The Nekromancer - 88. Chapter 88

It amazed Jakun how people could get used to anything. His arm had been missing for only a week and already the amurrun had found sleeping on his back helped him sleep better, without pushing any weight on the missing appendage.

He couldn’t wait to regain his arm. It would take time; they needed to get to Absalom before Amnor Sen would help him end this body. For the past day, Jakun had been searching for ways to cross the ocean, but he couldn’t figure out a good way to cross the water. After his struggles with Ivris, it would be almost trivial to take a memory from a sailor who had been to Absalom and use the memory to teleport, but Jakun knew Amnor Sen would take offence to that even if the sailor was paid for his service.

Jeremy was working on the problem too, in his own way. The cleric was sitting in a tavern somewhere in the city proper, waiting for inspiration to strike him. Jakun had his doubts that would work, but then he had seen the human work some pretty big spells.

The amurrun looked around the shore tavern he was currently lurking in. Sailors in various states of inebriation crowded the room, filling the air with tall tales and body odour. He could just touch a few and be done, the spell not taking much effort. The way Mythara made it sound, they wouldn’t even notice him stealing the memory for his own use. And what did Amnor Sen know? For all the paladin could tell, Jakun could have been spending the day trying to see ten feet through a scrying sensor and gotten lucky.

Or he could go the long way, try to find a bird to scry in Absalom and jump off of that brief glimpse. It would run into the same problem of scry length though, namely that he would not be able to see anything ten feet away. And he couldn’t even pull the memory of the city layout from the bird without touching it.

A phantom steed would work, if they could find a way for Zephyr to keep up with the mounts over the water. But Jakun really had no idea how to manage that one, and there was no way he would ask Amnor Sen to part with his horse.

‘What do you think-’

He stopped himself, taking a shaky breath through dead lungs. How long would it be before he stopped seeking her advice, listening for her voice?

“Fuck this…”

Standing up, the lich left the tavern, heading back to Sothis. His feet took him to a library, papyrus scrolls filling the walls as dual masked clerics roamed the rooms within. A temple to Nethys, the god of duality and magic. He would have a better chance of getting ideas here. And a possible way of buying the cursed water he needed for the Daywalker spell.

A priest approached, face hidden and body trembling in Jakun’s presence. The lich tried to tone down his unnatural aura, but it seemed a part of his curse, to unnerve those who looked upon him. At least Jakun had tried to make himself look more alive, sculpting what was left of his flesh to cover his body more fully. He had decomposed remarkably fast, and the lich hoped his next body would have more meat on it for him to preserve. Knowing his luck, it would probably be a bag of fur and bones.

“You carry strong magic on you,” she said. “Undeath and life in equal strength.”

Motioning to the amulet still around the catfolk’s neck, she took a step back from the mage.

“What knowledge can we trade in? You have power but know not how to use it. We have knowledge, but lack the power. Nethys craves the balance and imbalance. Do you seek the middle ground?”

“I seek someone with knowledge of Absalom. I can trade scrolls for the knowledge given,” Jakun offered.

“And the knowledge of your power over undeath?”

Jakun shook his head firmly.

“I do not give that knowledge for a pittance,” the amurrun said. “There is a fortress in Nex with the knowledge, if you have the secrets to trade. What I seek is far simpler; merely one who wouldn’t mind sharing a memory. If you have it, I would also like to purchase a flask of cursed water from one of the clerics.”

“But of course. The flasks are twenty five gold apiece. And we have a supplicant who has been to the City at the Center of the World. You may ask him for the information you seek.”

Jakun followed the priest through the library, grateful he had thought ahead to grab the bag of holding in one of Sadira’s treasure rooms. They walked toward a storeroom that radiated negative energy. His body felt healthier the closer he got to the storeroom and the lich glanced at his arm, almost expecting to see it grow back. To his mild sorrow, the stump remained the way it was.

“You wouldn’t know how to reattach an arm by any chance, would you?”

“To a living person, we have someone who could do it easily. For someone with your afflictions, it would be impossible,” the priest replied.

“Yeah, that’s what I figured,” Jakun sighed. “I’ll take four flasks of the water. I can ration it well enough, I think. The scrolls I have are in Draconic.”

“That should not be a problem. Many of us speak the language of magic like our native Osirioni.”

Pulling a platinum coin out of his bag, Jakun handed it to the woman, waiting as she examined the coin closely. Apparently satisfied, the priest opened the storeroom, handing over four flasks that Jakun stuffed into his bag one by one. It was a lot easier to do with two hands, but he managed with the one, slinging the bag back over his shoulder.

“Now, if I may see the one with the memories.”