The day before the planned attack rushed past.

  Tybalt napped for most of it, trying to recover from his injuries more quickly. Vidalia wasn’t in the dreamspace, and perhaps that made his dreams less memorable. Because he wasn’t certain whether he dreamed at all.

  Time simply slipped away, and then he was awake again.

  Markus disappeared from the hut early on, leaving Tybalt alone. Maybe Markus just wanted to avoid the stench of rulebreaker that hung around Tybalt now. Maybe someone had passed around word that the bastard should be left to stew, so he could think about what he’d done wrong or some such juvenile nonsense. Or maybe Markus felt guilty. Perhaps he had betrayed Tybalt in some way that escaped the necromancer now, his brain fogged by pain all through his body.

  Regardless of the reason, Tybalt didn’t mind the solitude.

  He was alone with his bruises and broken bones, yes. But there was also no release from the strange tension he had felt since his latest encounter with Lieutenant Sperry—no, with Mariella, his squad’s Lieutenant. Tybalt liked the way that felt. Mostly.

  There was an electricity in the air… and something else. Perhaps something dangerous.

  He didn’t like to dwell on his own feelings much, but the last conversation with Mariella left him with a bit of a puzzle—one which Baldwin forced him to think about more than he otherwise would have.

  Reporting in, master, the revenant sent during one of Tybalt’s wake windows. I successfully reattached the corpse’s head. But seeing as I couldn’t get him to you, and you’re unlikely to get out to him, I buried him. I put his body close to one of the mountains, so we have an easy landmark when we recover it.

  Well done, Baldwin, Tybalt sent. I’ll try to get over to raise him before the end of the day.

  I don’t think that’s such a good idea, master, Baldwin replied. I went by your hut a little while ago, thinking about going to see you in person and check on your injuries. But I didn’t actually enter, because you’re being watched. There are one or two guys outside at all times, posed so they look casual, but taking way too much interest in anyone who goes near you. I don’t think you could get away unseen.

  We’ll have to be careful not to do anything suspicious, was Tybalt’s response. And, after a moment: Continue looking after my interests, Baldwin. You’re doing well.

  Tybalt felt a small but distinctly pleased reaction from Baldwin, and the necromancer smiled. He was getting used to knowing when the revenant would want some positive feedback.

  That’s a massive nuisance, actually, he thought to himself after a moment. I can’t go out and raise any new undead. That means my levels are going to stagnate until I can get out from under observation. We’ll hopefully be done with hiding who we are after tomorrow, but if we don’t get the chance to betray the squad, every day adds just a little extra risk that we get caught. And I’ll still be in this damned weakened state! I don’t like it…

  The revenant had remained silent as Tybalt worked through what he wanted to do, but the necromancer could feel Baldwin still waiting for him to say something. It was a little uncanny, knowing that he was still in a conversation with someone who was not nearby, who was not saying anything, and who he could not see.

  Baldwin, can you do me a favor? Tybalt finally sent, reopening the discussion. Can you try and get our two zombies out of the barrel they’re stored in? I’ll send them a message letting them know to go with you when you open the lid. Grab a handful of health elixirs, too, if you can… Unless you think you’re being watched too. Only complete these tasks if you feel there’s an opening.

  With pleasure, master, Baldwin replied in a tone of relish. I’ll be careful… We’re finally making our move, then?

  Tybalt nodded, and he sensed the revenant had picked up the gesture through their bond.

  Tomorrow, the squad goes after the beastfolk, the necromancer sent. And when the moment comes, we’ll finally attack the squad directly.

  There’s one more thing, Baldwin sent after a moment. Lieutenant Sperry walked close to your hut too, not long ago. Seemed like she wanted to go in, but she either chickened out or noticed there was someone watching. I have to ask: given that we’re betraying the squad tomorrow, and she’s the single deadliest member, shouldn’t we do something about her? I know you’re playing some sort of game with her, but you don’t have much time left. She’s left camp a couple of times on her own today, and she seemed lost in thought. Distracted. I could probably ambush her successfully, even on my own. I would almost certainly succeed if you ordered Hieron and the others back off the mountain to help me.

  No, Baldwin, Tybalt sent after only a moment’s hesitation. I want her alive. As for the ‘game’ I’m playing… I already told you a little about it. I have reason to believe I’m succeeding. She came to see me after I got back here, before you started watching the observers outside my hut. She… tended to my wounds. She found it appalling the way they attacked me. She’s been… looking at me differently. She is almost ready to turn on the squad. I can sense it.

  Tybalt felt slightly uncomfortable sharing even this non-detailed account of what had happened with Baldwin. Like he was giving information about an intimate encounter. Nothing sexual had happened, of course.

  But he smiled as he recalled the tension he had felt—still felt, frankly. The feelings. Her soft touch on his skin once he decided to let her apply her healing efforts—lingering, he was almost certain, on his abdominal muscles for just a little longer than necessary as she bound his injuries. The soft whisper of her voice when they were quietly conversing. The fresh, clean, earthy smell of her hair, like pine—maybe rosemary—which she had left behind in his sheet after he pulled her into his bedding to hide her when the Sergeant came.

  Master, what will you do if she doesn’t turn? Baldwin sent.

  Tybalt’s smile turned to a frown instantly.

  Then… I’ll kill her myself, he replied with a conviction that he did not wholly feel.

  The revenant might have sensed it, but he wisely said nothing back. He probably knew he had given the necromancer enough food for thought.

  They broke off the conversation, and Tybalt sent the message to the two zombies. Then he slept again. He would need his strength for the next day.

  —

  Tybalt awakened and saw the sun had almost set.

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  He decided to check on the fext and the squad of undead. He would need them the next day.

  How did the day go, Hieron? Tybalt sent telepathically.

  Hieron responded instantly, as if he’d been waiting for Tybalt.

  We met a death’s-head leopard and played with it! I’d heard of those things, but never met one before, the boy replied in a tone of twisted enthusiasm. In a slightly less energized voice, he added, It broke, though. Way too fast. The game got boring after that.

  Gods, this kid is creepy, Tybalt thought.

  But the fext did get results. As Hieron explained over the next few minutes, under his leadership, the skeletons and zombies had killed off dozens of wild animals. They had only lost a couple of their number—skeletons torn to their component bones, all done by the leopard, which had been incredibly fierce once pressed. The end result was a cumulative forty-odd levels, divided up between the various surviving undead.

  It was a lot of experience for the monsters, though they were so weak to start with that Tybalt wasn’t certain whether any of his creations would now suddenly have risen to the standard of being able to fight one to one with soldiers. Probably not.

  But they had done very well ganging up on creatures higher level than themselves. Tybalt just needed to get the ratio right.

  Strange that I didn’t level up myself, he thought. He had gotten experience by proxy when Baldwin killed the squad’s cook. But then, I’m not sure if I got any when he and the others killed the miners. Maybe I need to be close by, or the experience yield is drastically reduced or even nonexistent…

  You can fix the skeletons the leopard busted up, right, master? Hieron sent. If you can’t, I’ll just leave them up here…

  I can fix them, Tybalt replied instantly. As long as the skulls and spinal columns haven’t been destroyed. I’ll do it once we get an opportunity to reconnect. I’m being watched right now. Did you… collect that leopard?

  Um, no, chief, we didn’t, Hieron sent. I thought you just wanted us to kill stuff. Plus, I think our creatures ripped off its two front limbs in addition to tearing out the leopard’s throat. Like I said, they broke him. They had to, to get the kill. He had nasty claws, that guy. Do you still want the leopard? We’re close enough to go back and get him.

  There was a long moment of silence as Tybalt considered that question carefully. A death’s-head leopard would be more formidable than almost any wild creature out here. There were lions in the mountains somewhere, he’d heard, but those legends were old. They might be extinct for all he knew.

  I have Scrimshaw now, he thought. Maybe I didn’t need to ask Baldwin to sew the head back on that other body either. Maybe I’m capable of using Scrimshaw to reconnect bones, even if they’re still attached to other body parts. The skill description doesn’t imply any limitations that would preclude that. It could be worth a try to fix the leopard.

  Perhaps he could also repair his own ribs, which seemed to have begun healing imperfectly—a phenomenon that Lieutenant Sperry’s medical treatment had drawn his attention to.

  But then, there would be other leopards. Tybalt’s monsters would find a plethora of wild beasts over the next weeks and months, assuming they survived.

  Carrying the body would substantially slow Hieron’s little squad down, much more than just carrying the disassembled skeletons would. Tybalt needed them to come down the mountain fairly quickly and get into a position to help him with the remaining soldiers.

  Plus, he wouldn’t have the chance to turn this leopard into a zombie anytime soon.

  No, Tybalt sent after a moment. Don’t bother. You just need to make sure to keep your crew intact and get everyone you can back to the lower levels of the mountain before daybreak.

  What, you don’t want us to do more hunting? Hieron sounded disappointed.

  Not on the mountain, Tybalt replied. I want you closer to the camp and ready to march tomorrow.

  The fext did not respond for several seconds, but Tybalt could partially feel Hieron’s mental state through their necromantic bond. He sensed a discontent in the silence. Perhaps some element of burgeoning insubordination. Tybalt hastened to explain.

  The plan is for us to try and pick off some of the squad if we can do it quietly, the necromancer sent. Think of it like a very high stakes game of hide and seek.

  Why didn’t you say so sooner, master? Hieron asked. We’ll be down right away!

  Tybalt allowed the conversation to end there.

  He shook his head silently.

  I’m going to have to find some way to keep that child’s impulses in check in the future, he thought. He’s too bloodthirsty, even for what we’re up to. I might regret putting him in command of anything…

  With that matter dealt with, Tybalt decided to try an experiment he’d thought of during the conversation.

  He laid flat on his back again and activated Scrimshaw.

  The bone-manipulating energy wrapped around his hand, and he sucked in a nervous breath. Then he reached both hands up to his chest. He placed the mana-clad hand just over two of his broken ribs and his other hand just below the ribcage.

  Then he reached out and touched his own ribs with his power.

  “Fu—hrgh!”

  He barely muffled what would have been a screamed curse, clenching his teeth hard around the sound.

  Hurts so much…

  It felt as if he had just thrown his ribs into a pot of boiling hot water, and they were now cooking.

  Have to finish it. Don’t waste this pain…

  Tybalt kept the flow of mana from his left hand, and with his right, he began—as gently as he could, because he was already in agony, molding the broken ribs as closely as he could to the shape of the unbroken ones on the opposite side. He kneaded the bones like clay with his fingertips, careful not to break off a piece.

  “Yes,” he breathed after a moment. “All right. Did it…”

  He was almost ready to pass out from the pain, but he thought he had his ribs in the correct shape. As he touched them gingerly, with Scrimshaw released for the moment, the bones seemed in much better shape than they had been, basically a match for those on the other side.

  Just one more…

  He shifted his hand up and to the left. There was another, smaller fracture he needed to fix, though it would be harder to massage properly. Completing the easier one had given him confidence.

  Mana pulsed out of his core and ran up his body until it flowed into his hand.

  Here we go. Scrimshaw!

  “Urk!” His body made a much smaller noise now that he knew what to expect from the skill, though his rib was still on fire. At least it was just one this time.

  He ran his other hand over the rib and began coaxing it into changing its shape.

  Crap… He had pressed it downward, and now he could feel the clay-like substance of the semi-liquid bone touching a lung. He would have to fix it if he wanted to be able to run without his rib jabbing him in the lung every time he sucked in a breath.

  Tybalt inhaled hard and fast, blowing his lungs up like a pufferfish confronting a predator.

  Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!

  The sudden contact across the entire rib bone felt a lot like being stabbed in a small arc across that section of his chest. He saw stars for a moment, then shook his head slightly.

  He grabbed the putty of the rib with the hand that he’d been using to reshape these bones, and he roughly squeezed it into the shape he needed.

  He looked down at himself, and although his vision was shaky, it seemed to him that his ribcage looked normal now. Normal-ish.

  Good, he thought.

  Then Tybalt blacked out.

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