Delphinium- or A Necromancer's Home

by V. M. Jaskiernia

  Lizzy laughed. “I am glad as well.”

  The carriage began to move. It seems their secluded meeting was either not found out, or was being ignored, and they would get to spend more time in just each other’s company.

  They were already in the duchy of Piques. He had felt it when they crossed the border some days ago, right before Lizzy took too ill to continue on. He had not been here for over ten years but his heart clenched when they entered the land. There was little fanfare to separate Hearts and Spades, the border unguarded and the only building of note the grand tower that stood in the center where Hearts and Spades met along with Diamonds. But it was enough- the outermost reaches of his parents’, his, home.

  Now he was returning to rule this land and its people.

  Would he do a good job? He had spent the last several years learning how to be a doctor, and a lord of death, forgetting many lessons in politics. He was suddenly very grateful that Aimé promised him help and gave him this last year to regain his knowledge. Before he could stop himself he voiced his fears aloud.

  “What if I am a bad duc?”

  “Oh Pierre. You shan’t be. You will have your advisors, His Highness, and I have never known you to be bad at anything.”

  “Except riding,” he added.

  Elizabeth smiled. “And I will be there as well. Though I do not know how much help I will be.”

  Invaluable, he thought.

  Now it was Pierre who changed the subject to avoid more discussion.

  “Have you been to Spadille, my dear?”

  “I have traveled the borders of Piques,” she replied. “But I have never been within the heart of the land.”

  “I have not been home in so many years, I cannot assure you of what we will find. An adventure then?”

  “An adventure,” she agreed.

  Four

  “How did you get up there?”

  Pluta meowed her reply, which sounded just like a cat’s voice to him for once. Perhaps she was too embarrassed to say the truth. With a smile he held out his arms, anyway. “Come down now.”

  She sat up, adjusted herself, and sprang into the open air. He caught her and hugged her before letting the cat climb up to her favorite perch around his shoulders.

  Pierre winced at the claws that were dug into his back. “Ow! Pluta, I caught you already, be careful!”

  Beside him Elizabeth stifled her laughter.

  They had stopped for lunch and to rest in a small village. Pluta had gone hunting in the woods and not returned after a time so Pierre and Lizzy had gone off in search for her (not truly worried, but it was a nice excuse to be alone). She had gotten herself stuck in a tall tree and, familiar or not, was wary of the way down.

  “There, there, Pluta, you’re safe with us again.” Lizzy said, reaching out to stroke her. Pluta meowed and nudged her hand in agreement, Pierre understanding her telling Lizzy that she was fine. Elizabeth, of course, did not understand the familiar’s language.

  “She does seem better now,” he agreed. “Come on, let’s have a stroll around before we go back.” They had not been allowed much time alone together after that first half of the day in the carriage.

  “So what did you do this last year or so?” Elizabeth asked. Pierre wrapped his arm around her and they began to walk down a natural path. “Piers mentioned you working like mad. And you never sent a letter.”

  “I apologized for this already, my lady,” he replied in a light tone. “It is not becoming to hold grudges.” Having said that, he looked towards her to make sure it was not still a sore subject. She was smiling.

  “And it was surgery work mainly, assisting in hospitals when possible,” he replied. “I had decided around then that I wished to finish early, though I was already ahead of many in my classes as I rarely took the summertime off.”

  They heard water and made towards the stream. Pluta decided against this plan and jumped off from Pierre’s shoulders.

  “Go back to the village then,” Pierre told her. “If you get stuck again we shall not help you.”

  “Oh, don’t say such things! Of course we will help you, Pluta. But look for a mouse and not a bird this time.”

  The cat was already turning around and heading back, tail high in the air, deciding to ignore the two of them for now.

  Lizzy giggled.

  “How does one learn surgery work?” she asked.

  “We had corpses to practice on,” Pierre admitted. It was not nicest thing to say aloud. Most of the students were uncomfortable with it even. “We need to be able to know what goes where, and why, and how. In the hospitals we mainly watched the surgeons and passed them instruments.”

  “How did you receive corpses?” It seemed Lizzy was undeterred with the gruesome topic.

  “Several people and families generously allowed us to use their loved one’s bodies after death.”

  “I cannot imagine that is popular. Did you share each…Body?”

  Pierre grimaced. He had not wished to inform Lizzy of this specifically. “Truthfully most were criminals whose deaths were not deemed important enough to give full funerals. At least this way they would be… of use.”

  She took this in stride, nodding her head slowly looking a little paler.

  “A grim year, then.”

  “Quite. Though it was not all gloom and horror.”

  “Do tell?”

  “We were students after all. Pranks were pulled, curfew ignored, alcohol drunk in excess. I was among the oldest so I mainly watched over the younger men.”

  “And when you were younger?” Lizzy probed, reading into what Pierre had not said. He did not meet her eyes, staring up at the trees quite pointedly.

  “Your brother and I had our fun at times.”

  She laughed. They had gotten into enough trouble as children to guess the level of possible mischief Pierre and Piers could do when alone and bored.

  “Anything illegal?”

  I killed a man, he thought. Several in fact, but one stood out to him in that moment. A prisoner taken straight from his hanging to a slab, so the students could see what was as close to a living body as possible. He had been not quite as dead as they had thought. After seeing the blood flowing and hearing the man let out a moan, even opening his eyes, many of the students turned away and one ran to alert a professor. Pierre had made it seem that he checked for a pulse, but he squeezed the very damaged windpipe. By the time someone with more authority was in the room the man was well and truly dead. It was deemed a delayed hanging. Pierre remained to finish the lesson even though he had been offered a pass at seeing a man die right before his eyes.

  “No,” he told her.

  “A pity. I hear from Piers that the best moments are those that might get you a night in jail for your troubles.”

  “Oh, did he? What tales did he tell his dear little sister?”

  “I believe there was a time when the boys in your dorm snuck in strong wine, or went out on the town. Perhaps those were both done in the same night, it would explain much.”

  “I never did such things.”

  “Of course not. Though I now shall have to find myself another companion,” she said with a smile and sly glance to him. “I would like a partner with experience in such things so I have some guidance when I deem to try.”

  She pulled away from him then, they were finally by the bank of the river they had heard. It was wide, with stones dotting the surface and fish darting in between fallen branches and underwater plants. It seemed like mostly calm water. Before he could reply or ask what she was planned she dashed ahead. He gave chase. At the edge of the river she did not stop, pulling up her skirts and jumping to a rock, and then another, and finally a third almost in the center. She made it, arms waving to keep her balance and getting one shoe wet, but staying on top of the rock. With a laugh she turned and curtsied to him.

  “And you think yourself safe there, Lizzy dear?” he called.

  Pierre took little care of his attire, jumpin
g straight into the water and mud without even rolling up his pants. Lizzy gasped, looking around for another place to go, but the far side of the bank was, as named, too far, and there were no more stones close by.

  He reached her then, grabbing her and swinging her in his arms as she shrieked.

  “Pierre!”

  “Hush or I shall drop you!”

  “You would not!”

  He pretended to, getting another shriek from her that had him laughing as he carried her back to shore. The water was shallow and calm, if cold, waist deep for Pierre and would have been even higher for Lizzy.

  “No, my dear, I would not,” he agreed, finally, sitting her down in the grass. Not after she had just been ill. Another day, perhaps.

  They were the same height at the moment and he kissed her before getting out himself and looking down at his ruined clothes. His shoes were wet and the feeling was quite uncomfortable out of the water. He knelt down and began to untie the laces.

  Lizzy bit her tongue to keep from asking naughtily if he would also take off his trousers.

  When barefoot Pierre hopped back into the stream with the shoes in his hands.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Leaving my shoes,” he called over his shoulder, going back to the rock. He made sure they would not fall into the water before again returning. “They are quite nice shoes, but hardly my only pair. I am sure there are fée around, perhaps the gift would be appreciated. We cannot spare much food or drink.”

  Her one shoe was hardly as wet as his had been but she sat and began to undo her laces as well. Without a word he bent down to help her.

  “I shall buy you an even lovelier pair when we reach Piques,” he promised as he turned back to place her shoes next to his.

  “Oh, you do not—”

  “I insist.”

  She kissed the top of his head.

  “How do you know there are fée here in these woods?”

  “It is a good assumption to have that most large wood will have fée or at least entries to Faery. But in this case I.. Feel them.”

  “Feel them?”

  “Mm. Their magia in the air. I think some are following the carriages to catch glimpses. We may meet a few in town. Perhaps they are interested in me?”

  “Then it is good to leave a gift,” she said. “They may have caused us or the villagers trouble if we did not acknowledge them.”

  He only nodded, deferring to her knowledge of the fée. He had not been sure if leaving his shoes was a good idea actually, but her confirmation made him smile.

  “Come on, let us go back.”

  ***

  “It looks a bit suspicious that you are so attached to my trunk.”

  It was after dinner and camp had been set for the evening. They were three days from Spadille now, this half of the journey going well. They were now down to those that were specifically heading to Piques’ capital— Pierre’s party and the guards and servants that the castle had deemed he need travel with. Among those were several from Eichel as well, for Elizabeth’s sake. Those from Eichel would stay with Lizzy, while the castle guards and servants would return home shortly after arrival.

  Wolfram, who was a guest of Pierre’s more than a servant, sat near the wagons that held the baggage. In particular, by the decorated trunk that used to sit in front of Pierre’s bed at the castle.

  “I would rather seem odd than have anyone open it and look inside, Your Grace,” the boy replied.

  True enough. Inside, underneath some sheets, was the body of a young girl Pierre had killed. It was on behalf of Wolfram and the girl herself, of course, but that made it no less immoral or illegal. That he intended to bring her back to life doubly so.

  “Tell me about her,” Pierre asked, sitting down beside Wolfram. “I have come to know some about you, but not her. What is a girl from the swan-folk’s land doing in Father’s court?”

  “Cygnati,” Wolfram corrected. “That is their word for their bestia. And I brought her with me.”

  “Oh?”

  The boy smiled. “They have soul-mates. Those born cygnati have always had a past life where the couple swore to love another for all their future rebirths. They sense this person, in a way, but to be certain there are rituals done. She found out through another that her love, I, was on this continent. Her parents did not wish her to leave so young, but she disobeyed and stowed away on a ship heading to Kilenc. She found me months later. We were together for half a year at most, and then she began to fall ill late last summer. I left Bellotas to find a physician to help. I ran into Lord Ophion on my travels and he took me in to teach and help me. I do not know if this is an illness from this land that her body cannot deal with, or something that only affects her people, but everything Ophion and I tried failed. So I, as you know, began to study more desperate measures with him. In the end I was not enough.”

  “She will be well,” Pierre said. “I give you my word.”

  “Salome. Her name is Salome.”

  Pierre nodded and settled back against the trunk which held her body.

  “And you and she were wed in a past life?”

  “Oui. She says that in her dreams she remembers moments, and perhaps I will too after we wed in this life. We had spoken about engagement already, before her illness, her parents finally accepting her departure as she had found me. They were agreeable to a wedding, no sense in putting it off as we were already wed once upon a time. Then she fell ill. We never told her parents that, saying instead that I wished to finish my education before traveling to her home. Then she asked to die. I could not… I just wished to do as she desired. I did not want her in pain and—”

  Pierre placed a hand on his shoulder when the younger boy stopped speaking, gripping the edges of the trunk and holding on until his fingertips were white.

  “She will be well,” Pierre repeated. Wolfram only nodded, taking a deep breath to compose himself.

  “I do have a question,” he said. At Pierre’s nod he continued. “What if the body has decayed? It may be months by the time I am ready to try and bring her back.”

  “She will not decay,” Pierre said. “I have made it so that the microanimalia will not feast on her. But even if a corpse were bones there is a possibility to resurrect the life as long as it is all gathered together. A missing arm or a leg could be regrown, I suppose… I have never tried. It is more likely if one is missing a limb then they will remain without one once they have returned.”

  He stood and brushed at his trousers to rid himself of the dirt. “Come, let us test this.”

  He whistled sharply for Pluta as they took to the edges of the forest. She came bounding out from under the carriages and over to them.

  “My dear,” Pierre said to her, kneeling down to stroke her head and scratch underneath her chin. “Find something small and decayed for us, I have a lesson to show and something to attempt.”

  She chirped approval and dashed into the woods.

  Pluta returned a few minutes later with a large rat, decrepit and foul, and missing its tail already. She dropped it in front of Pierre and sneezed, shaking her head in disgust.

  “Thank you. You shall be rewarded for your trouble.”

  The boy crouched beside him and Pierre let Wolfram see his hand as he cut it with his folding knife along the line for Life. He picked up the rat then and positioned his hand until a small stream of blood flowed into the animal’s small muzzle. Pluta moved up beside him and nudged him, then began to lick at his wound. By the time was blood was cleaned off his hand there was not even a mark where the cut had been.

  He did not move his fingers much, not needing to for such a small life, and slowly the rat began to change. New muscle and skin grew over a gaping hole, the tail lengthened and thickened, fur returned with a sheen. It was still mostly dirty, but when it opened its eyes and squeaked it looked no different than any other forest rat.

  Pierre stroked its head and it calmed down.

  “So this is far m
ore than just returning the soul to flesh,” Wolfram whispered, forcing himself to keep his voice down. “We are healing—creating!” He sounded more excited than Pierre had ever heard him.

  “We are.”

  He set the rat back down on the ground and it ran off into the underbrush, with Pluta right on its heels.

  Pierre wiped his hands on his trousers and stood.

  “It is why I also began to learn medicine. Knowledge is most important in this cræft. Granted, I do not know much about how a rat’s body works, but in general how muscle and bone and blood all work together is very helpful. The spirits are far more likely to aid you if you push them in a direction that is natural and they are used to.” As natural as forcing life into death can be.

  They returned to their seat by the campfire, continuing to talk about more innocent subjects.

  A short while later Wolfram observed Pierre flinch harshly.

  “Are you alright, Your Grace?”

  The duc made sure to note that they were not being listened to before he spoke.

  “Pluta caught the rat and killed it. I felt it.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, where a cat would bite to sever the spine.

  “Oh.”

  “Yes. This is not something I have felt often, but if you use the magic on many it will be more frequent. Should they die by anyone else’s hand beside your own, nature’s included, you shall feel their passing. It is different than when you inflict the last blow— that you control. So be careful who, and how many, you share your blood with. The power over them lasts three days and you are connected to everyone you do this with for that time being. If I were to, say, give my blood to a whole battalion of men to try and aid them in their fight, should many become gravely wounded and begin dying faster than I can heal them, I may die as well. Death pulls you to herself. Remember this.”

  He wondered if, as a lord of death, this would still be true. Somehow he thought it would only entice death more.