It had been a while since I had endured so awkward a journey as the one following Commander Glaive's reassignment.

I rode beside him at the front of our travel party, which consisted of myself, him, two Captains and their platoons, and- unfortunately- Doctor Hieronymous. A sullen silence had fallen over the Inquisition, uneasy and anxious; their leader, the man who had led them to such an enormous victory against the incredibly evil Necromancer (i.e., me), had not only betrayed them, but had sought to turn his own son into the very thing he had marched against.

My heart wept for them... a little, anyway.

Glaive held his head high. He was less messy than he had been on our first meeting; my guess was that the Queen's summons had been wholly unexpected. Now, he road at the head of our collective, atop a massive black charger that answered his every whim, every command, every touch. His expression was hard and grim... but Ashwin had hidden his pride well, too, along with his stupidity.

"I must confess," Hiero said, his voice carrying over the dismal silence of the march. "I am confused as to why the Queen requested I journey with you to such a lowly town as our destination."

"What, pray tell, are you unable to grasp about it?" I said.

"I am the Court Physician and Doctor," he said, scoffing. "Surely an investigation of this level merits the accompaniment of a lesser student or assistant than I? Any of my students could likely accomplish whatever mission awaits us at any of these backwaters."

"The Queen personally commanded your attendance," Glaive said sharply, without moving his head. "It is not your place to question a direct order from your Queen. If she says you're needed at the town of Clearwater, then you are needed. End of story."

I pursed my lips to keep from smiling, an action that came so rarely anymore as it was. I wasn't the only one, either; the petulant drop in Hiero's offended shoulders was so pronounced, several of the closest marching soldiers all had to quickly look away, trying to hide their own humor.

The second boon of such a sharp reprimand was that Hiero, sniffing disdainfully under his mask, decided to fall back through the ranks. It was meant as an affront to Glaive, but in reality, it was just a relief, even if Glaive didn't know it yet.

"Necromancer."

I tilted my head in his direction. "Yes?"

"I should like to go over the exact order of operations I can expect to go through once we reach our destination."

I paused. "You may ask either of your Captains, Commander. I am not your only source of information."

He turned icy, cold gray eyes turned to look into the green emerald flames of mine. He winced, but did not look away. "I asked you, Lady Isolde."

The use of my name surprised me- years of being called "Necromancer" by everyone save for the Queen had made it sound almost foreign. "I suppose so." I collected myself; Glaive was proving to be an unexpected player in the game, now that he had full control of the playing field. "When we arrive at the location, we will immediately be brought to the scene of the crime which we are investigating, which will have been magically preserved by the good Doctor's apprentices riding ahead of us. Hiero will take a moment to examine any bodies at the scene, report to us what he has uncovered, and then he will turn the body over to me. Assuming all is well, I shall summon the spirit of the deceased, we shall question it, it shall turn over to us the sordid details of its demise, and we shall make an arrest."

Glaive considered this. "How reliable is the responses of the spirits you summon?"

"A fair question, though harder to answer than you suspect. The quality of the spirit will rely on a number of things, and therefore, the quality of the responses we receive will be almost as variable."

"I require examples, please. I should like to have an idea on what I'm walking into; Her Majesty did not give me much time to prepare or study any given materials. I am walking into this nearly blind."

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He was putting that mildly- Queen Amaridae had followed up her congratulations with a request for us to examine a nearby hamlet, from which she had received very troubling tidings. We hadn't even had a chance to properly celebrate Commander Glaive's assignment. There were murmurings among those within the Inquisition that she had only assigned him because she was short on time.

I knew better. The Queen did not make uneducated decisions. She only pretended to.

"That is a fair request," I said evenly. "In one particular case, I arrived with Ashwin and the Inquisition at the scene of a particularly heinous crime in a small hamlet called 'Bywood'. The people were terrified; the utterly mangled body of one of their own had been found at the heart of the town."

"What was the first thing you did, upon arrival?"

"As has been done now, the Doctor's apprentices had gone ahead to magically preserve the body and the scene of the murder. When we arrived, no one was allowed to touch the scene save for the Doctor and anyone he directly requested, which generally, is and was no one. Ashwin and I moved to question the witnesses and the head of the town, which was just a spokesperson for the local Lord."

Glaive raised a single eyebrow, glancing over at me. "You questioned them?"

"Ashwin tended to use me to try to intimidate people into answering his questions quickly. I am not exactly easy to be around, and the average person generally has a desire to exit any proximity to me as quickly as possible." I shrugged. "Comes with the territory, I'm afraid. I summon the dead for a living; that's unsettling to any sane person."

I saw the corner of his mouth twitch, but there was no other outward response. "What happened next?"

"We gleaned very little from the man. Anyone who knew the youth said only that they were reckless and enjoyed spending time in the woods. Many believed it to be an animal that had shredded the body so badly, but there were rumors in the area among neighboring towns of a werewolf on the loose."

"A werewolf? There hasn't been one of those in the area in decades."

"That does not generally stop generational fears," I warned him. "You will find a near continuous fear of myths, legends, and ancient history in any of the small, outer towns, in particular."

"I see."

"We did quickly agree that the other youths her age were hiding something, but then the good Doctor had much to inform us of. According to him, the body was indeed torn apart, but it was impossible that it could be done by an animal, supernatural or otherwise. It was done entirely by a man."

"And then you summoned the spirit?"

"I tried to." I shifted. "The spirit was in hysterics. She did not yet understand that she was dead, but the sight of her body pushed her over the edge of understanding. She responded only in cryptic remarks, saying 'he who walks is the demon dog' and 'he called me his heart'."

Glaive's frown deepened. "That's not as straightforward as I was hoping it would be."

"It rarely is. The case with Ashwin was unique. Ashwin's son had gotten sloppy with his murders; up until that point, we couldn't locate enough of the bodies for me to be able to summon a fully viable spirit. Sir Mallory had been discarded in a rushed manner, likely because Lord Gallant had been about to be discovered."

"Is time a better variable for interviewing spirits?"

"Not exactly. The longer the body decays, the more likely the spirit is going to be ready to depart to the abyss, and as that time approaches, they begin letting go of their memories in their previous life. There are always exceptions," I added, "because no one spirit is similar to another, and there can be angry spirits that refuse to move on well after the earth has reclaimed their body... but for the most part, this rule is reliable."

"Right... so, what did you do about that girl?"

"Ashwin and I were able to deduce that the murderer was her father. She was not his only victim; I was actually able to discover a particularly angry spirit from some years past who was able to tell me, in full, the atrocities committed against her by the man. His daughter had come across him attempting to murder another youth, and in her desire to stop him, he murdered her, then threatened the other youths that if they spoke against him, he would murder them, too."

Glaive grew silent for a very long time following this. When he spoke at last, his voice was quiet. "You must see the worst of humanity, working for the Inquisition."

I stared straight ahead. "It is my lot. I am the 'Woman Who Nearly Destroyed the World', Commander. There are none who pity me."

He said nothing.

"Tell me, Commander, what do you know of our next destination?"

"Likely, I know as much as you. We are being called to a hysterical plea for help regarding some cryptic information about a murderer."

"Yes, but-"

All at once, as we rounded a bend in the road, the smell hit us. First the Commander and myself, and both our horses snorted in response to it- even mine, undead as she was, for no living horse would carry me. The Captains behind us immediately gagged, and there was a general clamor of disgust and alarm as the smell washed over the ranks.

"Gods," Glaive grunted, trying to control his expression as he hunched over his charger. "What is that?"

"I know that smell anywhere," I said. "It is rarely so thick as this... but that is the smell of death and decay. A lot of it. I believe we are about to reach our destination, Commander, and things are going to be a lot worse than we envisioned."