Book 3 Chapter 11: The Party Gathered

++Sakhent never did forgive me for being born with a greater talent. This has been an endless source of amusement.++

- From the writings of Isabel Vornholt, ‘The Great Lich’. 1,891 A.E.

I was still left waiting for an annoying few hours while my Winzorth-loaned cloudscraper finished its rounds, though fortunately Cadnich had a sky-suited dock along with, apparently, every other conceivable kind of dock.

What this meant was that Alira had all the time she needed to ask any questions of me. Apparently she had a lot.

“About Orapathaqi,” she began, with all the subtlety of a sledge hammer swung quite abruptly into my head. “I’ve uh…I’ve heard some things.”

That much was not surprising, just about everyone in Garamon had heard some things regarding that particular catastrophe. There were many things in this old, sprawling empire that could go missing without anybody being the wiser or caring. A Demigod was not, in fact, one of them.

“What did you hear?” I asked. “I need to know.”

Alira did not need telling at all why, she of all people understood how devastating rumours could be, even—or especially—without a nugget of truth. And her social circles certainly put her in a place to hear stories I did not.

“That the whole city was attacked by some ancient lich, that they killed a Demigod—Nu’chista—and that another Demigod, Aryqatan, fought the lich off. You were…uh, mentioned.”

“Mentioned how?” I asked, keeping my voice carefully neutral. Alira did not meet my eye.

“Just…you know, mentioned.”

“Do you really want to withhold this from me, the same day you are tying your personal fortune to mine?” I asked her.

She did not need any more convincing after that.

“Alright, apparently you were in danger, captured by the lich or something. Bagran Voret rescued you in some stories, your brother in the others. Did you uh…did you fuck Voret?”

Apparently my facial expression said it all.

“Right,” Alira nodded. “Thought not. Well, that’s in some of the stories too. Some even say Voret deflowered you over the lich’s corpse.”

There was, ridiculously, a question in her voice.

“We will pretend you did not say that,” I told her. Alira looked ahead quickly. She still glanced my way between steps, though. We were not even a quarter of the way to the docks. Plenty of time for more questions.

“There was a lich, and it did kill the Demigod Nu’chista…as for everything else…”

I hesitated.

Agrian had been hurt because I did not tell him the truth, and as much as it confused and irritated me to acknowledge…I was hurt by the knowledge of his hurt.

But that was emotional hurt. Almost figurative. Having one’s arms and legs slowly pulled off by a Demigod while several more kept you alive against all laws of biology would hurt in a much more physical and tangible way. Each new person who knew the truth, even a nugget of it, raised the odds of that happening.

I had done nothing wrong.

So I answered Alira’s question with the lies I had fed to Aryqatan, feeling certain and secure in the knowledge that I was preserving her life as much as my own. She did not seem to suspect she was being deceived. Trusting.

A character flaw she had possessed for some time.

We were almost to the docks by the time I had finished my account, and Paula had finished soaking it up. She took it well. Her face, though, was still as pale as if she had spent the last two years buried in the world’s deepest cave.

“I had no idea you went through all that,” she whispered. “It must’ve been hell.”

“It was very hot,” I frowned at the memory. “I kept sticking to my bedsheets.”

“Right.” Alira had something else on her mind, I could see it.

“Speak,” I sighed. “It is better to get this all onto the table now, before we arrive. You will have a lot of work to do once we are at my new refinery.”

“Okay. Let’s start with that then, a refinery. Why are you getting into oil?” Alira sounded more baffled than anything.

“Because the industry will expand exponentially in the coming decades, and probably make whoever owns the greatest portion of it among the five wealthiest humans alive within a generation.”

She did not look convinced, nor abated.

“If you say so,” Alira shrugged. “What about me though, why’d you hire me? I’m guessing it wasn’t just to help me out.”

“You are one of the most talented magicians in history,” I snapped more forcefully than I intended. A moment later, I had composed myself enough to safely elaborate. “You are valuable as an asset, and will grow far more valuable with time.” I turned to make sure my words had sunk in, then scowled. “You are smiling,” I noted. “Why?”

“No reason,” Alira kept smiling.

“Tell me,” I snapped.

“It really isn’t anything,” she giggled.

“Do you think I am being dishonest about my motives, is that it?”

“You seem really fixated on why I think you’re doing this.”

“I am fixated by you smiling like that, I have already told you to stop it.”

She did not stop it, and I was forced to merely do my best to ignore what must have been deliberately antagonistic behaviour until we came to the docks. Fortunately, I was given something new to draw both of our attention when we reached them.

Even more fortunately, that something was Sethira.

I had not seen her, my fellow lich, in quite some time, though our kind do not experience the awkwardness that mortals tend to feel after such long absences. What is months or even years to existences as sprawling as ours?

Yes. As I approached her, I felt my anticipation building. This was an intellect almost as old and potent as my own, a talent nearly as great as Agrian’s and honed by infinitely more experience. A master above all but Lord Dread himself. Here was something close to an equal. I could not wait to engage, once more, in a conversation on my own level.

“Isabel!” Sethira beamed as I approached, lunging at me and wrapping me in a hug. I was reminded for a moment of Victoria, feeling the girl—the lich—ensnare me with her arms and plant a dozen kisses on my face and head. I was so stunned I just lay there, locked into immobility until she had already broken contact. “It’s been too long!” she beamed.

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It took me a moment to realise this was just an act. Of course it was. Sethira did not behave this way when we were alone. Had she decided that we would be harder to identify as Sakhent and Lord Dread if she behaved this way, and made her idiosyncrasies that much more dissimilar to my own?

No. She was just doing this to torture me, the wretch.

“Hello Sethira,” I replied, just barely managing to hold in my vomit. Sakhent had been a prideful king in life, a much more prideful lich in death and, apparently, an even more prideful teenage girl in rebirth. She evidently did not appreciate being shown how far short her power fell of history’s true greatest magician, and was making me suffer for it.

Would she never cease making me admire her?

“Who’s this?” Alira asked me, politely looking at Sethira while Sethira did likewise.

“Oh hello,” the lich beamed. “I’m Sethira, Isabel’s associate from Orapathaqi and one of her new employees. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She held out a hand and Alira took it, then yelped as Sethira abruptly stepped in and brought their faces quite close together.

“You’re talented,” she noted. “Extremely talented.”

Alira did not take a step back, something that seemed to surprise Sethira.

“That’s what you do then?” she asked. “Get in people’s faces and breathe on them, throw a compliment out and wait for them to get all flustered?” She arched an eyebrow, making it clear how impressive she did not find that tactic. “I’d expected one of Isabel’s associates to be more…original.”

Sethira looked annoyed to have gotten such a limited reaction, stepping back with a sigh. “She’s boring, Isabel,” she made a horrible show of pouting like she was some young child. I had to admit, in terms of sheer creativity, this particular torment was one for the ages.

We departed soon after that, moving by cloudscraper and, thus, fast. But the distance was great enough to leave plenty of time for conversation as we went. I spent it predominately with Sethira.

“I need updates,” I told her. “What has been going on in Estalia?”

I had my own ways of verifying all of this information of course, Laiel Fiq and other such informants. Sethira probably knew I did, but not the specifics of what they were. Asking her would not only get me the news faster, but it would also serve to test her honesty when I inevitably found, or did not find, corroborating reports sent to me from my other sources in the region.

“The city’s been trying to rebuild,” she replied. “It hasn’t been going well. Too much damage, too many casualties. We lost a quarter of our labour force around the same time we lost half our infrastructure. To call it a disaster would almost not do it justice.”

That much was not a surprise to me, I still recalled the sight of what had been leftover following Nu’chista’s battles. Sethira was not exaggerating in the slightest. She may even have been understating things.

“And the cult?” I asked.

“It’s going well. Dispersing, as you said.”

With the Empire’s eyes now firmly on Orapathaqi, I had decided that there was little benefit to keeping Sakhent’s cult holed up there. It would only increase the risk of them being found out and investigated more thoroughly.

As things were, Garamon’s leadership likely thought that the insurgency in Orapathaqi and the sudden attack of Sakhent were related. Catastrophes from the same source, and with that source presumed dead at the hands of the Demigod Aryqatan, the cult responsible would be lower-priority.

In truth, Sakhent had left the events in Orapathaqi with not only all of his strength intact, but a new master far more powerful than even he was.

Me.

Garamon’s ignorance was our weapon, and diffusing cultists across the world to keep too many from being bunched up in any one place was the best way to ensure that ignorance lasted. Finding a thousand men in one ruined city was perfectly doable. Finding three hundred small groups of men scattered to the winds? Even the Garamon Empire would be hard-pressed for that, whether any of their scions were deliberately looking or not.

Then there was the other benefit. This method of organisation, with none of my subordinates knowing how many knew their location or how many shared it, not only prevented discovery, but meant that the feelers of my spy network were as spread-out as it was possible for them to be. I had already heard a lot of useful tidbits and planned to hear far more.

I would do so over this journey, and the subsequent days. In the meantime, though, Sethira had another topic she wished to broach.

“So, that new prodigy,” she began. “She seems nice.”

We were alone, tucked away in one of the private compartments that come as a benefit to affording the wealthiest class of cloudscraper. I could only wish it was more than just a temporary loan.

“You do not need to continue your performance in isolation with me,” I noted.

“This isn’t a performance,” Sethira giggled. “She does, genuinely, seem nice. Like one of those sugary snacks modern people like. Sweets. Like a sweet.”

I still did not know what to make of Sethira. I had met other liches in my long life, and all of them were somewhat removed from the whimsy of mortality. Not as much as me, I had to admit, but far more than Sethira. She almost seemed more human than most humans, practically overflowing with life and energy.

It was disconcerting.

“That is not relevant,” I noted. “What matters is her magic, loyalty and intelligence. All are acceptable.”

“Acceptable,” she echoed with a grin. “She’s about as gifted as I am, if she had my start then she’d already be a mere step behind you for raw power.”

Even in private, we never overtly described our true bodies unless it was strictly necessary. Millennia make a person paranoid.

“Then she is more than acceptable,” I noted.

“Yeah, I’ll bet.” Sethira grinned.

“What?” I was getting irritated with these antics, confusion added on top of them was a step too far.

“Oh I’m just saying the two of you are cute together,” Sethira smiled. “Cute, is that the word? Yes. Cute. Like a frilly dress, or an adorable puppy, or two young ladies kissing.”

Ah. I understood her meaning there.

“I have no interest in that sort of thing. I do not actually know why you seem to, it is beneath you.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s physical sensation. Touch, feeling, joy. All the things we left behind in our transition. We have access to it now, and you seem determined to lock yourself away from it all. Why is that?”

“I have no need for distractions,” I snapped.

“Nobody said anything about need,” Sethira countered. “I’m just pointing out that for someone who constantly rants about the greatness of humanity, you don’t seem to actually enjoy being one.”

That gave me pause. “What?”

“I mean that you lock yourself away from all the things that other people actually live their lives for. Physical sensation and touch. It’s like you’re scared of your own humanity. You mock me for embracing it, but why wouldn’t I? I am, after all,” she gave a strikingly good impression of my own reborn voice, “nothing more than a human.”

For another rare moment, I was actually left speechless. I recovered fast, changing tacks to keep from being wrong-footed.

“You can do as you please,” I told her. “But I will do likewise.”

“You’re not though, are you?” Sethira asked me. “You’ve said it yourself, you’re holding out on having fun because you’re worried about being distracted. Have you considered how distracting it might be for you to try and live life all pent up like that?”

“What are you getting at here?” I demanded. “Just spit it out and stop wasting my time.”

“Well, I’m just saying that you could be having a lot more fun than you are,” she told me. “That’s all. I want to make sure my new partner isn’t getting their head all clouded with needless frustration.”

I stared at her, following her eyes, and feeling a new wave of irritation. “You want to have sexual intercourse with me?” I asked.

She blinked, looking genuinely surprised. “Obviously. Have you seen how you look now?”

“Out,” I demanded. “Get out, leave. Go away. Begone.”

Sethira giggled again, holding up her hands in mock surrender and making her way to the door. “Does this mean you don’t mind if me and Paula…”

“Out!” I roared, she laughed and made herself scarce, leaving me to sit alone and fume.

Sethira had, I was forced to admit, gotten me there. I had not expected that angle of attack at all, and the added question about Alira at the end had annoyed me more than even I would have expected. I doubted the woman would be interested in someone who looked like a teenager in any case.

Which only made me wonder why I was bothering to wonder.

Stories told of Sakhent for his formidable intellect and magical mastery, and above all his knowledge of the dark arts. They should have spoken instead about how annoying he could be when he so desired it.