Page 47 of City of Stone and Silence

In any event, it isn’t coming any closer. I clap Bohtal on the shoulder.

“We’ll keep on,” I say to the group. “Tell me if it comes this way.” He nods.

Not long after, the great ziggurat comes into sight. It’s about half again as tall as our shelter, though clearly following the same basic design, like a pile of giant steps or an enormous version of a child’s block pyramid. Ramps run up all four sides, splitting to go around enormous open doorways, and continue on to the very top. The doorway directly ahead of us is surrounded by some kind of elaborate carving, and long ropes run down the sides of the ziggurat, supported by poles. The converging lines give the impression of a spider’s web.

There’s still no sign of any walking corpses. We slow as we get closer, picking our way through the last of the jungle. I frown, looking up, trying to place something about the ropes and decoration, but Bohtal with his enhanced vision gets it first and gasps.

“Bones,” he says, taking a half-step back.

The “ropes” are strings of bones, long arm and leg bones bound one to the next. Each squat wooden post bears a single skull, fixed to look down at visitors approaching the ramp. They move slightly in the gentle breeze as we approach, with a faint, horrible clatter.

I’m not sure how many corpses you would need to build a display like that. A rotting lot, that’s for certain.

The frieze around the doorway is no carved decoration, either. As we get closer, we can see that it consists of more bones, fixed to the stones in elaborate patterns. Skulls in the center of expanding circles of linked ribs, flowers built from hip bones, long, sinuous shapes formed from interlocking fingers.

I swallow and survey the crew. Even Zarun is looking a little grim.

“Well,” I manage. “In case any of you worried this was a misunderstanding, and Prime wanted to make friends, consider yourself corrected.”

There’s a weak round of laughter. Aifin, who can’t understand my meager joke, turns away from the bones and signs with his hands. I haven’t learned the full vocabulary he and Meroe worked out, but I know enough to work in a hunting pack, and he keeps it simple.

No enemies.

I nod agreement. “I thought we’d run into something sooner, too.”

“Once we get inside, we have no idea of the layout,” Zarun says. “It’s a hell of a way to get ambushed.”

“Yeah.” I shake my head. “Everyone stay close. Zarun and I in front, Vargora in the rear.” The three Melos users should be best able to defend themselves against a sudden attack. “Bohtal in the middle, and keep your ears open.”

“As you say, fearless leader,” Jack says with a grin. She doesn’t seem at all discomfited by the bones. Nothing bothers Jack.

Thora cracks her knuckles. Those of the crew who carry weapons get them ready, and auras of various colors flicker throughout the party. I have a strange moment of homesickness—back in Kahnzoka, as a lone Melos adept, I’d been able to make myself ward boss. If I’d had a crew like this behind me, mage-blood fighters all, I could have ruled the city.

We climb up the ramp, flanked by slowly converging lines of bone. Ribs arc out over the edge of the doorway, like teeth around a gaping maw. Inside, there’s only darkness, until several of our Myrkai users conjure flames, revealing a stone corridor like the one in our own shelter.

“Any idea how to find Prime?” Zarun says.

“Give me a minute.”

I close my eyes, reaching out with Eddica. As usual, the whole Harbor is thick with flows of Eddica energy, including the massive amount of power still pouring out of Soliton. Closer to, though, I can sense energy moving within the ziggurat itself, a web of power converging somewhere in the interior. I pinpoint it in my mind and open my eyes.

“I think I know the way,” I tell him. “Follow me.”

The corridor leads to an intersection, and after another moment with my eyes shut we take the left turn. The Eddica flow leads me through a half-dozen more junctions—I really hope I’ll be able to repeat the trick on the way out. We’ve also been trending upward, deeper and higher into the pyramid. After the last turn, I see light ahead, steady magical illumination spilling through an arched doorway.

I creep toward it, gesturing the others forward only slowly. Beyond the archway is a large, circular room. Several bright white lights shine down from the ceiling, and by their radiance I can see there’s a balcony running along the far side of the chamber, about thirty feet up. Standing on it is a single human figure, so heavily backlit that it looks like a shapeless shadow.

“Someone’s waiting for us,” Zarun says.

Safiya sidles closer, kindling fire on her palm. “If that’s Prime, sir, do you want me to try to take him out from here?”

I frown, and check the Eddica currents. There’s a small thread linking the faceless thing to the greater flows, but not enough for it to be another Eddica adept. I shake my head.

“It’s just a puppet,” I mutter. “Prime apparently doesn’t want to show himself.”

Someone laughs, a warm, bass sound that echoes through the chamber. The voice that follows is nothing like the cracked whisper I heard when the corpse-thing grabbed me. It sounds like an actor declaiming, rich and thick as butter.

“My apologies,” Prime says. “You don’t live as long as I have by being incautious.”