Death Weavers (5 page)

Sando stopped speaking but kept stirring the air with his hands.

“What now?” Cole asked.

“If you agree to these terms, pick up the ringer,” Sando said.

“What if we don't find Destiny's trail?” Cole asked.

“Then you owe me nothing for flawed information. The binding will not hold.”

“What if I mess up?” Cole asked. “What happens if I tell about you?”

“If I hold up my end, you won't be able to dispose of the ringer until I say so, and you won't be able to tell anyone about me.”

Cole hesitated. “That sounds like I'll be bound. Are you sure this isn't a bound oath?”

“A bound oath would have a punishment for breaking your word,” Sando said. “This binding will simply hold you to what you promised if I keep up my end. And it holds me to what I promised if you keep up yours.”

“Sounds like it will control me.”

“Control you?” Sando cried with a laugh. “You will have to keep the ringer, and you won't be able to tell my secret. Otherwise, you will be in full control of yourself. If you don't mean to keep the agreement, you shouldn't make it. I intend to fulfill my part and hold you to your promise.”

“I don't know,” Cole said, wondering how the deal could backfire.

“This is simple,” Sando said calmly. “If I ask too much, walk away. You are under no obligation. I see this as a generous offer. I require a minor favor in exchange for very valuable information. If you see it otherwise, good day to you, young sir. May you travel prosperous roads.”

“Can't you just tell me?” Cole begged.

“It was my pleasure to provide free information about Nazeem,” Sando said. “We could discuss other matters. But I cannot tell you about Destiny for free. I can't divulge such precious knowledge without some form of recompense. Binding myself to the material world is how I survive.”

Cole waited.

Sando placed his hands on his knees, as if to rise.

Cole picked up the silver ringer.

4

A
faint tremor rippled through Cole. Not a physical vibration—more a disturbance of his emotions, intangible but unmistakable. The sensation briefly allowed him to feel his shaping power.

“Good choice, young sir,” Sando approved, rocking happily. “Destiny Pemberton visited the Cave of Memory not many months ago.”

“Is that nearby?” Cole asked.

“Three days by horse or coach,” Sando said. “You seem unfazed. I expected more excitement. How much do you know about the Cave of Memory?”

“Nothing,” Cole said.

Sando grinned, gums gleaming wetly. “Certain places in Necronum are woven differently from others. No echoes can enter the Cave of Memory. The interior has no parallel in the echolands. After entering, any mortal who departs the cave leaves behind a lasting impression that functions like a dead echo.”

“An echo forms?” Cole asked.

“Not a true echo,” Sando said. “An echo only forms once for each person. No second chances. It happens upon death, or earlier if a death weaver crosses to our side and becomes a bright echo. Such echoes remain bright for as long as they can return to their physical bodies. The constructs inside the Cave of Memory are not true echoes. Most call them imprints. They have no physical substance. But they retain the form and memories of whoever they represent.”

Cole had gotten used to encountering the impossible in the Outskirts, but this was still hard to process. “Are you saying I can talk to Destiny's memories?”

“In essence, yes,” Sando said. “The imprint you meet will look like Destiny and will have the same memories and personality Destiny had when she exited the cave. But the imprint cannot learn or change.”

“She'll be like a figment,” Cole said. “A semblance made of illusion.”

“Similar,” Sando said. “Finding Destiny's imprint could be a challenge. The cave is not small. Many imprints have accumulated over the years. All who enter pay the same price.”

“I'll leave behind an imprint,” Cole realized.

Sando tapped his temple and pointed at Cole. “At minimum, proof you were there. At worst, your imprint could impart secrets to others.”

“If I wouldn't tell a secret, would my imprint?” Cole asked.

“Depends,” Sando said. “Can you be tricked?”

“I guess.”

“If so, your imprint could be fooled as well. An imprint is intangible, so it can't be tortured or threatened. But your imprint also can't learn new concepts. Its only tools would be everything you knew and believed when you left the cave. The imprint can't alter an opinion, develop a skill, or entertain a fresh thought. There is no inspiration for imprints. No new memories. Their nature tends to cause exploitable weaknesses.”

“Makes me wonder how much I trust myself,” Cole said.

“A sensible concern, young sir,” Sando said. “But if you truly wish to find Destiny, the cave will offer you a chance.”

“I could probably learn a lot about what led to her current problems,” Cole said. “You told me that dead echoes can go crazy over time. Does the same happen to imprints?”

“I understand that it can,” Sando said. “The reaction would partly depend on the person imprinted. The imprint would have no physical needs or appetites, but it will be no happier to remain trapped inside the Cave of Memory than you would be. If such a fate would drive you mad, your imprint will have the same response.”

“The imprint would have no hope of escape,” Cole said. He tried to picture how it would feel to be stuck forever in some cave. “Does the imprint suffer?”

Sando gave a light chuckle. “An imprint might seem to suffer. It could act distressed. But the imprint has no life. No will. It only imitates something that was alive. It's a replica. The imprint can convey information. It can mimic emotion. But its feelings are no more real than those of a puppet or a footprint.”

“Is the Cave of Memory hard to find?” Cole asked.

“The location is no great secret,” Sando said. “Many could direct you. The closest village to the cave is called Rincomere.”

“Well, thanks,” Cole said.

“This is not good-bye, young sir,” Sando said. “Our partnership is just beginning. Save your farewells for after you deliver the ringer. A final matter. You are traveling alone?”

“No,” Cole admitted.

“How will you explain your new knowledge to your friends?”

“That's right. I agreed not to tell them about you. They'll want to know my source.”

“Try not to lie,” Sando advised. “Falsehoods have a way of unraveling, especially in Necronum. Do your companions know about your damaged power?”

“Yeah.”

“Report that you met an old semblance who recognized your mangled power and took pity on you. This is all true. You had desperate need for rare knowledge in my possession. I could have required an exhausting quest. I could have demanded vast treasures. Instead, I made a generous bargain. And if they ask my name?”

“Pretend I don't know?” Cole tried.

“That would be a lie,” Sando chided. “Try something like, ‘Good question. I should have found out.' ”

“I should have and I did,” Cole said.

“Imply the lie,” Sando said. “Don't state it outright.”

“You're good at this.”

“I lived a long mortal life, and many years as an echo besides,” Sando said. “I've had ample time to practice.”

“Cole?” a voice called.

Cole put a finger to his lips so he could listen. It sounded like Joe. He seemed to be a fair distance away.

“Cole! Cole? Come to the shrine. Cole?”

“Your friends are searching for you,” Sando said. “Go to them.”

On impulse, Cole attempted to drop the silver ringer. He swung his hand forward, but his fingers refused to let go. He tried once more with no success.

“Did you think I was bluffing?” Sando asked.

“I just wanted to see what it felt like,” Cole said, pocketing the ringer and then flexing his fingers. They moved fine when he wasn't trying to drop it. “Thanks for the info.”

Sando folded his hands on his lap, closed his eyes, and smiled. “We will meet again, giver of silver. May each step bring you closer to prosperity.” The old beggar faded and disappeared.

“Cole?” Joe called again, nearer this time.

Cole stood up and peered over the bushes. Joe was coming back toward the shrine along a trail. “I'm coming,” Cole answered, dodging around vegetation.

As Cole reached the path, a short woman in a silk robe marched up to him. “Leaving the footpaths is prohibited throughout the garden,” she scolded.

Cole considered a joke about going to the bathroom but reconsidered given her stern expression. “An echo led me,” he explained. “I'm sorry.”

“Any respectable echo knows to stay on the paths,” she complained.

“It's my first time here,” Cole apologized.

“And your last if you don't watch yourself,” she said.

“Is there a problem?” Joe asked, approaching. He was tall and well-dressed, with a stubbly beard. Cole could imagine Joe back home in California, playing with his band. Joe flashed his most disarming smile.

“He's with you?” the woman asked.

“Yes,” Joe said. “Thanks for finding him. I'd lost sight of him.”

“Don't give me the lovable-scoundrel routine,” the woman said. “It carries no weight at the Seven-Cornered Shrine. Is he Cole?”

“That's right,” Joe confirmed.

She squared up to face him, hands on her hips. “Please don't raise your voice in the gardens. You were crying out like you would for a dog lost in the wilderness! Have you no sense of decorum? This is a place of tranquility. Be responsible! The boy wandered off the path.”

“My apologies,” Joe said, placing a hand on his chest. “Won't happen again.”

“It won't for sure if I ban you,” she said. “Watch yourselves. You've been warned. You're on your way out I hope?”

“You guessed it,” Joe said. “Good day.”

He laid a hand on Cole's shoulder and guided him along the path toward the shrine.

“Where are the others?” Cole murmured as they entered the ornate building.

“Out in front,” Joe said. “Sally got a disturbing tip, so we all cleared out. You were the last.”

“Did she get any leads on her sisters?”

“Wait until we have more privacy,” Joe said.

A large coach awaited them in front of the shrine. Joe guided Cole to the horse-drawn vehicle, and they both climbed inside the compartment. Cole joined Hunter and Dalton on a cushioned bench facing Mira, Jace, and Joe. Jace drew the curtains closed as the coach started rolling.

“Where were you?” Mira asked Cole. “We looked all over.”

“He was right by the shrine,” Joe said. “He'd gone off the path into the bushes.”

“I needed a restroom too,” Dalton said.

“No,” Cole said. “I was with an echo.”

“How much did you spill?” Jace asked, an edge to his voice.

“I told who I was looking for,” Cole said. “I didn't say anything about you guys.”

“We can speak freely,” Hunter said. “I'm blocking the area inside the coach from echoes.”

“Sally learned some scary stuff,” Dalton explained to Cole.

“I met a woman from my childhood,” Mira said. “Zelna Laperne. She was a maid who spent time with me at the castle. She's been an echo for decades now.”

“Did she have any leads on your sisters?” Cole asked, unsure what exactly he hoped to hear. Part of him wanted the info he got from Sando to save the day.

“Zelna could only confirm that Nazeem is looking for them,” Mira said. “It sounds like he's hunting you too, Cole.”

“He didn't seem happy the last time we met,” Cole said.

“Zelna warned me that the shrine is swarming with his agents,” Mira said. “Nazeem's influence in the echolands has grown really strong almost overnight. Nobody had heard his name until recently. When Zelna recognized me, she made contact to caution me to stay away from shrines. They're being heavily watched. I thought we should regroup before asking more questions.”