Necrosworn: Chronicles of the Wizard-Detective

by J. B. Markes

  "And here I thought you were a rogue like me," he said just as I spotted him on the boardwalk. I wouldn't have recognized him in his fisherman's rags if he hadn't approached me directly. "Have you joined the other side then?"

  "Only until I head back to the academy," I replied with a weak smile.

  "Ah." He nodded. "So there it is. Back to those who turned you out?"

  "Master Thaddeus. I am honored by your invitation."

  "But," he said.

  "To be honest, it's not even the academy," I said. "My place is with Gustobald now."

  "Your place is with someone who understands you. The sickness will return sooner than you think. You don't need him."

  "You might be right. Maybe I don't, but I think he needs me."

  "A wild mage can't afford friends."

  "You think I don't know that?"

  Thaddeus moved to stand at my side and stared out to sea, trying too hard not to look at me. He gave a haughty sigh. He was a hard man, the inexorable result of the cruel world that had crafted him. After a couple more sighs and a head shake, he gave up. He turned so suddenly I thought he might leave without a goodbye.

  "Okay, Isabel. If you're not too stubborn to listen, let me offer one last piece of advice and what small token of aid I can." He removed a tiny bauble from his fishing bag and handed it to me. I picked the glass bead from his dirty palm and held it between my thumb and forefinger, inspecting it with little esteem after handling Ruby's expensive stone. "If a day comes when you are ready—and you'll know it—crush this trinket and I will know where you are. I will find you. Until then, show a little care who you let in on your little secret.

  "And whatever you do, don't ever mention me. If I were you, I would never go back to the magic school. How long do you think you can keep this up? Walking about in the robes of academy wizards and sentinels for all to see. You may fool some, but not those who would do you harm."

  "The academy already knows about me," I said. "They won't harm me. They've given me the freedom to come and go as I please."

  "The only freedom offered a wild mage is the freedom to die alone!" His eyes burned fiercely and there was a catch in his throat. "That's in the best of cases. Live longer and your list of enemies will grow. Today you are their heroine. Time will wash away that illusion. How long before they send the Sentinels for you and your master? Wait and see what they do to the wild mages that nature hasn't weeded out."

  "Gustobald will change all that," I said. "He's a good man. And soon everyone will know him just like I do. He'll be the most famous necromancer in the world, and the academy will have no choice but to accept him as one of their own."

  "Discretion." Thaddeus took a quick look around. Satisfied no one was watching, he let his illusion fade and was back in his gentleman's disguise. He swung his high hat inelegantly and pulled it onto his head. "You're not one of them. The day you think you are is the day you sign your own death note. That goes double for Gustobald Pitch. He's giving us outcasts a bad name." At that he gave me a crooked smile and cordial nod then strolled casually up the First Way on his way out of town. I wasn't sure I wanted to meet him again in the face of his dark predictions.

  I held my arm up to give Zephyr something to land on. He perched on my wrist, puffed up his feathers, and cooed at me. Not quite alive, not quite dead; he was enjoying his time on the sea breeze—enjoying what time he had. I would do the same.

  * * *

  After Airlea's death and Seeker Celeste's sending I was emotionally spent, but the prince's funeral was held the next day in the outer courtyard. It was a morbid convenience that so many of the Coranthian noblemen who had been called for the gifting ceremony were still in Astar. Indeed, I recognized several of their previous gifts being hauled in by servants to bolster the effect of the funeral offerings. The recent celebration of betrothal was still fresh in everyone's mind, so special attention was paid to ensure the funeral proceedings were significantly more memorable.

  For me it was just the opposite. I could think of nothing but Archseer Bartleby's funeral, which led me to ponder just how much death I had experienced since the day I met Gustobald Pitch. I stood in the back beside my master, unfazed by the splendor of the king's wealth. Shiny! Zephyr called out in my mind from high above the affair, where he could safely survey the gifts of consolation left in front of the prince's open coffin.

  "It's too much," I said as Inspector Raines approached. "They turn life and death into a joke with all this excess."

  "Harsh words as usual, Miss Ives," the inspector said, patting me on the shoulder. "We can't fault His Majesty. His life is defined by excess, both of wealth and power. How can such a man be expected to handle loss like the rest of us?"

  "Speaking of handling things," I replied. "The Ashdowns are being rather civil about the misunderstanding. I wonder if His Majesty shouldn't have a care with them in the future. They won't soon forget what happened."

  Lord and Lady Ashdown and their daughter were mourning in the front row, in the position of honor right next to the royal family. Queen Valora held the young Lady Ashdown in her arms, both crying, seeking strength from one other. King Eamon mourned alone, every bit the broken man I had met my first day in the capital.

  "I don't know," Gustobald said. "There is surely something about the death of a loved one that puts things into perspective." He looked down at his pipe, which he polished in lieu of being able to smoke. "You see the wealth, but don't be blinded to the truth. The king is not the same man he was, nor will he ever be, nor can he, not until he forgives himself. Tell me, Miss Ives—Isabel. Do you think he's suffered enough?" He let slip a reluctant smile, but didn't wait for me to puzzle out an answer. Instead he stowed his pipe and started up the center aisle.

  "What's he playing at now?" Raines asked with a tired sigh. "Tell me he's not going to—"

  "Make a scene?" I asked. "I hope so." I left Raines to his fretting. He didn't dare follow. When I caught up with Gustobald, I saw the hungry look in his eye. We were no longer at a funeral; we were on the hunt.

  "Let me have your wand," he whispered.

  "I don't have it."

  "Well, get it," he replied with markedly less patience.

  "I mean I don't have it. It was taken from me. Princess Meridale took my wand and satchel and never gave them back."

  "Took your—Do you mean to say she robbed you?" He stopped walking and looked me in the eye to let me know he didn't appreciate this new joke.

  "Not robbed. I just—"

  "Robbed by a princess? Of all the cockamamie—a princess!"

  "I wasn't allowed to go near her to ask for it back," I said, glancing around as more and more guests turned to see the nature of the commotion. "I was banned from seeing the royal family."

  "Well, don't just stand there. Call the inspector. Raise the alarm! She's probably halfway to the port by now!"

  I lowered my voice to a whisper, hoping Gustobald would follow. "She's sitting right there, and so is the king. Oh, great, now he's looking at us. I thought you had a plan."

  "What is the meaning of this?" King Eamon's voice was powerful, even in his grief.

  "Your Majesty!" Gustobald flourished and gave a wide bow. "Allow me to explain. My assistant has misplaced her wand, but if you'll give me one moment."

  "I have that training wand," I whispered, pulling it from my wrist.

  Gustobald snatched it from me, too disgusted to address me directly. "My entrance is ruined. Your Majesty—Your Majesties! Your Highness. Lords and Ladies. Sentinels and—"

  "Get on with it, Pitch!" Eamon ignored the queen's calming hand on his arm and stood. He looked ready to strangle the necromancer, and no one would have stopped him.

  "Right, on with it!" Gustobald rushed to the front of the congregation, and I briefly regretted putting my blind faith in him, but I had come too far to distance myself now. I joined him front-and-center and he shook me proudly. "I present to you Miss Isabel Ives."

  Terrified, I step
ped away to return to my place in the rear beside the inspector, but Gustobald clung tightly to the cowl of my robes and pulled me back. When I fell into him, he stood me up straight. I forced a transparent smile as I searched for an avenue of escape.

  "I, Gustobald Pitch, worked tirelessly night and day to uncover the devious minds behind this plot. It took no small amount of perseverance, of courage, of sacrifice to see it through to the bitter end—a large portion of which belongs to this young woman standing before you. She is strong of character, capable of anything she puts her mind to. She is a sad excuse for a necromancer, utterly terrible. But she's brilliant."

  At the mention of necromancy, the crowd turned restless. I saw the fear in their eyes. The Sentinels stood their ground. They wouldn't turn on the person who avenged their Seeker, but neither were they happy to have someone dressed as a First Sentinel outed as a necromancer.

  "This isn't the time for this, Gustobald," I whispered in a wavering tone during the meager applause.

  "On the contrary. This may be the last chance we get. Now stand up straight and look smart." He held up his hands for silence, but ended up shouting above the growing disruption. "If we had more like her—more students of necromancy—the world would be better off. I trust you remember that."

  Gustobald faced the coffin and held out his hand, levitating the jeweled box Master Xavier had presented during the gifting ceremony. He brought it out in front and set it down on the smooth stone of the courtyard. With a twist of his hand, he opened the box to reveal the star-studded midnight orb. He raised the gaudy sculpture from its resting place to revolve in the air at eye level, its diamonds glittering in the sunlight.

  "And now I give you the celestial orb. This precious stone itself is worth a fortune. You could build a tower for the same price. But this one's particularly special! This one's worth all the towers of the Academy Magus combined. There has been foul magic worked here as of late!"

  "What is it?" King Eamon stared at the orb as if it were his doom. "Did he curse it to kill me, too?"

  "The Royal Seer's library was formidable," Gustobald said. "His scroll collection rivaled that of the Tower of Creation. Every school was represented: manifestation, enchantment, conjuring—and yes, even necromancy." He pulled out the scroll with the black ribbon, and even the Sentinels grew nervous. "This would have gone unnoticed if not for Miss Ives, had she not been trained to see it. But we are not speaking of necromancy today. We are speaking of fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear does not simply go away when we close our eyes; it grows, multiplies, until we've been in the dark so long we can no longer stand the light.

  "Necromancy didn't steal our prince from us. It was not necromancy that threatened to divide our kingdom. But through understanding has this plot been undone. As I have maintained from the start, Jasper yet lives."

  There was much excitement at the possibility. King Eamon had to shout to be heard above the roar. "Do you mean to say this is not my son lying here before us?"

  "It is Prince Jasper's body," Gustobald replied. "His soul is trapped within the glass of the orb before you. Your Majesty, today I fulfill my pledge. Today, I give you back your son!"

  With a grandiose gesture he swung the training wand and released a ball of force that split the orb. The two halves were reduced to shards as they struck the stone pavement. Gustobald puffed up his chest, satisfied with his own performance and a little put out when no one cheered for him.

  There were a few gasps at the broken orb, and most people looked to the king for guidance. Eamon didn't seem to care about the wasted gift of a traitor—no doubt the diamonds would be recovered and put to some use—but the false hope Gustobald had given him struck him at his center.

  "My son is dead!" Eamon shouted, clutching his breast. "Look at him!"

  Gustobald spun around to find Prince Jasper still lying in his casket. "Impossible." He staggered over to me, never pulling his gaze from the body. "Isabel. You say you saw this scroll beside a pile of glass?"

  "I did," I replied. "But you know I didn't read the scrolls. I wouldn't have been able to if I tried."

  "Even with the glasses?"

  "I didn't think to read them at the time. I trusted her."

  "Dead!" Eamon fell to his knees wailing, and the entire host knelt with their king. The Sentinels moved quickly to get the king back onto his feet. "Dead! I'll have your head, necromancer!"

  "It wasn't Xavier," I whispered. "It was Airlea. Xavier only tried to cover it up after the fact."

  Gustobald didn't hear. He was worrying about the king's ranting and the gathering guards. "Isabel. I think maybe we should—"

  "Hang on," I said, leaving my master in order to examine the jewel-covered box. I reached down and shut the lid, inspecting the gems, each one still glowing from the perpetual light trapped within. I turned the box in a circle, looking for one in particular. Sapphires and rubies there were plenty, even a few diamonds of extraordinary size. When I found the emerald star, the symbol of an astrologist, I celebrated a private victory.

  "It was Airlea," I said, returning to the necromancer. "She held Prince Jasper in the jewel of her crest. Her father must have made her give it away. That's why she was so angry the day of the gifting ceremony."

  Gustobald closed his eyes. "She kept him close to her heart, after all," he said in wonder as I reached for the wand. He handed it over reluctantly, but with a proud nod.

  The disturbance was spreading through the crowd; it seemed their anger might lead to a riot. Nevertheless, I took my time and aimed carefully to limit the damage to the other stones on the box. I destroyed the emerald in the first shot. When I turned to the coffin, the prince was already stirring. Prince Jasper put his hand on his head as he opened his eyes.

  The crowd was instantly silenced. King Eamon stared and trembled, unwilling to trust in hope for even a second. It was only after the prince sat up and stretched from his long nap that Eamon ran up to his resting place and took him in his arms. As Jasper's smile faded, so did mine.

  Accounts from those who witnessed the triumphant resurrection have it that Prince Jasper was overtaken with surprise at his unusual surroundings, but they didn't see what I saw. He spent far too long scanning faces, and the look on his own face was expectation, followed soon by confusion, and then a longing for someone that wasn't there—and never would be again.

  Chapter 24

  King Eamon was overjoyed at the return of his son. He held a public ceremony to declare the wedding would proceed as planned. Gustobald was the guest of honor, sitting at the right hand of His Majesty during one of the greatest feasts of Eamon's reign. No cup in the Silver Palace went dry that night.

  Despite my master's previous insistence that my role in the investigation was integral—to say nothing of the fact that I was the one who ultimately saved the prince's soul—I wasn't invited to the king's table. I spent the dinner with Inspector Raines, rejecting yet another of his ham-handed employment offers. I was appreciative of the inspector's good character, though I knew Gustobald would never forgive his recent capitulation in the face of adversity.

  Prince Jasper was somber throughout the affair, having not yet fully regained his appetite after the whole ordeal. King Eamon made grandiose speeches on his son's behalf, gesturing boisterously with his never-ending goblet of wine, but Jasper's attempt at stoicism was a flimsy smokescreen for the turmoil raging within.

  During the celebration, Gustobald received a large sack of gold for reimbursement of his expenses. By way of reward he was presented with the jeweled box that had once housed the celestial orb, though now it was filled with black shards and loose diamonds. We were invited to stay for the upcoming wedding but Gustobald politely declined, for which I was grateful.

  We traveled by ship on our return voyage to the academy, so I had plenty of time alone with my thoughts. I spent most of my time above deck, watching the distant dunes drift by. We stopped over in Songa's Cove and the Westerlies along the way, but the trip was blissful
ly uneventful. I made frequent attempts to contact Regina through the earring, but she never responded.

  I was waiting eagerly top deck when the first spires of the Academy Magus came into view. The Tower of Seeing shone brightly on the far side of the haunted forest, chasing off the ennui of the grey autumn day. By the time we landed at one of the few remaining docks still in use, I was ready to jump off and swim if it meant getting to shore sooner.

  I wasted no time dropping off our luggage at Gustobald's house. I cast a cleansing ward to remove the sweat and grime from my robes and my person. Then I grabbed my satchel—King Eamon had forced Meridale to return it, much to her dismay—and I was out the door.

  The appreciative mages of the Silver Palace had gifted me the set of First Sentinel's robes, though they stopped short of inducting me as an honorary member of their order. I may have lost my shapely form in the years since, but I don't mind saying I was quite fetching in custom-tailored leather.

  It was to be the last day I ever wore them, but they were necessary for the task at hand. I didn't bother taking Maker's Road. Instead, I cut across the grass directly to the Tower of Creation. Once inside, I passed by the scriveners busy at their tables, up the stairs to the second floor where I knew I would find Harper Lazrus bent over his beakers, wearing his ridiculous goggles and apron.

  "Harper!" I called out to him as soon as I entered the room, but he was nowhere to be seen. It wasn't like him to be absent in the middle of the day, so I walked over to his desk. His logbook was open, his quill uncleaned.

  "Miss Ives!" His amber eyes were wide in disbelief. He poked his head out of the storage room, then slid out and shut the door firmly behind him. "I thought you might have been gone for good. You never even said goodbye."

  "Sorry, I was—I'm really glad to see you."

  "What are you wearing?" he asked, eyeing me head to toe.

  "Oh, you know. Just something I picked up in the capital." I walked slowly but purposefully around the large sand bath in my way. "Do you like it?"