Dirge for a Necromancer - By Ash Stinson Page 0,28

chuckle. “How could you not?” he asked. “Kurok turned the whole eastern half of Zylekkha into a wasteland. His Guardians roam the kingdom; it’s not hard to track them down. Hell, I’ve seen the Dragon Guardian, Nekkdan, five times since I’ve been stationed in this fort. That doesn’t leave a lot of room for doubt, Magician Raettonus. Not unless you try very, very hard.”

Raettonus scoffed lightly and turned his pale red gaze back on the statue. “If you don’t want their attention, it sure is a funny direction to go—what with all the prayers and such.”

The Captain of the Garrison ran a hand through his hair and laughed softly. “You might think that, yes,” he said. “But the key is, in Zylxian prayers you don’t pray as an individual. You say, for instance, ‘Kurok, I am a warrior and I serve the Royal Zylekkhan Army and yourself. Protect me and my brothers.’ So you pray as a warrior—part of a whole, but not anything worth notice. Or you say, ‘Syrinna Teba, there are sick people in this world who would benefit from your healing touch,’ or maybe, ‘Virkki, we’re going into a war and would like your blessing so that we may die for our brothers.’ You never pray that ‘I want’ anything. That way you don’t draw their attention.”

“Is that so?” Raettonus asked. He pondered that for a moment. “How about Kimohr Raulinn?”

“The chaos god?”

“No, Kimohr Raulinn the gardener. Yes, the chaos god—who else would I mean?” snapped Raettonus. He let out a sigh and looked around. “I notice there are statues of all the other major gods here, but not him.”

“Kimohr Raulinn is a traitor to Kurok,” said Daeblau, as though it should be obvious. “Statues of Kimohr Raulinn are not kept in the holy kingdoms. I hear they worship him in Kyshem’mur, but it’s common knowledge that the Kyshem people are idiots who live in a horrible country. They’re mostly elves, on top of it all. It’s no wonder their kingdom falls to pieces every few months.”

“I heard it was bad luck to say his name aloud,” Raettonus said.

“I’ve never heard that before,” answered Daeblau, looking amused. “Did you hear it from an elf in Ti Tunfa? They’re silly, superstitious things, elves are. They have all kinds of beliefs about things like that. No mirrors can be brought into a temple, say the elves, and always sleep with your head facing east, toward the Noa Lokul, and if a vampire attacks you, you should scatter sand because he’ll need to count it.” His smile widened. “That last one is why the great King Daebrish drove them into the Koa Kurok, you know. ‘Sand paralyzes vampires?’ said Daebrish. ‘Well, then, we’ll give them so much sand that they’ll never bother anyone again.’ He was a good man. I’m a distant descendant of his, you know. I don’t expect you to understand the complex naming traditions of centaurian society, Magician, but the ‘dae’ in my name comes from my father’s side, which could be traced back to Daebrish.”

Raettonus did, in fact, understand centaurian naming traditions. He understood, most of all that the “dae” in Daebrish and Daeblau was there to mark it as a bastard’s name. He held his tongue on that point, and instead asked, “So, then, you don’t think saying his name would draw his attention toward you?”

“Well, Magician—no, quite frankly. I don’t think so,” Daeblau said. “The thing about Kimohr Raulinn is that he watches everyone. You can’t draw his attention by saying his name, because you already drew his attention by being alive. Now, prayers to Kimohr Raulinn…those are another matter.”

“Do tell.”

“It’s bad luck to ever pray to him,” said Daeblau. “Because, no matter how much you present a plea as part of a greater whole, he still treats it as an individual’s wish. I don’t like to admit it, but prayers to other gods, by and large, fall on deaf ears. Prayers to Kimohr Raulinn, on the other hand… Well. The difference between other gods and Kimohr Raulinn is that Kimohr Raulinn can be summoned.”

“Summoned, you say?” The magician raised one thin eyebrow and pursed his lips. “If he can be summoned, then he can be bound,” Raettonus said, leaning against the statue of Cykkus.

Daeblau winced, though whether it was at the idea or at his leaning against the statue, Raettonus couldn’t tell. “Perhaps he could be bound,” he said, furrowing his brow. “Though, even for as renowned a magician as yourself, I’m sure