Necromancer continued

[maderr]

Koray woke slowly, and with great reluctance, wanting nothing so badly as to hold on to the dream of being enveloped in warmth, of being held – touched. Even now thinking such a thing made his eyes sting.

Finally he made his eyes open, and sat up with a groan, body stiff from the hard floor and—

Nothing. He…he didn’t feel cold. Chilled, perhaps, but it was faint. He wouldn’t start getting cold for hours yet. This…this was like nothing he’d ever felt. His spirit was fully replenished, as if it had not been almost completely sapped by his short time in the dungeon. Koray shuddered at the memory of that awful place.

A softly murmured word brought forth the violet light, flooding the small tomb, and he spied a tray of food nearby. Removing the cover revealed a breakfast long turned cold. It seemed the Paladin was agreeing to at least one term…they would see on the others.

Why was he so warm? Had he been asleep so long that hiding away in this tomb had healed him completely? Hesitantly Koray reached up to touch his face, touching his cheek, fingers catching in a strand of hair. His spirit was completely restored – for the first time since he’d started down the path of necromancy.

How? Was it simply staying in this tomb? The lingering power of a long dead Paladin? That didn’t make sense.

Shaking his head, Koray shoved the mystery aside and determined simply to enjoy the warmth while it lasted, enjoy the food before him. Good bread, no longer warm but still delicious. A hunk of cheese that wasn’t half-dried and useless to everyone else. The porridge was cold and pasty, but Koray still thought it was wonderful – and it had honey. When was the last time he’d had honey?

At last finished, Koray gathered up the tray and walked outside. Should he take it to the kitchens? He shuddered at the thought, at the looks he would get…he’d left the last one, and it was no longer here. Not certain what else to do, he left it in front of the door and slowly made his way through the graveyard, touching a stone here and there that seemed to radiate a faint feeling of peace, even happiness. People who had lived well, died well. A rarity.

Once in the main courtyard, ignoring the people and spirits that milled around him, Koray pulled his charged crystal from a pocket in his robes and held it out. Late afternoon sunshine caught it, made it sparkle, made the silver chain glitter. Murmuring a soft command, he blocked out everything until he heard only a silence, his attention only for the crystal as it began slowly to move.

There were yet more spirits that could provide information on the dead priest. Oblivious to everything, Koray followed the crystal as it began to indicate where he should go, spinning slowly, then picking up its pace, back and forth as he wove through the castle.

He slowed as he approached an open door, stopping completely just inside as he realized he’d found his way to a garden. Not a private one, he hoped. He didn’t feel like dealing with some offended royal or noble.

The high stone walls made it seem like some secret, forgotten place. Small trees and colorful plants and flowers filled the place; the only spots free of greenery were a small bench tucked far away in the back corner and a small, stone path that wandered with seeming aimlessness through the garden.

Something…there was a presence here. A ghost…but no hostility. A benevolent presence, quite rare. Koray drew a breath and focused harder on locating the presence.

“Necromancer,” a voice said behind him. Koray spun around, concentration broken, and was startled to see how close Sorin was – how had he not heard him? Eyes the blue of a summer lake watched him intently, and Koray stared back, refusing to be unsettled. There was something different about him…a…focus to the Paladin that had not been there before.

“Paladin. Did you need something?”

“Several things,” Sorin replied. “What happened in the dungeon for one, and I would like to speak to you whenever you have a chance.”

Koray tensed and drew into his robes, letting his hood fall farther forward to obscure his features completely. “About what?” he asked. “I’ve done nothing wrong – except be here of course.”

Annoyance filled Sorin’s face and he stalked forward, and Koray gasped as the Paladin simply reached out and shoved the hood from his face, too startled by the action and the warmth that flooded him, overtook him.

Familiar warmth. Comprehension flooded him. “You touched me. While I slept. Why?”

Confusion combined with the annoyance on Sorin’s face. “Why can I touch you?” Sorin asked, frowning thoughtfully. “I’ve always been told necromancy is black magic, yet when I found you in the tomb and tried to help you…” He trailed off, unable or unwilling to finish his sentence.

Koray frowned, his own confusion rising – and suspicion. Hours ago this man had cared about nothing more than making sure he solved the mystery and left as quickly as possible. Now he was asking questions no one had ever bothered to ask. “Why should I tell you anything?” he demanded. “What do you really want?”

“The truth,” Sorin said. “My powers have been in turmoil since you arrived, and I thought it was because of Alfrey’s murder and the presence of a black mage. Yet the moment I touched you, the turmoil ceased. Tell me about necromancy.”

So Sorin had held him while he’d slept…his dream had not been entirely false. He’d been held. Touched. By the holiest of men. It couldn’t be true. “No one cares about necromancy,” he snapped. “Even you recoiled every time I drew too close. I go to sleep and suddenly you ask questions that no one ever asks.”

“Maybe because you’re too busy snapping at everyone for anyone to get a question in!” Sorin replied, heat filling the room as his power flared with his anger. “Since I have met you, necromancer, I have heard nothing but harsh, cold words from you. I have admitted to my mistakes and apologized for them! I am trying to right my wrongs, but I cannot do so if you continue to snipe at me and run away.”

Koray glared. “So I should just trust you? Paladin, the last time I did work as complicated as what you’re demanding of me, I fell unconscious in a damp field. When I woke, I was still in that field. No one touches me. No one comes any closer to me than they must. Women hide and men would beat me if they did not fear the curses I could lay upon them. You, the holiest and strongest of men, recoiled from my touch.”

“Confound it, necromancer, I thought my touch would hurt you! I have done battles with demons, necromancer – touching you would hardly upset me.” Sorin raked a hand through his red-blonde hair in frustration, his expression saying he wanted nothing more than to throttle Koray. “All I’ve heard my entire life is that necromancy is black magic. That people think so obviously angers you. I am asking for you to correct me and you get angry! Confound it, necromancer, it is not your magic that repels people – it is your thorns!”

“My thorns,” Koray repeated.

“Yes,” Sorin replied, temper calming. “I would like you to explain your craft to me – for a price, if you like. I dislike that I was so ill informed. More, that apparently everyone is misinformed – though if all necromancers act like you, it is little wonder people are reluctant to ask questions.”

Koray bristled. “I have reasons for acting as I do. We cannot all be loved and adored for bearing the power of the goddess, Paladin.”

Sorin looked weary, and for a moment Koray thought he even looked a little sad. “Yes,” he said, “for bearing the power of the Goddess. Everyone loves the Paladin.” He shook his head. “So will you speak with me, necromancer, or must we continue to fight?”

“You truly want to know?”

“How can I convince you?” Sorin’s face suddenly brightened. “Ah. I have some small offering, anyway. Come with me.”

Frowning, hating how uncertain and confused he felt, Koray stowed his crystal and obediently followed. Hopefully whatever had drawn him to the garden would not be going anywhere – highly doubtful, as he’d been looking for ghosts, but then again a ghost had been stolen.

He followed Sorin through the halls, up the stairs and down a well-lit hallway.

The warmth that filled the room startled him, and he knew suddenly this was Sorin’s room. It was positively soaked in the Paladin’s power. Two tapestries hung on the wall – one a portrayal of what he knew to be one of the first Paladins, the other of a herd of horses running beneath the sun.

On the far side of the room was an enormous bed, dark wood and deep blue fabric, bed drapes drawn back and tied with dark gold cording. Blue and gold rugs were splashes of color on the stone floor, an enormous one by the fire hosting a table and chairs. A wardrobe and trunk were set in a corner near the bed, and here and there Koray could see bits of Sorin and his life – a dagger on the table, obviously waiting to be cleaned. A sword belt draped over the foot of the bed, a lingering smell of steel and leather.

The warmth, too, was impossible to ignore. Here was a room ghosts would never approach. Only one was even remotely close – at the far end of the long hallway. Too much of the Paladin dwelt here for them to approach.

Sorin motioned him further into the room and moved to the table, and for the first time Koray noticed the bundles piled in one chair. One by one Sorin set them out on the table, until there were half a dozen bundles on the table.

Bundles of fabric. It wasn’t hard to figure out what they were. What was hard to figure out was the quantity – and the quality. These weren’t the old, threadbare and heavily patched robes he was used to receiving.

They were also the wrong color. Generally the robes he received were brown, or even dark blue, the robes worn by the youngest ranks of the priesthood – acolytes and those newly inducted into the Church as full Priests.

The ones on the table were deep, deep violet, the color worn by high ranking Priests – and the Paladin himself. Nor were they in poor condition. If these were old robes, he wondered what the new ones looked like. “The High Priest sends them with his gratitude for your help and his full blessing. He was not certain of your size, so sent a variety, and says you may keep all that you like. If none suit your needs, you need only say and others will be brought.”

Koray reached out to touch the nearest bundle, barely biting back a gasp at the softness of the fabric – rich, fine wool for the coming cold. “These have been blessed,” he said, forcing his fingers to let the fabric go.

“Is that a problem?”

“No,” Koray said, feeling more unsteady than ever. “Why?”

Sorin lifted one brow. “It’s something the High Priest does with everything. I think he blesses his shoes. Possibly the broom he uses to sweep the steps in the morning. For all I know the man blesses his dirty laundry.”

Koray clapped a hand over his mouth and dropped his head, struggling not to laugh, surprised that he wanted to – but the image of the High Priest blessing dirty laundry…

“Laughing was not a crime, last I checked,” Sorin replied, and Koray looked up to see the faint smile on his face. “Though maybe necromancers aren’t allowed. Who knows? You have made me painfully aware that I know nothing about your craft.” He motioned for Koray to take a seat. “Perhaps you will be good enough to enlighten me.”

A knock at the door cut off Koray’s reply, and he stood silently as servants appeared with food and drink, clearing away the robes to set the meal out properly. He heard Sorin thank them, then they were once more left alone.

“I thought you would be hungry when you woke, and your breakfast would have been cold. Do you always sleep so hard after…whatever it was you did in the dungeon?” Sorin sighed, looking suddenly sad. “Perhaps you should tell me first what you have learned of Alfrey. I would know who is responsible for my friend’s death.”

His friend? Koray had realized he must have known the man, and logically it made sense that the Paladin would befriend priests…but somehow he’d missed that completely. Sorin had been so matter of fact about everything.

Feeling wholly out of his element, waiting for the moment when the Paladin ordered him out, returned to all but ignoring him, Koray sat down and stared at the food on his plate, gathering his thoughts. “The dungeon…my crystal, charged with Alfrey’s energy, led me down there and to that far cell. I found the ghost of a seamstress, she said her name was Nella…”

“Nella?” Sorin asked. “She vanished nigh on two weeks ago. The other women about the castle said she’d been making noises about leaving…her stuff was gone, it was assumed she had left.”

Koray shook his head, trying not to shudder at the memories. “She was kept down there, after being beaten, abused…eventually she bled to death.”

Horror and pain filled Sorin’s face. “By the Goddess…why?”

“Because she was having an affair with Alfrey,” Koray replied. “She is spelled against telling me who killed her – the same person, I’d imagine, who killed Alfrey. Whoever it was, they killed her because of her relationship with Alfrey. Apparently they had been planning to travel across the sea together.”

“Goddess…” Sorin shook his head. “Why did Alfrey never tell me any of this? He and Nella? I never knew…all the times we spoke…I thought we were friends.” His eyes slid shut, and Koray watched the way his lips moved, soundlessly reciting prayers. His bright blue eyes were dark when he finally opened them. Dark though they were, however, Sorin’s eyes were as sharp as ever. “Why would someone steal Alfrey’s ghost but not Nella’s?”

Koray shrugged. “Perhaps they did not think it necessary. According to her, no one knew about them. Certainly no one knew she was down there. Perhaps they did not know I would be able to find her.”

“No doubt,” Sorin said. “The King expected you to be gone in a matter of hours.”

Yet it didn’t really make sense. Any necromancer with the skill and power to steal a ghost should have known a simple crystal was all that would be needed to find Nella’s ghost. Then again…Nella had been spelled against telling him anything useful. She could say what happened, and why, but not who – stealing her ghost wasn’t necessary.

“Is there no way to learn the identity of the killer?”

“I do not know,” Koray said, staring thoughtfully at his food, stomach rumbling though he’d finished his cold breakfast not so long ago. “When you found me in the garden, my crystal had just led me there. I did not get to find out why Alfrey’s energies were strong there.”

“My apologies,” Sorin replied. “Should we go back?”

“No, the ghost isn’t going anywhere.”

Sorin nodded. “I had not thought Alfrey’s murder would prove so complicated.” He motioned to the food. “Eat, necromancer. The cooks would be mad if they knew my talking allowed the food to grow cold.”

Not knowing what else to do, Koray obeyed and began slowly to eat, struggling to recall manners he had not required in more than a decade, feeling horribly outclassed alongside Sorin, who seemed to do positively everything with innate elegance.

He sipped the wine hesitantly, not able to remember the last time he’d had anything but water from a stream or the holy water in the flask hidden in his robes. After a cautious third sip, he set it aside, not willing to find out what would happen if he drank all of it.

Eating dinner alone with the Paladin. It was something he had never, in his wildest imaginings, dreamed could happen. He wondered how much longer he had until he woke alone in his tomb, shaking with cold, stomach growling with hunger, body aching from the awkward way he’d collapsed.

“So will you tell me of necromancers? Of your craft?”

Koray frowned at his plate. “Why does it matter? In two more days I will be gone and you will likely never see another necromancer.”

“It matters because a wrong has long been left uncorrected,” Sorin said, temper flaring. “I was always taught – the High Priest was always taught – that necromancers were the blackest of mages. That only demons are worse. Yet earlier today I heard you invoke the Goddess herself in your spell casting, learned that my touch somehow helps you, and that the Goddess herself was angry on your behalf. All of the Goddess’s blessed should be treated with deference and respect. Necromancers have long been wrongly shunned and I seek to fix that. Why will you not help me?”

Koray stared, food forgotten. He blinked. “You…really believe all that, don’t you?”

“Of course I believe it,” Sorin said irritably. “Why would I not? If necromancers are blessed, they should be treated accordingly.”

Something in Koray’s chest tightened, and he could feel a sting in his eyes. Quickly he ducked his head, focusing on his food until he was able to control himself. Sorin had seemed in every way obnoxious when they’d met…now he was nothing of the sort. Now he seemed to be exactly what a Paladin should be. It was disconcerting. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything,” Sorin replied, expression clearing when he realized Koray was going to cooperate. He smiled briefly. “I guess that’s not very clear. Tell me…how does one become a necromancer? It does not seem to be a life which brings you much joy.”

Koray looked at his plate. “There are things I like about it. Sometimes there are kind ghosts. I like the spells themselves, the scent of myrrh…” He drew a shuddering breath, blocking out images he did not want dredged up. “But to become a necromancer…how did you become a holy knight? Paladin?”

“I started in the priesthood,” Sorin replied ruefully. “I had too much of a temper for it. One day I was helping out a small village when it was attacked by demons – my temper proved to be beneficial, as we had not taken any holy knights with us. The next day I was handed over to the knighthood…ten years after that, after the Paladin died, his powers found their new home in me.”

“So it came naturally, in the end.”

Sorin shrugged. “Many say we are born to our paths. Others say we merely find them.”

Koray gazed into the empty fireplace, unable to speak for several long moments. When he finally spoke it was softly, slowly. “I was born in the village of Vosnuth.”

Sorin hissed in surprise. Vosnuth…once a mountain village. Raided by bandits – everyone had been brutally killed, the village burned to the ground. When people had finally gone to investigate the smoke, there had been nothing left but ashes and a few corpses. No one had survived. Or so they thought.

“My grief refused to let them go,” Koray continued. “I would not admit that death meant they were gone. So great was my grief, my adamant refusal to admit defeat, that my powers slipped toward the black just enough that I could see ghosts. I did not realize what had happened until another necromancer found me, and saved me from killing myself trying to help the ghosts of the townspeople find peace. That is how a man becomes a necromancer, Paladin.”

“Goddess…”

Koray looked up at the odd, rough, tone of Sorin’s voice, and was brought up short by the sheer pain that filled his face.

“That is truly the requirement?” Sorin finally managed, hands fisted on the table. “Do all necromancers have such sad tales?”

Koray shrugged. “When we happen to meet, we do not discuss it. I’ve no doubt they do, but I do not know their individual stories.” He took a deep breath, shoved the memories aside. “What is your next question, Paladin?”

“You need not address me so formally,” Sorin said. “As to questions…simply tell me of your craft. What you did down in the dungeon for instance.”

“The dungeon was the simplest of what I—“ Koray was cut off by a sharp rapping at the door.

Sorin glared at the door, then with a resigned sigh called for the knocker to enter.

“Lord Paladin, the King requests your presence at once.”

“It cannot wait?” Sorin asked.

“He says not, Lord Paladin.”

“Very well,” Sorin said, standing up. “Necromancer, if you do not mind waiting, I will return shortly.” He paused to speak with the servant a moment more, voice too low for Koray to catch, then with a last nod departed.

Koray sat awkwardly, uncertain what he should be doing. He jumped when the door opened and three servants came in, bearing two more trays, a flagon and glasses. They hesitated on the threshold. Mouth twisting in bitterness, Koray stood up and moved to the window, well away from the table, drawing his hood up as the servants set to work clearing the table, setting out a platter of fruit, another of pastries that smelled like cinnamon.

They never completely took their eyes off him, always watching him, distrust and suspicion plainly written on their faces. Grimacing, Koray turned his back to look outside. Maybe they thought he was laying a curse upon their precious Paladin.

When the servants finally left, Koray pushed back his hood and returned to the table but didn’t sit. Instead he picked up one of the robes that had been carefully set aside, shaking it out and holding it up.

So soft, the wool by far the finest he’d even seen. Expertly stitched, and it looked as though it were all but new. It was warm to the touch, the blessing bestowed upon it lending a heat to which most would be oblivious. His current robes, by comparison, were nearly cold. Were these really his? Of course he could only take one to wear and a spare…but they would last him years if he was careful, and had a priest renew the blessings from time to time. He itched to try them on, to see if they were as wonderful as they promised to be.

The color though…would people try to take the violet robes from him? It was a color worn by the holy orders; no one would approve of a necromancer wearing them. Koray frowned, more upset than he liked to admit that he couldn’t accept these robes. People would accuse him of impersonating a priest, and he didn’t know what that might inspire them to do.

“You should try them on.”

Koray whirled around, the robe slipping from his fingers in surprise. “How are you always sneaking up on me?” he demanded.

“I’ve practice aplenty in sneaking up on demons,” Sorin replied, smiling. “A necromancer lost in thought is hardly a challenge. Do the robes not suit? You looked displeased.”

“I am wondering what people will do to me when they think I am attempting to impersonate a priest.”

Sorin stooped to retrieve the dropped robe, and as he stood, a mere step or so away, Koray was struck for the first time just how much taller the man was. Sorin also seemed to be at least twice his own weight and width. “Technically you’re not – these robes are free of the markings that would normally be stitched in silver.” Sorin gave a sheepish smile. “I told the High Priest you wanted old robes, but after going through the chests he preferred to give you robes that were pre-made and kept for future priests – which is why they’re free of the embroidery. You should try one on – then we can finish our meal and continue our discussion.”

“There’s no need—“ Koray stopped as Sorin thrust the robe into his hands and waited expectantly.

“We can see if they’ll fit properly, so I know whether or not to harass the High Priest later.”

Koray frowned at the robes, trying not to be affected by the eyes he could feel watching him. At last he shrugged. It’s not as though he were doing anything wrong, even though it felt like it. Setting the robe aside, he carefully began to shrug out of his own.

Something metal hit the stone floor as he set it aside, and before he could move Sorin bent and retrieved the fallen object – an old leather flask. He looked at it in curiosity, then at Koray.

“Holy water,” Koray replied with a grimace. “When I get too cold. It doesn’t do much, but it helps.” He slid his robe from his shoulders, which left him standing in old breeches, the brown homespun faded and heavily patched with bits of past robes, and an old brown shirt, as threadbare as the breeches. Around his waist was a leather belt – his one expensive piece – and affixed to it were all manner of pouches, holding the implements of his trade. Incense, his bells, a small jar of ashes that had cost him another streak of gray in his hair, flint…all the things which helped him survive but also kept him apart. The clothes were too big, hanging on his frame, but he’d never had the time or energy to tailor them as best his feeble skills allowed.

“No wonder you’re always so cold, necromancer,” Sorin said with a frown. “There is nothing to you but skin and bone.”

“That is not why I am cold, Paladin.”

“Then why?” Sorin moved forward and snatched up the violet robe before Koray could, swinging it up and around, pulling it over him, laughing softly at Koray’s outraged protests. When the robe was on, he reached out to brush away the black and white strands of his hair. “Why were you so cold to the touch, before?”

Koray glared at him, then dropped his gaze to examine the robe, answering the question slowly. “I am cold, Paladin, because the ghosts constantly leech my spirit trying to communicate – oft times all they want to do is talk, but many want to cause harm. Ordinary magic calls upon a different sort of energy – that which everyone has. Mages simply have it in greater quantity.”

“Yes, this I know. Necromancy is different?”

“Necromancy is communicating with the dead. With the spirit and emotions left over when people die and are not ready to rest in peace. Ordinary magic is of the living; if I am to communicate with the dead, I must use the same energy they employ – that of the spirit. Always they try to steal it, and that combined with my using it to do my work leaves me cold and weak.”

He could see the confusion turn to comprehension on Sorin’s face. “So the holy energies of the Goddess would replenish your spirit – and keep you warm. That is why you need priest robes…and why I was able to warm you.”

“Yes,” Koray said, carefully not looking at him, fingers tightening in the folds of his new robes.

Sorin laughed suddenly. “So I’m much like a fireplace to you.”

Koray blinked and looked up, then quickly ducked his head again, biting his lip.

“As I said before, necromancer, laughing isn’t a crime.” Sorin moved past him and resumed his seat at the table. “I see they managed the pastries after all,” he said with a smile, and Koray was struck suddenly by how much younger it made him look. How less like a Paladin and more like just a simple person. He looked hastily away, eyes falling on his old robes.

He could feel Sorin’s eyes on him, but the Paladin thankfully did nothing more than continue with his questions. “So what else can you tell me?”

Koray shrugged. “No one has ever asked before, so I do not know what to say. I do not think the details of my spell casting would interest you…”

“Incense,” Sorin muttered as he swallowed a bit of cinnamon bun. “You used myrrh. No offense, necromancer, but I do not see how you afford myrrh.”

Habit drove Koray to grasp a silvery strand of his hair, play restlessly with it. “There is a sorcerer far to the north who helps necromancers. He buys the things we need and trades them for assistance with spells, experiments. I once rid a cave on his lands of the ghosts of half a dozen bandits that were haunting it. Their aura was affecting his magic in that area, as well as scaring off game, even disrupting the plants. For that, I will be well supplied with myrrh for some time yet.”

Sorin nodded, eyes on Koray’s hair, the fingers restlessly twisting and pulling it. “Why is your hair so strange?”

“Because some ghosts do not take kindly to what we do,” Koray said, voice hoarse. “They take much from us, and leave their mark.”

A chair slid across rug and then Sorin was looming over him again, and Koray started to recoil but the hand in his hair startled him into halting, unbelievable warmth combining with surprising gentleness as Sorin’s fingers slid through his hair. “You bear a lot of marks.”

“I’ve been doing this since I was ten,” Koray said. “In another decade or so, there will be no black left in my hair.”

“Why?” Sorin asked softly. “Why do you so something that obviously causes you so much pain?”

Koray let out a soft sigh. “It is not all bad, and I could no more walk away from it than you could from being Paladin.” He looked at the tapestries but saw all the places he’d been over the years. “There was a village I once helped – the whole place had a gloomy feel to it. Heavy and dark. Nothing grew well there, as hard as they tried. I was passing through and noticed the wrongness…I began to seek it out, and despite the welcome I did not receive,” his mouth twisted at the unpleasant memory, “I discovered a girl had been…brutally treated and then killed some years ago. Her ghost haunted the entire village, so great was her rage and grief. I told them what she told me – what had occurred, who had done it, and after that set her to rest. I told them to have the entire village blessed and went on my way.” With an old rind of cheese, a loaf of bread, and an old shirt for payment – and those only from the family of the girl’s ghost. No one else had been happy to hear who had killed her. “If you were to go there now, you would see the village is prospering. Such is the work of a necromancer.”

“What I do not understand is why no one is aware of all this.”

“Because they do not want to be aware, Paladin. No one likes death, why should they have any fondness for those of us who are, relatively speaking, comfortable with it?” Koray sighed. “It does not matter. They employ us when they need to. We get by, and even if no one else realizes it, we know we do the work of the Goddess.” He finally turned back to Sorin. “Communicating with ghosts is not always an awful thing.” Here was a question he’d never asked anyone, and he didn’t know why he was about to do it now. “Would you like to see one?”

Sorin stopped whatever he’d been about to say, expression dumbfounded as Koray’s words struck him. “What? See one? A ghost? That’s impossible.”

Koray laughed at the look on his face, then abruptly slapped a hand over his mouth. He turned sharply away. “I can show you one, if you want.”

“It…won’t hurt you?”

“No…not really. I’ve done far worse than what I’m about to do. Do you…really want to see?” He looked suspiciously at Sorin, still waiting for the moment when the Paladin turned, denounced him, banished him from the castle.

Sorin, however, simply nodded, a stubborn expression settling on his face. “Yes, necromancer, I would like to see a ghost.”

“All right…” Koray said, genuinely surprised. He had not expected Sorin to agree so readily – or even at all. “The one in the garden, then – I was about to seek it out when you found me.”

“Very well.” Sorin snatched one last bit of his cinnamon bun from his plate and then strode to the door, opening it and waiting for Koray, who drew up his hood and bemusedly followed. In the hallways, he led the way through the corridors, down the stairs and eventually back to the garden. “What now, necromancer?”

Koray stepped into the center of the garden, just off the stone path, and eased the barriers he had learned to instinctively keep up against ghosts, somewhat puzzled that he did not immediately see the ghost haunting the garden though he could feel her readily enough…and he definitely sensed the ghost was female.

Energy rippled behind him and he turned toward the eastern wall. Smiling, Koray drew his hood back and greeted her. “Hale, sweet sister. Are we disturbing you?”

The ghost, a pale, silvery image of a beautiful young woman in garb not worn by maids for several decades, smiled at him and shook her head. Her hair was neatly plaited atop her head, a few silvery flowers tucked into the plait. She stood up and brushed off her skirts, then curtsied to him.

Koray’s smile widened. A happy spirit. One of those rare beings who loved the world too much to ever find happiness in the light beyond. “Would you mind speaking with me?”

The ghost shook her head, and clasped her hands neatly in front of her, waiting patiently. Then her eyes widened, staring past Koray’s shoulder, and her silvery cheeks flushed dark.

Koray’s lips quirked faintly in amusement. A ghost smitten with the Paladin. How amusing. “Do you come to this garden often, Paladin?”

“My name is Sorin, you may call me by it, necromancer,” Sorin said calmly. “And yes, I do. It’s my favorite spot.” He paused. “Alfrey favored this garden as well. It’s much more secluded than the public gardens. Most days I think all but the royal gardeners forget about it.”

“There’s a ghost here, a peaceful one.” Koray laughed softly, briefly, as he looked at Sorin as the man drew up beside him. “She seems enamored of you.”

Sorin blinked. “A ghost? Enamored? How is that possible?” He stopped. “Peaceful you say?”

Koray explained, noting the way the ghost shied away, cheeks darker than ever as Sorin drew closer, stopping beside him. “Keep your eye on the wall,” Koray said softly, then drew a small stick of myrrh from the pouch at his waist. Lighting it, he knelt and drove the end into a bit of earth clear of grass. Standing, he addressed the ghost. “Were you buried here, sweet sister?”

The ghost spread her arms wide, indicating the whole of the garden, then pointed to the incense.

“Ah,” Koray said softly in comprehension. “Burned and scattered?”

The ghost nodded.

“That makes things easier,” Koray said, and drew a small dagger. Pulling back the sleeves of his robe and shirt, he drew the dagger across his forearm, wincing at the sharp pain – ignoring Sorin’s demand to know what he was doing – and watched as the blood welled up, began to drip over and down his arm, then turned it so blood splashed on the ground, moving so that he covered various portions of the garden with it.

He looked to the ghost, nodding as she seemed to solidify. Cleaning the dagger and sheathing it, he then drew out a cloth with which to temporarily bind his wound. Dozens of similar marks traced up and down the length of both his forearms.

Next he drew his silver bells, and shook them hard five times. With each shake, the ghost grew more solid, more there and with the fifth ring he knew by Sorin’s gasp that he was not the only one who could see and hear her. Already he could feel the cold seeping through hs body, the tiredness that came with making a ghost visible to others, but some part of him said he should be doing this and so Koray pressed on. “What is your name?”

Bellesandra, my lords. Everyone called me Belle. She curtsied low, peeking shyly at Sorin.

“This garden makes you happy, Belle?” Koray asked.

Yes, my lord. There is no place I love more, though I miss the days my Queen would come and talk with me. I love the flowers, the people – especially the lovers. The garden is happiest when it is able to shelter those who seek it out for such things. Her smile was sweet as she spoke. How can I help you, my lords?

“Tell me, Belle, was there a pair of lovers that came here recently. One a priest, the other a servant girl?”

Belle nodded immediately. They were always so sad, even while they were happy.

Koray looked askance at Sorin, who stared wide-eyed at the silvery woman. He smirked briefly, then returned his attention to Belle. “Was there another who saw them? And did not seem happy about it?”

Belle frowned. Yes…but I could never see who. He was…hidden from me. I know not how. The feel of his magic was foul.

“Black magic,” Sorin hissed, shock fading as his duty reasserted itself. “But how can I not sense it? That such a thing fouls my castle, right before my eyes! Have you anything else to tell us, Mistress Belle?”

Cheeks flushing dark, Belle shook her head. “I do not know, Lord Paladin. Have you other questions?”

“Why did he not tell me?” Sorin asked, speaking more to himself. “I was his friend. I would have done whatever he asked.”

He was going to, I believe. At least, he often talked of doing so. I think he feared disappointing you, for after the woman you were dearest to him.

Sorin nodded, but did appear comforted by the words.

Koray thought. “What else can you tell us of the one you cannot see?”

No warmth emanated from him.

“That makes no sense,” Koray said, a chill racing up his spine.

“What do you mean?”

“All living things radiate ‘warmth’ – she means spiritual energy. Magicians, priests, and you of course, radiate much more than ordinary people. Even those who practice the black arts radiate it. Even demons have spirit…” Koray drifted off, unable to believe where his thoughts were taking him. Surely it was not possible…

“Impossible,” Sorin said. “Surely I would have noticed such a thing as a lack of spirit.”

Koray shrugged. “Who knows? I have never heard of such a thing.” He shook his head. “Thank you, Belle. Have you anything you would like to say?”

Thank you for speaking with me. I am sorry it brings you pain to do so. Happiness to you both. Please do visit the garden, it loves people.

“Our pleasure, Belle. Thank you.” With that, the last of the incense burned away, and with one sharp, jarring ring of his bells, Koray broke the spell and Belle vanished. With a soft groan, he sank to his knees, feeling sick and cold.

A hand landed on his shoulder, then arms wrapped around him. “Are you all right?”

“I will be,” Koray replied. “You need not worry yourself over me.”

Sorin frowned. “Why do you reject my offers of aid? Is it not my duty to help and protect all those in need?”

“Yes,” Koray said, “but after I puzzle out your murder I will be leaving.” Better not to get attached to what he’d never have. In two more days he would be leaving, once more alone, following the wind, with nothing but his robes and flask to keep him warm when what the Paladin had already given him finally was depleted.

“You should rest.”

“There is no time,” Koray snapped. “Belle said the man she sensed but could not see had no warmth. That means he has no spirit. Which means either there is a demon lurking somewhere in your castle or something very strange is going on.” A sudden thought struck him. “Even stranger – when I first arrived, the room in which Alfrey died reeked of necromancy…yet if as Belle says this man lacks spirit…there is no way he could be a necromancer. You cannot be a necromancer without spirit.”

“As you say,” Sorin said grimly. “I will grant that high magic makes people mad at times, but that does not explain this, not in its entirety, I think. We are missing something.” He glared at Koray. “However, we are not doing a thing more about it until you have rested. The matter has held this long, it will hold a little longer. Come, we’ll eat in my quarters.” Grabbing Koray’s hand, giving him no chance to argue, he all but dragged the necromancer from the garden.




The woman in the garden…a ghost…

He would never forget that wonder. What must it be like to see them everywhere…though from the way Koray shuddered, the streaks in his hair, clearly few of the ghosts he saw were like Belle.

It was beyond his imagining, the things Koray must see every single day. What had it been like for him in the dungeon? Even he shuddered to think of all that must have once transpired down there.

Sorin looked up from his glass of brandy to voice a question – and was brought up short to see that Koray had fallen asleep in his chair, head back, hands still curled loosely around his own brandy, which looked as though it had not been touched.

Had calling the ghost forth exhausted him so completely?

He grimaced at the memory of how calmly Koray had sliced open his own arm. He’d seen far worse in battle, in the tents of the healers, but to so calmly see a man cut his own flesh…and there had been more marks than he could count on the pale skin.

More than once he had felt weighted down by the burden laid upon his shoulders. To be Paladin was no small thing – commanding the armies, controlling the power of the Goddess, to know that always people looked to him for guidance, support, strength…but he was not certain he had the strength to be a necromancer.

Sorin pondered all that Koray had told him. No…he could not have been a necromancer.

Pushing his brandy aside, Sorin stood and moved to where Koray sat and slowly eased him from his seat, lifting the slender, far too light frame into his arms and carrying him over to the bed.

The will of the Goddess in him was a quiet, steadying hum. All that he’d done this evening was, in her mind, the right thing to do. He realized it also made him feel more settled, to do all that he had – even if much of it had been arguing with the confounding Koray. Strange, to feel so settled, but he’d learned long ago not to fight such feeling. Sighing softly, Sorin laid him out on the bed. He hesitated a moment, then opened the robes enough to find the clasp on the bulky leather belt Koray wore and slowly, carefully, worked it free. Setting it on the table near the bed, he then pulled his boots off and finally tugged up the blankets. After a last look to make sure the necromancer rested, he returned to the table and his glass of brandy.

He contemplated all that they’d learned of Alfrey’s death, the rage of the goddess flaring, blending with his own.

Someone with no spirit had killed them both. Whoever it was, they were capable of torturing a woman and leaving her to bleed to death.

How had all this happened right beneath him? How had he missed it? Agony tore through him and Sorin abandoned his brandy to bury his face in his hands. How! A woman murdered and he, like everyone else, had simply assumed she’d run away. A dear friend dead. All done by a man with no spirit – something he felt he should have noticed. Surely he would have noticed such a thing – did he not sense demons when they were close by?

But demons had something for him to sense – a sort of twisted opposite of that which humans radiated. If there was nothing there…then clearly there was nothing to sense. Still…wouldn’t the emptiness itself be something?

He was confusing himself.

The point was that these terrible things had happened right in front of him and he had seen none of it. It had taken bringing in a necromancer to learn what he had learned so far.

Almost reflexively Sorin turned to the bed, the black and white hair all that was visible, the rest of the slight man buried in the blankets. He smiled faintly.

It was fascinating, really, the differences between Koray when he was awake and when he slept. Equally fascinating was how hard the man slept – he did not think that a full battle would stir Koray from his sleep.

Just as intriguing was how adamantly Koray refused his help when, as near as Sorin could see, he had full right to call upon it. Certainly he had more right than the countless who asked for his prayers and blessings when a simple priest would have more than sufficed. The way the King constantly summoned him to attend trivial matters…like the missive sent earlier that evening. An utterly trivial matter, yet the King had summoned him to deal with it. Sorin grimaced and took a sip of brandy.

Bells tolled outside, followed by the cheers of his knights, and Sorin chuckled softly. Time for supper. He wished he could return to his regular duties…though…truly he found the thought depressing.

For no longer would he see Alfrey in the afternoons – sometimes in the garden, other times behind the cathedral, occasionally for a ride through the countryside. His friend was dead, something he’d been struggling to keep in the back of his mind so that he could focus on finding the killer.

No doubt discovering the killer would also cause a great many problems.

…And with the solving of the mystery, Koray would depart. He had said as much. There was no reason for him to stay. Why did that thought upset him? He could not even blame it on the Goddess – though Her power obviously flared with satisfaction at the thought of Koray remaining, his own feelings on the matter were quite separate.

He wanted the thorny necromancer to stay. Why?

Sorin was spared having to discover the answer by the stirring of the object of his thoughts.

“What? Koray asked sleepily, sitting up in a tangle of robes and blankets. He glowered as he figured out where he was. “Why did you not wake me? Why am I here?” Scrambling from the bed as though it were on fire, Koray tugged his boots on and slid his belt back into place, fingers straying to his messy hair as he stalked over to the table.

“You looked as though you could use the rest,” Sorin said, taking a sip of brandy to hide his smile.

“We have more important things to do,” Koray snapped, his thorns coming out in force, those dark grey eyes flashing.

Sorin sighed and set his glass down. “As I said before, necromancer, if the matter has kept this long it will keep a little longer. It is not as though we know what to do…unless necromancers have spells for finding a man that even ghosts, apparently, cannot see. Such spells are not among a Paladin’s repertoire, and it seems I cannot sense a lack of spirit.” He tried to keep the bitterness at himself out of his voice, but could tell from Koray’s brief glance that he had failed.

Koray moved to his seat and cross his arms over his chest – but a moment later fingers strayed to his hair, and he began to twist and tug it as he thought. The habit was…oddly endearing. Sorin was taken aback by the thought. Surely…surely he was not growing fond of the thorny necromancer?

Yet the way his own thoughts settled, and the faintest twinge from the Goddess, told him that his realization was an accurate one.

“My magic searches out the dead,” Koray said, interrupting his thoughts, blessedly distracting him. “I cannot find the living, and even if I could his magic sounds too powerful to be threatened by my meager efforts.” He sighed. “If I am lucky, eventually I will come to the place where Alfrey’s ghost is hidden – but again, that seems unlikely. I have never encountered magic that could steal a ghost like a necromancer, hide from prying eyes like a sorcerer, and emit no warmth! He should not even be able to live with spirit. I do not see how it is possible for him to do have done all that he has.”

“It is also magic that I have not sensed, and were it true black magic – which surely it must be – I would have. Truly it seems to be magic gone afoul.”

“Hmm…” Koray began to tug hard on his hair again. “Perhaps there is a way….” He stood up and opened a pouch, pulling out a crystal that looked like frozen smoke. “Better to try and fail than do nothing, I suppose.”

Sorin stood up and moved around the table, eyeing Koray and the crystal glittering on a silver chain. He carefully rested a hand on Koray’s shoulder. “Are you certain you’re rested enough?”

Koray stiffened beneath his hand, though Sorin was coming to realize it was from surprise, not anger. “I’m fine,” he said shortly. He stepped away and stood in the middle of the room, staring thoughtfully at the smoky crystal fastened to a silver chain lying still in his hand.

“What are you going to try?”

“Remember the village I told you about? The one with the girl?”

“Yes…”

Koray didn’t look up from the crystal, eyes paling as he began to fall into the trance of spell casting. His voice leveled out as he spoke, taking on the rhythms that would eventually turn into gentle chanting. “It was large, and so poisoned with her misery and anger that I could not pinpoint where she was. Ghosts don’t necessarily appear as Belle did – sometimes they are simply energy…a presence. To locate the source of the rage – where she had died – I had to use this crystal. To follow Alfrey’s trail, I used a clear crystal – because I was looking for things connected specifically to him. A dark crystal is more general. I use it to pinpoint ghosts that try to hide from me, or like the girl from the village, have spread themselves out too much for me to communicate clearly.”

“So…you are going to use this crystal to find the killer? How?”

“General searches like this search out where things are ‘coldest’ – where there is a creature who would badly like to take my energy. Ghosts constantly sap the strength of those around them, if those people do not know – instinctively or by way of instruction – how to block them. In a castle like this, people have instinctively learned to block them, but still the ghosts and their unhappiness weigh people down. I…it is for ghosts, so I do not know if it will work, but if I spell it to look for where there is the greatest lack of spirit, rather than a strong ghost perhaps it will light on the person who has no spirit. I promise nothing.”

Sorin nodded. “Of course. You are proving far more useful than I, necromancer, whether you fail or succeed. If it does not work, we shall simply think of something else. I feel, Koray, that I owe you a great deal more than food, a few robes, and a night in my rude company.”

Koray turned to look at him, gray eyes darker than Sorin could recall seeing them – he had already noticed that when Koray did magic, they turned as pale as mist, and flashed silver. “You need not worry about payment, Paladin. Already you’ve done more than anyone ever has.” He started to say something more, but shook his head and went back to his crystal. “Now, do not break my concentration.”

Sorin nodded, let the matter drop, but vowed silently to resume it later. He watched, endlessly fascinated by magic so unlike his own, as Koray began to spell the crystal, chanting words Sorin couldn’t understand, words that sent a shiver down his spine, watching the way Koray’s eyes faded to the color of mist and flashed pure silver as he finished.

“We go,” Koray said softly, eyes distant, unfocused, as he fell into the spell of the crystal which had begun to swing gently from its silver chain. Double checking his armor and sword, the thrumming of his power telling him this was correct and he would shortly need both, Sorin followed Koray into the hallway, motioning all and sundry out of their way as Koray continued walking along in his trance-like state.

Slowly they made their way through the halls, traveling down to the main level, and with a sinking feeling Sorin realized they were headed for the main dining hall. That meant it could be one of any number of people, and he would have to face them amidst a crowd of people.

Sorin loosed his sword in its sheath as they entered the dining hall, ignoring all those who called to him, the curious glances as they realized he was following behind Koray. His skin prickled with barely restrained power. The Goddess sensed something…yet she never had before. Why? He looked at the man before him. Perhaps the necromancer made all the difference.

As they crossed the room, ignoring the long tables on either side, Sorin felt a sick feeling settle in his gut. They were headed for the main table. As they approached it, the conversation between the King and a handful of his advisors and closest friends slowly halted.

Koray moving unerringly toward the table and halted directly in front of the King, his dark crystal swinging wildly. Sorin’s feeling of dread grew. The King’s rusty brown eyes watched them with barely-repressed rage. “Paladin,” he said, voice cutting like a knife, “what is the meaning of this?”

Sorin ignored him for the moment, reaching out to catch Koray, who stumbled as his spell trance finally halted. Koray gasped to see where he was, for even disoriented it was impossible to miss what he’d just done. Sorin wrapped an arm around his waist and drew the necromancer back, out of harm’s way.

Movement caught the corner of his vision, and Sorin turned slightly to see the High Priest standing. “Sorin?”

“High Priest,” Sorin replied. “Please confirm that I am in no way bespelled or otherwise affected.”

“You are clean, Holy Paladin, strong arm of the Goddess,” the High Priest promptly replied, something spurring him to fall into formality. “By Her name and power, I pronounce you free of all enchantment.”

Sorin bowed. “I thank you, High Priest.” He turned to address the crowded room, voice booming out. “Three days ago the Priest Alfrey was brutally murdered. We could not solve the mystery. As a last effort, we bid a necromancer come and speak with the ghost we hoped yet remained of our murdered brother.” He pitched his voice higher as cries and chatter broke out, drowning the room in a cacophony of noise. “The necromancer has said that a man with no spirit, a man who can use necromancy and sorcery, has killed our brother and stolen his ghost.”

Something in his voice silenced the room – or perhaps his words were too much for them to understand. Feeling sick, hating every bit of this, wishing he was anywhere else – but unable to deny the fury of the Goddess that bid him do this – Sorin turned back to the King.

“King Rofell,” he said levelly, “the necromancer has identified you as lacking a spirit. Why?”

“What absurdity is this?” Rofell demanded, voice striking like a whip. “Paladin, you’re out of line. Have you been spelled by that foul blood drinker?” He laughed contemptuously. “No spirit! If that were true, I would be dead.”

“No,” Koray said softly. “Apparently not, for you are very much alive. I would know how. I would also know why you have done the things you’ve done.”

Rofell sneered. “I will have both your heads for this, Paladin.”

“Wrong,” Sorin said. “Koray, are you certain?” He knew the answer, but he had to ask.

“Yes,” Koray said. “There is nothing in him. When I first arrived, his eyes bothered me. They seemed wrong. Now I know why – there is no warmth behind them.”

Rofell stood up, hands braced on the table. Around him nobles and courtiers tripped over each other to get away from the bloodshed that was about to take place. “This is your last warning, Paladin. Why have you let the necromancer lead you astray?”

“The only one who has been led astray, King, is you.” Sorin forced the words, still finding it hard to believe that Rofell was the murderer. He was not especially fond of Rofell, for the man was lazy, given to anger, but he had not thought…

“I order you to cease this at once, Paladin!” Rofell slammed his fist on the table.

Sorin held his sword high, the blue jewel of the Goddess within shining bright as he loosed his power, the power of his Goddess. “You do not command me, King, unless the Goddess wills it.” The stone burned bright blue, and his power flared hot enough to make him sweat. “Rofell, I command you to Speak. Did you murder Alfrey, Priest of the Goddess?”

Rofell’s face twisted into an ugly scowl, turning red, then purple, with his effort to resist Sorin’s power.

“Speak!” Sorin roared, and Rofell collapsed, barely catching himself on the table, as the power of the Goddess forced his submission. Around him everyone but the High Priest fled, desperate to be anywhere but close to the King. “Did you kill Alfrey?”

“Yes,” Rofell gasped out.

“Why?” Sorin asked coldly, barely noticing the noise that erupted around him.

The expression on Rofell’s face was hideous, awful, so contorted that Sorin was kept from recoiling only by the power that moved through him. “Because he would not listen to me. Because of that slut peasant. I am King! A million times better than that whore.”

“What strange magic do you use?” Koray asked.

When Rofell did not speak, Sorin once more loosed his power. “Speak!”

“Southern magic,” Rofell gasped out.

Koray hissed in surprise. “Alchemy. You have mastered the art of alchemy. How? No one here knows it. More, that does not explain the lack of spirit.”

“Speak,” Sorin commanded.

Rofell laughed, something like triumph further twisting his foul features, putting a strange, sick light in his rust-brown eyes. “On the hunting trip…I met a demon who had slipped past the barrier. We made a bargain.”

The power in Sorin recoiled, sparked, and he almost felt nauseous with the waves of the Goddess’ anger. “Where is the ghost of Alfrey?” When Rofell resisted, he climbed the steps of the dais and grabbed the former King roughly by the scruff of his shirt. “Tell me!” he said, power pouring off him, making Rofell writhe in pain.

“All right!” Rofell shouted, gasping for breath. Around his neck was heavy ruby amulet set in gold. Rofell wrapped his fingers around it. Sorin knocked his hand away and yanked it from his neck, then tossed it to Koray.

Koray gasped and nearly dropped it. “This is it. But I’ve never seen such a thing…is this alchemy? To trap a spirit so in a stone? I could not sense it until I touched it…”

“Yes,” Rofell said smugly, though the effort cost him. “You’ll never get him out. Even if you commanded me to tell you, none of you would be capable, and you cannot make me do things, Paladin.”

“Enough,” Sorin said, and hit Rofell hard with the pommel of his sword, knocking him out. He turned to signal to two of his men, Captains, men he trusted. “Take him away. To the old dungeon. Put him in the furthest cell. Chain him. Leave him in darkness. Lock the cell, lock the main door, bring the keys to me. Am I understood?”

“Sir!” The knights saluted and moved to obey, driven to action by their Paladin despite their pale faces, the fact that it was their king they were dragging away.

Sorin abruptly sat down on the dais, exhaustion hitting him as the power of the goddess eased, calmed. Perhaps his spirit was not sapped as Koray’s was, but being the arm of the Goddess was no less taxing when She wanted something done. Wearily he listened as the High Priest stepped forward, began to take over, commanding and guiding the stunned people, leading them. Slowly, bit by bit, the room emptied. A hand settled on his shoulder. “Sorin. Are you all right?’

“As well as I can be after dethroning a King and arresting him for murder,” Sorin said tiredly. “What is there left to do?”

The High Priest sighed. “Much, starting tomorrow, but all you need do tonight is draft a missive to Prince Cerant. I will have a priest waiting to take it when you are finished, merely send it to the church.”

Sorin nodded. “Thank you.”

“It is we who should thank you, Holy Paladin, for bearing a burden no man should have to bear.” The High Priest bowed to him, eyes flicking briefly to Koray, then he turned and walked quietly from the empty dining hall.

Sighing, rubbing his face to fight exhaustion, Sorin sat pensively on the cold stone steps of the dais.

His King was a murderer. His Kingdom was without a King. His friend was dead because of petty jealousy and a lust for power. His spirit trapped in a jewel. “You cannot free Alfrey’s spirit?” he finally asked, looking up at Koray.

Koray frowned and looked at the dark ruby still held tightly in his hands. “I cannot. The King was right – it would take another alchemist.”

“What is this alchemy you speak of?”

“Magic of the south. I know not how it works, except that a man with very little spirit can cast spells like a sorcerer – or so the rumors go. I have never met an alchemist, so I cannot say for certain. We shall have to find one, if we hope to free Alfrey’s ghost.”

Sorin sighed, weighed down by all that he must now do, the problems that must still be resolved.

“You look more tired than I,” Koray said softly, “and you are hot as I am usually cold.”

His worries over the Kingdom faded as he took in Koray’s words, and he held out a hand to beckon the man closer. “Are you well? Did searching him out take too much from you?”

Koray shook his head, strange hair cascading over his shoulders. “No. A searching spell is minor.”

Sighing, Sorin closed the space between them, immediately covering Koray’s ice-cold hand with his own much warmer – he must still be hot to the touch, so much power had flowed through him.

In fact, it troubled him how much power he’d had to use to force the confession from Rofell.

His friend was dead. His King a murderer, a betrayer of his trust, of the Goddess’. Unconsciously his hand tightened on Koray’s.

“So many questions still unanswered…” Koray said. “I have caused more problems than I solved.” His mouth twisted in a grimace.

Sorin shook his head and slowly released his grip to grasp Koray’s face, force it up. “Nay, necromancer. You have probably saved many lives. A King who would act so is not fit to rule. We will have word sent to Cerant, the King’s brother. He was always a good man. All will be well, you will see.”

Koray merely looked at him, gray eyes still pale, and this close Sorin was startled to see that there were flecks of green in them. In Koray’s face he saw disbelief, distrust, but also hope. But hope of what?

He gave up denying what he had realized earlier – that something in him was drawn to the strange, thorny necromancer. Something in him eased every time he touched Koray. He didn’t know why. Slowly he slid his hands away. “Koray…what are you planning to do now?”

“I…my work is done…I suppose I had best be on my way. No doubt my face will not be a welcome one here in the castle.” A bitter laugh, and Sorin wanted to hear a genuine one, like those he had tricked from him earlier.

“Stay,” he said softly, heart racing. “I…I do not want you to go, necromancer…Koray. If nothing else, stay until we free Alfrey. Perhaps we may even need you then, yes? To speak to his ghost?”

Koray looked at him, gray eyes dark with confusion, suspicion…but still there was hope, and Sorin could only hope that perhaps he was not the only one feeling horribly confused by all this. “You want me to stay?” Koray finally managed, and Sorin hated the suspicion in his voice even as he understood why it was there.

Then he lit on something, and smiled. “Did you not demand a night in my company?”

“Yes…”

“Then come and spend it, Koray, and in the morning decide if you will stay or go.”

Koray slowly nodded. “Very well.”

Comments

[(Anonymous)]

Ooh.. this gave me the shivers! So good! -Like almost everything else you write ;)
Thank you so much for sharing this. Though I'm only a lurker, and already addicted to your other projects I heartily request more thorny-necromancer/confused-paladin love!

[maderr.livejournal.com]

You should de-lurk more often ^__^

I will endeavor to provide more ^_~

Thank you for reading!

[kiyoshi-chan.livejournal.com]

*coos at them* ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥!

[maderr.livejournal.com]

*loves you*

[obsessed-futago.livejournal.com]

Ooooh, love your little stories. I keep checking your site, but I don't see any updates...(droops) You could update with this stuff...?

[maderr.livejournal.com]

I've actually been trying to update my website. For whatever reason, it won't let me and intehost, where I buy my space, is so far ignoring my pleas for help. I apologize profusely for letting it fall so far behind ^^;;

[starparty.livejournal.com]

Purrrrr... This was lovely. And so much room for more stories <3 <3

*_______________________________________*

[skylark97.livejournal.com]

Oh, how I love Koray, let me count the ways... XD He was just so...guh. ;____; All bitter and hopeful and lonely and just...guh. ;_____________;

I love how you uncovered slowly over the story how important necromancers are and how they're as holy as any priest or paladin, even if anyone knows it. And I love how Sorin cares almost in spite of himself in the beginning and I really like that he knew when to admit that he was wrong and then work to right those wrongs. I loved his exasperation with Koray too, and I love that Koray didn't exactly make it easy for him. XD

Just gorgeous characters. *tackle glomps*

*takes a page out of Ki's book and coos at them too*

You rock the universe. *hearts*

Re: *_______________________________________*

[maderr.livejournal.com]

You get on me for torturing my chars, but you sure seem to like the ones who suffer the most... XD XD XD

Yeah, that 'slowly' was killing me. Me and slow do not good partners make. ^_^

Thankee, Sky <3

[mailechan.livejournal.com]

You know what I like best about your stories? They have such great detail. I love your explanations of how necromancy works, and how closely it's related to priesthood and paladins. Something that so many seem to forget, or want to forget.

I loved how Sorin and the high priest were completely ignorant, and how Sorin didn't like it at all. And I love how alchemy works its way into it.

And from how the story was told, was it me, or did the king sell his soul to the demon for the secret of alchemy? And is it just me, or was the king after the priest, not the peasant girl?

[maderr.livejournal.com]

I'm always suprrised to hear my detail is great, since often I'm yelled at for leaving detail out ^^;;

Alchemy is my sekkret love.

Uh...your right on all counts. I guess that wasn't clear either. *makes note*

[melayneseahawk.livejournal.com]

Ooh, I like. Lots and lots.

[maderr.livejournal.com]

^_^ Thankee.

[mechante-fille.livejournal.com]

I am amazed that this wonderful story came out of your brain. No, that sounded wrong... I'm amazed that it came out of anyone's brain, and am sorely tempted to crawl inside and poke around, esp. when you claim to not like it. --yeah, this is just not getting any less creepy, is it. Sorry 'bout that... But the whole concept of the necromancer and all the misconceptions that people have that are based on real things, but twisted... such cleverness. And the whole mystery was... well, mysterious. I suspected the King, but only 'cause Koray did, all along, just below the surface.

I like how they complement one another. *sigh* I admit that my thoughts stray to wondering what the Goddess would get up to if they were to consummate their relationship. Heh.

Looking forward to parts 2 and beyond!

Oh, and Sandstorm? The extra wait hurts good. ...yeah, that was probably oversharing... *shakes head* I should just go now...

More oversharing...

[mechante-fille.livejournal.com]

I've carried this story with me all day. Or really, I think, it carried me. Here's a bit of where it brought me:

Koray rocked back on his heels, nearly overwhelmed by the heat that coursed through him. 'Oh,' he thought, 'that's better than holy water. I'll have to start bottling this, instead.'

^_^ Just meant to be fun. *loves on the fic more*

[theotherdigit.livejournal.com]

Ah, the misunderstandings that making assumptions and not listening properly can cause. [prods at both Koray and Sorin] Though it is understandable why they made said assumptions, and though the story would probably be much less fun if they became the best of friends right from the very beginning. ;P As always, you think up the best characters and storylines. <333 [loveses muchly]

P.S. Koray needs lots and lots of hugs. And kisses. Preferably from Sorin.

[maderr.livejournal.com]

Misunderstandings are fun to write, even if I do feel like beating the chars upside the head at the same time. Thankee ^_^ I tend to think my stories are overly simple, but if they work, I have no complaints <3

P.S. He will get them ^_~ From Sorin.

[vspirit.livejournal.com]

oh...i missed this one. love it to itty-bitty pieces. oh and this part confused me:

He should not even be able to live with spirit.

it's sorta conflicting with your premise about spirit and its importance to both the living and the dead...wasn't sure what to make of it...

[maderr.livejournal.com]

Heh, oops. That should be 'without'. Thank you for pointing that out ^^;;

[vera-dicere.livejournal.com]

have you ever read the abhorsen series by garth nix? because some of your necromancer's qualities remind me of those books. i'd definitely recommend them if you haven't already read them.

and yay for koray and sorin! i really love the way you develope your characters- they're just always so endearing. can't wait to see more! :)

[maderr.livejournal.com]

Abhorsen *_* I bet I ripped off it though I haven't read it for months. I adore that series.

Thankee ^___^

[hoi-yah.livejournal.com]

oooo, I love this story! Koray is just the kind of character I love to read about, prickly and misunderstood! I definitely think that this has the potential for more story. I need more Koray and Sorin!

Keep up the good work!

[riseka.livejournal.com]

*Pets pets pets.* This is SO COOL!!!

Poor Koray *wibbles*

This is love. Would like to see them get together.

And not to jump tracks massively, but Sandstorm please. *Hopeful look* Pwease?

[maderr.livejournal.com]

^__^ Thankee.

Yes, but he's cute when he's all wibble-inducing.

They will be ^_^

Working on it! *salutes*

[tsaiko.livejournal.com]

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! I was almost late for work trying to finish reading the first part and now I finally get to read the rest. I love this. Poor Koray. You're explanation for what was going on is great. Somehow I figured it had to be the King, though I didn't know how or why. *does the happy dance*

[maderr.livejournal.com]

Those explanations induced many a headache, so happy to hear I did'nt botch them ^__^

Of course, all this does is make me want witchking! Witchking, woman!!!

Dude, if it's not the butler, it's the king. Agatha Christy, I am not.

[scribewraith.livejournal.com]

Wow, as usual, I loved this hard. The characters are fantastic and sweet and lovely. I love the whole plot with the necromancy and I really want more *grin*

Thank you!

[maderr.livejournal.com]

Thankee ^__^ There will be more, I've already got a start on story two.

[stardance.livejournal.com]

This was amazing. I had shivers, too. I think this would be a good one to attempt publishment with :D *makes up words*

I loooooved the imagery. I don't think I've stopped sweating once since I got here (except in the Korean building, which is air-conditioned) but Koray made me feel cold.

And Sorin was sooo sweet. I love his suspicions at the beginning, and the way he reacted when he realized he was wrong. He was a very bright, genuine person and everything a Paladin should be <3 I think Apollo would be a Paladin in a fantasy setting.

I can't wait to see what happens with finding the alchemist <3 And I loooooved how this story ended. I hope they show up again as a more established couple? :DDD

[maderr.livejournal.com]

Heh. I'm jealous of your heat. I love tropical weather.

I shall keep it under consideration for publishment ^_~ You're not the first to suggest that.

I <3 my Paladin, even if he's a little dense.

Apollo would be suited to Paladin. Iiiinteresting.

They will show up again ^_^ And more established, yes.

Thanks, Star!

Oh, yeah -- how's your brother? No doubt chained up in his room.

[miikarin.livejournal.com]

Uwaaaah! *squeals*

To stay or not to stay? After a night? I'd vote for staying!

There's more to this, right? right?

[nepenth.livejournal.com]

omg Squeee~ LOVED LOVED LOVED.
koray was grumpily wonderful and the descriptions. must fight urge to draw. the paladin was lovely.
not sure if you wrote it one purpose but koray's words always came off as cool and sorin as hot tempered and warm. lovely touch.
the last scene was awesome, dramatic and so good. ::goes off to read it again:: ^___________^

[captainschlumpy.livejournal.com]

and they lived happily ever after smexing like bunnies the whole time! Well, at least in my mind :)
I liked this a lot. Only you could make a necromancer endearing and huggable.

[phoenix-rinna.livejournal.com]

Oh right, and did I mention that I am REALLY glad people convinced you to post this? Because I AM. Very VERY much so.

This has some unresolved things, but could almost stand on its own. I can't really see why you disliked it so much, though I can sort of (possibly?) see in whazt way it might have gotten away from you, so to speak. I just don't think that is necessarily a bad thing.

Anyway, I've just spent most of today (and a good chunk of yesterday), being absorbed by your stories ^^; I was even good and did a bunch of comments! My first day of classes is tomorrow, though, so I may go back to lurking for a bit. Which is sort of irrelevant, but when I actually get around to talking, I can't seem to stop terribly fast.

[charisstoma.livejournal.com]

I don't suppose that Sorin and Koray could wander around together righting wrongs on living and dead people levels. Koray with his take along fireplace/Sorin to keep him warm and cuddly. Paladins don't have to remain in the same local as the King of their country do they?

[twilight-angel.livejournal.com]

Awesomeness. I'm so glad certain people convinced you to post this. And there's to be more? YES!

[fierydragonsky.livejournal.com]

Is this completed now, or still "To Be Continued"?

[emthornhill.livejournal.com]

Damn, I might call off tuesday.

*wicked child*

Damn maderr, you are good!

[flingsalt.livejournal.com]

You just turned me in to mush... Absolute mush!! I love this story, and I especially love Koray so extremely much!!! I´ve always had a softspot for bitter, angry, abused people who starts realizing that everybody in the world doesn't hate them. I've been going around smiling like an idiot all day because of this story!!
I don't mean to be pushy, but will you be writing the last part of this trilogy soon? Because I desperately want to find out what happens (especially with Sorin and Koray)