Almost immediately, Magda began seeing the dead.
As they passed by room after room, their lantern light revealed niches carved right into the stone walls of the rooms. Each cavity looked to hold at least one body; most held more. Some of the hollowed-out chambers seemed to have entire families laid out beside one another.
Magda slowed to take a better look into a larger area off to the right. She saw that in places the resting chambers were half a dozen high, the uppermost niches reachable only with a ladder. Most of the bodies laid to rest in the honeycombs of cavities were wrapped in shrouds that were so old and dirty that they looked to have been carved out of the same tan sandstone as the rooms themselves. A number of the recesses held coffins, all of them stone, most with carved decorations, all of them layered in dust and partially encased within masses of cobwebs.
As they went on, they encountered rooms of niches that held massive numbers of bones. Each recess was filled to the top with neatly stacked bones, sorted by type, covered in dust. Several of the chambers held only skulls. Many of the resting places looked untouched for decades, if not centuries. Very few looked tended.
“These are the oldest tombs,” Tilly said. “As more space was needed, the oldest bones were brought together and stacked here to make room. As time went on, catacombs had to be extended deeper and deeper in order to make new places to bury the recently deceased. The excavation goes on to this day. Many of those living up above will one day end up down here.”
Above many of the hollowed-out resting places could still be seen a family name in faded paint, or a name and a title of the deceased. Some were decorated around the edges with crudely carved decorations, probably done by family members.
Many people preferred to inter their family members so that they could come to visit them. Other people, especially the relatives of more famous people, preferred to let fire consume their loved one, rather than allow their bodies to become an attraction, or provide rivals a corpse to spit upon.
Magda had chosen to have the shell that had contained Baraccus’s spirit to be consumed by fire as that was also said by some to purify the spirit of its worldly trappings for its journey to the underworld. Some couldn’t stand the thought of a loved one being reduced to ashes. Magda didn’t see that empty vessel as her loved one. Her loved one was gone to be among the good spirits. The choice being forced upon her, she chose to have his vessel reduced to ash rather than to rot.
The passageway they hurried down widened out, so that the two of them could again walk comfortably side by side. As they descended level after level, past the dead numbering in the thousands, they eventually came to newer sections of the catacombs. The bodies Magda saw wrapped in white shrouds were not yet layered in centuries of dust.
Torches in rusty iron brackets were lit in these newer sections, providing enough light to see without the need of lanterns. Tilly blew out the flame in hers.
“Besides the dead,” Tilly said, “here, too, be places where some of the gifted choose to work.”
Although her guide didn’t mention it, Magda recalled Tilly telling her that some of the gifted down here worked with the dead. Magda didn’t like to contemplate such a concept, and tried hard not to imagine what such work could entail.
Before long, Magda began to hear the whisper of conversation. They soon encountered people coming out of passageways to the sides. Some hurried past in the opposite direction. Most of them were alone, but she also saw groups of four or five people talking in low voices among themselves, absorbed in debate on formulas or the order of prophecy.
Magda finally saw rooms that were something other than burial chambers. They looked like crude work areas cut out of the sandstone. Some were lit by torches, but a number of the rooms were brightly illuminated by glass spheres.
Inside a few darker rooms Magda saw glowing verification webs surrounded by people studying them, pointing out certain elements to others, or casting in additional branches. Some of the webs hummed. The colors of the webs reflected off faces focused on the work.
There were several large libraries, lined with shelves from floor to ceiling, all filled with books. Magda knew from Baraccus that these would be valuable and profoundly dangerous books that needed to be kept away from more public areas. Some such books had been taken away to the Temple of the Winds.
People sat at tables, quietly studying volumes opened before them, while others stood in the aisles, searching the shelves, apparently looking for particular information. Other rooms had heavy doors. At one door, flashes of light crackled and flickered through the gap at the bottom of the door, as if there were a thunderstorm inside.
Tilly gestured down a passageway to the right. “This way.”
The long corridor was noticeably different from any that had come before. It was wider than the others, with carefully carved straight walls and a flat ceiling. It was also completely deserted and silent in a way that was oppressive.
As they left the occupied areas far behind and made their way down the passageway, something about the place made the fine little hairs on the back of Magda’s neck stiffen.
At the far end they reached a single arched opening, its significance highlighted by the broad corridor that had led up to this lonely archway. A textile with long-faded colors in vertical geometric designs hung over the entryway.
Tilly paused to the side of the covered opening. “Here be where you need to go, Mistress. I can take you no farther.”
“Why not?”
Tilly glanced at the hanging. “The gifted who I sometimes work for, and who have told me about the woman, also say that I am not to go beyond these symbols hung here. They say that it is only for the gifted to go beyond.”
Magda frowned. “I’m not gifted.”
“But you are Magda Searus. As the wife of the First Wizard you had to live up to responsibilities others don’t have, but with those responsibilities came liberties not always enjoyed by those who are not gifted.”
Despite Tilly’s confidence, Magda wasn’t so sure that she would be welcomed. The fact that Tilly wasn’t allowed beyond was a troubling sign that Magda hadn’t anticipated.
Tilly pulled a small piece of paper from her pocket and handed it over. “This map was given to me by a friend I trust. It will show you which passageways you must take. Pay close attention so that you don’t become lost in the maze. When you reach an archway covered over with red cloth, that be the place.
“Inside there is said to be a blind woman named Isidore who tends the spiritist. I have never met her, but as I hear it told, if the spiritist is willing to see you, Isidore will take you to her.
“You must understand that the spiritist may not wish to see you. Her purpose is to help the gifted to see into the world of the dead, not to grant audiences to petitioners. She may choose to turn you away.”
“But you’re the one who suggested in the first place that I come to see the spiritist. You mean you don’t even know that she will see me?”
“You are the wife of the First Wizard now in the world of the dead. Though I can’t say for certain, I have believed from the first that you are one she would agree to see.”
Despite looking somewhat apologetic, Tilly tried to allay the concern by going on with her advice. “If you are allowed to speak with the spiritist, she will need to reach into the spirit world to find what you seek. My advice would be to think carefully about what you most need to know.”
“I understand.” Magda glanced down at the paper covered with lines and intersections, unsure if it was all worthwhile. “Thank you, Tilly. I appreciate you showing me the way.”
“If she agrees to help you, I have heard that it takes some time. With your permission, I would leave you to your search for answers. I should be back to my work before I am missed.”
Magda could tell by the way the woman stole glances back up the strange entrance tunnel that she was afraid of the place. Magda didn’t feel all that comfortable there, either.
&nbs
p; “Of course, Tilly. You’ve done enough bringing me down here. Please, go on back. I’ll be fine.”
Tilly offered a brief smile. “Can you find your way back from here alone?”
Magda nodded. “Yes. I know how to return.”
Tilly touched Magda’s arm. “I wish you well, then, Mistress. I hope that you can find the answers you seek and that your heart can at last be at peace.”
Magda didn’t know if her heart would ever be at peace, but she nodded anyway. She was at least determined to find answers.
Tilly leaned close and lowered her voice. “Be careful, Mistress.”
“What do you mean?”
“The spiritist is said to be a dangerous woman.”
Magda frowned down at the old woman. “Dangerous in what way?”
Tilly arched one brow. “She deals with the dead.”
Magda let out a sigh as she again took in the cloth hanging in the dead still air of the arched opening.
“I will be careful.”
She watched as Tilly hurried back through the cavernous passageway and vanished around a bend.
Standing in the silence before the hanging textile covered with a simple geometric pattern, Magda looked at the map again to get her bearings.
For a long time she stood alone, debating the wisdom of going to see such a woman. At last, she let out a deep sigh. She had no other ideas.
She had tried everything else she could think of. It would be foolish to turn back when she was this close.
Chapter 22
Magda lifted the rough cloth aside and cautiously entered what the map showed to be a complex maze. She held the lantern out, trying to see into the darkness, but she could see little of what was ahead. As she moved deeper into the carefully carved tunnel, she encountered layers of coarsely woven, raw linen hanging motionless across the passageway. It was unnerving to abruptly encounter the walls of cloth suspended in the darkness. She couldn’t imagine their purpose. She speculated that perhaps they were there to make the maze more confusing to trespassers. They were certainly confusing her.
The hanging cloth also hid many of the side passageways, making it difficult to know for certain where she was on the map and if it was merely a cloth hanging in the middle of the hall, or a cloth covering the opening to another passageway. Sometimes there were four cloth walls forming a square, several with passages behind them, some with none. Over and over, she had to check behind the hangings and then consult the paper Tilly had given her. Several times she had to retrace her steps and start over again, trying to be sure of the proper turns to take.
Even though she carefully studied the map as she slowly made progress deeper and deeper into the warren of tunnels, it seemed that the complex network didn’t match the drawing. It was frighteningly confusing. She was having trouble reconciling the map to the tunnels she found herself in and feared becoming lost in the maze.
After a time, though, Magda realized that the short marks along the line of the route she was to follow were not side corridors, as she had thought at first. The short lines were actually intended to designate the locations of the layers of cloth that hung across her way. She confirmed her theory by counting the hangings between side tunnels. Once she was properly oriented to Tilly’s drawing, she was more confident in selecting the proper turns when she reached intersections.
The place was dead quiet. The only sound was the soft swish of her boots on the sandstone floor. She noticed that the floor was relatively rough, while the others they had been in had been worn smooth by foot traffic. Apparently, not many people ever ventured this way.
Magda turned when she thought she heard a soft sound from behind. She stood motionless for a time, breathing as slowly as she could while she listened. When she didn’t hear it again, she finally moved on, quickening her pace.
To the sides, a few of the inky black tunnels didn’t have the hangings covering the openings. There were no doors anywhere in the maze, as there had been in the areas where people worked. It was as if doors were not needed because the oppressive darkness itself barred the way into the side passages. That, or the ominous, dead-still curtains.
The place smelled dusty and dry with little hint of the burning pitch from the torches back in the occupied areas. Magda cautiously checked each room as best she could as she passed by, but she saw no one. Each room was completely bare, without any furniture or indication of purpose. None of them looked to have ever been inhabited. She heard no voices. It was as if she had entered an empty world entirely devoid of life.
She paused and turned back when she thought she heard a sound from behind. She stood stone-still for a time, holding her breath, listening, but she didn’t hear it again. Finally, she let her breath out and continued on, but from time to time she checked back over her shoulder.
She couldn’t ever recall being anywhere in the Keep that felt so lonely. She had never been down into the catacombs so she hadn’t really known for sure what they were like. Even the resting places of all the dead had seemed less desolate than the passageways leading to the spiritist. She hadn’t been aware that such strange deserted areas existed down below the Keep.
Every tunnel of every corridor looked the same. It would be all too easy to become lost in the complex network of tunnels. As she checked her map at every intersection, she was thankful that Tilly had obtained it for her.
Magda abruptly found herself at the end of the corridor. An archway covered over with a coarse red cloth loomed up before her. This was where the map ended. It was the place Tilly had told her about.
She stood stock-still for a time, not knowing for certain what to do. There was no door for her to knock on.
“Is anyone there?” she finally called out. Her voice echoed back to her from the cold corridor behind.
“We are here,” came a woman’s voice from deep within. “Why are you here?”
“I have come to speak with the dead.”
The only sound was the hiss of Magda’s lantern as she stood motionless, watching the vapor of her breath slowly rise into the still air. She glanced back into the darkness as she waited, listening for the sound she’d heard before.
“Enter, if you have need enough,” the woman finally said.
Something about the voice made Magda wonder if she should turn back now, while she had the chance.
Chapter 23
Before she lost her courage, Magda pushed the dead still, faded red cloth aside and ducked under it into a narrow hallway. Under a low, arched ceiling the hall led back through darkness toward an area of mellow light. At the end of the entryway she found a roughly round chamber lit by dozens and dozens of fat candles. The room was hollowed out of the same pale sandstone as the rest of the catacombs. Ledges carved into the walls all the way around held all the candles. The candles gave the whole room a soft, warm amber glow.
To the right Magda saw a dark doorway, presumably leading farther back into the quarters. She suspected that the spiritist would be in that back area.
In the middle of the room a thin young woman sat cross-legged on the floor. She had very short, fine brown hair and wore a dark, loose-fitting wrap of a dress that covered her legs entirely but left her shoulders and slender arms bare. Her hands remained nested in the lap of her dress.
A strange, thick leather blindfold fastened around her head covered her eyes. It was a uniform width except for a notch cut in the middle to fit around her delicate nose. The blindfold went temple to temple, held in place with a leather thong tied at the back of her head. Magic symbols and spell-forms had been carefully tooled into the leather with some of the lines colored in with paint. By the way the leather edges were worn and smooth it looked to have been in use for quite some time.
It was beautifully made, but covering the young woman’s eyes as it did struck Magda as rather foreboding.
The woman cocked her head as if to use an ear to better locate her visitor. “Welcome.”
“Thank you,” Magda said. She glanced into
the dark opening to the side, but saw no one. “Are you Isidore?”
The young woman smiled, making her bony cheekbones stand out all the more. The smile, while pleasant enough, did not put Magda entirely at ease. The woman’s expression and the lines around her mouth had an uncompromising toughness to them that seemed at odds with her young age. It reminded Magda a bit of the look she had seen in the eyes of orphan girls who lived by their wits in the alleyways of Aydindril. Those girls were tough beyond their years.
“I am Isidore. Strangers are most uncommon down here. Who would you be, then?”
“Magda Searus.”
“Ah. Wife to Baraccus. I have heard of you.”
Magda didn’t know if that was a good thing or not. She glanced again to the dark doorway, wondering if the spiritist could hear the conversation.
While most people had heard of Magda, and a number of people knew her and genuinely liked her, she knew that there were also those who didn’t like her. Some women had been jealous of her, resentful that she had somehow attracted and married the First Wizard. Some men thought marriage in general, and to an attractive younger wife in particular, was a distraction that the First Wizard didn’t need. A number of people simply resented her for marrying such a great man when she herself was ungifted. They thought it improper.
She also knew that a few people, besides some on the council, had come to loath her after that bloody day in the council chambers. They didn’t like to have trouble come into their lives at the Keep. It was as if by warning them of the danger she had personally brought the threat into their midst. As frustrating as such an attitude was, the truth was the truth.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Isidore said. “The First Wizard was a great man.”
“Thank you. I am here about that great man. I would like to speak with the spiritist, if I may.”
The First Confessor Page 12
