Dirge for a Necromancer - By Ash Stinson Page 0,94

beast. Rainwater rushed in through the fissure in the wall, soaking all the carpets and tapestries in its reach beyond salvage.

At first, Diahsis had complained loudly about the storm ruining his faerie hunting to anyone and everyone—especially to Raettonus. This didn’t last too long, however, before he simply retreated to his chambers with Deggho and a group of his commanders. Raettonus didn’t know what he was doing locked away on his floor with his companions, and Raettonus quite frankly didn’t care.

In the meantime, while the storm raged against the walls of the citadel, Raettonus saw nothing of Sir Slade. In the mornings when he awoke and went out of his cell, he saw the door to Slade’s room was closed. At night when he returned to his cell, Slade’s door was still closed. If the man ever left his room, he went to great lengths to avoid meeting Raettonus in the hallways.

After a few weeks had passed, the storm died down and the weather was good again. Diahsis hastily pulled his hunting party together again, and they left early one Wednesday morning, but not before stopping by Raettonus’ cell and awakening him. Deggho pleaded with him to come with them while Diahsis insisted again and again that it would be fun. Curtly, Raettonus declined and bid them let him sleep. Reluctantly, they did so.

Raettonus was on his way back to his chambers after his lesson that same day when Slade came upon him in a narrow stairway. Raettonus flattened himself against the wall to let him through, but Slade didn’t move. “I was just coming to find you,” he said. “I…I wanted to apologize.”

“It’s all right,” said Raettonus, looking down.

Slade smiled kindly. “Would you like to take a walk with me?”

“If you want,” said Raettonus. Slade turned and went down the stairs, and Raettonus followed him.

They made their way along a corridor bright with afternoon light. For some time, they walked in awkward silence. Finally, Slade ventured hesitantly, “I shouldn’t have said the things I said that night. I was angry. I should’ve kept my temper in check better.”

“It’s not a big deal,” mumbled Raettonus. “Forget about it.”

“I can’t just forget about it,” Slade said. “I said awful, hurtful things to you. I…I really shouldn’t have.” He bit his lower lip and leaned against the wall. “There was a time, when I was very young, that my own father said very similar things to me, and those words burned me inside, and it never stopped hurting. I don’t want you to hate me like I hated my father for that.” Raettonus started to speak, but Slade cut him short. “Even if you think you could never hate me, I’m sure you could. You’d start to resent me, and the resentment would turn to hate, whether you realized it or not. I don’t want that to happen. I just…I want you to know, I was only angry. I meant it when I said you shouldn’t have killed Rhodes, but the rest… The rest was just anger. You understand, right?”

“Yes, Master, I understand.”

The older man frowned, his lightly glowing eyes searching Raettonus’ face. “I’m serious, you know,” he said. “I didn’t mean what I said, and I want you to know that.”

“Of course, Master.”

“Raettonus,” said Slade, his voice almost a sigh. “I can tell by your voice when you’re lying to me, you know. Please—please, I just want for you to forget about the argument. I want you to forget the things I said to you, and I want to be forgiven. If that means you need to get mad right now and snap at me, please do it. I’d rather you be angry with me in this moment than that you should resent me for the rest of your life.”

“Master, really,” Raettonus said, voice carefully measured. “I’m not angry with you. I’m really not. What you said… You were honestly right to say it. What I did to Rhodes was horrible. Reprehensible. You were in the right. You really don’t need to be forgiven by me.”

“But I’d like to be,” said Slade.

Raettonus looked up at Slade, face carefully blank. Sir Slade had a way of making Raettonus always feel like a little child. Maybe it was the sheer size of him—he was a couple inches over six feet, with a chest like a barrel and arms like tree limbs. Or perhaps it was the way he always looked at Raettonus, as if he were looking at something small and helpless. “Of