Heherson brightened up considerably, despite the bat. “Irish! You’re here!”
Irish pointed the bat at him. “You stay back. Tim?”
Tim took a breath. “Nah, it’s fine, Ai. It’s not him.”
Actually, that wasn’t fine at all. Tim didn’t know what to do.
Heherson did keep his distance, but he didn’t seem phased by Irish’s temper. “You did come to see me! I thought so. Did you want a drink? I have some jade tea still, if you-”
“I’m not here for your bullshit!” Irish exclaimed. “What do you mean it’s not him?”
Tim shrugged. “It’s not him. There’s nothing else to say about it than that. He didn’t do it. I was wrong.”
“How can you be wrong?” she demanded. “You two are the only necromancers in all of Saltdale! If someone’s doing necromancy, it can only be you two!”
“Well, that’s not true, right?” Both Tim and Irish looked over at Heherson, who obliviously continued on as if he had been allowed into the conversation. “We’re the only two registered ones. Someone could always not be registered.”
“That doesn’t make sense.” Being born a necromancer wasn’t something that could be hidden from the state. Which meant the moment you were born, you were always watched. If he had to think about that too, that could have been another reason he hadn’t wanted to learn anything about it. But that would have required him understanding the concept at a young age. The age when he had already decided he was uninterested.