Tomas’s house was located about halfway between the poor houses on the city’s outer walls and homes of the wealthy, near the castle walls. Depressed and weary from his journey, Alfred was extremely glad to escape the dark and drizzling atmosphere and enter rooms that were warm and well lighted.
Tomas apologized to the duke and duchess and the earl for the modesty of the dwelling, which was—as were many of the dwellings in the cavern—built straight up to conserve space.
“My father was a minor noble. He left me the right to stand around in the court with the other courtiers, hoping for a smile from His Majesty, and not much else,” Tomas said, with a tinge of bitterness. “Now he stands around with the dead. I stand around with the living. Little difference between us.”
The earl rubbed his hands. “Soon all that will change. Come the rebellion.”
“Come the rebellion,” said the others, in a sort of reverent litany.
Alfred sighed bleakly, sank into a chair, and wondered what he was going to do. The dog curled up at his feet. He felt numb, unable to think or react of his own volition. He wasn’t a man of action, not like Haplo.
Events move me, Alfred reflected sadly, I don’t move events. He supposed that he should be doing something to bring about an end to the practice of the long-forbidden art of necromancy, but what? He was one man, alone. And not a very strong man or a very wise one at that.
The only thought in his mind, his only wish, his only desire, was to flee this horrible world, run away, escape, forget it, and never be reminded of it again.
“Excuse me, sir,” said the duke, coming up and touching Alfred deferentially on the knee.
Alfred jumped, and lifted a frightened face.
‘Are you well?” Jonathan asked in concern.
Alfred nodded, waved a vague hand, mumbled something about a tiring walk.
“You mentioned being interested in the history of our wars. My wife and the earl and Tomas are planning our strategy for sneaking away the prince. They sent me off.” Jonathan smiled, shrugged. “I simply don’t have the head for plots. My task is to entertain you. But if you’re too tired and you’d rather retire, Tomas will show you to your room—”
“No, no!” The last thing Alfred wanted was to be left alone with his thoughts. “Please, I’d be very interested in hearing about… wars.” He had to force the word out past the lump in his throat.
“I can only tell you about the ones fought around here.” The duke pulled up a chair, made himself comfortable. “Tea? Biscuits? Not hungry. Where shall I start? Necropolis was originally nothing more than a small town, mostly a place where people came to wait until they could move to other parts of Abarrach. But, after a while, the Sartan and the mensch—there were mensch back then—began to look around and decide that life was good here and that they didn’t need to move. The city grew rapidly. People began to farm the fertile land. Crops flourished. Unfortunately, the mensch didn’t.”
Jonathan spoke in a carefree, cheerful manner that Alfred found quite shocking.
“You don’t seem to care much about them,” he observed, gently rebuking. “You were supposed to protect those weaker than yourselves.”
“Oh, I think our ancestors were extremely upset, at first,” said Jonathan defensively. “Devastated, in fact. But it really wasn’t our fault. The help they were promised from other worlds never came. The magic needed to keep the mensch alive in this grim world was simply too great. Our ancestors couldn’t provide it. There was nothing they could do. Eventually, they quit blaming themselves. Most of them, back then, came to believe that the era of the Dying of the Mensch was something inevitable, necessary.”
Alfred said nothing, shook his head sadly.
“It was during this era, possibly in reaction to it,” Jonathan continued, “that the art of necromancy was first studied.”
“The forbidden art,” Alfred corrected, but in such soft tones that the duke didn’t hear him.
“Now that they no longer had to support the mensch, they discovered they could live quite well in this world. They invented iron ships to sail the Fire Sea. Colonies of Sartan spread throughout Abarrach, trade was established. The realm of Kairn Necros came into being. And as they progressed, so did the art of necromancy. Soon the living were living off the dead.”