Page 93 of Swordheart
“Is it?”
“People do frown on monstrous evil,” said Halla.
“Not nearly often enough if you ask me,” Sarkis said. He drank more water, not with much enthusiasm. “We don’t have necromancers in the Weeping Lands. At least, not that I have ever heard of.”
“Fortunate land,” said Zale. They rubbed the back of their neck. “Necromancy is honestly more legend than reality here. But there is at least one well-documented case a century ago. A healer who could not bear failure, and had the gift. He chained the souls of the dying to their bodies, until, he said, he could find a way to cure death itself.” They shuddered. “The records make for grim reading.”
“Did they start to decay?” asked Halla.
“Yes. Many of the dead went to great lengths to try to destroy their own bodies. Some lashed out at others around them. It is the blackest of the black arts.”
Sarkis leaned back. “What is the punishment?”
Zale shot him a brief glance. “There isn’t one.”
“What?”
“It’s not a thing you punish.” The priest shrugged. “It’s a thing you stop. It’s like… oh, like a rabid dog. You don’t punish the dog or the necromancer. It’s not like that. You just kill them so that it stops. It was a group of paladins that killed the healer, with the blessings of any number of gods. They had to burn the entire place down to stop the dead. Fortunately, there was a priest of the Many-Armed God in attendance, and he rescued the healer’s notes.”
“The great god have mercy.”
“I don’t think He had a paladin there, but presumably that was a matter of distance rather than approval.”
Sarkis snorted.
“The Rat calls lawyers and advocates to His service rather than paladins, but I must admit, the ones with swords have their uses.”
Halla was clearly working something over in her mind. “Sarkis may be dead, but he’s not decaying,” she said. “But that might be because the sword doesn’t decay. Do you think a necromancer could bind a soul into a sword?”
“You’re saying the smith was anecromancer?”
“I’m notsayinganything,” said Halla, sounding exasperated. “I’m asking a question!”
“Thatisa skill you have,” muttered Sarkis.
Zale tapped their fingers together, brow knitting. Finally, they said, “It’s an interesting question. It would make a certain sense, but it’s not a thing that I know how to test. And I’ve never heard of a necromancer that could make a temporary body out of pure magic, the way that the sword does for Sarkis.”
Sarkis set the waterskin down. “Speaking of which, you could probably put me back in the sword now.”
“What? Wh—oh!” Halla flushed. “Right! Sorry. Got distracted.”
“Believe me, anything that took the conversation away from my bladder was worth it.” He shifted uncomfortably on the seat.
Halla clicked the sword into its sheath and the blue fire took him away.
CHAPTER 30
“Right!” said Halla a day later. “We’ve established that even if you’re hungry or thirsty when you go into the sword, you come out feeling neither, at least if you’re in the sword for more than about twenty minutes.”
Zale was writing everything down in their quick, precise hand, and nodded to her.
“And if you go into the sword with a full bladder, you come out without one.”
Sarkis rubbed his forehead in resignation.
“And presumably that applies to other—uh—bodily wastes—”
“We arenottesting that,” said Sarkis grimly. “A man has limits.”
