The Empress of Beasts, page 26
part #13 of The Wandering Inn Series
“Let me get my files in order. All major events, right?”
“That’s right.”
“Need a copy?”
“No. Just give me a list. Oh—and tell me about any changes with the Runners.”
“Oh—”
Fierre bit one lip, then quickly hid her sharp tooth. She began shuffling information, organizing her report. The man paid well, after all, and she was delivering a quality service. More information than the other [Brokers] or [Informants] in Reizmelt, that was what Fierre wanted people to say! And as for Runners—she coughed.
“Well, I’ll get to world news. But in terms of Runners, there was a new Courier last month, and Rieve the Brisk suffered an injury while running. Leg wound; bad fracture. He may be out of commission for three weeks still. However, in Reizmelt, the, ah, Wind Runner is doing quite well. Are you aware of…?”
The man nodded impatiently. Fierre hurried on.
“Well, she achieved a Courier-speed run to Walta at the behest of Lady Bethal Walchaís, and just recently was hired by the alleged [Emperor]…”
The man’s eyebrows rose as Fierre recounted Ryoka’s exploits from greatest to least, embellishing her a bit. It was the least she could do to repay Ryoka, and talking up her reputation to everyone she met could only help her friend.
——
“Alright, enough about this Wind Runner. Who else?”
The man’s voice was impatient as Az’kerash listened to the female Vampire. The Necromancer listened with one ear, doing the same with four other [Informants]. This was easier; once this puppet was done, he’d find a secluded spot, dig into the ground, and wait until Az’kerash needed him again. Part of Az’kerash was satisfied to know Ryoka Griffin was alive.
But mildly. The Necromancer didn’t do anything as…mortal…as tapping his finger against the table, but the information dump of voices and his mental processing of it was tedious. War in Rhir. Scandal in this kingdom. The Titan’s game in Daquin gave him pause, but the Necromancer dwelled on nothing. It was all information and he processed it.
And then he was done. Az’kerash let his puppets excuse themselves. And but for a mugging of one of them, they were all heading back to their hiding places and he could relinquish control of them. He spoke out loud as his thoughts migrated back together.
“Few new artifacts in the world worthy of consideration.”
He meant to him, of course. The market was full of items any Gold-rank adventurer might want, let alone Silver, but Az’kerash had a limited list of things he needed. He mused as his thoughts went to his armory.
“The Heartflame Breastplate is tempting. Bea, you will monitor the [Messages] relating to the Thieves’ Guild. If it appears on auction, alert me at once. It is not worth straying near Liscor with…the Dragon. However, if it is stolen, I will retrieve the item from the [Thief].Yes. Rather than risk a bidding war with a Walled City or one of the Five Families.”
“Yes, master.”
Bea nodded eagerly. Az’kerash frowned, thinking of Teriarch. But again, only for a moment. He spared a thought for Magnolia Reinhart. Now there was a trove of treasures he would pay any sum for access to. A shame about the Reinhart’s ancestral vault, which he was naturally aware of.
If Magnolia Reinhart had been foolish enough to take anything worth stealing from her vaults, he would have expended every effort to take it from her. As would any [Thief], really. But the difference was that Az’kerash might consider starting a war with Izril once more to take the Crown of Flowers from her.
Ah, well. So much for that notion. The Necromancer ran down his shrinking list of concerns. Ijvani’s location was at the bottom of that list. After that, he would probably begin work on his undead creation again. But before that—
“The young [Necromancer].”
Az’kerash paused. And that was significant. In his unchanging castle, his routine, here was something unique. Something unpredictable. Az’kerash turned his head. And he whispered a word.
“Arise.”
Hundreds of miles away, a skeleton of a rat flickered to life. Green flames burned in the sockets and they beheld a room filled with bones. Az’kerash saw a young man, frustrated, stalking around a crude bone leg. The Necromancer paused. The scene surprised him. Perhaps it was seeing someone else perform necromancy, or the casual way Pisces was doing it.
He hadn’t even barred or locked the door. Someone could walk in and see him. And the window was unshuttered. Az’kerash focused on the vision through the rat’s eyes. His Chosen watched. Bea was speaking.
“Master, there is a contract for the Heartflame Breastplate if you are interested. An offer has already been put up by…”
She paused as Az’kerash held up one hand. Slowly, the Necromancer’s thoughts focused more heavily, abandoning other pursuits. And something like personality reemerged.
“Is he a fool? Or—no. This inn? [Absorb Recollections].”
He cast the spell on the undead rat. Instantly, Az’kerash’s mind was assailed by sights, sound. No smell, but everything the undead rat had seen or heard in the last three months. It would have overwhelmed Az’kerash if he hadn’t taken steps to enhance his mind. But his mind was already capable of filtering it, experiencing memories and processing them in a heartbeat.
And what he saw was—
“Pisces! Are you playing with your bones again?”
The door slammed open and Pisces nearly leapt out of his robes. He whirled as Erin laughed at him.
“Erin! Please refrain from your humorless jokes!”
The [Innkeeper] laughed. Az’kerash recognized her. And he felt—ire? She’d defeated him at chess. Curiosity—vanishing. Focus on the scene.
“Sorry, sorry! Your bones. And I just wanted to tell you that there’s food below! Hot dogs! Okay, sausage. Say, what’re you making?”
She looked at the undead Bone Horror that the young man was working on, and Az’kerash saw the uneasy expression. But nothing more. Pisces sniffed.
“If you must know, I am redefining the whip-variant of my Bone Horror, improving its capabilities and the length of the arms—”
“Gotcha! Bone stuff! Come down for sausages soon!”
Erin shook her head. Pisces stared as she walked off. He stalked over and slammed the door.
“That vacuous, inconsiderate—”
Memory. This time of a half-Elf, wandering in while munching on a bit of cheese.
“Pisces. Yvlon wants to know if you’ve got her handkerchief.”
Pisces glanced up as he scribbled on a bit of parchment.
“Why would I have her handkerchief?”
“She says you borrowed it. Remember, the nosebleed?”
“I washed it and gave it back.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“Huh. Hey, Yvlon, Pisces says he gave it back!”
“Then where is it?”
An irate woman wearing armor walked into the room. Az’kerash saw her scowl at Pisces as he sighed and pushed his chair back.
“Perhaps Ksmvr has it?”
“Why would he—”
“Wait, didn’t you lend it to him at breakfast.”
“Oh. Sorry, Pisces.”
The young man rolled his eyes. He pushed himself back from the desk.
“Gratifying as it is to be the first suspect—”
“Oh shut up. You stole my quill for three weeks!”
“—would you tell me how this looks? Aesthetically?”
Yvlon and Ceria stared at the parchment. Az’kerash pieced together another bit of memory from the future. Saw a face-mask made of bone. Both half-Elf and Human recoiled.
“Dead gods, Pisces, that’s horrifying!”
He looked quite pleased.
“It’s intended to be. A psychological effect. I intend to mount it on the Bone Horrors when we use them in combat. If I can adjust their faces—”
“Oh no you don’t. I’m not partying with one of those.”
“But the effect—”
“It’s bad enough we have undead attached to our team! Pisces! Can you imagine if someone sees us with that? Besides, who are you scaring? Mossbears?”
“I should imagine [Bandits]—”
The [Necromancer] argued. Ceria kept shaking her head.
“No, and no.”
“I worked for hours on this!”
He snapped at her. Yvlon sighed.
“I’m going to find Ksmvr. Ceria, I leave this to you.”
She wandered out. Az’kerash let the memory flick by. The half-Elf argued with Pisces, he tore up the parchment and she stomped out and then came back with some soft cheese and bread as an apology.
Flicker. Memory. The rat watched as Pisces worked, slept occasionally, as an Antinium entered the inn. But what drew the Necromancer’s attention was the little Gnoll who crept inside to scare Pisces from under the bed, his teammates who opened the door. The [Innkeeper]. None of them were [Necromancers]. But they saw the undead and accepted them.
“Strange.”
That was all Az’kerash said. The sight triggered a memory in him. An old recollection of another time. His past. But—he would have thought necromancy was regarded as abhorrent, at least in Izril and Terandria. Most of the world, now. He had caused that. But this—
Reality came back in a moment. Az’kerash’s thoughts sped back up, alerting him to the present. He saw the young man bowing in front of him. A courtly bow, an imitation of one he might see in a Terandrian court. Az’kerash blinked.
Without subtlety or nuance. A straight courtier’s bow, fluent, but not practiced. Different nations had a more elegant take, but that was perfectly functional. Pisces had seen the undead rat. The Necromancer paused, regarded him. And he spoke.
“Young Necromancer. It has been some time since we have last spoken.”
He saw Pisces raise his head. Az’kerash saw Pisces hesitate, and then reply carefully. Formally.
“I am overjoyed to speak with you, Archmage. And I humbly thank you for the tome. It has been most instructive.”
Az’kerash instructed the rat to swivel its head, taking in the room. He replied softly, absently noting the construction of bones. Piecemeal. The boy was using a piecemeal construction, rather than whole bones. He must lack for a supply, certainly of larger bones. And—he was working on a behemoth-type undead?
Ah, the book Az’kerash had given him. Perfecting Facets of Undeath, by the [Necromancer] Credeth. Pompous, certainly, but excellent in describing fundamental construction techniques. By the looks of it, the young [Necromancer] had failed to grasp the theory so far.
That was disappointing. But mildly so. The boy wasn’t Az’kerash’s apprentice. He was most definitely not in fact. They had an arrangement.
Pisces had encountered Venitra under the guise of Regrika Blackpaw during her disastrous pursuit of Ryoka Griffin. Unhappily, he had known Venitra for what she was and Az’kerash had been forced to intervene. He’d offered Pisces a simple deal: instruction for silence. The alternative would have been death.
This was simpler, for all it carried an inherent risk. But Az’kerash had exacted promises, bound by magic that Pisces could not break. And he had attracted the Necromancer’s attention. After all, Reiss was dead. A failure at the end. But Pisces might be a good replacement. An experiment at the very least.
Az’kerash frowned. But not one he intended to spend too much time on. He had already assisted the young mage with making Bone Horrors, and provided him with a book on necromancy. Indeed, Az’kerash had been quite generous, giving Pisces examples of his own creations. The [Necromancer] was specialized in bone-type undead, which was more difficult than simply reanimating bodies. However…
“What is that design, young Necromancer?”
The rat turned to the skeleton standing in the center of the room. It was similar to a basic skeleton soldier, but horribly, terribly flawed. The ribcage had been redesigned, creating some kind of…Az’kerash peered at it, but the rat didn’t have a good view.
“I gave you the designs of a more functional skeletal soldier. That is an alteration of my work.”
His voice was ominous. Pisces hesitated and licked his lips, but he did reply.
“Yes, Archmage. However—I was experimenting with the structure of your skeletal soldier. Of course, I mastered the basic form at once! However, in your absence, I considered modifying the central structure to create a projectile weapon of sorts…”
He was referring to the elongated limbs, and the reinforced structure of the spell bindings. It made basic skeletons that bit more deadly at little cost. Az’kerash stared at the ribcage.
“You spent three weeks attempting to redefine a bone structure I personally designed? One without flaw?”
Ridiculous. It was a foolish design as well, weakening the existing integrity of the ribs, which were in themselves a fairly effective design! And a projectile weapon? Pisces defended himself, and a bit of haughtiness leaked into his tone.
“Archmage, I believed it was worth the effort. You see, I had the thought that a skeleton might well surprise an enemy with a crossbow-like weapon, only built into the creature—”
He was interrupted by a sound from the rat. Az’kerash waved a hand in irritation, much to the surprise of his Chosen, who were only watching his side of the conversation. He spoke out loud, the rat copying his words.
“Ridiculous. There is no elasticity without sinew of some kind. I might applaud your ingenuity—I myself have considered such designs, albeit with spell and sinew—but with bone? You fail to understand what any novice [Engineer] would. The standards of [Necromancers] have fallen if you do not understand the basic principle of how crossbows work.”
Pisces flushed beet red at the criticism, and he hunched his shoulders. But he still talked back.
“Archmage Az’kerash, I believe I have completed such a mechanism.”
“Impossible.”
The Necromancer’s voice was dismissive. He watched as Pisces hurried over to his skeleton. The young man angled the skeleton’s chest cavity just to the left of the undead rat controlled by Az’kerash.
“You see, there is a small bolt inside.”
But it wasn’t going to fire. There was no tension. No string that could hold the force. Az’kerash sighed—
And he heard a snap, a crack, and a shard of bone blew past the undead rat’s head and shattered on the far wall.
From below, Lyonette looked upstairs and shook her head as Mrsha and her Gnoll staff looked at her.
“Just Pisces. If he breaks a window or damages a wall, the Horns will pay for it. Keep going.”
Inside the room, the Necromancer stared at the bits of bone on the floor. Then he looked up. Pisces was desperately trying to suppress a smirk. Az’kerash paused. More of his thoughts focused in.
“Remove the skeleton’s protective armor on one side of the body and turn it to face me.”
Pisces did, bones floating away and Az’kerash saw. Pisces pointed it out excitedly.
“You see, Archmage, my design is essentially an inner crossbow built into the torso of the skeleton. Obviously there is space if I miniaturize some elements. The entire bone structure shifts so, and thus creates a hammer effect here…”
“…launching your crude projectile out of the rib cage. That is not a crossbow. But similar in structure. Your terminology is off. But the design…”
Pisces flushed a bit as Az’kerash considered the effect.
“A single shot is all each skeleton would provide. And the design is quite complex. Pointless in an army given the cost to create such a skeleton.”
“Yes, Archmage. However, I have a limited supply of creations I can animate. And I do not create permanent undead.”
That was true. Az’kerash considered the skeleton. It looked ridiculous, frankly. He imagined them trying to aim. They would have to bend backwards to aim upwards, let alone swivel to target something.
“You would sacrifice the integrity of your skeletons for a limited advantage. And this chest-mounted firing mechanism would handicap the skeleton.”
Pisces nodded rapidly. He walked around the skeleton and lifted an arm.
“I am aware of the issues, Archmage. This is my proposed fix for the problem when I understood it. One arm. I am attempting to configure the bones in such a way that it can fire a single bolt of bone while keeping the rest of the corpse more or less natural to the body. If I can mass-animate skeleton warriors for instance, they would be quickly deployed with a significant hidden advantage…”
And fire one shot per battle. One sliver of bone, thrown from a miniature crossbow. Az’kerash considered that. Complex, perhaps needlessly so if you could give a skeleton an actual bow or crossbow. But it could go through an eye, take an enemy off-guard.
“It is still needlessly complex. But continue.”
Pisces relaxed. He sped around the skeleton, reconfiguring it.
“I also had plans to trap the body itself, Archmage, so that the entire body explodes outwards in battle. I had perceived an, ah, weakness in my team of adventurers. I had encountered the [Sinew Magus], a rather powerful [Mage] by the name of Grimalkin in the last week—”
“Grimalkin?”
Az’kerash paused. His eyes flickered, recalling.
“Ah. Of Pallass. That buffoon. He thrashed your team quite effectively, I take it?”
In physical combat, he was certainly capable of that. Pisces nodded carefully, repeating Grimalkin’s assessment. Az’kerash agreed, at least in part.
“Bone Horrors are not designed for power. Bones are, by nature, lighter than flesh. Had you specialized in Draugr, you would have the crushing force you seek. Assuming you armed your creations with appropriate equipment, such as warhammers. However, your weakness is not a lack of spell power in other fields, young Necromancer. You simply lack for two aspects: [Deathbolt] and your own force of undead.”
Pisces paused.
“You believe so, Archmage?”
Az’kerash felt another twinge of ire. Pisces was exceedingly humble in attitude, but his questions betrayed his skepticism. He spoke flatly.
