Once An’s ghouls finished packing up the necromancer’s machinery, they strapped on their loads, and the whole group left the makeshift shelter. Trudging through the foul chemical rain, they proceeded to Shorinstown and the citadel at its center. Kano kept close by An’s side during the journey. She didn’t think she’d actually try anything out here, but staying nearby made her distrust more bearable.

Once they were inside the limits of Shorinstown, Sherp went her own way with scarcely a word to anyone. Kano didn’t blame her. She’d be happy to be rid of present company if she could, but there was still work to be done. Much as she might hate it.

She kept her eyes open in case anyone decided to attack the necromancer walking openly in their midst, but the ghouls ignored their group or avoided them. They encountered not the slightest opposition as they passed through the town. Now that Shorin was gone, no one seemed interested in resisting any new rulers.

They were nearing the citadel when Himin moved beside Kano and said, “I should probably make myself scarce.”

“Why?” Kano replied. Things seemed peaceful. Had she missed some sign of danger?

“This necromancer might be all rainbows and sunshine, but her lackey said she’d kill me if she saw me around here again.”

Kano shrugged. “Guess I’ll see you later, then.” Her entourage had grown large enough as it was, so she was happy to lose a member or two. Himin looked like she wanted to say something more but instead she just slipped away into a side street.

They left her behind and found Miusvon waiting to receive them outside the citadel. After hearing Miusvon’s explanation that the citadel was under control and she could start working immediately, An hurried off with her assistants. Kano let her go for the time being. It was sure to just be a lot of boring unpacking and preliminary work, nothing Kano needed to concern herself with.

“So,” Miusvon said, once the necromancer and her servants were inside, “you’ve decided to work for An, then?”

“I’m not working for her. But I did agree to come along and keep an eye on what she’s up to. It was either that or kill her. And I’m kind of curious as to where she’s going with this lunacy of hers.”

Miusvon’s expression tightened, and her eyes grew hard. “I suggest you speak with more respect when you’re talking about Angakkuq. She’s trying to accomplish great things. What right do you have to mock her?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Kano wasn’t afraid of Miusvon, but she also wasn’t looking for a fight, not over something so trivial. “I’ll keep my mouth shut about her.”

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“Good. Maybe you have more sense than I gave you credit for. For what it’s worth, I’m happy to see that you’re at least giving her a chance.”

Giving her a chance wasn’t quite how Kano would have put it, but it would do for now. “When did you start working for her, anyway? And why?”

Miusvon blinked. “When? I forget the exact time. It’s been a few years now.”

“Years? But I thought you were working for that other necromancer? The one I killed.”

“Gresitosis? No, that was just part of me helping Angakkuq. They were working together, at least to a certain extent. Maybe it’s more accurate to say Gresitosis was pursuing his own research and Angakkuq was giving him a helping hand in exchange for using that research to benefit her own work.”

“And? Was it helpful?”

“Apparently, though I wouldn’t really know. I can’t say I understand much of this stuff.”

So An’s work must be somewhat similar. “What about the children that Gresitosis made?” Kano asked, managing to get the name right for once. “Does An intend to use them for anything?” She hadn’t gotten that impression, but it was worth making sure.

“Not as far as I’m aware, and it’ll probably stay that way. I’m pretty sure that element of Gresitosis’s work was a failure as far as An’s concerned. And it sure seems like she’s right—they don’t strike me as much use to anyone.”

Kano could hardly disagree with that, but she was relieved that they were of no interest to the necromancer. Maybe she wasn’t actually that bad after all, at least compared to Gresitosis. But that probably wasn’t saying very much. Kano was still far from convinced that she wouldn’t be better off just killing An and being done with it. Especially since this was starting to feel like a lot of work.

“Why do you work for An, anyway? Do you really think she’ll make the world a better place or something?” Even though that was what the necromancer herself had claimed, it still sounded ridiculous when said aloud.

“Honestly, I’m not totally convinced she will. But the way I see it, she’s the best chance we have of making anything whatsoever. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but everything around us is dying. Including us.” Miusvon paused as a thought seemingly occurred to her. “Except for mold, I guess. But that doesn’t exactly help any of us, unless you’re secretly some kind of mold person.”

Kano recognized that Miusvon was making some sort of attempt at humor but opted to continue staring back at her.

“Anyway, as I was saying, people are dying out. It’s a slow process, but it’s also pretty inevitable. Angakkuq is the only one who can offer us even a chance of changing that. So, no, I don’t think she’ll make the world a better place. I think if she’s successful, she’ll allow the world to keep existing, at least in a sense that matters to us. I think that’s the best we can really ask for at this point. We can worry about making things better once we’re not on the verge of extinction.”

Kano was a bit taken aback. During her brief association with Miusvon, she’d never seen her this serious. In fact, she could barely remember having met anyone who showed the kind of dedication and commitment she seemed to have to An’s cause. The only people she’d seen with that kind of hope were necromancers, enamored with their mad designs for the world.

Kano found it energizing to see someone who genuinely seemed to care to such an extent, but it also served as a warning. Just because Miusvon really believed it, that didn’t mean it was true. Kano would have to decide that for herself. She briefly considered asking the opinions of her largely silent companions and nearly burst out laughing. No, she wasn’t quite desperate enough to ask them about such a weighty issue. If she was having trouble coming to grips with it, then they had no chance whatsoever.