Son of a Liche (The Dark Profit Saga, #2)

by J. Zachary Pike

It has been said that necessity is the mother of invention. In the same vein, desperation is the father of compromise, panic is the sister of slapdash improvisation, and despair is the second cousin of quiet apathy. By that reckoning, dinner was a dismal family reunion.

The exact ratio of irony to matter in the universe is known as Nove’s Constant, and by definition it’s more than you’d expect.

But I lived those stories, and I know better than anyone that history is nothing but the collected lies society tells itself.

“It doesn’t matter what we were. All that matters is who we are going forward.”

Truly, nothing is better than to crush your competition, to drive down their profit margins, to hear the lamentations of their sales representatives.

Nove’s second principle was a straightforward equation, using Nove’s Constant to show that the likelihood of an unfortunate event is directly proportional to the anticipation for whatever the misfortune would disrupt. In layman’s terms, the more people looked forward to something, the more likely that tragic circumstances will prevent it. This principle was famously reinforced when Nove’s experiments designed to demonstrate it failed on stage at the Academy of Essenpi, simultaneously proving and failing to prove the philosopher’s point.

Jorruk once told a young Asherzu that a weak mind is a malleable one. Once it is convinced it has been lied to, it begins to lie to itself. Once persuaded that it is hated, it becomes hateful. Once made to fear violence, it becomes violent.

The tome bounced off the far wall with a deep thud. Gorm waved a frustrated hand at the prone book; as far as he could see, Niln’s scriptures were only useful for projectile therapy.

Panic is like a fire. It starts with a spark, and if it’s not snuffed out, it spreads quickly. Fear is driven by winds of gossip wherever nervous minds and an uncertain future provide fuel. Terror is as swift and damaging as any blaze. And all of these things, as real and present as they are, exist only within the confines of peoples’ minds. Just like markets. And value. And security.

The huge patron sounded reflective, or at least shiny.

“Nobody is above the law!” Baggs shrugged and sipped his wine. “Perhaps, but with enough money you can usually get out from under it.”

There is not always a light at the end of the tunnel. That is why you must carry a torch.

“Trust me, wizard, I’ve been more rich and famous than you’ve dreamt of, and all it ever made me feel was pain and fear of losing it. Success and status are a gilded cage. But when you let go of those things, or life takes them from you, the expectations don’t matter anymore. Strip it all away, and nothing can hurt you. You lose the fear.”

“People move mountains, but words move people,” said Asherzu. “Such is the way of persuasive selling. My father showed me its power, and now I shall sell the world a vision.”

“That’s right! Zombie bankers!” A flaming skull floated along beside the ghastly businessmen, howling like a hellish carnival barker. “Which is more terrifying: their eternal hunger for the flesh of the living? Or their reckless fiscal irresponsibility? No, seriously. Your input is valuable!”