Ward Against Death

by Melanie Card

  Celia stepped into its long shadow and sat. She opened her rucksack, pulled out an 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.”

  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.

  If she had found the tomb, she might be able to decipher the map, bringing her closer to her goal. But he didn’t know that for certain, and if he didn’t begin the test on her blood now, he’d have to wait another day. He couldn’t decide what was more important, her intention or the map. He hurried after her, not letting her out of his sight, his mind whirling.

  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.

  And then what?

  He ground his teeth. He couldn’t confront her. She’d just kill him. Any friendship or understanding between them wouldn’t be enough to stop her. She’d probably smile through the whole thing, and that would be the last thing he’d ever see. A manic smile on her beautiful face.

  Regardless, he had to do something. He’d just have to figure out what that was when the time came. If only they’d run into the Master of the Assassins’ Guild. That might solve the problem. It was a strange day indeed if that was his most desperate wish. Unless, of course, the Master wanted to become the shadow walker as well. Which would only make the matter worse.

  Ward grabbed the parchments beside him and held them in the sunlight. Pale green flecks had formed in both samples. Celia had taken ibria, and the only explanation was to become the shadow walker. It also meant that whoever had given Solartti the herb, knew it would kill him. Which, he supposed, made sense. They had seen Karysa when they’d run off with his body. Unless Solartti also knew about the shadow walker and was trying to become it as well and didn’t know that ibria, charlatous, and zephnyr oil was a deadly combination.

  This was ridiculous. He could speculate all day and still not have any answers. He folded the parchments, shoved them into his rucksack, and headed back to the tomb.

  Celia emerged from behind the stone slab that had covered the entrance, brushing dust and cobwebs from her dress. Her brow was creased and her mouth set in a hard line. Her frown deepened when she saw Ward.

  He forced a calm expression and held back his relief. An unlucky Celia meant a very lucky him. “No luck?”

  “On the contrary.”

  His stomach clenched and a shiver raced up his spine even though the late rays of a perfect summer afternoon warmed him. “You don’t look happy.”

  She glowered at him and climbed up the steep path. “That’s my thinking face.”

  “Oh.”

  “I found the map. I just need to reconfirm with the notes I left back in the cavern.”

  “Well, maybe if I look at the map I can help you.”

  “No.”

  “But—”

  “I know where the tomb is. I don’t need your help.” She huffed and strode away.

  Ward glanced back at the tomb, then scrambled after her. He didn’t want to get lost in Veknormai, nor did he want to raise her suspicions—not until he figured out what to do. He’d just have to do it before the Contraluxis tomorrow night.

  THIRTY

  Celia sat in a dark hallway on the second ring, watching the stairs leading to the only way out Ward knew about, and waiting to see what she’d set in motion. If Ward really was working for her father or the Master, surely the location of the Tomb of Souls and the Nectar of Veknormai—whatever it was—was significant enough to warrant a trip to his contact. If he wasn’t working for them, she’d spend the night sitting on the floor and know she could still trust him.

  Unless they didn’t really care about Nicco’s research or Ward suspected she knew about his betrayal. She wished his seduction had been a success, and yet a part of her was glad it hadn’t. She’d gotten too close as it was.

  Still, she was missing valuable information, like the truth about Ward, even the truth about her murder. Missing details made her twitchy. There were too many variables she couldn’t account for, and that was dangerous. If she’d been thinking, she would have asked Ward about his test on her and Solartti’s blood. She’d wanted to, but the curiosity would be in contradiction to her previous behavior and she didn’t want to alarm him. In truth, she didn’t need to know who had killed Solartti or herself. It was the leaders of the Underworld: her father, the Master, and Bakmeire.

  No more wavering. She needed to do what she needed to do.

  First, though, she had to catch Ward and dispose of him before she gave something away, something bigger than her secret haunt. And it had to be something bigger, something to do with Nicco’s research, or they wouldn’t have hired Ward to wake her. She just couldn’t figure out what that was.

  The soft shuffling of feet along the ring drew her attention, and she peeked out of the shadows into the gallery. As expected, Ward, his rucksack slung over his shoulder, made his way to the stairs.

  She let him pass, waiting for him to climb out of sight. Then she followed, lying low to the steps until she could see the floor of the first ring.

  He set his rucksack down and pulled on a boot.

  Her blood rushed in her ears and an ache grew in her gut, spreading to her chest and accentuating each beat of her heart. He couldn’t have betrayed her. She wanted him to be innocent, compassionate Ward, to be as perfect and blessed as his hands. Yet the evidence could not be disputed. He was putting on his boots to betray more of her secrets to the very people who had murdered her.

  He pulled on his other boot and straightened.

  She reached for the dagger at her hip. This time she wouldn’t miss and she wouldn’t stitch him back up. She’d stand there and watch him bleed.

  “Where are you going, Ward?” she asked, standing, her arms crossed so her right hand could rest on the hilt of her dagger without appearing obvious.

  He swallowed and ran his hands down the front of his shirt, looking every bit the guilty man. “I just need a little fresh air.”

  “You got lots this afternoon.”

  “Yes.” He nodded, his head bobbing up and down. Where was the consummate player now? Or was this just more of his games?

  “Why don’t you stay in?”

  He glanced at the door then back to her.

  “We could open that other jug of wine and celebrate my findings.”

  “Yes.” He made no move to take off his boots.

  She raised an eyebrow, trying to elicit a response. Her mind screamed at her to kill him, end it, leave the cavern, and begin her hunt. She squeezed the hilt of her dagger. Now. She should do it now.

  He shifted from one foot
to the other.

  She loosened the blade from its sheath.

  He swallowed.

  Yes. His death would free her to do what she was born to do and yet it was his spell that kept her alive. If his life ended, would hers? Would she cross back over the veil or would something else happen? If she killed him, she had no guarantee she would be able to finish her mission. And to top it off, her cursed heart didn’t want him dead.

  “I really do need a little air.” He was pale. White as death.

  She eased her dagger back into its sheath and forced a half smile. Perhaps she could play him for a little longer. Just until she knew if killing him would end his spell on her or not. “I’ll open the wine and let it breathe. When you return you can help me confirm the location of the Tomb of Souls.”

  He nodded, but didn’t appear any happier at the prospect of wine and a puzzle. In fact, he looked even more nervous than before.

  §

  Ward stepped into the dim sewers. He closed the cavern door and pressed his hands against its smooth surface. His heart pounded, and all he could hear was its heavy thump and the rush of air that came with every breath. He was caught.

  How had he managed to survive the encounter? He shoved that thought aside. It didn’t matter how it had happened. He should make the best of it and run.

  With a quick inhalation that made him choke on the fumes, he pushed away from the wall and started down the pipe. First he had the Inquisitor to check on, and regardless of his Oath, this was the last visit. The Tracker would have to figure out the rest on his own. Besides, the incision seemed to be healing well. There was still a chance it would rot, but every passing day decreased that chance. The Goddess had been watching over him on that matter since many operations ended in tragedy. If only she’d been watching earlier.

  He found an access pipe and climbed the ladder to the street, no longer caring if anyone saw him. He wasn’t going back. The Goddess herself couldn’t command him to return to Celia. The fact that she hadn’t killed him, he was sure, was merely a moment of weakness. If he returned, she’d surely regain her senses.