The Power and the Glory

Book 2 Chapter X: Abi in Trouble

"Oh, no," said the Lecturer in Recent Runes, pushing his chair back. "Not that. That's meddling with things you don't understand."
"Well, we are wizards," said Ridcully. "We're supposed to meddle with things we don't understand. If we hung around waitin' till we understood things we'd never get anything done."
-- Terry Pratchett, Interesting Times

Few things could make a person feel smaller than facing an older and -- generally -- respected relative who was disappointed in them. That feeling only increased tenfold when the older and generally respected relative was the empress, could have them thrown in the dungeon with the wave of her hand, and had good reason to be both disappointed and angry with them.

"You have no need for lengthy explanations or excuses," Raivíth said grimly. "I think the facts speak for themselves. There's only one thing I want to know." She stared Abi in the eye until Abi felt as insignificant as a speck of dust. "Why in the name of all that's holy did you decide to become a necromancer?"

She had many reasons. She'd already told Irímé and Kitri the most convincing ones. They suddenly seemed very unconvincing now she thought of telling her grandmother.

"I think it's a useful skill," she said. She was embarrassed to hear how her voice quavered. "You know Grandfather's always telling us to learn as many skills as possible in case we need them." 

Raivíth closed her eyes. She took a deep breath. There was a brief pause that suggested she was silently counting to ten. "Your grandfather meant skills like cooking, sword fighting, and first aid. Not dark magic. Certainly not meddling with things only the gods can understand. Shall I ask him to come and hear how badly you misinterpreted his advice?"

Abi winced. Emperor Consort Ninuath was normally calm and even-tempered, but the entire royal family lived in fear of the times when he did lose his temper. Time to try another tactic.

"I've already raised the dead and nothing bad has happened." That was technically true if you limited the definition of 'bad' to mean exclusively 'they attacked or killed someone'. Disrupting a festival was what most people would consider bad, but no one had actually been hurt. So Abi decided to disregard that incident entirely. "Irímé can confirm it."

Irímé gave her a horrified look. She mouthed the word "mouse" at him. Thank goodness he got the point.

"She raised a mouse from the dead, your Majesty," he said, very politely and as if they were having an amiable chat over cups of tea.

Raivíth eyed him sourly. "She raised more than that, I think. I thought that story of yours was threadbare. Now I see you were trying to protect her. Tell me, Rilluintiar, what made you think inviting a corpse to the festival was a good idea?"

It was never a good sign when relatives started using your kelros-name[1]. It was an even worse sign when they made it sound like an especially vile insult.

Sometimes Abi had to wonder if parents and grandparents developed a sixth sense for when a child or adolescent was doing something they disapproved of, and a seventh sense for knowing exactly what it was. Her foster parents had an amazing ability to summon her or send her off somewhere just when she wanted to do some research into less-than-legal magic. Her biological parents had spent the last month distracting her with things to do with the wedding when she was so close to successfully performing necromancy. And now her grandmother not only knew what she'd done, but she knew last night was her fault. It was uncanny.

"I made a mistake," she said. In an attempt to get the conversation back in the direction she wanted it to go she added, "But everyone saw it didn't attack them! It's perfectly safe."