The Power and the Glory

Book 3 Chapter XIX: Ill-Fated

I took a little journey to the unknown
And I come back changed, I can feel it in my bones
-- Lord Huron, Meet Me in the Woods

Abi remained under house arrest right up until the time came for her to set off for the ship. She was watched everywhere except while she slept. In the garden, in the library, in the sitting room... It was enraging. She couldn't even read without one of her parents or siblings coming up and looking over her shoulder just to make sure her book had nothing to do with necromancy. Any more of this and she would go stark raving mad.

She made a point of behaving as mundanely as possible. In fact she went a step further and tried to make herself downright boring. She pored over lengthy treaties on sewing and gardening. She did her best to entrap Arafaren, her designated watcher on most days, in a conversation about tadpoles. For the first time in centuries she consciously made an effort to follow her etiquette lessons to the letter. Overnight she became a model of proper behaviour -- outwardly, at least. The only problem was that this method bored her just as much as the rest of her family.

While in search of something, anything, to do, Abi hit upon a useful occupation that would pass the time and that no one could possibly object to. Like all Saoridhian families the Sinistrahs placed a great deal of importance on family trees. There was an entire room in the palace dedicated to family records and portraits. Every few decades someone was supposed to go through it and make sure everything was in its proper place. In practice it was usually left alone for several centuries at a time.

Arafaren made a despairing face when he heard she intended to sort through the record room.

"Oh no!" he wailed. "You're trying to bore me to tears, aren't you?"

Abi shrugged and didn't deny it.

He grumbled and complained all through dinner. But it was no use. Their parents gave their permission for Abi's project, so Arafaren had to tag along. The housekeeper left out a stack of dusters for them both. Abi handed them all to Arafaren and let him carry them to the record room.

She opened the door. Immediately she began to reconsider this plan. There was a collection of portraits piled in the corner under dust-sheets. Obviously someone had intended to put them back on the walls then forgot all about them. The only filing cabinets that were clean were the ones holding records about the most recent generations. All of the older cabinets were covered in dust. The wooden floor was coated with a thick carpet of dust too.

Arafaren dropped the dusters down on a bench beside the door. He drew his breath in sharply. "Whew! You've picked the hardest job you can find, haven't you?"

Abi said nothing. She was already trying to figure out if it was too late to change her mind. Alas, it probably was.

"Get a broom and sweep the floor," she said. "I'll see where those pictures go."

Arafaren scowled and folded his arms. "You get a broom. This was all your idea. I'll have nothing to do with it."

The only good thing about having a prankster for a brother was the amount of blackmail material he had given her over the years. Abi stared him in the eye without blinking. "Go and get a broom, or I'll tell Mother the truth about the incident of the table, the paintbrush, and the scarf."

Arafaren made a noise somewhere between a squeak and a groan. "You wouldn't!"

Abi nodded solemnly. "I might even tell her about the incident with the water bottles."

He sank down onto the bench with the air of one who had just been condemned to death. Looking up at her with an attempt at defiance he said, "You're hardly one to talk, Miss Necromancer!"