Anger flushed the prince’s pale skin. Edmund started to say something, bit off whatever hasty words he might have spoken.
“You were right and I was wrong,” he said instead, after a frowning pause. “Are you pleased to hear me confess as much?”
“Your Highness misunderstands me,” the necromancer said gently. “I didn’t mean—”
“I know you didn’t, My Friend.” Edmund sighed wearily. Exhaustion drained the color from his thin cheeks. “Forgive me. Please excuse us,” he had just the presence of mind to say to his guests, and walked hurriedly over to where the corpse of the king was conferring with the corpses of his subjects.
Haplo made a motion with his hand and the dog, unnoticed, trotted along behind the prince. The living in the cavern had fallen silent. Exchanging grim glances, they began hastily packing away what items they had brought out to aid them in their meager meal. But, when they could turn their attention from their work, their eyes fixed on their prince.
“It isn’t honorable for you to spy on them like that, Haplo,” Alfred said in a low voice. He glanced unhappily at the dog, standing at the prince’s side.
Haplo didn’t consider the comment worthy of response.
Alfred fidgeted nervously, toying with his bit of uneaten fish. “What are they saying?” he asked at last.
“Why should you care? It isn’t honorable to spy on them,” Haplo retorted. “Still, you might be interested to know that these dead, who are apparently scouts, report that an army has landed in the town.”
‘An army! What about the ship?”
“The runes will keep anyone from coming near it, let alone harming it. What should concern you more is that the army is marching this way”
“An army of the living?” Alfred asked in a low voice, seeming to dread the answer.
“No,” Haplo said, watching Alfred closely. ‘An army of the dead.”
Alfred groaned, covered his face with his hand.
Haplo leaned forward. “Listen, Sartan,” he said urgently, softly. “I need some answers about this necromancy and I need them quick.”
“What makes you think I know anything about it?” Alfred asked uneasily, keeping his eyes averted.
“Because of that handwringing and moaning and whining you’ve been doing ever since you saw what was going on. What do you know about the dead?”
“I’m not certain I should tell you,” Alfred said, lowering his bald head between hunched shoulders, the turtle ducking into its shell.
Haplo reached out, caught hold of the Sartan’s wrist, and gave it a painful twist. “Because we’re about to be caught in the middle of a war, Sartan! You’re obviously incapable of defending yourself, which leaves your safety and mine up to me. Are you going to talk?”
Alfred grimaced in pain. “I’ll.. . tell you what I know.”
Haplo grunted in satisfaction, let loose of the man.
Alfred rubbed his bruised flesh. “The cadavers are alive, but only in the sense that they can move around and obey orders. They remember what they did in life, know nothing beyond.”
“The king then…” Haplo paused, not quite understanding.
“Still thinks of himself as king,” Alfred said, his gaze going to the cadaver, to the white head and hoary locks crowned with gold. “He’s still trying to rule, because he thinks he is still the ruler. But, of course, he doesn’t have any conception of the current situation. He doesn’t know where he is, probably thinks he’s back in his own homeland.”
“But the dead soldiers know—”
“They know how to fight, because they remember what they were trained to do in life. And all a living commander has to do is point out an enemy.”
“What are those spirit things that follow the cadavers around like their shadows? What do they have to do with the dead?”
“In a way, they are their shadows, the essence of what they were when they were alive. No one knows much about the phantasms, as they are called. Unlike the corpse, the phantasm seems to be aware of what is happening in the world, but it is powerless to act,”
Alfred sighed, his gaze going from the dead king to Edmund. “Poor young man. Apparently he believed his father would somehow be different. Did you see the way the old man’s phantasm fought against returning to this corrupt form of life? It was as if it knew—Oh, what have they done? What have they done?”