Gyre’s skin prickled, and his scar itched. He ducked his head politely, then realized whoever was speaking couldn’t see it in the gloom. “Uh … hello.”
“Hello, Gyre,” the voice said. “Welcome to you as well, for whatever it’s worth. My name is Elariel.”
“A little light would be nice,” Kit said. “I’m not sure Gyre appreciates what he’s gotten into.”
“Of course.” There was a shuffling sound. “Please don’t scream.”
A glowstone came on, a very weak one, shedding the faintest blue radiance. It was barely enough to outline the edges of things, but Gyre’s eye had had a few moments to adapt to the darkness. He quickly got the impression of a high, cavernous space. While the building looked intact from outside, the interior had been gutted, two stories combined to make a single enormous chamber. Detritus from this deconstruction work was still in evidence, piled against the far wall in a tidy heap.
The space had been filled with arcana. The largest was a delicate-looking filigree of crystals and metal wire that took up much of what had been the second story, wound round with tough-looking vines. Plantlike shapes bloomed from the walls, sprouting crystalline protrusions and webs of leaves that gleamed with a metallic shimmer. Similar objects sprouted from the floor, clustering in a rough semicircle.
Of more immediate concern were the two hulking shapes that waited on either side of Gyre and Kit. They were vaguely humanoid, but at least eight feet high, and put Gyre in mind of the rock-like guardian that had killed Harrow down in the tunnels. These lacked the stony outer layer and were seemingly composed entirely of gleaming black muscle. They stood in complete stillness but nonetheless carried an air of barely contained tension, like springs that would unwind in sudden violence if the pressure was ever released.
But directly in front of him, beside the light, was a figure that put even these out of his mind. Gyre blinked, felt his mouth hanging open, and closed it with an audible clack. He swallowed hard, fighting for control of his throat. When he felt he could trust his voice, he spoke.
“You’re a ghoul.”
Elariel cocked her head. “I admit you’re taking it better than I expected.”
She was tall, a head taller than Gyre, and by human standards painfully thin. Her arms and legs were thin, too, and longer than a human’s. Her spindly appearance was offset by her fur, a thick red-brown coat that covered her completely except for hands, feet, and face. She wore no clothing, and her small breasts were tipped by broad black nipples. Her face seemed more human than the rest of her, with an upturned nose, a broad, expressive mouth, and enormous eyes, pupils so wide they were nearly black from edge to edge. Her ears were long and pointed, sticking well out to the sides of her head and twitching with interest. When she spoke, Gyre saw sharp, feline teeth.
“You …” Gyre turned to Kit. “This is your client?”
“More like my handler,” Kit said. “The client is still back in the Tomb.”
“That’s right,” Elariel said. Her voice sounded so human it was a shock to hear it again. “I’m just the errand girl.”
“You …” Gyre shook his head and squeezed his eye shut for a moment. He could hear his heartbeat roaring in his ears. He took shallow breaths, striving for calm. “The ghouls are all dead.”
“I’ll be sure to tell everybody when I get home,” Elariel said dryly.
“I mean …” Gyre opened his eye and stared at her. “That’s what everyone says. What we were always told. Even by the Order.”
“We do our best to keep it that way,” Elariel said. She glanced at Kit, who cleared her throat.
“You understand the problem now,” Kit said. “Just by bringing you here—”
“You can’t let me leave.” Gyre felt his lips curl in a manic grin. “Not when I might spill the secret.”
“It’s possible I could convince Naumoriel you don’t pose a threat,” Elariel said. “But the more you see, the less likely that is. I warned Kitsraea it was a risk.”
“I can’t get the Analytica without him,” Kit said. “This seemed like the quickest way to make him understand. We need to talk to Naumoriel.”
“Nau—” Gyre began.
“The client,” Kit cut him off, waving a hand. “We’re out of choices, El.”
The ghoul sniffed, her ears twitching. “I have told you that your use of nicknames would be considered highly insulting—”
“Elariel.”
“I will contact my master,” she said, her huge eyes flicking to Gyre. “For the boy’s sake, I hope you know what you’re doing.”
The ghoul turned away, bending to touch the semicircle of misshapen arcana. Lights flickered inside the crystalline surfaces, and plantlike tendrils unwound and reshaped themselves into new configurations. The ghoul’s wide, spindly fingers danced across the irregular surface.
Just the things in this room would be the biggest find any scavenger’s ever had. Gyre looked up at the metal lattice overhead, which was slowly shifting its position. It’s all alive—
“You okay?” Kit said, leaning close with a conspiratorial air.
“Just a little surprised.”
“A little?” She grinned. “You should have seen your face.”
“You really did find the Tomb.”
“I told you I did, didn’t I?”
“Not in so many words.”
Kit sniffed. “Well. I didn’t deny it, anyway.”
“And it’s still alive? A whole city … like this?”
“Let’s put a hold on the questions until we figure out if you’re going to survive,” Kit said. “El’s friendly enough, but Naumoriel is the boss here. If he tells her to kill you, she will.” She glanced at the silent, dark-muscled figures. “And don’t doubt that she can.”
“I don’t. What are those things?”
“What did I say about questions? Just listen. I’m going to try to convince Naumoriel that I need you to get the Analytica and that he can trust you. You need to help me. If he asks you a question, be honest.”
“Is he coming here, or—”
Kit laughed. “Just watch, Halfmask.”
After a few moments, Elariel finished what she was doing, and the room was filled with a rising hum. Bits of tendril overhead extended, quivering with effort. In front of Elariel, fat blue sparks crackled from crystal to crystal, then abruptly rose into the air to form a shimmering, shifting curtain of blue light taller than a man. Elariel stepped away as the curtain wavered, then cleared like frost melting from a window. In the empty space where it had been, the image of a ghoul stood, half-transparent and outlined in blue light.
Gyre was hardly an expert on ghouls, but he guessed that this one was much older. His fur was a ratty gray and had fallen out in places, showing fish-belly-pale skin broken by angry red sores. The crown of his head was bald and liver spotted, just like a human’s, and one of his eyes was a milky white. Like Elariel, he was naked, but the left-hand side of his chest was covered by a steel plate studded with crystalline protrusions. From underneath the metal, tiny tendrils extended a few centimeters before plunging into the ghoul’s flesh.