To Sunburn a Necromancer
A scoundrel and a necromancer get up to no good while on a pleasant countryside jaunt
Editorial Note:
It’s been longer than I like since I last posted a story here, so I’m going to change a my processes around writing, editing and publishing to get more consistent. Consistency is key they say! Not sure who ‘they’ are in this case but I hear it all the time so the pronoun seems appropriate.
I was in a bit of a scramble last week to finish my self-assigned stretch goal of writing a short story every day for 3 months, to which I am happy to say I have succeeded. Obviously, as a writer there was some procrastination in the middle there so the stretching got intense.
Tragically, I think I may have started a new novel in the process, so I’m not sure that counts as a success or abject failure. I guess this mystery will have to unfold in its own time.
But enough of me talking about myself. To the Story!
And if you haven’t read it, Jasmine and Renfrau have a preceding story:
“A Just Man and his Cards.”
Robin
"To Sunburn a Necromancer"
“What a nice day,” The slight man said to the woman dressed in a long black coat with intricate black embroidery, long black gloves and the blackest of boots. She scowled at him.
This world had not yet felt the colonising power of high goth fashion, but IF IT HAD, this woman would be a champion of the community. She did not wear black makeup to attract, but to terrify and her pale skin only served to amplify the blackness of her clothes. The lonely colours of her emerald green pendant, and blood red ring did little to dispel the notion that here stood a sorceress of the blackest arts.
But to believe that would be a mistake.
Because she was a Necromancer.
Sorceresses were too whimsical and colourful in Jasmine’s eyes. Often, men upon meeting her would make the bold assumption that she was a dark sorceress based on her aesthetic. And obviously Jasmine was the name of a sorceress.
But these men rarely had the opportunity of making that mistake twice. Jasmine had learned many ways to make men disappear. Sometimes with magic, sometimes with murder, and sometimes with sarcasm. Much like witches - Jasmine thought of men as “optional” bordering on “annoying.”
Which made her partnership with Renfrau all the more odd. He was, absolutely, in the category of men she found very annoying. But he was… unfortunately for her… also useful. She sighed, dramatically, communicating her professional tolerance.
“Yes, it is a wonderful day to be burned by a hostile sun.” She said from beneath her broad black sunhat. She had gotten it made especially in the Southern Montaignian style. All her clothes were very Montaignian - just not the colour. She loved the cut but thought the colours were gauche.
“And a wonderful day to see your victims coming for leagues!” Renfrau said happily, atop his perch on the tall boulder beside the road to Miraan.
It was an oddly placed boulder. On a hill, in the middle of a rolling countryside. As though plucked from a mountain, far far away, and placed here as if it were the centrepiece of a coffee table. It was a friendless boulder, alone in a giant boulder-less countryside.
Additionally, this part of the countryside was quite bare of trees. So being on top of a hill, with few intervening objects of any height, made it the perfect lookout point to see far across the countryside.
And of course, to be seen from far across the countryside. Which is why Jasmine hated it.
But she suspected that Renfrau loved to be seen and that if he didn’t have an audience, he would simply fade into non-existence.
“Like those ones!” He said, sounding excited. Jasmine started. She had begun to suspect that she was wasting her time. She peeked around the boulder, doing her best to be inconspicuous.
However, her fashion choices were based on creating an atmosphere of beautiful intimidation. Dark makeup and intricate black dresses with large black sun hats on bright sunny days attract the same kind of attention as the giant dark pits in the middle of a construction site. You can’t help but notice the dark thing that screams ‘danger’ the closer you get to it and yet you want to get closer so you can get a better look.1
No one has yet told her that she was bad at sneaking for related reasons.2
Sure enough, a pair of horses were pulling an enclosed carriage down the road, heading straight towards them at a hurried pace. Well, winding towards them. Something about road planners and their relationship to the countryside rarely seems to result in “straight roads,” despite there being no noticeable obstacle to linearity. Aside from geography. But wasn’t the point of building roads to conquer geography? Show the land who’s boss? People with horse drawn carriages, that’s who.
And this bossy carriage was escorted by half a dozen heavily armed knights.
“Would you say Count Vicaul is worth six knights or twelve for his escort?” Renfrau said wonderingly.
Jasmine looked at him with a raised eyebrow. Renfrau had such an odd way about viewing the world. “Wouldn’t his guard be what he has available to protect him at the time?”
“Ol’ Vicaul is a pomp for ceremony. If he picked six knights, he’d have a reason. I feel that’s a smaller number than his ego would normally require.” Renfrau mused. They didn’t have time to debate the finer points of Count Vicaul’s narcissistic tendencies, as the horse carriage and guard were upon them in moments.
Renfrau hopped off the ten foot tall boulder with a casual grace. Jasmine often wondered about his lack of concern for complex acrobatics and things that most other humans regarded as important, like “gravity.” He was, as mentioned earlier, rather useful in that way.
He wandered towards the knights, holding up his hand in greeting like a young man waving down his six heavily armed brothers returning home from the war. The men pulled up their horses in confused acknowledgement and the carriage began slowing down.
Jasmine kept herself behind the rock. Knights tended to get twitchy when they saw her. With good reason.
“Mail delivery!” Yelled Renfrau with excite-ability. Jasmine rolled her eyes. The two lead knights looked at each other. “I have a letter for Count Vicaul! From his Lordship Baron von Greatness!”
“What?” Said the knight with a shield emblazoned with the crest of a golden sun setting behind a red dragon. Jasmine immediately hated him. Only the most arrogant of knights went for such extravagant power symbols.3
“Lordship Baron von Greatness? What lord would put up with a name like that?” The man said, his confusion giving way to sneering contempt. “Name yourself vagabond, and what business you have with Count Vicaul.”
“So this isssss Count Vicaul’s carriage? I would hate to deliver his mail to the wrong person. It’s extremely important that the Count gets this letter. I’ve been waiting here for…” Renfrau looked up at the sun and squinted.
“Oh I have no idea. Three days? Four?” Renfrau said, his gaze sliding back to the knights, who had fanned out in a half circle around Renfrau. He smiled at their aggressive posturing - or being the centre of attention. Jasmine was never sure which with him.
He was a miscreant who belonged on stage, but for an accident of birth that made him remarkably good at skullduggery. His talent for nefarious mischief was such that being an actor would have been a waste and a disservice to the world of crime.
After all, the whole world is a stage when you’re an amoral dramatic liar.
“Why have we stopped!” shouted an angry pompous voice from inside the carriage. Its door banged open and a tall slim middle aged man in exquisitely tailored black and gold clothing stepped out. This was a man well acquainted with beard oils.
The Sunset Dragon Knight called back, “Your lordship, there is a homeless vagabond here who claims to have a letter for you. On the side of the road. In the middle of nowhere.”
Lord Vicaul guffawed. “Well, that is absolutely absurd. Clearly he’s a bandit and you should run him through, unless he has something terribly clever to say on why we shouldn’t?” He ambled forward to see what the fuss was about.
Jasmine whispered words to herself while drawing patterns in the air. The light around her warps, mirroring the distortion of rising heat vapour, as she shimmers and gradually blurs, seamlessly vanishing from sight.
“Sir! I protest! I am no mere bandit!” Renfrau exclaimed, snapping his hand upwards.
When his arm reached full extension, everyone looked on in amazement as he now held a bound scroll in his hands that had not been there a moment ago. “I am a messenger! I have this letter! Right here! As you can see! And as you can also see, I am neither armed nor armoured!!”
“I am, simply, very excellent at my job. This letter has been delivered with great secrecy to yourself. Sir. The sender of this letter does not wish anyone, other than your MOST trusted retainers, to know THAT you received this letter. Nor does he wish that EVEN your most trusted retainers know WHO it is that’s sending you this letter! Hence the obvious pseudonym of Lord Baron. But I promise you, Sir, that WHEN you read this letter, you will no doubt agree with me that there could not be a more appropriate pseudonym than Lord Baron von Greatness.” Renfrau flourished the scroll in the air like a baton, and then took an elaborate bow at the end of his monologue.
There was a moment of silence as the Knights and the Count processed this absurdity, that had, despite its absurdity, a strangely compelling nature to it. The Count’s eyes narrowed as he processed all the “not exactly information” that had just been provided.4 He gestured at the lead knight to take the letter, who rode his horse over to snatch the letter from Renfrau’s absolutely willing hands.
Renfrau bowed and backed away like an obsequious and well trained noble servant. The sunset dragon knight looked at him with intense distrust, and then handed the letter to one of his colleagues. This knight, with the crest of an oak tree surrounded by a ring of fire, held the letter up in one hand, and waved the other over it while speaking six words of arcane power. The letter shimmered with light for a moment and then faded. The flaming oak knight shook his head, and handed the letter back to the sunset dragon knight, who harrumphed in disbelief, and went over to deliver it to Count Vicaul.
Count Vicaul took the letter, and viewed the seal with a raised eyebrow. He broke it apart and began reading. At first, he looked confused. Then angry. And then he froze.
But the sunset dragon knight was back to watching Renfrau. All the knights were watching Renfrau.
So they hadn’t seen Jasmine. Which was precisely what she preferred, and had planned for. None of them could see her, because of the intricate magic she had woven to render herself unseeable. Not just invisible, as it was likely the knight-magi would have been able to see her anyways, but imperceptible, so that even the usually reliable second sight would just look right past her.
Which is why she found it unnerving that Renfrau gave her a huge smile of encouragement. She didn’t want to be seen by him, and he shouldn’t be able to. Renfrau wasn’t a wizard.5
She was standing behind Count Vicaul with a hand on his back. A pale green light slipped from her ring, sliding down her hand and into Vicaul’s back. When spirits take possession of a man, there’s usually an adjustment period as the spirit remembers how to navigate a body. He stood like a statue, awkwardly holding a letter he was no longer reading.
She leaned into the Count and whispered something in his ears. Something only he could hear and not Renfrau nor any of the Knights who were far too busy looking at Renfrau. The Count nodded once, sharply and stiffly.
“Tell the Lord Baron I agree to his request, and I’ll meet his representative in Miraan on the morrow.” The Count said, the tenor of his voice changed ever so slightly, like the voice of a man who had received unpleasant news. Or… had been possessed by a spirit of the dead or a daemon. Most people wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.
Jasmine slipped away behind the carriage. Unnoticed by all… probably.
Renfrau's face lit up with a huge smile, and he bowed, “Of course Your Lordship. His Lordship will be pleased to hear of your response. Safest of journeys to you. These hills are full of bandits and other villains. I’ve even heard tales of a necromancer prowling these lands of late. Be most careful!”
The Count, his new ghostly companion, the carriage driver and the six knights left Renfrau by the side of the road. The retainers watched him warily and with confusion and wonder about what had just transpired.
As they disappeared over a hill, Jasmine’s cloak of unseeing faded away as she ambled up to Renfrau.
“Really. Tales of necromancers.” She said, looking very unimpressed. Jasmine was a world class talent at looking unimpressed.6
“I could have sworn I heard tales of necromancers just yesterday! In this area!” Renfrau protested innocently. “What is this neighbourhood coming too!”
She scoffed. Renfrau laughed. “Misdirection my dear! Always leave them guessing.”
“Don’t call me dear, Renfrau.” She said flatly, her arms crossing over her chest.
“Of course my darling!” He said, with a fox’s grin, and hands on hips.
“Don’t call me darling.” She said so flatly, it nearly broke the 3rd dimension.
“Of course my….” He said and paused as she held up a single finger and pointed it at him.
“Most talented and hard working business partner!” he finished without missing a beat.
She snorted, her eyes narrowed to slits, hand dropping to her side.
“Shall we return to Miraan?” He said, bowing and gesturing back down the road they had come down, the road slightly dusty from the retreating carriage and knights.
Without saying a word, Jasmine began the long trek back to Miraan. There was, after all, much work left to do.
Curiosity doesn’t just kill cats. It also kills scientists, adventurers, hard partiers and anyone else who doesn’t limit their curiosity to only reading funny stories.
And even then…
Renfrau hasn’t because he genuinely enjoys the attention, and assumes she does too.
Or the ignorant. As an example, look up “Caduceus as a symbol of medicine.”
Is it spycraft or is it improvised bullshit? The eternal question.
This was an assumption on her part, as she’d never seen him use magic. Though Renfrau’s command of absurdity has a certain magical quality to it.
Which for most people was an incentive not to annoy her. Unfortunately for her, Renfrau adored that look of hers.