Hungry Necromancer

"Are you sure that's what he says?"

I grunt, pushing my lids together as, barely resisting the urge to scream at the woman seated opposite me.

"Yes," I respond, managing to keep my voice calm and low, trying best to keep up the look of a mystic. "I am sure. Would you rather he say something else?"

The woman scoffs, my eyes are shut so I don't see her but I can certainly feel her impatience, doubt and dissatisfaction. "You're the Mystic! You tell me what he's saying."

"I have." I grit out, trying to remain calm, "You just seem dissatisfied is all. Did you expect him to say something else?"

"Not really, I just didn't expect him to say he loves me! He rejected me over and over again, he got married to my sister, we were simply best friends with all chance of romance burned and now you tell me he says he loves me?"

I gulp. This was not how this was supposed to go.

"Uhm. He meant that in a platonic way. He loves you as a friend!" my eyes flutter open just in time to see the woman pick up her bucket and get off her chair.

"No. I should have known this was too good to be true. You're just a charlatan! Trying to prey on our grieves?" she spits a wad on the table, barely missing my outstretched hands. "Shame on you!"

I get up and chase after her hastily retreating figure, "Wait, I hear your friend saying somethi-"

"Charlatan!" she keeps screaming the word as she carried her bucket of water back into the village, drowning out whatever defence I had to say.

I sigh. Tired, hungry and stressed out I crouch back into the makeshift tent and sit back at the table it covered. Elsa's table.

I really thought this would be my break. I thought I had the advantage here, I offered people here the chance to see their loved ones again, if only for a few minutes per fifty copper tokus, half of what the official Diviners charged, a silver for a few words of encouragement and love? I can do that! I can do better in fact! I can make you see your loved ones and talk to them.

At least I thought I could.

There wasn't anything wrong with my powers, it's just that I didn't have the same privileges to the dead the regular Diviners did. I didn't have access to anyone that went into that light Anselm spoke about and I didn't have access to any spirit that wasn't near the site of their death.

The first customer I got was a little girl. I was surprised and at the same time not really, but I was glad I could help her; she had her father- the one she wanted to talk to- die next to her. So, the old man lingered around her.

He was an easy summon, but in my foolishness, I didn't charge the girl because…well I pitied her. Who wouldn't? But if I'd known the next string of customers wouldn't be so fortunate to have their loved ones kick the bucket right next to them then I probably would've charged double.

After disappointing a string of people, I grew desperate and changed my tactics, if you didn't bring your ghost then I'd be your ghost.

I had Anselm implement the standard earth style psychic tactic. Candles being blown off one after the other, the table shaking, the poor shrub being lifted in the air- this was harder to pull as Anselm needed to be visible to hold things, but we brought the whole deal.

Except I didn't account for these people to be completely desensitized to petty scares like these. In hindsight I should have realized; Elsa simply hummed at the thought of Anselm being my dead ghost companion and Sem simply asked to see his father in the same way.

They completely shrugged off all the theatrics as nothing more than spirit activity and actually remained calm when I told them to. They weren't supposed to do that!

In the end they just nodded when it was done and quickly asked if their spirit was in the tent and if they could ask their questions. So far, I've given all the wrong answers and been left unpaid for my…services. Not that I blame them. Fifty copper wasn't something I'd be eager to part with either.

I quietly let loose a ball of green mana, no longer needing to voice the name of my spell as the proficiency reached the level I no longer needed to. It was an upgrade I felt even without the blue box alerting me to the change.

At the same time, it reminded me of another skill I want to upgrade; Animate Animal. I want to pull out a rat and practice but I long got rid of my pocket mice as they stunk and also Sem confronted me about it, said he got a good scare from the dead mice in my pockets when he was robing me. I found it both hilarious and embarrassing.

"Your plan seems to be failing…" Anselm comments. He always chooses the most annoying first words.

"I can see that Anselm."

"The sun is setting. Not a lot of people will be coming this way, even without your plan failing."

I sigh I rub my temples. My growling stomach did nothing for morale and neither did the disappointed faces of Elsa and Sem.

We'd set up shop not too far from the shabby home, specifically close to the best water fetching spot next to the river. Most of the people who came in where headed to the river or headed back, we had good traffic but terrible accounts. No one would be coming here now though.

"What are you going to do now?" The real question hung in the air; Are you going to attack and rob them?

"No." The answer is no. For now, at least. I look up to him and breathe out, "Do you have any ideas? I'm really considering practicing Soul Drain."

"Well, you're doing one thing very, very wrong."

"And what's that?"

"You're waiting for customers."

"Look, I get today was horrible but it doesn't me-"

"No, not that. I mean your customers are families of the dead, the few dead who have chosen not to pass on, unwittingly or not."

"And?"

"And your product, the dead, can't move on from the place of their death remember? They are stuck there like some sort of eternal torment by the Goddess or something."

He facepalms and groans, "Do I really have to spell this out for you? You need to go farm the product! You need to find the few spirits that are around here."

"I thought you said they were many here?"

"Yes! I did, I even spoke to a few but that doesn't mean they all have families that are still here and can pay to see them! You have to weed them out, some of these spirits have been around for centuries!"

Right, of course there would be complications like that. But how had I not realized I was mistaking my powers abilities so severely? I couldn't be too hungry to think rationally, now could I? Or was I just getting dumber?

"Right. Of course. Thank you, Anselm."

He shakes his head, "Sometimes I wonder which one of us is the Necromancer."

"That's the first time you've called me that." I muse.

"About time I figured out isn't it? It has been glaringly obvious all this time."

"Then you know." That I can't bring you back. No matter how powerful I become.

"I'm fine just living life through you. To an extent at least." He says plainly.

I nod, a bit ashamed at being caught in a lie but mostly motivated to make it the best out of it.

***

Anselm and I stalk out the empty roads at night. There were very few people up this late. Drinking men and the guards at the fence that surrounded the village mostly, but none disturbed or took note of us, chalking me us up to beggars, despite Anselm permanently adorning battle armour.

Speaking of beggars, they seemed to disappear into…somewhere when the lights when out. I found none of the scruffy men and women in the alleys.

What we're looking for aren't beggars though. We scouted houses mostly since the cemetery was never the place of anyone's death and no ghosts lingered around, ironic.

I felt a bit like a ghostbuster searching for ghosts around the silent village but ultimately kept getting reminded of the reason we were still walking around instead of being in bed by my ever-growling stomach.

It didn't take long to find one, two or a whole gaggle of ghosts with a single use of Sense Death. This is the first time I've used Sense Death in the village proper.

"It's an old village." Anselm answers, "This is good though he says. Over the years this place has produced spirits that didn't want to move on for whatever reason, serves your purposes quite well I'd say."

"If they have any living relatives that is."

Since we couldn't have them gather around us as I'd like, Anselm and I have to split up and talk to them individually but we both agree not to bother with the ones in armour; they would have died here before the village was even founded and was nothing more than just another battlefield.

"Hello," I wave at one completely ignoring my existence and doing summersaults in the air. At my attention he slips and takes a tumble that would have killed any living man.

He springs back to life and immediately starts talking a mile a minute. Just like Anselm had, I smile fondly at the memory. Who would've thought that my ghost hating-self would be nearly completely dependent on ghosts for my continued experience? Not me, that's for sure.

I raise my hand up and speak over the man. "Yes, I can see you. I cannot hear you. Answer me this spirit, do you have a living relative here? Nod if yes, shake your head if no."

The man shakes his head. Unfortunate. I walk past him, actually I walk through him on my way to the next ghost.

I continue to do this on and on, marking the spots where I get a yes with a 'Yes' in English and leaving the others.

After talking with a whole three generations of family that lived in a single house only to get another no, I call it in for the night and head back to the spot where Anselm and I were to meet; with all the time I'd spent he'd run out of time.

I get back and summon him. "How many?"

"I got five." He sighs.

"I got six. There aren't many old families here huh."

"Well it's not a town. It's a village, chances are the really old families will move out or die out. Worse is they aren't even nobles; survival isn't really likely."

"Whatever, lets get this over with. Take me to your five."

Eleven ghosts equal five silvers and fifty copper tokus. Absolutely better than nothing if we can convince their families to pay, either way the night hasn't been a waste, I just look forward to the morning.