Asheron's Fall: The Power of Ten, Book Six

Speak with Dead was only a Valence III, so I had no problem Slotting it. In service to Truth, it was considered White Necromancy, because it only asked questions of the dead, it didn’t enslave them. It was a mandatory spell for the Priests of Harse who embraced His aspect as the Judge of the Dead.

It could be abused, by taking advantage of the dead to make them tell you things they would never have done so while living, but it didn’t otherwise bind or control them. The actual spirit of the dead was almost never involved, just a shadow of them empowered by the vivimancy of the spell.

A Salute to the Morning, which the Scouts all participated in now after experiencing the real benefits of it, and they got back to their butchering while I Meditated on spells. After that, I then set up the simple ritual, Shaping the tools needed from the local stone.

I was not coming into this with hostility or force, so there should be little resistance. Indeed, Justice was first and foremost on my mind, and the remnants of his spirit should be fairly keen to avenge himself.

“Ian the Foefinder, Ian Ninetoes, Ian of the Radiant Blood, Ian of the Rossu Mortu, Ian of the Royal Scouts,” I intoned, Lord Mick helpfully supplying me with the names of Ian’s past, things he might be tied strongly to and identify with. “Rise up, old bones, stir from your rest. Your heart is unquiet, and there are final matters to attend. I will help you set things at ease, and then you can sleep until all is quiet.”

Magic both dark and light swirled under me, death magic that didn’t inflict death, speaking with the departed. Positive energy gave life to the remnants left behind, and slowly something rose out of the ground in the shadow of the cottage where I’d set up, staring at me for a moment with the blank eyes of the dead.

He’d been a tall, broad-shouldered man, shaven bald, with scars on face and eyes, his self-image preserved despite his body mummified and rotting below us.

“Nod if you recognize the man behind me.” It wasn’t a question, it was up to the spirit, and it nodded after a moment’s hesitation as it studied the Mick. “We have discovered your body, and the fact you have been murdered. Our intent here is to find out all the relevant facts we can about your death, and bring your killers to justice. Nod if you understand this.”

Again, not a question. Voluntarily, he nodded his spectral head after another moment.

“Ian Ninetoes, if you would relate to us the circumstances of your death, as a Royal Scout would so report?”

The coming response could be incredibly literal, incredibly misdirecting, incredibly terse, or quite verbiose, depending upon the spirit.

Empowered by the spell, the spirit spoke, “My squad was in the abandoned Vesayan Overwatch settlement, taking cover for the night as we prepared to pass back to Mayoi, and then press north to investigate an undead incursion into the woods surrounding the Deru Tree at the Viridian Rise. I was taking my turn at watch, the second night shift, the other three members of my squad were resting. I sensed just the faintest shadow of a presence before something grabbed my jaw, and all went dark.”

I glanced back at the Mick. “Well, I gather ye didn’t make it to the hills near Baishi where the undead were said to have caught and killed ye, Ian,” the Mick remarked laconically, clearly not discomfited by the presence of the spirit, who looked reassured at the remark.

“Master Ian, to the best of your knowledge and ability, why would someone have murdered you?” I inquired calmly.

The spirit’s hesitation and the expression crossing his incorporeal face indicated there was more to it than what was obvious.

“There are two reasons I may have been killed. One, Aisley Swiftfoot was contesting with me for a higher position in the Royal Scouts hierarchy. She is a ruthless woman who is not above eliminating her competition if it will serve her aims.”

And he paused.

“Continue,” I ordered, not making it a question, not letting him delay and let the rest of his answer fade. He was compelled to order, could feel my will behind the command, and could only helplessly continue on.

“I had been getting information fed to me by a Handmaiden of Xik Minru on the movements of the undead.” The words came out unwillingly, but they did come out. “I did not solicit nor seek out such information, but for some reason the Handmaiden chose me to receive it. The information was both clean and timely, and I never encountered her in the flesh, only a sending, but it may have been witnessed regardless. If someone had observed me receiving such information from the loathsome thing, it may have been reason to think I was a pawn of the undead and remove me.”

The Mick grunted behind me, clearly a little surprised by that, but not overmuch. “Well, ye did have all kinds of sources, back in the day, Ian,” he said without judgment, and the spirit’s troubled expression eased slightly.

“What, if any things would you like us to accomplish to set your thoughts and soul at ease?” I asked, not lingering on the fact.

Spectral eyes flickered. “See my killer brought to justice. Ensure that my name is not blemished. I would desire that you tell Prince Borelean that I was proud to serve under him, that my Loyalty in no way was compromised, and I was faithful to him and our people until the end.”

I nodded, as did Lord Mick. “For the sake of completion, if you would name the members of your squad who participated in covering this up, and those who might have known of it?”

The spirit of Ian Ninetoes rattled the names off, none that I knew of having been mentioned before, possibly peers of the Mick who operated solely on scouting endeavors and not on training the younger folk to do the job.

The Mick’s grunts indicated his complete lack of surprise at the mention of the three names, although the additional four drew a frown from him.

“Is there any other matter you care to bring to our attention before you go, Master Ian? Something that will otherwise die with you?” I asked him, preparing to let him go.

“The Deru Trees are the greatest impediment to the undead taking control of the ley line network of Dereth, and the Viridian Rise is the greatest of the Deru Trees of Dereth. You cannot let them take control of it.

“I… have a stash in the forests outside of Kryst. Potions, and gemstones, and pyreal, such as I was able to scrape together over time. It is located at…” he mumbled things about trees and buildings and paces, and the Mick nodded along, doubtless following mentally.

“I’ll see that it gets to your daughter, Ian,” he grunted.

Spectral eyes widened as a smile bloomed on the spirit’s face. “I have a daughter…” he whispered, and if there was sublime satisfaction on his face as I released any hold on him, his eyes closed, and he was allowed to dissipate. I was plenty sure that at the end, the peace coming from him wasn’t for doing his duty to his chosen lord.

I reached out to pound the Mick’s hip lightly. “Well-timed, and well-done, Lord Mick,” I told him quietly.

“Aye, I been keeping tabs on her and her mother, there in Kryst. She’s a baker there, makes excellent trailbread, an’ I be a steady customer. Mayhap we can stop by, give her fair value for Ian’s little retirement fund.” He shook his head slightly. “Strange, but she never mentioned those three ever visiting her when I stopped by. Just the roaches an’ me, as it were.”

“Well, you’re all a bunch of self-interested arseholes. Am I correct in judging those three are Web or Blood?”

“One Blood, two Web. Chulie had a nasty reputation among us, wanted to take anything not moving. If ye shared monster loot drops, he’d suck it all in for himself, and be more about the looting than the fighting. Odd that he’d not share the wealth so much after, however.” His face was deadpan flat. “Nudik were assumed to be a Tanada agent working fer the Web. Klover were known to have absolute lust fer magical power the undead might give her, wanting her own undead servants and the like, and ta live forever.

“I’d not trust a one of them with me gold or life if a single coin were on the table. Speakin’ from the point o’ not being too different from them meself during me heyday,” he pronounced dryly.

“What of someone judging him for the undead stuff?” I asked.

“Possible, but not that lot. They’d’ve blackmailed him instead, looking fer an angle to profit from. Me thoughts be that they were bought off, or mayhap even warned off, or both, as someone brought in an assassin t’ off Ian. He were a skilled scout, weren’t no normal killer going to be able to take him out. Especially with a knife.”

He had an odd look on his face, a shadow of worry that wasn’t there before. “You’re thinking you know the assassin?”

“Knife-work kill on a Scout master? I be thinking Oswald the Green Hunter his own self, aye,” the Mick admitted.

“The same one who killed that banderling Gertarh permanently?” I remembered.

“Aye, the same one. Considered the best assassin in Dereth, not that a number of them weren’t trying for his head. Especially after he an’ Nuhmudira had their falling out after him what failed to kill Queen Elysa at Nuhmudira’s order, an’ him taking all the heat an’ her none o’ the blame. He hadn’t any use for Web or Blood after that, an’ he used to take out whole teams o’ agents on both sides an’ send ‘em to the stones, just to remind everyone that he was still out there. Kind of a learnin’ experience for a lot of folks, especially once they realized he could have made sure they didn’t go to the stones.”

“That would be a rather bloodchilling lesson in proper manners. Yet he took the time to kill Ian? Are you sure it was him?” I had to ask.

“Not at all, it could be someone near his skill level. He had some rivals who never got a wake-up call on how many people loved the Queen back then. I’d heard he’d stopped taking contracts, but that didn’t mean his peers did, nor any students he might have had, an’ he did have a few o’ those, too.

“But if there were a killer who’d off Ian for dealing with undead for no coin, Oswald would definitely top me list.”

“You’re just a bundle of welcome news, Lord Mick. Am I to hazard by your words that there is an actual assassin’s guild or the like in Dereth?”

“Aye, there is. Some o’ them made the trip from Ispar an’ brought their ways with them. I be imagining a number o’ them died during the Fall like all else, an’ a number o’ them survived an’ are making their services available. P’raps even t’ the undead, who do like their easily bought-off pawns an’ minions. Huh...” He blinked and glanced away.

I could see where his thoughts were taking him. “You’re thinking it’s possible that one of the undead realized Ian was acting on ‘good information’ from somewhere, and so paid an assassin to off him, the pawn of one undead taking out the pawn of another.”

“It be their way, a tit-fer-tat usin’ lesser beings t’ shift the playing board around. If that were the case, it weren’t Oswald, as he had less use fer undead than fer dirt on his feet. He might even find the time t’ kill the fool takin’ pyreal from the undead, after what were done t’ us by them.”

“If that is true, then there’s also the possibility of a deeper game at play, one meant to draw him out… and we aren’t seeing all the pieces in motion,” I noted.

He grimaced. “We’d have to find the killer… or what’s left o’ them.”

“And I’m thinking that there’s a trio of fellows who’ll point us in the right direction, although you may have to drag them out to the Shoreward, prop them in front of a hungry remoran, and ask your questions while pointing out the Shoreward doesn’t stop corpses,” I acknowledged.

“Huh. An’ they won’t have any idea when or where I’ve made it back t’ the islands, if’n we’re not usin’ the Portal.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “Ye said before ye can look inta the hearts of others an’ see their Color, like lookin’ through the Door.” He didn’t tap the side of his head, but he thought it. “This lot?” he asked, throwing a thumb over his shoulder at his students and subordinates, still working busily away and chatting softly as they did.

“You made some good choices, Lord Mick,” was all I said. He smiled in relief, and turned away.

“I’m going t’ talk t’ them about some things we might have to do in the night t’ protect our own.”