Asking them was actually not that hard to do. Moving your spirit outside your body is possible as a Three, let alone a neo-Fourteen. I already had the conduit to the Haze, so there rely remained to establish a dium of communication that would not allow the Shroud to drag in.
Speak with Dead usually requires a corpse and mystic fires and all that. Happily, I had that just sitting myself down in a chair.
That was because the spirit which used to inhabit this body was in the Shroud, aning I had a direct link there anyti I just Cast the spell directly on myself.
I had not done so before, as I wasnt sure of the implications, and I didnt want to get in a wrestling match with a dead young woman over her body. It wouldnt even take her back now, as Id changed it too much, and its Matrix was fully fused to my soul.
She wasnt strong enough to try, anyway.
I definitely wasnt going to just throw a random call out into the Shroud, as most of the souls trapped therein were likely going to be alien, totally hostile, mad, deranged, or just plain an. All they wanted to do was get out of the thing, after all. They literally and probably had no other desire left.
The clearing I was in was already cold from the winter, but negative energy has a chill all its own as it manifests. Necromancy was not one of the brighter disciplines to learn, but Speaking with the Dead was not considered violating any strictures. Now, torturing the dead was, but if they chose to speak freely, that was fine, or if compelled to speak by a contest of wills, that was also considered totally fair.
The magic swirled, acting on latent harmony, and the echo of her spirit swirled into being in front of . Sure, I had to Cast the spell at V to do this, but that was a given.
The shadows of her face looked like mine, but not. I probably had succubi influence going on, but there was no doubt I held myself very different than she did, without the pain and trauma reflected on her. Her belly was still cut open, and my faint scar there burned with cold pain at her presence as she fixed hollow eyes on .
she said in French, which I had learned via Polyglot long ago. Idle intellectual accomplishnts, because I could.
I was perfectly aware not to expect any kind of sympathy from a trapped and tortured soul. It would take very little for her to start blaming for her entire situation, despite having nothing to do with it.
I would like to inform you that I have saved your son, and he is strong in magic, just like you. When he cos of age, his Bloodlines will be balanced, as yours should have been, and he will co into his power.
She stirred slightly, but caring for the living gets worked out of the dead rather quickly. They tend to be concerned about themselves... but still, deeds left unfinished are regrets carried, and despite her pain, I had just softened one of them.
she asked coolly, touching the ectoplasmic wound in her belly, flaring my own in sympathy.
Was she trying to shake ? I smiled despite myself, and focused past it. I require an interdiary to the souls of the Shroud, and deed you as the most suitable. If the rest of them dont like it, tough crap. Youre talking for them, Elrii Morningdark.
Her face stirred, spectral eyes lighting up as that simple acknowledgent of her na gave her power and status.
Are the souls in the Shroud capable of conferring Warlock Pacts? I asked her directly. One Question.
Her head jerked, as if listening to other voices I could not hear, her eyes darting this way and that before settling back on .
Lay out for the benefits and Masteries inherent in being a Shroudbound Warlock.
She went into that listening mode again, expressions fluttering across her face as her situation distracted her from the tornt of being trapped in the Shroud. The focus and awareness of the other dead was giving her power and recognition, no small thing for being a prisoner in the Shroud.
Least I could do for her, after all, which sent my thoughts careening down so other roads.
She began to speak quickly and precisely. Those behind her knew what they were dealing with, and jerking around would have been a bad idea. I was doing this for their benefit, and if they wanted to be a patsy, I would simply drop the idea and it would never see the light of day again.
There would always be people who wanted the power of a Warlock. The problem existed in that I was the one who would be looking over the Pact.
she finally told .
And if they instead tap into the Faith trapped under the Shield, including their own... I advised, careful to steer away from a Question which would count against the spell. We could chat as long as we liked if I didnt ask more Questions.
Her spectral eyes widened slightly, and she was silent and listening again.
she finally relayed.
Perhaps they would like so advice on how to set such a thing up, particularly to attract more Warlocks.
There was only a short pause.
I smiled slightly, and began to speak.
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Her spectral form was clearer, sharper now, focused by the attention of unseen multitudes. As I had made her the contact between the two of us, we could administer the Contract easily.
I inclined my head. Master Fred, would you be willing to be the first Shrouded Warlock?
Riding the starlight, Master Fred was next to in one step, and they went down in one knee. It would be our honor under Heaven to aid the souls in the Shroud to be free, their manifold voice promised together, Amazon blonde hair swirling behind them.
That statent established the primacy of Master Freds Heaven Pact. Regardless of the will of the souls of the Shroud, they could not make him violate the Will of Heaven.
As Heaven also wanted the Shrouded to be free, that wasnt an issue, although the souls and spirits of those Damned there probably did nothing but resent Heaven for not being able to free them.
Elrii Morningdark, now the Speaker for the Shroud, swirling with dark power that occluded her features, extended her hand to them. she half-sneered, prompting to raise my eyebrow.
Well, well, didnt soone get an attitude fast?
If you think that the tornts of the Shroud equal that of Hell, you are a fool, Master Fred replied with a grimly calm reverb that greatly impressed Elrii, judging by the way she drew back. The Shroud is rely a pleasant purgatory, an interval of mild irritation, for those souls that are going Down. It is tornt for the rest of you, who did not earn such a fate for yourselves.
They paused significantly, looking up to stare into the now ghostly-burning eyes of the Speaker of the Shroud. We are going Down. What is your fear, to us?
Elrii made a ghostly sigh of acknowledgent. She reached out and laid a spectral hand on Master Freds shoulder, and swirls of ghostly fire and dark mists gathered around, plunging into them and drawing a quiet exhalation that was all the indication of the soul-cutting pain of establishing this new kind of Pact.
Pale spectral flas rose up from the Branding of a new Pact and fluttered over their fingers before quietly dying away. I shall serve until you are free, they promised gravely, rising to their feet, bowing again, and then stepping back behind .
I would have liked to get this Pact myself, but they werent going to let , so I just shrugged. Not that building up a Pact wouldnt have taken a LOT of my Masteries...
Before you go, I said calmly, also rising to my feet. I extended my hand towards her, and she paused a mont before reaching out in return, and t my hand with an energy-draining, soul-chilling touch that could not harm .
I vented five Channeling uses into her, because I could, changing negative to positive and infusing them into her.
Light swam through her spectral form, giving her color, form, and chasing away the massive negative energy bias around her from the Shroud. She gasped as she looked at herself, no longer a hollow ghost, so of her positive mories and emotions once more possible.
Go in peace, I told her, as I released the ghostly hand.
She paused, and then her hand flitted out, crossed my brow, and in a swirl of ectoplasm, she was gone.
I slowly lifted my hand up to my forehead, and touched that place as my face hardened.
A problem? Master Fred asked in multi-tone softness, coming up to lay a hand gently on my shoulder. I reached over to clasp it there.
She made a connection to her mories, expending the energy of the spell to open up the ones stored inside my physical brain. Every Speak with Dead I Cast, I should be able to expand the link backwards for one day per Caster level...
You have the last forty-so days of her life? Master Fred asked gently, lifting their head to look at the sky. Those who betrayed her, killed her?
Yes. I clenched my fist. So of them are still alive, including the father.
Well, then. They squeezed my shoulder reassuringly. There are a great many people who will look very happily for such people. A kind reminder that I still had a lot of Cultivator butchering to do. Also, your accent has changed.
I smiled softly despite myself. Physical mory is included, I agreed. Well probably have to use a Wish to adjust things...
Yes, they agreed, a simple thing that would simply alter my recordings to include the accent, and the recall of anyone who had seen them to match the current paradigm. It wouldnt affect the likes of Sama or Briggs, but I could shoot them a ssage as to why it was happening, and they simply wouldnt care. What are we doing next?
I am going to be Casting Speak with Dead a rather large number of tis. Working backwards a year of mories per day shouldnt be difficult, and I had the thoughtstreams to go through them with a fine-tooth comb. Three weeks tops to get done... faster if I did it traveling between fights. I believe Azaia will be coming to see later this morning. I will speak to her, administer Blessings thereafter, and then we will return to India and work the final purges of the Cultivators.
We will pass word of the new Pact among the Marked and the Blessed, and see who wants to take the plunge. But first, we will offer it to them.
Master Fred glanced the way I was looking, and simply nodded, following as I headed towards Penitent Hall.
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