Swan's Braid and Other Tales of Terizan
Page 13
Good thing the Council had given her another option.
The acolyte cleared his throat, breaking into her reverie. "It is, of course, a crime to steal a body from the Necropolis," he declared.
"How do you prevent it?"
He stared at her as though she was out of her mind. "We are a presence in the day and no one comes into the Necropolis at night. The Necropolis is haunted."
Terizan sighed. "Trust me, that's not the deterrent you think it is."
***
"He'll let her use my loom!"
Terizan backed away from the crypt. Hanra Seend followed.
"He'll let her use my loom!"
And a little further away.
"She won't take care of it. I know she won't."
And further still.
"You have to tell him not to let her use my loom!" Between my and loom, Hanra stopped following.
And that gave Terizan the rough length of Ayzarua's tether.
Terizan moved quickly between crypts and tombs touching nothing. Unfortunately, there was one ghost she couldn't avoid, but she did her best to delay the inevitable by waiting until she saw a pair of cloaked figures slip into the catacombs and then humming all twelve verses of Long Legged Hazra. If tonight's meeting followed the same pattern as last night's that would give Saladaz time to appear and begin talking.
Motivated, Terizan got through the three locks on the Tyree tomb in record time. Once inside, she carefully lit her tiny lantern and swept the narrow beam around the shelves. It wasn't hard to find the councilor's corpse; he was the only member of the family to have been beheaded.
Breathing through her mouth, she wrapped the shrouded body in waxed canvass and tied off the ends, leaving a length of rope just a little longer than Ayzarua's tether. Then holding the end of the rope, she dragged the body out of the tomb.
"The dead must have justice!"
Apparently, she'd pulled him away from his rant. She kept moving and didn't look back.
"Thief! Stop thief!"
He could yell all he wanted. Unless there was a horde of dead constables around, there was no one in the Necropolis to stop her. A quick, nervous glance from side to side determined that there were no hordes of dead constables.
"Do you know who I am, little thief? I am Councilor Saladaz Tyree!"
"You were," Terizan muttered, picking up speed on the raked gravel off the path. The ranting turned to threats behind her until she stopped by the tomb with the loosened bolts.
"Fool! I learned the secrets of the City of the Dead. I gathered those who would hear my voice. Everyone knows you can not stop the dead! I will have my revenge."
Terizan ignored him and continued one tomb further. Her arm barely fit between the bars, but she managed to put the end of the rope in Ayzarua's outstretched hand. The moonlight extended just far enough for her to see the Goddess' welcoming expression turn to grinning bone.
A little unnerved by the sudden quiet behind her, she turned to come face to face with Saladaz. He roared and reached for her. With the rope in the Goddess' hand, his body was now close enough that she was just within the limit of his tether.
Oh, that was clever!
She spun around, pressed hard against the bars, and stared into the darkness behind the Goddess. The acolyte had said that if she stared long enough, the gateway would open.
She needed that gateway open.
Goddess. Skull.
Skull. Goddess.
Five lines of icy cold down her back. Again. And again. Overcome by a despair so deep she wanted to die, Terizan sagged against the bars and clutched the Goddess' hand.
When her flesh touched stone, the darkness behind the statue lightened. A tiny circle of pewter grey grew larger and larger until the Goddess stood silhouetted against it.
Eyes squinted nearly shut against the cold wind roaring past her, Terizan caught a glimpse of Saladaz's face and knew the Goddess had reached out to assist his spirit through the Gate. His translucent form stretched into caricature, he howled, "The dead must have justice!" as he disappeared into the grey.
Terizan lifted her other hand just far enough to flash a rude gesture.
She dropped to her knees as the gateway closed. Dragged her tongue over dry lips. Realized with the clarity that came from nearly dying that by attacking her Saladaz had sealed his own fate. The despair brought on by his touch had opened the Gate. Without that despair, she could have stared into the darkness until she starved and nothing would have happened.
Well, if she'd starved to death the Gate would have opened, but she didn't have that kind of time.
She took a moment to convince herself that she'd meant to do it that way.
As soon as she could stand, she'd put the body back in the tomb. Without Saladaz, there was no conspiracy, only seven grieving men and women.
Unfortunately, the Council had asked for proof of nothing, but even she wasn't that good. She'd have to bring them proof of something else.
In the morning, she needed to have a word with an acolyte and get those names.
***
"There is no secret organization meeting in the Necropolis and conspiring against the Council."
One steepled her fingers and smiled over them. "Prove it."
Terizan threw a small crumpled scroll on the table. She'd picked the poet's pocket when he left his shop to get some lunch.
Two snatched the scroll from Three's fingers before it could get covered in scented oil. Unrolled it. Frowned. "This is a ballad mourning a dead love."
"And not a good one either," Three muttered reading over Two's shoulder.
"Poets?" One asked, lip curled. "There are poets in the Necropolis?"
"Dressing in black. Wearing silver jewelry. Rhyming into the darkness with broken hearted. And I'm not going back in there for another poem, I barely escaped as it was." Lines of cold across her back. Her shudder was unfeigned. "You can send someone else if you need more proof."
"We will."
"Go ahead."
She meant it and that convinced them. After all, if there was a conspiracy, and she turned down the job, it would go to a thief who might be less than scrupulous about the names he or she offered the Council. Terizan would never be responsible for something like that.
And everyone knew it.