13.

The ritual took its time settling into Inri's brain, like an arthritic cat turning around and around on a pillow before finally sitting down. And once settled, it blotted out his waking mind to complete its work. The book and its constituent parts had been through this all before and did not expect too much trouble at these early stages. Not that the entire endeavor had, in all these centuries, achieved what could truly be called a success.

Inri's actual cat, or at least the cat that thought Inri was her person, sat and watched him for a while. When nothing of interest happened for a while she turned tail and returned back to the tower. There was still some clattering going on in there so she whiled away the time, hunting red bugs in the cemetery.

Inri drifted back up to consciousness slowly, towards darkness. Lying still in the descending chill of the night made his body stiff and awkward. But his mind had cleared. Taking a deep breath Inri felt… better?

[Different. Whether that is truly better remains to be seen.]

He lay on his back, clutching the amulet loosely in his right hand which lay on his chest. Given a day to contemplate the wisdom of a hasty marriage, he'd already spent most of it asleep.

He took another deep breath.

It was like he was smelling something interesting, but it wasn't a scent, exactly. It was like a perfume of the mind that entered his awareness in a manner he could not quite discern. It certainly wasn't anything he could see under a dimly star-speckled sky.

Inri got his feet slowly and looked in the direction of the… thing. It pulled at him with an ineffable imperative.

[The small form had laid by the side of the stream for several hours. Three people had seen it. A young girl looking for a spot to drop the eel trap she had just woven, a man coming to collect clay to build a hearth foundation, and a day-servant returning home from the palace at dusk. Each had averted their eyes and decided it was better they take no further notice of that suggestive flutter of cloth and glimpse of skin. No need to borrow trouble when they could just go elsewhere for their journey or errand. Inri's privileged life meany he was largely devoid of any such self-preservational instinct.]

Making his way down a final slope covered in drooping wildflowers, Inri clambered over an old fence and skidded down the steep bank. He had to walk along this sandy path, ducking under overhanging trees and skirting around out-jutting banks and boulders. He could barely find his way by glints of light dancing on the face of the moving stream water.

Even in near darkened, the white-garment could be seen on the edge of the water. A white garment was an immediate statement of wealth. To make it, to launder it, to live in such a way that it could be kept unsoiled. Drawing closer Inro could also see the hem ended in handmade lace as wide his palm.

The skirt was partly sodden and partly dry and flutter in the breeze that came down the small stream-valley. The small feet were bare. Thin arms. Lying on her back, the child's head turned away from him to look upstream.

Inri felt sadness at the pitiful sight. He crouched the child's side and peered closer. The bodice of the child's dress was sodden and stretched where rough hands had held it. Her body was only slightly stiff as her turned her face towards him. Lips blue, eyes fogged and open. She looked to be around ten years old with dark hair braised up neatly and some still held in place with delicate pins.

Inri knew she must be dead. And yet she did not seem [very] dead. More like barely dead.

The thought itself did not make very much sense to him, but also felt quite natural as he went on to think:

[I could bring her back.]

The ritual partially unfurled itself in his mind. Just one corner but enough to show the rest was in there, intact and entire. It wanted only markings, sigils, and a solemn summoning--no obscure ingredients or burnt offerings to drag bleating through the garden. He knew exactly what to do.

[Is that what the book did?]

[I really can save her.]

[I can bring her back to life.]

It did not seem at all fair that someone had killed this child. He could see how the raised scuffs of cloth on her smocked bodice had been made as someone clutched the dress and plunged her head under the water, holding her down until she drowned. The froth of her last breaths was still on her lips.

Bringing her back just felt like the compassionate and just thing to do. As he bent to lift the child's frail body he did briefly glimpse how almost anyone else would see it, A nobleman at night carrying the body of a dead girl child. Sure, he just 'found' her. Nothing suspicious there, to be sure.

The rest of his intent would be called evil and against the will of the Gadis. People were not meant to come back from death.

[People are also not meant to murder their children. I am merely correcting that error. Surely, the Gadis would approve.]

He scrambled back up the hill with his awkward burden. The amulet fizzed in his hand, and ambiguous new sensation. Could a piece of stone be called excited?

[I was given this strange knowledge, quite unasked for, by my father the king. I was given knowledge of where this child lay by the book, and the book came from the seers themselves. Surely I am intended to do this. This is what the seers intended.]

His will thus bolstered, Inri strode onwards.