"Finally! I thought I''d have to sit and look at that tree forever!"

    Urt bent down and picked up Horace. The zombie didn''t seem to be any the worse for wear, although the bar was set pretty low in that area. He plucked a twig out the scraggy hair and held the unhead before him.

    "Sorry, lost my temper there," he said.

    "I wouldn''t have guessed," Horace replied. "What with all the cursing and explosions and howling and all."

    "But you could have been killed. Again I mean."

    "Boss, as far as I''m concerned that little show just proved to me you are a master necromancer. As a creature of the dark, you really had no other choice."

    Urt smiled. "Yes, well. Maybe you''re right." He took a deep breath and put Horace in his special sling so he could have his hands free whilst travelling.

    "I see the little one survived too," Horace said, noting Lucy waiting a little way off.

    "Yes, I sent her to get something before I started the… spell."

    "So, where are we going now then? I think I saw the bed fly past me when I was in the air, so I''m ?ssuming the hut is gone."

    "I''ve decided to leave the swamp," Urt said, plodding along a narrow mud path. "I have to seek out another necromancer, or some kind of wizard doctor. There has to be some reason why I can''t raise the dead."

    "Finally, we get to see the world."

    "Well Mudrut anyway," Urt said.

    "Mudrut? Why there? What about somewhere more exciting?"

    "One, it''s closest," said Urt, ticking off the points on his fingers. "Two, it''s the only place I know."

    "Oh. Fair point."

    "Anyway, depending on what we find after that, perhaps it''s time to relocate. Travel broadens the mind, so old Mangle used to say."

    "So why did he live in a marsh then?" Horace asked.

    Urt shrugged. "No idea. Maybe he was just looking after me. I mean, he always told me of other places, so he must have come from somewhere else, plus he would disappear for days, even weeks at a time on occasion."

    They travelled on in silence after that, heading back to the village Urt had always seen from a distance, but never entered. Mangle had always been the one to visit there, on the rare occasion they needed something. Apart from the odd item of clothing, or item for magical preparation, the swamp provided all they required.

    "Any ideas on how we''re going to find another necromancer?" asked Urt of Horace, when they were closer.

    "Can''t you just ask someone?"

    "I don''t think that''s how it''s done."

    "Why not?" said Horace.

    "I don''t know." Urt shrugged. "It just doesn''t seem to be the thing to say. Hello there, do you know where I can get the dead raised? They may get the wrong idea."

    "Bah, the living are so repressed. No offence intended."

    "I share your view in this one instance."

    "I mean," Horace continued. "There''s nothing unusual in raising the dead. It''s as nature intended."

    "I''m not sure I''d go that far," Urt said, cautiously. He looked back at Lucy, who was walking steadily behind him. "Did you live in Mudrut?" he asked her.

    "I can''t remember master."

    "Do you know if they have any necromancers in the village?"

    "What''s a necromancer master?"

    "I''m beginning to agree with your theory about why they left her behind," Urt said to Horace. "Still, we''d better be cautious. You''ll have to go in my pack I''m afraid."

    "Oh come on boss! I hate it in there! It''s all dark and musty smelling."

    "Firstly, you''re dead; dark is your thing. Secondly, the musty smell is actually you, and musty is rather a generous description at that."

    "Well I can''t see out," grumbled the head. "You know how I enjoy travelling, seeing new places, meeting different people, and then eating them."

    "When have we ever travelled? Except for here?" Urt made a sweeping gesture with his arm, encompassing what passed for scenery in the marsh.

    "A head can dream can''t it?"

    Urt sighed. "I''ll see how things go alright? If it looks like there are necromancers every second house, you can come out and enjoy the sights. Otherwise, caution is our watchword. Until I can raise an army of the dead to conquer all I survey, I''m just like any other human being. Except obviously superior."

    "Yes boss."

    "Good, glad we have that settled, because we''re close. You need to go into the pack now." He stopped and shed the backpack he''d recovered from the wreckage of his former dwelling. Opening it, he plucked Horace from his sling and shoved him into the bag.

    "Hey, careful there!" the zombie complained. "I want to go in the right way up at least."

    "And be quiet!" Urt admonished, pulling the drawstring tight.

    "Ug," came Horace''s muffled voice. "It''s all stuffy in here! I can''t breathe even."

    "You don''t breathe, you''re dead. Now, no more speaking until we''re in the clear, is that understood? That''s an order."

    "Yes boss."

    Nodding, Urt shouldered the backpack again and then turned to his other zombie companion.

    "Lucy, you need to remain here until I come back or send for you." He scanned the area and pointed at a witchwart plant. "Go behind that bush and hide until then."

    "Yes master." The child undead did as she was told.

    "Nice to have an obedient servant for a change," muttered Urt, resuming his journey into the village.

    Urt walked a little way around Mudrut, onto the narrow road that led towards the dwellings. It wouldn''t be good to raise suspicion by walking out of the marshes. Even the road was risky, considering he didn''t know where it led.

    ''So this was civilization!'' he thought, altering course to avoid the trench down the centre of the road, that obviously served to transport waste away. ''The hurly and burly of village life.''

    The few people on the road paid him little attention as he sauntered along, but he had trouble doing the same. He''d never been in such a crowded place.

    "There must be nearly a dozen people here!" he hissed back at Horace, itching to share his discovery with someone.

    Finally he stopped and examined the buildings. He was standing in what seemed to be the busy part of the town. Several glass fronted houses appeared to be displaying goods. These must be the stores that Mangle had spoken of. They had names over the windows. One was a ''grocers'', another an ''ironmonger'' and still a third was a ''general store''.

    Right in the middle of this bustling metropolis were two larger structures. One was called the Goose Inn, and the other the Traveller''s tavern. The Goose Inn seemed to be a swankier affair. Sometime in the past it had been painted red and white, though these colours had now faded. The tavern was what the term ''rustic'' probably was designed for, Urt decided.

    He looked up. The sky, never bright, was turning gloomier. Night was coming and he was tired. Mangle had told him about money of course, and he''d managed to retrieve his old master''s pouch, which contained a small selection of gold coins and some gems of unknown value.

    Urt pondered his choices.

    "Let''s start small," he said to himself, and wandered over to the grocery. The place was not large, and appeared rather weather-worn, but it appeared to be open at least. Piles of potatoes and carrots were stacked in boxes and barrels around the entrance.

    Ignoring the merchandise, Urt entered, finding himself in a crowded and slightly strange smelling place cluttered with fruit and vegetables of all kinds. Behind a small counter at the back of the shop stood an elderly man wearing a grey tunic and brown leather apron. His face was wrinkled, and Urt had seen cleaner hair on the dead.

    "Evening," the man said, pleasantly enough.

    Encouraged by the civility, Urt nodded in way of greeting. He wandered over to the shop keep, stopping to poke at a sack of apples along the way, for the look of the thing.

    "You must be new in town. Welcome to Mudrut," the man said, frowning at Urt''s casual treatment of his produce.

    "Yes, that''s me, new here." Urt nodded again and leaned casually against the counter. "How are you today?"

    "I''m fine. Business is a little slow, if you see what I mean."

    Urt ignored the sales pitch. "So then. Seems a nice little village you have here. Any necromancers about?"

    The man raised his eyebrows, evidently surprised at the unexpected turn the small-talk had taken. Still, he recovered well. "Necromancers you say? Well, there''s rumours of an evil mage living right here, in Mudrut swamp if you must know."

    Urt raised his eyebrows in alarm. They knew!