Abi. Seroyawa had many customs and attitudes that Saoridhlém considered strange, and vice versa. Seroyawa allowed a man to have multiple wives or concubines. Saoridhlém had historically allowed royal women to have as many as four husbands, but never allowed men to have more than one wife. Divination was still widely accepted in Seroyawa, while Saoridhlém was becoming more sceptical. But in spite of all their other differences both of them agreed that killing children was reprehensible.

Who decides what's right? Abi thought. Her head began to ache the more she thought about this. Does something stop being wrong because the people who do it think it's all right?

That thought led her on a complicated and increasingly incoherent attempt at solving the same philosophical questions that had baffled the wise and learned for longer than she was alive.

"It's a nice idea, of course," Kitri was saying, blissfully unaware that Abi wasn't even listening to most of her remarks, "but a lantern without glass is simply impractical. I told her so myself. She just laughed. Then she made the lantern anyway and the candle went out in the first gust of wind. Some people have no common sense."

"Yes," Abi agreed absently, having a vague idea that some response was required.

"Even that wasn't as ridiculous as--"

A piercing scream rang out. Everyone froze. Kitri forgot what she was going to say. The crowd was moving so slowly that Abi and Kitri were still just outside the ballroom doors. Over two hundred people blocked their view of the entrance hall. Even standing on tiptoe gave them no clear idea of what was happening.

After craning her neck to see over everyone's heads, Abi said, "It looks like the front doors are open."

Kitri's eyes widened. "Do you think it's a burglar?"

No burglar would be brave enough. Not when so many people are here, Abi thought.

Somewhere near the front of the crowd people began to move apart. From the sounds of things the crowd was splitting into two halves, almost right down the middle. Mutters and exclamations filtered back to those who couldn't see what the fuss was about.

"What in the world?"

"How hideous!"

"If this is someone's idea of a joke I hope they know it's not one bit funny."

"Someone get her out of here!"

"What happened to her?"

"Miss? Are you all right?"

The murmurs drew nearer and nearer. The crowd began to part just in front of Abi and Kitri. Finally they were able to see the cause of all this confusion.

Abi took one look. Her heart sank.

It was an exceptionally dirty figure in mud-encrusted clothes. Yet when she looked closely enough, she saw they were funeral clothes. Worst of all was how horribly familiar the figure's shambling gait was. The walking corpses in the marketplace had moved the same way.