"You saw through it, you narcissistic human."
If the book spirit hadn't said that, Annan could have basked in his triumph a little longer.
A Lich nearby struck up a conversation. "I'm Varal."
"Annan." Annan always responded kindly to those who showed him goodwill.
They left the Third Tomb together and followed the stairs deep into the Land of Decay.
"Do you know where we are?" Annan asked.
"You don't?"
"I'm only here to deliver a letter."
Soulfire flickered in the Lich's eye sockets. "The Skeleton Duke is recruiting intelligent Undead, so I came."
As they reached the last of the Steps, a vast Tomb Hall opened before them.
A Maggot as plump as a lamb wriggled toward them.
"Welcome to the gathering of gifted Undying!" The Maggot's theatrical delivery reminded Annan of a Bard. It turned its attention to him. "But why aren't you Undying?"
"I'm an Envoy of the Vampire Clan. I've come to deliver a letter to the Skeleton Duke."
The Maggot looked Annan over. "Oh. Follow me. And you, noble Lich—would you rather revel with the other Undying or attend the Liches' gathering?"
"Which is more fun?"
"The Undying revel, of course! Liches are a bunch of mutes who do nothing but read in silence!"
The Lich wasn't offended in the slightest. In fact, he heartily agreed. "I'll take the first one. See you next time, Annan."
"See you."
Annan watched the Lich in his Mage Robe walk in the direction the Maggot had indicated.
Liches were dead Spellcasters who had returned for one reason or another. Or, more precisely, been reborn. Some truly came back as Undead; in others, a new consciousness arose in a dead body and happened to inherit all its memories.
But the two were hard to tell apart, even for the