บท 15: 15.
It was impossible, until it was easy. As natural as falling, but coming, only after you have learned how to fly.
[Inri had no way of knowing that many who had been given this book, had failed at this first hurdle. A seer would turn up the next morning, seize the book, and bustle away. There were back-ups prepared. There had to be. Losing the book left the candidate aware they had failed, but actually much better off for it, really. Most had the sense to be relieved.
The author of the book had failed to realize that an excess of preparation is destructive to successfully taking a leap of faith, or in this case, a leap of ignorance. And a powerful leap was needed to go from being a normal sort of person to being a necromancer, regardless of what propelled it. Inri's soul did not know it was learning to fly. It did not know it was going to fall. It did not that instead of hitting the spiritual ground it would break through to the realm of the dead. Like a seabird diving and seizing a fish. A small silver soul, still unsure that it was even dead.
And then it wasn't.]
Inri fell into an exhausted unconsciousness the very moment he thrust the soul back into the child's body. The whole endeavor might still have failed there but the young soul and the young body fell into accord very rapidly. They slide into being not-dead--but a sliver of space, that was in truth still a fraction short of truly alive. This was not the kind of person the book expected to be offered as the first, bt in this--as in many other things--the book might well be wrong.]
The girl blinked. She lay still a long time. She sat up, her skirts spread out around her. She adjusted her top and smoothed it over her torso. The pattern scratched into the stones on the floor was reassuring to her, she knew it had saved her and smiled. A few of the candles still flickered through her own profile, dancing and overlapping across the uneven walls. She would not have to go home now. That was good, this place would be better.
Having always been a cheerful child despite her difficult circumstances, Dirigea simply adjusted to her new circumstances, just as they were.
The bald cat strutted over and rubbed against her side. Its round eyes glowing slightly orange-pink.
"Poor kitty." Dirigea patted its knobbly back gently with her fingertips.
The cat immediately liked the little girl, and started purring loudly.
She eventually stood, gradually finding her body become malleable again if not warm. She half-crawled up the steep stairway to the second level. She investigated everything there quite thoroughly although none of it struck her as interesting.
Coming back down she stood, looking at Inro who lay on his back, snoring. The ritual took special care with the first of a new cohort. It prodded them to recognize their creator, and to be loyal to them, and to prepare for her role as leader of those who will come after her. It was also meant to erase the corpses memories of their former life but in this aspect it had failed. Perhaps because the body was fresh or the brain was young and still a tangle of neurons still haphazardly connected to each other in youthful excess--gripping hard to what little they already knew.
She saw the amulet lying on the ground and recognized it also. She reached back into her tangled hair and pulled out her ribbon. She threaded it through the hole in the stone. Then kneeling down, carefully pushed the pale yellow ribbon under Inri's neck and tied it with a tidy bow.
Satisfied with that, she turned and wondered how to occupy herself. She did not need sleep. In the modest home of her cruel mother she had been expected to be useful. She had always rather liked being useful even if it was never enough to satisfy Mama. The marks left on her body from her mother's beating, from her death, were smoothed away leaving skin as perfect and pale as an enameled doll.
There was no broom, but climbing up right to the top of the twer she pulled out a big handful or the straw that poked through from the remains of the roof. It was enough for a makeshift brush. It would have been better if she still had the ribbon to tie it together. But she had already gifted that to the Maker and would not dream of taking it back. So she just held it in her hand and systematically removed all trace of the ritual design. The cat followed along behind her, inquisitively attentive.
The next thing she would like to do is dig. The proper place for her kind to live was under the ground. But that would require more arrangements, and permission. She looked at Inri again. Digging would have to wait.
Dirigea checked the door was latched and barred so he would be safe. She trotted upstairs, now feeling quite well and… happy. She tossed the grimy straw in the fireplace. It was unlit. She looked at it, cocking her head. Dirigea did not need warm and suspected she would not even like it. But the maker should not get too cold.
She was pleased to have more to do. She carried a blanket off the bed to take down to cover him. After that she would light the fire. She might just be strong enough to carry him upstairs, she looked at her small hands, feeling the strange power in her dainty fingers. But she was small and would probably bang his head or limbs and that just would not do.
The next best thing would be to have the living room warm and tidy and ready for him when he woke. She hoped he would be pleased.
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