It is commonly said that magic is neither good nor evil, that it transcends the moral criteria of men, that it depends on the mage whether it will be used for worthy goals or for shameful and immoral deeds. There is, however, one key exception to this principle - necromancy.
Proponents of this branch of magic once supposed that one can also do good by reviving corpses. Dead men can, after all, hide secrets which may save the living. It is better to send an army of reanimated corpses into battle than to squander the life of those in whose veins hot blood still flows. Moreover, a revived soldier may be reused many times, until such members are chopped off so as to make his flesh unusable.
Though it is hard to refute the logic of these arguments, the practice of necromancy is still forbidden. This is not at all based on the rabble's superstitions about the living dead, nor the resistance of the powerful afraid those they have murdered could be forced to confess against them, nor the moral scruples of the older members of the Conclave, who were, in fact, laughed down as reactionaries when it was discussed. The fate of necromancy was sealed by the observation of Hen Gedymdeith, which was later confirmed by manifold experiences proving the revived dead are always unpredictable and reviving them always involves entirely negative side effects. In other words, no matter how noble a mage's motives might be, necromancy will always lead to evil. It seems that in this way the gods let us know that we should not transgress the laws they have given us. And even the Conclave must respect the will of the gods.