The Power and the Glory

Book 1 Chapter XXI: The Necromancer

Genius is always allowed some leeway, once the hammer has been pried from its hands and the blood has been cleaned up. -- Terry Pratchett, Thief of Time

In hindsight it was usually easy to see where everything had gone catastrophically wrong. There was always at least one moment you could point to and think, 'If only I'd done that differently'. Even if the person responsible couldn't see it, someone else would always be able to spot it. Historians spent their lives studying the chain of minor, unnoticed events that culminated in disaster.

It was a pity those minor, unnoticed events were never so easy to see before the disaster.

On festival days the guards were always more careless around the royal palaces. They were reduced to a mere skeleton staff, more interested in attending their own parties than doing their job. A few dedicated guards saw the problem with this and made sure they were around to keep an eye on things. But they were very few, and very far between. Most of the palace was unguarded.

It was a recipe for mayhem. There were no guards around to see a very odd figure shuffle up the steps leading to the main palace. Everyone who should have been on duty there were happily setting off fireworks and drinking with their friends.

Inside the palace the party-goers were preparing to go up to the roof. Evening had fallen, the sun had set, and the meteor shower would soon begin. All of them lit their lanterns and slowly made their way out of the ballroom.

With all the people milling around it was almost impossible to keep track of your companions. Abi found herself separated from Irímé and surrounded by people she only vaguely recognised. None of them spared her a second glance. She elbowed her way through the crowd, clutching her lantern to her chest so she didn't drop it and risk starting a fire, until she found someone she recognised.

"Kitri!"

She fully expected Kitri to run away as if a horde of demons were after her. But apparently the general air of festivity had overcome even necromancy-induced dislike, because Kitri smiled and waved at her as if the zombie apocalypse had never happened.

"Did you see some of those fireworks?" she shouted as she approached Abi. She had to shout just to be heard over the noise everyone else was making. "One of them looked just like a phoenix!"

Abi's smile became slightly fixed. Phoenixes were the source of some mild embarrassment for her. When she was born the priests and soothsayers had told her parents she would be a phoenix immortal, like her grandfather and many other past members of the Royal House of Sinistrah. It was one of the reasons she had been fostered in Seroyawa, for the phoenix was the symbol of the Royal House of Asajihisakata. Yet years had passed and she had never displayed any signs of being a shapeshifter of any sort. Kiriyuki and Mirio had been able to turn into sea serpents from the first few days of their lives. Arafaren, a raven immortal, had taken much longer to get the hang of his wings. But all of them were able to change form at will.

It wasn't uncommon for someone to have no talent at shapeshifting. It wasn't even uncommon for priests and soothsayers to be utterly wrong. Irímé was in the same position. Everyone had been sure he was a dragon immortal, hence his name[1]. He had never even managed to breath smoke, let alone fire, and had certainly never turned into a dragon.

Years ago he'd told her he was perfectly happy with this state of affairs. His exact words had been, "If I turned into a dragon Mother might add me to her collection."

There was a good chance he was right.

Anyway, it was still embarrassing to know Fate had played such a shoddy trick on her. Abi preferred not to think about phoenixes unless she couldn't avoid it.