Page 53 of The Necromancer's Prisoner

“Come on,” he said quietly. “Let’s get you out of here.”

Iggie exhaled, straightening his shoulders. “Don’t slack on your duties because of me. I can wait if there’s more you need to do. Or if you need my help to…to…”

He trailed off, and Alistair shook his head. “No, it’s all right.” He held up the salvaged notes and Erys’ tome. “I can’t make heads or tails of this, but I can see enough to tell it pertains to this ritual. Hopefully, Erys will be able to tell us more.”

“Should we…” Iggie swallowed, grimacing as he clenched his jaw. “Should we do something. With the bodies, I mean.”

Even now, the good-hearted necromancer couldn’t help but think of others. Turning back to the corpses, Alistair’s expression hardened. “We’ll let the town know where they can retrieve their dead. For now, we need to return as soon as possible. It’s time we relate what we’ve learned to the council and figure out how to stop what Matrim unwittingly conjured once and for all.”

twenty-one

Ignatius

Iggieshuffledinthecenter of the town hall, his nerves buzzing with anxious energy as his eyes roamed everywhere except the row of elevated figures seated in a line before him. It had been bad enough facing their suspicion the last time he’d stood here. Only Erys had treated him with anything close to kindness, and even if the enigmatic mage wasn’t behind the town’s troubles, Iggie still didn’t know what to make of him or his impossible offer to stay.

He chanced a glance at the leaders of Singer’s Rest only to immediately look away when he met Liliana’s glare. His fingers twitched at his side, though whether it was out of instinct to channel duskflame or the ill-advised urge to squeeze Alistair’s hand, he couldn’t say.

For a few hours there, things between them had felt almost like they had back in that harmonite cavern during the blizzard, their pretensions and worries stripped away to leave only them and their undeniable connection behind. But even as he’d allowed himself to give in and let Alistair comfort him, he’d known the reprieve couldn’t last.

Sure enough, the instant they’d returned to town, he’d sensed Alistair’s barriers rising once more and had hastened to do the same. Not that he blamed the paladin for wanting to keep his distance. It was only natural when their relationship had a ticking clock attached.

Still, that recognition did little to ease the burgeoning knot in his stomach. This was the problem with opening up to anyone—it left you weak. Vulnerable. Better to keep the quiet company of the undead. Although, to Alistair’s credit, he’d never abandoned Iggie even when that might have been the easier course. He remained beside Iggie now, appearing far more stoically resolute before the council than Iggie could ever hope to be.

Drawing on Alistair’s example, Iggie forced himself to straighten his own back in an effort to steady himself. He had faced plenty of hatred from others. He could bear whatever vitriol they threw at him if it meant helping Alistair save more lives.

Maxwell, the town’s mayor, was the first to speak. He cleared his throat, his nasally voice tinted with irritation. “Given the unusual lateness of your summons, I presume you have something important to share with us, Sir Alistair?”

Iggie suppressed a wince. By the time they’d finished up at the ritual site and returned to town, night had fallen in earnest. No doubt at least some of the council members had been drawn from their beds for this meeting. Iggie would have preferred to delay until morning, but Alistair had insisted that their news couldn’t wait.

As if sensing Iggie’s unease, Alistair stepped forward, repositioning in front of him as if to shield him from harm. Gratitude surged through Iggie at the gesture, unconscious or ingrained as it might have been.

“Indeed, we do.” Alistair’s voice boomed with all the authority of a Knight. “We believe we now have a more accurate picture of the events leading up to the summoning of the creature that threatens Singer’s Rest, as well as those responsible.”

“Summoning?” Iggie risked a glance at the council and found Erys leaning forward, his brow furrowed. “Does that mean our speculation this morning proved correct?”

Alistair shifted, the movement so slight that Iggie doubted the others would be able to tell.He’s nervous too, Iggie realized.He just hides it far better behind his official mask.

The thought bolstered his own flagging confidence enough to reply. “I’m afraid so, sir.”

Alistair shot him a surprised look, followed by an encouraging nod that sent an unfamiliar flash of pride rippling through him. Turning back to the council, the paladin launched into an abbreviated explanation of what they’d learned about the botched ritual, from Matrim stealing Erys’ tome, to him convincing Julian and the other missing townsfolk to participate, to the tragic fates suffered by him, his accomplices, and, eventually, Julian himself.

Thinking again of what he’d witnessed in Julian’s memories twisted Iggie’s stomach in knots. The lovesick artisan had deserved a far better ending than the one he’d received, no matter what foolhardy decisions his misplaced trust in Matrim had driven him to make.

Is that what I’m doing now—allowing my feelings for someone I have no business being with cloud my judgment? I shouldn’t even be here.

Liliana harrumphed, snapping Iggie back to the present. She crossed her muscular arms over her tunic, her biceps bulging. “So, what you’re saying is that one of my artisans is behind everything that’s been happening to us? And he stolemyharmonite crystals to do it?”

Her scowl deepened at Alistair’s nod. She redirected her glare on Iggie, who drew upon all his remaining courage not to retreat from her ire.

“And you’re certain this necromancer of yours is telling the truth? How can you be sure he didn’t plan this all out in advance, leading you to a ritual circle that he himself created?”

What?Iggie’s mouth fell open, shock rippling through him. They couldn’t possibly still believe he was behind this, could they? After everything he’d been doing to try to help?

Alistair shook his head. “I don’t think so, Mistress Liliana. There are simply too many conflicting facts. We found a song crystal with an almost identical signature to the creature’s at Matrim’s workstation and several corpses, including Matrim’s, at the ritual site.” He held up the bundle of notes along with Erys’ tome. “We also retrieved this, written I suspect in Matrim’s own hand.”

At a gesture from Erys, Alistair approached and passed the bundle over. Erys leafed through the torn papers with a pensive frown before hefting the tome and flipping through it until he found a particular page. While he read, Brother Kelvin spoke into the silence.

“And what of Julian’s…remains? I trust they have been properly disposed of?”