Dirge for a Necromancer - By Ash Stinson Page 0,42

been, leading Raettonus by the arm to his art room to continue painting him. Raettonus settled into his seat on the couch as Deggho took his place behind the canvas and began mixing up his paints. “So,” said Raettonus as the goblin began to work. “We’re under siege.”

“Siege? From who? Is it the Kariss?” asked Deggho hopefully.

“The Tahlehson army,” Raettonus answered, shaking his head.

Deggho’s large, jagged ears lowered. “Oh, I see,” he said. He rubbed his brush in some paint. “That’s…unfortunate. Is it a big host?”

“Fairly large,” Raettonus said. “Only a portion of them stayed here. The rest sailed on to God knows where.”

“I suppose they’d have gone north, toward Bribarrah,” Deggho suggested. “If they’re smart though, I suspect they won’t attack Bribarrah. Its wall is said to be the strongest in the entire realm. It’d be a waste of time.”

Raettonus nodded. “I suppose that in their place,” he said after a moment, “I would probably land on the western coast and march inland. Sae Noklu has most of the farmland, and there’s no wall around any of it. Razing it would cripple Bribarrah and all the fortresses on the southern coast.”

“If they manage to break into Kaebha, do you think they’ll keep me as a hostage?” Deggho wondered. “The Kariss hate the Zylekkhan centaurs, but we don’t have a reason to hate the Tahlehsons. Maybe they’ll release me in hopes of gaining an alliance.”

“I somehow doubt it,” said Raettonus. “After all, what could the Kariss possibly offer them? They’re an extensive, trained army. The Kariss weren’t able to take down Kaebha, where—if that comes to pass—the Tahlehson were.”

Deggho frowned. “You say that like the Kariss are completely useless,” he said. “My people are powerful warriors. We kill dragons.”

“How awe inspiring,” said Raettonus dryly. “Honestly though, that’s not enough to make the Kariss an ally of any interest to actual soldiers.”

Deggho mumbled something to himself in his native tongue, but dropped the argument. They sat in a silence broken only by the softly crackling torches on the walls and the faint sound of Deggho’s brush on the canvas. After a while, the goblin leaned back in his chair. “I’m finished,” he announced, a look of pride swelling on his face. “If I may say, I think this might be one of the best portraits I’ve ever done.”

He turned the easel so Raettonus could see the picture. There was no denying it was a handsome image, nearly flawless in its likeness of the magician. It showed him from head to chest, gazing at something far distant with half-closed eyes and a tight expression of disgust. Behind him, embers swirled in the darkness, and stray strands of his hair blew in the same strange wind. All in all, it was a very masterfully done piece of art, and Raettonus found it rather impressive, to say the least.

Deggho looked eagerly at Raettonus while he studied the painting, plainly waiting on his approval. How much would it crush him, Raettonus wondered, if I were to tell him I hated it?

“Oh,” said Raettonus blandly. “It’s… Well, thank you anyway.”

One of Deggho’s eyes twitched as he gripped tightly to the easel. “What?” he asked frantically. “What’s wrong? You don’t like it? What did I do wrong?”

“No, nothing,” said Raettonus with a shrug. “Certainly I like it.”

“You don’t sound like you do,” mumbled Deggho. “If you don’t like it, please, tell me how I can—”

“No, no,” said Raettonus, barely containing a smirk at the goblin’s dismay. “I do like it. It’s…nice. No, really. It’s very…nice.”

The goblin seemed close to tears. “Oh,” he said. “I…I could repaint it, if you want.”

“No, no, it’s all right,” Raettonus said, waving his hand dismissively. “I should be going, then.”

“Wait, don’t go,” said Deggho, grabbing Raettonus’ hand and squeezing it tightly. His flesh was clammy and unpleasant. “You only just got down here. I…I don’t want to be left alone.”

“I have other places to be,” Raettonus said coldly, pulling himself out of Deggho dek’Kariss’ grip.

“But—you’ll be back tomorrow, right?” asked Deggho. He was beginning to grow somewhat panicked. “Please—you’ve got to come back tomorrow. If you don’t, I won’t know what to do with myself. I hate it down here, Raettonus. There’s a room filled with weapons in this wing, and sometimes I go into there and I sit and I look at all those old swords and I think ‘what would it be like, if I just jammed this into my stomach?’ I don’t know that I’d have enough strength to