Would you like to live with your soul in the grave? -- Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights

Abihira's first successful necromancy (necromancing? She needed to find a good word for it) happened completely by accident. It was on her first visit to a different planet since her return home. For once she was visiting someone of her own volition, instead of ticking names off a list her parents gave her.

She hadn't seen Kitritúr Nenimyssvóeln for over four hundred years. Her old friend had inherited lands here, on the planet Muirus 9436, half-way across the galaxy from Vanerth[1]. Abihira had only visited Muirus 9436 once before. Her impression of the place was that it was tiny, unimportant, and its code numbers were a blasted nuisance to remember. Unfortunately they were necessary. Leave them off entirely and she might end up getting on a spaceship for a completely different part of the galaxy. Forget some of the numbers and she'd find herself sent to one of its moons.

She knew better than to try a transportation spell. They were rarely reliable at the best of times. Attempt to travel thousands of light-years by one, and she'd end up in a black hole or somewhere equally undesirable. So there was nothing for it but to pack some clothes and set off for the spaceport.

Irímé had arrived the day before. For the next week at least he would be dragged into the middle of endless wedding preparations, and it was useless to even think of trying to talk to him yet. Since she had nothing better to do, and would go stark raving mad if forced to look at another menu or list of decorations, now was the perfect time to go visiting.

The spaceship covered the distance between the two planets in less than a day. Abihira watched Muirus 9436 grow steadily larger through the windows. An idea began to form in the back of her mind as they entered its atmosphere. It took on form as they landed in the spaceport. By the time she picked up her suitcase and walked off the ship, it was almost definite.

Kitritúr had once helped her in several of her experiments with not-dark-but-not-exactly-light magic. She had volunteered to be turned into a frog, been put under mind-control (that failed miserably, since she did the exact opposite of what the spell told her to), helped steal bone fragments from the royal physician's stores, and generally done things that would leave normal people worrying about her sanity. Who better to help Abihira with necromancy?

As soon as she entered the main spaceport she found Kitritúr herself waiting. At first she didn't recognise her. Gone were the long flowing outer robes of the Saoridhians. Instead Kitritúr wore the brocade skirt, tunic, and capelet commonly worn on Muirus 9436. Abihira blinked and did a double take.

Her surprise must have shown, because Kitritúr burst out laughing. "Your face! You look like you've seen a ghost!"

What an astonishingly appropriate remark, considering what Abihira was thinking about.

Kitri abruptly stopped laughing. She took a step forward and stared very hard at Abihira. She was so much shorter than her old friend that she had to crane her head back to look her in the face, and Abihira had to look down at such a sharp angle that her chin was almost touching her collarbone. Abihira took a step back to spare both of them a sore neck.

"You're planning something, aren't you." Kitri sounded simultaneously curious and apprehensive.

"Perhaps," Abihira agreed.

There was a short silence. Well, as much silence as was ever possible in a busy spaceport. Kitri's face went through a series of complicated emotions, beginning and ending with reluctant resignation.

"Please tell me you won't turn me into a frog again."

Abihira laughed. "Don't worry. There are no frogs involved. At all."

"I don't believe you!" Kitri's voice was a piercing wail.

Abihira shrugged. "You said no frogs. Well, there are none."

"But necromancy! Are you serious? Necromancy!" On the final word she reached a note normally reserved for opera singers and air raid sirens.

In spite of her objections she accompanied Abihira to the nearest graveyard. But she complained the whole way.

Three hours, an empty marketplace and a zombie apocalypse later, Kitri had only one thing to say.

"I told you so!"

"It seems," Abihira began, with the air of someone imparting pearls of rare wisdom, "that we have a slight problem."

Kitri scowled at her over her fourth glass of adakler[2]. It was ironically a relief that the walking dead had frightened away everyone in the public house. Neither of them had brought any money with them, and Kitri desperately needed a drink.

She'd point-blank refused to allow Abi anywhere near the bar. The last thing they needed was a drunk necromancer.

"Have you just realised that now?" Kitri asked, voice full of sarcasm mingled with abject misery.

Abi, who was becoming a strong competitor for the title of "world's worst friend", pretended not to hear her.

"It was easy enough to wake them up," she said. "It should be easy enough to put them back to sleep. But if I do it here their bodies will fill the whole town."

A walking corpse shambled into the pub. It walked right into a table. Instead of moving around the table, it continued trying to walk in a straight line. Again and again it collided with the table. Kitri shook her head as she watched.

"Your creations haven't the sense the gods gave to ducks," she grumbled. She reached over the bar and filled her glass again.

Abi shrugged. "I suppose decomposition isn't good for their brains. We'll have to herd them back to the graveyard."

"You will," Kitri corrected her. "This whole sorry mess is all your fault. I'll have nothing more to do with it."

In the background the unfortunate corpse was still fighting with the table. Kitri had never seen such a one-sided battle in her life. Abi finally took pity on it. She got up, took its partially-decayed arm, and turned it round so it faced the door. It shambled out again to rejoin its friends.

"I can't just tell them where to go," Abi said thoughtfully. "Look at them; I don't think any are able to see or hear very well. So I'll have to lead them back in person."

Kitri snorted. "The ghost and the catacomb of ancient days[3], then. But with corpses instead of politicians. A fine sight you'll look, with the walking dead following you like ducklings!"

Leave it to Abihira to take her literally.

It took a long time for the people who lived in the town to risk coming back to the marketplace. They only dared go when armed and backed up by the full police force. When they arrived they found the place in general disarray and smelling strongly of rotting meat. But there wasn't a single corpse to be seen.

For years afterwards a puzzling rumour persisted. No one ever knew where it came from. No one knew anyone who could confirm it. Still it lingered like an unquiet spirit.

Someone had come to the marketplace that day, it said. Someone walked among the corpses and wasn't afraid of them. Someone called them to follow, and they obediently fell in line.

A new rumour started that day. A rumour of horrors long forgotten and nightmares abroad in the light of day.

There is a necromancer in the kingdom, it said. They flout the natural order for their own selfish gain. Beware!

An outbreak of undeath was not the sort of thing that could escape notice. It was practically calculated to draw widespread attention and create endless talk. When Abihira returned from her eventful visit she found the news had even reached Eldrin.

"It's extraordinary," Hartanna said at dinnertime. Abihira, Arafaren, Irímé, and Irímé's mother were the only other people present. Mihasrin was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he had reached the limit of how much he could tolerate his wife's company -- or vice versa. "Muirus 9436 is the last place you would ever expect a necromancer. Why, Abi-shol[4] was there when it happened! She might have been in danger and we'd never have known!"

Abihira froze. Even without looking up from her plate she felt Arafaren staring at her from his place beside Irímé. If anyone would put two and two together, it was the planet's worst prankster who already had reason to associate her with ghosts.

Curse you, Mirio! she thought, viciously stabbing her fork into a slice of carrot that had done nothing to deserve the treatment. Why did you send him that letter?

The conversation moved on to less dangerous topics. Well, slightly less dangerous. Irímé's mother talked everyone's ears off about her plan to capture a sea serpent. Abi thought of Mirio again, and of Kiriyuki. They would have been very offended by the idea of anyone catching a sea serpent.

Her thoughts moved back to Seroyawa in general. This evening's dinner was perfectly normal venison steak and vegetables. Looked at objectively there was nothing wrong with it. Yet suddenly she felt a strong longing for hayumari[5] or nekewo[6]. For the first time it sank in that she would never live in Seroyawa again. She'd never make necklaces out of seashells with Kiriyuki again, or lose a dozen games of kinin[7] to Mirio. Her eyes began to prickle ominously.

Abihira attacked her steak with renewed violence. She was not going to start crying at the dinner table. Especially not in front of her future husband. She'd never live it down.

At last she thought it was safe to look up. She glanced at Arafaren, pleased to see he was preoccupied with his dinner, then looked at Irímé. He was gazing right at her with a mildly puzzled expression. The light from the gas lamps caught on the blue opals in his hair, making his already pale skin even paler in comparison. His eyes seemed unnaturally large and almost white.

Abi had looked at corpses, ghosts, ghouls, and all manner of frightening things. Irímé's face in that moment struck her more forcibly than any of them ever had.

"Is something wrong?" Irímé asked quietly. "You look shaken."

Thank goodness he didn't say I look like I've seen a ghost, Abi thought, barely suppressing a fit of most unsuitable giggles. "Don't worry, my eyes were just playing tricks on me. How did the wedding preparations go?"

Irímé shuddered. "Please don't mention them."

"That bad?" She gave a smile of commiseration. "Cheer up. Sooner or later they'll forget about it and start thinking about the festival instead."

Judging by the look on his face, Irímé did not find this reassuring.

News of the zombie apocalypse had also reached Seroyawa. Kiriyuki heard it from her ladies-in-waiting. Mirio heard it from the court officials. Both of them immediately came to the same conclusion.

They met in Mirio's palace as soon as the court's business was finished for the day. A glance at both their dismayed faces and each knew the other had already heard.

"No need to ask who's responsible," Kiriyuki said with a groan. "Why didn't we stop her?"

"I tried." Mirio sat down at the table with none of his usual poise and grace. "I wrote to her brother. I thought he'd stop her from doing something so foolish."

Kiriyuki snorted. "How very helpful. You'd never be able to stop me; why should he be any different? We need a better plan. Somehow we have to save that little idiot from herself!"