Release your wife’s soul? Listen, superstitious lamb, I’ve done nothing but create a shade of her mind, cast against the light of my power, to manipulate her corpse. It has as much in common with your wife as that little carved token of yours does with the actual sun.

  -Charleroi of clan Torius, Vampire king of Corlin, deceased

  There was only one faculty left in the investigation, the Faculty of Necromancy. She was sure that their dean knew about the investigation, despite not attending any of the meetings. That didn’t mean she expected any help from the recluse. If they had been playing the high, aloof hand this long, Komena wasn’t going to be the one to bring them to ground, even with the backing of the other Dean’s.

  It didn’t matter. She was going to be thorough. She didn’t expect a confession from them or damning piece of evidence on the others. She already had enough suspicions to follow up on. Knife to her throat, she could name a culprit right now.

  They were able to quickly wave down a covered cart. It was pulled by large four-legged animal. Its thin tongue peeked out of its long snout to prod at the ground. As they rode along, the claw marks it left in the dirt were swept away by its large broom-like tail.

  The Necromancer’s had originally built there faculty away from the. The reason for this had been forgotten when the city’s borders had expanded to swallow it. Sabbelah was too desperate for space to ignore real estate. That still put it well outside of walking range from the other faculties, necessitating the cart if they wanted to make it there and back to report somewhere safe by nightfall.

  The change in this quieter neighborhood was subtle, but noticeable. People were able to move at a steady pace through the streets instead of being backed up to an aggressive crawl. Peeking outside, Komena saw apartments and the occasional restaurant, but no other stores. The other faculties had entire industries built off providing for the students and researchers. They seemed to only cover immediate, basic needs here.

  The free roads meant that they were able to quickly close in on their destination. Unlike dull browns and bleached white of most other buildings, the stones of the building had been transmuted to a glassy black, unbroken by any windows. Komena could only hope the aesthetic was worth the boiling heat inside. The building itself was smaller than the other main offices, though still the biggest of its own ward. Instead of the spread out mix of palace and factory the other faculties, this was built as a single tower, looming dramatically over the rest of the buildings.

  “I’ve never done Necromancy.” Kave said as they drove closer.

  “Most people haven’t. It’s a complicated subject. Even the easiest spell takes more than I have.” Komena said. She hadn’t been particularly interested in the subject, but she had learned the basics; enough to know the methods and signs of its use. Maybe had held some false hope for a hidden talent that would make it the exception in her disability. Fortunately, necromantic crimes were a rarity. They were usually the work of the powerful, deranged or the perverse, and thankfully all above her usual pay grade. Violations were usually handled by the faculty internally.

  “No, I haven’t studied it at all. Even kept away from places I would see it. Struth was insistent about it. There are old Corlin taboos about it. We spent a lot of time studying those instead.” Kave said.

  “So, you’ve never even seen a specter or skeleton walking around?” Komena asked.

  “I’ve seen pictures. I also saw actual corpses in the back-alleys years and medical dissections. I doubt them moving around will make a difference.” Komena shrugged.

  “I don’t know. They’re rare for a reason. The other continents have banned it. We’re probably the only place that practices openly and we don’t see them running down streets or pulling carriages. We can posture about being objective and rational magicians all we want, but it obviously makes us just as uncomfortable.” She said.

  The scrapping of claws pulling the carriage along came to a stop. A moment later, the driver opened the window and stuck his head inside.

  “My apologies, madam, but old Aza’s not taking another step, and I’m not taking the stick to them over a matter of 20 meters.” He said. Komena shrugged and tossed him an emerald before stepping out of the carriage.

  “Do you want me to stay awhile, and take you back out? This more than covers it.” The man said, tucking the gem into a pocket of the vest he wore over his bare skin.

  “No need, but if you could send few friends of yours to come pick us up soon, we’d appreciate it.” She answered as she and Kave walked the rest of the way to the tower. Too many rides in the same cart would be too easy to track.

  “Of course. You pay like this, and it’ll be an easy sell.” He said, before directing the creature, Aza, to turn and eagerly march off for busier streets.

  The tower’s entrance was a set of dark wooden doors, not big enough to be imposing on their own, until you realized they were just large enough to bring in the necessary material for the school. Komena was a little disappointed to see the doors were smooth. She had been hoping for carved skulls and scavengers. It seemed that they had a sense of restraint somewhere after all.

  Kave pushed the door open. Instead of the oven-like blast of heat she had expected, the air was cold. Not cool, uncomfortably cold, like she had dived as deep as she could into the night sea.

  The tower was bright with mage light, which interacted strangely with the black walls and floor. Shadows were cast, then swallowed up by the bare stone. The path to the stairs leading up to higher floors was marked by a long white and red carpet. The walls were marked out with the occasional art piece. There wasn’t a consistent theme or medium, besides a tendency to the abstract. Murals, paintings and tapestries marked out each of the walls. They were either to help orient people inside the room or to keep the workers from going mad from days spent staring at featureless black walls.

  As they stepped inside, a swirling mass of light that dropped down from the ceiling, landing just in front of them. Kave made a panicked lunge, flying through the lights. They dispersed as he passed before forming into a human form. It was like fog in a glass. A sharp border around something transparent and indistinct.

  “Honored guests, you have arrived at the Faculty of Necromancy. Please state your business or be removed.” A man’s face said, indistinct behind a massive, drooping mustache.

  “We are the Faculty of Agriculture’s Investigative team. My name is Komena Siri, this is my assistant Kave Ironheart. We are here looking into an incident concerning the Dean’s. We would appreciate any assistance you can offer, mister?” Komena said.

  “Identity is irrelevant. I will acquire one of the living for your purposes.” The ghost said, before streaming back up through the ceiling to the higher levels.

  The two of them watched it go, before turning back to one another. Kave’s mouth sparking and smoking again, but without the usual look of rage that usually came with it. Instead, he looked confused. Almost embarrassed. It was the first time she’d seen him really look his age.

  “I don’t know what happened there. I’m sorry, I just-”

  “It’s fine, it’s not like they could really take offense.” Komena said. “The moving around part does make it worse, huh?”

  “I don’t think I’ve gone soft enough to act out on that yet. I’m just on edge here.” He said.

  “Hopefully it’s just atmosphere.” She glanced at the black wall, she could almost make out a shimmer that could have been her reflection, then back at the door. “If you need to step out, I’ll understand.”

  Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

  Kave took a few deep breaths, with less and less smoke coming out each time until it was gone. “No, I’ll keep it in hand.”

  Komena nodded. Any other conversation was interrupted by quick steps echoing down the stairs. Before they were all the way down, the ghost filtered back though the ceiling to where it had been standing.

  “Introducing Jaziret Isafra, Necromancer of the second degree, with a focus on soul harmonics.” It announced, before fading away.

  The necromancer that came down turned out to be a woman around Komena’s age, Shorter than Kave, she had long hair packed into a low hanging, plain black wrap that matched her robes. She flashed an uncertain smile.

  “Hello inspector. I was told to expect you.” She said.

  “I hope you were told to introduce us to your dean. They’re the one best equipped to answer our questions.” Komena replied. Jaziret’s smile didn’t waver, but it quirked oddly, like it was bracing for something.

  “Well, told isn’t the exact term.” She said, pulling a scroll out of her sleeve. “Two days ago, I found this on my desk first thing in the morning. It was haunted by a messenger who told me that you would be coming, that it was to be delivered to you and I was to answer what questions I could about the Dean’s habits.”

  “And you’re sure this message is from the Dean?” Kave asked. He was glaring at Jaziret, his face underlit by his own breath, but he kept his voice steady. The necromancer ignored him, either as mark of composure or desensitization.

  “The scroll has the official faculty seal, and our dean has a unique vernacular.” She said, passing the scroll to Komena, sealed side up. It was marked by an unrecognizable symbol, all swooping curves framed by downward points. Komena peeled it off and opened the scroll. She wasn’t someone who studied, or even respected, calligraphy, but even she could recognize excellence. The text was thin and precise, subtle flourishes on every letter.

  “Komena Siri,” It read. “It is my pleasure to deny you this meeting with me. As of writing this, I am unsure who has employed you to work out which of my compatriots is guilty. However, I am certain in their inability to exert authority against me as an individual and their inability to cooperate without naked blades at their necks.

  Do not take me as unsympathetic to your plight. This course is based in privacy, not contempt. Your work is complimentary to my own, your investigation salvation from my own measures. The potential for this conflict to escalate is poison in my chalice, and if you would play physician, I will joyfully take the role of willing patient.

  As such, I will provide my own alibi. Part of my privileges as Dean is a having a floor of this tower reserved for my use as both a laboratory and living space. I have only left this space for the induction of other Dean’s, which I have done masked and robed. Records of our meeting should be all the verification you need for that. Jaziret can also direct you to the schedule I have my meals delivered by. I imagine a few decades of consistency, along with whatever gossip about me she’s heard, will be able to convince you of that I am uninvolved.

  Should it not be, I remind you that my identity is unknown to not just you, but my peers as well. If I wished one of them dead, I would have imitated the Transmutation faculty and given that scapegoat the end he craves.

  Do not attempt to bait me into a meeting. I am certain that you could find me with Struth’s creature. My death is still beyond his means, and his well within mine. Whatever revenge you rely on from Agriculture for protection, I could rip out. Stem and root and bloom. Ridding the city of him would do wonders for my peace of mind, but priorities are what they are. And so, we three walk this path at peace.

  Unfortunately, I cannot offer you assistance with the other faculty’s. I have spies in place, but they are reporting nothing about this. As I’m sure you’ve already surmised, this means that the murderer is acting alone, without the full backing of their faculty. A fortunate turn for you, if not us all. Also, while I am certain more resources would be useful to you, I have less available than I’d prefer and nothing you would trust.

  I have my own contingencies to put in place should you fail.

  May this be our last correspondence, The Dean of Necromancy.”

  While Komena had been reading, Kave spoke with Jaziret, trying to fill in what information he could.

  “So, if you only need scraps of a corpse to manifest a spirit, why wasn’t the first thing we did get you to summon the Dean of Evocation’s ghost to tell us who killed her?”

  “The process is more complicated than that. We need to insert some information about the person into the spell.” Jaziret answered. “A few core personality traits, important crafts of skills. One of them is the method of death. The spell creates a construct based on the information to imitate the person.”

  ‘But if that’s the case, why bother with the dead at all. Why not just alter the spell to re-create copies of the living? Or create wholly original personas?” He asked.

  “That’s the main question of the field. The spells only work on the dead. Fictious personalities don’t have the level of detail required, and spells that copy the living simply don’t work. I believe that it’s just the Corpus Law interfering with the spell, but there are academic theories that we are binding souls, like the dock workers say we do.”

  Kave nodded in understanding as Komena passed him the letter to read.

  “The letter mentioned that you would be able to show me the records for when meals were delivered. What exactly is in those?” She asked. She got a shrug in response.

  “I believe they’re just receipts. They track the meals that people have had delivered to their rooms on the faculty’s budget, which is something only the higher ups can really justify. You could probably work out if they had guests or something on a certain day from them.” Jaziret said with a shrug. Komena smiled. Comfortable familiarity in this damn tower.

  “Sounds useful, let’s go take a look.”

  ***

  The record room took up the entirety of the tower’s fifth floor. It was divided into claustrophobic hallways by high shelves the touched the ceiling. The meal receipts were between the forwarding address for letters and an extensive list of medical records. They were divided up into large scrolls. One for each season, two a year, going back to the systems’ founding.

  “How far do we need to go for this?” Kave asked.

  “Let’s start two years back. We don’t know how long this was planned for. I’ll take the dry season; you take the stormy one.” Komena said, pulling out the four most recent scrolls and passing the ones capped with lapis to Kave, leaving ones capped with garnets for herself.

  The scrolls were laid out as a simple graph, all the faculty staff covering the edge she pulled out, with dates lining the top of the scroll. This divided the scroll into a series of squares, which in turn were split into two triangles. These were all either blank or marked with a time and a price.

  The Dean’s records were the first row. Komena read through it quickly, pushing the scroll open with her finger as she went through them. It was quick work, as there were just four repeating values. Three meals, all the same price, delivered at the same three times throughout the day, repeating on and on.

  “Kave, are you getting early morning, noon sharp, and late evening?” Komena asked.

  “Yes, same exact times for the whole season.”

  Komena hummed as she rolled open the other scroll. The other entries all had skipped meals or different times, even if just by a matter of minutes from day to day. Everyone except the Dean.

  “Jaziret, how does this system work. Do people set delivery times” Komena asked.

  “Yes, but the process of recording is done by spirits. They’re ordered to record the time the food was picked up, not when it was delivered.” The necromancer answered.

  “Keeping track of the food in case of poisoning?” Kave asked. A nod in response.

  “Smart. Could you bring down the last ten years’ worth of scrolls?” Komena asked.

  The scrolls were floated down and read through. Roles had changed through the years, new people taking up mantles or putting them down. Even without that, peoples schedule changed. Someone’s dinnertime changed from 9 to 5, likely a new spouse trying to enforce a decent schedule. Someone else started taking breakfast well before the sun rose, potentially insomnia or newborn children.

  Through all the changes, The Dean took his three meals, at the same times, for the last decade.

  “Do you want to go back further?” Kave asked.

  “You wouldn’t find a point to it. The Dean doesn’t leave his apartment. The records don’t change no matter how far back you go.” Jaziret said. “That’s not just the faculty altering records. He doesn’t meet with people, doesn’t take deliveries asides from meals and doesn’t come out for faculty business, and barely anything for the other Deans. The faculty is run entirely by messages from him we find on our desks in the morning.”

  “How sure are you that he’s not just slipping out without you all noticing?” Kave asked.

  “If he was, I wouldn’t know. The faculty would though. You know how office politics are. I only keep an eye out to pass the time when it doesn’t concern me, but there are enough people watching for a chance at a quick promotion that they would see something. If there was a secret passage out of his chambers, it would have been found and filled with something dangerous by now.”

  “Kave, could you find out where whoever sealed the message is?” Komena asked.

  “I can try, but it’s a lot with very little.” Kave said, before incanting over the Dean’s letter. After a moment, both the seal and his eyes pulsed with magic.

  “Below us. Below the entrance. There are a few basements, and he’s skulking in the deepest one.” He snarled; his head tilted like a hound’s. Then he straightened back up, jaw clenched shut, confusion in his eyes.

  Jaziret cleared her throat. “Yes, that is the Dean’s office. Of course, I’m going to insist that you don’t go down there. But if there’s anything else I could do for you.”

  “No, this will be enough for now. We’re already working with less verified alibis. If your dean asks how this went tell him that we may be back to verify somethings. I’ll expect him to speak with us if it comes to that.” Komena said.

  “Oh, that won’t happen.” The necromancer said.

  “His insistence on silence doesn’t matter. We’ll need to hear from him if we get desperate enough to come back.” Kave said.

  “Oh, that’s not I meant. Well, he won’t speak to you unless he wants to, but he won’t ask. Do you think someone who knows this much about city affairs without leaving their office, doesn’t know what happens in their own tower?”