The Enterprise of Death - Jesse Bullington [38]
“I already know how,” said Awa, unable to hide her smirk. “How many times must I tell you that when you treat spirits with respect they make things much easier? I don’t need to order them about to get results.”
“Oh really?” The necromancer put down his tea. “Young Awa has surpassed her tutor, has she, just like she surpassed her fencing instructor? So tell me, why didn’t you return his soul to his bones, hmmm? Too busy? Not in the mood?”
“I—” Awa blushed, unhappy to be reminded of her selfishness in forgetting her friend.
“Or is it just possible you’re not half as clever as you think? Is it just possible you can’t back up that shit you’re so keen on talking once your old tutor’s taken away the ouch-ouch, eh?”
“Alright,” said Awa, striding around the table. The old bastard had a surprise coming, just like the first time she had animated a skeleton. She remembered the panicked expression on his face when the skeleton had gone for his throat and she smiled, her hoof clicking on the floor. She reached out to the spirit of the concubine that hovered over her splayed corpse, called her back to her bones as she had with Omorose. The corpse sat up and clambered to her feet, but weirdly enough the bulk of her spirit hung around Gisela’s exterior like a cloak knit of shadow and mist.
“Any chump can bring back the flesh,” said the necromancer. “I thought you said you could return her soul to her bones.”
“I …” Awa’s heart began to trot. “Didn’t I, Gisela?”
“No,” the concubine said. Somehow her voice sounded even deader than usual.
“You’re making her do this, to mock me,” said Awa, raising her voice. “I told her she could go back to her body so that means she must not want to, she must be resisting because you told her to. You’re trying to make a point about the difference between asking and ordering the spirits, aren’t you?”
“Did I ask you any such thing?” The necromancer looked at Gisela.
“No,” said the concubine.
“So why is your spirit still absent?” The necromancer smiled at Awa as he asked.
“She did not do what must be done,” said Gisela. “My soul needs her help to return.”
“She’s lying!” Awa said, refusing to acknowledge that the concubine had lost her rough masculine accent and was speaking with a flat cadence, like the mindless bonemen the necromancer had given tongues to report on what they saw in the chestnut forests on their forays down the mountain. “You’re making her lie to upset me!”
“The dead can’t lie,” the necromancer said patiently. “How many times have I—”
“You lied about that!”
“No, I didn’t. Even those cheats in the Schwarzwald can’t let even a little one slip out, it’s impossible for them. Believe me, Awa, you just can’t do it because I haven’t taught you yet. Not everything is as easy as making a log burn on a fire, you know.”
Awa felt sick but knew he was wrong, at least about some of it. Maybe if a spirit wanted to return badly enough it could even without whatever means he employed. Still, she heard herself say, “Show me, then.”
“Right ho,” he said. “Put her back down.”
“Alright,” said Awa, and she released the little bit of spirit holding Gisela up. The concubine fell back on the floor.
“Only the first time’s tricky, and after that the soul will listen to you and hop up or down at a word or a poke. Here’s what you do—roll her over, and kneel by her head.”
Awa did.
“It’s not so difficult but hardly the sort of thing your average gravedigger might think of. She’ll be easier than most because her spirit’s already right there, yes? Now, if you focus you’ll notice it stems from her head. Normally there would be no real spirit to see, only a sort of tether leading from that little piece of spirit that stays in the skull into nothing, and that’s what you have to pull on, normally, you reel them back in from wherever they’ve gone. So you focus on that, on drawing them back to their body.”