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Ward and Beck looked totally blank. Doc looked thoughtful. I focused in on that.
“What?” I asked him. He’d actually met her, after all.
“It might be a gamble,” he began, his deep voice measured. “But perhaps we ask her directly. Not,” he continued, holding up a hand to stall whatever it was Ward was clearly about to say, “that we tell her everything we know, but that we raise the issue of her brother being a mayoral candidate with… connections who have recently ended up dead.”
The rest of us stared at him.
“Seriously?” Ward asked, more politely echoing my own thoughts.
Doc shrugged. “It’s a gamble, as I said,” the big orc replied. “But Izar didn’t feel like a witch or warlock to me.”
“She said she wasn’t,” I told him. “But you’d be able to tell if she really were by feel?” I asked.
“Practiced magic—the magic of a witch or warlock—feels different from the innate magic of Arcanids. Izar obviously has that, but that’s all I sensed on her.”
“You couldn’t have missed it?” I pressed. I didn’t doubt Doc’s abilities—I’d have to be an idiot to even think about it—but because I didn’t understand how it worked, I didn’t know if it was something you could miss.
“I suppose it’s possible,” he replied. “But she would either have to be intentionally concealing it or have so little that it probably wouldn’t be enough for her to be a serious practitioner.”
I thought about this. “Which she’d have to be to use the pendant?” I guessed.
Doc shrugged again. “That depends on the object itself,” he replied. “Some magical talismans—like a necklace or pendant—will work for anyone, whether or not they’re a practitioner. That’s rare, but we’re talking about a soul-reliquary, which isn’t exactly common.”
“That’s like a soul-jar, right?” Ward asked.
I didn’t know what the fuck a soul-jar was. “A what?” I asked.
“Soul-jars are different,” Doc replied. “They hold souls, kind of like the idea of a genie’s lamp. A soul can be trapped inside and used—commanded. It’s a form of necromancy. But this pendant, if it does what Izar described, is something different. If it’s similar to other artifacts I’ve studied, it doesn’t hold the soul, butusesit, weakening the spirit until it… is either destroyed or becomes too weak to be a power source.”
“Destroyed?” Ward sounded upset. I didn’t blame him. I wasn’t much happier.
“The documentation isn’t terribly clear how it works, and I haven’t exactly attempted to experiment with one,” Doc replied, his tone dry.
“Well, that’s no fun, Mason,” Beck teased.
The big orc rolled his gold-flecked eyes. “I am not a necromancer.”
“Does that mean we should ask Archie?” I wanted to know.
Ward gestured, and the deceased necromancer in question materialized beside me.
“Ask me what, Puck?”
It was my turn to roll my eyes, but I let it go. “Have you ever used a… what was it, Doc?”
“Soul-reliquary,” the orc supplied.
“Shit, son. Do I look like that kind of monster to you?”the dead man wanted to know, looking offended.
“You look like a necromancer to me,” I replied, trying to sound placating. “I don’t know what all you can do with a… soul-thingy.”
“Nothing good,”the ghost replied.“What’dya think that goddamn house was?”
I blinked.
“Does that mean you know how it works?” Ward asked him.
“Sadly, no, sonny,”the ghost replied with a shake of his head.“All I know is that it hurts like a bitch and makes you feel hollowed out and hungry inside.”
