“They’re all clues,” said Cricket. She looked up at Malator. “Right, Malator?”
“Pieces to the puzzle, Cricket,” he agreed. “The monster came through here-through this wall. Like the river. It crossed between worlds.” He grinned at me. “Hear that, Lukien?”
“We know that already,” I said. “What else?”
Malator crossed the chamber to face me. “We learned a lot,” he insisted. “The name of the monster, the fact that it’s from Gahoreth. .”
“And none of us has any idea what that means,” I said. “Fallon set that monster free when he stole Atarkin’s body. But why? What’s it looking for? Revenge? Souls? Do you know, either of you?”
Cricket looked away. Malator seethed but didn’t say a word.
“I didn’t think so. Well, enough now.” I trudged my way into the main chamber, splashing through the water. “I’m done with riddles and clues. I’m done with running and hiding. It’s time to fight.”
“Oh,” said Cricket, “now I see. You’re mad because you didn’t learn anything helpful to kill it. That’s what you want, isn’t it? To fight it. To kill it.”
“That’s right.” I turned on her. “You want to know? I’m mad because the damn thing isn’t here. But I’m going to find it, and when I do I’m going to kill it. And then I’m going to find Wrestler and I’m going to kill him, too. That’s what I do, Cricket. I’m a killer.” It felt so good to finally admit it! Like chains had been broken. I couldn’t get to Isowon fast enough. “We’re done here,” I told them. “Let’s go.”
“We just started looking!” argued Malator. “There’s time. We have the whole tomb to explore.”
“Malator. .” I struggled to control myself. “You’ve taken me astray. Remember when we set out? I told you I was in charge. You’re my Akari. But then I let you show me visions, get my head all turned around. Look at us. We’re in a tomb! Like grave robbers. Like that scoundrel Anton Fallon. Well, no more.” I pulled my sword a few inches out of its sheath. “Time for you to go home.”
Malator eyed the blade. “You’re making a mistake.”
“Go on, get in there,” I coaxed. “I’ll call you when I need you.”
“I’m not a slave-”
“Yes, Malator, you are! That’s the price you pay for keeping me alive. For keeping me away from Cassandra and everything that makes sense to me! I say where we go from here. Not you. Not anyone else. Now, get in the sword.”
He contested me with a long, hard stare, but he couldn’t win. Malator hated to admit it, but I owned him. In a puff of light, he disappeared. Out went the flame in Cricket’s hand. Darkness swallowed us instantly.
“Uh, Lukien?”
“Don’t worry. I can see.”
I still had the miracle of Malator’s powers. I took Cricket’s hand and guided us along the river, out of the tomb, and out of the cave, picking our way carefully and wordlessly over the rocks. When the sunlight finally touched us, I saw the worry on Cricket’s face.
She’s afraid of me, I thought.
Maybe that was a good thing. We found our horses where we left them. I mounted up, told Cricket to hurry, and rode south for Isowon.
21
Crezil.
The word kept going through my mind.
All that morning and into the afternoon we rode south for Isowon. Cricket spent her time talking about frivolous things, trying to draw me out of my sour mood, and avoiding any discussion of what we found in the cave. She bounced along behind me, commenting about the trees and how lovely the day was for riding, and how pleased Marilius would be to see us again, but she never once mentioned the monster or her ability to read the writings in Atarkin’s tomb. I never mentioned it either. I was sick of her memory lapse, sick of her not even trying to remember.
And I was suspicious. For the first time, I feared all her lost memories were nothing but a lie. Yet I knew there was nothing to be done for it. We had our hands full with Diriel’s army and the promise I’d made him to deliver up the monster, and now that I knew the creature’s name, I pondered ways to beat it.
Crezil.
To know it’s name almost put a face on it. I imagined Gahoreth, the hell it called home. In Liiria we had no hell. We had only the Fate, and I didn’t believe in it. Minikin and the Inhumans had cured me of that fairy tale, showing me a world beyond our own, beyond death even, and when she died Malator had taken up my tutoring. But still, it all befuddled me. Every new bit of knowledge called into question the bits I’d learned before.
I pulled my water skin from Zephyr’s side, opened it with my teeth and took a drink. Behind me Cricket started talking to herself, realizing at last that I wasn’t listening. The bruise on her head had turned a dullish blue, and whatever her fall had knocked loose in her skull was still rattling around in there. She might have been on the brink of a breakthrough or an utter collapse; I could no longer tell the difference. All I wanted was to get to Isowon.
We rode on past noon, past the time when Fallon took his midday meal naked by the pool. I looked up at the sun and thought about the last time I’d seen him, balled up like a baby and sniffing that awful smelling spice. For a moment I regretted returning, until I thought of Isowon. Glorious Isowon was a company town; Fallon built it and owned every stick of it, but its people were innocent. I couldn’t abide their slaughter.
“Cricket?”
She snapped out of her daze. “Yeah?”
“My father smoked a pipe.”
“Huh?”
“My father. You’re always asking about my past. He smoked a pipe made of black bronze. Heavy goddamn thing.”
She rode up beside me with a wondering smile. “Oh, yeah?”
“These are the kind of things you remember. Sometimes I can’t even picture his face. I try and try, but I can’t. I have to sneak up on the memory. But that pipe. . that’s what I remember. Him lighting it, puffing on it. That smell, like old leather. He used to blow the smoke into my eyes.”
“Why’d he do that?”
“Because he was a bastard. Some people are born bastards. And their children become bastards. They can’t help it. It’s just what happens.” I looked at her and felt like crying. “You get me?”
Cricket took my words to heart, thinking on them. She said, “People can change. That’s what I believe.”
“That’s what young people believe. That’s what gives them hope.” I looked ahead of us, desperate to see Isowon. “It’s changing other people that’s hard.”
* * *
An hour later we were finally in Isowon, riding through the city’s tree-lined streets. I’d expected to be greeted by soldiers and to see the citizens and merchants out in the sunshine, but instead the streets were deserted. I peered into the homes and saw boarded-up windows and chains on the doors, as if the townsfolk already knew Diriel’s army was coming. Except for the distant churn of the ocean and the stray notes of songbirds, all was a hush. Cricket rode out ahead of me, swiveling her head around at all the locked shops and houses. Fountains still spouted along the avenues, but no children gathered to watch them. Cricket reached into a tree and plucked off a fruit. Never having seen the fruit before, I warned her not to eat it.
“Not gonna,” she said, then tossed it hard at the nearest home, squarely hitting the door. A rustle came from inside the house, then a shadow at the window. Someone peered out from a slit in the boards.
“Hey,” shouted Cricket, “where is everyone? Why you all hiding?”
There was a long, unmoving silence. Then, “Get off the street,” warned a voice. “Get to the palace if you’re soldiers.”
“Why?” I called back. I trotted to the edge of the road. “What happened?”
“Are you stupid? The monster! Now go! I don’t want to talk!”
The shadow left the window. I glanced around the street, but saw no sign of the monster, or even an attack. I could feel eyes watching us from the buildings, but no one echoed the man’s warning. I wheeled Zephyr about.