“Hmm? Yes, excellent idea. And for yourself as well.”
“Thank you, Master.” Emancipor paused to light his pipe. “Ah, much better,” he said, blowing smoke. Cut short by a hacking cough, forcing him to launch a slimy ball of stuff into the fire, where it flared into strangely hued flames for a moment before sizzling in the more expected manner. Emancipor stuck the pipe back between his teeth and puffed merrily as he poured the wine.
A flutter of wings nearby announced the arrival of Korbal Broach. The crow hopped over to watch as Bauchelain set King Necrotus’s head inside the glass case, then placed the container on the buckboard. The king looked to be talking, but no sound issued forth, for which Emancipor was thankful.
The manservant rose and handed Bauchelain a cup. “A toast, Master?”
“A toast? Well, why not? Please, proceed, Mister Reese.”
Emancipor raised his cup. “The Healthy Dead!”
Bauchelain almost smiled. Almost, but not quite, which was about as much as Emancipor had expected. “Indeed,” the necromancer said, raising his own cup, “the Healthy Dead.”
In the glass case, King Necrotus smiled broadly, as the dead are wont to do.