Magus Valthorne didn't know if he should laugh or cry that she was actually giving him a magical lesson, but she was right in a way.
One of his weaknesses was splitting his power between different undead, but that was something he could easily fix. Necromancers needed bodies to create undead, and getting bodies, quality bodies, wasn't an easy thing.
But it wasn't the time to start that sort of argument with Magus Sylrissa.
With a mental command, the black puddle on his body hardened, turning glass-like. The fairy on his shoulder emitted a golden radiance, and he disappeared, although his voice was still sounding from the same place.
"Why are you really helping them? I know you don't work for anyone, Magus Sylrissa. So why? The Eboncrypt would pay you double the price of what they've been paying you!"
Magus Sylrissa raised her brow. "Impressive technique you've whipped up there. I can't even feel you. How unusual. I thought you necromancers hated getting physical?"
