"He was a necromancer!" Bera hissed. They were in Kanick's room at the Black Crown. Bera paced around the bed, while Kanick sat at the desk.

"And why do you think that?" Kanick said absently.

Bera stopped pacing and looked incredulously at his master. "He brought that woman back from the dead," he replied. "Have you lost your mind?"

Kanick banged his gloved hands on the wooden desk and rose to confront the boy in one swift movement. Pain shot up his arm as he did so, but the sight of Bera recoiling away allowed him to ignore it.

"Have you?" He yelled. "Asking a man to look up his wife's skirt!" Bera looked as though he was going to say something. "This isn't the order anymore, where you can do what you please! And I thought I'd at least taught you to be less rude! We were guests."

"You can't cope with the fact that your friend turned to necromancy," Bera shot back. "This city rose up for Palregon," the boy reminded him. "And they don't give a consigned shit either that they had a necromancer living among them, so long as they can fulfil whatever stupid desire occupies their small minds! You heard him; he didn't care what happened so long as he got his wife back."

"Regius wasn't a necromancer," Kanick repeated, exasperated. "Did you not hear how Marin held a void-damned conversation, that she could string two pissing words together?" Bera looked confused, and Kanick pressed his advantage, malice like poison in his voice. "Or that she didn't stink like a consigned corpse? No? What kind of necromancer heals a body before they use it?" Kanick could feel his face reddening. "You've never seen a Necromancer's work so don't presume to lecture me on it."

"Oh, here we go, the consigned war." Bera replied acidly. "Well, sorry for not being born in time to fight!"

"This isn't about the war-"

"This whole thing's about that consigned war!" Bera yelled, his voice breaking slightly. "You, Regius, The Sons – it's all about the war! If your friend had been strong enough to handle the aftermath, none of this would have happened!"

"Leave," Kanick said, his voice flat.

"What?" There was real fear in Bera's voice now.

"Leave, now." Kanick repeated. Bera shot him a look and stormed out of the room, leaving Kanick to his thoughts.

Whatever had happened to Marin, it was unlike any kind of necromancy that Kanick had encountered before. The runes involved in preserving a body and giving it an animating spirit often rendered both body and mind stripped of essential characteristics. It was beyond the power of even the greatest necromancers to restore a spirit whole and healthy to a body.

Not to mention, the marks required. Jarron and Marin had both being emphatic that the healing had left no scars at all. In order to raise a body, or use a spirit, marks had to be carved into the flesh, one at the point of death to preserve a spirit and one during re-animation. If a necromantic rune was defaced – and Marin insisted she had no scars – the spell would cease to function.

Whatever had happened, it was not necromancy.

Kanick was woken the next morning by a knocking on his door. "Come in," he yelled lazily from the bed. The sun had only just dawned, as far as Kanick could tell from under the thick, heavy curtains. "Unless you're my apprentice," he added.

It was Lem, who stood in the doorway sheepishly. "We've had a soldier come to the inn," he announced. "Said the Governor wanted to speak to you, about a boy."

Kanick thanked him and got dressed. Opening the curtains, he saw it was later than he thought, just overcast, but still early. He passed Bera's door on his way to the stairs but decided to let his apprentice sleep off the previous night. I should have handled that better, Kanick chided himself.

Arriving at the Keep, Kanick was greeted by a Captain of the garrison, wearing a surcoat bearing a black crown over a mail hauberk, though his long blue cloak distinguished him from the rank and file soldiery. He introduced himself as Captain Serveran.

"We found the tanner's boy, and had him bought here," Severan explained as they walked through the halls of the keep.

"Do his parents not mind?" Kanick asked. The last thing he wanted was people thinking the Order had stolen a child.

"He doesn't have any," Serveran replied. "Lives in a workhouse owned by the tannery."

Governor deLan was waiting with the boy in a small office. He looked about twelve years old, a mop of greasy blonde hair perched above his head. deLan had brought some bread from the kitchens and he was happily picking chunks out of it.

"My name is Kanick," he introduced himself to the boy.

"Name's Tred." The boy said quietly. "Am I in trouble?" Kanick saw just how frightened he was, realising that Tred, rather than eating, had simply shredded the loaf in front of him.

"Not at all," Kanick replied, reassuringly in the voice he used on his younger students. "I have some questions about the cave."

To his momentary surprise, Tred started to cry. "I didn't do it, I swear on the gods," he wept.

"I know," Kanick said. "I don't think you did it, I promise, but I would like to know what you saw."

In fits and starts the boy started to tell his story. He had been climbing on the rocks below the cliff, skiving from work, and had slipped onto his ankle. Panicked, and fearing going back to his masters in the town, he had remembered the warnings about the mage in the cave. It seemed he was more frightened of the tannery and he walked the steep path to the mage's cave.

"I knocked on the door, and no one answered." He wiped his nose. "I usually wouldn't just go in, but... my leg." The boy looked pale faced from deLan to Kanick. "It was all black and ash inside," he finished his story.

Kanick sighed. There had been nothing new in the tale, it was as everyone had said. A burned-out cave.

"What did you see?" Kanick asked.

"It was difficult," the boy replied, snuffling. "Everything was black, but..." The boy sobbed for a moment before continuing in a strained voice. "There was a man in there... only he didn't look like a man – all black and twisted... his head was," Tred shivered "lying on the floor next to him." There was a pause. "I ran, and I ran, back to town as quick as I could to tell the guards."

"You didn't tell us this!" deLan thundered and the boy started to breathe heavily.

"It's okay," Kanick soothed, placing a hand on Tred's trembling shoulder. "Thank you for telling us this," the mage said, while his insides slithered and coiled in his guts.

"Useful?" The Governor asked once Tred had calmed down and been led off by a guard.

"It confirms Regius was murdered," Kanick replied solemnly. "I will have to go an explore the cave myself for any new clues as to what may have happened."

"Did the magister not have it examined?"

"No, they recovered the body and left it, as far as I'm aware." Kanick said. "The magister never mentioned decapitation though"

"Very strange," the Governor leaned against the exposed stone wall. "I offered the enclave men to have the cave searched, but the magister declined, or rather his acolyte did, saying the matter was in hand."

"That seems par the course for this magister, I'm afraid," Kanick said, relieved that he didn't have to be respectful of other mages now that Bera wasn't there.

deLan was looking at him strangely. "I will have to introduce you to my court-mage, sometime."

"Are they still a court mage if there's no court?" Kanick quipped.

"Ha, that is true. Magical advisor, then," smiled deLan. "But still, he has some tales to tell."

Kanick left the keep into the pre-noon sunshine. At least the weather improved, he thought as he walked back towards the Black Crown.

The light of the day was dimmed in the shadowy corners of the dark walls of the Black Crown's common room. It was quieter during the daytime, with no band, nor rowdy patrons. Two men, possibly merchants occupied seats by the fire, while a young boy with brown hair and a serious expression on his face sat at a table, stooped over a loaf of bread and soup. The room's only other occupant was sat in one of the high-backed chairs, a small round table in front of him. His long, tanned face was in a book.

Kanick ordered two tankards of ale from the bar and took them over, trying not to spill them over the lad staring at the soup. He carefully set one in front of his apprentice and planted himself in the seat opposite.

"Is that a new one?" Kanick asked, feeling slightly sheepish.

Bera folded the book closed and placed it on the table. "It's a guide on Blood Runes," he finished shortly. Kanick let the silence sit between them. With reluctance in his voice, Bera continued. "No examples, of course; it's the only book on the topic that the enclave will let out."

"I'd wager," Kanick said agreeably. "Very dangerous, carving runes into a person. Like I tell my pupils, magic is corrosive and energetic by its nature and always destroys its vessel. The practice is generally frowned upon, associated with necromancers and forbidden magics." Kanick took a sip of his beer as he added, "and healing."

"Healing magic cannot raise someone from the dead!" Bera started, leaning forward. Heads turned.

"I'm not here to argue the point." Said Kanick, raising his hands in surrender There was another silence as they drank some ale. "But you're right. Healing magic helps the body heal itself, it can't regrow what's not there." He thought back to his last class, the boy Calgetorix's question about re-growing limbs. "My hands are an example of its limits."

"But," Bera continued, "this book says that necromancers need two marks. One of the runes copies or... preserves, the essence of a person, while a second mark is needed to create a host for that essence." Kanick nodded. "That process of copying, or whatever it is, is imperfect."

"Yes," Kanick continued nodding. "Even for the most powerful, most complete of the dead, the process is corrupting."

"So, how is it possible?" Bera asked.

"I don't know, but I hope to find some answers in Regius' cave," Kanick then proceeded to explain what the boy Tred had said.

"So you think it is a murder," Bera said, when Kanick had shared his conclusions. "I'm sorry."

"It sounds like it," Kanick admitted sadly. "I have questions for the Magister, and we need to examine the cave." Kanick shifted his weight. The chairs, while backed in fine material, were not as comfortable as they looked. "I want to set off first thing tomorrow morning." There was a scrape of wood on stone as the boy with the soup got up to leave, briefly distracting the conversation. "So, you visited the Enclave?" Kanick asked.

"After our fight, yesterday, I thought... you raised a good point, so I wanted to learn more about necromancy."

"That is admirable," Kanick told him. "And I assume they were horrified?"

Bera laughed. "The Librarian threatened to report me to the Magister. Luckily, one of the magister's acolytes was nearby and said he would stand witness for me. Even then, the Librarian would only let me take this one."

They discussed the book, and the strangeness of the Woodbend Enclave until the late evening, with Bera revealing that the acolytes preferred to stay in Woodbend, rather than take up apprenticeships.

"He told me he could learn so much more here than as an apprentice," Bera said, talking about the acolyte who stood for him against the Librarian.

Shortly after their evening meal, Kanick announced he would go and visit the enclave. How the Magister had not seen fit to mention the apparent decapitation of Regius was beyond Kanick and he was determined to hear the reasons.

The Magister's antechamber was empty, the desk vacant. Kanick had a tentative arm raised to knock when he heard the clunk of the latch on the otherside and the door swung open.

He was face to face with the Mage's acolyte, pale faced and with a worried expression on his face. The boy mumbled an apology and, looking at the stone floor, fled the scene.

"Master Kanick?" The Magister called from within. The room was stuffy and warm, so Kanick savoured his last breaths of fresher air before entering. "Do you have news from your investigation?"

"I spoke to the Tanner's apprentice, who discovered the cave," Kanick began. "He told me the body had been decapitated."

"Ah, and you're wondering why I failed to mention this?" Edian asked, pre-emptively. Kanick nodded, trying to keep his expression neutral. "We noted that the head had been lost, but we believe it was caused by the fire. Naturally, I didn't think it was worth reporting."

"I've done you the courtesy of keeping to your request, meeting at night," Kanick began. "Now I have a request of my own. I was appointed to investigate this death, and so I will decide what is and isn't worth reporting, if you please." Edian's eyes hardened, and Kanick felt momentarily nervous. The magister's smile, by contrast never faltered. "Your healer should have kept notes on the examination, and I would like to see them."

"Very well, I will have them sent over," Edian replied, his voice sickly sweet. "I notice your apprentice requested a book from our library, I must admit it raised an eyebrow here. I understand that it's for learning purposes, but you both must be careful, rumours of necromancy are sadly proving deadly."

"Thank you for your concern, Magister," Kanick said as he got up to leave.