Death Weavers (3 page)

“Somebody might know,” Yeardly said. “Hard to say who. I haven't caught wind of any rumors about their locations.” She paused. “Tell me about Aaron.”

Cole stared at her. She had paid attention to their names. Good thing Hunter had suggested aliases. Aaron was Hunter's middle name and the name of Cole's paternal grandfather. The name Sally for Mira came from an old nickname derived from her middle name, Salandra. Hunter had maintained it was best to use codenames that weren't complete lies, because some echoes were experts at detecting falsehood.

While serving as one of the most feared of the High King's Enforcers, Hunter had typically covered his face with a mask. As a result, to move around anonymously, he could simply dress in normal clothes and let his face show. Cole didn't like Yeardly's interest in his brother. If word got out who he really was, it could bring a lot of trouble. Had they made a mistake? Had Hunter's identity slipped?

“Why?” Dalton asked.

“No big reason,” Yeardly said. Her tone was casual, but her eyes showed real interest. “He seemed to be in charge. I like the way he carries himself.”

“You like him!” Cole realized.

Yeardly tried to look innocent. “I'm just interested. How about the other one? Jace?”

“I get it,” Dalton said. “We're the approachable guys. They're the cool ones.”

“You're all great,” Yeardly assured him. She couldn't hide a little grin. “But they're a little extra great. Who was that girl with you at the start? Sally? Jace seemed to have eyes for her.”

“She's nobody,” Cole said. “Jace does like her, but he'd be mad if anybody knew.”

Yeardly clapped her hands and grinned with delight. “That's my kind of secret! Do you like her too?”

“Not like a girlfriend,” Cole said.

“No,” Yeardly said. “But I saw something when you talked about Jenna.”

Cole became very interested in a flowering bush off to one side. “Maybe. She's mostly a friend.”

“Mostly because you're not sure it's mutual yet,” Yeardly said with a giggle, clapping again. “This is a cause I can get behind. Trying to find and rescue the unrealized love of your life.”

“I don't know if I'd say—” Cole began.

“Shush!” Yeardly held a finger toward his lips. “Don't spoil it. Listen, if you guys don't wander off too far, I'll do what I can to help you.”

“But you don't know anything,” Cole reminded her.

Yeardly winked. “Not yet. Hard to say what a curious echo might do if she puts her mind to it.”

“We'd appreciate any help,” Dalton said.

Yeardly smiled. “Of course you would. Especially if I make no demands in return. Tell you what, when the time is right, I may ask to be introduced to Aaron. Think you could manage that?”

“Sure,” Cole said. “Knowing him is no big deal.”

Her eyes flashed with interest. “Maybe not to you. Good luck!”

Yeardly disappeared.

Cole looked at Dalton. His friend sighed.

“This is a weird place,” Dalton said.

“Not a bad start.”

“We should probably split up.”

Cole started down the untraveled path to the right, and Dalton proceeded to the left. Soon shrubs, trees, and irregularities in the terrain screened Dalton from view. Reaching more intersections, Cole took a meandering route beside streams and hedges, then entered a corridor of trellises that arched overhead to create a curved ceiling of flowering vines.

A laughing boy raced through one blossoming wall of the corridor, ran along it for a stretch, then lunged through the other side just as a second boy came into view. Though younger than the first, the second boy dashed after him, plunging through the trellis wall.

Approaching the section where the boys had vanished, Cole found no space through which they could have fit. They had passed through solid wood laced with vegetation. More echoes.

Beyond the corridor, Cole followed a circuitous path of gray pebbles around several mounds where dense, thorny shrubs with dark green leaves flourished. Several little paths branched off, ending abruptly at benches. Near one bench, a dignified man in a fancy coat stood very straight. He had a bony nose and thick, wavy, white hair. He was semitransparent, allowing Cole to view the garden directly behind him almost as clearly as the background to either side.

Gathering his courage, Cole turned down the path that led to the man's bench and stared up at him. He was quite tall. Though the echo had glanced at Cole as he approached, he now acted oblivious to his presence.

“Are you an echo?” Cole asked.

The man glanced down with no hint of a smile. “We both know the answer to that question, which makes it hardly worth asking. Run along.”

“I was just trying to start a conversation,” Cole explained.

“Your overture was as thrilling as a remark about the weather,” the man said flatly, no longer making eye contact.

“I'm looking for information,” Cole said.

“I possess vast stockpiles,” the man said, examining his fingernails.

“Great.”

The man's eyes shifted to regard Cole. “I do not invite common urchins into my confidence. Run along, boy.”

“Do you even know who I am?”

The man gave half a smirk. “One of my valets inspected you and your cohorts upon entry. I heard big talk of princesses and Nazeem. You are clearly pretenders.” The man drew out a handkerchief and waved him away. “So . . . go pretend.”

Cole felt himself getting mad. He knew that probably wasn't smart but couldn't help it. “Shows how much you know.”

“Perhaps it does,” the man said dryly.

Cole turned away. “Forget it.”

“Already done,” the man said with relief.

Cole took a few steps. The man made no effort to stop him. He seemed really not to care. Or maybe he was expertly baiting him. Either way, Cole couldn't resist and turned back.

“I've seen three of the princesses,” he said.

The stuffy man raised his eyebrows as he polished a cuff link. “Not just one? Three of the five? Extraordinary. And highly credible.”

Cole had to bite his tongue to keep from revealing Mira's identity. That wasn't his secret to share. Maybe leaving was the best option.

“And still you linger,” the man said.

“What can you tell me about Nazeem?” Cole asked.

The man huffed. “You're right. Forgive me. Seeing as you have offered definitive proof that you are a close associate of many princesses, I shall now divulge all I know about the most perilous personage in the echolands.”

“Nazeem lives in the echolands?” Cole asked.

The man chuckled to himself. “Where did you imagine him? In Necronum?”

“The Fallen Temple.”

“Hmmm,” the man said. “Not everyone has connected Nazeem to that location. It is hardly common knowledge. The Fallen Temple has a physical counterpart in Necronum, but Nazeem has long dwelt inside the portion in the echolands.”

“Nazeem is dead?” Cole asked. That didn't make sense. At the secret meeting in Junction, Nazeem had talked about returning from captivity.

The man narrowed his eyes. “His body may have perished. Nazeem is far from dead. And you would do well to avoid mentioning him. These are not matters for amateurs to discuss.”

Cole felt his face flush. “Amateur? I've seen him, mister. Face-to-face. Have you?”

The man looked down his nose at Cole. “I had you all wrong. Clearly, your ignorance is a complex pretense. You are the most remarkable youth in the five kingdoms. Tell me: How was it that you entered and escaped the Fallen Temple? You are the first I know of to succeed! Did you rescue any princesses along the way?”

“I didn't go there,” Cole said. “I saw him at a gathering of shapecrafters. And he saw me.”

The man gave a simpering laugh. “You caught wind of that rumor? That much is well done. The gossip in the echolands holds that Nazeem is looking for a mortal boy who roughly meets your description. Am I to believe that the intrepid lad in question is foolish enough to reveal himself to an unknown echo? You are duller than average, my boy, but your audacity almost entertains.”

Cole gave a nervous chuckle. Maybe that hadn't been a very smart thing to share. “You're onto me.”

“Of course I am,” the man said. “Had you ever met Nazeem, he would own you body and soul. Now run along.”

Cole walked away. The man seemed to know a lot, but Cole had a feeling that talking more could prove dangerous. Hopefully, the stuffy echo wouldn't rethink his assumption that Cole was an imposter. The man seemed very sure of himself.

After so much success, Cole expected to find another echo around the next corner but was disappointed. He wandered for at least an hour and saw nothing but vegetation and other mortals, including Joe and Hunter.

Later, feeling thirsty, Cole recalled a fountain inside the shrine that people drank from using cups. He steered back toward the main building, crossing little bridges and occasionally doubling back as footpaths wound astray.

As he approached the tall doors to the shrine, he noticed an elderly man in a large hat and a ragged gray robe sitting in the shadows, knees up, head partially bowed, back to the wall. A deeply tanned hand with dirty fingernails held out a small wicker basket. He didn't glance at Cole or make a gesture, but he was clearly a beggar, and the basket was empty.

Cole fished a spare ringer from his pocket. Hunter had cashed out a bunch of Zeropolitan credits at the train station and given them all a personal stash of ringers, the currency used in the other kingdoms of the Outskirts.

The ringer was silver—worth ten coppers, enough for several good meals. But Hunter was loaded, and Mira had access to big funds too. Even though the beggar wasn't looking directly at him, Cole didn't want to make a show of searching for smaller change.

He dropped the ringer in the basket.

It fell through to the ground.

The man looked up, his toothless smile becoming the widest crease in his seamed face. “Few people notice me. Fewer still make an offering. I'm Sando, young sir, and I hope that I can be of service.”

3

I
could use information,” Cole said.

Sando's smile widened, showing his smooth gums. “That's just the kind of help I can provide.” He looked Cole up and down, then squinted, making even more wrinkles gather around his eyes. Sando spoke slower, as if his interest had increased. “There is more to you than greets the eye, young sir.”

“What do you mean?” Cole asked.

Sando sprang to his feet. “Pick up your ringer. I can't use it, and there's no sense in leaving silver on the ground. We'll find a private place to get acquainted.”

Moving with an easy grace that contradicted his elderly appearance, Sando led the way off the path, skipping over obstacles and sliding around shrubs. Cole tried not to crush any flowers as they followed the outside wall of the shrine, away from the doors. When they reached a shady nook shielded by bushes, Sando sat, crossing his legs. “This will serve.”

Cole knelt in front of him. “Are we supposed to be here? When we first arrived, a guy told us to stay on the paths.”

“I am seldom noticed, and so easily forget such policies,” Sando said. “I would not wish to lead you into trouble. Since we are already here, I recommend avoiding attention. I suppose you could inform any nosy authorities that you were following a wayward echo.”

“Okay,” Cole said, crouching a little lower.

“I take it this is not the first time you have strayed from a path,” Sando said.

“Nobody's perfect,” Cole admitted, thinking of some of the rules he had broken since arriving in the Outskirts. His adventure with Mira had begun when they ran away from the Sky Raiders. From the High King's perspective, pretty much all Cole had done since that day was break laws, including when he helped Dalton escape his captors.