“Hecondemned your life, and, in the same breath, he became adamant that I must notprovide him with a weak vessel, in case his enemies in the Diet thought ofbetrayal.Oh, believe me, Isaac, if it were possible, I would have strangledhis soul, right through the machine.”
Thethralls kept their hands cocked with ice and fire.Zaria returned to Isaac’s side,keeping her poleaxe low to the floor.He had seen her athleticism, her speed incombat.He knew she could easily barrel through the crowd of humans.
If shecould get to the stage....
“Needlessto say,” the Bone Hunter said, “this was unprecedented.The Diet of Nine wouldhave fractured, if the news had spread.Your sacrifice would’ve violated everyethical principle the collective was founded to protect.All the dukes andregents that provide our autonomy would’ve demanded censure, imprisonment,execution.More importantly, if what lies in this darkened earth was ever madepublic, it would destroy the peace our forebearsstrived so hard to achieve.Every kingdom in the region would fall back to war,and the Scorch that came again would make the fires of hell seem a candle’sflame.”
Isaac’sgaze roamed over the metal extractors.
Glasscoffins.
Retentiontanks.
“Debateraged for days,” Berith continued.“Stunningly little of it was about you.TheArchons were solely concerned with the reports of what your father discovered.The consequences of making it public knowledge.”He glared down at Isaac.“It’samazing how quickly people murder their fellows, if they stand to gain from it.It happened to your father.It happened to the Archons.”
“Happenedto you, too,” Zaria said.
“Not bychoice,” Berith replied.
Shesnorted.
“Thus,”Berith said, “in the end, they agreed.They would meet your father’s demands.Half of the Archons could barely supinate their arms to sign a document, letalone a casting.All of them were riddled with gout, blindness, infirmity.They were political creatures, creatures ofhabit and want.So, of course, they agreed.”
Hefolded his hands behind his back, still pacing.
“And,of course, it was not enough.It would’ve never been enough.Before you hadeven dried from the blood of your mother, some of the Archons approached mewith an offer.A conspiracy within a conspiracy.They wanted to claim the prizeof this tomb for themselves, and they did not want the rest of the wizards toknow they were violating the deal.They wanted to kill your father in secret,to snatch the prize of this tomb before the rest of the Diet would kill it withregulation.And I, alone, was perfect for the task.”
Thebones on his robes twisted and crawled.His eyes glowed, and thirty pairs ofeyes responded in turn.
“Aparasite,” Berith said.“A necromancer.Oh, how the darkness can fester.”
“Youspecialized in necrotics,” Isaac said, feeling some need to argue.“You’ve ...that was always your specialty.Does this mean....”
“I havethe same inheritance as your father.”
“Adual-specialist.”
“That’sright, Isaac.I could divide my skill, just like you.”
“Why?”
“Why?”Berith echoed.“Why can we train ourselves?”
“Whythis?”Isaac asked, gesturing at the thralls.“Why would you choose to dominatethe innocent?”
“Becausethat’s already what I was doing.”He looked at the thralls himself.As heroamed from face to face, there were hints of recognition.“Because I may beone of the most renowned hunters of necromancy this side of the wasteland, butthe sheer mass of your father’s necrotics would have posed an insurmountablebarrier.It was a question of energy, not skill.The need was for ammunition.Ineeded an army.”
Hisgaze lingered on the flowing hair of a human girl, close to Isaac’s age.
His jawclenched.
“BecauseI was a college professor,” Berith said, “and these students trusted me.If Iled them away from their families, I could claim it was merely an expeditioninto the Charnel, and no one would bat an eye.Not even if they died.”
He wentsilent.
“Becauseif you only care about yourself,” he said, “it’s always easier to seizecontrol, rather than allow the choice.”
Zariaglanced at Isaac, saying nothing.
