The rats had developed some great ways to pass on information. She knew the rats could sense each other, sometimes across vast distances. What she hadn’t known until they’d explained it was that they could conceal their presences from each other if they wanted to. By quickly concealing or revealing their presence, a rat could serve as a sort of beacon to the others. The most sensitive amongst them could detect these sorts of fluctuations across great distances, even between different towns or cities. The rats had thus devised a code of sorts, not unlike the smoke or light signals used by many armies throughout the world.
Katie had brought the idea to her master, but he’d pointed out that necromancers already had access to a similar technique. Necromancers were mentally connected to all of their zombies, which effectively connected all of their zombies to each other. It was the reason more intelligent or powerful zombies could be given command over weaker, less intelligent ones. Depending on the skill and power a necromancer had, this connection could span incredible distances. Moreover, a skilled and powerful necromancer could create zombies with a greater degree of autonomy that could be trusted to carry out instructions even when the necromancer was absent. As a Grand Necromancer, her master had no problems commanding his zombies, regardless of how far away they were. His zombies could also work together, pooling their knowledge with one another to better carry out their instructions.
Her master had given the rats another odd but effective method of communicating. His elite zombie warriors could share information with one another easily, and they had enough manual dexterity to write, albeit not very neatly. By having at least one zombie warrior at each outpost manned by the rats, the rats could send and receive messages through the link her master’s zombies had with each other. It was more secure than sending messages via zombie hawk although it still couldn’t transmit the sheer volume of information that a network of scrying spheres or scrying mages could. On the upside, it was far cheaper, and it was something Katie would be able to replicate as her skill and power increased.
There were rats with scrying magic or forms of telepathy, but they were exceptionally rare and generally kept away from the more dangerous missions. They were also encouraged to have more children, and Katie suspected that the clan was trying to improve its information network. Encouraging people with powerful magic to have more children was a fairly common custom throughout most of the world. Her master had made several comments about his friend, Councillor Winters, and how her family was subtly, and not so subtly, encouraging her to get married and have children. They didn’t want her to step down from any of her positions, but the fact was that she was by far the most powerful mage in her family’s history. She had surpassed even the legendary Light of Brereton, who had almost singlehandedly wiped out an invasion force from one of Everton’s neighbours. Her master had jokingly said that the only reason they hadn’t tried to arrange a marriage for Councillor Winters was because they knew what would happen to them if they did, and it would not be pleasant.
Katie bit back a grin. Her master had also said something similar about Councillor Arthurs, but in a far more aggravated tone. James was bad enough, her master had claimed. Having miniature copies of him walking around would be horrifying especially since he couldn’t actually do anything to them. Oh, it was one thing to send a hydra in a box to a Councillor who was powerful enough to kill hydras in his sleep. Children? No. Her master would have to put up with them, and James would be smart enough to use that to his advantage.
Today, the rats had some very interesting information, and it all came back to logistics. Everton traded with almost every nation in the world, so there were always merchants coming and going. Not even the Eternal Empire was strong enough to wage war using nothing more than its own resources. It needed more food, more metal, more wood, more everything, and what it couldn’t get from its own lands, it had to buy from elsewhere. Keeping track of all the wheeling and dealing was critical to predicting when the Eternal Empire would finally make a decisive move. Her master had asked the rats to infiltrate storehouses, ships, and ports. He’d even gone so far as to dispatch some of the most experienced rats overseas to infiltrate prominent trading cities. It was a tough job, but the rats accepted it gladly, mentioning how such foresight might have saved their original master.
And now, reports had begun to come back from overseas. The Eternal Empire was not only buying vast quantities of resources but also burning through them at an incredible rate. They were readying for war, and the first real strike could not be far away. The Eternal Empire’s huge purchases of food were especially telling. Food could only be kept for so long before it spoiled. They now had a time frame.
“I think we’re going to be very busy,” Katie murmured. “But in the meantime, how about a story?” She smiled and opened a book as the younger rats scampered onto her lap or fell into a loose circle around her. One of the youngest even had the gumption to clamber up onto her shoulder and reach for Rembrandt’s eye patch. The rat gave a chuckle and handed the little rat one of his spares. “We can start with the one about a princess and her pet rat…”
* * *
Katie concluded her time, for the day at least, with the rats and headed for the castle’s library with a spring in her step. Regardless of how horrible her master’s master had been, and everyone who’d known the man agreed he’d been horrible, he had at least seen fit to procure as many ancient tomes and sources of knowledge as possible. Admittedly, he’d acquired most of them through murder and other awful methods and he’d only been interested in using them for evil purposes, but she could hardly complain when she was reaping the benefits. Her master had added to the collection, and Katie had helped him. Unlike his master, however, they relied more on strategic acquisition than murder, which was a polite way of saying they raided ancient tombs for anything useful and occasionally stole from their enemies.
For a mage, there was more to power than mere magical strength. Knowledge was important. That was especially true for necromancers whose magic was excellent at taking advantage of the innovations people in the past had made. There were no less than two dozen different ways to create a zombie using necromancy. Most of them were suboptimal, but knowing all of them was still valuable. For instance, one method was terrific for creating aquatic zombies but practically useless for anything else. Likewise, the various esoteric rites and rituals mages had developed over the centuries could be studied and repurposed to better suit her needs. True, the odds of a summoning ritual summoning someone as friendly as Sam were practically nil, but summoning an uncontrollable, bloodthirsty monster could still be useful. She could, for example, sneak into her opponent’s base and summon it there before escaping in the ensuing chaos.
The library, which her master had plans to expand and upgrade, was also overflowing with books about other subjects, ranging from ancient legends and esoteric knowledge to carpentry and plumbing. Her master had spent much of his time with his master learning how to do various things to keep the cost of maintaining the castle down. His master had not left the castle in a good financial position despite making piles of money as a mercenary and assassin. Having gone over the castle’s books herself, she’d seen no shortage of blood and red ink. Thankfully, her master was as adept at making money to fund the castle as he was at avoiding arrest. The castle was now on firm financial footing, and they’d accumulated quite a stockpile of assets thanks to their investments, tomb raiding, missions, and other endeavours.
If she could, she would have slowed down time, so she could spend more time in the library. Her master had once teased her about it, saying that she might end up wearing an extra pair of glasses if she wasn’t careful. She’d tried to hit him with a book, but he was infuriatingly difficult to hit when he actually bothered to dodge. Of course, he’d been joking. Wearing a second pair of glasses wouldn’t help at all, and he spent a lot of time in the library too.
The librarian was another reason she liked the library. He’d once been a
great scholar, but her master’s master had murdered him and turned him into a zombie before enslaving him and forcing him to take care of the library. Katie scowled. That was just evil. Sure, she and her master made zombies, but they didn’t really have personalities. The librarian was one of the finest zombies she’d ever seen, and he retained all of his personality and intelligence, which was a testament to the skill and power her master’s master had possessed. Her master, being far less evil than his master, had offered to send him on to the afterlife, but the librarian had taken a shine to the library and had chosen to stay. He wanted to keep learning and researching until he felt ready to depart the mortal world. Her master was happy to have him around although he had asked the librarian to give him two weeks notice if he ever wanted to move on to the afterlife.
Katie got along with the librarian splendidly. The fact that he was a zombie didn’t bother her. She was a necromancer. She made zombies on a regular basis, many of which were the stuff of nightmares. For his part, the librarian was glad to have someone around who loved the library as much as he did. Unlike most zombies, he could speak perfectly well, and he looked almost normal although his deathly pallor and the stitches that had been used to put him back together gave him away. Her master’s master had apparently decided to cut him into pieces on more than one occasion as punishment for his defiance.
The librarian looked up as she entered the library. Like her and her master, he had access to the library’s security and surveillance magic. No one could enter or leave without his knowledge.
“Good afternoon, Katherine,” Isaac said. The zombie’s lips curled up into the grimace she’d learned was his version of a smile. “I take it the rats have been busy. I saw the explosion earlier when I went outside to note the weather for today.”
Katie twitched. “Just call me, Katie, please. And, yes, they’ve been working on some things. If they can get it to work, we’ll be able to shoot explosives at people from more than a mile away.”
He chuckled and moved away from the pile of books he was reading, so he could walk alongside her through the library. Rembrandt had left to attend to certain matters, so a rat with a crossbow was on her shoulder instead. “I believe in being polite, Katherine. It is your name, is it not? Why not use it?”
Katie grinned. “If you believe in being polite, why don’t you stop calling me that? I asked you to a week after I got here.”
“Yes, you did. Yet here we are.”
She giggled. It was amazing to hear such dry amusement coming from a zombie. “I talked to the rats. They were able to copy something for me. I plan to take it to Amanda for translation, but I wanted to learn more about it first. What do we have about The Book of Endless Suffering?”
“Oh? That is a good question. We don’t know much about the book. I doubt anyone does. If I recall correctly, there was a purge almost two millennia ago that wiped out almost all of the copies, along with dozens of vampire covens although not without reason. Those covens were very much into summoning evil entities and human sacrifice. It was a horribly messy affair, lots of fire, stakes, and blood. A complete copy would be a priceless treasure if you could find one, but your master and his master have never been able to find more than a handful of pages.”
“This might get troublesome.” Katie sighed. It was a depressingly common story. Ancient books often contained methods they claimed could destroy the world, so they became popular amongst evil cults and other nefarious groups. There was usually other, much more useful information, in those books too, but the aforementioned cults and groups invariably focused on bringing about the apocalypse, which usually resulted in them and the book being purged by the authorities.
“If you don’t mind my asking,” Isaac said. “But have you been able to recover more of it? You’re not planning to end the world, are you?” He gave her a stern look, which being a zombie only made more menacing.
“I quite like having the world around,” Katie replied. “But the pages the rats copied hinted at things I’m interested in. I want to know more about it before I take it to Amanda. She’s extremely knowledgeable, but she isn’t a necromancer. She might not be looking for the same things I am.”
“A fair point,” Isaac conceded. “But she may be more familiar with necromancy than you think. She has lived a very long time. She’s also been a frequent visitor here. She spends most of her time in the history section.”
“Really?” Katie hadn’t noticed Amanda on any of her trips to the library, but the vampire tended to be more active during the night while Katie slept.
Isaac chuckled. It was a rough, hollow sound. “She says she likes looking up old friends.”
Katie gave a short bark of laughter. She shouldn’t be surprised. Amanda was ancient. “I see. That makes sense. Well, can you gather what we do have about the book? I’d like to know as much as possible.” She rubbed her hands together gleefully. “If everything works out, I might be able to create a portal zombie.”
“A portal zombie?” The librarian’s brows furrowed. “I’m afraid I’m not familiar with the term.”
“Imagine a zombie who can act like a portal, belching out eldritch horrors from other dimensions to smite my enemies.”
Isaac nodded slowly. “Ah, right. Sometimes, Katie, I almost forget that you’re not simply a very clever, very precocious girl, and then you say things like that.”
She smiled. “Thank you.”
“I’m not entirely sure I meant that as a compliment.”
“Oh.”
The Rules
(Set After Two Necromancers, a Dragon, and a Vampire)
Timmy had certain rules that he did his best to abide by. As a self-respecting necromancer who engaged in the occasional bout of villainy – state-sponsored villainy now that he was working toward a pardon – it was a necessary part of doing business. The majority of merchants and other businessmen were quite happy to do business with someone on the wrong side of the law, provided they knew what moral code they subscribed to. It was all about stability and trust. If they could trust Timmy to pay his bills on time and to not murder them on a whim, then they could overlook the questionable legality of his profession. With regards to the exact origins of his funds, they simply didn’t ask. After all, for all they knew, he was merely a humble farmer who just so happened to live in a castle full of zombies that was built atop lightless chasms of unfathomable doom.
Plausible deniability was definitely a thing although how plausible could their deniability really be?
One of Timmy’s most important rules was also the most simple: he kept his word. When he made a deal, he did his best to stick by the terms of the deal. He also avoided unnecessary murder and other activities of a similarly dubious moral or legal nature. Oh, he had blood on his hands. He was a necromancer. He’d killed before. But he wasn’t one of those maniacs who went around looking for random villagers to slaughter or random merchants to relieve of their goods and their heads. He acquired his corpses through wholly legal private transactions or from trustworthy corpse dealers. Despite their distaste for necromancy, most people were happy to sell their corpses for the right price.
He also didn’t go out of his way to target children or law-abiding civilians. If an angry mob with stakes, torches, and pitchforks came after him, he would certainly defend himself, but he wouldn’t mow them down en masse with whatever nightmarish zombie he happened to have on hand. He might show them the nightmarish zombie, but that was it. A single glare or growl from a zombie hydra-chimera-manticore was usually enough to disperse an angry mob. There was actually an intricate sort of give and take involved. What most angry villagers wanted was to feel as though they were standing up for themselves. If he let them wave their stakes, torches, and pitchforks around for a bit before frightening them away, everybody won. The villagers got to feel brave for a few minutes, and he got to test out how terrifying his newest creation was.
When it came to dealing with his rivals, he preferred to wage war via zom
bie. He would bring his zombies, his rival would bring theirs, and they’d both sit back and let their zombies do most of the fighting. He did play pranks from time to time. Sending someone a box with an angry badger in it was hilarious, but he would have been amazed and sorely disappointed if any of his rivals had received anything worse than a laceration or two and a brief scare. None of his rivals were pathetic enough to meet their demise at the hands of the old angry-animal-in-a-box trick although he’d have to be careful if he ever worked out how to fit an angry dragon into a box. Even a small dragon would make short work of anyone who wasn’t properly prepared. Spot, for instance, was tiny for a dragon, but the thought of an angry Spot bursting out of a box was terrifying. If Spot didn’t simply incinerate whoever was unfortunate enough to open the box, his claws and teeth would certainly make an impression of the fatal variety.
Timmy also avoided targeting the apprentices or families of his rivals. This was one of the few policies he and his master had agreed on but for very different reasons. His master wanted the survivors to suffer, to stew in the torment of how utterly powerless they’d been to stop him. Most of his rivals were estranged from their families – necromancers and other villains generally were – and Timmy preferred to avoid targeting children or those who were not directly involved.
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