Maggie returned to the room then, the little girl’s hand in hers. “She’s probably with Haven,” she’s telling the animated corpse. Her voice is gentle and motherly, and there’s a loving sparkle in her eye. Nausea rolls into my throat and I close my eyes, trying to fight it down. I can almost feel Simon’s disapproval. I try to remember what he had told me about necromancy, and about how it was the magic of offering the choice of death, not bestowing a curse.

“Oh, aww. I guess I’ll just have to spend the night then, Granny.”

“Alright, go on and see Charles. We’ll get you sorted out for the trip back tomorrow. I’m sure she’s just exhausted.”

I open my eyes to see the little zombie girl roll her eyes. “She’s always with them.”

Maggie rubs her back. “We all need our friends, love. And she’s been through a lot the last few weeks.”

“Friends,” the girl pouts. “Okay, I’ll go home. See you soon?”

“Yes, sweetie. I’ll be along shortly. We just have one more,” Maggie smiles apologetically at me. I must look as green as I feel because she hurries the girl more quickly across the room and to the door.

She catches the door frame and turns to catch my eye. I feel something shift in my soul, as if she sees through me. She gives me a wicked smile, and I realize I hadn’t imagined her words earlier. But she doesn’t say anything, only turning and disappearing into the night.

“Sorry about her,” Maggies says after the door closes. She returns to me and nods to the opposite side of the room. “Are you about ready?” she asks me.

I feel shaken up, but I gather my strength and nod. “Simon?” I ask.

“Already asleep, luckily.”

I stand and follow her from the room and down a short hallway. She opens the door into a small room where Mathieus sits hunched over his knees. He straightens when we enter, a dark rim around his eyes. Maggie closes the door behind us. The room is small with green carpet and blue walls, and a large map takes up the majority of the north wall. There’s a sofa and two chairs around a small coffee table in the center. Mathieus gestures at the sofa. “Last one?” He smiles at me.

I try to smile back, but I’m still disconcerted from my interaction with the little girl, so the movement feels strained. I sit on the plush couch, wiping the sweat from my palms onto my knees. Do I tell them half truths, or would I tell them the whole story? What would they do if they learned my identity? Would they kill me here?

“Last one,” Maggie affirms, sitting in one of the chairs.

Mathieus sets a small vial of milky white liquid onto the table between us and crosses his fingers. “This is a truth serum. One of my more potent blends. It’s from the same batch those before you have taken. It causes fairly drowsiness once it wears off, and there may be a short period of time after that you find yourself blurting out what’s on your mind for a few days afterwards,” the alchemist explains. “It’s going to taste bitter, and it may cause some headache in the morning, like you’ve had a fun night out,” he shrugs, “Nothing too bad.”

“Of course, you still can back out,” Maggie tells me. “We will not force the potion down your throat. If you drink the potion and leave the room, we won’t chase you down.”

“Do you have any allergies?” Mathieus asks me.

“Not that I’m aware of,” I mutter reflexively, as though he is the court physician and I’ve been asked this a thousand times.

She gestures at the vial. “Whenever you’re ready.”

I smile weakly at her, “No chance that I can answer your questions without it?”

She cocks her head, “Depends,” she said. “Are you going to lie?”

I consider that. “No,” I tell her, “But I don’t think you’ll believe me.”

She smiles sadly at me. “If it’s all the same to you, then,” she gestures at the vial in indication.

I hesitate, and close my eyes, bracing myself. Nausea rolls over me again, and white flashes behind my eyelids. “I need to know something,” I say, finally.

“Yes?”

“You’re going to jump to conclusions,” I hear myself say. I open my eyes and catch Maggie’s gaze. “We are going to be here awhile, I think you’ll have a lot of questions for me. I just ask that you do not kill me once you hear what I have to say.”

“Are you a criminal?” Maggie asks me, eyebrow raised.

I scratch my chin. Was I? I hadn’t broken any laws, technically speaking. I was a tyrant, though. “I guess that just depends on how you define criminality,” I admit. “Some might say I’m the worst in Led. I’m chief among them.”

She frowns.

Mathieus’s fingers tap along his knee. He clears his throat. “I think you ought to take the serum, boy.”

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I wince and nod, scooping up the small vial. I unstopper it, and before I can persuade myself otherwise, I down it all. I wince at the acrid aftertaste and set the empty vial on the table.

“I think you’ll want to lay back,” Mathieus suggests, and I do.

“Thank you, that does feel better,” I tell him, my mind slowly sharpening into a pinpoint. “How strange,” I mutter. “I can hear myself think.”

Maggie chuckles. “Not like that for many of us.”

“No,” I agree, “I don’t think I’ve heard my own thoughts in…” I start counting on my fingers, “At least six years,” I grumble. “Not since the war.”

I catch Maggie giving Mathieus a look. She clears her throat and sits forward. “Can we start with your name?”

“Tony,” I tell her. “That’s what they’re calling me lately… I like it better.”

“Better than?”

“Antonio,” I tell them simply.

“You mentioned the war, were you a part of that?”

At first, I feel genuine warmth in my body at the thought. Pride, embedded deep within me. “Oh yes,” I say, and then I remember the dead eyes of soldiers staring into the sky and my mood immediately darkens. “You could say I’m to blame for it.” I scowl at the ceiling. “I’m the youngest in my family to ever manage such a conquest. I can’t help but be proud of that… and yet…” I shake my head. “It wasn’t good.” I feel tears welling in my eyes, and I touch my fingers to them in a test, staring in surprise at the wetness.

“Tony?”

I sit up and fold my hands. “War is an awful thing,” I tell Maggie. I shake my head fervently. “I shouldn’t have pursued it so half-heartedly. And then… when everything went so smoothly, I should not have been so proud. And yet…” I struggle to find the words, even as the truth serum floods through my veins. “There’s a word for it. Foolishness doesn’t begin to reach the depths of it.”

Maggie doesn’t respond, but her green eyes pierce through me.

“You look frightening,” I tell her, point-blank.

“What is your name?” She asks me again.

“My whole name?”

Mathieus nods.

“Alejandro Antonio de la Cardenas,” my name rolls off my tongue like an old friend, and I remember my mother’s voice scolding me in the distance, as if coming from a different life. A different time. I feel the tears well in my eyes again. “It’s been a long time since I’ve heard that name.”

I look up and see both of them watching me, their gazes guarded. “You’re going to kill me,” I say aloud.

“That depends very much,” Maggie mutters, her voice low and angry. “On how you answer your next few questions.”

I swallow, “You are scary.”

“Good.” Maggie gathers herself. “Do you mean Reisau harm?”

“No,” I shake my head adamantly.

“Beastmen?”

My mouth falls open in surprise. “Absolutely not,” I tell her. “Simon told me about the bloodlines, and Tols–well, us T-boys stick together, he said.” I feel myself rambling. “No,” I repeat, and find heat rising to my cheeks. “I think he means a lot to me, Tols. I think I like him around.”

“I didn’t ask you about Tolstoy.”

My eyes meet hers. “I didn’t mean only Tolstoy,” I clarify.

“Do you mean harm to those who sympathize or partake in the ancient magicks of necromancy?”

I frown. “Yes.” I shake my head. “I mean. No. Not exactly.”

“What do you mean?”

“Sybil Whitman,” her name falls from my lips. “Did she turn that little girl?” I ask, feeling myself grow angry.

Maggie cocks her head, surprised. “Sybil?”

“The necromancer that bought us,” I told her. “She’s the last on the list.”

They both stare at me. “The last what?”

“The last necromancer,” I explain. I find myself growing frustrated. “Did she raise that little girl without her consent?”

Maggie’s eyes narrow into slits. “No.” She tells me. “No, that isn’t how necromancy works.”

“She wanted to be alive?” I ask.

“Yes.” Mathieus tells me.

“Then no,” I shake my head. “No, I don’t mean harm.” My face twists into a scowl. “I’m not used to it all the way,” I admit. “But no. I don’t mean any harm.”

“What is your goal?”

“My goal?” I ask. “What do you mean?”

“You could have walked out of here, us none the wiser. Why drink a truth serum and reveal who you are to us?”

“Protection,” I say easily. “Someone made me disappear,” I tell her. “I don't know why, I don't know what their intentions were. I intend to find out.”

“Why would we offer you protection? We could kill you now and be done with it. All of the pain you've put our country through. It would be easy.”

I nod. “It would be. But you won't.”

She scowls. “Why do you think that?”

“Because I'm your best bet at setting things straight. For giving rights back to beastmen and necromancers. For bringing peace.”

The drowsiness is starting to kick in, and Maggie's face blurs just a moment so I cannot read her expression.

I hesitate. “I hope you don’t mind my saying, but I really hope you don’t kill me.”

“How did you end up in that prison cell, Antonio?” She asks instead of responding.

I squint, trying to make the objects in the room come into focus. “My personal assistant, Luis.” I frown. “He did something to me. He came at me with a knife.” The events from that night swim together in my memory, an hazy artifact as incongruous as the room around me. I shake my head. “I don’t remember anything after that, only that I woke up and Simon helped nurse me back to health.” I grimace. “I didn’t want to give up power to my father. I did not want to give Led to my brother.”

“Why didn’t you want to give it to him?”

“Pride,” I explain, waving my hands around. “It was my conquest, my tour, my glory. My brother wasn’t on the battlefield. He didn’t travel around the country meeting with the people of Led. Didn’t hear their wishes. They were from the outside, and I was beginning to believe that I, too, was one of you.” I shake my head. “Admittedly, I was talking to the wrong people.”

“You think?” Mathieus scoffs and I think Maggie shoots him a look because he falls silent.

“So what now, Tony?”

“Work,” I tell her. “Pay my dues. Build an army.”

“An army?”

I nod, and roll onto my side, propping my heavy head up on my arm. “Allies. If I’m going to change–no, fix what I did, I will need help. I will need allies, and with allies, I get an army.”

“You want the town of Reisau to go to war with you?”

“No.” I tent my fingers. “I want Sybil Whitman to go to war with me.”