Chapter 12: Grave Watcher

Lilith had literally begged Mhenlo to let her back into the catacombs. He had actually agreed without even bothering to ask why, until Lilith told him that she would need healing when she got out. Again. That made him more reluctant. Mhenlo was uninterested in sycophancy (a fortunately very common trait at the Abbey), but he was either persuaded or irritated into promising to heal her again when she mentioned that she would intended to pacify the spirits of the dead. Paulus had set out into the village with her to catch the thief sometime ago, and Munne popped up to the surface to use a fingerbone from the corpse of the robbed to identify the one who'd stolen from them.

After finding him, they discussed for a while who else they should sacrifice to the spirits to placate them, and almost immediately decided that it should be a slave (being that they were by far the most expendable of the population), and were discussing particulars when Lilith entered to offer Munne a glass of wine, complements of the Abbot. Seeing as how half the monks had taken vows of sobriety, they tended to have more wine than they strictly needed.

Lilith's timing couldn't have been worse. Munne and Paulus were discussing where they might acquire a slave to sacrifice, when Munne had turned around to Lilith and said “you! Come here.” Lilith had sucked in a deep breath and stepped toward Munne, head bowed, but determined not to go to her death begging. She might have lived a pathetic enough life the past year, but the odds of persuading Munne one way or another seemed slim enough that she decided to at least face her death with some dignity.

“Will it be quick, miss?” she had asked.

“What?” Munne said.

“I only mean that I didn't do anything wrong,” Lilith explained, “it's just that it has to be someone, right?”

“Thorn above, girl, we're not going to sacrifice you,” Munne had said, and Lilith wasn't sure if she was more embarrassed or relieved. As it happened, Munne just wanted her to take the fingerbone back down to the altar Munne had retrieved it from, which mercifully was the altar above the plague waters. Munne didn't need to care, being that she had studied pestilence long enough to render herself immune to it (when she asked Paulus why they didn't send her to retrieve the urn, he said “because then we'd owe her a favor and be sent to risk our lives down below anyway,” not that they hadn't ended up owing her a favor anyway), but the safe altar also happened to be closer than the others.

And now she was running through the catacombs again, her corporeal form drawing little attention from the spirits, but plague spreading slowly through her veins. When she arrived, she knelt down in front of the fourth altar and lit nineteen candles before it. She had read in the Abbey's archives that there were nineteen buried here. “I light a candle in remembrance of Kirian de Miles,” she said, lighting the first one, “who fought the Orrians at Wizard's Folly and was crushed by avalanche, that his wife and children might live in peace.” And then another. “I light a candle in remembrance of Mira de Ferrum, who fought Deldrimor at Borlis Pass on behalf of King Jalis Ironhammer, whose son outlived her and became barrister for the noble house de Medice.” She lit the third candle, and could feel the plague creeping through her, body numbing, then growing hyper-sensitive. “I light a candle in remembrance of Julian de Figulus, who gave his life fighting the Krytan fleets in the Sea of Sorrows, leaving behind a fiancee who was devastated by his loss, and cared for by his younger brother to this day.”

She lit candles for all nineteen of them. When she had finished, she said “I won't forget you. You were the smallest and the weakest, and you fought on anyway, knowing you probably wouldn't make it back. And you didn't. You deserve more honor than any other soldier buried here. I just...” she sucked in a deep breath. The plague was taking hold. She needed to run. “I just hope you believe me. I hope you rest easier knowing that someone remembers what you've done, and is grateful for it.” She staggered to her feet. She was already stumbling. There was no way she would make it back to the surface now, she knew, so she slumped to her knees again.

If she were extremely lucky, someone might come looking for her in the two hours it would take for the plague to go from incapacitating her to killing her. Paulus and Munne hadn't even considered sacrificing her to appease the spirits even though she was by far the most readily available slave. Maybe they cared enough to come looking for her. But she knew that was a long shot. There was an enormous gap between not wanting to kill a useful servant when you can commandeer a useless yes-man, and being willing to go out hunting for that servant when she ran off to do something stupid.

Lilith's lips were growing pale, were trembling. “I hope I'm enough,” she said, “I don't think I'll have a chance...To come back.” There was a dry spot ahead, where the shaft of sunlight fell upon the mural. She crawled towards it, her vision growing hazy. If she could get there, at least she would die of the plague instead of drowning. By the time she reached that dry spot, she hardly had the strength left to crawl, even, and collapsed there, curling up into a ball and waiting for the end. Maybe the ghosts she had come to honor would let her haunt their altar with them. Maybe they would be as kind owners to her as the Abbey had been.

Consciousness was fading fast, but the pain kept her awake. The terrible heat in her stomach, and of course, the pendant digging into her always. Not an hour went by that it didn't somehow remind her that it was there. But not for much longer. She could feel the boney arms of death around her, and a long tunnel with a light at the end, and the heat inside her stomach was agonizing. She extended a hand toward the light. No one was coming for her. She wanted it to be over. She was vomiting, still, over herself, onto the ground, and out into the light.

She couldn't see or feel anything distinct for minutes that seemed like hours, and then she was staring up at Mhenlo's face. "Wh-what happened?" she asked, looking around. She was in the infirmary. How the Hell had she gotten here? Or was this the afterlife? Hell of a prank to make the entrance to the afterlife be the place you'd expect to wake up if you didn't die, but then she was a Lunatic and was possibly waking up in Lunatic heaven.

"I might ask you the same thing," Mhenlo said, "when you told me you were going to the catacombs to pacify spirits, I imagined you might be running an errand for Munne. I did not expect a reanimated skeleton to carry you half-dead into my infirmary and then drag me in to heal you."

"What?" Lilith said.

"Did I stutter?" Mhenlo said.

"No, uh, no, sir, I just...I wasn't exactly planning on that either," Lilith said.

The doors swung open and Munne entered. "Necromancer Munne," Mhenlo said, "perhaps you can explain what's going on here."

"Certainly someone had better be able to," Munne said, "the spirits in the Sect War corridor are at war."

Lilith's eyes widened with fear. "Miss Munne, I swear, all I wanted to do was give those spirits at the fourth altar some peace, if I had any idea that it would end like this-"

"What did you do?" Munne asked.

"I just...I lit candles for them," Lilith said, "and said they would be remembered, and then I was sick and I thought I was going to die, and that's the last thing I really remember for sure."

"I should go mediate," Munne said, and began walking towards the exit.

"Miss Munne, wait, please," Lilith said, getting up from her bed and following her. "I know I've only made things worse, but please, let me help fix this, I promise I'll only do exactly as you say, like when I contacted the spirits for you to tell you what they want. I've been helpful in the past, I could be-"

"Girl, do you know what you've done?" Munne asked, spinning around to glare at Lilith.

"Not really, no," Lilith said, "but I swear I won't stick a toe out of-"

"You gave us a sympathetic party in a wing of the catacombs that had recently turned quite hostile to the living," Munne said, "you turned a unified coalition of the dead into a delicate balance of power that we can manipulate, and you did it on a shoestring budget. It's what I would've done if I had the time to look them up in the archives, so for gods' sake stop apologizing and find something useful to do."

Lilith stopped in shock and gaped while Munne spun around and strode out towards the catacombs. Slowly a smile spread over her face. Mhenlo walked up beside her, setting a bucket and brush at her feet. "A rotting corpse tracking plague water has just been all over the main hall and infirmary wing," he said, "give it an extremely good scrub and come see me whenever you feel your organs start to liquefy."

"Y-yes, sir," Lilith said, gathering up the bucket and heading out towards the Abbey's well to fill it.