Death and the Emperor

Book 3 Chapter XV: The Shadows Grow Longer

Die Schatten werden länger (The shadows grow longer)
Und die Lieder werden kalt und schrill (And the songs become cold and shrill)
Der Teufelskreis wird enger  (The vicious circle grows tighter)
Doch man glaubt nur was man glauben will (But you believe only what you want to)
Die Schatten werden länger! (The shadows grow longer)
Es ist fünf vor zwölf! (It's five to twelve)
Warum hält jeder still? (Why does everyone stay still?)
-- Elisabeth das Musical, Die Schatten werden länger (The Shadows Grow Longer)

Kilan's first thought was of Gialma's house surrounded by ice cream stands and picnic tables. It was a ridiculous mental image.

"A day trip destination?" he repeated blankly.

Death waved her hand dismissively. "That wasn't the right description. But they're visiting him, and taking over his house, and following him everywhere. I haven't got enough helpers left!"

Suddenly Gialma's odd behaviour made sense. "Well, why don't you tell them to leave him alone?"

"I did. But the little pests have already declared him an honourary Reaper and I don't know what nonsense, and they'll revolt if I try to force the issue."

A long, uncomfortable silence fell. Death folded her arms and glared into the empty fireplace. Kilan tried to think of a solution to this problem.

"Are the Reapers endangering anyone by their presence?" he asked.

"No, but they're shirking their duties." Death's scowl deepened. "I have only half the assistants I normally have because the majority of my servants are hanging around your cousin!"

Kilan knew very little about how being a Reaper worked. He suspected, however, that they were not paid for their work. But it did no harm to ask. "Couldn't you cut their wages?"

Death made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a scornful snort. "Wages? None of us get any wages."

So much for that idea.

"Couldn't you tell them to take turns visiting Gialma?" The thought of his cousin in constant contact with Death's servants made Kilan feel a cold sense of foreboding. But if Gialma didn't object, and if no one was in any immediate danger, complaining about it would do more harm than good. "You could even make it a sort of reward for the Reapers who work hard. If they do their jobs well, you could give them a whole day to visit him."

Death's frown became less disgruntled and more thoughtful.

"I suppose that would work," she said, drumming her fingers against the arm of her chair. "You needn't worry that they'll try to take over the world any day soon. Varan is one of the most frequent visitors. She's trying to convince Gialma of the error of his ways."

Thank goodness for small mercies, Kilan thought. Perhaps the Reapers would do some good.

~~~~

For almost a week now the Reapers had been coming in dramatically smaller numbers. Gialma hoped this meant they'd lost interest in him. Varan disabused him of this notion.

"The Queen's told us that we have to finish our assigned duties before we can visit you," she said one evening.

The afternoon was drawing to a close, and Gialma was reading out in the garden. Behind him Varan was lying on top of the stone wall that surrounded it, her wings outstretched. The shadow of her wings fell on the page open in front of him.

"So Death knows about me," he said quietly.

He had learnt from an early age never to draw the attention of anything unusual. Now Death itself knew of him. Her servants followed him everywhere. How could this end in anything but disaster?