Genius is always allowed some leeway, once the hammer has been pried from its hands and the blood has been cleaned up. -- Terry Pratchett, Thief of Time
In hindsight it was usually easy to see where everything had gone catastrophically wrong. There was always at least one moment you could point to and think, 'If only I'd done that differently'. Even if the person responsible couldn't see it, someone else would always be able to spot it. Historians spent their lives studying the chain of minor, unnoticed events that culminated in disaster.
It was a pity those minor, unnoticed events were never so easy to see before the disaster.
On festival days the guards were always more careless around the royal palaces. They were reduced to a mere skeleton staff, more interested in attending their own parties than doing their job. A few dedicated guards saw the problem with this and made sure they were around to keep an eye on things. But they were very few, and very far between. Most of the palace was unguarded.
It was a recipe for mayhem. There were no guards around to see a very odd figure shuffle up the steps leading to the main palace. Everyone who should have been on duty there were happily setting off fireworks and drinking with their friends.
Inside the palace the party-goers were preparing to go up to the roof. Evening had fallen, the sun had set, and the meteor shower would soon begin. All of them lit their lanterns and slowly made their way out of the ballroom.
With all the people milling around it was almost impossible to keep track of your companions. Abi found herself separated from Irímé and surrounded by people she only vaguely recognised. None of them spared her a second glance. She elbowed her way through the crowd, clutching her lantern to her chest so she didn't drop it and risk starting a fire, until she found someone she recognised.
"Kitri!"
She fully expected Kitri to run away as if a horde of demons were after her. But apparently the general air of festivity had overcome even necromancy-induced dislike, because Kitri smiled and waved at her as if the zombie apocalypse had never happened.
"Did you see some of those fireworks?" she shouted as she approached Abi. She had to shout just to be heard over the noise everyone else was making. "One of them looked just like a phoenix!"
Abi's smile became slightly fixed. Phoenixes were the source of some mild embarrassment for her. When she was born the priests and soothsayers had told her parents she would be a phoenix immortal, like her grandfather and many other past members of the Royal House of Sinistrah. It was one of the reasons she had been fostered in Seroyawa, for the phoenix was the symbol of the Royal House of Asajihisakata. Yet years had passed and she had never displayed any signs of being a shapeshifter of any sort. Kiriyuki and Mirio had been able to turn into sea serpents from the first few days of their lives. Arafaren, a raven immortal, had taken much longer to get the hang of his wings. But all of them were able to change form at will.
It wasn't uncommon for someone to have no talent at shapeshifting. It wasn't even uncommon for priests and soothsayers to be utterly wrong. Irímé was in the same position. Everyone had been sure he was a dragon immortal, hence his name[1]. He had never even managed to breath smoke, let alone fire, and had certainly never turned into a dragon.
Years ago he'd told her he was perfectly happy with this state of affairs. His exact words had been, "If I turned into a dragon Mother might add me to her collection."
There was a good chance he was right.
Anyway, it was still embarrassing to know Fate had played such a shoddy trick on her. Abi preferred not to think about phoenixes unless she couldn't avoid it.
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.
Kitri turned and glared at Abi. All her previous good-will vanished in the face of this unexpected interloper.
She didn't speak. She just mouthed the words, "Is this one of yours?"
Abi said nothing. She knew perfectly well that she hadn't raised any corpses recently. She also knew that she was the only necromancer in the room -- unless someone else had been keeping secrets, and if that was the case then they had far larger problems than just a walking corpse.
The figure continued to shamble onward. There was now no denying that it was heading straight for Abi. And as it drew closer she began to realise how much it resembled the corpse she raised in the cemetery.
But I un-necromanced it! Abi thought wildly, throwing grammar to the wind as the truth dawned on her. It can't be here! It's impossible!
The corpse stopped in front of her. It didn't move. It didn't speak. It gave no sign it was aware there was anyone near it at all. Low murmurs spread through the room.
Abi stared around frantically. She met Kiriyuki's gaze. Her foster sister gaped at her with a bug-eyed expression that would have been funny under any other circumstances. A short distance away Arafaren gave Abi a far-too-calculating look. He had always been too clever for his own good. She finally caught sight of Irímé in the crowd ahead of her. They exchanged glances that confirmed he had reached the same conclusion she had. When she looked back towards the ballroom she found Ilaran staring at the corpse with the same look of bug-eyed horror as Kiriyuki.
The people who had already gone upstairs on their way to the roof now realised that something had gone wrong. Curious faces appeared over the banisters. Abi's father was one of them. He started violently when he saw the grotesque figure in front of his daughter. In the process he spilled half his wine glass over his clothes.
Something had to be done before panic started. Or worse, before anyone put two and two together.
Go away, she ordered the corpse. Go to-- The cemetery was too far away. Half the city would see her if Abi sent her back there. Go to the royal crypt. Hide there and don't come out.
The corpse obediently turned and shuffled out. Everyone watched her go with wide eyes and open mouths. She disappeared out the open door. No one moved for several long minutes. Then they all began shouting at once.
Abi let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. Without the corpse actually there to attract suspicion, she could claim she knew nothing about it. No one had any reason to suspect her of necromancy. Well, no one but the people who already knew. And Arafaren. She'd have to find something to tell him soon. She could always try to convince everyone it was a threat aimed at the royal family, and she was simply unlucky enough to be the first royal the corpse discovered.
She could get out of this mess. She just needed to play her cards right.
~~~~
Never before had a festival ended in such uproar. The priests moaned and groaned about ill omens and bad luck. No two people could agree on what they had actually witnessed. The most common opinion was a prankster with terrible taste and worse timing. A small but vocal minority insisted it was an assassination attempt, or at least the threat of one. Why a relatively unknown and unimportant member of the royal family had been singled out remained a mystery. Theories abounded, ranging from the plausible -- one of the princess's friends playing a practical joke, possibly after too much to drink -- to the utterly outlandish -- an alien invasion, or a sign Princess Abihira was either blessed or cursed by the gods.
Only one person thought of necromancy or a walking corpse.
Despite what common knowledge claimed, necromancy was not nearly as dead as everyone thought. Many years ago Haliran had worked with a necromancer. She had seen walking corpses before. She knew what signs to look for.
If the sheer muddiness of the apparition hadn't been enough to convince her it had just crawled out of a grave, its single-minded determination would have. The thing about walking corpses was that they didn't have too much intelligence. Most of them weren't even capable of thinking. They did exactly what the person controlling them wanted them to do. In the absence of an explicit command, they would relentlessly seek out the necromancer who raised them. When they found them they would wait silently for their master to give them a command.
That was exactly what the entire royal court had witnessed. Haliran would wager anything you cared to name -- her house, her fortune, or even her life -- on it without even a minute's hesitation.
Now that the thought of necromancy had been put into her head she went over her memories of Abihira's visits. The first visit had been unremarkable. The second one, on the other hand... All the ghosts had been more restless that day than they had been in years. She had given no thought to it at the time. Ghosts were temperamental creatures by their very nature. Haliran was the only person who could see or hear them, and she was more than used to them by now. She had ignored their tantrums just as she had done in the past.
In hindsight it was so obvious that Abihira had communicated with them. Haliran could have kicked herself for not connecting the dots earlier.
What had Abihira learnt from them? No one had come to arrest Haliran, so whatever she knew she must have kept it to herself. But why?
Either she's going to blackmail me or she just doesn't care, Haliran thought.
The idea that the princess might be working with someone never entered her mind. If she had learnt something so damning she would have immediately used the knowledge to her own advantage, and she would have made sure the person concerned knew it. Like so many other people she was unable to comprehend the fact someone would not act exactly as she would, and would not have the same motives as she had.
Within an hour of the ruined festival she made her way to Princess Hartanna's palace. As she expected she found Princess Abihira there. From outward appearances the princess was perfectly calm and composed. That was the very thing that confirmed Haliran's suspicions. No one would be so calm right after such a public... incident.
Haliran bowed and assumed an air of concern. "I came to ask how you were, your Highness. What a terrible shock you must have had! And all this happened today, of all days!"
"How very kind of you," the princess said. "I'm touched by your concern."
She did her best, but she couldn't keep all the sarcasm out of her voice. Haliran noticed it at once.
Not bad, little princess, she thought dryly. But you still have a great deal to learn before you can deceive everyone.
The servant had left after showing Haliran into the sitting room. None of Abihira's family were present. Going by the angry yells she heard, it sounded like they were all having a right royal row in a room down the hall. Now if ever was the perfect time to have it out with the princess.
"Let's stop pretending," she said coldly, dropping all pretence of compassion. "I know that was a walking corpse. And I know it went to you because you raised it."
~~~~
You could have heard a pin drop in the sitting room. Well, you could have if it wasn't for the argument that had been raging for the last hour. Abi had never realised her parents could shout so loudly for so long.
She stared at Haliran, frozen in place and feeling as if she'd just been slapped. Her only thought was, How does she know?
It made no sense. There was nothing that could have given it away, especially not to Haliran of all people. Abi knew she should answer. She wanted to answer. But her tongue had turned to a leaden weight in her mouth.
Haliran smiled. It was a cold, vicious smile. Gone was her effusive politeness and inconsequential chatter. "I also know you spoke to the ghosts at my house."
She's a telepath, Abi realised. It was the only explanation that made sense. Damn it, why didn't I shield my mind better?
True telepaths were extremely rare. Before now Abi had only met two in her whole life. She'd never thought she needed to defend herself from one. She immediately constructed stronger mental shields. But what was the use of that now?
"What do you want?" she asked, and prepared for the worst. Would Haliran denounce her to the empress?
"Nothing just yet," Haliran said, to Abi's surprise. "The question is, what do you want? Do you intend to blackmail me? If so you should have done it before your little stunt this evening. Now I have even more power over you than you have over me."
Unfortunately she was right. Abi knew it even as she wished she didn't. She couldn't denounce Haliran without revealing how she got her information. Worse, if Ilaran denounced Haliran then all Haliran had to do was denounce Abi in turn. Attention would immediately fall on Abi, and no one would have time to worry about anything else.
Abi could have kicked herself. What a fool I've been!
Some of her thoughts must have shown on her face. Or perhaps her mental shields still weren't strong enough. Haliran smiled again. Never before had Abi seen a smile that incited her to such rage.
"Don't worry. I won't tell the empress. On one condition. From now on you will do exactly what I ask of you, no matter what it is. And you will never mention the ghosts in my house to anyone."
Too late, Abi thought with spiteful satisfaction. She balled her hands into fists so she wouldn't be tempted to strangle Haliran. Just you wait until tomorrow!
Instead of comforting her that thought gave her pause. What would happen tomorrow? She was sure that Haliran would fall. But now, with a sickening sort of certainty, she knew she would be dragged down with her.
"Do we have a deal?"
Abi stared at Haliran. Again she felt the urge to wring her tormentor's scrawny neck.
"We do," she said. Her voice was little more than a croak.
Haliran smiled -- that hideous smile again! The mere sight of it drove Abi into a fury -- and got up to leave.
Abi sat alone in the room for a long time after she left. At last she laughed -- a bitter, humourless laugh.
"Well, I've made a fine mess of things," she said aloud to herself. "What in the world am I going to do now?"
Never before had she considered necromancy a potential weapon. She considered it now. At length, and in great detail.
It was the early hours of the morning before she left the sitting room. The argument was still raging down the hall. An unfortunate servant crossed her path, took one look at her face, and fled as if a pack of hellhounds were after him.
No one saw Abi leave the palace. No one saw her walk to the royal crypt. The whole city was in darkness, and the moon and the stars were the only witnesses.
The moon and the stars, and one nameless corpse.
END OF BOOK ONE
Chapter Footnotes:
[1] "Irímé" means "dragon" in Saoridhin.