“I’m honored. Really. But I’m still in the dark about what’s going on here. Who are these people? What are they after? Why are they shooting anyone who ventures outdoors, and why haven’t they stormed the house?”
Before Hisvin could reply, a ruckus sounded from the House, and I knew Lady Werewilk had unleashed her spells on the yard. There were shouts, and the faint whish-thunk of crossbows throwing, and the much fainter splintering cracks of bolts shattering against Werewilk’s sturdy walls.
And now the Corpsemaster knew the Lady herself was a rogue sorceress.
Hisvin smiled. “You need have no concern for her safety, Finder. I myself trained her in certain aspects of the Arts, though she of course does not know this. She will suffer no consequences for her small departure from Regency law.”
“You trained the Lady?”
“My association with House Werewilk is long and subtle, Finder. For reasons you will soon understand.” Shouts rose up, from men in the yard, and Hisvin made a small motion with two fingers on his right hand.
Lightning fell from the sky. Men screamed, but only briefly.
And then there was silence.
“Time is short. They want the banshee, Finder. They now suspect you have it. Had I not brought your womenfolk here, Miss Tomas and Missus Hog would even now be in the hands of persons who lack my own delicate sensibilities. You still blame me for Miss Tomas’s recent misadventures at the hands of the blood cult. I refuse to allow another act of violence to be laid at my feet.”
“Why not send them down the Brown, or out West?”
Hisvin sighed. “Because the persons against whom I am aligned have long reaches, Finder. I assure you of this. There is no safer place than here, where I can extend to them my protection. Until and unless I fall, that is. Should that occur, I suggest you run as far and as fast as you can.”
“If you fall?” I shivered. The wind was chilly. It smelled of smoke and burning hair. “Corpsemaster, if I may again be blunt, what the hell is going on out here?”
“History,” said Hisvin. He smiled a small rueful smile. “History is being made, and we shall have the misfortune to play a role in it. You may sit, Finder. And you as well, Mr. Prestley. What I have to say will take a bit of time.” The dead man dropped to his knees, then back onto his ass. The bending caused a slow gush of old blood to ooze from his wounds. “We might as well be comfortable.”
Evis joined me, gliding out of the shadows without a sound. I shrugged and sat, and Evis followed suit.
“Once upon a time,” said the Corpsemaster, “monsters walked the earth.”
“Some might observe that they still do.”
“Some might. But Finder, the monsters I speak of were far greater and far more terrible than anything you know. They walked the lands like furious mountains, and their mere words were sufficient to bring wrack and ruin to all they beheld. These were not mere sorcerers, Finder, Mr. Prestley. They were primal forces embodied, made nearly divine by the magics they wielded. Such was their power that the spells they spoke may never be spoken again.” Hisvin frowned. “Even now, I fail to convey the extent of their abilities. Suffice it to say, though, that even a person of my stature and prowess would be utterly insignificant in the face of these creatures. Yes. Think of it that way-take all of my sorcerous kin, resurrect all of us who perished during the War, and if all were arrayed at the height of their powers and put in the path of the least of these ancient beings, we should all be crushed underfoot in an instant.”
Evis tilted his head and spoke a soft word I didn’t know.
Hisvin repeated it. “Yes,” he said, beaming. “I did not know you were a student of pre-Kingdom history, Mr. Prestley. But you are correct. I speak of the alarkin. The Old Ones.”
“Never heard of them,” I whispered. “But I went to a public school. Are you telling me that’s what’s buried under the Ring, sir? One of these alarkins?”
Hisvin shook his head. “What was buried beneath the old stone ring was a mere bauble placed there by myself some eighty years ago. I also laid the stones, some years before that, and spread false rumors of their origins. The Ring was meant to discourage further excavations. Similar measures have, in the past, proven more than sufficient to either kill the excavators or convince them further efforts were simply too risky. But not this time, I fear. No. Today, the other parties show the rare and irrepressible determination of madmen and fools.”
“I saw an unusually tall person at the excavation yesterday. Might that be one of your foolish mad sorcerers?”
“One of them. I suspect there are at least three.”
I whistled. Even during the darkest days of the War, wand-wavers working together was well nigh unheard of. They historically seemed unable to remain on the same continent without quickly resorting to sorcerous blood feuds.
“Anyone else on your side?”
The Corpsemaster shrugged. “No. We stand alone.”
“Three to one. The odds aren’t exactly encouraging.”
“True. But I suspect the three, should they survive long enough to reach the tomb, will fall upon each other the instant it is uncovered. I have no such concerns, nor will I be forced to expend any effort to protect myself from partners who are destined to suddenly become deadly rivals. But I digress. I came here to discuss your role in this small confusion, Finder.”
“You mean aside from my role as your stalking horse.”
“I did not bring you here, Finder. Although I must admit I was most amused when I learned that the Lady had retained you.”
I shivered at the thought of being one of Hisvin’s amusements.
“How do you know I won’t run and tell the Lady that some prehistoric boogeyman and his treasure-trove is buried right under her roses?”
“Because you are not a fool. And because you have no more desire to see such a creature raised than do I. Consider it, Finder. Imagine a being infinitely more powerful than myself. Now imagine that it lacks my own considerable sense of restraint and decorum. Add its understandable annoyance at being buried for most of the Kingdom’s history.”
“I thought you said it was dead. In a tomb.”
“I did indeed mention a tomb. I did not employ the word dead. The alarkin was put down, and bound with ancient magics, and then sealed beneath the earth in what was then a lonely, unpeopled waste. But dead-perhaps so, perhaps not. Death for such a being might well prove to be temporary. And if not, its shade would be nearly as devastating as the being itself. No. We can be assured the alarkin is buried. But we cannot assume it is dead.”
Evis broke his silence. “Why would anyone seek to disturb such a thing?”
“Greed,” replied Hisvin. “The alarkin was doubtlessly entombed with certain artifacts. If one were to raise them, and learn their use-well. That is another point of the history I spoke of, because the Regency would certainly fall before the onslaught of such objects.”
I must have raised an eyebrow. Either that, or Hisvin can read minds.
“No, Finder, I myself have no desire to seek such artifacts. I will make no claim that I am somehow immune to greed, but neither am I insensitive to the cost of such an effort. No. I mean to keep these things buried, though it costs me my life.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“Let us hope so indeed. Now. As to your roles. The banshee must be protected. I assume you do in fact have it safely inside?”
No point in denying what I suspected he had the means to know. “I do. But I have to tell you, she’s not very, um, banshee-like. More like a kid. She seems harmless. Might I ask why all the interest in her?”
Hisvin made Skin’s dead face frown. “If my studies are to be believed, she was a creation of the alarkin who lies nearby. I believe, as do my rivals, that the banshee holds the power to call the alarkin back. Probably by shrieking in close proximity to the tomb.”
“Buttercup could bring Old Bones back just by howling?” I rose. “Do you believe that?”