A father-daughter spat sends young necromancer Emilia Mortalis to seek out her real parents, beginning with a summoning in a cemetery, where she encounters a faceless Angel statue. When her foster father is killed while fighting in the Badlands, sh...
"Of course, she can stay here," exclaimed Artie Pendragon, wiping down the bar. "By Bob the Eldest God, young 'un, you're family. When you an' the other Wizkiddles helped out the Dwarven Princess...by Jack Thunder's nuts, you were somethin'!"
Young Ravvy put their arm on her shoulder. "You're always welcome here. You'll be like...like my little sister!"
Kharimar burst out laughing. "You mean your smarter little sister!"
"That goes without saying," Emmy said. Gutshank leapt from her pocket and started to drink the moisture from the side of her cold glass of apple berry lemonade. The netherspider then began investigating an overturned ale tankard that lay on the floor. An occupied tankard, evidently - a squeak erupted from it, sending Gutshank scuttling at top speed back into Emmy's frock pocket.
Drattus Thaddeus Rattus poked his whiskers out of the tankard, and shouted, "You need to teach that chitterin' ball o' legs and spider-spit some manners!"
"And YOU," said Artie, "Need ta' find yerself a better bed ta' sleep in!" And he picked up the tankard by its handle, brought it over to the bar's wash basin, and deposited both it and Drattus into the soapy water. Drattus erupted out of the basin, did a double somersault (soaking Artie in the process) and landed on the bar countertop.
"Speakin' o' beds ta' sleep in, where 'zactly will Emmy be takin' up rezzy-dence?" asked the immortal rodent.
"Wherever she wants," replied Redner. The tavern's zombie janitor, handyman and 'maid' walked over to Emmy and bowed deeply. Emilia had created him when he was less than 12 hours dead, so his brain was only slightly out-of-tune. His uniform covered up the hole in his torso.
"Y...you look prettier each time I see you, Em...Millie...Emmy! 'Course ah don't 'member the last t...time I saw you, but ah'm shore yer prettier!" Redner batted at some of the flies gathering around him, and Gutshank quickly dispatched a few, silk threads flying out like lassoes from Emmy's pocket.
Emmy thought about the nice rooms they had upstairs. She'd never slept in a fancy bed before, not even one with a straw mattress. Maybe it would be better to not get used to it. You can't miss what you've never had, she thought. Then again, she'd never really had a mom either – but she missed her anyway. She thought it over a bit more.
She excused herself from the table where her friends sat and somehow managed to sit on one of the stools at the bar. Motioning to Artie, she leaned over and began whispering in his ear. A few times he stopped her, asking questions of her. In the end, he nodded.
"Ravvy, bring some blankets and a small pillow – no, Emmy, no guest of mine is going to sleep on a cold floor, we discussed this! – and bring them to the basement. Also a few candles and a water pitcher and glass. A little table, too. Redner, you clean out that basement until the floor's clean enough for Prince Ampersand himself to eat off of! And Drattus, you need to place the usual wards there."
"What's that?" asked Kharimar.
"Wards?" inquired Ravvy.
"Every guest room in this Tavern, and the Tavern itself," said Drattus, "is warded."
"Why?" said Emmy, curious.
"Warded against what?" continued Elona.
"Or against who?" demanded Ravvy.
"One day you might find out. I hope you never do." Artie looked at all of them and said no more.
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She found herself part of an unusual but incredibly loving family at the Old Priest & Rat. It had always only been herself and Da...her not-father. And he didn't talk much, if at all. He didn't ever raise a hand to her and considering some of the stories she'd heard from the kids on the street, she was glad of it. But 'Uncle' Artie always gave her a kiss and a hug when she'd get back from school.
Emmy continued attending Miss Frumplin's School with Khari and Elly, helping out at the tavern whenever she could. She enjoyed keeping the storage room in order and helping Redner keep things where they should be. Occasionally the zombie would forget that frozen things should be in the cold room, or that wine bottles should never be left where the sun could reach them. Ravvy tried to get her more accustomed to being around strangers but dealing with all kinds of people was Ravvy's particular gift and not hers.
Two years into her stay, a month before Winterflame, came news that the skirmishes in the Badlands had taken a turn for the worst. The Beor Bulletin reported that a lone survivor from the Royal Army had stumbled, half-dead, into the Castle to inform their Majesties that every last soldier had died. Some sort of magical sickness had felled many, leaving the remaining troops to be slaughtered by swarms of tribesmen.
When Artie told Emmy, she cried, running out of the Tavern. She leaned against the doorframe, wracked with sobs. She'd never sobbed before, not like this, and it both repulsed and frightened her. Repulsed, because such weakness should never be on public display, yet here she was, weeping for the world to see. Frightened, because it was possible that he wasn't even her father, so it made no sense for her to cry. Even if she did love him, just a little.
"Emmy," said Ravvy, who'd followed her outside, "I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do?"
"Yes, yes there is," she replied, "Can you take me to Tasuil Beor?"
