In the face of such an immediate and shockingly disappointing outcome to what must have been several years of broken, uneducated planning, Lord Ashwin of Rivaine, High Commander of the Inquisition, sat down in the dust and stared.
The silence was deafening.
"Captain," I said finally, turning slightly in his direction. "Would you please arrest Lord Ashwin? I do not believe you'll receive much in the way of resistance."
"My son," Ashwin whispered, too stunned to hear me.
The Captain stepped gingerly around me and began to recite the words required of us in the face of any criminal undergoing arrest, however little Ashwin was hearing them. He removed the magically inscribed ropes of binding and began to tie down the Commander, but it was almost funny how little it seemed to be needed. Ashwin barely reacted, and he had turned a nasty shade of gray. Even the Captain- a man whose name I couldn't recall, and whose face I would likely forget in a very short while- seemed a little startled by the lack of response.
"Captain," I said, when he had finished. "You will want to contact the rest of the Inquisition outside for proper transport."
The Captain looked at me, blinking owlishly. The soldiers behind me looked almost as lost.
"We will be escorting Lord Ashwin to the Queen's Court," I said, as if the man's world weren't shattering all around him. "We need to begin procedure now, Captain. Doctor Hieronymous will doubtless be pleased to learn he is now the officer with the highest ranking here."
"Ah. Right," he said, before beginning to issue orders to his small unit.
We had expected an easy arrest with Ashwin on our side. Too bad he had been half the perpetrator.
I began to step past Ashwin, intrigued by the far table in the corner that his son had been leaning over. The shadow remained drawn over it, trembling in its desire to remain hidden. Ashwin said nothing, but quiet tears streamed down his cheeks.
Idiots reap what poisoned seeds they sow, I thought.
The table was cracked from the explosion earlier, but surprisingly, it was none the worse for wear. I passed a hand over the shadow, green flames flickering against it in the Necromancer's arcane version of a knock. There was a shockingly small squeal, and then the shadow dropped at once, the figure popping up in a terrified jerk and throwing herself back until she knocked her head against the wall.
I stared, appalled.
Gallant had been about to sacrifice a child.
Too-large eyes, black as the deepest shadows, were set in a starved face that stared at me in abject terror. Her hands shook, and her hair was so matted and dirty that I couldn't tell the original color of it. Filth obscured most of her features, and there were scars all up and down her arms.
I felt a familiar sensation I didn't like to admit to: Heartbreak. The girl had an aptitude for the arcane, but she had been horribly misused, likely spending her days scrounging for food and hiding from those who wished to use her in the Lower End.
"Who are you?" Her voice cracked; her lips were too dry. "What are you going to do with me? The man, he was going to- he wanted to-"
"He's gone," I said, trying to regain control. I wanted to comfort her... but I was the Necromancer. I was the Woman Who Nearly Destroyed the World. I couldn't comfort a newborn goat, let alone a beaten and starved child. "Abyssus took him."
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She flinched. "I hoped he would. I knew he was mad."
I arched an eyebrow. "You knew that Abyssus was mad?"
"Yes. I could sense him. I tried to warn that man, came all the way from the- the Low End, because I felt him... breaking things. He was breaking the world. It was gonna be bad."
I ran through a list of options in my head. Either Abyssus was her patron, which was a terrifying concept and might explain the beatings she'd been given if anyone else so much as guessed at the truth, or she was too highly attuned to the Otherworld and could see through the veil, like me, but without the training. Figuring out which could be difficult... but neither was going to win her any favors among the common people.
Not after my blunders.
"Come, child," I said softly, holding out a hand. "We will take you to Queen Amaridae."
She flinched away from my hands, but then looked up into my eyes. For the first time, though it was no surprise to me, I found I couldn't see any of the ghosts that haunted her, if indeed, any did.
"You are the Necromancer," she said finally. Her black eyes slid past me for a moment. "Abyssus is grateful to you. He has peace now. I can hear him again- when I get too scared, it gets hard for me to listen."
"He can keep his thanks to himself. I want none of his favors." I flexed a hand. "Come. The Queen will help you."
She turned back to me. "How do you know? No one wishes to help me. When they realize what I am, they hurt me."
I tried to consider how old she was. She was small, but that could be lack of nourishment. She spoke in a childlike manner, but that could be lack of education or social interaction. She could be six... or sixteen.
"Everyone wants to kill me," the girl added in a small voice. "I knew the man wouldn't listen, but I had to try, and he wanted to kill me for it."
"Queen Amaridae won't," I said firmly.
"How do you know?"
"She didn't kill me, and I'm the Necromancer. I summon the dead as a hobby."
She thought about that, and then, finally, she took my hand. "Abyssus says you are not one of his, but he likes you."
I glanced sidelong at her. "Are you and Abyssus very close?"
She gave me the shadow of a smile. "Oh, yes. He teaches me things in my dreams, and helps me not to be alone, since mama and papa died."
I winced. Her patron is the god of the dead. This was shaping up to be a headache. "What did your mother and father die of?"
She slipped her hand out of mine, fear replacing the brief shadow of happiness. "It wasn't me."
"I didn't say that it was, child."
"It was... plague."
I thought for a moment. There had been a plague recently that had swept through one of the towns along the Pale Coast; Hiero had had a field day with that one, practically drooling at the mouth at so many corpses to study.
And people thought I was the dangerous one.
"How old are you, dearest?" I said softly, guiding her from the room and ignoring Ashwin entirely.
She thought, puzzled. "I don't know. I've been around a long time."
My skin prickled with sudden intuition. There's a moment before you realize that you've discovered more than you bargained for, where you feel as though you're stepping up to the edge of a great, yawning precipice.
This was that precipice.
"What was the plague like, if you do not mind my asking?"
"Mama and Papa turned such a horrible green color. There were boils that erupted, and frogs everywhere... the frogs were scared. We all were, but the frogs brought the plague, and it was such a horrible sickness... I couldn't save them, but I could make it easier for them..."
I stopped short. A plague involving frogs? I knew this plague. There had only been the one, because I'd helped put a stop to it... all of two centuries ago.
"Child," I whispered, staring at her. "Did you make a deal with Abyssus?"
"I just wanted to help my village," she said mournfully. "It wasn't exactly what I asked for... but he answered. I can help people pass, so they don't suffer anymore... if they let me. I can tell if they're going to get better." She looked up at me. "People don't like having me around. They think I kill people... but I don't. I just... make the pain go away."
My mind was reeling. Why now? Why all of a sudden? Why after all this time was my past coming to haunt me? These tales were meant to stay with the dead, these memories meant to remain buried.
Just what was this little girl?
Her head was tilted. "Are you all right, Lady Isolde?"
I shouldn't have been surprised that she knew my name. "Abyssus?"
"Yes. He likes you. You play fair." She smiled. "My name is Tally. Can I stay with you?"
"Of course," I said, before looking up to find that we had caught up with the Inquisition.
A sense of foreboding settled over me. There were no coincidences when you were someone like me, in this world. Queen Amaridae would need to hear of this, indeed.