“Yes. And you?”
Bartley didn’t say a word. The barest rustling in the trees answered for him. More thieves waited nearby, not that I cared. At close range, I could use certain spells without attracting attention. And since I was a Grand Mistress Necromancer, I didn’t have to bother with reanimating the dead or calling on ghosts. Satisfaction warmed my blood. With any luck, I would cast my favorite spell today.
Ah, the joy of conjuring skeletons from stone.
After all, rock contained the concentrated remains of what had once been part of a living thing. It was an advanced form of cadaver, if you will. A Grand Mistress Necromancer could reform that raw material into a new skeleton.
I really loved casting these.
My skeletal servants had no personalities unless you counted mindless obedience. They smelled only of chalk if they had a scent at all. Best of all, a good Necromancer could give her skeletons some flair. I often covered mine with glittering gemstones. My teachers had frowned on this, but I was a girl, and we girls needed sparkly things.
Bartley took a half step closer. “Hand over your gold, and we’ll let you go easy.” He stared at my chest. “Yes, easy.”
I stifled the urge to roll my eyes. Thieves always stared at my breasts and threatened my virtue. It was getting rather tedious. “I’ll gladly pay you for information. Will you answer my questions?”
This was a rule of mine. Always give the thieves an honest way out. Not that any of them had taken it.
“By the Lady of Creation, you’re a feisty one.” Bartley grinned, showing a mouth full of yellow teeth. “Now, you’ve got me curious. Go on. Ask your questions.”
“I’m searching for a child.” My voice cracked as I pictured six-year-old Ada. She was a tiny wisp with a huge smile and an invisible friend named Wulf. “The Vicomte Gaspard took her.”
Bartley’s eye twitched, which came as no surprise. With the Tsar was gone, the Vicomte was the most feared man in the realm. “Never heard nothing ‘bout the Vicomte kidnapping Necromancers.”
Of course, he hadn’t.
“I didn’t say she was a Necromancer.” My voice dripped with venom. “You did.” Bartley knew something about my people—I could tell that without even casting a truth spell. “One last chance. Talk to me.”
“I already did, wench.” His thin mouth twisted into a snarl. He wouldn’t answer any more questions voluntarily.
Let’s see what magick can do.
Raising my left hand, I pulled Necromancer energy into my body. The power was everywhere, if you knew what to look for. Thousands of travelers had passed along this very road, their hearts filled with joy, dreams, and despair. That force was still in the ether, waiting for a Necromancer to transform it. I pulled the energy into my soul.
Magick rushed through me, energizing my body like a breath of fresh air. I focused it into my left arm. My bones there glowed blue as I whispered an incantation.
Bones born in night
Honed by magick’s light
Heed my call
Rise up for the fall
The thief’s piggy eyes narrowed. “You don’t look like no Fantome.”
Hope sparked in my chest. Fantomes were trained Necromancers who served the Vicomte. If Bartley knew about them, then he might be even more valuable. “I’m not a Fantome.”
“Well, you can’t be no free Necromancer. They’re hardly none left.” His mouth set into a determined line. “Is this some kind of trick?”
“No, it’s more of a trap.” I slipped off Smoke and stepped to the side. Pushing the power out of my hand, I set my spell loose. Blue mist appeared about Bartley’s feet just as he lunged straight for me.
The man didn’t get far. In fact, his feet stayed rooted to the spot.
Bartley shifted his weight, trying to break himself free. “What did you do?”
“Me? Nothing.” I gestured toward the ground. Bartley couldn’t know it, but more of my magick had whirled beneath the soil, shifting the stones into new forms. “The skeleton I conjured, though…”
Bit by bit, Bartley tipped his head down to peer at his worn leather boots. Skeletal hands had pushed through the earth and were now wrapped around his ankles. The white granite bones contrasted against the dark soil.
“You bitch!” Bartley reached under his longcoat. No doubt, he was searching for a weapon.
This wasn’t my first battle, however. I still had plenty of ambient energy left to conjure more skeletal servants.
With a flick of my fingers, another set of bony arms burst through the ground nearby, followed by a third. Two new skeletons wiggled their way out of the soil and stood at attention. They were magnificent—seven feet tall with amber bones and glowing blue gems in their eye sockets. What a sight.