though he be a lord, is still a man, while a god, no matter what kind, is always a god.’ Since the necromancers are the Uaine’s god’s representatives on earth, they are revered accordingly.”
“What gods do the Uaine worship?” asked Jorge.
“Primarily Bàs, God of Death.”
“I should have known,” said Jorge. “I wonder if he knows Sonya’s Goddess of Death.”
“The Lady Marzanna? I thought she was the Goddess of Winter.”
“According to Sonya, she’s both.”
“I suppose that makes sense. Those things tend to go together, especially in Izmoroz. And I’ve seen the Rangers in battle, so I’m not surprised they worship a death goddess.”
“Don’t you find it strange?” asked Jorge. “Both of us abandoning our own people to ally ourselves with these death-worshipping cultures?”
“Not at all,” said Angelo. “Having fought in the last war, I can say with confidence that death is the most sure and reliable thing in the world. Perhaps the only reliable thing.”
Jorge gave him a wan smile. “That isn’t a particularly comforting statement.”
Angelo returned his smile. “It wasn’t meant to be.”
The caskets from all five clans had been gathered on a flat stretch of meadow just outside the settlement. Seeing them all lined up side by side, row after row, and imagining that each might produce a nearly indestructible and pitiless undead warrior was impressive, and a little disconcerting.
“Do they ever get out of control?” asked Jorge. “The sluagh gorta, I mean?”
Angelo shook his head. “I’ve never seen it. And the only time I’ve even heard of such a thing is in an Uaine folk song. Loosely translated it would be called “The Heart-Sworn Dead.” Even then, it’s not so much a case of necromancers losing control of the sluagh gorta as it is a tragic story about a man and woman who loved each other so deeply in life that when the necromancers from two warring clans awakened them from death and pitted them against each other on the battlefield, they remembered their love and refused to fight.”
“Do the sluagh gorta actually remember things from their lives?”
“If they’re awakened immediately after death, they can remember their life for a short time, but the memories start to fade within the hour. If they’re awakened more than a few hours after death, they can’t even remember how to speak.”
“I suppose they still might remember things, but be incapable of expressing it,” said Jorge.
Angelo shuddered. “I hope not. The whole point of the sluagh gorta is that they’re pure. The perfect warrior who does not feel fear, doubt, arrogance, or fatigue.”
“Sounds frightening.”
“Wait until you see them in battle. Then all you’ll feel is gratitude that they’re on your side.”
Bhuidseach Rowena was speaking to four other people, two men and two women, who were also dressed in brown robes.
“Are those the other necromancers?” Jorge asked Angelo.
“Her apprentices. Each necromancer has several.”
“They lack the same… hue as Bhuidseach Rowena.”
“The eerie white skin and hair?” asked Angelo. “They call it Urram Le Bàs, or Death Touched. Only the necromancer of each clan has it, and only they can awaken the dead. Receiving the touch is apparently quite the ordeal to go through, and most don’t survive the process. The necromancer doesn’t really choose which of their apprentices will succeed them. All the apprentices go through the process, and whichever one survives is the one Bàs has chosen to be the next necromancer.”
“That is a harsh selection process. Has there ever been a time when none survived?”
“Clan Greim in fact currently has no necromancer,” said Angelo. “You ask me, that’s how Elgin Mordha managed to become so powerful. The necromancers tend to keep the ambitions of their chiefs in check, and without that, Mordha was able to press his clan into achieving a dominance over the other clans that hasn’t been seen in centuries.”
“But if the other clans have access to sluagh gorta and he doesn’t…”
Angelo shook his head. “It’s been considered taboo over the last five hundred years or so for a clan to send its sluagh gorta against another clan. Before then, it was apparently a terrible era for the Uaine. They were slaughtering each other with such ferocity, they nearly died out.”
More brown-cloaked people had gathered around the caskets. The other necromancers, all three of them men, were easy to spot with their ghostly skin and hair, and Jorge was surprised to see that unlike every other Uaine male, they were clean-shaven. There were also about fifteen apprentices, all busily opening the caskets. Once they finished, the necromancers went to each