"Ghosts From An Enchanter Fleeing" by Steven Piziks, is another strong entry. It's a coming of age story of Terrin, a young woman apprenticing in the upper-class home of a necromancer. In one long night, she suffers a series of realizations about the world around her and her assumptions about the way the people live in it, both living and dead.
"The head of the household is Mother, though there seems to be no blood relationship between them. Mother ritually killed and revived Terrin at some point in the past, and Terrin's second life is what gives her power over the spirit world. Mother is throwing a party, and the house is filled with ghostly servants setting out food and decorations while the living servants work outside in the daylight. There is no distinction for Mother--the lower classes serve when they're alive and after death--and Terrin has no reason to question those assumptions.
"Steven Piziks' style is elegant and invisible right up to the very end, when Terrin leaves Mother's lavish home to bind the ghost of one of her servants into slavery. When she sees the body, she discovers that it's the groom she met that afternoon. She had been attracted to him and had thought of him as "her groom." But the young man has left a widow and grieving family, and Terrin realizes he was never hers at all, and maybe no one is. And when the widow screams at Terrin and calls her a monster, she (and we) know that it is not because Terrin is undead. A beautiful story."--Harry James Connolly, Tangent Online (Learn more about Tangent Online, the Internet's leading SF&F short fiction review website)
Terrin yelped and shoved her fingers into her mouth before her mother's lightning-fast knuckles could strike again. The ghosts surrounding the table rippled with silent laughter.
"And see that you stay out of them," Mother growled. "I won't have Cook serve puffcakes to my guests with your fingerprints all over them."
"But Mother--" Terrin began.
"You can have something from Cook's flop plate if your stomach is growling," Mother said. "And mind your dress."
Turning toward the flop plate, Terrin caught Cook trying not to laugh. She flushed and hurried out of the kitchen, towing her three personal ghosts with her. How could Mother? Scolding her in front of the help like she was a scullery maid and not a full necromancer.
Well, she amended to be fair, not a full necromancer. Not until I'm seventeen. Two whole years!
Terrin sighed as she entered the dining room, then ducked as a set of wine glasses whizzed past her head toward the long serving table. One of Elise's ghosts waved a meek apology and set the glasses in a careful pattern on the table. Ectoplasm swirled about the room as other ghosts arranged silverware, set up the buffet, and put fresh candles in the chandelier. Elise stood in the center of it all, a frazzled look on her face.
"Elise," Terrin said, and her sister turned around. "Do watch what your ghosts are doing. That one almost smashed me in the forehead."
"Hmmp." Elise blew a lock of brown hair off her face and put her hands on her hips. "If you're so frightened of flying glass, Terrin, why don't you make yourself useful and see if the grooms have got the nightmare corral set up in the right place? It's too bright out there for the ghosts to give it a proper job."
Terrin was about to object, then realized that dealing with workers was something Elise would never have asked her to do a year ago. So she nodded, caught up a pastry from the buffet, and dashed out the door before Elise could protest.
Her ghosts faded into near-nothingness when Terrin stepped outside, and they fled back into the mansion the moment she took her mind off them. Terrin blinked reproachfully up at the clear sky and warm, bright sun. She couldn't understand why Mother insisted on starting her parties before sundown. It was hard enough to get ghosts to do their bidding at night, let alone during full daylight. Mother and Elise were two of the few necromancers who could manage it. And Terrin, of course.
Maybe Mother's showing off, Terrin thought whimsically, taking a sweet bite of sticky pastry. Then she paused. Was Mother showing off? Was that the idea behind these parties? Terrin frowned--the possibility disturbed her. Why would Mother have to show off?
A loud curse caught her attention and she looked out across the lawn. Half a dozen grooms were gathered around and in the temporary corral set up for Mother's nightmares, a perfectly matched herd of thirteen spotlessly black horses. Not even the Royal Family had such fine horses, and Mother always put them out on display so her guests could admire them.
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