“He can rest easy with me. I’d never kill anyone.” Daire sighed. “I know he may not seem so, Sesto, but at heart, Ryquin is a romantic. Love will save us all, he says.”
The arrogant turkey. “Ryquin is full of wisdom, isn’t he?”
“He’s...” Daire smiled softly in reverie, but as it faded, his expression darkened. “He wants me to ask you about Jesstin.”
Sesto swerved to avoid a large cart full of live swine and cattle. “Jesstin?” Naturally, Sesto had noted the man’s interest at supper the night before—or whatever that was, for it was like no meal he’d ever endured. “What is this about?”
Daire stopped at the intersection of two market roads. “Ryquin knows he’s a necromancer, like me. But... not like me. His magic has a different source. He wants to understand the differences.”
“Oh, how interesting. Any reason why?” Sesto prodded. The other question brewing—and how long has Ryquin known this?—was too soon to ask. If the answer was anything other than since last night, then they had a far larger conundrum to dig out of than he’d realized.
“I... I don’t know.” Daire looked away, wincing into the distance.
He lies even though he knows he’s terrible at it. “That’s all right. I’m sure he has his reasons.”
Daire brightened. “He always does. Ryquin is very wise. He knows more than everyone here—except his father, that is. He should be pretor next, not that temptress Lexsea, but she has her father twisted around her dainty little fingers.” He grew serious. “And do not look into her eyes, Sesto. She can do things to a person. Make sure Jesstin knows too, before she turns him into her little marionette.”
The layers of that family, their world, were coming into focus. Sesto knew from his many years of stalking shadows at the Reliquary how important even incidental words could be. “I’ll take the advice to heart and ensure he does as well.”
Daire exhaled in relief. “She’s done enough harm. But Jesstin...” He clapped his hands together. “He can speak to the dead?”
Daire’s forthcoming, guileless way would not last without some reciprocation. Ryquin already had the easy answers anyway. “He can, though he’s not met anyone where we live who shares his gift, so in truth, he knows very little about this ability.”
“Oh?” Daire looked disappointed. “Hm. Ryquin thought...”
“Thought what?”
“It’s nothing.”
Sesto touched the man’s arm. “You can tell me.”
Daire lifted one shoulder. “He thought Jesstin might be the one to finally do it. To finally visit Infinita Mori.”
“Infinita what?”
“The netherworld.” Daire seemed confused at Sesto’s confusion. “Do you not believe in it?”
Believe in it? He’d never even heard of it. He still wasn’t even sure they were standing in the same world he lived in. “I’m... not familiar, no.”
“Oh.” Daire nodded to himself. “It’s where souls go after death. It’s supposed to be a place of transition before they are sent to the Halls of Ilyn, where they either spend eternity or reawaken and be reunited with loved ones. When the dead are still in Infinita Mori, we, the necromancers, can speak to them, but once they move on, they’re gone.”
“You said supposed to be.” There was no such fable where Sesto was from. “How long are they in... Infinita Mori?”
“Time is different there.”
“If you were to make it relative...”
“I couldn’t say. No one knows.”
“But it’s temporary?” Sesto wasn’t even sure why he was probing so hard. He pondered how to pose a question he was almost afraid to have answered. “There are far too many soul lumens for that, aren’t there? There are tens of thousands just from what we’ve seen so far.”
Daire made a noncommittal nod but immediately cleared it with a shake of his head. “Many years ago, someone cursed Infinita Mori. They turned it from a place of peaceful furlough into a nightmare of frightful horrors. The dead are supposed to travel the Mori until they reach the other side, but they can’t reach it anymore, so they cannot leave. It’s a terrible, terrible thing, and no one knows how to fix it.”
“Well, who cursed it then?”
Daire shrugged. “No one knows. There is an upside though.”
Sesto waited for him to explain.
