The Frostwoven Crown (Book 4) Read Online Free PDF Page A

creator's permission."
    "Yeah."
    "Well, as you might have noticed, zombies are very susceptible to suggestion," Uncle Tinjin said, "If you tell them to do something, as long as the command isn't too complex, they will attempt to do that thing, even if it means their destruction. It seems to work, even if you have created a zombie from an animal or from a human who did not, in life, speak your language. We believe it has something to do with the intent of the speaker more so than the auditory receptiveness of the undead."
    Garrett frowned. "Then why don't the Chadiri just say Hey, stop killing us! when our zombies attack?"
    Uncle Tinjin laughed. "That's precisely what did happen when the sisterhood tried to use conscripted zombies to fight them, early in the war. Why do you think they need necromancers to lead the army now?"
    "I dunno. To raise more dead guys on the spot?" Garrett asked.
    Uncle nodded. "That, and to command them."
    "What do you mean?"
    "This is a situation in which a necromancer is an indispensable asset on the battlefield," Tinjin said, "A skilled necromancer can issue what amounts to an irresistible command. If a necromancer tells a zombie under his command to kill his enemy, the zombie will do so, ignoring all commands to the contrary."
    "What if two necromancers were fighting?" Garrett asked.
    "That doesn't happen very often," Tinjin chuckled, "We are usually on the same side. When it does though, the necromancer more intimately attuned to the undead in question will usually win out."
    "Huh?"
    "For example, if you created the zombie, or if you have commanded the zombie for some time, it can be considered yours , and it would be very difficult for another necromancer to assert his will over yours in the zombie's direction. I'll teach you more about it when we have time, but for now... here we are."
    They stopped in the street before a shadowy, windowless storefront. The sign above the large mahogany door read simply Fine Clothing , a line repeated below in several different languages. Uncle Tinjin rapped his knuckles lightly on the door, and, a moment later, it swung open, and the two of them stepped inside.
    A thick gloom hung over the interior of the shop, and Garrett's eyes strained to make out any details of the room as the door swung shut behind them. Of whomever had opened and closed the door, he saw only a pale gray shape out of the corner of his eye that quickly disappeared around the counter with a soft, scurrying sound before he could get a clear look at it.
    The only illumination came from a small gas lamp atop the low counter that burned with a dim red flame. Garrett heard the scurrying sound again, and then a metallic squeak and a low hiss as the lamp flared to a yellowish brightness. Garrett saw a long rack of silken garments in a variety of colors along the wall opposite the counter, and very little else besides a black door, graven with hexagonal runes in the far wall. The furtive noises from behind the counter receded into the distance as though whatever it was had retreated through some unseen passageway. Uncle Tinjin seemed unconcerned and waited patiently without a word.
    Garrett leaned close to Uncle Tinjin and whispered, "Is the tailor a vampire?"
    Tinjin smiled. "Very perceptive, Garrett," he whispered back.
    Just then, the black door creaked open, and a thin, well-dressed vampire stepped into the room. He was about to button up the high collar of his dark gray jacket, but, when he saw Uncle Tinjin, he let the collar fall open, revealing his fanged grin. "Tinjin!" he said, "I haven't seen you in ages!"
    Uncle Tinjin crossed his hands over his chest, bowing slightly in the formal greeting of vampires, but the tailor had already crossed the room in three quick strides, his arms wide. The two shared a brief hug.
    "It's good to see you Jannis," Tinjin said with a smile.
    "Let me look at you," Jannis said, holding Tinjin at arm's length. The vampire tilted his head, letting his long, dark