For a horrible moment, Corinn thought the figure was questioning every decision she had made since they had last seen each other. She could never explain it all! Life had placed before her a thousand challenges, each with a million barbed entanglements and dangers. Decisions had to be made and they fell upon nobody but her. She had made them as best she could. None could fault her. None could understand her. None could know what it meant to rule an empire. None, except perhaps the very one who had posed the question.
She realized time was passing and she had not answered. The man's eyes bored into her. He asked again, "What have you done?"
This time she heard the question differently, or chose to. "I have pulled you back to life."
"Why?"
How could she answer? She could say that she was afraid of the threat marching toward the Known World. She mistrusted herself now more than ever before and could no longer tell whether the things she did were for good or for ill. She could explain that all the power she had amassed was nothing if she was blind to those who would harm her son. She had so nearly lost Aaden! If that could happen, what other horrors might yet await her? She could have admitted that each weapon she held-her allies the league, who lied to her with every other word; the wine with which she would make a nation of obedient servants; the song that even now danced out over the world, stirring a worm deep in the bowels of the earth as it did so-was a two-faced treachery waiting to strike. She should swear that she hated sending Mena and Dariel out as unwilling agents, loathed that she seemed incapable of opening herself fully to them. She might declare that she wanted none of these things to be so. She needed him to help her remedy it all. It was all too much to carry on a single pair of shoulders; and if he would help her, perhaps together they could chart a surer course together than either of them could alone. She could have said that she doubted every high ideal that had ever escaped his lips but admitted that a part of her very much wanted to believe.
All this she might have said, but she did not. Though she meant it all, she also knew that she still clung to each writhing portion of the things she hated; she was herself the two-faced treachery that she feared and that she wished he might save her from. She was, even now, just a breath away from wishing she had summoned a different person altogether. So instead of confessing everything, she said, "Because the world needs you. Things are not complete. We need you in life, not darkness."
"Darkness?" the figure asked. He closed his eyes as if remembering the meaning of the word. "No, death is not darkness. Nor have I forgotten life. Each moment brings new souls into the afterdeath. They bring news of the living, though it fades from them fast. But I have not been dead to life." He opened his eyes again. "I know of you and the things you have done."
Corinn had not expected to say what she did then. She had not even known she thought it. But it was true, and it felt very important to say it now. "Then you know that only you can save me. Please."
As she waited for the answer, the figure before her became that much more tangible, just a little more solid, not quite so transparent, even though he remained vague and half formed. The man held up a hand. He nodded, not in affirmation but to indicate that he would answer her. It was an offer that deserved consideration, and he was not so at peace with death that he would fail to think it through. He just needed a few moments. Then he would answer her.
Queen Corinn Akaran folded her hands in her lap and sat as straight backed as she could in her fatigue, awaiting the spirit's answer, ready-if he should accept-to whisper his name and complete the spell and bring him truly back into the world. Aliver Akaran, she would say, and mean every word, life needs you still. I need you still. Come back. Fight the coming war at my side. Complete the work you left undone…