Skulduggery Pleasant_ Death Bringer - Derek Landy [90]
“We were unable to retrieve it, Cleric Wreath,” Craven said. “But I saw it happen myself. High Priest Tenebrae is no more. This is a day of great sadness.”
“It is indeed,” Wreath said, “because we didn’t just lose Tenebrae, did we? We lost over three dozen others.”
“A terrible tragedy.”
“Tragedy, you call it? Melancholia killed them. I call it murder.”
Craven looked shocked, and glanced back at Melancholia. She was sitting with her head down and her hood up. For a moment there seemed to be a slight smile on her face. Craven turned back to the crowd. “Murder? How can it be murder? This is the Death Bringer. She released our fellow Necromancers to the great stream because she needed their strength and their courage to defeat Lord Vile and those Sanctuary dogs. I assure you, every single one of them was prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice, and I’m sure they did so gladly.”
“She didn’t exactly give them a choice,” Wreath said.
“I didn’t have time.” All eyes turned to Melancholia, who kept her head down. “I’m sorry I killed those people. I knew all of them. I’ll miss them, but I know I’ll see them soon, just as I know I’ll see the High Priest again. I have a… a responsibility, Cleric Wreath, to bring about the Passage. That’s the only thing that means anything any more. Surely you, of all people, know that we must do whatever we can to ensure that the world is saved.”
“And you think you’re really the one to do that?”
“I don’t know. In all honesty, I don’t know. I have doubts. Beneath this power I am still me, I am still Melancholia St Clair. I have my fears, Cleric. I’m afraid I’m not going to be strong enough, or brave enough, and I’m afraid I’m going to falter just when you need me the most. I don’t want to let you down, Cleric.”
Craven didn’t smile, even though his lips wanted to. He watched Wreath glower, while all around him the Necromancers were looking at Melancholia with a new level of understanding. It was a masterful speech.
“The Sanctuary will be getting desperate,” he said, drawing their attention back to him. “As long as we remain here, we should be safe. Another four days. That’s all we need. Let the Sanctuary agents tire themselves out searching for us. They won’t find us. They won’t find anyone who knows where we are. As long as we remain here, as long as we remain together, they will not defeat us, and we will save this world.”
He clasped his hands and closed his eyes, and they began applauding. They were applauding.
He turned, left the room. The White Cleaver trailed after him as per his new assignment – Personal Bodyguard to Vandameer Craven. Craven was sure that the Cleaver was deeply honoured by such a position, even if he didn’t show it.
Shadows collected ahead, and when they dissipated, Solomon Wreath was standing there with his arms folded. “You saw it, did you?”
Craven slowed as he neared. “I’m sorry?”
“Tenebrae. You saw Vile kill him?”
“Yes. Yes, I did. It was quick, though, and from that we must take comfort.”
Craven turned to one of the grimy windows that lined the corridor. “It’s all changed, isn’t it? There’s no going back – not now. I… I need someone I can trust by my side, Solomon. Are you that man?”
Wreath grunted. “I wouldn’t have thought so.”
Craven turned, smiled. “Nor would I, my friend. Between us, there has been nothing but animosity and distrust. Years, foolishly wasted on childish games – for what purpose? Pride? Vanity? I know not. But we are here. Now. Thrown together. You, the last Cleric of our Temple. And me, suddenly looked upon as prophet, as leader, as High Priest.”
Wreath unfolded his arms. “I’m sorry, what? Exactly who is looking at you that way?”
“Why, they are. Our fellow Necromancers. They look to me for answers I cannot give.”
“Because you’re not the High Priest.”
“But if I am not,” Craven said, as gently as he could, “then who is?”
Wreath frowned. “Craven, you’re a Cleric. We lost a High Priest, another will be assigned. It’s how these things work.”
“Would you wait for someone new to come