Black Magic (8 page)

"Good day, Koray," Sorin greeted. "How are you?"

"The same as I was when you asked me a few marks ago," Koray said. "Thank you for the clothes."

Sorin grinned. "That's the third time you've told me thank you, necromancer. Perhaps you have manners after all."

"A pity I cannot say the same for your wits," Koray retorted. "I believe there is a matter that begs resolving, High Paladin. Shall we?"

"We shall," Sorin said and led the way from the yard without bothering to bid his men farewell. "I'm glad the clothes suit," he said as they walked. "Is there anything lacking?"

Koray shook his head. "No, and I will try to return them in equal state when I leave."

"Whether you stay or go, the clothes are yours," Sorin said, irritated for a reason he could not name.

Koray said nothing, but Sorin could practically hear the argument anyway. He ignored it, irritation overcome by grief as they reached the room where he had found Alfrey's body. Stopping in front of it, he cautioned, "It is a gruesome sight, so brace yourself."

"I've seen worse than viciously dismembered bodies," Koray said. "Open the door."

Sorin did not know what to say to that, and so obeyed in silence, pressing his hand to the door and stripping the seal he had placed upon it. Immediately, the rank stench of death poured through it, and Sorin pressed his sleeve to his mouth to curb the worst of it as he threw open the door.

Koray slid past him into the room and looked around as though ensuring the servants had arranged all to his liking. But when he finally turned back to Sorin, the look on his face was one of—Sorin would have said fear, but he was fairly certain Koray did not know fear. "There's no ghost."

"What do you mean?" Sorin asked.

"Murder, especially one as brutal as this, always leaves a ghost. There is no exception. But the ghost is not here—someone removed it."

Sorin frowned. "What do you mean, removed it? How do you remove a ghost?"

"You don't!" Koray said, sounding frantic—dangerously close to panicked. "The only one who can properly banish a ghost and purify the space is a necromancer. To remove it without purification … that can only be done by a demon." He looked at Sorin with haunted eyes, and Sorin realized he'd been wrong about Koray and fear. It was not that Koray had no fear—it was that he had seldom known anything else. "Someone in this castle is using black magic and slipping closer and closer to becoming a demon."

Terror clouded Sorin's mind as the ramifications of a demon traipsing undetected through the castle ran through him. "Please tell me you're mistaken."

"I wish," Koray said bitterly. "But the ghost is gone. That means black magic, which always means demons."

"Goddess grant us mercy," Sorin whispered. "How could such a person be in our midst with everyone, even me and the High Priest, unaware?"

"It's because you're not looking for a demon, not yet," Koray said. "It is merely someone who can use black magic. A … demon novice, you could say. Have you never encountered one?"

Sorin grimaced. "I have, in a small village some days south of here, close to the border with Navath. Children too far gone to be saved, though we tried anyway. It was—still is—a nightmare."

Koray nodded, but did not say anything, for which Sorin was grateful. "We are looking for someone like that. They are not yet strong enough in power to stand out. Whoever it is knew that leaving the ghost would mean leaving a way to identify him, so it is someone familiar enough with necromancers to know the threat we posed to him. So it's someone smart enough to know how to hide."

"Marvelous," Sorin said with a sigh. "I have no idea what to say to the castle inhabitants. I guess we'll leave it alone for now, though Alfrey's absence will have been noticed." He sighed again. "We need to go speak with the high priest. He will know how to search out such magic."

"Will he?" Koray asked. "Why bring me here at all if I was never going to be of use?"

"I don't know," Sorin replied. "But I am used to not knowing where the Goddess is concerned. We can only move forward and wait for Her to guide which way to turn next."

Koray said nothing, only grimaced and led the way from the room. Sorin sealed the room again, silently sending apologies and prayers to poor Alfrey, who no doubt waited somewhere cold and miserable until he could at last move on to the Goddess' Hearth. He stepped back and made to head back down the hall when Koray stepped forward and added a seal of his own. "Smart," Sorin said. "One seal might be overcome, but not both of them—not easily, anyway. Merciful Goddess, I hope we find the culprit soon."

"We need the motive," Koray said.

"We need to discuss this somewhere else," Sorin replied. "Come on, to the high priest we go."

They were halfway there when panic and anguish filled Sorin's chest, a pulsing, pounding pain that made him wince and falter.

Koray frowned at him. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know, but it's much worse than Alfrey," Sorin said—ran.

His heart dropped into his throat as the Goddess guided him into the royal cathedral. Slamming through the doors, chest pulsing so hard it was hot, Sorin bolted through the Sanctuary, through the doors in the back—

And burst into the High Priest's office to find him dead on the floor, his throat so deeply cut his head was only barely still attached. Angelos. "No!" Sorin said and suddenly found it hard to breathe. Alfrey. Angelo. He couldn't—what in the name of the Goddess—

He jerked in surprise when a cool hand took his, whipped around—and froze, breath bursting out of him as he took in Koray. "He's dead."

Koray stared up at him, beautiful, haunting. The cool touch of his hand slowly permeated the haze of heat and grief that had threatened to overwhelm Sorin. "I'm sorry," Koray finally said.

Sorin shook his head. "His ghost?" he asked quietly.

"Not here," Koray replied, voice just as soft and somber. "He must have known something, or was going to learn something soon. Come, we should see who has come and gone."

"I must go tell the king," Sorin said dully. "We will have to tell the castle … everyone. Angelos, Alfrey … why would anyone want such good men dead?"

Koray's mouth twisted. "Good men pose the biggest threat to those guilty of black deeds."

Sorin closed his eyes, drew several deep breaths, then opened them again and went to do his duty.

Koray stared out at the rain that was turning the ward into a lake. Something was obviously not draining correctly, but the rain was coming down too hard and cold for anyone to be able to go out to locate and fix the problem. Letting the tapestry fall back into place, he returned to the table where his books and a pitcher of mulled wine patiently waited for him to get back to work. The constant draft weaving through the castle made the fire and his candles flicker as Koray once more took his seat.

Two sentences into the tome he was studying, however, his mind started to wander again. Koray leaned back with a sigh and stared at the ceiling in frustration. He was supposed to be figuring out how to identify someone practicing demon magic, but all he could think about was Sorin.

His head throbbed and he rubbed at his temples, feeling as though he were going to go mad from the frustration. The Goddess was pointing him to
something
, but he could not pinpoint what. He had crawled all over the castle and come up with nothing. The closest he had managed was the royal library, to which Sorin had easily granted him access.

Sorin …

Koray sighed softly, eyes falling from the ceiling to look around his bedroom. It was more than he had ever owned in his life—and 'own' was over-generous, but until he left he supposed it was more or less his. A bed that was the most comfortable thing he had ever felt in his life, a fireplace, a chest, a wardrobe; someone had installed shelves a few days ago that he might be able to safely store his books. The room was cleaned regularly, as were the clothes that seemed to rapidly increase in quantity.

It was all quite disconcerting, but not nearly as disconcerting as the way everyone had started taking to calling him 'High Necromancer'. Koray had made his opinion of
that
quite clear, but Sorin had been frustratingly stubborn about it, the infuriating bastard. Koray scowled at his gleaming metal cup, then picked it up and drained the contents. The wine was sweet, fragrant, and sharp with mulling spices, warm in his gut.

Unfortunately, it did nothing to banish thoughts of Sorin. Koray refilled his cup and stared broodingly at his book, letting his thoughts do as they wanted so that maybe his mind would tire itself out and he could go back to doing what he should.

Thunder cracked, and he could see lightning even with the thick tapestry in place. The time of year was wrong for thunderstorms, and they had continued relentlessly for three days thus far. Koray could only take it as an ill omen and wonder morosely what it foretold.

He drank more of his wine, then tried yet again to focus on his book. The letters were faded, hard to read—and some of them he hated to admit he could
not
read. Necromancers were trained as best could be managed, but Koray had been nothing, but another waif on the streets until a passing necromancer realized what he really was and had taken him in. He'd been … ten or so, by the best guess of Tomane, the man who had found and trained him.

It was rather late to begin a boy in learning to read, and Koray rarely had time to improve the skill—and he certainly never had books with which to practice. But he would be damned if he asked anyone for help. If he had to hide away the primers he'd stumbled across, then so be it.

Sighing when he realized he had lost the thread of the book
again
, Koray started reading it out loud to force himself to get on with it. Someone, somewhere in history had to have encountered stolen ghosts and men hiding their steadily growing demonic powers. All he had to do was find the record of it.

He had just managed to get through the boring introduction chapter when his door quietly opened and Sorin's dark, sad eyes sought and found him. Closing the door behind him, Sorin gestured for Koray to join him.

"What's wrong?" Koray asked.

"A messenger just arrived from a little farm about a day and a half's ride from here," Sorin said. "Everyone on the farm is dead, sucked dry by demons. The place is … well, I'm sure I do not need to describe to you what a demon can do. I am sending men out to take care of the matter. I would go myself, but …"

Koray shook his head. "You should not leave the castle. But I take it you want me to go?"

"To purify the place, as you say," Sorin said, offering a weak, crooked smile. Though three weeks had passed since they had buried Alfrey and Angelos, Sorin still seemed lost in guilt. "If you do not mind, that is. I promise that the men I am sending will behave. Even those who did assault you, and might have again, have lost all ill will with the death of Angelos."

Snorting in reluctant amusement, Koray went to fetch his weapons and staff as well as a cloak suitable for the foul weather. "My Lord High Paladin, this is the first time anyone has ever asked me to purify something. I assure you I do not mind doing my job any more than you mind doing yours."

"Thank you," Sorin said, then added with a ghost of a smirk, "My Lord High Necromancer."

Koray swatted him with his staff as he walked past him, refusing to smile at the way that had elicited a laugh from Sorin.

Down in the ward, Koray joined the cluster of men waiting for him. He nodded to them before reluctantly mounting the horse a stable hand brought to him. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Sorin standing on the steps of the keep. Koray nodded at him, resisting a stupid impulse to wave—scowling when Sorin waved.

He followed the paladins out of the ward, through the gates, and out into the night, riding as hard as they dared in the dark and inclement weather. The horse he road was nothing like the terrifying monster with which he had been forced to learn riding, a horse that had thrown him so many times Koray wondered that he was still alive. After that long bought of misery, he had threatened to leave necromancy behind forever if he was put on a horse one more time. It was not as though there was much point to the lessons, anyway; necromancers could hardly afford to keep horses.

They rode until it grew too dark to travel and bedded down in the creaky, musty barn of a tired farmer. Koray tried to sleep, but every time he closed his eyes he just saw Sorin's haunted face and poor Angelos spread across his own desk with his head only barely attached to his body.

He wished he had known the High Priest longer, or at least had been able to thank the man for healing him, for giving him clothes. Whatever he had expected of the royal castle … well, he had gotten the beating he expected, but the unexpected kindnesses far exceeded that one horrible moment.

Then there was Sorin, who just left him feeling lost and yearning for something he could not—dared not—name.

Would Sorin be all right alone in the castle? The Goddess had not named a new high priest, which had not helped lift the clouds of fear and sorrow hanging over everyone. The king … Koray sneered, thinking of the oaf to whom he had been introduced shortly before the funeral for Angelos and Alfrey. Rofell was exactly what Koray had expected to encounter at the royal palace. The bastard seemed not to care at all about the tragedies inflicted upon his people, his home. Did not care that Sorin carried too much of the weight of the place—weight that would break him if someone did not step forward and help him.

The castle needed a new high priest. It also needed a new king—or, more accurately, an old king. Even Koray knew the tales of the crown prince who had been exiled, though no one was ever able to say
why
he had been exiled. But the whole kingdom had felt it when Prince Cerant left forever.

Sounds of movement drew him from his thoughts, and Koray watched as one of the paladins left the barn. Following a sudden, strong impulse in his head, Koray climbed to his feet and slipped from the barn.