Sumehra gave a slight nod, as if she were pleased.

“You summoned your father’s shade to guide your astral form to me and now you are here. State your business.”

Sarsour took a deep breath, and when he spoke, his voice was strong and firm. “The Council of Hierarchs has tasked me with executing Kardel Duressa for crimes he committed against the people of Qadira. But I am…having trouble performing that duty.” Sarsour went on to tell her of his attempts to slay Kardel, and how all of them had failed. When he was finished, he added, “It is my belief that the only way Kardel could’ve made himself immune to death is if he entered into some sort of pact with you.”

Sumehra looked at him for several long moments, during which time Sarsour noticed the Dark Lady never blinked or breathed. But then, she wouldn’t need to do either, would she? For though she looked like a human woman-and an unimaginably beautiful one at that-she was the embodiment of Death itself. What need would Death have to blink or draw breath?

“You are right, of course,” Sumehra said at last. “Kardel was so resentful of your family taking over the position of High Executioner that he came before me in spirit form-as you are doing now-and asked me to grant him a boon. If I would make him immune to death by all means other than natural aging, the spirits of his ancestors would serve as my personal attendants for all eternity.” The Dark Lady turned and gestured at the shadow creatures still kneeling before her throne. None of them had moved since Sarsour’s arrival.

Sarsour’s eyes widened in amazement. “There are hundreds of those creatures.”

“Thousands, actually,” Sumehra said. “Those you see here are but the shades of the highest-ranked mages of the Duressa line. The remaining ancestors are elsewhere in the tower, waiting until I have need of them.”

Sarsour was both impressed and appalled. “I can’t believe that Kardel would go to such lengths to embarrass me.”

“Not just you, Sarsour,” Sumehra pointed out. “But your entire family. If he succeeds, not only will you undoubtedly be relieved of your duties as Lord High Executioner, but no member of the Buhran line will ever be permitted to hold the office again.”

“But what good will that do?” Sarsour said. “After the crimes Kardel was committed, no member of his family will ever be able to serve as Executioner either!”

“True,” Sumehra admitted. “But he doesn’t care about that. All that matters to him is avenging his family and damaging the reputation of yours.”

In Qadira, family honor was everything, especially among the higher classes. But even so, Sarsour still couldn’t comprehend paying such a high price for vengeance. He looked upon the hundreds of shadowy spirits kneeling before Sumehra’s throne. All of them had willingly entered into the Dark Lady’s eternal service-all in the name of revenge.

“I wish to avoid allowing such disgrace to fall upon my own family name,” Sarsour said. “And more than that, I have a sworn duty to perform. Will you allow me to slay Kardel?”

Sumehra looked thoughtful for a moment before answering. “I’m sorry. I made a pact with Kardel, and I cannot break it.”

Sarsour sighed. “That’s it, then.” No matter how skilled a necromancer he was, his power was nothing compared to that of Sumehra. Kardel would spend the rest of his life in prison, where he would eventually die of old age. But Kardel would have succeeded in revenging his family against Sarsour’s.

“Of course, there might be a way that you could still perform your duty,” Sumehra said. “For a price.”

Sarsour swallowed. He feared to learn what price the Queen of the Dead would ask of him, but whatever it was, he knew he would pay it. But before he could say anything, his father’s spirit stood and stepped between Sarsour and Sumehra.

“My Lady,” Ferran said. “I stand ready to pay whatever price you might set for your assistance.”

“Father!” Sarsour protested. “You have no right to make that offer!”

Ferran turned to glare at his son. “I have every right. I was High Executioner before you, and I, too, am a Buhran. My honor is on the line as much as yours.” Ferran’s expression softened and he laid a hand on Sarsour’s shoulder. Sarsour couldn’t feel his father’s touch, but that didn’t matter. The gesture spoke for itself.

“Please, son. You still live and have a wife that loves you very much. And, the gods willing, the two of you may yet have a child one day. Let me do this for you.”

Sarsour hesitated, but he saw the pleading in his father’s eyes and finally nodded. Ferran smiled gratefully, then turned once more to face the Queen of the Dead. “It is settled. Whatever your price, I shall pay it.”

Sumehra looked from father to son then back again. “Very well.” She gestured with her left hand and Ferran’s form grew dark, his features indistinct. Within seconds, he had become a shadow creature just like the others that still knelt before Sumehra’s throne. Once the transformation was complete, the shadow-thing that had been Ferran Buhran walked over to join the others and knelt with them

“One can never have too many personal servants,” Sumehra said.

Sarsour knew the only reason he didn’t cry was because his astral form didn’t possess true tear ducts.

“Now listen closely,” Sumehra said. “As I told you, I will not go back on my agreement with Kardel. Only natural aging will kill him. But you are defining your duty too narrowly, Sarsour. You may be incapable of destroying Kardel’s body, but what of the man himself?”

Sarsour frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“When you return home, tell your wife what I said. She’ll know what to do.”

Sumehra gestured with her right hand and the throne chamber began to blur around Sarsour. He realized that the Dark Lady had dismissed him, and his astral form was preparing to return to his physical body. But just as Sarsour’s vision began to grow too hazy for him to see Sumehra, he understood what the Queen of the Dead had suggested to him, and the necromancer laughed.

Sarsour and Adila stood looking down at the squirming, cooing, gurgling, pink-faced creature swaddled in soft, warm blankets within the newly purchased crib. The room-which until recently had served as Sarsour’s study-had been refurbished, entirely under Adila’s direction of course, into a child’s nursery, complete with colorful murals of cute woodland animals on the walls and mounds of toys wherever one looked.

“Thank you for helping me, my love,” Sarsour said.

“My pleasure. After all, what are spouses for? Besides, I benefited, too.” Adila gazed down lovingly at the recent addition to their family.

Kardel’s body might still live, but the man-his identity, his memories-had been wiped away thanks to Adila’s youthening magic. An enchantment this strong could only be used once on a particular person, Adila had warned, but that was all right. Once was enough. For all intents and purposes, the man known as Kardel Duressa was dead. The Council of Hierarchs, while pronouncing Sarsour’s solution unorthodox at best, was nevertheless satisfied that justice had been served. What’s more, they had granted Sarsour and Adila permission to adopt the baby.

“Isn’t he the most precious thing?” Adila said. “What shall we name him?”

“I thought we might name him after my father,” Sarsour said.

Adila looked down at their son, considered for a moment, then smiled. “I’d like that. How about you, Ferran? What do you think?”

The baby gazed up at them with eyes that were wide, blue and-most of all-innocent.