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across his chest, slid apart, dropped wearily to his sides.
"I understand. I didn't then, of course. And I can't help my anger. You have
no idea" the black eyes were shadowed, filled with anguish and pain "what we
have suffered. But what you say is true. We brought this evil upon ourselves
by our own rash actions. It is up to us to deal with it. What is wrong with
the woman?"
Balthazar eyed Marit closely. "She must belong to the same race of people as
that friend of yours what was his name? Haplo. I recognize the rune-markings
on the skin."
"She was attacked by one of the lazar," Alfred explained, gazing down at
Marit. She was no longer in pain. She was unconscious.
Balthazar's expression grew dark, grim. "Some of our people have met the same
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fate. There is nothing that can be done for her, I fear."
"On the contrary." Alfred flushed. "I can heal her. But she needs to be
someplace quiet, where she can sleep undisturbed for many hours."
Balthazar gazed at Alfred with unblinking eyes. "I forgot," the necromancer
said at last. "I forgot you possessed skills that we have lost ... or no
longer have the strength to practice. Bring her inside. She will be safe here
... as safe as anywhere in this doomed world."
The necromancer led the way deeper into the cave. As they went, they passed by
another Sartan, a young woman. Balthazar nodded to her, made her a sign. She
cast one curious glance at Alfred and his companions, then left, heading
outside. Within a few moments, two other Sartan appeared.
"If you want, they will take the woman on ahead to our living area, make her
comfortable," Balthazar suggested.
Alfred hesitated. He wasn't entirely certain he trusted these people ... his
people.
"I will only keep you a few moments," Balthazar said. "But I would like to
talk with you."
The black eyes penetrated, probed. Alfred had the uneasy feeling that they
were seeing much more than he wanted them to see. And it was obvious the
necromancer wasn't going to permit Alfred to do anything for Marit until
Balthazar's curiosity or whatever it was was satisfied.
Reluctantly, Alfred relinquished Marit to the care of the Sartan. They treated
her with tenderness and bore her carefully back to the interior of the cavern.
He couldn't help noting, however, that the two Sartan who had taken charge of
Marit were almost as weak as the injured Patryn.
"You were warned of our coming," Alfred said, thinking back to the person he'd
seen moving among the rocks.
"We keep watch for the lazar," Balthazar answered. "Please, let us sit a
moment. Walking fatigues me." He sank down, almost collapsing, upon a boulder.
"You're not using the dead ... for scouts," Alfred said slowly, remembering
the last time he'd been on this world. "Or to fight for you?"
Balthazar cast him a sharp, shrewd glance. "No, we are not." His gaze shifted
to the shadows that had deepened around them as they moved farther into the
cave. "We do not practice the necromancy anymore."
"I am glad," Alfred said emotionally. "So very glad. Your decision was the
right one. The power of necromancy has already done great harm to our people."
"The ability to bring the dead back to life is a strong temptation, arising as
it does out of what we call love and compassion." Balthazar sighed.
"Unfortunately, it is really only the selfish desire to hold on to something
we should let go. Shortsighted and arrogant, we imagine that this mortal state
is the apex, the best we can achieve. We have learned that such is not the
case."
Alfred regarded him with astonishment. "You have learned? How?"
"My prince, my cherished Edmund, had the courage to show us. We honor his
memory. The souls of our dead are free to depart now, their bodies laid to
rest with respect.
"Unfortunately," he added, the bitterness returning, "burying our dead is a
task that has become all too common . . ."
Lowering his head into his hand, he sought vainly to hide his tears. The dog
pattered forward, willing to forgive the earlier misunderstanding. It placed
its paw on the necromancer's knee, gazed up at him with sympathetic eyes.
"We fled inland to escape the lazar. But they caught up with us. We fought
them, a losing battle, as we well knew. Then one of their number a young
nobleman known as Jonathon stepped forward. He freed Prince Edmund, sent his
spirit to rest, and proved to us that what we had feared all these centuries
was not true. The soul does not fall into oblivion, but lives on. We had been
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wrong to chain that soul to its prison of flesh. Jonathon held off Kleitus and
the other lazar, gave us time to escape to safety.
"We hid in the outback for as long as we could. But our food supplies were
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