Death and the Emperor

Book 2 Chapter XI: Off With His Head

The Queen had only one way of settling all difficulties, great or small. 'Off with his head!' she said, without even looking round. -- Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland

Death could make herself appear to be almost anything she wished to be. And at present, she wished to scare the living daylights out of Aghar. So she considered what a mortal would find most frightening, and came up with something even more horrifying than a skeleton.

Skeletons -- especially walking, talking ones -- were alarming to mortals. Something that was only half-skeleton would be absolutely terrifying.

Aghar thought so too. He gaped at her, his eyes wide as dinner plates and his lower jaw apparently trying to reach the floor. He made a choking, wheezing sound. Then he collapsed in a dead faint.

Death looked at him in disgust. Where was the amusement in scaring him if he would pass out upon seeing her?

One of her lesser-used abilities was the power to manipulate objects in her throne room. She rarely used this ability because she rarely had any need to use it. But now... She looked at the silent, sluggishly-flowing river that wended its way across the floor.

Rise, she ordered it.

For the first time in centuries a wave rippled over the surface of the river. It rose higher and higher, until it resembled a miniature tidal wave. With a wave of her hand, Death sent the wave crashing down on Aghar.

~~~~

Aghar regained consciousness with a scream. It felt like someone had thrown acid over him. His skin reddened and blistered. Every cruel and evil deed he had ever done forced its way back into his memories. It was as if the wave that had crashed over him had burned away all his arrogance and the excuses he made to justify his sins, and he saw himself for how filthy and vile he truly was.

Aghar had never been a brave man. He had delighted in tormenting those weaker than him, and like all bullies he was a coward. The knowledge that somehow he had fallen into the power of something far stronger than he was, with the power and the will to torment him, reduced him to a whimpering wreck.

"Stop that noise," the skeleton-woman ordered. Aghar found himself unable to make a sound. "Now get up." The former guard found himself standing up without moving.

The skeleton-woman stepped down from her throne. In her right hand she held a scythe that was taller than she was. Its deadly sharp blade glittered in the light. Aghar trembled and tried to move away. He couldn't make his legs obey him, and he remained frozen in place.

"We are going to Carann," the skeleton-woman announced. "You have a public confession to make there."

~~~~

Kilan had no idea when Death was going to bring Qihadal's rapist to the palace, but he thought it would be near the end of the week. It was still a terrible shock to him when, one bright and sunny Chirin[1] morning, Death appeared in his office holding a weeping, trembling thing at arm's length.

Death let go of the bundle of cloth -- that couldn't possibly be a person, could it? -- with a disgusted look. The person fell to the floor and lay there, shaking all over and sobbing quietly.

"What on earth--?" Kilan began, hardly able to believe his eyes.

"This is your criminal," Death said, pointing her scythe at the figure curled up on the floor.

Kilan stared at him. He had half-expected Qihadal's rapist to be a hulking brute of man. It was impossible to see this man's face, because he had curled himself up into as small a ball as he could manage, but he did not at all fit Kilan's expectations. "...What did you do to him?"