I know that such children were kicked out, given to beggars, even killed...and I couldn’t blame the parents. I couldn’t, not as a necromancer. What could help, other than orphanages? Not everyone could handle such a burden. Those children had to be taken care of. I might be a bastard and a jerk, but weren’t they great subjects for training healers? Why not?
And then, why don’t we gather the children of mages and teach and train them, so they could later work for the good of Radenor? We could do something with vows...
I wasn’t afraid. Half-demon blood would continue to manifest itself for many generations to come. After that, they could think of something, maybe add some more. I think my descendants would have enough nerve. Blood has its ways. In a generation or three, it would show itself, and a new necromancer would be born. As for the nasty temper...well, it could be dealt with via education.
“What if you’re killed?”
“You’ve asked that already.”
“Your Majesty—”
“Rene, no titles yet, please.”
“Alex, I must go with you.”
“No. Right now, you have to return to your father.”
“He’s going to marry me off!”
“You’ll survive that!”
“Alex, I’m too young! And then, marrying a stranger—”
“Worst case, you can poison her,” I chuckled. “But in all seriousness, tell your father not to hurry. I have a few girls in mind.”
“So that’s how it is.”
“You don’t have to marry any of them if you don’t want to. But they have titles, good dowries, and as for lands, I can add some.”
I was thinking about Rick’s daughters. They were baronesses, smart, pretty, and devoted to the Crown, and by that I mean myself.
“Do I know them?”
“Tommy has sisters...”
Rene nodded thoughtfully.
“I’ll have to get a closer look. Fine, I’ll talk to my father. But—”
“And I’m going to Riolon.”
Nobody dared to argue with the king except for Rene, so the next morning, we rode in different directions. Once again, my horse’s hoofs clattered on the road stones. I wondered how many people would recognize me.
Lintor would, definitely, and he was likely to be at court as Baron Temilen. Innis?
Oh, Innie...
But I was certain she was in Andago and, as smart as she was, trying to distance herself from those in power. At least if I got lucky.
No. I shouldn’t think about that.
The all too familiar grey ice covered my mind, making my feelings fade...
It was risky, of course. Sooner or later, my demonic part would overwhelm me. Let it.
My son would inherit the throne, and I would leave. I was born and bred for revenge. Human happiness wasn’t meant for a half-demon.
***
“Grandpa, have you no shame?”
“Innis, why do you think that ghosts have that?”
Tidann smiled coyly.
Really, to hell with shame. He did know something, however. Necromancers could summon ghosts, and ghosts, in turn, could locate necromancers, if they really wanted and cared to. They were two sides of the same coin. And now...
Yes, the ghosts he had contacted told him about many necromancers. Several dozen mages lived across Radenor, Riolon, and Tevarr in hiding. Some were too young or too old; some looked different. And some of them—almost everyone, really—had not a drop of demonic blood.
But one man ticked all the boxes. A certain Alexander Leonard Radenor, the king of Radenor. He was a necromancer, and as it happened, had recently gone missing for almost an entire month, if not more. Upon his return, he had restored order and, more interestingly, had become a widower!
Ghosts were hard to trick when it came to such things.
“Why the demon should I go to the capital?”
“Maybe for that demon?”
“Alex won’t return. He said it himself.”
“Innis, you have to trust me. Just do as I say, all right?”
“Depends on what you say.”
“Go to the capital, introduce yourself to the new king or regent, and come back.”
Tidann cracked a sly grin. A schemer to the core, he realized very well that if he were to tell Innis the truth, or what he considered the truth, the girl would never go there.
And Alex? It wasn’t advisable for ghosts to pick a bone with necromancers. The latter had harmful working conditions and difficult personalities. They learned how to banish ghosts first thing in their training. Tidann Andago was in no hurry to travel to the netherworld. His great-granddaughter was yet to marry and the bloodline needed to continue.
No, his ways would be different.
“I don’t want to go back.”
“You do. Take Auntie Madie, spend a month there...”
“Transition is a difficult time. Who knows what might happen?”
“Nothing’s going to happen to you. The Church is in shambles, the king is dead, as is his eldest son, and as for the youngest...well, you know.”
“I do.”
“Radenor has the right to claim it, an army, and a personality to match.”
“What personality?”
“This Radenor is a peculiar person. He’s willful and loves discipline...and he also loves thieves. Hanging them, that is.”
“That’s a nice approach.”
“Our noble crooks are already weeping, but what could one do?”
“What about a rebellion?”
“Innie, each rebellion needs a leader. Who would it be?”
Innis bit her lip. Who, really?
She had heard something about that king. Even if she had never researched him specifically, she couldn’t ignore what everybody around her had said. When he had received the throne, the country was in ruins. He had won a war with Tevarr, gotten reparations, and tightened the law. Currently, Radenor was at peace.
As for people disliking him... Well, he was a king, not an apple pie. Being a king was a thankless job; no matter what decisions he made, people were bound to end up dissatisfied. Some wanted to steal, some desired to avoid work, and others simply aspired to scoop up everything in their sight, while the laws prohibited all that. Bad laws!
And who was to blame? The king.
“Should we take Tyrimma with us?”
“Leave her here. The head groom’s trying to court her.”
Innis snorted.
The groom was a respectable man in his thirties, a widower with a child, and his intentions were quite serious. Auntie Madie prayed every day for them to work out. Such a man would never let anybody mess with his wife and wouldn’t beat her, either. Of course, Tyrimma would have her hands full with housework and the children, but that would be for the best.
Innis really wasn’t in the mood for a trip, but if Tidann said it was important...
***
The Knights of the Church were finally left alone. They had lots of things to discuss.
If the king was guilty of their brethren’s deaths, he would have never left the temple alive, yet the crystal had shown them that His Majesty was innocent.
He hadn’t lied to them—which meant that somebody else was to blame. But who? Where would they find him? How would they get their revenge?
The king had promised help, but only in restoring the Church, not in wreaking vengeance, and they hadn’t tried to push him, realizing that another man in his place would have sent troops after them and hanged the survivors.
The meeting lasted a long time. Finally, a vote was held, with the following results.
First, the templars decided to return to their temples and restore them, finding new disciples, students, and future servitors. And—the king had a point—they would try to find true believers and not those who wanted to solve their personal problems using the faith of others.
Second, they would continue searching for the villain who had dared to...well, they still were
n’t quite sure what exactly that villain had dared to do. None of the templars had seen the King of Rats, so their only guess was a life mage. Who else could have sent packs of rats? Not a fire mage or a necromancer; rats were a part of life, whether one liked it or not. So the king couldn’t have had anything to do with it.
As for his ban on mage-hunting, well, it was understandable; he was one of them after all. It was a pretty unpleasant law, but the templars could wait. Maybe after some time, they could gain some concessions, such as permission to capture mage criminals.
Zealots or not, all true believers realized that mages could be useful. Some in their ranks, however, claimed that all of them were to be killed—but then, what would they do? Go murder all life mages left and right? Wouldn’t that make them the villains? Some were too stubborn to be stopped by that argument; they had to be whipped into line. There weren’t too many of them, however, only a score.
Of course, the templars suspected that Radenor wanted to annex Riolon. They didn’t care much, though. As the king had said, earthly matters weren’t the Church’s concern. In the past, the Church leaders had cared too little about faith in the people’s hearts. They had used their influence to strengthen the temples: with money, land, and connections, and they had paid the price. The knights had seen all of that, but what could they do? Now, they had an opportunity to change something, and they were ready to use it.
Still, they weren’t about to forgive and forget. One day, they would find those guilty, and on that day, they would get their revenge.
***
The capital of Riolon met me with familiar grey walls and the colors of guards’ uniforms.
I stifled a desire to pass by Auntie Madie’s house. I had no right.
But if Innis is still here... No. No right. We headed directly to the royal palace.
They were waiting for us and they were less than enthusiastic. The prince was put on the throne, and currently, he was focused on ripping a tassel off his blue velvet gown. His crown had slumped down his head, but he didn’t seem to notice. A low forehead, a slanted chin, an under bite...
He didn’t care about power or the throne; all he wanted was toys, food, and sleep. He really was a sweet child, but he would never grow up, would never be able to talk even about the weather, as much as it pained me to think.
Still, the officials stood around him in a closed circled and eyed me warily.
Should I move closer? As if.
I casually leaned on the door and smirked, as I looked over those gilded peacocks. Well, they clearly seemed to lack some feathers. But maybe I could help them…
“What did you count on, gentlemen? That you’d rule on behalf of the boy?”
“That we’ll be ruled by His Majesty Darius.”
“Then you should have taken better care of him,” I said, shrugging. “Is there any news about him?”
“He’s dead.
“Have you found his body?”
One of the men lowered his eyes and I bared my teeth.
“Oh, have you contacted a necromancer?”
Nobody was in a hurry to confirm it. After all, it meant a death sentence.
“In Radenor, necromancers aren’t outlawed unless their actions harm others,” I informed them in a saccharine voice.
“Your Majesty, we are Riolonians!”
Such a look! Such a voice! Such theatrics! I immediately determined the most crooked of courtiers.
“I suppose that won’t change. If the two countries are ever going to be merged, it would happen during my son’s reign,” I told them, finally revealing my hand.
Otherwise, too many things would need to be changed. Still, maybe I’ll manage it myself? We’ll see.
All hell broke loose. The prince slid down the throne and tried to hide under it, and nobody even cared. They were smart enough to avoid attacking or trying to kill me. At the same time...
Like a goldfish, power shined in front of them, just outside of reach, promising them untold riches. Just catch it by the tail and all your dreams will come true! Well, gentlemen, you’ll have to get by without it. If anybody really wants a tail, I could offer you my own; it even has a spike.
I waited for the noise to become truly unbearable and for the prince to crawl under the throne, and then nonchalantly dropped a suit of armor on the floor, along with the guard inside it.
The clatter of metal plating ensued, making everyone pause for a second, which was enough for me.
“Shut up! You,” I told the man closest to me, pointing at him for good effect, “hurry up and pull the prince from under the throne. Take him to his chambers. You’ve scared the child, idiots!”
My growl was almost demonic, which was for the best, really. The Riolonians froze in place. Dimalt was pulled out from under the throne. He was yelling, biting, and overall making a horrible impression.
“And that’s who you wanted to show your people? That’s the child behind whose back you wanted to rule? And how were you going to make him produce children? What if they were the same as him?”
Going by their faces, they had already contemplated that question, but not extensively. They didn’t care about the long run, as long as power was so close.
“I have no claim on the throne of Riolon. I’ll rule until my child becomes an adult.”
“Your child—”
“Her Majesty Dariola is still in the family way, and our son or daughter will be entitled to both thrones. Or maybe we’ll have another child...”
We wouldn’t, of course. I still didn’t know how to divulge that information, however.
Whatever. Dariola was set to “die” after I got back, or maybe...
I would have to contact the chancellor. He was grateful enough for Rene’s rescue to do that for me, and more.
I was standing and playing with a halberd I got from the unfortunate guard. If I had to kill a couple of courtier pigs, I wouldn’t exactly be upset. It was about time. They watched me as well—and they knew that they had lost.
They could still kill me, true. But they would never withstand a war with Radenor. It would be a fight to the death. Curiously enough, I was popular among my people. Just imagine the situation: His Royal Majesty had gone to visit another country and got murdered right inside the royal palace. That wasn’t something that could be swept under the carpet.
Well, they could poison me, but that was more of a long-term solution.
“Your Majesty, but can we hope we’ll keep our customs and traditions?”
In translation, that meant one thing: Can we keep stealing? Won’t you kick us out?
Of course, I would; but first, I needed to establish myself. Until then, better the devil you know.
“Of course I’ll swear to honor your customs and traditions,” I told them with a touch of irony in my voice, “and so will my son. I have enough concerns in Radenor.”
They didn’t seem especially convinced by the promise of an oath. Well, it’s not like I would insist.
“We’ll be living in Radenor, of course, and I’ll appoint a governor to rule here.”
I could almost hear a collective sigh of relief. Oh, you’re hoping that I’ll pick one of you? Actually, I was thinking about Rene.
“Your Majesty, we...err...are ready to serve our homeland.”
That guy wasn’t as stupid as I had thought. Homeland was a complicated thing, and it might not include me.
“Then I’ll stay here for twenty days, give or take. Over this time, we’ll transfer the power...”
“A coronation, Your Majesty?”
“No! We’ll announce my regency until my children with Dariola come of age. I will come into office, appoint a governor, and return home.”
“Your Majesty, but that’s so much...”
“You’ll have to find the time.”
Apparently, I was convincing enough, as the officials started to nod and bow. After two hours of pleasantries, I was led into the old king’s chambers, where I took up residence.
<
br /> I looked at the bedroom ceiling, my head all but empty of thoughts, and a dreary feeling came over me. That night, I had come here to kill. Today, I’ve come here to take...what is mine? Not really; Riolon wasn’t mine by any measure. Quite the opposite; I was a murderer. I had no right to that throne. But did it really matter?
People betrayed, cheated, and killed; were they any worse than demons? Should I be blamed because they simply couldn’t do something that I could? And that’s why I had gained so much.
So much...but not everything—Innis. Her dark tresses appeared before my eyes, ruffled by the wind.
No! Don’t think. Don’t feel. Forget.
With a practiced effort, I summoned the grey ice. Eventually, it would be all that was left inside of me. The real me would be gone. I had already learned what Argadon had told me about; I learned to kill for profit, to manipulate people as I saw fit, framing the undesired and murdering the unneeded. The only thing left was to learn to betray—and forget.
The last one would be the most difficult...but it’s not like I had too much to forget.
Carlie. Innis. Two names, one of which told me about betrayal, and the other, about parting.
Don’t think. Don’t break your heart.
***
And yet, at night, I returned to familiar grounds.
If any of the neighbors noticed a shadow that slipped into Auntie Madie’s palisade, they didn’t raise any alarm. Quite right, too. I haven’t come here to steal.
The house was dark and empty. Nobody was inside. I knew that Innis was in Andago, but still...
The ice thawed, its cold sheets melting away, and I felt pain. That was the place where I had been happy once. I couldn’t help but picture it in my head.
Innis, sitting next to Auntie Madie, helping her thread wool, me coming into the room, and her raising her head, smiling at me.
I had never seen such a smile in the palace; it was warm and sincere. Innie had been happy to see me.
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