The Journeys of a Different Necromancer Read Free Page A

tasted much better than
the mush that made up his diet for the last ten years. He also
studied the people of Targon, the way they talked to each other,
the way they ate and laughed, and discovered he really didn’t know
how to deal with the living at all. On the fourth day, he decided
he would pay the king a visit.
    The soldiers at the gate of the castle wore the same red
leather armor, bore the same curved swords, and griffin-emblazoned,
round shields he remembered from ten years before.
    “ My name is Thomas, I am a student of Xavier the Necromancer,”
he said, addressing the sergeant of the gate, using the words he
had practiced all the way from the tower, feeling sure they would
immediately take him to the king.
    “ And that’s supposed to mean what?” The sergeant wore a sneer
and did not even stand up from his game of dice.
    “ I have come to see the king,” Thomas
stated, more than a bit confused. Why were these men not bowing? Then he remembered
the latest letter and produced it from his shoulder
bag.
    The sergeant wore the grin right up until he saw the king’s
seal on the parchment.
    “ Who did you say you were?”
    Thomas repeated his rehearsed speech.
    “ Corporal, go get the captain,” ordered the sergeant after
another moment of thought.
    Several minutes later, the corporal returned with a thin man
wearing the same uniform as the others, except this uniform bore
gold braids on the shoulders and gold thread on the cuffs. The men
snapped to attention. The sergeant saluted and handed the letter to
this new man, obviously the captain.
    “ Who did you say you were?” asked the captain.
    Again, now growing impatient with these mere soldiers, Thomas
repeated his introduction.
    “ This letter is addressed to Xavier, not his student,” stated
the captain.
    “ My teacher is dead.” Thomas felt he should say more about the
man who had taught him so much, but, for some reason, that’s all
that came out.
    The captain looked at the letter again and back at Thomas.
“Can you deliver what this letter asks?”
    “ Yes,” Thomas assured him, his tone rising in irritation. “Now
take me to the king.”
    “ Corporal.” The captain handed the letter to the corporal.
“Take this man to the chamberlain.”
    * * *
*
    The chamberlain sat behind his desk dressed in his bright red
robes of office. The pudgy man with pudgy fingers wore a very neat
and well-kept hairstyle. Thomas doubted a hard day’s work had ever
entered this man’s thirty or so years. The man sat there, reading
the papers stacked ever so neatly on the desk in front of him, and
paid absolutely no attention to Thomas.
    After two minutes of the complete lack of even an
acknowledgement, the necromancer’s student became even more
irritated than when he first sat down. “I have come to serve your
king,” he stated, unable to hold his tongue an instant
longer.
    “ Yes, yes,” the soft, pudgy man replied. “However, you have
stated yourself that you are just a student of this Xavier. How do
I know you can do what is asked for in this letter?”
    “ Because I say I can. Why would I say such a thing if I
couldn’t do as I say?”
    “ Yes, yes. Nevertheless, I can’t just present everyone to the
king who says they wish to serve him. Do you know how many people I
would have to present to him if I took every one to him with
matters they consider important? Do you know the paperwork
involved?” The man flipped over a piece of parchment. “You will not
be able to get an appointment for at least a month.”
    Sick of dealing with the self-important buffoon before of him,
Thomas stood and reached into his shoulder bag. He pulled out a
pouch and dropped it on the chamberlain’s desk. “This is grave
dirt, as if you need to know.” He reached back into his shoulder
bag and produced another pouch. “These are the teeth from a score
of dead.” This bag, too, he dropped on the desk, purposefully in
the middle of the stack of paperwork there.
    The