* * *
Maliar carefully painted sigils in frankincense oil on the linen-wrapped shar. The Book of Chaos lay open next to her, unpleasant stains marring its pages. The text was clearly visible, even under the dried blood and other liquids.
The old anubite hadn't approved of her taking the body from the Underworld, but she had helped destroy the Devourer of Souls. He knew he couldn't stand against her. Instead, he demanded that she learn the rituals and lore of an anubite priest-mage - how to prepare the dead for their afterlife. He showed her how to mummify a creature, which spells to lay on the corpse to ensure the soul reached the Judge safely, how to perform the rituals that also allowed a soul to reach the Judge safely, and many other spells that were unique to the anubites.
The spells that would be of most use to her were those dealing in the souls of the dead. She couldn't summon one back that had been already Judged, but the soul she wished to work with had not passed from life yet. It merely floated in the eternal blueness of its container.
Besides, Aboreal could do such a thing with his druidic magics.
The lore of the afterlife carefully built up for the Trials intrigued her. Only the creatures of the trial planes entered the Necropolis as souls to be judged. However, there was evidence that this was a shoddy reflection of the actual process - souls truly were Judged and placed beyond the reach of all but a few after death. This information, together with what she gleaned from the Book of Chaos and her other researches, presented an interesting view of the universe.
Not a terribly useful one yet - it was too broad and too vague. She had only the barest glimmering of what it all meant; she hadn't even realized it meant anything until Venadin gifted her with both the Book of Chaos and the Siabrian Arcane Methods manual.
Now, though, the shar's body lay on her workshop table. She had already scribed an account of everything she had learned from the anubite- tomorrow she would duplicate it and disperse copies to various caches. She would not lose this knowledge, anymore than she would lose any other part of her library. The stories of all that was lost with the creation of the Veil had reverbated with her.
Maliar dipped the setian-hair brush into the oil and painted another symbol on the bandages. The symbols would provide an excellent basis for further experimentation. She couldn't hope to fulfill all of her whimsies for this body, but some of the plans she had....
Well, those would be less difficult.
The blue gem on her cloak clasp caught the light briefly, sparkling.