Abaddon's Call

Chapter Forty-Four

Graydon called up Pag Pan. A man who was technically a cousin, but close enough to the main line that it was difficult to call him up. In learning to call Pag up, he learned blessed little about the man, his files had been purged from Pan archives. There were mentions in other archives but only in passing.

Pag Pan's death was on record still only because it was linked to Graydon. All it said was: Graydon Pan's mentor died, eaten by a dragon.

His father had erased the man.

Pag Pan appeared as Graydon's spell commanded him. The man looked just as he had all those years ago, still in his travel clothing. There was something sneering about his appearance.

"Pag Pan, I command you to speak your dying secret."

"Oh, that comes later—" Arcdon started.

"My lord bid me to rape his grandson as I had raped his son," Pag said, then smiled. "I hoped he would scream and mewl like his father. I like it when they wriggle."

Graydon turned to Arcdon.

The necromancer had surely heard worse secrets, he told himself. That was the only thing that helped him maintain control. His mentor grumbled in agreement, sounding saddened by the utterance.

"Bind it, then," Arcdon said. "I am able."

He turned to Pag.

"You are bound, and I shall have your secrets in physical form."

Pag scowled at Graydon, but reached behind him as Arcdon made a questioning sound. Graydon accepted a book bound in brown leather carrying the mark of hydra scaling. The book felt icy cold for a second, then warmed under his touch.

The words were there for him to read. He would be able to see it all. To read Pag's entirely life.

His stomach flipped at the idea.

A part of him wanted to burn the book, to forget what he had heard.

Why? Why do that?

"You may go," Arcdon wheezed.

Pag grunted and turned, walking away as he faded into nothing.

"Now," Arcdon sighed as he eased himself up off the stool, and his study appeared around them.

Graydon glanced at the golem in the corner, which had shifted over the course of his studies but showed no signs of life. He moved to the seat across from Arcdon's desk as the necromancer eased himself into the seat.

"Graydon, do you recall the conversation we had at the beginning of the year?" Arcdon asked.

"Calling up a soul to retrieve their dying secret was the first step," Graydon said as he looked down at the book in his hands. "You said, I believe, that you would teach me to bind the secrets once I had collected a few. He handed me a book. He wasn't supposed to hand me a book. Is it a Seven thing?"

"No, you follow the laws of magic just like everyone else. You were meant to call him up but not retrieve the secret, not this time. It is simply that the Seven know more about magic than your average mage, yes?"

"I'd agree on that point."

"Necromancy is not something one can simply flit through," Arcdon said. "The audit of necromancy often takes years, no matter how prepared a boy is when he comes to me."

"This is abnormal, you mean?"

"No, I wouldn't say it like that. Instead, I would say you are exceeding expectations. I was not prepared to go further today, which is why I dismissed your soul. That and what he spoke to you are bound to you. I have heard Seven refer to it as scale bound. Only you will ever be able to read that book or hear what the souls you call up say, even if you use my magic to do so. I have nearly perfected it, but heart wounds, unfortunately still get through."