Devan

Devan woke up feeling like he’d just dodged an appointment with the grave. He had, in fact, so the feeling was justified. The sense of lethargy throughout his body tugged at his very bones, and his wounds still ached with pain. Even Tan’s power wasn’t enough to heal a body overnight.

He had, however, kept Devan alive despite significant blood loss and venom spreading throughout his body. Devan was once again impressed with the man’s skills. He’d felt on death’s door by the time he was hauled up to this bed, so the fact he was still breathing and even felt better was a silent testament of how good Tan was.

Carefully, he lifted himself into a sitting position and poked at the wounds on his face. Nothing felt hot. The wounds on his arm only mildly ached instead of feeling like they were being gouged by a red-hot poker. Good, good. Day was looking up already. No loss of life or limbs, banzai.

Devan managed to get one whole foot out of the bed when his door abruptly opened and Hans appeared.

“Sir Knight,” Hans greeted with a smile of relief. “You’re awake. How do you feel?”

“Like I danced with death, but I’ve felt worse.”

“Master said you wouldn’t be fully healed for a few days yet, so I’m not surprised.”

“How long have I been out?”

“About eight hours, Sir Knight. You’ve woken sooner than expected.”

Devan’s eyes widened in shock. Only eight hours? That recovery time was insane considering the severity of his wounds. He’d had healing potions given to him before. They’d not been this effective.

“Where is Tan?”

“Downstairs with his siblings. They’re all quite cross and alarmed at what you reported. They’re meeting now to plan a course of action.”

Tan had mentioned he was the youngest of three siblings. They were all here?

Devan tried to imagine what three Tans in one room would be like.

Could he possibly just sleep through that meeting? Surely that was the saner option.

Hans either read minds or had common sense and could guess what Devan was thinking because he tacked on, “Master has a monitoring spell on you. He’s likely aware you’re awake. I’ll bring you dinner down in the parlor so you can join them.”

In other words, no pretending to sleep for him.

Well. Facing three crazy black sorcerers couldn’t be worse than fighting off a dangerous creature in the woods by himself.

Maybe. He did want to get up and thank Tan for the rescue. He dressed in clothes Hans provided for him, which were a suspiciously perfect fit. Devan didn’t think there were spells on them in order to make them fit, either.

First question: How the hell had Tan figured out his sizes?

Second question: Why the hell would he bother to have a wardrobe for Devan available?

Third question: How much sanity would it cost Devan to know the answers to these questions?

He feared it might be too much. Devan chose to preserve what little sanity he had left and put on the emotionally loaded shirt and pants. Safer option.

Hans was right at his side as he descended the stairs. Carefully, slowly, not at all at his usual pace. He had no doubt that if he faltered, the kobold could lift him and carry him the rest of the way. Short, yes, but kobolds were insanely strong in their own right. In fact, having one in charge of a household was a mark of high honor. They chose who they served. It was not the other way around.

Come to think of it, why was a kobold in this household? Devan regarded Hans with new interest. “Hans. Sometime, I would like to hear the story of how you came to be here.”

Hans craned his neck up to look at him, smiling. The sharp incisors made the smile look a bit ferocious, though that was clearly not the intent. “I’ll be glad to tell it, Sir Knight. The short answer is, I owe Master Tan much. The only thing he asked of me in return was to make sure he didn’t starve to death.”

“He’s a good cook, though?”

“He is. He just doesn’t like to cook for himself. If left to his own devices, he would live off rice and alcohol alone.”

Now, that Devan could believe.

As they approached the parlor, the door stood open, and Devan could clearly hear voices from inside.

“What is raising a dead body?” a female’s light soprano asked, the tone tilting up in curiosity.

“Normal?” an unfamiliar male voice responded.

“Brother dearest, do focus.” That was Tan, sounding exasperated. “That’s not what she meant. She wanted to know if the thing Devan faced was a raised construct from the grave.”

“Ohhhh. That does make more sense. Uh, possibly? I need to ask questions of your slumbering knight.”

Devan mentally braced himself for a very strange conversation even as he breached the doorway.

The parlor was not arrayed as usual. The chairs had been rearranged into more of a circular fashion, there was a spread of food and tea upon the table, and the fire was going for some reason. It was late spring, no call for it, and yet the fire flickered merrily along.

Devan was rather glad for it, truth told. He still felt cold. Probably from yesterday’s blood loss.

Tan’s two siblings were interesting, mostly in the fact that they looked nothing like their younger brother except in the most superficial of ways. The woman huddled in a wing-backed chair, a blanket wrapped around her like a child cuddling in on a cold night. Her black hair was an oily, stringy mess that obscured half her face, skin so pale that Devan wondered if she’d ever seen sunlight in her life.

The man, on the other hand, was crisp and neat from head to toe. His black hair was cut long on top, almost shorn on the sides, his body lean and fit. He was the only one of the three not wearing black of some fashion, but a white poet shirt and buckskin pants tucked into knee-high boots. His face was more angled and narrower than Tan’s, which made Devan wonder which of the siblings took after which parent.

“Darling!” Tan pirouetted to Devan’s side and touched his chest lightly, beaming up into his face. “You look so much better.”

“That’s a very low bar to cross,” Devan retorted. Still, seeing Tan’s open delight brought a smile to his face. The smile tugged at still healing flesh, but at least it didn’t hurt.

“True, but I’m delighted to see you on your feet already. Come, come, meet my siblings and then sit and eat. You need the nourishment. This is my brother, Niran, and my sister, Fa. Everyone, meet my knight. Isn’t he handsome?”

Devan considered refuting the “my” bit. Didn’t feel like wasting his breath.

Niran came right up to him with a hand extended. His eyes swept Devan curiously from head to toe and back again. “Sir Salvino, pleasure. I’ve heard many things about you. Most of them good, which is troubling, but that’s alright. Tan will take you into hand.”

Something about these names were ringing a bell for Devan. He asked cautiously, “By chance, are you Niran the Necromancer?”

“That’s me! Not surprised you’ve heard of me.”

Oh gods. Devan had known Tan’s siblings were also black sorcerers, but he hadn’t gotten names. He’d not made the connection that the Sorcerer of Sol was Tan’s older brother. If that followed, then Fa…

On a hunch, he asked her, “The Black Sorceress of Crila, by chance?”

Fa nodded behind her tea cup. “That’s me.”

So, the three most famous black sorcerers in this generation were all siblings?! Devan wasn’t sure if that explained a lot or…no, truly, what was it about that family’s genetics that they could produce such magical powerhouses?

Niran had his own question to ask. “Say, your posture looks rather good. How’s your spine?”

What was he supposed to make of this inquiry? Devan canted his head in puzzlement, mouth open to answer, although he wasn’t sure what he would say.

Tan shook a finger in his brother’s face in stern warning. “No. I told you, Devan’s skeleton is off limits.”

And that was as much as he wanted to know, thanks.

“I admit,” Fa pitched in from her chair, “I don’t normally foresee where our conversations are headed, but skeleton embezzlement I did not see coming.”

“What embezzlement?” Niran demanded in outrage.

It was in this moment Devan remembered a key detail. Necromancers built their spells off the spine of the deceased. In other words, Niran was interested in his corpse?

A full body shudder wracked him from head to toe. Ugh, fuck no.

Tan patted him reassuringly on the chest. “It’s alright, love, no one will have access to your corpse but me.”

It was bad that Devan actually did feel relief at that.

“I have perfectly legal contracts for skeletal procurement! It’s not like I kill people to get their skeletons!” Niran protested, bouncing between both siblings. “I don’t want people to die. Usually. Life gets a little slow sometimes.”

Devan chose to focus on food. Food was safer. Food was sane. Frankly, he needed to keep his strength up if he was to survive this conversation. He steered himself toward the table and grabbed a plate. Tan intercepted him and made him sit, taking the plate for him and filling it with a selection.

Fa unwound herself enough to pour a cup of tea and hand it to him.

Devan took it, still not sure what to make of her. “Thank you.”

It was like looking at a swamp witch who had dried out. Her stringy hair had actual sticks in it, clothes hanging on her like she’d grabbed something out of a rubbish bin and hit it with a cleaning spell before putting it on. She did not, in any sense, look like a famous black sorceress.

“You’re really so pretty,” she murmured happily. “Just as Tan said. I’m glad I came to help.”

Pretty was not normally how people described him.… You know what, Devan would let that one go, too. Although he was sticking next to Tan. He didn’t like that both older siblings seemed interested in his body, even if for different reasons.