Dirge for a Necromancer - By Ash Stinson Page 0,88

Magician?”

“No, it isn’t,” Raettonus said, replacing the little leather-bound book in the place between worlds. “It’s Sir Slade’s.”

“Ah! The man with the glowing eyes, right?” said Diahsis. “He’s a handsome fellow, isn’t he?”

“Mm. I suppose so.”

“He has a nose almost just the same as my late lover,” Diahsis said with a sigh. “Rysah—that was my lover’s name. He died.”

“Fascinating,” said Raettonus flatly. “Actually, I don’t really care about your lover or his nose.”

“He was handsome,” Diahsis said, paying Raettonus no mind. “And he was smart too. So smart. He had all these books, and he spoke all these languages… He was enormous, too—just massive. Six and half foot, or maybe a little taller. He’s dead now.”

“So you said.”

“Did I? Oh… Well, he’s dead,” said Diahsis. “I burned his body in Virsah. There’s this big statue of Cykkus at the temple there, and that’s where we did it.”

“Entrancing,” said Raettonus, rolling his eyes. “Really, now, are we done with this?”

Diahsis shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know,” he said. “I guess so. We can talk of something else, I guess. Oh, like dragons! I almost killed a dragon… Almost. Next time, I will kill it. I’ll land the finishing blow. I’ll be magnificent. You should be there, Magician. You should see me.”

“I’m not interested in hunting dragons,” Raettonus told him bluntly.

“But, dragons, Magician!” said Diahsis, leaning his face into Raettonus’ shoulder. The cloth of the magician’s tunic muffled his words. “Dragons. They’re enormous, and they have these claws that just—that crush stone, and they do not feel fear.”

“And what is your point?” Raettonus asked. “Those are bad reasons to hunt dragons. There really aren’t any good reasons, since it’s so much more trouble than it’s worth.”

“Worth? Ha!” Diahsis sighed contently. “Magician, I can’t really tell you the worth of killing a dragon if you don’t already understand it. But… But it’s… Have you faced down a dragon? It gets your whole body going—all the blood and the sweat and the heat, just moving around your body. It’s like being on fire.”

“I’ve been on fire, actually. Pretty regularly in fact. I was on fire earlier today, come to think,” Raettonus said. “I can tell you, you probably couldn’t imagine what being on fire is like. You should go talk to my servant Rhodes. He could tell you.”

Diahsis frowned for a moment. “Rhodes?” he asked. “Ah, never mind it. Tell me, Magician, why won’t you come work for me? Help me take Zylekkha?”

“I’ve already told you,” Raettonus said tiredly. “I have no interest in your war.”

“That’s why we’d pay you—pay you to take an interest in it,” said Diahsis. “Come, now, Magician, be a little reasonable.”

“I’m being perfectly reasonable,” Raettonus told him flatly. “You tell me, General. Just why should I care who rules Zylekkha? I mean, whether it’s the Zylekkhan king sitting the throne here or the Tahlehson king, it has nothing to do with me. King Shalrish, King Saemohr—I’m going to outlive the both of them, you know, and probably their whole goddamn dynasties. Why should I care about this skirmish?”

“It’s more than a skirmish,” scoffed Diahsis. “This is a war bards will sing of for ages to come. They’ll tell stories about it, Magician. Stories. I’m going to be in those stories too. I’m going to be a hero. They’re going to sing about me like they sing about Daebrish. They’re going to paint me and hang my portraits up on walls.”

“Sounds fantastic,” Raettonus replied flatly. “A good thing you’ve got going, certainly. Just a shame that’s not actually going to happen.”

“Of course it’ll happen. I’ll make it happen,” Diahsis said, an easy smile on his full lips. “I’m going to be so absolutely breathtaking that they’ll have to be crazy not to sing my praises. I’m going to make the world shake, Magician. I’m going to make the sky rain blood. I’m going to make myself a god in mortal flesh. Just you wait, Magician. You’re going to see me reborn as a deity. Everywhere they’ll hear my name and—and they’ll put up little shrines for me in their houses so they can worship me every morning and night.”

Raettonus cocked one eyebrow. “You have some pretty powerful delusions.”

With a laugh, Diahsis closed his eyes and resettled his face against Raettonus’ shoulder so his lips brushed against the blond man’s neck. “They aren’t delusions, Magician,” he said softly. “I met a fortune teller once in Nuntah, out on the swamps. She threw salt into a fire and read the flames. She