The rest of the day passed without much in the way of events. Relma took this to be a good sign.

Granted, people were awestruck. Relma spent a good deal longer healing some ailments. New wounded arrived from other battlefields, and a man hurt himself plowing. But overall, Relma had an ordinary day and slept peacefully until that morning.

As Relma awoke the next morning, Quxillang woke her, tossing a traveling pack at her. "Relma, get up; we have a journey ahead of us."

"Where to?" asked Relma, rising quickly.

"To the realm of Durag, of course," said Montazus, standing some way away with some of his men. "I have communed with the Emperor, and he has dictated that your plan is to be given a trial."

"Oh, good to know," said Relma, who hadn't been expecting much else. Then she looked at the pyre. "Do they ever bury those bones?"

"Of course not," said Montazus. "The bones remain in the pyre until they become ashes and are cast away by the wind. Such is tradition.

"Durag shall meet us at the gates."

And they were off, further into the highlands and away from this fertile region. As they walked, Relma glanced back to the village. She then realized that William had spent all this time doing this thing regularly. And she doubted very much that he'd been given nearly so awed a reception.

Relma probably never would have started doing it if she hadn't heard he was doing it. That wasn't to say William wasn't far too proud for his good. But it disturbed her a bit that he at least appeared to have more empathy. Then again, Relma was the incarnation of an Angel of Virtue, not kindness or compassion.

Speaking of which, Relma wanted to know exactly how her actions fit into all this. Had she been destined to hijack the prophecy, to begin with? Or had she willingly chosen to try and hijack it against what she was supposed to do? Perhaps she, the Angel of Virtue, had been intended to bear the son who became the Heir of Kings. Only she went into it with ulterior motives and planned to take that destiny for herself all along.

And did Relma Artorious exist? Or was she just a mask that the angel herself believed in?

All these questions seemed destined to have very depressing answers, so Relma chose to ignore them. Instead, as they walked into a great valley with many black trees, she looked to Montazus. "Where are these gates?"

"Not far," said Montazus. "At the far end of this valley."

The black trees, however, became more and more like claws as they walked. They seemed to be grasping at Relma. The grass at their feet caught on their boots and sandals, trying to drag them down. And the sun, far above, was becoming a baleful green.

"The land is changing..." mused Relma. "What is this?"

"This is the domain of Envy. Or part of it," said Montazus. 'Durag's realm exists in a place connected to the hells of Envy."

"Right, because Lucius is the Demonic Archon of Envy, of course," said Relma. She remembered Aunt Pan's lessons. "Are they connected at all?"

"Lucius and Durag are aware of one another, but they rarely converse to my knowledge," said Montazus. "Though he may well be doing so without our knowledge. Durag is effectively the reigning demon of Envy within this place. However, I do not think he has formally ascended.

"The man is a monster, and you may prefer to have been burned on a pyre than meet with him. At least pain can teach."

"What does it mean to ascend into demonhood?" asked Relma, letting the latter statement pass.

"It is a black ritual that willingly transforms your soul into that of a demon," said Montazus. "Pantera went through such a spell. You raise your soul fully into hell without being consumed by it.

"In doing so, you can take on a form of mockery of the Gods. You may create avatars that contain only a fraction of your true self. Perhaps even incarnate in new lives. Yet all of those lives will be drawn invariably toward your demonic self.

"It is a trap of sorts.

"And those who fall into it badly deserve the snare. Even Durag wasn't enough of a fool enough to take it."

"You don't seem to like Durag," said Relma.

"Of course, I don't like Durag," said Montazus. "He has no time for true wisdom. And if he ever succeeds, the Sun Soul Empire intends to put the lights out."

Relma stared at him. "Really? What's so bad about his ideal world?"

"Some things are worse than death," said Montazus. "Or else it would never have been made as a solution."

"As opposed to forcing people into eternal torment?" asked Relma.

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"I shall gladly give my soul to what you call torment. As will everyone else in the Sun Soul Empire," said Montazus simply. "I have many pains in my being from years of life, and they have brought me greater wisdom. All spirits who are fed to the sun shall likewise come to wisdom.

"And wisdom is far preferable to pleasure.

"Here we are."

Relma decided she did not understand Montazus at all. There were elements of him she did, but she was not enough of a fool enough to think she knew it all. For now, she withheld judgment as they came to the gates.

They were simple metal doors. There was no trace of rust or wear on them, and there was no adornment. In front of them, Relma saw a skeletal figure floating in the air, shrouded in what looked like a cloak of shadow. Its face was thick and had two bull horns on either side, and skeletal hands were behind its back. At the center of its bony forehead was a bright red gem.

"Greetings to both of you," said a raspy voice. "I am Durag, and I wish to personally welcome you to my domain. It would be my utmost pleasure to give you a tour of my operations if you wish."

Relma was not surprised at the greeting. Most undead she'd met had been very polite. She would have been more surprised to find him coarse and rough. "I'd like that.

"However, I must communicate with those north of my contacts to prevent a war from breaking out."

"Of course," said Durag, nodding. "Follow me, and I shall bring you to a room to facilitate your communication.

"Montazus, will you accompany us?"

"I have been recalled to the Empire," said Montazus. Word has come to me that Pantera has begun a new series of killings, and I am needed."

"I understand," said Durag. "Follow me, Queen Relma."

"I'm not a Queen," said Relma. "And if I ever become a monarch, I'll be a King."

"Hmm, why would that be?" asked Durag, opening the door.

"Anoa the Bright thought that absolute power should have only one word," said Relma. One of his actions was insisting that there would be only one word for a given thing. He tried to rewrite the language and simplify it, but he never fully succeeded.

"But he created a trade language that most people use when traveling. He was very insistent that the absolute monarch of Harlenor United was a king. Whether they were a girl or a boy. Though we've never actually had a female King."

"Fascinating," said Durag. "A logical concept. Would Princess, then, be a preferable title?"

"Just call me Relma," said Relma. "That name suits me best."

"As you wish," said Durag.

The door opened, and they walked into halls lined with metal. There were no torches, only spheres emitting light. All of them were placed at set intervals, with no decorations. Durag led her along these halls, and Relma saw that each way through the caves had a sign leading away.

"May I ask why this place is plain," asked Relma.

"Plain?" asked Durag. "Ah yes, the lack of ornament or decoration. I suppose it must seem odd to someone from the outside. My clan and I much prefer practical building. We adhere to a... utilitarian philosophy. We do not waste time on decorations that could be spent on tools or weapons."

"Well, it must be far easier to clean," said Relma, looking at the floor and finding it very clear indeed. On the way, she passed a bleached white skeleton mopping it.

"Very much so, which saves us more time," said Durag.

Then they came to another door. Durag drew out some keys and opened them. Beyond was a room where many bleached white skeletons were doing their tasks. They seemed to be experimenting with chemicals.

"Your servants..." said Relma, wondering where the dwarves were.

"Yes?" asked Durag.

"Well, I just noticed that the undead here are... well... all bleached white and bare," said Relma. "There isn't any blood or anything on them."

"Another practical element," said Durag. "Undead we're using as infantry and defense forces generally die very quickly. And the blood and guts tend to scare people and help things.

"These, however, spend their time performing tasks that require sanitation. Thus, we drain the blood and remove the flesh before reanimation."

"Ah, and how do you do that, exactly?" asked Relma before kicking herself for asking the question.

"A somewhat complicated ritual," said Durag. Thank Elranor, he had taken her to be asking about the spellcraft. "A large part of it is motivated the spirit within the corpse to cooperate. The plane of Envy is very helpful in this regard; many of the souls we use are drawn from hell."

"So the undead are the spirits of the damned?" asked Relma, feeling a bit sick.

"More specifically, those who were fed to Diabolus," said Durag. "We find they are in no position to bargain and rarely of any real sanity. So it's a simple matter to manipulate them in exchange for a temporary escape."

"That's kind of you," said Relma, feeling more than a little disturbed. "I'm told you wanted to meet with Wrynncurth. Why the interest?"

"Wrynncurth was always something of an inspiration for me," said Durag. His voice held a bit of emotion as he came to a final door. "He is, after all, one of the great necromancers of the world. I'd always wanted to meet him and compare notes. Especially with how he has a wholly different approach to the creation of undead."

"What makes you say that?" asked Relma.

"My associate, the cyclops Akar, brought back several of Wrynncurth's bodies. They amaze me," said Durag. "They are the work of a true artisan compared to my own."

"What would you call your own?" asked Relma.

"An assembly line," said Durag. "I prefer quantity to quality, as numbers have a quality of its own. The more of something you produce, the more of the innate flaws in the design you pick out."

"Ah, yes, may I ask something else," said Relma.

"Of course," said Durag.

"Why do the Conquista hate you enough that they send people out on quests to destroy you?" asked Relma.

Durag looked up in what might have been bemusement. "Ah, that question.

"Well, the truth of the matter is that my people in Highwatch used to be allied with the Conquista. When they first came to these lands, we fought together against the Sun Soul Empire and the Dragon Empire. During those days, the Conquista had holdings all across the mainland.

"In my days as a mortal, I arranged for the breaking of our alliance. What they view as a breach of trust led to the loss of their territory to the Dragon Empire."

"Why did you break the pact?" asked Relma.

"A man has no obligation to any nation save his own," said Durag. "We stood to gain more by an alliance with the Dragon and Sun Soul Empires than we did by staying with the Conquista. So we turned on them.

"It led to a series of defeats and the decline of their empire.

"I gather they felt their mission of fighting their way to the Pass of Dragon Bones had nearly been complete. In any case, I have no regrets."

"Are you still part of Highwatch, then?" asked Relma.

"I am... associated with Highwatch," said Durag. "A tenuous alliance, more so than I'd like."

"But you said men have an obligation to their nations?" asked Relma. "Why is it tenuous?"

"Not everyone within High Watch understood the need for my actions," said Durag. "You have a call to make." And he opened the door.