117. Reunions

Mortimer wasn’t inside the shop, as Isaac had expected, but instead stood outside. The half undead man carefully flipped over the old beaten sign hanging over the store’s foggy windows to the “Closed” side. Through the glass, the interior of the building was dimly lit, appearing as nothing more than a mass of vague shapes, obscure shadows, and clustered tables and shelves. It seemed that during the time Isaac was away from the Underside, Mortimer’s shop hadn’t grown much in popularity.

The half-undead man turned before Isaac had the chance to call out, as though sensing his presence. His expression was as blank as always.

“Hello,” he said in a deadpan voice. Isaac was acutely aware of Mortimer’s eyes staring at him, and even though nothing in his body language or voice gave it away, he got the distinct feeling that the man was judging him. He didn’t blame him for it, either.

“Hey.” Isaac cleared his throat. “It’s, uh, been a while.”

Mortimer nodded. “It has.”

His voice was flat, and Isaac exhaled. There was no point in waiting, so after a moment’s pause to consider his words, he launched into his apology.

“Listen, I’m really sorry about leaving without saying anything. I was worried about the killings and got in an argument with Lilith and ended up forgetting everything else, but that’s not an excuse. I still should’ve come back and explained what happened.”

“Okay.”

Isaac paused mid sentence, mouth still hanging open. His jaw clicked shut, and he squinted at the half-undead man, whose expression hadn’t moved a fraction.

“…You’re not mad?”

Mortimer shook his head, silently brushing stray dust off his hands and only half succeeding. “No, I’m not. I’m glad you told me what happened. I was worried you’d gotten hurt.”

In some ways, the man’s easy understanding and seemingly endless patience just made Isaac feel even more guilty. He shifted his weight and cleared his throat.

“Uh, I got your message from Fable. About the ceremony in the Graveyard, I think it was.”

“Ah, so they did keep their word.” Mortimer looked pleased at that, eyes brightening just a little. “Yes, I was hoping you’d join me.”

“What is it?” Isaac asked, curious. The half-undead hummed in consideration.

“It’s a parade.”

That certainly hadn’t been what Isaac was expecting. “Graveyard” and “parade” were two words that didn’t really fit together in his head. He blinked, and Mortimer raised an eyebrow slightly.

“The ceremony is called the Dance of Greys,” he clarified. “It occurs rather infrequently in the Graveyard.” He nodded at Isaac. “Very few outsiders have ever seen it.”

Though his words remained flat and blunt, Isaac suspected this event was a much bigger deal than Mortimer was making it out to be. “Infrequently,” to someone as long lived as the half-undead man was, implied a very, very long span of time. This was likely a once in a lifetime opportunity for someone not from the Graveyard. Something warm bubbled in Isaac’s chest, and he found himself feeling oddly touched at the gesture.

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“I’d be happy to go,” he said sincerely. “If you’re really sure.”

Mortimer frowned. “Of course I’m sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I just meant I hope it’s not a problem if, like, a regular living human goes,” Isaac tried to explain. After the last encounter with Paradise’s gate, he was much more wary of intruding on realms where he might not be welcomed.

“Ah, that’s what you mean.” Mortimer nodded. “You’re a friend, so it will be fine.” His voice slowed a little, eyes contemplative. “And I think it will be helpful for you.”

Before Isaac had a chance to ask what he meant by that, Mortimer opened the door, the hinges creaking and rattling, and slipped into the store proper. He was outside again in a few seconds, carefully holding a small cloth bag in his hand that he handed over to Isaac.

“It’s from Igor,” he explained. He cocked his head. “He’s away right now, but he asked me to give it to you if I saw you.”

Isaac carefully held the bag. It was very light, practically weightless, and its contents rustled a little when he moved the fabric. Slowly, the Traveler undid the drawstrings and reached inside, pulling its contents out. His eyes widened.

Within the bag was a single blooming flower. Isaac carefully lifted it up to the light, making sure not to touch the petals. Under the realm’s red sky, its soft pink color appeared darker. The petals themselves were densely coiled, fanning out from a center core in rippling waves. He recognized this plant. It was one of the ones he’d seen in the vase in Igor’s house—the flower type the man had said was his daughter’s favorite.

Isaac brushed a finger against one of the petals, finding it soft to the touch. It was perfectly bloomed, no drooping or wilting in sight. Igor must have used his plant growth skill to keep it so well preserved even when separated from its stem. He couldn’t imagine how exhausting that must have been, especially when Igor wouldn’t have known when or if Isaac would return.

“I didn’t realize those flowers still existed after the Collapse,” Mortimer remarked, studying the plant as well.

“I don’t think they do.” Isaac held the blossom almost reverently. It didn’t feel right to put it back in the bag, where it might get jostled. “Igor gathered the last of them.” And he’d decided to give one to Isaac.

The Traveler paused, glancing over at Mortimer. “Do you mind if I keep this in the store until we get back? I don’t want to smush it while we’re on the train.”

The half-undead man nodded, opening the door and gesturing for Isaac to go inside. He pointed to the counter, pushed away in the farthest corner of the dim space.

“You can keep it behind the counter,” he said. Isaac nodded gratefully, striding forward.

Mortimer’s store looked the same as he remembered, its long tables still covered with miscellaneous trinkets and pocket watches. The combined smell of dust and metal permeated the space, and the dull lighting made everything look a little less saturated than it really was. After the vividness of the red Solonell City sky, Isaac found the more muted hues a welcome reprieve. His shoulders relaxed a little as he set the blossom down. The soft pink stood out starkly against the dark wood.

In the front of the store, Mortimer waited patiently, looking up when he saw Isaac walk back over.

“Are you ready to leave?”

Isaac gave the store and the flower a final glance, then turned to the half-undead man again and nodded.

“Let’s go.”

—

It turned out they weren’t the only ones on the subway car. A few humans sat scattered about the plastic seats, and a group of three small demons circled each other, leathery wings flapping as they darted about the space. Isaac found himself following their movements, reminded of Olzu. He’d never seen the demon fly as freely as that. He wondered if he would’ve eventually reached that point with more practice.

Isaac lowered his gaze, fingers clenching at the memory of the demon. He pushed the thoughts back down.

The train lurched to a stop, and the Traveler glanced up to see that they’d paused in the red line station. His shoulders tensed, remembering his last interaction with Lucius. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to look at the realm quite the same after that.

The doors slid open, and around them, the few other passengers on the train car got up and exited, leaving just Mortimer and Isaac. As expected, the Graveyard wasn’t a particularly popular stop, he thought idly.

“We should be there in a few minutes,” Mortimer remarked. The train started again, lurching in a familiar bumpy rhythm.

Isaac nodded, peering out the window at the dark tunnels in growing anticipation. Soon, they would reach the Graveyard.