people would also start looking funny at a talismonger’s familiar—and at talismongers.”
“Why?” said Biddlemeyer behind his sword.
“A talismonger’s familiar is the opposite of a demon. It’s a spirit, but a good one, and it’s conjured into a carved talisman instead of a living person. It stays there until the body wears out and we put it into a new one. You could conjure a familiar spirit into a living host, too, but it would eventually push the person’s spirit out.”
“You never told me any of this,” Dagmar said, interested despite herself.
“Like I said, we don’t talk about it. Right, Crystamel?”
Crystamel, who was sniffing around the hearth, heard her name and automatically sat up on her hind legs, then plunked back down again with an annoyed look on her face. “Speaking of,” she said, “I want a new body. Every time you make me a dog, the stupid canine instincts take over. You think I like sticking my nose into people’s privates?”
“Bitch, bitch, bitch,” Ramdane shot back.
She cocked her head. “Was that supposed to be a pun? Because if it was—”
“Can we get back to the zombies?” interrupted Biddlemeyer. “Two weeks ago, I had a town. Now I have a sort of mobile graveyard, and if there’s something I can do about it, I want to hear.”
“Sorry.” Ramdane poured hot water over Dagmar’s wound, and she hissed at the pain, though the heat felt good. “I’m guessing the zombie king started by conjuring a demon into some poor schlub—”
“Did I mention the zombie king is my brother, Herbert, and the first zombie was our mother?” Biddlemeyer said, still gripping his sword.
“—into a lovely lady,” Ramdane continued without pausing for breath, “for purposes of revenge or some such, but the demon got hungry, for both power and flesh. It bit someone else and put a piece of itself into that person too, and they bit two more people, and so on and so on. It doesn’t take long. Except the zombie king is in something of a pickle himself. If he doesn’t keep feeding the demon new victims, it will eventually turn on him.”
The entire lower half of Dagmar’s leg was turning dark, and she was losing sensation in it. “I don’t feel much sympathy for him,” she snapped. “What can we do?”
“There’s no way to get rid of a demon,” Ramdane said, his face tight. “That’s why no intelligent person touches necromancy.”
Dagmar’s mouth went dry. The dark flesh was crawling up past her knee, and her fingertips were chilly. “Shit. Maybe I should have jumped after all.”
Biddlemeyer drew back his sword. “I’ll make it painless.”
A dreadful idea came over Dagmar. A awful, terrible, dreadful idea. Just the thought of it made her cold and shaky inside. But it was better than becoming a zombie. She pushed Biddlemeyer’s sword away.
“I know how to handle this,” she said grimly.
“You do?” Ramdane said.
Dagmar looked down at Crystamel. The dog’s ears drooped, and she backed away. “Oh, no,” she said. “No, no, no.”
“You wanted a new body.” Dagmar plucked a heavy frying pan from a hook above the hearth. “Start chanting, little brother.”
“Now wait a minute—” Ramdane began.
“No time to debate, Ram.” Dagmar raised the pan. Crystamel backed away, but her rump came up against the table leg.
“What’s she talking about?” Biddlemeyer asked.
“Now, Dagmar,” said Crystamel. “Let’s not be—”
Dagmar whacked Crystamel with the frying pan. The dog shattered like a little flowerpot. Ramdane swore and hastily set up a chant under his breath. A silvery mist rose up from the doggy bits. It gathered itself into a featureless silver ball that managed nonetheless to look pretty pissed off. Dagmar glanced nervously around despite her leg, which was now numb to the thigh. This was the point when a talismonger was most vulnerable. The last time Ramdane had done a hasty transfer, an enemy talismonger had captured Crystamel and blackmailed the both of them into going after a gorgon. Fortunately, Biddlemeyer was staring with his mouth open, and didn’t seem interested in trying such a thing. She was oddly glad that he looked impressed. Hm . . .
Ramdane stepped carefully over to Dagmar with the gleaming ball hovering over one hand and paused his chant. “I can’t believe you did that,” he said.
She steeled herself. Her armor wouldn’t protect her against this. It was like letting in one enemy to fight another. “Just finish it,” she said. “You know what to do.”
Ramdane released the misty ball. Dagmar inhaled sharply and sucked it in.