The corpse stood, so Serenity decided to start with the basics. “What’s your name?” Anything was better than thinking of him as “the corpse.”

The corpse lifted its eyes from the floor and looked at Serenity. A flicker of thought seemed to pass through its mind; that was a good sign. “Emery Lane,” the summoner answered. “Or sometimes Ralph Lands or Tristan Patterson or-”

“Stop,” Serenity commanded. That was good name retrieval, though it was a little worrisome how many names the summoner had had. The question was how smart it was; that sort of over-answer could mean either very smart, trying to provide all of the relevant information, or very dumb where it didn’t realize one name was enough. Serenity hadn’t exactly specified what he wanted, after all. “Is Emery Lane your birth name?”

“No.” The undead didn’t say anything more. Dumb was the answer, then; an even vaguely smart undead would have answered with what the birth name was. Honestly, that was a good sign; it meant he’d correctly cleansed the undead. Serenity didn’t practice the type of undead-raising that created smart undead; the easiest way to do that was to trap the person who once had the body.

Well, it would be more accurate to say he didn’t practice it anymore. It belonged to a part of his life he’d rather not think about.

There were other ways to do it, but they were far more difficult than taking advantage of what was in front of you. The Final Reaper had created completely loyal undead servants that didn’t reuse the spirit of the beings they had once been, but that took a level of effort Serenity hadn’t spent on this body. The fact that it would follow orders and say what it knew was enough; he didn’t need something that could fight, much less something that could grow into even a limited Path.

Did he care what the man’s actual name was?

No, he really didn’t. He couldn’t do anything with it; that was best left to his mother and others who could figure out something from it. He wasn’t going to be tracing the man’s past or anything; he just needed information. Others could look for associates and see if it led to anyone else; Serenity just had questions the man could answer.

There were two paths to follow up on, the dark fire and why the man was here. They were probably related, but it was possible that the dark fire was “just” a dangerous empowerment and the man was here because he was powerful. That meant that the place to start was definitely with why he was here. “Why did you attack the base?”

The undead simply stared at Serenity. That was the problem with dumb undead; if it didn’t immediately line up with what they knew, they couldn’t draw conclusions.

Serenity tried again. “What is the last thing you remember before you died?”

This time, Emery answered. “I fell.”

That wasn’t quite what Serenity meant, but it was probably a literal answer. Dealing with literal-minded undead was a pain; he wanted to lead the undead backwards, but it didn’t work all that well on them. He couldn’t ask if the man remembered the fight; he’d say yes but it wouldn’t affect his later answers. “Why did you attack me?”

The undead didn’t answer.

Blaze chuckled. When Serenity looked over at him, Blaze pointed out the obvious. “You were in disguise. I don’t think he remembers attacking you. I think he remembers attacking Tom Cooper.”

Argh. Serenity should have realized that on his own.

At least it wasn’t difficult to come up with a new question. “Why did you attack the man who cornered you in this room?” The moment he finished the question, Serenity realized it might not have been the best question to ask; an answer was implied in the question itself.

“Tom Cooper knows about demons,” came the surprising answer.

Serenity glanced over at Blaze. He seemed just as puzzled as Serenity was, so Serenity turned back to Emery. “Why did knowing about demons mean you needed to attack him?”

“Anyone who knows about demons and is not … is not …” Emery wavered for a moment. “Is not something must die.”

Serenity recognized that glitch: it was the sign of a missing memory. The manner was odd, more like a precise removal than the randomized loss that physical damage tended to cause. There were a number of possible reasons for it, but it usually meant the memory had been blocked or erased before Serenity raised the zombie.

It probably wasn’t because of the brain damage; it was too precise. Instead, it was likely that it had been deliberately blocked. Serenity wondered if it was a deliberate defense against necromancers or if it had simply been intended as a means of keeping the man from talking accidentally.

Serenity couldn’t rule out either; this was Earth, after all, and it was fairly well known that Serenity was a Death mage. It was entirely possible that whoever did it was protecting against exactly what happened. On the other hand, it was also possible that it was a coincidence. Without more information, it was impossible to know. The only thing Serenity could say for certain was that whatever the memory wipeout was, it wasn’t triggered by the fact that Serenity raised Emery from the dead. He’d checked and there were no booby traps hidden in the man’s body.

How much more was missing?

“Why are demons important?” Serenity waited only a moment; he hadn’t actually expected an answer. “Who told you about demons?”

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Serenity half expected an answer from Emery’s childhood on that question. It was nonspecific enough that it could have meant anything. No answer came, which was revealing in its own way. Maybe a different line of questions would be better. “What are demons?”

“Demons are extreme states of mind given form.” Emery didn’t even have to think about it.

That wasn’t the way Serenity would have phrased it, but it seemed fairly accurate. “Where did you learn about demons?”

Once again, there was no answer. Serenity sighed and tried again. “How long have you known what demons are?”

Emery’s eyes narrowed for a moment; it wasn’t an answer, but it was enough to make Serenity give the zombie a little time to think. It took a couple minutes before he came up with a time frame. “A year and a half ago?”

Serenity knew that was probably not very precise. Most people were bad with time and zombies, especially dumb zombies, were even worse. In many ways, it didn’t matter; a year and a half meant it was after the Voice’s arrival but not long after, probably during the time when the Tutorial was running. That was true even if it was off by a few months.

One place the man could have learned about demons came to mind immediately with that time frame. It didn’t explain why the knowledge would be protected, but it would explain the way it was phrased, without reference to religion. “Did you learn about demons in the Tutorial?”

“No.”

That was interesting. Perhaps he’d learned it from someone who did learn about it in the Tutorial, but who on Earth would know how to restrict memories that early?

Well, Russ probably did. That meant Serenity couldn’t dismiss it as something learned from an invader, either; while that seemed like a possible source, it was hard to narrow down. Maybe he should ask a different question. “When did you learn how to summon demons?”

That brought another long pause followed by the same answer. “A year and a half ago?”

Serenity’s gaze flicked to the dead Wrath Demon. He gestured at it. “Is this the only demon you’ve ever summoned?” He expected the answer to be no, but it was a good place to start to prevent misunderstandings.

“Yes.”

Serenity blinked a few times and stared at the summoner. “Have you ever summoned anything other than that demon?”

“No.”

A summoner that had only summoned one creature? That was strange. “Where did the giant snakes come from?”

“...bred them for me.”

An incomplete sentence? Maybe the body was more damaged than Serenity had assumed. On the other hand, maybe that was supposed to be a name? “Who bred them for you?”

Emery’s mouth moved but no sound came out.

Yeah, that was definitely a partially missing memory. The zombie didn’t even seem to realize it was missing. The fact that it was once again centered on a person was a little too specific to be coincidental. “Where did you get the giant snakes?”

“I picked them up at the warehouse.”

That seemed like a good start. The next trick was to ask for more details carefully. “What is the address of the warehouse where you picked up the giant snakes?”

There was no answer, so Serenity sighed. He’d clearly picked the wrong question. “Did you have an address for the warehouse where you picked up the giant snakes?”

“No.”

That explained the silence. “How did you know where to go to pick up the giant snakes?”

“I had a GPS pin.”

Oh. Of course. Serenity would have to check for a phone; the odds of anyone remembering a specific GPS pin were almost nonexistent. That assumed it was even important; giant snakes might well be unrelated to both the demons and the man’s presence in A’Atla.

Which should definitely be the next question. “Why were you in A’Atla?”

“Investigate the tunnels. Kill, disable, or convert anyone inside. Find and release the stolen weapons.”

Stolen weapons? Serenity’s mind flashed to the Lost Vault. There were weapons there, but who would call them stolen? They were ancient. Worse, “releasing” the weapons implied something that could move on its own, which probably meant something other than the ones he’d seen.

Whoever sent Emery at least knew something of the true history of A’Atla, including something that seemed to be a secret, which made Serenity suspect that someone on the other side from whoever built the vault was behind Emery. That probably also meant they were on the side of sinking A’Atla again; that would explain the Voice’s reticence to tell people about the Vault.

While Serenity was thinking, Blaze walked up beside him. “What are your Paths? All of them.”

Emery didn’t answer. That was to be expected; Serenity hadn’t told him to answer Blaze’s questions. He’d have to repeat it for Blaze. “List all of your Paths, starting with your most recent one, by Tier.”

“Bonded Summoner of the Night Fire, Tier Five. Beastmaster, Tier One. Animal Trainer, Tier Zero.”

That was not enough Paths. Not even close to enough Paths. No wonder it seemed like there was a lot of that black fire stuff; if Emery had followed the normal route of at least three Paths per Tier to fill out his Attributes, it was somehow compensating for twelve or more missing Paths. If he ignored Perception, it might be only seven Paths, but it was far too few no matter how Serenity counted it. He’d felt a bit lower than a true Tier Five, but the difference between a new Tier Five and a completed Tier Four was tiny.

“I knew it was Night Fire!” Blaze exclaimed. “What other fire burns black?”

Serenity turned towards his friend. “What’s Night Fire?”

“An old legend,” Blaze answered glibly. “The god that created diehar was known as the Night Fire. He was hunted by the other gods who were envious of his skill and power. There are entire epics about his journey, but they all end with his escape or death. If he dies, it always turns out to be someone else who died, not him.”

That was not the happiest of legends to hear about someone who would probably be an opponent. It would be even worse if Blaze actually supported the Night Fire. “Do you actually approve of him?”

Blaze froze, shocked. The grin fell off his face. “I’ve never thought he was real. If he is …” Blaze shook his head. “He is not my deity, for all that other diehar pay at least lip service to him as the patron of the night.”

Serenity decided not to ask who Blaze’s deity was, for all that his words implied he had one.