Black Magic

The people live by the love and will of the Goddess. Priests hear her voice, the Paladins feel her will, and her guidance helps them to drive back the fearsome demons which ever seek to destroy her followers. But when a priest is slain under strange and violent circusmtances, it is not the devout followers of the Goddess who can provide the answer. With nowhere else to turn, the King sends for those who practice the most loathed and feared form of magic; they who work in blood and bone, and appear as corpselike as the dead with whom they can speak...

The Necromancer | The Alchemist | The Dark Paladin

(this story is still in progress)

 

I. The Necromancer

He walked with his head down so the hood fell forward, shadowing his face though he ached to feel the sun on it. It was inadequate as warmth went, but the best he could get outside the flask tucked beneath his tunic.

Silence fell as he walked along, matching him step for step. He knew without looking up that people were stopping in the middle of their chores, their conversations, to stare at him.

A short figure dressed in dark, bedraggled clothes that were meant to be worn in winter, not the middle of summer. They watched him, hoping to catch a glimpse of 'death-pale skin' or perhaps the 'bones and blood' his type always carried to perform their evil spells. Later, he knew, they would all claim to have smelled death on him, to have seen grave dirt in the folds of his robes.

His thoughts were interrupted by a child's laugh as two of them ran across his path, one obviously chasing the other, playing a game that made them oblivious to the morbid curiosity and barely restrained hostility of the adults.

The chaser fell with a sharp cry on the hard cobblestone street, and Koray reached unthinkingly to help her up.

"Don't touch my child you filthy monster!" A woman shrieked, and it was immediately joined by a cacophony of threats and epithets. Koray drew his hand back into the folds of his robe, feeling colder than ever. "My apologies," he said, though he didn't think the furious, trembling woman heard him - not that she would care if she had.

Tamping down on the familiar pain, telling himself it was all right, it didn't matter, he was used to it, Koray pulled his head further into his hood and continued on, laughing bitterly at the way the people parted to let him pass.

Because as strong as their hate was, their fear was greater. If you angered a normal mage, the worst he could do was kill you.

Necromancers could do far worse than mere death.

Ignoring them, focusing only on the street and where he had to go, Koray left the people behind and made his way to the castle. He stopped at the gate and reached into his tunic, pulling out a small scroll and presenting it to the guards.

He pretended not to see the way they flinched, ignored the way they refused to touch the scroll. "The King is expecting you," one guard managed, not looking at him as he motioned for the gate to be opened, then waved him inside.

"Thank you," Koray murmured as he passed by them and into the castle proper.

The courtyard was simple stone, all of it well-laid and obviously of good quality, but simple all the same. Functional, but appealing for all that. He ignored the way guards and servants milling about stopped to stare at him.

Or tried. Everyone stared at necromancers. After fifteen years of it, he should be accustomed. He wished someone would teach him the trick of growing used to being hated and feared.

Why had he agreed to this audience? The King could have found another necromancer. Eventually.

Koray hunched his shoulders, fisting his hands to keep them from trembling as castle ghosts began to assault him - sapping his energy, pleading with him, crying, showing what had been done to them, begging him to help, the words all soundless because he had not the strength - nor the inclination - to give any of them voice. He shivered, cold, and pulled his robes more tightly around him, envious of those who could gain warmth simply by standing in the sun.

He presented his scroll, a royal order from the King, to the next set of guards. They backed hastily away, pointing down the hallway. Koray murmured a thank you and moved on, not waiting for a reply that would never come, hearing the way they muttered once they believed him well away.

Freak

Monster

Killer

Corpse lover

Blood drinker

The epithets were old, familiar, but they made him tired all the same. He passed through the doorway at the end of the hall, pausing only briefly to admire the bright paintings, the beautiful furniture, the soft rug and the way sunlight spilled across all of it. So much light and warmth.

Koray shivered and huddled in his robes, braced himself as he prepared to continue on past the waiting room and toward the throne room beyond. He began to move, feet trailing just a bit in the deep, soft rug - then he faltered, stopped.

Just the slightest bit of warmth struck him, like the heat of distant flames, as he heard a door open. He turned, eyes widening in the shadows of his hood.

The High Paladin. Bright steel armor edged with gold, deep violet under tunic, the starburst crest over his heart. The sheer warmth that emanated from him. Koray fisted his hands in the ragged ends of his old shirt, burying them deep within the folds of his robe, making his feet hold still before he did something stupid and painful.

He was as beautiful as all the stories said, tall and proud, the elegant lines of noble breeding combined with the experience of a soldier. Blonde hair with the faintest hints of red deep within, skin darkened by the touch of the sun, eyes as clear and blue as a summer lake.

Eyes that currently looked at Koray with as much fear and distrust as everyone else showed.

Somehow…he'd been stupid enough to hope. The High Paladin. The greatest of Knights, greatest of Paladins, blessed by crown and Goddess, sworn to protect all who dwelt in the King's realm. Surely this man would give him the benefit of the doubt.

It would seem not. Biting down hard on the inside of his cheeks, focusing on that pain, ignoring all the rest - the endless cold, the ghosts that lurked even in this sun bright room, the constant loneliness - he drove it back, shoved it away, focused on what he knew.

His world was death, not life.

"You are the necromancer," the Paladin said.

"Yes," Koray answered. "My name is-"

"This way," the Paladin interrupted, though Koray couldn't tell if it was intentional or not. "He's been most anxious to see this matter finished. Why was I not summoned immediately?" He seemed to say the last more to himself, leading the way through the set of doors in front of Koray, down the hallway and past the guards stationed at the end.

"Your Majesty," the Paladin, falling to one knee before the King.

Who also looked exactly as the few rumors he'd managed to hear had said. Were all Kings fat? It must be nice, to be so well fed. And dressed. So much silk and lawn, jewels the like of which he'd never seen…

Koray narrowed his eyes, grateful as ever for the shadows that hid his face. There was something about the King he didn't like. The gleam in his brown eyes seemed…wrong.

The ghosts in the room did not draw close, put off by the warmth and light of the unknowing Paladin. Koray fought the urge to move closer, to reach out and touch, see how warm the Paladin truly was.

The Paladin who feared him, disliked him, had not bothered even to hear his name.

He realized suddenly the King was speaking to him. "Majesty?" Belatedly he dropped to his knees, cringing at his own stupidity.

"Reveal yourself, Necromancer," the King ordered.

Reluctantly, every part of him screaming a protest, Koray reached up and pulled back his hood, keeping his pale gray eyes fastened on the carpet. He knew what they'd see, how they'd react.

His skin was indeed pale. Certainly not "deathly" but if he bared enough skin to let the sun brown it, he'd freeze to death. Only his robes kept him warm.

Once his hair had been as black as pitch. Some of it still was, but there were streaks of white and gray in it now. Too many ghosts that he could barely control. Too many spells that left him aching for a warm touch.

His eyes, like his hair, had changed. He thought maybe they'd been green, once, but he no longer remembered for certain. Now they were pale grey, the exact shade of the specters that sapped his strength, tried to speak to him.

Barely eating, the constant sapping of his spirit by ghosts, the high cost of necromantic spells - all had left him far too thin. The final touch on giving him the very image all held of a necromancer.

Perfectly logical explanations for his appearance, but no one had ever cared to search for them. He could see in the faces of the King and Paladin that they were the same as all the rest. It would be depressing if he let himself care. Which he didn't. He refused. Besides, if he angered either man the Paladin would leave his sight that much sooner, and take that warmth with him.

"For all our sakes, Necromancer," the king said at last, "I hope you solve our problems quickly."

Koray bowed his head low. "I will do all that is within my power, Majesty." He ignored the way the King grimaced at his words, no doubt imagining all the horrific, terrible things Koray could do.

"Sorin," the King said, "take him. Tell me how it all goes."

"Yes, Majesty." Standing, the Paladin motioned for Koray to follow, spinning neatly on one heal and striding from the throne room. Halfway down the long hall he turned off onto a narrow hallway Koray had only noticed before because of the ghostly maid lurking just in front of it, a sad, wistful expression on her face. She was young, and the blood dripping from her wrists told him all he needed to know. A maid used as a toy by a noble. He didn't need to give her voice to figure that out.

Goddess he hated places such as this.

Realizing he'd fallen behind, he hurried to catch up with the patiently waiting Paladin and started to apologize - but the Paladin, Sorin he supposed, turned away before he could speak and continued on his way.

Shuddering at the dark and cold, Koray stayed as close to Sorin as he could without upsetting the man, fisting his hands tightly in the folds of his robe to keep from touching. Goddess, to touch…to not be cold, for even a few precious seconds…a dream so impossible it hurt.

He'd always held out hope. Just the faintest hint, with no more life to it than the ghosts around him, but…if the Paladin himself was repulsed on sight…there was no reason to keep hoping.

"What have I been called for?" he asked softly.

For a moment it didn't seem as though Sorin was going to answer, and by the time he did it became unnecessary.

Necromancy. The room Sorin led him into reeked of it - copper and sulfur, a strange not quite mint smell that bespoke a ghost recently arrived.

Except.

Koray frowned.

The body had been removed, but it didn't take a necromancer to see that something horribly violent had occurred - from the fall of the blood it looked as though a fight had not gone well for someone.

"We want to know what happened," Sorin said. "His Majesty's cousin was killed three days ago. So far we have managed to keep it quiet, until the killer can be found, but time is running out. One of my men recognized the taint of necromancy. We thought perhaps another necromancer could solve the mystery."

Koray nodded, fingers going absently to play with a strand of gray hair as he frowned, wrapping and twisting it around his fingers. "I assume you have no practioners of necromancy on the premises?" At least not known practioners. If they'd done what he suspected, then the King had no idea what lurked within his walls.

"No," Sorin said, all but bristling at the idea.

"Of course not," Koray said, tamping down on his impatience. "Why would you with the noble and brave High Paladin on the premises." On impulse he let go of his hair and reached out - and felt his heart break just a little bit more at the way the Paladin unthinkingly recoiled. He let his hand fall to his side. "A Paladin, at any rate."

Sorin frowned at him, the insult obviously hitting its mark.

Koray continued on before he could speak. "There is no ghost here." He frowned in thought and began to walk around the room.

A parlor, but one with a window that at this time of day received no sunlight, making it dim. Blood splashed seemingly everywhere. Koray sensed only two kinds, and a softly murmured word confirmed that only one of the parties involved had died of his wounds.

Murder always left ghosts.

There was no ghost present.

Softly Koray began to hum, shifting into chanting as he reached into a small pouch at his waist and withdrawing a small stick of incense. A simple touch set the incense alight, and the room rapidly filled with the sharp, faintly bitter scent of myrrh. Increasing the sound of his chanting, Koray walked the circumference of the small room seven times.

At the end of the seventh he extinguished the incense and shook his head as he tucked it away. "There should be a ghost here," he said. "There isn't."

Sorin frowned at him, and Koray felt slightly better to realize it was from confusion, not disbelief. "I do not understand."

"He was murdered. That should guarantee the dead man's ghost would be in this room. Victims of violent, unnatural death always haunt the place they die. There is no ghost here. Usually that only means a handful of things." Koray drew a breath, gathering his thoughts. He might not have chosen this life, if that's what it was, but it was his and he was good at it. People needed him whether they wanted to or not, and now the King needed him. He would do this, and do it well, and perhaps he could charge a night of warmth in return. Oh, Goddess, to be warm for just one night…

Determined, Koray focused his thoughts and continued. "Most of the time, it means the ghost was put to rest. There's no way that's possible in this instance." He glanced around the room, then back at Sorin, who stared back - but had not moved from the doorway, well away from Koray. "In very rare instances, there simply is no ghost." He shrugged. "I have yet to determine why anyone would be content to be murdered."

"And the other reasons?" Sorin asked when Koray did not continue.

Koray glowered at the largest of the bloodstains, a rusty stain on the bright green and yellow rug on the floor. "I have only ever heard about it before," he said, "and did not think I would ever see it. I think someone has somehow managed to steal his ghost."

"How does one steal a ghost?" Sorin demanded, mistrust beginning to color his voice.

At the end of his patience, Koray shifted his glower to Sorin. "It can be done. I won't bore you with the details, Paladin, as I doubt you truly care. No one ever cares to hear what a necromancer has to say. Simply know that a necromancer determined enough can snatch a ghost away from its dwelling place."

"To what purpose?"

"Hard to say," Koray said. No good would come of answering that question. Not all rumors of the dark deeds of necromancers were false. "If you want the answer to that and the identity of the killer, it will take me some time to figure out."

Sorin shook his head. "The King wanted this settled as quickly as possible."

"If it had merely been a matter of speaking with a ghost, as I had thought it would be, the matter would be over. But your problem is far greater than a mere murderer, Paladin," Koray replied sharply. "A necromancer would not take a ghost for fun." No, a spell like that…the cost would be great. Painful. Which would narrow his search. Whoever had cast the spell would probably still be quite weak, even after three days. "Do you want my help or not?"

"How do I know you are not attempting to play us for fools?"

Koray laughed bitterly. "Think what you like, Paladin. I take no joy being here; this castle is rife with malcontent spirits. I bid you good day." He made to move past the man, but was halted by a motion - though it was awfully tempting to keep going, to see if the bravest and grandest of warriors would shriek like a little girl at the touch of a necromancer. "Yes?"

"Stay," Sorin said. "By my command."

"So good of you," Koray said ungraciously. "What of my payment, then?"

Sorin frowned at him, blue eyes dark with mixed emotions. Koray could read none of them, and found it annoyed him. Generally people were easy to read, but other than uncertainty and annoyance he could not tell what the Paladin was thinking. "You will be rewarded handsomely in gold, Necromancer, never fear."

"Gold?" Koray repeated contemptuously. "Tell me, Paladin, do I look as though anyone would ever accept gold from me? Even you recoil at my touch, and you think anyone would look at me, let alone take my money? How charmingly stupid of you." He flicked his fingers impatiently. "Food, for as long as I am here. Morning, midday and evening meals. Priests' robes - old, unused ones."

"Why would a necromancer have need of priests' robes?"

"Why should I tell you?" Koray replied, glaring into those blue, blue eyes, gratified to see the annoyance there flare into genuine anger. The pretty holy soldier, it seemed, had a temper. "You would not even bother to hear my name, Paladin, why should you care what I wear? Food, robes, and when I am finished a night in your company."

The look of utter confusion and near horror was almost comical.

Almost. Mostly it was depressing. "Never fear, noble and holy protector of all," Koray said bitterly. "I intend you no harm. Merely a night in your presence."

"Why?" Sorin demanded.

"I owe you no explanations, Paladin," Koray said coldly. "Not yet. Those are my terms. Yay or nay?"

Sorin glared at him, temper making his eyes spark. It also stirred the holy power in him, and what a fine thing that must be to see in battle - minus the screams of the dying, the voices of the outraged, miserable dead. Koray fought a shudder at the unwelcome thoughts. "Not without an explanation. If you seek my company, I have a right to know why."

"I have a right to a great many things," Koray said, "yet never has a one been given to me. I will explain when I see fit." He gave a slight nod, and the black and white strands of his hair tumbled over his shoulders. "But I promise, upon the Goddess whose star you wear, that I intend you no ill. I seek only respite."

For a long, tense moment there was no reply. Finally Sorin nodded. "Very well, I agree to your terms. You had best hold up your end of the bargain, necromancer."

"As I said before, Paladin, I will leave the role of hypocrite to you."

"I am no hypocrite!" Sorin snapped, rage finally sparking, catching fire. "I would know the reason you say such things to me, necromancer! Such rudeness, all uncalled for. I have every right to punish you for your behavior."

Koray laughed, the sound more bitter than ever. He moved closer, shoving his hair from his face, gray eyes fastened to clear blue. A mere step or two from the Paladin, he reached out a hand - and let it drop as the Paladin again recoiled. "Sworn to protect all those in need," he said softly, and stepped through the door as Sorin moved hastily aside, "yet you reject those who need you most. I will begin my work in the morning." He didn't wait for a reply, merely pulled his hood up and strode down the hallway.

Sorin followed after him, anger once more tamped down to mere aggravation. "Where are you going?" he demanded.

"To rest," Koray said tiredly, sick of it all. "I have not slept in a day and a half and the work ahead of me will be exhausting. Not that anyone cares."

"Where?"

"Certainly not in the room you never offered me," Koray said flatly. Not that he'd accept it. He'd never get any sleep.

"So it's true then?" Sorin asked. "Necromancers sleep in graveyards?"

Koray nodded, slowing down slightly so that he was closer to Sorin as they passed by a particularly nasty ghost, one who looked as though he would gladly add another strip of gray to Koray's hair if given the chance. Which Koray had no intention of giving him. "Frequently."

"Why?"

"Because it is the only place we're allowed that has no ghosts," Koray said.

Sorin stopped. "I thought-"

"Wrong. Just like everyone else," Koray said nastily, rounding on the Paladin, fury overtaking him because this man should care, this man should want to help, should want to understand, should want to keep him warm, should welcome his touch-Koray bit back a cry of rage and despair, hating himself for caring because he shouldn't care, not anymore. "There are other places I could sleep and be safe, but no one will permit me. No one ever permits us. So we sleep in graveyards. Now if you will excuse me, I have had all of the living that I can stand." He ignored whatever reply Sorin made, stalking away through the hallways, only once stopping to ask a guard for directions.

*~*~*

Sorin glared after the necromancer, fighting an urge to strangle the rude, condescending, bloody confusing bastard.

Did the man purposely set out to be as confusing as he possibly could? Because very little of what he'd said had made sense, though it was patently obvious that he wouldn't have minded if Sorin had joined the dead.

What in the name of the Goddess had he done so wrong? Something, clearly. The man had all but clawed his face off - and no real explanation offered. If this was how all necromancers behaved, no wonder they were so disliked!

Alfrey had been murdered. Brutally. Sorin had seen more men killed than he could count, but never had he seen something as brutal as Alfrey's body. Pure rage had ended Alfrey's life.

Pure rage had killed a friend. Sorin closed his eyes and focused on the energy, the strength, that ever flowed through him. He was no priest, he could not hear the words of the Goddess as they were able. But her power flowed through him, to serve and protect her people. Since Alfrey's murder the power of the Goddess within him had burned hot with anger, with rage. It had only grown since the arrival of the necromancer. A wrong had been committed. To correct it, he'd been forced to bring in one who practiced black magic. The Goddess was furious.

Who would want to kill Alfrey? And so brutally? He'd been a simple Priest, with no desire to harm anyone. His prayers had soothed thousands. His death would bring a great deal of grief. Murdered so brutally.

Black magic or no, he hoped the strange necromancer could solve the mystery.

No ghost…another necromancer had done the killing? Had he somehow never realized there was a necromancer on the premises? Surely not. The power of the Goddess had flared nearly out of control as soon as…

What was the necromancer's name? Sorin frowned. Hadn't the man said his name? He thought back over all they'd said, then rubbed his forehead. Well no wonder the man had been somewhat peeved. Demanding he find a murderer, a task that apparently would take some time, and neither Sorin - nor the King - had bothered to ask his name.

Sighing, Sorin wended his way through the halls back to the waiting room. He bowed and greeted the people who had gathered there in hopes of seeing the King before evening bells rang. He smiled at the women who held their hands out, grasping them and murmuring words of prayer - he was a soldier, not a priest, but the words of a Paladin always comforted them. He gradually made his way through the room and into the hallway beyond, nodding at the guards as he passed by them, and finally knelt before the King.

"Is the matter finished already then, Sorin?" King Rofell asked, waving away a page.

"Nay, Majesty," Sorin replied, and quickly explained all that had passed.

Rofell grimaced as he finished. "Very well. As you like, Sorin. But see that he causes no mischief. Murder is bad enough, I will not have one of those vile blood drinkers making it all worse. Give him three days to solve the mystery. We cannot stall things more than that."

"As you will it, Majesty," Solin said, and rose when the King motioned for him to do so.

"Why does he want a night in your presence?" Rofell asked idly, his mind clearly elsewhere.

Solin frowned, thinking. "I do not know. He would not tell me. I will find the answer."

"Do so," Rofell said shortly. "I will not risk my great High Paladin to a corpse lover."

"Majesty," Solin said with a last bow, refraining from pointing out that he was not the King's High Paladin. He was the sword arm of the Goddess, first and foremost. Turning neatly on his heel, he strode back the way he'd come and slowly made his way to the kitchens. He snagged a maid. "Have a meal prepared, for me to take to a guest."

"A-a-at once, my lord!" the maid immediately thrust her tray of bread at another passing maid and vanished into the chaos of the kitchens, reemerging minutes later with a covered tray. "Is there anything else, my lord?" she asked breathlessly, cheeks flushed with heat, eyes bright with exertion and the fact that she was assisting the High Paladin.

Sorin smiled and kissed the knuckles of her hand. "Thank you very much. Have a good evening."

"Yes, my lord!"

Taking the tray, Sorin avoided the main halls and took the back corridors and eventually reached the covered path that connected the castle to the royal cathedral. Instead of entering the enormous, towering cathedral he made his way around it, toward the field beyond and the graveyard there.

What manner of man willingly spent the night in a graveyard?

One who embraced death without dying, he supposed. What was it the necromancer said while he was shouting? Something about it being the only place he was allowed where he'd be safe. What did that mean? Be safe from what? People? Ghosts? What had he meant by 'allowed'? Necromancers weren't forbidden anywhere, strictly speaking…though certainly they were unwelcome.

Questions and more questions.

Sorin hesitated at the old, iron gate that sealed the graveyard off from the rest of the grounds. The last time he'd been here, he had not yet been a Paladin. They had buried Rofell's father. In a few more days they would bury Alfrey. Shoving away thoughts of his dead friend, for dwelling on them now would not help his attempt at reconciliation, Sorin wandered through the graveyard searching out the short, hooded figure of the necromancer.

How did one become a necromancer? He'd always wanted to ask that, hearing all the stories. Men who drank blood and collected bones and ashes, always smelled of the grave…though he didn't recall the necromancer smelling of anything more than myrrh.

Expensive incense, that. Even royalty winced paying for myrrh. How did a necromancer who looked like a homeless waif come to have even a small quantity in his possession? Sorin shook his head and stowed the questions away for later.

He paused at the sound of a door creaking, and looked up to see a familiar, hooded figure standing at the doorway of a small tomb - one which housed the body of a former Paladin. Sorin frowned. "Hail, necromancer. I've brought your evening meal." He approached slowly, holding the tray out as an offering. He wished the man would remove his hood, it felt too much like talking to a shadow with it up.

And he wanted to see the man's strange hair again, if he were honest. It looked as though someone had taken a paintbrush and streaked his hair with lines of white and silver, making it look like the mismatched hair of a child's rag doll. "I also wanted to apologize, necromancer." He hesitated when the man did not reply, and set the tray on the top step of the tomb. "I behaved poorly, earlier today. My only excuse is that Alfrey, the murdered man, was a dear friend of mine. My name is Sorin, as you already know. I should have asked yours, and I ask it now, if you are still willing to share it."

For a moment there was nothing but silence, and Sorin began to wonder if he was just wasting his time.

"Koray," the necromancer said softly, face still hidden in the depths of his hood. "Thank you for the food."

Sorin shrugged. "Are you certain you would not like…better quarters?"

That sad, bitter laugh again. The sort of sound Sorin ached to soothe…but how did a holy man soothe one who practiced the black arts? They simply did not mesh. "As I said before, Paladin, there are no other safe quarters for me where I would be welcome."

"What do you mean safe?"

"Why do you suddenly care?"

Sorin tightened his hands into fists, feeling his temper trying to rise at that infuriating tone - as though the man had every right to immediately be angry. "I meant no offense before! I have said I am sorry. I ask because I do not understand!" He turned stiffly away. "Clearly I am disturbing you. Good night, Koray."

"There are no ghosts here."

Sorin stopped, turned around. "Your words make no sense. You're a necromancer. Your craft is dead things. What have you to fear from ghosts?"

"Your craft is war, Paladin - does that mean you have nothing to fear from it?"

The words brought Sorin up short. "Well said, necromancer. So ghosts can harm? Yet there are no ghosts in a place where the dead are gathered?" Sorin frowned, heartily confused, and wondered why he'd never heard of such a thing before.

"Of course ghosts cause harm," Koray said contemptuously. "Most ghosts are the product of dark emotions built to such strength that even death could not extinguish them. Yet they are dead. They must have someone living through whom they can communicate. That communication taxes the living person who serves as their voice. The necromancer. As to graveyards…" Koray swept an arm out over the graveyard. "What is this, Paladin?"

"What is it?" Sorin asked, confusion growing. "A place of burial?"

Koray laughed softly.

Sorin hesitated, then gave a mental shrug. "A request, necromancer? Remove your hood? I dislike talking to a shadow."

Abruptly Koray stopped laughing, and Sorin could tell he'd startled the man. But slowly, clearly with heavy reluctance, Koray drew back his hood.

In the slowly gathering dark, and in the middle of the graveyard, Koray's odd features took on a strange, dark beauty. Sorin was startled by the thought. The man dabbled in things men should not touch. Even now the power of the Goddess in him seemed restless, unsettled, as if it wanted out and was contained only by the will of the Paladin. But the thought would not be displaced. Koray was strangely beautiful, with his odd hair and too-pale skin, those silver-gray eyes and surrounded by fading sunlight.

Necromancers were confusing.

Koray spoke, breaking the strange spell that Sorin felt had fallen over him. "Yes, a place of burial. But what about this place, Paladin, makes it special?"

Sorin frowned in thought. Then his brow cleared. "It's consecrated." Which, theoretically, meant a necromancer should not be able to wander about in it. But it was accepted that necromancers slept in graveyards - Koray had admitted they did. Everyone said necromancers were unholy…was it merely because a graveyard was filled with dead?

"Exactly. Land blessed by the Goddess. Souls can rest here in peace…and those with restless spirits would not haunt here. Ghosts always haunt either the place they died or the place where their discontent was greatest. Those restless spirits would not come here, as the consecrated ground would either drive them away or force them to eternal rest."

"I see," Sorin said, fascinated despite himself. In all he'd ever heard of necromancers, he was starting to realize how little he actually knew. "But how does one of black magic come to tread so lightly on sacred ground?"

He swore he could see the way Koray recoiled, drew into himself, the momentary softening of his hard face once more freezing over. "If you think what I practice is nothing but black magic, even after what I have told you, then I am finished telling you anything. Good night, Paladin." Stooping Koray snatched up the tray of food and then vanished into the depths of the old tomb, door creaking shut behind him.

Sorin repressed the urge to follow him and demand answers.

Honestly, the man was proving to have more thorns than the late Queen's rose garden.

Sighing, Sorin left to attend evening drills and then hopefully to a meal and bed.

*~*~*

Koray ignored the looks of those who passed him by, focusing all his attention on the crystal swaying back and forth in front of him. Earlier that morning, when no one else would be about, he had taken it to the room where the murder had taken place and charged it with traces of energy that still remained, focusing the crystal on the dead man - Alfrey, Sorin had called him.

Hopefully there was enough energy charged to the crystal that it would lead him to other sources of it. It flashed and sparkled in the morning sun as he strode through an open courtyard, having chosen to start at the front of the castle and slowly wend his way through it.

Suddenly it quivered, began to swing harder to the left. Catching his breath, Koray followed it, not minding his feet, attention only for the swinging crystal. He slowed briefly at a door - distantly noting it did not look like the others. As it opened easily beneath his hand he had the sense that it should have been locked.

Then he fell to his knees, doubling over, crystal tumbling to the floor as he bit back sobs of pain.

Oh, Goddess he was in the dungeon. There were no signs of life, but the signs of death-Koray couldn't stop the tears of pain that streamed down his cheeks. Goddess, he couldn't do this. There had to be another way to find answers…

…But the crystal had been adamant. A clue to the demise of Alfrey was here in the dungeon, amidst the fear and despair, the hate and rage.

Already he could see a ghost - a soldier, from the uniform, throat a bloody mess. Had he been killed at the foot of the long stairs? By a prisoner? A fellow guard? He looked angry, mouthing words Koray didn't want to understand until it became necessary. Scrabbling at the wall for a handhold, cringing to think what might be on it, Koray slowly stood up, then stooped to retrieve his crystal.

Taking a deep breath, he blocked out everything he could, ignoring even the pain that wracked his body as he resisted the efforts of the angry ghosts attempting to steal his energy. A few whispered words called forth a ball of glowing light - pale violet, but powerful, flooding the area immediately surrounding him with light. Focusing his attention once more on the crystal, he willed it into acting, searching, resuming the hunt for the energy it was imbued with.

Slowly the crystal began once more to turn, picking up speed, swinging heavily to the right, and with slow, halting steps Koray obeyed, hunching, cringing in his robes as he wandered deeper into the dungeons - at least it appeared they were no longer in use.

"Necromancer?" a familiar voice called from the stairs.

Koray whipped around, unable to help the wave of relief that washed over him as the High Paladin appeared, the holy power contained within him radiant, weakening the spirits who would do harm, warming him enough his shivering eased. "Yes, Paladin?"

"Why are you down here? A guard said you broke the lock and ventured down here. Has this to do with the task set you?" Sorin drew close slowly, pausing intermittently to light old sconces with his own torch.

Koray bristled. "The door was unlocked! I merely followed where my crystal bid me go."

"Unlocked you say?" Sorin's brows went up at that. "Interesting. I will have to investigate that later. But why are you here?"

The immediate trusting of his words was unexpected, and for a moment Koray wasn't sure what to do. It would have been far easier simply to believe he had broken the lock, or picked it, than to trust him when he said another did it. Turning sharply away, but not moving far from the Paladin's warmth, Koray once more lifted his crystal and set to work.

Slowly the crystal led him through the maze of cells and chambers, and Koray was careful not to linger long enough to see what some of those chambers contained. All around him he could hear the need of the ghosts to be given the chance to speak but here, in this place of pain and death, their words would not be kind ones.

At last the crystal gave one more swing, then stilled. Koray contemplated the ghost which sat inside the old, moldering cell. He drew what meager comfort he could from the warmth behind him. More than anything he wished he could draw directly on that strength…but now was not the time for such fanciful thoughts.

He looked over his shoulder at Sorin, whose face was solemn in the light of the wavering torch. "Do not speak, Paladin, do not do anything which might break my concentration."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

Again Koray was rendered speechless. Yesterday the man had been as bad as all the rest, yet since last night he had been almost a different person. "Just stay close, if you don't mind. Your presence…" Koray clamped his mouth shut, furious that he would so easily admit weakness. "Just remember - do not break my concentration."

Sorin nodded, and Koray turned back to the ghost huddled in the corner of the cell. He reached into a pouch at his waist and withdrew a small stick of myrrh, lighting it and wedging it in a crack in the wall. The fragrant, slightly bitter scent filled the small cell, overwhelming the odors of death and decay, strengthening the channel between him and the dead.

Slowly Koray stepped into the cell, shoving back his hood so he could better see, stopping a few paces away from the huddled figure.

This poor thing had died of fright. Misery. Judging from the marks upon the ghost's body, at least those he could see, the poor thing had endured a great deal of suffering before finally succumbing to her wounds. Koray's eyes burned with the smoke of the incense and pain at the suffering which had made this spirit too restless to find peace. From another pouch at his waist he withdrew a small bundle of delicate silver bells. Spell words shimmered across them, ancient runes that even a sorcerer would not immediately understand. He rang them sharply once, twice, thrice. "Speak, spirit, and share your grief - by my strength and will, and the love and mercy of the Goddess."

Distantly he heard Sorin's startled gasp to hear him invoke the Goddess's name in a necromantic spell, but it wasn't enough to break his concentration. Before him, the ghost looked up - a woman, even worse, and the anguish ripped his heart to shreds - and began to speak. And rather than soundless motions, words as soft as mist drifted across the space to Koray.

Tortured me. Kept me down here. Hated that he loved me.

Koray rang the bells again. "Calmly, sweet sister. Draw my strength, find the words you want to say, help me understand."

Cannot say who. Bespelled. Even in death. Hated that Alfrey loved me. Wanted me to give him up, stay away. Tortured me when I refused. I lost too much blood. So dark. Lonely. Won't you help me?

"Yes, sweet sister. I will help you. Tell me more of your Alfrey."

Sweet priest. Loved me though I was just a simple seamstress. He said he'd give up the priesthood for me, that we'd go across the sea.

"And would you like to do that still? Go across the sea?"

Not without Alfrey.

Koray smiled. "Ah, but if you go now, you can set up house for him, have a nice meal waiting. He will be along shortly, sweet sister. Has merely a few more people to whom he must bid farewell. He wants you to go first, to wait for him, to greet him with your smile on the far shore."

Alfrey…The ghost gave a slow, hesitant nod.

"What is your name, sweet sister?"

Nella

Koray nodded and returned his silver bells to his pouch and drawing out a set made of gold. When he shook them, they made no sound - but Nella smiled sweetly, and whispered a thank you, then Alfrey's name, and finally vanished.

As the sapping of his spirit abruptly ceased, his exhaustion hit him hard and Koray swayed on his feet, blindly reaching out to catch himself, fingers latching on to the cell bars. He held a hand to his forehead, willing the ache there to ease, knowing it wouldn't for hours yet.

"What…what just happened?" Sorin asked. "Are you all right?"

"I'll be fine," Koray said. "I spoke with a ghost. Alfrey was a priest?"

"Yes," Sorin replied. "The most respected in the capital, but not as powerful as he could have been. He preferred to lead a quiet life and leave power to others."

Koray nodded and stumbled from the cell, wanting badly to find a place free of ghosts to rest until his depleted spirit restored itself. He shivered, entire body shaking with cold, and awkwardly made his way from the dungeon, ignoring Sorin's calling behind him, desperate now to get away, get out, find warmth somehow.

"Necromancer?" Sorin asked. "Are you well? Why do you shake so?"

"Cold," Koray gasped out, hating himself for doing so. "I need to rest. I'll be back later." He ignored whatever else Sorin said, moving faster than was wise, blowing past everyone, scarcely noticing as they scrambled to get out of his way, desperate only to reach the graveyard before he passed out.

He couldn't pass out anywhere but where he was safe. The last time he'd passed out after a spell…he'd woken up exactly where he'd fallen. Cold, damp from the drizzly spring air, an old sack filled with his asking price…no one had carried him to shelter, or so much as given him an old horse blanket. He'd saved them from an angry, powerful ghost, and they'd left him where he'd fallen.

It had happened more than once.

To wake up in a hallway…to know the Paladin had simply left him there…even thinking it hurt, and it shouldn't. It shouldn't. He was beyond caring.

At last he reached the tomb where he was staying. The faint warmth of a long-dead Paladin washed over him, a pathetic but nevertheless welcome blanket of some warmth as his world turned black and he crumpled to the hard floor in front of the stone coffin of the dead Paladin.

*~*~*

Sorin swore softly as he watched Koray vanish into the confounded tomb. Goddess grant him patience, he'd never met a man so blasted confusing!

He turned away with a sigh, knowing he'd get nothing out of the man.

Had Koray even bothered to eat breakfast? It was still so early…

Frowning, Sorin changed directions and headed for the kitchens rather than the training yards. He stopped one of the cooks. "Has the necromancer been by to eat?"

The woman shuddered at the mention of Koray. "No, my lord. We saw him wandering about the castle, but he never asked for food." The woman made the sign of the Goddess and moved on when it was obvious Sorin needed nothing more. He motioned to another woman. "Have a tray prepared for me, be generous with the portions."

"Yes, High Paladin," the woman said with a bow, then rushed to obey.

When the tray was ready, Sorin took it and strode back toward the graveyard. He shook his head at himself. There were duties requiring his attention, men awaiting him in the castle and in the training yards. The King would be expecting the morning reports…and instead he'd spent the past hour trekking around the abandoned dungeon-

--Which reminded him. Koray had said the door was unlocked when he found it.

No one but he, the Steward and of course his Majesty had keys to the old dungeon. Had someone broken the lock? To what purpose?

Whatever Koray had done or seen down there, he had not seen fit to tell him before running off back to the graveyard.

His thoughts brought full circle, Sorin glowered at the tomb as he approached it. Feeling like an idiot, he knocked at the door. When no reply came forth, he pulled the door open-and stopped.

Setting the tray of food hastily down, he approached the unconscious Koray. From the awkward way he lay, all twisted and folded, it was obvious he'd simply passed out. Was it because of whatever had transpired in the dungeon?

Sorin knelt down and reached for him - then stopped. If he touched Koray, he'd just cause him pain. He was the strong arm of the Goddess, his touch would be more painful to Koray than even that of the High Priest.

Yet…hadn't Koray asked for priests' robes? Even the old ones he requested would surely cause him problems, if he were a true master of black magic. He was also sleeping on consecrated ground…in the tomb of a Paladin, and his proximity had never seemed to trouble Koray.

Well, the presence of a Paladin had never seemed to bother him. Sorin's presence seemed to annoy, for whatever reason. Every approach, every attempt to help, was either accepted begrudgingly or sharply rejected. What had he done to offend?

Sorin frowned, confused as to what to do.

Inside him the power of the goddess was flaring, burning hot and bright. She was furious, her power filled with anger. Anger over the murder, over the presence of the necromancer, so much fury Sorin was having a hard time sorting it out. Rage tempered only by his strength, his experience.

Furious or no, he could not leave Koray lying so uncomfortably on the stone. More, he should have thought to have blankets and other such things brought, if this was where the man insisted on spending his nights. Ignoring his uncertainty, prepared to stop the minute it was clear he was causing Koray pain, Sorin reached forward and took hold of the necromancer.

He immediately recoiled, eyes wide shock, gasping.

Two things had immediately struck him.

The goddess's rage had begun to ease when he'd touched the necromancer. It had gone still, as if pleased, waiting to see what else would happen…almost as if by touching Koray he was doing the right thing.

How was that possible? How? Necromancers practiced black magic - they were as deep into the black magic as anyone could get. Only demons were worse.

What was going on?

He also wanted to know why Koray had felt so cold. Like touching ice in the thick of winter, or being caked in wet, snow-laden clothes. More confused than ever, Sorin hesitantly reached out again.

Koray was far colder than it was healthy for a man to be. Nor had he been mistaken in the way the goddess's fury eased when he touched the necromancer. Was…was it possible that her fury wasn't because of the necromancer…but rather on his behalf?

Not understanding, but long used to obeying the will of the Goddess even when She confused him mightily, Sorin ceased hesitating and gathered the necromancer close, holding him tightly, willing the too-slender body to warm.

He stilled when Koray suddenly curled into him, making a sound that was half-sob, half-whimper. It hurt, that awful sound. Sorin reached up to shove off the ugly hood, revealing too-pale skin, that strange, beautiful hair. Sorin realized he was stroking one pale, silvery strand and made himself stop, but was unable to avoid tracing the line of one fine cheekbone, drawing a sharp breath at the way Koray turned into the touch, sought more.

This sleeping man was so different from the waking one. Not a thorn in sight, so accepting of his touch.

At last Koray seemed to settle, a soft, barely audible sigh escaping his lips before he relaxed against Sorin, head on his shoulder. "Goddess…I don't understand this…" He closed his eyes and held Koray close, willing the power inside him to help him understand.

It was still, and from that he had to accept that holding the necromancer was the right thing to do. That meant his initial assumption had been wrong - horribly wrong. He could still feel the rage over Alfrey's murder…but mingled with it was the stillness, the bright calm, that let him know he was doing the right thing. The Goddess was pleased that her Paladin held a necromancer close.

Sorin wished he understood. Why was it right that the most holy of the Goddess's children hold a black mage? "Goddess, please tell me. I cannot do your will if I do not understand it. Most humbly your servant asks you to give me some measure of understanding."

His only answer was silence, the bright, steady calm that assured him he should continue holding the necromancer. The Goddess did as she willed; it had been foolish of him to ask for answers. He would have them in time.

Sometimes that was a hard thing to remember.

Putting his questions aside, Sorin returned to examining the man in his arms. So slender. Too slender. As if he were starved half to death. He lifted one of Koray's hands, running his thumb over the bony knuckles, the long, thin fingers, circling his own fingers around a wrist that felt as though the slightest bit of force would snap it.

He wasn't cold anymore, Sorin realized suddenly. Cool, but definitely not cold. Was he warming Koray up? That only made sense, of course. As thin as he was, Koray probably had very little body heat of his own…yet that did not explain how shockingly cold he'd been.

More questions.

Sorin sighed softly and reached out to stroke Koray's cheekbone again, touching at least giving him something to do, making him feel like he was doing more than sitting in a crypt warming a man who seemed to hate him.

Some time later the power in him shifted again, settled in a different way, began to pulse and twitch. His job here was done…for the moment, anyway. He sensed whatever the Goddess wanted in regards to Koray was far from over. Gingerly he set Koray down on the stones, arranging him as comfortably as he could.

He grabbed the tray of food and moved it close, then lingered a moment more, suddenly reluctant to just leave Koray alone…but taking him into the castle would only hurt him, right? Hadn't he said something about all the ghosts bothering him?

Why couldn't everything he'd heard about necromancers have been right? More importantly, why was everything he'd been told proving to be wrong - horribly wrong.

Suddenly angry, Sorin left the graveyard and stormed through the castle, the rage of the Goddess fueling his own, contained only by his knowledge of what it could do when it was unleashed.

He was Paladin because he could control those forces rather than let himself be consumed by them.

The Holy Cathedral of the Goddess of Light shone in the sunlight, glittering where the sun caught chips of crystal in the rock chosen for that very reason. Windows of colored glass were everywhere, and where the light slipped through it caught on crystals that hung from string, were set into braziers - practically wherever they could be put.

Sorin barely noticed, his eyes only for the High Priest at the altar. Around him people scattered, vacated, sensing that they had better places to be at the moment.

"High Paladin," the High Priest greeted calmly, as though oblivious to the rage he felt emanating from Sorin. "What troubles you?"

Sorin stopped short of the altar and forced himself to calm, blue eyes locking with the dark brown eyes of the severe-looking High Priest. "I came to you to learn of necromancers, that I might be familiar with the man who had come to this castle to solve a certain matter." They both knew very well he meant the murder.

"Yes," the High Priest replied, growing confused.

"Everything you told me, sir, appears to have been a lie. I would know why."

The High Priest drew himself up. "I told you all that was told to me."

"Then someone lied," Sorin snapped. "I was told they were unholy, the blackest of mages." He spread his arms wide. "Yet just moments ago the Goddess bid me hold the necromancer close, warm him, for he was as cold as winter."

"What?" the High Priest demanded. "Ridiculous."

"You question the will of the Goddess!" Sorin thundered.

"No," the High Priest said. "That is not what I meant." He sighed. "I was expressing my amazement. Necromancers practice black magic, this is the truth I was always told. Never has the Goddess said anything to indicate I was wrong in my beliefs…though it is not her duty to tell me everything, is it?" He motioned to the front pew. "Perhaps we should sit, for I fear you have much to tell me."

"I have much to ask," Sorin answered, swiping a hand through his hair. "You said necromancers practice black magic."

"They do," the High Priest said. "That is fact. Myrrh, rune-marked bells, words no one blessed by the Holy Goddess would understand. They use blood and ash in their rituals…more besides. You remember all I told you. Why do you claim they are blessed by the Goddess?"

Sorin rubbed his head, willing away his headache. "Does it not seem strange to you that necromancers sleep in graveyards?"

"Among the dead? Hardly."

"On consecrated ground."

The startled look on the High Priest's said he'd never looked at it that way - Sorin was beginning to think no one had. Himself included, until Koray had pointed it out. "More importantly," he continued, "I found him collapsed in the crypt where he is staying and when I moved him, he seemed to welcome my touch rather than recoil from it - and the Goddess seemed pleased that I was helping him."

"How puzzling," the High Priest murmured. "I learned from my predecessor, and he from his…as we always do. Never have I heard that a necromancer might be blessed. This will require deeper investigation…though I suppose we could also simply ask him."

Sorin chuckled and shook his head. "Nay, High Priest. I have tried that before." Sorin relaxed in his seat, letting his head fall back against the pew to stare up at the colorful windows lining the ceiling, shedding down a rainbow of light. "Asking him a question is much like trying to comfort a wounded cat."

The High Priest chuckled at the mention of his cat, which had given him many a scar before he finally won the feline over. "If I can tame a half-wild cat, Paladin, you can coax answers from a necromancer."

"You have not met the necromancer," Sorin muttered. He sat up with a sigh. "Which reminds me - in payment for solving the riddle, he has requested old priests' robes."

"A peculiar thing to ask for," the High Priest said. "I will pull a few from storage and have them cleaned."

Sorin shook his head. "You don't know the half of it…though I think perhaps it makes more sense now." At the curious look the High Priest gave him, he shrugged. "He asked to spend a night in my company."

The High Priest's lips twitched. "I assume he didn't mean what it sounds like he meant."

"No, he didn't," Sorin said, rolling his eyes. "He almost said something before, now that I am paying attention to what is said to me." He glowered at the floor, annoyed with himself. He had listened too easily to all that was said to him, to what he was told, without double checking any of it. Granted the High Priest had told him most of those things…but he should not have simply assumed he understood the Goddess's anger. Well, he could begin to fix things now. "He said something about my presence, but cut himself off." He shrugged and scrubbed at his hair, wishing something made sense. Goddess, he hated feeling confused. "I guess I will find out somehow. I have faced worse than a prickly necromancer…"

"Indeed you have," the High Priest said, lips curving in amusement. "Shall I bestow a battle blessing upon you, Paladin?"

Sorin laughed. "That will not be necessary, High Priest, but I thank you. I apologize for calling you a liar."

The High Priest waved the words away. "Apparently I am a liar. I shall begin to fix that this evening. If you learn anything before I do, let me know."

"Of course. Goddess guide you."

"And you, Paladin."

"If only it were that easy," Sorin muttered as he left, striding back toward the castle proper and off to the yards where he should have been hours ago.

*~*~*

Koray woke slowly, and with great reluctance, wanting nothing so badly as to hold on to the dream of being enveloped in warmth, of being touched - held. Even now thinking such a thing made his eyes sting.

Finally he made his eyes open, and sat up with a groan, body stiff from the hard floor and-

Nothing. He…he didn't feel cold. Chilled, perhaps, but it was faint. He wouldn't start getting cold for hours yet. This…this was like nothing he'd ever felt. His spirit was fully replenished, as if it had not been almost completely sapped by his short time in the dungeon. Koray shuddered at the memory of that awful place.

A softly murmured word brought forth the violet light, flooding the small tomb, and he spied a tray of food nearby. Removing the cover revealed a breakfast long turned cold. It seemed the Paladin was agreeing to at least one term…they would see on the others.

Why was he so warm? Had he been asleep so long that hiding away in this tomb had healed him completely? Hesitantly Koray reached up to touch his face, touching his cheek, fingers catching in a strand of hair. His spirit was completely restored - for the first time since he'd started down the path of necromancy.

How? Was it simply staying in this tomb? The lingering power of a long dead Paladin? That didn't make sense.

Shaking his head, Koray shoved the mystery aside and determined simply to enjoy the warmth while it lasted, enjoy the food before him. Good bread, no longer warm but still delicious. A hunk of cheese that wasn't half-dried and useless to everyone else. The porridge was cold and pasty, but Koray still thought it was wonderful - and it had honey. When was the last time he'd had honey?

At last finished, Koray gathered up the tray and walked outside. Should he take it to the kitchens? He shuddered at the thought, at the looks he would get…he'd left the last one, and it was no longer here. Not certain what else to do, he left it in front of the door and slowly made his way through the graveyard, touching a stone here and there that seemed to radiate a faint feeling of peace, even happiness. People who had lived well, died well. A rarity.

Once in the main courtyard, ignoring the people and spirits that milled around him, Koray pulled his charged crystal from a pocket in his robes and held it out. Late afternoon sunshine caught it, made it sparkle, made the silver chain glitter. Murmuring a soft command, he blocked out everything until he heard only a silence, his attention solely for the crystal as it began slowly to move.

There were yet more spirits that could provide information on the dead priest. Oblivious to everything, Koray followed the crystal as it began to indicate where he should go, spinning slowly, then picking up its pace, back and forth as he wove through the castle.

He slowed as he approached an open door, stopping completely just inside as he realized he'd found his way to a garden. Not a private one, he hoped. He didn't feel like dealing with some offended royal or noble.

The high stone walls made it seem like some secret, forgotten place. Small trees and colorful plants and flowers filled the place; the only spots free of greenery were a small bench tucked far away in the back corner and a small, stone path that wandered with seeming aimlessness through the garden.

Something…there was a presence here. A ghost…but no hostility. A benevolent presence, quite rare. Koray drew a breath and focused harder on locating the presence.

"Necromancer," a voice said behind him. Koray spun around, concentration broken, and was startled to see how close Sorin was - how had he not heard him? Eyes the blue of a summer lake watched him intently, and Koray stared back, refusing to be unsettled. There was something different about him…a…focus to the Paladin that had not been there before.

"Paladin. Did you need something?"

"Several things," Sorin replied. "What happened in the dungeon for one, and I would like to speak to you whenever you have a chance."

Koray tensed and drew into his robes, letting his hood fall farther forward to obscure his features completely. "About what?" he asked. "I've done nothing wrong - except be here of course."

Annoyance filled Sorin's face and he stalked forward, and Koray gasped as the Paladin simply reached out and shoved the hood from his face, too startled by the action and the warmth that flooded him, overtook him.

Familiar warmth. Comprehension flooded him. "You touched me. While I slept. Why?"

Confusion combined with the annoyance on Sorin's face. "Why can I touch you?" Sorin asked, frowning thoughtfully. "I've always been told necromancy is black magic, yet when I found you in the tomb and tried to help you…" He trailed off, unable or unwilling to finish his sentence.

Koray frowned, his own confusion rising - and suspicion. Hours ago this man had cared about nothing more than making sure he solved the mystery and left as quickly as possible. Now he was asking questions no one had ever bothered to ask. "Why should I tell you anything?" he demanded. "What do you really want?"

"The truth," Sorin said. "My powers have been in turmoil since you arrived, and I thought it was because of Alfrey's murder and the presence of a black mage. Yet the moment I touched you, the turmoil ceased. Tell me about necromancy."

So Sorin had held him while he'd slept…his dream had not been entirely false. He'd been touched. Held. By the holiest of men. It couldn't be true. "No one cares about necromancy," he snapped. "Even you recoiled every time I drew too close. I go to sleep and suddenly you ask questions that no one ever asks."

"Maybe because you're too busy snapping at everyone for anyone to get a question in!" Sorin replied, heat filling the room as his power flared with his anger. "Since I have met you, necromancer, I have heard nothing but harsh, cold words from you. I have admitted to my mistakes and apologized for them! I am trying to right my wrongs, but I cannot do so if you continue to snap at me and run away."

Koray glared. "So I should just trust you? Paladin, the last time I did work as complicated as what you're demanding of me, I fell unconscious in a damp field. When I woke, I was still in that field. No one touches me. No one comes any closer to me than they must. Women hide and men would beat me if they did not fear the curses I could lay upon them. You, the holiest and strongest of men, recoiled from my touch."

"Confound it, necromancer, I thought my touch would hurt you! I have done battles with demons, necromancer - touching you would hardly upset me." Sorin raked a hand through his hair in frustration, his expression saying he wanted nothing more than to throttle Koray. "All I've heard my entire life is that necromancy is black magic. That people think so obviously angers you. I am asking for you to correct me and you get angry! Confound it, necromancer, it is not your magic that repels people - it is your thorns!"

"My thorns," Koray repeated.

"Yes," Sorin replied, temper calming. "I would like you to explain your craft to me - for a price, if you like. I dislike that I was so ill informed. More, that apparently everyone is misinformed - though if all necromancers act like you, it is little wonder people are reluctant to ask questions."

Koray bristled. "I have reasons for acting as I do. We cannot all be loved and adored for bearing the power of the goddess, Paladin."

Sorin looked weary, and for a moment Koray thought he even looked a little sad. "Yes," he said, "for bearing the power of the Goddess. Everyone loves the High Paladin." He shook his head. "So will you speak with me, necromancer, or must we continue to fight?"

"You truly want to know?"

"How can I convince you?" Sorin's face suddenly brightened. "Ah. I have some small offering, anyway. Come with me."

Frowning, hating how uncertain and confused he felt, Koray stowed his crystal and obediently followed. Hopefully whatever had drawn him to the garden would not be going anywhere - highly doubtful, as he'd been looking for ghosts, but then again a ghost had been stolen.

He followed Sorin through the halls, up the stairs and down a well-lit hallway.

The warmth that filled the room startled him, and he knew suddenly this was Sorin's room. It was positively soaked in the Paladin's power. Two tapestries hung on the wall - one a portrayal of what he knew to be one of the earliest Paladins, the other of a herd of horses running beneath the sun.

On the far side of the room was an enormous bed, dark wood and deep blue fabric, bed drapes drawn back and tied with dark gold cording. Blue and gold rugs were splashes of color on the stone floor, an enormous one by the fire hosting a table and chairs. A wardrobe and trunk were set in a corner near the bed, and here and there Koray could see bits of Sorin and his life - a dagger on the table, obviously waiting to be cleaned. A sword belt draped over the foot of the bed, a lingering smell of steel and leather.

The warmth, too, was impossible to ignore. Here was a room ghosts would never approach. Only one was even remotely close - at the far end of the long hallway. Too much of the Paladin dwelt here for them to approach.

Sorin motioned him further into the room and moved to the table, and for the first time Koray noticed the bundles piled in one chair. One by one Sorin set them out on the table, until there were half a dozen bundles on the table.

Bundles of fabric. It wasn't hard to figure out what they were. What was hard to figure out was the quantity - and the quality. These weren't the old, threadbare and heavily patched robes he was used to receiving.

They were also the wrong color. Generally the robes he received were brown, or even dark blue, the robes worn by the youngest ranks of the priesthood - acolytes and those newly inducted into the Church as full Priests.

The ones on the table were deep, deep violet, the color worn by high ranking Priests and the Paladins. Nor were they in poor condition. If these were old robes, he wondered what the new ones looked like. "The High Priest sends them with his gratitude for your help and his full blessing. He was not certain of your size, so sent a variety, and says you may keep all that you like. If none suit your needs, you need only say and others will be brought."

Koray reached out to touch the nearest bundle, barely biting back a gasp at the softness of the fabric - rich, fine wool for the coming cold. "These have been blessed," he said, forcing his fingers to let the fabric go.

"Is that a problem?"

"No," Koray said, feeling more unsteady than ever. "Why?"

Sorin lifted one brow. "It's something the High Priest does with everything. I think he blesses his shoes. Possibly the broom he uses to sweep the steps in the morning. For all I know the man blesses his dirty laundry."

Koray clapped a hand over his mouth and dropped his head, struggling not to laugh, surprised that he wanted to - but the image of the High Priest blessing dirty laundry…

"Laughing was not a crime, last I checked," Sorin replied, and Koray looked up to see the faint smile on his face. "Though maybe necromancers aren't allowed. Who knows? You have made me painfully aware that I know nothing about your craft." He motioned for Koray to take a seat. "Perhaps you will be good enough to enlighten me."

A knock at the door cut off Koray's reply, and he stood silently as servants appeared with food and drink, clearing away the robes to set the meal out properly. He heard Sorin thank them, then they were once more left alone.

"I thought you would be hungry when you woke, and your breakfast would have been cold. Do you always sleep so hard after…whatever it was you did in the dungeon?" Sorin sighed, looking suddenly sad. "Perhaps you should tell me first what you have learned of Alfrey. I would know who is responsible for my friend's death."

His friend? Koray had realized he must have known the man, and logically it made sense that the Paladin would befriend priests…but somehow he'd missed that completely. Sorin had been so matter of fact about everything.

Feeling wholly out of his element, waiting for the moment when the Paladin ordered him out, returned to all but ignoring him, Koray sat down and stared at the food on his plate, gathering his thoughts. "The dungeon…my crystal, charged with Alfrey's energy, led me down there and to that far cell. I found the ghost of a seamstress, she said her name was Nella…"

"Nella?" Sorin asked. "She vanished nigh on two weeks ago. The other women about the castle said she'd been making noises about leaving…her stuff was gone, it was assumed she had left."

Koray shook his head, trying not to shudder at the memories. "She was kept down there, after being beaten, abused…eventually she bled to death."

Horror and pain filled Sorin's face. "By the Goddess…why?"

"Because she was having an affair with Alfrey," Koray replied. "She is spelled against telling me who killed her - the same person, I'd imagine, who killed Alfrey. Whoever it was, they killed her because of her relationship with Alfrey. Apparently they had been planning to travel across the sea together."

"Goddess…" Sorin shook his head. "Why did Alfrey never tell me any of this? He and Nella? I never knew…all the times we spoke…I thought we were friends." His eyes slid shut, and Koray watched the way his lips moved, soundlessly reciting prayers. His bright blue eyes were dark when he finally opened them. Dark though they were, however, Sorin's eyes were as sharp as ever. "Why would someone steal Alfrey's ghost but not Nella's?"

Koray shrugged. "Perhaps they did not think it necessary. According to her, no one knew about them. Certainly no one knew she was down there. Perhaps they did not know I would be able to find her."

"No doubt," Sorin said. "The King expected you to be gone in a matter of hours."

Yet it didn't really make sense. Any necromancer with the skill and power to steal a ghost should have known a simple crystal was all that would be needed to find Nella's ghost. Then again…Nella had been spelled against telling him anything useful. She could say what happened, and why, but not who - stealing her ghost wasn't necessary.

"Is there no way to learn the identity of the killer?"

"I do not know," Koray said, staring thoughtfully at his food, stomach rumbling though he'd finished his cold breakfast not so long ago. "When you found me in the garden, my crystal had just led me there. I did not get to find out why Alfrey's energies were strong there."

"My apologies," Sorin replied. "Should we go back?"

"No, the ghost isn't going anywhere."

Sorin nodded. "I had not thought Alfrey's murder would prove so complicated." He motioned to the food. "Eat, necromancer. The cooks would be mad if they knew my talking allowed the food to grow cold."

Not knowing what else to do, Koray obeyed and began slowly to eat, struggling to recall manners he had not required in more than a decade, feeling horribly outclassed alongside Sorin, who seemed to do positively everything with innate elegance.

He sipped the wine hesitantly, not able to remember the last time he'd had anything but water from a stream or the holy water in the flask hidden in his robes. After a cautious third sip, he set it aside, not willing to find out what would happen if he drank all of it.

Eating dinner alone with the Paladin. It was something he had never, in his wildest imaginings, dreamed could happen. He wondered how much longer he had until he woke alone in his tomb, shaking with cold, stomach growling with hunger, body aching from the awkward way he'd collapsed.

"So will you tell me of necromancers? Of your craft?"

Koray frowned at his plate. "Why does it matter? In two more days I will be gone and you will likely never see another necromancer."

"It matters because a wrong has long been left uncorrected," Sorin said, temper flaring. "I was always taught - the High Priest was always taught - that necromancers were the blackest of mages. That only demons are worse. Yet earlier today I heard you invoke the Goddess herself in your spell casting, learned that my touch somehow helps you, and that the Goddess herself was angry on your behalf. All of the Goddess's blessed should be treated with deference and respect. Necromancers have long been wrongly shunned and I seek to fix that. Why will you not help me?"

Koray stared, food forgotten. He blinked. "You…really believe all that, don't you?"

"Of course I believe it," Sorin said irritably. "Why would I not? If necromancers are blessed, they should be treated accordingly."

Something in Koray's chest tightened, and he could feel a sting in his eyes. Quickly he ducked his head, focusing on his food until he was able to control himself. Sorin had seemed in every way obnoxious when they'd met…now he was nothing of the sort. Now he seemed to be exactly what a Paladin should be. It was disconcerting. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything," Sorin replied, expression clearing when he realized Koray was going to cooperate. He smiled briefly. "I guess that's not very clear. Tell me…how does one become a necromancer? It does not seem to be a life which brings you much joy."

Koray looked at his plate. "There are things I like about it. Sometimes there are kind ghosts. I like the spells themselves, the scent of myrrh…" He drew a shuddering breath, blocking out images he did not want dredged up. "But to become a necromancer…how did you become a Paladin?"

"I started in the priesthood," Sorin replied ruefully. "I had too much of a temper for it. One day I was helping out a small village when it was attacked by demons - my temper proved to be beneficial, as we had not taken any holy knights with us. The next day I was handed over to the knighthood…ten years after that, after the High Paladin died, his powers found their new home in me."

"So it came naturally, in the end."

Sorin shrugged. "Many say we are born to our paths. Others say we merely find them."

Koray gazed into the empty fireplace, unable to speak for several long moments. When he finally spoke it was softly, slowly. "I was born in the village of Vosnuth."

Sorin hissed in surprise. Vosnuth…once a mountain village. Raided by bandits - everyone had been brutally killed, the village burned to the ground. When people had finally gone to investigate the smoke, there had been nothing left but ashes and a few corpses. No one had survived. Or so they thought.

"My grief refused to let them go," Koray continued. "I would not admit that death meant they were gone. So great was my grief, my adamant refusal to admit defeat, that my powers slipped toward the black just enough that I could see ghosts. I did not realize what had happened until another necromancer found me, and saved me from killing myself trying to help the ghosts of the townspeople find peace. That is how a man becomes a necromancer, Paladin."

"Goddess…"

Koray looked up at the odd, rough, tone of Sorin's voice, and was brought up short by the sheer pain that filled his face.

"That is truly the requirement?" Sorin finally managed, hands fisted on the table. "Do all necromancers have such sad tales?"

Koray shrugged. "When we happen to meet, we do not discuss it. I've no doubt they do, but I do not know their individual stories." He took a deep breath, shoved the memories aside. "What is your next question, Paladin?"

"You need not address me so formally," Sorin said. "As to questions…simply tell me of your craft. What you did down in the dungeon for instance."

"The dungeon was the simplest of what I-" Koray was cut off by a sharp rapping at the door.

Sorin glared at the door, then with a resigned sigh called for the knocker to enter.

"High Paladin, the King requests your presence at once."

"It cannot wait?" Sorin asked.

"He says not, High Paladin."

"Very well," Sorin said, standing up. "Necromancer, if you do not mind waiting, I will return shortly." He paused to speak with the servant a moment more, voice too low for Koray to catch, then with a last nod departed.

Koray sat awkwardly, uncertain what he should be doing. He jumped when the door opened and three servants came in, bearing two more trays, a flagon and glasses. They hesitated on the threshold. Mouth twisting in bitterness, Koray stood up and moved to the window, well away from the table, drawing his hood up as the servants set to work clearing the table, setting out a platter of fruit, another of pastries that smelled like cinnamon.

They never completely took their eyes off him, always watching him, distrust and suspicion plainly written on their faces. Grimacing, Koray turned his back to look outside. Maybe they thought he was laying a curse upon their precious Paladin.

When the servants finally left, Koray pushed back his hood and returned to the table but didn't sit. Instead he picked up one of the robes that had been carefully set aside, shaking it out and holding it up.

So soft, the wool by far the finest he'd even seen. Expertly stitched, and it looked as though it were all but new. It was warm to the touch, the blessing bestowed upon it lending a heat to which most would be oblivious. His current robes, by comparison, were nearly cold. Were these really his? Of course he could only take one to wear and a spare…but they would last him years if he was careful, and had a priest renew the blessings from time to time. He itched to try them on, to see if they were as wonderful as they promised to be.

The color though…would people try to take the violet robes from him? It was a color worn by the holy orders; no one would approve of a necromancer wearing them. Koray frowned, more upset than he liked to admit that he couldn't accept these robes. People would accuse him of impersonating a priest, and he didn't know what that might inspire them to do.

"You should try them on."

Koray whirled around, the robe slipping from his fingers in surprise. "How are you always sneaking up on me?" he demanded.

"I've practice aplenty in sneaking up on demons," Sorin replied, smiling. "A necromancer lost in thought is hardly a challenge. Do the robes not suit? You looked displeased."

"I am wondering what people will do to me when they think I am attempting to impersonate a priest."

Sorin stooped to retrieve the dropped robe, and as he stood, a mere step or so away, Koray was struck for the first time just how much taller the man was. Sorin also seemed to be at least twice his own weight and width. "Technically you're not - these robes are free of the markings that would normally be stitched in silver." Sorin gave a sheepish smile. "I told the High Priest you wanted old robes, but after going through the chests he preferred to give you robes that were pre-made and kept for future priests - which is why they're free of the embroidery. You should try one on - then we can finish our meal and continue our discussion."

"There's no need-" Koray stopped as Sorin thrust the robe into his hands and waited expectantly.

"We can see if they'll fit properly, so I know whether or not to harass the High Priest later."

Koray frowned at the robes, trying not to be affected by the eyes he could feel watching him. At last he shrugged. It's not as though he were doing anything wrong, even though it felt like it. Setting the robe aside, he carefully began to shrug out of his own.

Something hit the stone floor as he set it aside, and before he could move Sorin bent and retrieved the fallen object - an old leather flask. He looked at it in curiosity, then at Koray.

"Holy water," Koray replied with a grimace. "When I get too cold. It doesn't do much, but it helps." He slid his robe from his shoulders, which left him standing in old breeches, the brown homespun faded and heavily patched with bits of past robes, and an old brown shirt, as threadbare as the breeches. Around his waist was a leather belt - his one expensive piece - and affixed to it were all manner of pouches, holding the implements of his trade. Incense, his bells, a small jar of ashes that had cost him another streak of gray in his hair, flint…all the things which helped him survive but also kept him apart. The clothes were too big, hanging on his frame, but he'd never had the time or energy to tailor them as best his feeble skills allowed.

"No wonder you're always so cold, necromancer," Sorin said with a frown. "There is nothing to you but skin and bone."

"That is not why I am cold, Paladin."

"Then why?" Sorin moved forward and snatched up the violet robe before Koray could, swinging it up and around, pulling it over him, laughing softly at Koray's outraged protests. When the robe was on, he reached out to brush away the black and white strands of his hair. "Why were you so cold to the touch, before?"

Koray glared at him, then dropped his gaze to examine the robe, answering the question slowly. "I am cold, Paladin, because the ghosts constantly leech my spirit trying to communicate - oft times all they want to do is talk, but many want to cause harm. Ordinary magic calls upon a different sort of energy - that which everyone has. Mages simply have it in greater quantity."

"Yes, this I know. Necromancy is different?"

"Necromancy is communicating with the dead. With the spirit and emotions left over when people die and are not ready to rest in peace. Ordinary magic is of the living; if I am to communicate with the dead, I must use the same energy they employ - that of the spirit. Always they try to steal it, and that combined with my using it to do my work leaves me cold and weak."

He could see the confusion turn to comprehension on Sorin's face. "So the holy energies of the Goddess would replenish your spirit - and keep you warm. That is why you need priest robes…and why I was able to warm you."

"Yes," Koray said, carefully not looking at him, fingers tightening in the folds of his new robes.

Sorin laughed suddenly. "So I'm much like a fireplace to you."

Koray blinked and looked up, then quickly ducked his head again, biting his lip.

"As I said before, necromancer, laughing isn't a crime." Sorin moved past him and resumed his seat at the table. "I see they managed the pastries after all," he said with a smile, and Koray was struck suddenly by how much younger it made him look. How less like a Paladin and more like just a simple person. He looked hastily away, eyes falling on his old robes.

He could feel Sorin's eyes on him, but the Paladin thankfully did nothing more than continue with his questions. "So what else can you tell me?"

Koray shrugged. "No one has ever asked before, so I do not know what to say. I do not think the details of my spell casting would interest you…"

"Incense," Sorin muttered as he swallowed a bit of cinnamon bun. "You used myrrh. No offense, necromancer, but I do not see how you afford myrrh."

Habit drove Koray to grasp a silvery strand of his hair, play restlessly with it. "There is a sorcerer far to the north who helps necromancers. He buys the things we need and trades them for assistance with spells, experiments. I once rid a cave on his lands of the ghosts of half a dozen bandits that were haunting it. Their aura was affecting his magic in that area, as well as scaring off game, even disrupting the plants. For that, I will be well supplied with myrrh for some time yet."

Sorin nodded, eyes on Koray's hair, the fingers restlessly twisting and pulling it. "Why is your hair so strange?"

"Because some ghosts do not take kindly to what we do," Koray said, voice hoarse. "They take much from us, and leave their mark."

A chair slid across rug and then Sorin was looming over him again, and Koray started to recoil but the hand in his hair startled him into halting, unbelievable warmth combining with surprising gentleness as Sorin's fingers slid through his hair. "You bear a lot of marks."

"I've been doing this since I was ten," Koray said. "In another decade or so, there will be no black left in my hair."

"Why?" Sorin asked softly. "Why do you so something that obviously causes you so much pain?"

Koray let out a soft sigh. "It is not all bad, and I could no more walk away from it than you could from being High Paladin." He looked at the tapestries but saw all the places he'd been over the years. "There was a village I once helped - the whole place had a gloomy feel to it. Heavy and dark. Nothing grew well there, as hard as they tried. I was passing through and noticed the wrongness…I began to seek it out, and despite the welcome I did not receive," his mouth twisted at the unpleasant memory, "I discovered a girl had been…brutally treated and then killed some years ago. Her ghost haunted the entire village, so great was her rage and grief. I told them what she told me - what had occurred, who had done it, and after that set her to rest. I told them to have the entire village blessed and went on my way." With an old rind of cheese, a loaf of bread, and an old shirt for payment - and those only from the family of the girl's ghost. No one else had been happy to hear who had killed her. "If you were to go there now, you would see the village is prospering. Such is the work of a necromancer."

"What I do not understand is why no one is aware of all this."

"Because they do not want to be aware, Paladin. No one likes death, why should they have any fondness for those of us who are, relatively speaking, comfortable with it?" Koray sighed. "It does not matter. They employ us when they need to. We get by, and even if no one else realizes it, we know we do the work of the Goddess." He finally turned back to Sorin. "Communicating with ghosts is not always an awful thing." Here was a question he'd never asked anyone, and he didn't know why he was about to do it now. "Would you like to see one?"

Sorin stopped whatever he'd been about to say, expression dumbfounded as Koray's words struck him. "What? See one? A ghost? That's impossible."

Koray laughed at the look on his face, then abruptly slapped a hand over his mouth. He turned sharply away. "I can show you one, if you want."

"It…won't hurt you?"

"No…not really. I've done far worse than what I'm about to do. Do you…really want to see?" He looked suspiciously at Sorin, still waiting for the moment when the Paladin turned, denounced him, banished him from the castle.

Sorin, however, simply nodded, a stubborn expression settling on his face. "Yes, necromancer, I would like to see a ghost."

"All right…" Koray said, genuinely surprised. He had not expected Sorin to agree so readily - or even at all. "The one in the garden, then - I was about to seek it out when you found me."

"Very well." Sorin snatched one last bit of his cinnamon bun from his plate and then strode to the door, opening it and waiting for Koray, who drew up his hood and bemusedly followed. In the hallways, he led the way through the corridors, down the stairs and eventually back to the garden. "What now, necromancer?"

Koray stepped into the center of the garden, just off the stone path, and eased the barriers he had learned to instinctively keep up against ghosts, somewhat puzzled that he did not immediately see the ghost haunting the garden though he could feel her readily enough…and he definitely sensed the ghost was female.

Energy rippled behind him and he turned toward the eastern wall. Smiling, Koray drew his hood back and greeted her. "Hale, sweet sister. Are we disturbing you?"

The ghost, a pale, silvery image of a beautiful young woman in garb not worn by maids for several decades, smiled at him and shook her head. Her hair was neatly plaited atop her head, a few silvery flowers tucked into the plait. She stood up and brushed off her skirts, then curtsied to him.

Koray's smile widened. A happy spirit. One of those rare beings who loved the world too much to ever find happiness in the light beyond. "Would you mind speaking with me?"

The ghost shook her head, and clasped her hands neatly in front of her, waiting patiently. Then her eyes widened, staring past Koray's shoulder, and her silvery cheeks flushed dark.

Koray's lips quirked faintly in amusement. A ghost smitten with the High Paladin. How amusing. "Do you come to this garden often, High Paladin?"

"My name is Sorin, you may call me by it, necromancer," Sorin said calmly. "And yes, I do. It's my favorite spot." He paused. "Alfrey favored this garden as well. It's much more secluded than the public gardens. Most days I think all but the royal gardeners forget about it."

"There's a ghost here, a peaceful one." Koray laughed softly, briefly, as he looked at Sorin as the man drew up beside him. "She seems enamored of you."

Sorin blinked. "A ghost? Enamored? How is that possible?" He stopped. "Peaceful you say?"

Koray explained, noting the way the ghost shied away, cheeks darker than ever as Sorin drew closer, stopping beside him. "Keep your eye on the wall," Koray said softly, then drew a small stick of myrrh from the pouch at his waist. Lighting it, he knelt and drove the end into a bit of earth clear of grass. Standing, he addressed the ghost. "Were you buried here, sweet sister?"

The ghost spread her arms wide, indicating the whole of the garden, then pointed to the incense.

"Ah," Koray said softly in comprehension. "Burned and scattered?"

The ghost nodded.

"That makes things easier," Koray said, and drew a small dagger. Pulling back the sleeves of his robe and shirt, he drew the dagger across his forearm, wincing at the sharp pain - ignoring Sorin's demand to know what he was doing - and watched as the blood welled up, began to drip over and down his arm, then turned it so blood splashed on the ground, moving so that he covered various portions of the garden with it.

He looked to the ghost, nodding as she seemed to solidify. Cleaning the dagger and sheathing it, he then drew out a cloth with which to temporarily bind his wound. Dozens of similar marks traced up and down the length of both his forearms.

Next he drew his silver bells, and shook them hard five times. With each shake, the ghost grew more solid, more there and with the fifth ring he knew by Sorin's gasp that he was not the only one who could see and hear her. Already he could feel the cold seeping through his body, the tiredness that came with making a ghost visible to others, but some part of him said he should be doing this and so Koray pressed on. "What is your name?"

Bellesandra, my lords. Everyone called me Belle. She curtsied low, peeking shyly at Sorin.

"This garden makes you happy, Belle?" Koray asked.

Yes, my lord. There is no place I love more, though I miss the days my Queen would come and talk with me. I love the flowers, the people - especially the lovers. The garden is happiest when it is able to shelter those who seek it out for such things. Her smile was sweet as she spoke. How can I help you, my lords?

"Tell me, Belle, was there a pair of lovers that came here recently. One a priest, the other a servant girl?"

Belle nodded immediately. They were always so sad, even while they were happy.

Koray looked askance at Sorin, who stared wide-eyed at the silvery woman. He smirked briefly, then returned his attention to Belle. "Was there another who saw them? And did not seem happy about it?"

Belle frowned. Yes…but I could never see who. He was…hidden from me. I know not how. The feel of his magic was foul.

"Black magic," Sorin hissed, shock fading as his duty reasserted itself. "But how can I not sense it? That such a thing fouls my castle, right before my eyes! Have you anything else to tell us, Mistress Belle?"

Cheeks flushing dark, Belle shook her head. I do not know, Lord High Paladin. Have you other questions?

"Why did he not tell me?" Sorin asked, speaking more to himself. "I was his friend. I would have done whatever he asked."

He was going to, I believe. At least, he often talked of doing so. I think he feared disappointing you, for after the woman you were dearest to him.

Sorin nodded, but did appear comforted by the words.

Koray thought. "What else can you tell us of the one you cannot see?"

No warmth emanated from him.

A chill raced up Koray's spine. "That makes no sense."

"What do you mean?"

"All living things radiate 'warmth' - she means spiritual energy. Magicians, priests, and you of course, radiate much more than ordinary people. Even those who practice the black arts radiate it. Even demons have spirit…" Koray drifted off, unable to believe where his thoughts were taking him. Surely it was not possible…

"Impossible," Sorin said. "Surely I would have noticed such a thing as a lack of spirit."

Koray shrugged. "Who knows? I have never heard of such a thing." He shook his head. "Thank you, Belle. Have you anything you would like to say?"

Thank you for speaking with me. I am sorry it brings you pain to do so. Happiness to you both. Please do visit the garden, it loves people.

"Our pleasure, Belle. Thank you." With that, the last of the incense burned away, and with one sharp, jarring ring of his bells, Koray broke the spell and Belle vanished. With a soft groan, he sank to his knees, feeling sick and cold.

A hand landed on his shoulder, then arms wrapped around him. "Are you all right?"

"I will be," Koray replied. "You need not worry yourself over me."

Sorin frowned. "Why do you reject my offers of aid? Is it not my duty to help and protect all those in need?"

"Yes," Koray said, "but after I puzzle out your murder I will be leaving." Better not to get attached to what he'd never have. In two more days he would be leaving, once more alone, following the wind, with nothing but his robes and flask to keep him warm when what the Paladin had already given him finally was depleted.

"You should rest."

"There is no time," Koray snapped. "Belle said the man she sensed but could not see had no warmth. That means he has no spirit. Which means something very strange is going on." A sudden thought struck him. "Even stranger - when I first arrived, the room in which Alfrey died reeked of necromancy…yet if as Belle says this man lacks spirit…there is no way he could be a necromancer. You cannot be a necromancer without spirit."

"As you say," Sorin said grimly. "I will grant that high magic makes people mad at times, but that does not explain this, not in its entirety, I think. We are missing something." He glared at Koray. "However, we are not doing a thing more about it until you have rested. The matter has held this long, it will hold a little longer. Come, we'll return to my quarters." Grabbing Koray's hand, giving him no chance to argue, Sorin all but dragged him from the garden.

*~*~*

The woman in the garden…a ghost…

He would never forget that wonder. What must it be like to see them everywhere…though from the way Koray shuddered, the streaks in his hair, clearly few of the ghosts he saw were like Belle.

It was beyond his imagining, the things Koray must see every single day. What had it been like for him in the dungeon? Even he shuddered to think of all that must have once transpired down there.

Sorin looked up from his glass of brandy to voice a question - and was brought up short to see that Koray had fallen asleep in his chair, head back, hands still curled loosely around his own brandy, which looked as though it had not been touched.

Had calling the ghost forth exhausted him so completely?

He grimaced at the memory of how calmly Koray had sliced open his own arm. He'd seen far worse in battle, in the tents of the healers, but to so calmly see a man cut his own flesh…and there had been more marks than he could count on the pale skin.

More than once he had felt weighed down by the burden laid upon his shoulders. To be High Paladin was no small thing - commanding the armies, controlling the power of the Goddess, to know that always people looked to him for guidance, support, strength…but he was not certain he had the strength to be a necromancer.

Sorin pondered all that Koray had told him. No…he could not have been a necromancer.

Pushing his brandy aside, Sorin stood and moved to where Koray sat and slowly eased him from his seat, lifting the slender, far too light man and carrying him over to the bed.

The will of the Goddess in him was a quiet, steadying hum. All that he'd done this evening was, in her mind, the right thing to do. He realized it also made him feel more settled, to do all that he had - even if much of it had been arguing with the confounding Koray. Strange, to feel so settled, but he'd learned long ago not to fight such feeling. Sighing softly, Sorin laid him out on the bed. He hesitated a moment, then opened the robes enough to find the clasp on the bulky leather belt Koray wore and slowly, carefully, worked it free. Setting it on the table near the bed, he then pulled his boots off and finally tugged up the blankets. After a last look to make sure the necromancer rested, he returned to the table and his glass of brandy.

He contemplated all that they'd learned of Alfrey's death, the rage of the goddess flaring, blending with his own.

Someone with no spirit had killed them both. Whoever it was, they were capable of torturing a woman and leaving her to bleed to death.

How had all this happened right beneath him? How had he missed it? Agony tore through him and Sorin abandoned his brandy to bury his face in his hands. How! A woman murdered and he, like everyone else, had simply assumed she'd run away. A dear friend dead. All done by a man with no spirit - something he felt he should have noticed. Surely he would have noticed such a thing - did he not sense demons when they were close by?

But demons had something for him to sense - a sort of twisted opposite of that which humans radiated. If there was nothing there…then clearly there was nothing to sense. Still…wouldn't the emptiness itself be something?

He was confusing himself.

The point was that these terrible things had happened right in front of him and he had seen none of it. It had taken bringing in a necromancer to learn what he had learned so far.

Almost reflexively Sorin turned to the bed, the black and white hair all that was visible, the rest of the slight man buried in the blankets. He smiled faintly.

It was fascinating, really, the differences between Koray when he was awake and when he slept. Equally fascinating was how hard the man slept - he did not think that a full battle would stir Koray from his sleep.

Just as intriguing was how adamantly Koray refused his help when, as near as Sorin could see, he had full right to call upon it. Certainly he had more right than the countless who asked for his prayers and blessings when a simple priest would have more than sufficed. The way the King constantly summoned him to attend trivial matters…like the missive sent earlier that evening. An utterly trivial matter, yet the King had summoned him to deal with it. Sorin grimaced and took a sip of brandy.

Bells tolled outside, followed by the cheers of his knights, and Sorin chuckled softly. Time for supper. He wished he could return to his regular duties…though…truly he found the thought depressing.

For no longer would he see Alfrey in the afternoons - sometimes in the garden, other times behind the cathedral, occasionally for a ride through the countryside. His friend was dead, something he'd been struggling to keep in the back of his mind so that he could focus on finding the killer.

No doubt discovering the killer would also cause a great many problems.

…And with the solving of the mystery, Koray would depart. He had said as much. There was no reason for him to stay. Why did that thought upset him? He could not even blame it on the Goddess - though Her power obviously flared with satisfaction at the thought of Koray remaining, his own feelings on the matter were quite separate.

He wanted the thorny necromancer to stay. Why?

Sorin was spared having to discover the answer by the stirring of the object of his thoughts.

"What? Koray asked sleepily, sitting up in a tangle of robes and blankets. He glowered as he figured out where he was. "Why did you not wake me? Why am I here?" Scrambling from the bed as though it were on fire, Koray tugged his boots on and slid his belt back into place, fingers straying to his messy hair as he stalked over to the table.

"You looked as though you could use the rest," Sorin said, taking a sip of brandy to hide his smile.

"We have more important things to do," Koray snapped, his thorns coming out in force, those pale gray eyes flashing.

Sorin sighed and set his glass down. "As I said before, necromancer, if the matter has kept this long it will keep a little longer. It is not as though we know what to do…unless necromancers have spells for finding a man that even ghosts, apparently, cannot see. Such spells are not among a Paladin's repertoire, and it seems I cannot sense a lack of spirit." He tried to keep the bitterness at himself out of his voice, but could tell from Koray's brief glance that he had failed.

Koray moved to his seat and cross his arms over his chest - but a moment later fingers strayed to his hair, and he began to twist and tug it as he thought. The habit was…oddly endearing. Sorin was taken aback by the thought. Surely…surely he was not growing fond of the thorny necromancer?

Yet the way his own thoughts settled, and the faintest twinge from the Goddess, told him that his realization was an accurate one.

"My magic searches out the dead," Koray said, interrupting his thoughts, blessedly distracting him. "I cannot find the living, and even if I could his magic sounds too powerful to be threatened by my meager efforts." He sighed. "If I am lucky, eventually I will come to the place where Alfrey's ghost is hidden - but again, that seems unlikely. I have never encountered magic that could steal a ghost like a necromancer, hide from prying eyes like a sorcerer, and emit no warmth! He should not even be able to live with spirit. I do not see how it is possible for him to have done all that he has."

"It is also magic that I have not sensed, and were it black magic - which surely it must be - I would have. Truly it seems to be magic gone afoul."

"Hmm…" Koray began to tug hard on his hair again. "Perhaps there is a way…." He stood up and opened a pouch, pulling out a crystal that looked like frozen smoke. "Better to try and fail than do nothing, I suppose."

Sorin stood up and moved around the table, eyeing Koray and the crystal glittering on a silver chain. He carefully rested a hand on Koray's shoulder. "Are you certain you're rested enough?"

Koray stiffened beneath his hand, though Sorin was coming to realize it was from surprise, not anger. "I'm fine," he said shortly. He stepped away and stood in the middle of the room, staring thoughtfully at the smoky crystal fastened to a silver chain lying still in his hand.

"What are you going to try?"

"Remember the village I told you about? The one with the girl?"

"Yes…"

Koray didn't look up from the crystal, eyes paling as he began to fall into the trance of spell casting. His voice leveled out as he spoke, taking on the rhythms that would eventually turn into gentle chanting. "It was large, and so poisoned with her misery and anger that I could not pinpoint where she was. Ghosts don't necessarily appear as Belle did - sometimes they are simply energy…a presence. To locate the source of the rage - where she had died - I had to use this crystal. To follow Alfrey's trail, I used a clear crystal - because I was looking for things connected specifically to him. A dark crystal is more general. I use it to pinpoint ghosts that try to hide from me, or like the girl from the village, have spread themselves out too much for me to communicate clearly."

"So…you are going to use this crystal to find the killer? How?"

"General searches like this search out where things are 'coldest' - where there is a creature who would badly like to take my energy. Ghosts constantly sap the strength of those around them, if those people do not know - instinctively or by way of instruction - how to block them. In a castle like this, people have instinctively learned to block them, but still the ghosts and their unhappiness weigh people down. I…it is for ghosts, so I do not know if it will work, but if I spell it to look for where there is the greatest lack of spirit, rather than a strong ghost perhaps it will light on the person who has no spirit. I promise nothing."

Sorin nodded. "Of course. You are proving far more useful than I, necromancer, whether you fail or succeed. If it does not work, we shall simply think of something else. I feel, Koray, that I owe you a great deal more than food, a few robes, and a night in my rude company."

Koray turned to look at him, gray eyes darker than Sorin could recall seeing them - he had already noticed that when Koray did magic, they turned as pale as mist, and flashed silver. "You need not worry about payment, Paladin. Already you've done more than anyone ever has." He started to say something more, but shook his head and went back to his crystal. "Now, do not break my concentration."

Sorin nodded, let the matter drop, but vowed silently to resume it later. He watched, endlessly fascinated by magic so unlike his own, as Koray began to spell the crystal, chanting words Sorin couldn't understand, words that sent a shiver down his spine, watching the way Koray's eyes faded to the color of mist and flashed pure silver as he finished.

"We go," Koray said softly, eyes distant, unfocused, as he fell into the spell of the crystal which had begun to swing gently from its silver chain. Double checking his armor and sword, the thrumming of his power telling him this was correct and he would shortly need both, Sorin followed Koray into the hallway, motioning all and sundry out of their way as Koray continued walking along in his trance-like state.

Slowly they made their way through the halls, traveling down to the main level, and with a sinking feeling Sorin realized they were headed for the main dining hall. That meant it could be one of any number of people, and he would have to face them amidst a crowd of people.

Sorin loosed his sword in its sheath as they entered the dining hall, ignoring all those who called to him, the curious glances as they realized he was following behind Koray. His skin prickled with barely restrained power. The Goddess sensed something…yet she never had before. Why? He looked at the man before him. Perhaps the necromancer made all the difference.

As they crossed the room, ignoring the long tables on either side, Sorin felt a sick feeling settle in his gut. They were headed for the main table. As they approached it, the conversation between the King and a handful of his advisors and closest friends slowly halted.

Koray moving unerringly toward the table and halted directly in front of the King, his dark crystal swinging wildly. Sorin's feeling of dread grew. The King's rusty brown eyes watched them with barely-repressed rage. "High Paladin," he said, voice cutting like a knife, "what is the meaning of this?"

Sorin ignored him for the moment, reaching out to catch Koray, who stumbled as his spell trance finally halted. Koray gasped to see where he was, for even disoriented it was impossible to miss what he'd just done. Sorin wrapped an arm around his waist and drew the necromancer back, out of harm's way.

Movement caught the corner of his vision, and Sorin turned slightly to see the High Priest standing. "Sorin?"

"High Priest," Sorin replied. "Please confirm that I am in no way bespelled or otherwise affected."

"You are clean, High Paladin, strong arm of the Goddess," the High Priest promptly replied, something spurring him to fall into formality. "By Her name and power, I pronounce you free of all enchantment."

Sorin bowed. "I thank you, High Priest." He turned to address the crowded room, voice booming out. "Three days ago the Priest Alfrey was brutally murdered. We could not solve the mystery. As a last effort, we bid a necromancer come and speak with the ghost we hoped yet remained of our murdered brother." He pitched his voice higher as cries and chatter broke out, drowning the room in a cacophony of noise. "The necromancer has said that a man with no spirit, a man who can use necromancy and sorcery, has killed our brother and stolen his ghost."

Something in his voice silenced the room - or perhaps his words were too much for them to understand. Feeling sick, hating every bit of this, wishing he was anywhere else - but unable to deny the fury of the Goddess that bid him do this - Sorin turned back to the King.

"King Rofell," he said levelly, "the necromancer has identified you as lacking a spirit. Why?"

"What absurdity is this?" Rofell demanded, voice striking like a whip. "High Paladin, you're out of line. Have you been spelled by that foul blood drinker?" He laughed contemptuously. "No spirit! If that were true, I would be dead."

"No," Koray said softly. "Apparently not, for you are very much alive. I would know how. I would also know why you have done the things you've done."

Rofell sneered. "I will have both your heads for this, High Paladin."

"Wrong," Sorin said. "Koray, are you certain?" He knew the answer, but he had to ask.

"Yes," Koray said. "There is nothing in him. When I first arrived, his eyes bothered me. They seemed wrong. Now I know why - there is no warmth behind them."

Rofell stood up, hands braced on the table. Around him nobles and courtiers tripped over each other to get away from the bloodshed that was about to take place. "This is your last warning, Paladin. Why have you let the necromancer lead you astray?"

"The only one who has been led astray, King, is you." Sorin forced the words, still finding it hard to believe that Rofell was the murderer. He was not especially fond of Rofell, for the man was lazy, given to anger, but he had not thought…

"I order you to cease this at once, Paladin!" Rofell slammed his fist on the table.

Sorin held his sword high, the violet jewel of the Goddess within shining bright as he loosed his power, the power of his Goddess. "You do not command me, King, unless the Goddess wills it." The stone burned bright, and his power flared hot enough to make him sweat. "Rofell, I command you to Speak. Did you murder Alfrey, Priest of the Goddess?"

Rofell's face twisted into an ugly scowl, turning red, then purple, with his effort to resist Sorin's power.

"Speak!" Sorin roared, and Rofell collapsed, barely catching himself on the table, as the power of the Goddess forced his submission. Around him everyone but the High Priest fled, desperate to be anywhere but close to the King. "Did you kill Alfrey?"

"Yes," Rofell gasped out.

"Why?" Sorin asked coldly, barely noticing the noise that erupted around him.

The expression on Rofell's face was hideous, awful, so contorted that Sorin was kept from recoiling only by the power that moved through him. "Because he would not listen to me. Because of that slut peasant. I am King! A million times better than that whore."

"What strange magic do you use?" Koray asked.

When Rofell did not speak, Sorin once more loosed his power. "Speak!"

"Southern magic," Rofell gasped out.

Koray hissed in surprise. "Alchemy. You have mastered the art of alchemy. How? No one here knows it. More, that does not explain the lack of spirit."

"Speak," Sorin commanded.

Rofell laughed, something like triumph further twisting his foul features, putting a strange, sick light in his rust-brown eyes. "On the hunting trip…I met a demon who had slipped past the barrier. We made a bargain."

The power in Sorin recoiled, sparked, and he almost felt nauseous with the waves of the Goddess' anger. "Where is the ghost of Alfrey?" When Rofell resisted, he climbed the steps of the dais and grabbed the former King roughly by the scruff of his shirt. "Tell me!" he said, power pouring off him, making Rofell writhe in pain.

"All right!" Rofell shouted, gasping for breath. Around his neck was a heavy ruby amulet set in gold. Rofell wrapped his fingers around it. Sorin knocked his hand away and yanked it from his neck, then tossed it to Koray.

Koray gasped and nearly dropped it. "This is it. But I've never seen such a thing…is this alchemy? To trap a spirit so in a stone? I could not sense it until I touched it…"

"Yes," Rofel