Ward Against Death (26 page)

“What for?” she asked, spinning to face him.

He shrugged, walking past her toward the stairs. He needed to stay calm and remember he could be wrong, that Celia might not be a cold-blooded murderer trying to become the perfect killer. Goddess, he’d almost slept with her.

“There are other herbs, poisons, that I can test for. Maybe we’ll be able to discover how you were murdered, too.”

“I think I would’ve noticed if I’d been slipped something.”

“I’m sure you would.” He forced himself to look back at her. “But just humor me. In the very least, we can rule those kinds of poisons out.”

She sighed. “Fine. As long as you don’t get in my way.”

He raised his good hand in mock defense. “I’d never think of it.”

TWENTY-NINE

Ward followed Celia out of the sewers to the other side of the prince’s palace, where they emerged from the mountain onto a thin path. The path wound around the steep side of the volcano to the Holy City of Veknormai. It was dawn when they reached the edge of the cemetery. Pale pink clouds scuttled across a blue sky pierced by golden beams of light. Before them, reflecting white, blue, and gold, stood a white obelisk proclaiming the south entrance to the Holy City.

Celia stepped into its long shadow and sat. She opened her rucksack, pulled out aRompace="n apple, looked at him with narrow eyes, and pulled out another. “Breakfast?”

The sun broke free of the clouds, drawing a sharp line between the daylight and the shadow, painting Celia as a midnight creature, cowering in the only darkness she could find.

And then the moment was gone. The contrast between shadow and sunlight disappeared behind downy clouds and the nobleman’s daughter, with her sculpted features and perfect skin, returned. He pushed away the memory of her hands on him.

“I supposed you can always eat while we walk,” she said.

“No. I was just...” He suppressed a shiver and crossed the threshold into the shadow. Goddess help him if Celia was trying to become the shadow walker. “I was just thinking. I should probably get your blood.”

“Fine. How do you want it?”

He rummaged through his pack until he found a piece of parchment. “Just prick your finger and put a little on here.”

She unsheathed her dagger and pricked her finger, squeezing the tip. He watched the blood swell and drip onto the parchment. If she had ibria in her, the sunlight and blood would react with the herb and turn it into crystals.

She held out the parchment and the apple. He took both, afraid to make eye contact, his mind jumping between all the “what ifs” he could think of, while worrying about those he couldn’t. Regardless, he couldn’t devise a plan that wouldn’t end in his death or severe disfigurement.

He folded the parchment into a packet and forced himself to look at her. Without a word Celia stood, indicating she was ready to continue, and Ward followed. He wished he were back at school, or even still incarcerated in Wildenmere. At least there they believed it was bad luck to kill a necromancer.

They reached the first of the mausoleums, and Celia pulled a few loose pages from her rucksack. Ward leaned against a tombstone, waiting for instructions. He was sure she had some. She always did. But instead, she gazed across the landscape and adjusted her bag.

“It should be here.”
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Maybe he should offer to help. No. That would involve a conversation consisting of more than a handful of words while she explained what she was after, and he wasn’t sure he was up for that. He doubted she’d take his offer the way he intended, and if she was trying to become the shadow walker, he didn’t really want to help her.

She headed down a wide gravel path, disappearing from sight as it curved around a massive structure.

§

By noon, Ward still waited, and Celia still hadn’t found what she was looking for. The sun shone with blinding brightness against the white marble, reminding Ward of the last time he’d been here. He’d been at the very top where it wasn’t so steep. Now, he could see the writhing white and turquoise of the bay. He found it strange that the Ancients would call a cemetery a city, although he supposed the justification came from the perspective that, even if they were dead, they were still residents. Ward, however, knew differently. No one resided in a cemetery. It was just a place to stow a body. Once dead, the soul crossed the veil and lived in the heart of the Goddess.

Celia stepped onto the path before him, her back to him.

“Are you sure it’s here?” Ward asked. “Whatever it is,” he added under his breath.

“The page said the lower half on the southern side.” She seemed more frustrated than angry.

“How far down have you gone?”

“All over. The page says the map is inside. That means I can eliminate anything that’s too small or doesn’t have a door, and still...”

“Map?”

“Yes.” She shoved the parchment into his hands, jarring his tender arm. On it were the four joined rings and Nicco’s uneven writing.

“A map.” She yanked the page back. “‘The light, like that of the sun, will show the way to the Tomb of Souls.’ Which means there’s a map somewhere. Because sunlight has to shine on only a part of it, the first logical conclusion is that it’s in a tomb in Veknormai.”

It didn’t seem like there were any logical conclusions, let alone a first one. Regardless, he couldn’t let her find the Tomb of Souls and the last step of her transformation into the shadow walker. He flushed and wiped the sweat from his palms down the front of his pants, making his wounded arm burn at the sudden movement. He didn’t know how to get her to stop searching without drawing her suspicion. His best bet was to find the map first and lie about it.

“And the joined spheres—?”

“Are on the door.”

He forced a sigh, and she raised her chin.

“I never asked you to help.”

“Actually,” he said, about to comment on that very first night that started it all, but she didn’t appear to be in a joking mood, and he didn’t feel the need to remind her of his foolishness. “Two sets of eyes are better than one. Besides, the more we wander around in the daylight, the more chance we have of running into someone we’d rather not.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

They searched until the sun sat low on the horizon, a dark red sphere. Ward had finally worked up the nerve to convince Celia to give up when she approached, smiling.

The constant knot in his stomach tightened even more. “I suppose that smile means we’re not going back to the cavern?”

The smile fell away. “No. I just wanted to tell you to sit there and not get lost.”

“You were happy before I said something.”

“That was before I remembered how annoying you are,” she said and marched away.

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The tomb was hidden by an outcropping, a ragged pillar of granite thrust from the side of the mountain. A small pine, struggling for life, pressed against it. Peeking out from one of its few branches, Ward could discern a worn carving of four joined circles.

“I thought I told you to wait.”

Maybe he could just take a peek, see if there really was a map, then run out and start the test. “You’ll need help opening it.”

She pointed to the stone slab, which only half covered the opening, leaving a space wide enough for her to enter.

“Fine.” It served him right for thinking too much and not paying attention. Now he had to come up with something else, but he couldn’t make his mind work fast enough. “Maybe I’m just curious. I could help you translate some of the writing.”

“Have you figured out the journal yet?”

He bit his lip. If he said yes, he’d have to tell her what he’d discovered, and if she was trying to become the shadow walker, would that make her want to dispose of him? He couldn’t risk it. “No.”

“Then why would you think you could translate Ancient?” She glared at him and put one hand on her hip and the other on the pommel of her dagger. “I’d rather be alone.”

Ward inched back, not wanting a confrontation until he knew her intentions. If she wasn’t trying to become the shadow walker, it wouldn’t matter if she knew the location of the Tomb. And if she was... he could always stop her before the Contraluxis.

“Sure,” he said.

A slight smile pulled at her lips, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She turned and slipped past the heavy marble door into the tomb.

Ward swallowed the lump in his throat. He needed to be more careful. After last night, he didn’t know how she felt about him, but it seemed whatever had been between them was lost. Resigning himself to that fact, he climbed the steep path back into the dying rays of sunshine. At least he could finish his test.

Finding a chest-high monument—a long, marble coffin—he climbed onto it and sat, his legs hanging over the edge. Before him was a perfect sunset, lighting up the peaks of the Red Mountains against an azure sky. It felt as if a lifetime had passed since he’d sat and watched the sun travel its course.

He pulled himself from his reverie, reached into his rucksack, and removed the two folded pieces of parchment containing Solartti’s and Celia’s blood. He brushed the dust from the surface of the tomb and unfolded each parchment to wait for the last rays of the sun to crystallize the blood. Then he took the journal from his rucksack and opened it. There were only a few more entries left to read, and if he couldn’t watch Celia in the tomb, he might as well have all the other information he could find.

In the remaining entries, the Dominus—Celia’s father—described the fruit of a months-long, systematic search of Veknormai, resulting in the discovery of the Tomb of Souls, but it didn’t specify its location.

Ward leaned forward, casting his shadow across the journal, making it difficult to read. He shifted so the sun once again lit the text.

With luck this would prove Celia was innocent of the whole scheme. If her father knew the location of the Tomb of Souls there was no need for her to find a map that would lead her there. Of course, her blood would offer definitive proof, but he still had to wait a little longer. And really, all her blood would prove was that her father intended to create this shadow walker and had the means to do so. It didn’t disprove that Celia sought the same goal on her own to make her father happy.

Damn, and he thought Calbournians wove complicated sleuth-stories. If he had a big blank wall and some chalk—not to mention a couple of days—he might be able to unravel all the threads. Although he still didn’t know anything for certain.

He glanced at the parchments, but couldn’t tell if miniscule crystals had formed or not. Maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him. If the crystals were present and had started to grow, they’d be visible soon. He just didn’t want to wait. Celia could be, at that very moment, discovering the location of the Tomb of Souls. In the very least, he should be there with her so he’d know as well.