Page 70 of Mistress of Bones
“And in return for this invitation, what is it that you expect of me?”
Such easy acquiescence. He was playing with her. What did the emissary know that she didn’t?
“I wish for your goodwill,” she said. “For us to truly work together instead of this thing we do now where you call for me and I rebel, and then you drop me into the toy box until the next time you are in need. You know what I seek, and you are so sure you will stop mefrom achieving it. You probably wish to send me away in a cage but you can’t risk it—you might need my ability to seek the necromancer’s victims. And so, we remain at a standstill. I won’t go back on my word, and you promised you won’t hurt my siblings. Working together will stop me from raising my sister. Isn’t that what you want? Unless, of course, you are worried two necromancers might be too much for a single emissary.”
A contemplative silence followed.
“How many people have you raised?” Enjul finally asked.
“Why did you become an emissary?” she countered.
They stared at each other.
He smiled faintly. “It wasn’t a choice. I was born a servant of the Lord Death.”
“Isadora and Sirese Zenjiel are the only people I’ve brought back. If you were born what you are, how does it make you different from me?”
“And before them, animals?” He paused, then narrowed his eyes as he considered her question. “Don’t pretend to liken your sort to me. I do not assume to know better than the god; he is my guide in life, for my life is his.”
“A few animals, yes. Isn’t it disappointing being unable to do as one wishes, always following someone else’s orders?”
“Does stealing someone from the Lord Death come with ease?” He looked at the plate of food, wrinkled his nose at the cheese, and chose a rolled slice of ham. “I know no other way of life, so I am unable to compare. I am not a mere puppet, Miss Del Arroyo, I have thoughts and a will of my own, and I am glad to have the Lord Death inside me to be a guide, a comfort in life. Looking at those around me, I find myself glad to have a goal, to have strong enough character to see it through.”
Azul decided to be truthful to his first question. “Animals come with ease. A person, no. You and I are more similar than you want to admit. I have my own goals, as you know. Would you say I don’t fight to see them through?”
“A person doesn’t come with ease, you say, and yet this othernecromancer has raised three people that we know of, and who knows how many else.”
“Their gift might be different from mine. It might come more naturally to them. I see you refuse to acknowledge my question.”
“More powerful than you, with lesser conscience.”
Azul was surprised at the defense of her morals, even if annoyed at the mention of the disparity between her and the other necromancer’s power. “I’m not interested in power.” She studied Enjul. “This other necromancer scares you more than I do, don’t they?” His mouth tightened, and she waved her hand impatiently. “Yes, yes, the Emissary of the Lord Death is scared of no one. But all this use of otherworldly gifts… If there are two of us, there could be more. The possibility unsettles you.”
His fists clenched on the table. “Of course it does.”
“Has it occurred to you that these gifts are the gods’ will?”
Enjul stared at her as if her brain had escaped her head.
She lowered her gaze and then her voice. “If we—people—are a product of the gods, wouldn’t our gifts be too?”
“If that were so,” Enjul answered, “your sister would still be on her feet. Your gift might appear god-given at first glance, but the god clearly refused it.”
“But the Lord Death is not the only god.”
“He is the only one who deals with death.”
Azul flinched. His words had been cold, and held all the truth.
“Is being chosen by the god the only way to join the Order?” she asked in a subdued tone. “Does… does he talk to you, in your head? Tell you what to do? Or is he a shadow hovering over your shoulder, watching your every move?” She pointed at the man waiting nearby. “Like mine.”
Enjul let out a small snort. “The Lord Death guides my instincts. He has better things to do than to whisper in my ears all day long like some lazy fool. As for joining the Order, there are many ways and reasons to do so. Some join because they feel it’s a calling, some joinbecause it’s a job, many attempt to join in the hopes their misdeeds will be forgiven.”
“I’ll say,” she murmured, picking another chunk of cheese. She had seen them, too, people in their old age who saw the end coming and wished to atone before meeting their gods. “And those like you?”
“We, the emissaries, were born with the blessing of the god inside us.”
Azul wanted to ask again how that differed from her, but was unwilling to break this unexpected sense of camaraderie growing between them. The sudden ease of sitting opposite each other without the urge to cross swords. He was an imposing man, his total focus on her intense. And yet…
