enters this place.”
Cerril turned when he heard the footsteps of the group halt behind him. The fever burned within him again, pulsing at his temples.
“Those skeletons aren’t going to rise,” he said.
“There’s no reason for us to be here, Cerril. You can go the rest of the way yourself. Malar’s geas was laid on you, not us.”
“Then 111 go myself,” Cerril said, and his words echoed throughout the building.
“You just want us along because you’re scared,” Hekkel said.
Cerril was scared, but he struggled not to show it and to keep his voice normal as he said, “Gold and gems divide much easier when there’s only one person.”
Hekkel took a step forward, baited as surely as one of the rats they caught for the blood games in some of the sailors’ taverns.
“What gold and gems?”
Flipping Malar’s coin again, Cerril deftly caught it from the air. The gold slapped against his palm.
“Malar called me here,” said Cerril, “to this place of Eldath. I’ve already told you how the Stalker sets his believers onto those who worship the Quiet One.” He paused, knowing he was about to tell his biggest he ever. “Do you think that Malar would call me here, to this place claimed by Eldath, and not reward me?”
Hekkel’s response died on his hps as the possibility locked into his brain.
“I’m sure,” Cerril said, turning back to continue through the rooms of broken caskets and dismembered skeletons dressed in rags, “that there’s enough here to take care of us all, at least for those among you brave enough to see this thing through.”
“Cerril’s right,” Two-Fingers agreed in a stronger voice. “Whatever Malar’s giving him for this service, he’s being generous enough to share it with us.”
“Cerril’s not a generous person,” Hekkel objected.
But no one was listening to what Hekkel had to say anymore, Cerril noticed. The lure of gold and treasure was too much for the other boys. Alaghôn was a city filled with small treasures that had been hidden away and found many years later, and it was filled with still more stories
of those forgotten treasures left by wealthy merchants, pirates, thieves, and nobility that had visited the Jewel of Turmish. Inventing the possibility of another such treasure was no stretch at all.
“What was this place?” Two-Fingers asked, following Cerril through the doorway into another room.
Cerril followed the pounding in his chest, going straight back and avoiding the other rooms that lay off the first one. He brushed more cobwebs from another open doorway.
“This was a charity crypt,” he said. “People who die without kith or kin to bury them, or those who wander into Alaghôn and get killed but go unclaimed, end up here.”
“The priests say they care about these people?” Hekkel sounded doubtful.
“No,” Cerril replied, stepping through another doorway and across a broken skeleton that was sprawled on the floor, “the Assembly of Stars pays the temples. Other rulers paid them in the past.”
“Why?” Two-Fingers asked.
“Because,” Aran put in, “corpses that don’t have a proper burial sometimes rise and walk again. I heard stories about that.”
“You should be real familiar with that,” Hekkel said, “after what happened to the Whamite Isles. Heard there’s a lot of dead up walking around over there.”
“Take that back,” Aran said angrily. “Take that back or you’ll be sorry!”
“Oh yeah?” Hekkel said. “And why will I be sorry?”
“Because I’ll catch you sleeping,” Aran said. Til catch you sleeping and I’ll cut off your ears. Youll never pass a mirror again without realizing how sorry you were for saying that.”
“You little runt,” Hekkel said.
Cerril considered turning around and slapping them both downtheir strident voices whipped the pounding between his temples into a renewed frenzythen the closed door at the back of the charity crypt caught his eye. He stared at the wooden
Cerril turned when he heard the footsteps of the group halt behind him. The fever burned within him again, pulsing at his temples.
“Those skeletons aren’t going to rise,” he said.
“There’s no reason for us to be here, Cerril. You can go the rest of the way yourself. Malar’s geas was laid on you, not us.”
“Then 111 go myself,” Cerril said, and his words echoed throughout the building.
“You just want us along because you’re scared,” Hekkel said.
Cerril was scared, but he struggled not to show it and to keep his voice normal as he said, “Gold and gems divide much easier when there’s only one person.”
Hekkel took a step forward, baited as surely as one of the rats they caught for the blood games in some of the sailors’ taverns.
“What gold and gems?”
Flipping Malar’s coin again, Cerril deftly caught it from the air. The gold slapped against his palm.
“Malar called me here,” said Cerril, “to this place of Eldath. I’ve already told you how the Stalker sets his believers onto those who worship the Quiet One.” He paused, knowing he was about to tell his biggest he ever. “Do you think that Malar would call me here, to this place claimed by Eldath, and not reward me?”
Hekkel’s response died on his hps as the possibility locked into his brain.
“I’m sure,” Cerril said, turning back to continue through the rooms of broken caskets and dismembered skeletons dressed in rags, “that there’s enough here to take care of us all, at least for those among you brave enough to see this thing through.”
“Cerril’s right,” Two-Fingers agreed in a stronger voice. “Whatever Malar’s giving him for this service, he’s being generous enough to share it with us.”
“Cerril’s not a generous person,” Hekkel objected.
But no one was listening to what Hekkel had to say anymore, Cerril noticed. The lure of gold and treasure was too much for the other boys. Alaghôn was a city filled with small treasures that had been hidden away and found many years later, and it was filled with still more stories
of those forgotten treasures left by wealthy merchants, pirates, thieves, and nobility that had visited the Jewel of Turmish. Inventing the possibility of another such treasure was no stretch at all.
“What was this place?” Two-Fingers asked, following Cerril through the doorway into another room.
Cerril followed the pounding in his chest, going straight back and avoiding the other rooms that lay off the first one. He brushed more cobwebs from another open doorway.
“This was a charity crypt,” he said. “People who die without kith or kin to bury them, or those who wander into Alaghôn and get killed but go unclaimed, end up here.”
“The priests say they care about these people?” Hekkel sounded doubtful.
“No,” Cerril replied, stepping through another doorway and across a broken skeleton that was sprawled on the floor, “the Assembly of Stars pays the temples. Other rulers paid them in the past.”
“Why?” Two-Fingers asked.
“Because,” Aran put in, “corpses that don’t have a proper burial sometimes rise and walk again. I heard stories about that.”
“You should be real familiar with that,” Hekkel said, “after what happened to the Whamite Isles. Heard there’s a lot of dead up walking around over there.”
“Take that back,” Aran said angrily. “Take that back or you’ll be sorry!”
“Oh yeah?” Hekkel said. “And why will I be sorry?”
“Because I’ll catch you sleeping,” Aran said. Til catch you sleeping and I’ll cut off your ears. Youll never pass a mirror again without realizing how sorry you were for saying that.”
“You little runt,” Hekkel said.
Cerril considered turning around and slapping them both downtheir strident voices whipped the pounding between his temples into a renewed frenzythen the closed door at the back of the charity crypt caught his eye. He stared at the wooden
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