The Power and the Glory

Book 1 Chapter V: A Fairy-tale of Lies

A nightmare for some, for others a saviour I come, my hands cold and bleak, it's the warm hearts they seek. What am I? (Answer: death.) -- Unknown

In the end it was the crypt that gave Abihira an idea. Why should she go looking for corpses when she could find them by the dozen in graveyards?

Immortals were not truly immortal. They got their name through a series of misunderstandings, bad translations, and outright lies. They lived far longer than the mortals they encountered on other planets. But they could die. They could be killed. Every city, town and village had its own graveyard. Every building's foundation was laid among the dust of long-dead immortals. Dig deep enough in the ground beneath her feet and she knew she would find the bone fragments of forgotten people who had once thought they could never die.

Maybe one day I'll be able to bring them back, Abihira thought, idly scuffing the ground with her foot.

Irímé was supposed to arrive this afternoon. He was going to stay for the festival, Grandmother would make the formal announcement of the upcoming wedding afterwards, and then he would go home until shortly before the actual wedding. Abihira's parents were running around like headless chickens, making last-minute preparations and getting in each other's way. The chaos quickly got too much for her, so she brought some of her books -- the "harmless" ones, with no mention of necromancy -- out to the garden. Now she sat in one of the swings her oldest sister had built years ago, with a book open in her lap and her thoughts miles away.

At some point she would have to have a serious conversation with Irímé. Partly about the necromancy. She had no intentions of giving that up for anyone. But also about her feelings towards him. Or lack thereof.

She knew perfectly well that Irímé didn't love her any more than she loved him. He was only a friend, and not even her best friend. Perhaps he knew her feelings already. She had never made any attempt to hide her lack of romantic interest. Even so, it was only fair to tell him the truth now. It would be horribly awkward and embarrassing, but it would save so much trouble later.

For all she knew he might very well be the same as her. Never in their long acquaintance had he showed any hint of attraction to her or any other woman. Or to any man, for that matter.

The book slipped out of her hands and landed on the grass with a dull thump. The sound brought her thoughts back to reality and out of the rabbit trails they'd run down. For a minute she couldn't even remember what she'd been thinking of earlier.

Oh yes. Graveyards.

If it wasn't for that dratted festival she would have found no difficulty in leaving the palace for as long as she wanted to. Perhaps her parents would have insisted she take a maid or two with her. Even that wasn't certain; she was far enough down the line of succession that no assassin or kidnapper would find her a worthwhile target. And her years in Seroyawa had ensured most people didn't know what she looked like, probably didn't know she was back in Eldrin, and in any case they didn't particularly care.

But now her parents wouldn't leave her alone for an hour at a time. Unless they sent her off to visit her motley assortment of nearby relatives, every day was an eternal succession of, "Abihira! What do you think of this dress?" or "We have to plan the menu!" or something equally exasperating. Sometimes they even telepathically asked her questions while she was trying to have a conversation with whoever she was visiting.

If this was a real marriage, Abihira would have asked Irímé to elope with her by now.

Right on cue her mother's voice telepathically filled her head. Abihira! Come and have a look at wedding jewellery.