He was dead.

      Well… not exactly.

     As far as others were concerned, Bader was dead.  No one was certain, but they knew.  They had all watched as he hung, when his kicking feet had gone limp.  They saw the executioner’s knife pierce Bader’s naked torso and sink deep into his gut.  He hadn’t even twitched.  It was a standard execution.  Hung from the neck and stabbed in the stomach to make sure.  And then, if all else had failed, the body was cremated.  That man was dead and no unnatural power could restore his broken body.

      But, who was to say that man actually was Bader? After all, the traitor had many followers and many who claimed to be him.  When the King had ordered the execution and signed his confidence that the prisoner was Bader, none had thought to question him.  What the King said was.  No one knew any different.  And no one ever would.  Bader was dead, so said the King.  And so it was, and there was never a second thought about the traitor.

      Just according to plan.