“You’ve gone mad! You sound like… like a parent!”
And she flung open the door.
Light spilled over them.
A sea of faces. Cherubic faces, countless children of all ages.
All of whom cried out, “Inside, quick! Oh, shut the door!” More of a cacophony of voices, truth be told, but both Imid and Elas comprehended those two commands at the very least.
They stumbled into the domed chamber.
And the door was slammed shut behind them.
Children rushed forward upon seeing the swaddled baby. “Ooh! Another one! He? She? Is it well? Not sick yet, oh blessed Lady, not yet sick!”
Imid recoiled slightly at the upward grasping hands. “Get away, you horrid creatures! Sick? No one’s sick! No one, I tell you!”
“What,” Elas Sil demanded, “are you all doing here?”
“We are being well!”
“Well what?”
A slightly older girl stepped forward. “We’re being protected. From the outer world, that horrible, dirty, sickly place!”
“Sickly?” Elas repeated bemusedly. “What do you mean?”
“There are foul things out there-things that will make us sick. Animals, to make us sick! Flies, birds, bats, mice, rats, all diseased and waiting to make us sick! And people! Coughing, sniveling, wiping themselves everywhere! There are wayward fumes, emanating from anuses and worse. And wagons that might run us over, stairs we might fall down, walls we might walk into. You must join us, here, where it’s safe!”
“And healthy,” another piped up.
“What’s it like?” a third child asked.
Elas Sil blinked. “What is what like?”
“The world?”
“Stop that, Chimly!” the first girl scolded. “You know that curiosity is deadly!”
Someone in the crowd coughed.
Everyone swung round, and the first girl hissed, “Who did that?”
“Now!” Imid shouted. And, thankfully, Elas Sil understood. In unison they turned and scrabbled at the door latch.
Behind them: “Look! They’re getting away!”
Then the door was open, and the two saints with their charge fled out into the corridor.
“Get them!”
They ran.
King Necrotus the Nihile was seeing things from a new angle. Sideways, slightly upside-down. He had tried locomotion by wiggling his ears, but the effect had been meager. Clearly, his facial and scalp muscles weren’t designed to aid in the physical transportation of his head. That’s what the body normally attached to it did. It had been a pathetic conceit.
A large polished boot stepped into his view.
“Hello?” Necrotus called up.
The boot shifted, then the heel drew upwards and a hand settled on the king’s head, tilting it to one side. Necrotus found himself looking up at a crouching Bauchelain.
“Abyss averted!” the king sighed in relief. “I am so glad you found me. Can you see my body? It’s the one without any arms-and no head, naturally. It can’t have gone far… can it?”
Bauchelain collected Necrotus in both hands and straightened. There was something oddly disturbing about the necromancer’s expression as he studied the king.
“Am I speaking only in my head?” Necrotus asked. “Uh, as it were. I mean, can you hear me?”
“I can hear you fine, King Necrotus,” Bauchelain replied after a moment, angling the head this way and that.
“Just a little off the top?” the king asked in a half-snarl.
“I have,” Bauchelain said, “a glass case that would fit you nicely.”
“You wouldn’t!”
“Yes, a nice fit indeed. Well, this is a bonus, isn’t it?”
“That’s diabolical!”
“Why yes, thank you.”
Necrotus was tucked under Bauchelain’s left arm, affording him a jostling view of the street they now walked down. The king was furious, but there was little he could do about it. Oh, his kingdom for a body! “You’ll keep it wiped clean, won’t you?”
“Of course, King Necrotus,” Bauchelain replied. “Ah, I see the edges of a crowd. I believe we approach the Grand Temple.”
“And what are we going to do there?”
“Why, a grand unveiling to close this fell night.”
“It’s a tunnel of sorts,” Imid Factallo said.
“I can see that,” Elas Sil snapped.
“We’ve no choice. I can hear those terrifying little whelps.”
“I know I know! All right, I’ll lead, and close that panel behind us.”