A Conversation on the Road

Malus sensed the approach of another rider from behind and left. Ellis has finally decided to satisfy his curiosity, he thought. He felt a certain satisfaction when he proved to be right. Ellis trotted his brown mare warhorse alongside and fell into pace. Malus briefly looked over in the direction of the veteran soldier.

Ellis was a striking figure whose spine might as well have been fused, as much as he kept it ramrod straight. He had the kind of face that might have been chiseled from stone, and just as impassive. Malus had admired him from their first meeting for at once embodying the consummate soldier and yet with a surprisingly wry sense of humor. Orderliness and precision were fine and often necessary, but too often overdone and untempered with levity, making one insufferable. Nobody likes a fuddy duddy, except maybe other fuddy duddies.

“What questions can I answer for you?” Malus gave one of his trademark lopsided and toothy grins to avoid sounding severe. “The Fathers know much and are free with their information, for those who have the wit to understand it.”

“So how does that work,” Ellis said, amused. “Do you hear the questions and then a disembodied voice whispers in your ear with the answers, or do you just give whatever answer you wish and then the Gods make it happen?”

“Closer to option two, but still far from it. Most of the questions I’m asked are about fate and how it operates in the lives of mortals. These are things I’ve spent decades learning straight from the guardians of fate themselves, so answering them hardly requires direct divine inspiration. The common exception is those who want to hear from a dead loved one. Far too many people know I’m a necropath, unfortunately, and far too few want to know anything of actual value.”

Ellis looked slightly puzzled. “That, sir, is why I seek your counsel. Rumor has it that the enchanted headbone that you always keep by your side is how you communicate with them. I like to know the the capabilities of the men upon whom my life may depend, and information can be worth a squad of soldiers.”

“Meagan is not how I speak to the dead. That was a gift from the Fathers from the time I was able to form cohesive thought. Meagan is how I don’t speak the dead. She is a singular being who is able to guard the thoughts of others. This talent is unknown anywhere else, making her priceless to those with secrets. She can speak with, understand, and be understood by nearby dead, making her priceless to necromancers, especially those who are not necropaths, which is pretty much all of them.”

“If you’re a necropath, then her value to you must be in keeping your secrets then, assuming I heard you right.”

“Once, she was all that stood between me and madness. Then, the dead could talk to me, usually loudly, and they never stopped. I had no secrets to keep, but she kept them out of my head. I have since developed other methods to protect myself. Without Meagan they would merely be extremely annoying. I value what she can do, but what makes her priceless to me is that she is my family and my dearest friend.”

“Do you have secrets worth keeping now, Malus?”

“Perhaps. Mostly the depravities of my errant and idle thoughts that I prefer not to share with others lest I be humiliated.”

“Do you have a lot of depraved thoughts,” Ellis asked, chuckling.

“No more than other men, I suspect, only fueled by the things that the restless dead show me.”

“That bad?”

“Well. The dead who remain attached to this world are those who are without peace in their heart. Some find that peace in death, and some linger. The worst sorts can never find peace, so they linger eternally. Over the millenia, they tend to pile up.”

“I can see that. But why is it that Meagan has not moved on. What troubles her in death and binds her here?”

“Once, it was Mortifera’s foul magic that bound her here. But the Fathers removed that tether and gave her the choice to move on. She chose to stay and care for me. Even now, when I no longer depend on her to live, she stays. She has but to ask and I would send her on to her reward. Her purity is such that she will sit on the right hand of her god. I have explained this to her, and I believe that she believes me, yet she stays. We all have our choices to make, Ellis, and I am not one to take choice away from others, not even for their own good.”

“And yet you have raised the dead to do your bidding, or so it is told in the barracks.”

“They tell it true. My reasons are my own, but I will say this. Our choices lead to consequences. That is the essense of fate. One consequence of trying to frustrate fate, the cosmic balance, is to be compelled into its service. As I am the foremost living agent of fate in this world, I have the authority to enforce those consequences.”

“That seems awfully convenient. I’m not evil, but I use the tools of evil to defeat evil, therefore I am good for my cause is just.”

“That’s an insightful thought. But it is based upon the premise that I am good. I am neither good, nor evil. I am the balance between self-interest and apparent altruism. Between cruelty and kindness. Between righteousness and wantonness.”

“So if the cause of good were to triumph and become ascendant, you would fight on the side of evil?”

“Were it necessary, yes. But it has never been necessary, and it never will be. Each triumph of good bears within it the seeds of it’s own corruption. Good kings become tyrants. Good men become desperate. Good churches succumb to greed. Good degenerates to evil. It is the nature of mortal beings. When fate puts its finger on the scale, it is always to mitigate excesses of evil.”

“So the Drow are an ‘excess of evil’?” Ellis shook his head as if to put the lie to what he had just said. “Who is to say that the Drow are not just a corrective to the excesses of the Elves?”

“Now you’re using your noodle, my son.”

“Aren’t we about the same age?”

“It’s just an affectation that we priests use.”

“If you’re a priest, shouldn’t you hold Firstday services?”

“I’m not that kind of priest.”

“Then what kind of priest are you?”

“The kind that goes where needed to promote the will of my gods.”

“Which looks strangly like whatever you feel like doing.”

“Only to the unitiated.”

“And who are the initiated?”

“Well. Me.”

“Nice job if you can get it.”

“You have no idea.”