Роберт Асприн - Forever After

“As soon as he’d finished,” Jord mused. “Are you sure he finished the scroll?”

“Well, Kalaran was dead, but I think that the ring and sword did that. The exorcism was supposed to banish his spirit once the body was dead — we didn’t want a zombie demigod.” She smiled. “Anyhow, they finished by burning the body. And, after the head was displayed for an entire moon in the Temple’s central tower, they flensed it and turned it into some complex magical early warning system against the return of the Dark. So, even if Agonamerince didn’t finish, the spirit wouldn’t have had a very pleasant refuge left.”

“Hmm, humor me, General. I have a bad feeling about this.” Jord held up the scroll. “There’s a pair of funny depressions on the scroll toward the bottom, right about where Agonamerince’s thumbs would have rested as he unrolled and read. Now, if he was holding it at this point and these marks are from his hands convulsing as he had his fatal heart attack…”

Domino looked. “I don’t read Ancient Thermaean, Jord, but I can see that there are a bunch more lines here below the marks.”

“If I were to read it aloud,” Jord asked, “might you recognize the sounds from where he broke off?”

“Maybe. Try and I’ll tell you.”

He began, his voice soft and eerily like that of the ancient priest. Domino stood to listen, her eyes shut and her hand resting where her sword would hang.

“That’s it,” she said, after Jord had read for several minutes. “I remember the ending clearly, ‘ Quatendo erbud, altonfuss dermain aah !’”

Jord squinted at the scroll. “The last word isn’t ‘ aah ,’ Domino.”

“It was, the way Agonamerince read it,” she said. “He collapsed right after that and those words were seared into my memory.”

“I think we have trouble, then. If I have my translation right, the exorcism was never completed.”

“A formality certainly,” Domino protested. “The body was destroyed. Where would Kalaran go?”

“Remember the warnings that Necrotica gave us about the ghosts?” Jord asked, carefully rerolling the scroll. “Dead bodies don’t mean dead spirits and Kalaran was a demigod.”

“Jord, I don’t like this. If you’re right, the last place that scroll should be is tucked in a grotto at the bottom of a lake. We should turn around immediately.”

“Domino.” Jord grabbed her as she turned to rouse Ae camp. “The spirit had to go somewhere. Since we didn’t hear any stories about hauntings at the palace — at least beyond the usual — we can guess that the spirit has found a new refuge.”

“You mean that it has possessed someone.” She nodded. “Who would be likely?”

Jord nibbled on his knuckle. “Well, I’m not really a student of the arcane arts, but I have been talking with Necrotica on the subject of ghosts and I’d guess that most of the same rules would apply.”

“Report, soldier!” Domino snapped, her exasperation melting instantly into a blush. “I mean…”

“Don’t worry, Domino.” He squeezed her hand. “I was going on a bit much. Basically, ghosts find possession easier if the person is ill, injured, or weakened. We have two good candidates there.”

“Rissa and Rango,” Domino said. “Not only were they injured, but they were weak. Either would be tempting vessels — they’re both powerful people.”

“Rango has been acting rather strangely,” Jord offered, “now that I think about it. He’s sent everyone off with those sorcellets you love so much and scattered the magic that defeated Kalaran to distant and difficult to reach places.”

‘There were all those phenomena,“ Domino said doubtfully, ”but if Rango is Kalaran, then perhaps he created the special effects as staging for his plan.“

“Or augmented them,” Jord agreed. “I think we’d better not give Rango the benefit of the doubt.”

“I agree. We’ll continue on and plant a dummy scroll so that we have the scroll of Gwykander to deal with a possible possession,” Domino said slowly, the decision to distrust her Prince coming with difficulty. “If we’re wrong, we can apologize to Rango later.”

“And if he’s Rango,” Jord said with a reassuring smile, “he’ll understand and probably pin a medal on your chest for it.”

“I don’t think that Rissa would much appreciate that,” Domino answered. “Maybe we can get the Prince to delegate someone.”

“I’d be happy to volunteer.” Jord grinned wickedly. “But I’d need some practice first.”

“Oh, so you’re finally done with the scroll for now and have time for me?”

“If you’ll give me a chance,” he promised.

For the next several days they rode on through rain that turned the road into a gluey morass. Finally, the wagons stuck and could not be unstuck.

“We’re close,” Domino said, shoving her streaming hair from her eyes. “Can’t you see how happy Spite is? I don’t think I should wait any longer. Rare, have the men set camp here and I’ll take a small group ahead,”

“Yes, General. I request permission to accompany you.”

“Request granted, old friend.”

She rode back to the wagon in which Jord had taken shelter.

“It is time,” she announced. “Give the scroll to me.”

“I’m coming with you, Domino,” he said. “Nightsky is saddled and ready.”

Before Domino could speak, Piggon waded up.

“I will accompany you, General, so that I may report to the Prince when the deed is done.”

“I…”

“I want to come too, General,” Seth piped. “Please?”

Domino sighed and Spite sniggered.

“Is anyone staying?” she finally managed.

“Most of us,” Bysha said, stomping over with a canteen of steaming wine. “Some people have the sense to stay out of the rain.”

Yet, it hardly mattered. As soon as they left the outskirts of the Company, Spite surged into a gallop so rough and choppy that Domino felt as if she were being tossed on a stormy sea.

“Damn it, Spitel You know I get seasick!” she yelped, clamping her jaws against her roiling stomach and looking to leap free.

At the pace Spite was moving even Nightsky was soon left behind. She heard Jord yelling, “Domino, the scroll!”

Then the metal tube was sparkling through the rain-streaked air. One hand firmly locked in Spite’s mane, she reached for the cylinder with her free hand. Without slowing, Spite plunged into the icy Lake waters. She snagged the tube just as the waters closed over her head.

The water tasted strongly of trout, but Domino sucked it in, grateful for Spite’s ability to let her breathe easily underwater. In her first such descent, she had carried an enchanted trident that allowed her the same ability in a more limited fashion. Astride Spite she felt like a sea creature, seeing everything clearly, aware of the unnatural montage of sounds the water bore.

Spite laughed as they glided toward the bottom — not a snort or an equine chuckle, but a nearly human-sounding laugh. Domino gripped the snowy mane more tightly, shocked to feel the figure between her knees shifting, melting, melding into another form. As they landed solidly on the sandy lake bottom, Domino found that she was straddling the very trim waist of a humanoid figure.

Blushing, she loosened her grip and, trusting the magic that had protected her thus far to continue to do so, stepped back for a better look. The sea-foam white hair and pale green skin were the same, as were the clear, pupil-less glass eyes. Nothing else was and Domino gaped as she studied the graceful, nude sea-elf who had drifted to face her.

“You… Spite, you’re a girl!”

Spite smiled, revealing strong, if somewhat horsy, white teeth. “So I am.”