Authors: Jonah Hewitt
“More than twice as long as any previous Necromancer,” Hokharty stated flatly.
Hokharty said this in an offhand matter as if reading stats on voter registration by county, but Lucy could tell it was a personal dig at Moríro.
“A lot has changed in those three centuries. How many people, Necromancer, were living on the earth when you first became Necromancer? 500 million perhaps?”
Moríro didn’t answer. Hokharty wasn’t really asking questions anymore. He was gaining steam and moving into a whole monologue. He was walking around them like a panther stalking its prey.
“How many are there alive today? Nearly seven billion? That’s quite a dramatic change during your tenure wouldn’t you say?”
Moríro said nothing. Hokharty wasn’t finished yet.
“Antibiotics, heart transplants, sanitation: the list just keeps growing, and so do the numbers.”
Moríro looked terribly angry with Hokharty. “What arrogance! It was not my place to meddle! The hand of fate cannot be stayed. I did not interfere with the Great Master’s design!”
“Exactly, Necromancer. Unlike your predecessors, you took a decidedly hands-off approach to your duties. You
didn’t
interfere, and by not interfering there is now more death than ever. Ironic, isn’t it?” Hokharty said simply. Another person couldn’t have said this without sounding smug, but Hokharty made it sound like instructions for installing software on your personal computer.
Moríro didn’t answer. What was Hokharty getting at?!
“Scribe,” Hokharty suddenly said looking at Nephys. Nephys jumped and nearly yanked Lucy’s arm off.
“Y-y-yes…Chamberlain?” Nephys said nervously. Both Lucy and Moríro looked at Nephys suspiciously. Was Hokharty this mysterious Chamberlain figure she kept hearing about?
“You are truly far-sighted, Nefer,” Hokharty replied, “But though I command many in your world, here I am only a servant. You may call me Hokharty.” Lucy thought that was impenetrable, but Nephys seemed to understand it right away and nodded vigorously.
“Scribe, I know you have a marvelous mind for facts. How many people die each second and cross the causeway from the Gates of Erebus to Limbo?”
“About 1.8…um…Hokharty, sir.” Nephys answered nervously.
“And how many is that a minute?”
“108”
“And each hour?”
“About 6,480”
“And each day?”
“Um…155,520…I
think
.” Nephys replied uncertainly. Lucy was impressed with Nephys’ math skills, but what was Hokharty up to with all these math problems?! Hokharty just paused and gave a slight smile.
“And you have seen these numbers personally haven’t you? You have seen them flooding through to the other side?”
“Yes…sir…I have.” Nephys gripped Lucy’s arm a little tighter.
“You have also been to the chamber of the Great Master, haven’t you scribe?” Hokharty remarked, as if this were a casual everyday topic of conversation.
“Yes…I have,” Nephys replied timidly.
Even Moríro looked shocked at this, and a new round of tittering went around the room.
“And how would you describe the Great Master’s health?” Hokharty asked ominously.
The whole room went silent. Nephys looked around desperately at Lucy, Moríro, even the imp who was droning and wheezing in an almost melancholy way, but there was no one who could help him. Lucy felt horribly sorry for him. It was unfair for him to be put on the spot like this, but Lucy had to admit, she was as eager to hear the answer as anyone else.
After several hard swallows, Nephys looked down at his sandals and said in a voice so soft it was barely audible.
“Not well,” he said.
The room gasped collectively. A slight flurry of cold air blew through the room and several of the blue-white candle flames guttered and went out.
Hokharty looked at Nephys in an almost pitying way then he stepped towards Moríro and looked him directly in the face.
“You see, Necromancer, the two worlds
are
out of balance, but the imbalance is found exclusively on
this
side.”
Moríro stood frozen and so did the rest of the congregation. Something horrible had just been revealed but Lucy still didn’t quite understand. She felt so stupid! In the long, hushed silence that followed, Lucy tried to wrap her mind around what Hokharty was saying. What did he mean that the imbalance was all on this side?! And what was all this playing around with numbers?! In the long pause that followed Hokharty’s pronouncement, Lucy tried to think.
She thought of the word “balance,” and instantly imagined one of those old fashioned scales with shallow plates suspended by chains on either side of a balance arm. She imagined weights piled up on the one side, weighing it down to the ground while lifting the other pan high into the air. Mentally, she tried to think how to make the pans even, and in her mind she imagined reaching out and transferring the weights from the heavy pan over to the lighter pan until slowly, one pan was raised, and the other lowered until they were even. She repeated this over and over in her head trying to understand, moving weights from one side, to the other. What were the weights? One side to the other. They weren’t weights at all, they were what? People? Moving weights from one side to the other, moving people from one side to the other…moving
people
from one side to the other!
As it dawned on her she cried out “OH, MY…” but she clapped her hands in horror over her mouth before the final word got out. People! He was talking about people! He was going to kill off billions and billions of people! Moríro gripped her shoulder a little more tightly, lest she panic or run off. He had obviously understood right away what Hokharty was up to.
Hokharty continued his monologue. “There are too many men and only one Great Master who must account for them all, Necromancer. Mankind has dammed the river of mortality and increased their numbers beyond all reason, but the dam is breaking. The earth is groaning under the weight of so many souls, and even Death suffers. And if Death suffers too much, all of us will suffer the more for it. You’re a doctor, Necromancer, surely you must understand how a limb must be severed to save the whole body? It will no doubt be hard, The Great Master will suffer greatly, and the pain will be felt both here and below, but when we are finished, the flow will be manageable and the balance will be restored, if not permanently then for a very long time.”
Lucy blanched and had to grab her head in shock. Kill six and half billion people! Was he serious?!!
“I’m sorry it has come to this point. An earlier intervention would have been preferable, but then, it wasn’t my decision.” He looked venomously at Moríro, but quickly regained his calm. He was talking about it like they were talking about assembly line production figures and not human beings. She looked to Miles and Tim. Did they understand what Hokharty was saying?! Schuyler was just twirling his lollipop thoughtfully.
“And how are you going to do this?! With this sorry band of corpses?!” Moríro spat at him.
The crowd muttered as if offended, but Hokharty kept his impassive stare.
Hokharty looked to Nephys and smiled. “The Gates of Erebus have been unlocked, Moríro. The one who opened it is standing right there beside you, and the key is in your pocket. We need only unlock the door from this side.”
Nephys blanched. Lucy looked at him and he looked at her. His eyes were darting about frantically. He was putting the puzzle pieces together himself. Lucy’s stomach fell. Had they all just been pawns in Hokharty’s game all along? It certainly looked that way.
Moríro was stunned but defiant. “There is no way to force the hand of the Great Master. You cannot force the Gates of Erebus from this side.”
“I believe I know of
one
way.” Hokharty turned and stepped aside revealing the body of Maggie Miller.
Lucy was stunned. What did her mother’s body have to do with this?!
“Imposible!” Moríro fumed.
“It’s not impossible, Necromancer,” Hokharty replied, and with this, he looked to Nephys who looked like he wished he could disappear.
“How did you come here, Scribe?” Hokharty said abruptly. Nephys didn’t answer at first but then nervously replied, “I…I came through the Gates of Erebus.”
“And how did you manage that?” The Chamberlain asked nonchalantly.
Nephys looked up and pulled a face. Why was the Chamberlain asking him things he already knew?!
“I…I had a stone.”
The crowd exchanged hushed whispers and furtive conversation.
Hokharty smiled a vague but satisfied smile. “The stone protected him through the gates, forced them open, just a little. With the stone and the talents of a necromancer, one could restore the life of another and open the gates from this side. If you will not do it, then perhaps your heir will.”
Lucy blanched. He wanted her to open the gates! She let go of Nephys’ hand and pulled her hair hard back from her forehead. Bringing her mother back would open the gates – she would have her mother, but then billions could die! This was unbelievable.
“For what purpose?!” Moríro demanded, “Even if you could do it, which I doubt, the Great Master would never allow it!”
“Exactly!” Hokharty exclaimed, almost pleased with his own cleverness, “If the Great Master does not want the gate opened, he will have to leave his temple and come here to stop it,
himself
.”
The crowd went silent.
“What are they talking about?!” Lucy asked Nephys in a hoarse whisper, “What happens if Death leaves his temple?”
Nephys gripped her hand a little tighter. It was too hard to explain. He thought over all the red-letter words he had copied in his time as a scribe and just decided to recite them out loud, “Atlantis, Krakatoa, Hiroshima, The Black Plague,” he whispered in blank-eyed fear.
Lucy looked back at him in horror.
Moríro pulled his coat a little tighter around him, as if to keep the stone safe.
“Madness!” Moríro turned in a circle like an angry dog. “MADNESS!!”
“Necromancer, please,” Hokharty pleaded, “I had hoped you, of all people, would understand. If the Great Master is to be saved we must act quickly.”
“What you are doing could be the end of the Great Master and the ruin of everything!”
“I am willing to take that risk for the sake of the continuation of the world for as long as possible. The world must continue, but it cannot continue as it is. Death has survived past cataclysms. He will survive this one, but if we do nothing, the world
will
be thrown into chaos. Will you help me?”
Lucy and Nephys looked up at Moríro. What was he going to do?! Moríro looked scared and uncertain himself, and deeply, deeply troubled. Then he steeled himself and spoke.
“Hokharty,” he began solemnly, “I cannot express what a grave disappointment this day has been, or how much your words have troubled me.” Moríro was nearly choking up from rage. “You have been a loyal servant and friend these many years and I had come to trust your judgment and skills time and time again, but this time, you have gone too far. I fear you have lost your mind. You wish to force the hand of the Great Master and take his role on for yourself.” Moríro’s voice became like burning metal with his next words, “IT. SHALL. NOT. STAND. I regret what must be done, but it must be done.” Moríro took a breath and pronounced his judgment of Hokharty and his plans.
“You will be banished from the Halls of Death and sent to the wastes or the pits of punishment or wherever the Great Master shall see fit to send you, but you shall never again be summoned back to the land of the living.”
Moríro let go of Lucy and bit his knuckle hard. Then he stepped in front of Lucy and walked the few short steps towards Hokharty. Hokharty folded his hands behind his back and didn’t move. He bowed slightly from the neck and stood perfectly still as if awaiting his punishment like an obedient child. The whole crowd waited to see what would happen. Moríro stepped up to him and put the bloody knuckle against Hokharty’s chest. He called out Hokharty’s full name in a commanding voice, and then uttered some other words in a language Lucy didn’t know, but nothing happened.
Hokharty looked down at the bloody knuckle and then slowly looked back up at Moríro. Moríro’s face was blanch white but otherwise expressionless. What had just happened? Lucy wondered. Was there supposed to be a crack, a pop or a bang? A wisp of smoke or something? Lucy was feeling very nervous. Moríro took a step back.
“Necromancer.” Hokharty bowed from the neck deferentially then spoke slowly, “I too regret what must be done. I believe you to be a good man, and I had hoped you would see reason, but I believe that you can no longer see things clearly.” Somewhere from behind them came the sound of a large door opening, and then the telltale sounds of shuffling feet and creaking floorboards as the gathered crowd made way for the sharp footsteps of someone approaching. Hokharty kept talking, “I was afraid you might feel this way, but the decision is too important to leave in the hands of any one man, so I sought out some assurances of my own.” He then looked beyond them to the crowd and towards the approaching new arrival. “I regret having to do this, Necromancer, but I am no longer here at your request.”