I just got back from a quest like that, and I’ll be damned if I’ll go to hell
again for a while.”
“How’s that again?” the Hell-Hound frowned.
“Nothing. Just a little joke. What I mean is, I think we’ll have better luck
simply animating his corpse and asking what the problem is.”
“His corpse,” Zalbar echoed hollowly.
“… Of course, someone will have to fetch it. Do you know where he’s buried?”
“In the garrison graveyard north of town … the grave’s clearly marked.”
“Good. Then you’ll have no trouble finding it. As soon as you bring it here, we
can …”
“ME?” Zalbar exclaimed. “Surely you can’t expect me to dig up a grave.”
“Certainly. Why not?”
The thought of digging up a well-aged corpse … any corpse, much less that of
his friend, horrified Zalbar. Still, he found himself strangely reluctant to
express his revulsion to this woman who spoke so lightly of animating corpses
and trips to hell.
“Um … I’m Hell-Hound, part of a royal retinue,” he said instead. “If I were
caught, a charge of grave-robbing would be scandalous.”
In his corner, Haught snorted. “Open fighting in the streets and the authorities
are worried about grave-robbing? I doubt there would be any danger of
discovery.”
“Then you fetch it if you’re so sure there’s no danger of arrest,” Zalbar
snapped back.
“Yes, that’s a good idea.” Ischade nodded. “Run along, Haught, and bring us the
contents of Razkuli’s grave. With luck we can see this business done by sun-up.”
“ME?” Haught scowled. “But …”
“You,” Ischade ordered firmly. “Now.”
Haught started to reply angrily, then apparently thought better of it and