Death Weavers (9 page)

“I know,” Cole said.

“Proceed if you wish,” the woman said. “You've been warned.”

Cole walked over to her. “Who are you?”

She ducked her head and held up both hands. “Not your business. I came here by accident. So I warn people who enter. I spare the unwary from surprises.”

“You're an imprint,” Cole said.

“You've already come too far,” she said. “You'll leave one too.”

“Do you mind it here?” Cole wondered.

The woman folded her arms and looked a little puzzled. “Honestly? I got more than I bargained for when I came in. But I can't say I'm suffering.”

“Don't you get bored?” Cole asked.

She scrunched her eyebrows. “Funny—I can't recall. I guess that means I don't. I remember coming here with my husband and exploring for a good while. Once we went to exit the cave, it gets fuzzy.” She looked around, peering toward the colored passages. “My husband isn't with me. I suppose he wandered off. Not sure how long ago. He always had wanderlust. It was why we stumbled across the cave in the first place.”

“How long ago?”

She looked perplexed. “Feels like it's been a while. Maybe not? Time gets funny in here. We learned that we had found the Cave of Memory from some of the imprints while we were still tangible. It was strange to meet the imprints. Watch out. Some aren't all there, if you take my meaning.” She pointed a finger at the side of her head and twirled it in little circles.

“Do you miss your husband?” Cole wondered.

She peered around the area again. “I expect I will if he doesn't turn up soon.”

“Do many people come into the cave?” Cole tried.

She stared upward in thought. “Hard to say. Not since I've been here at any rate.”

“Are there two other people in here right now?” Cole asked.

“That doesn't ring true,” she said.

“There were two horses outside,” Cole explained.

She shrugged. “Could be I missed them. Doesn't seem likely, though. Looking back, it gets muddy since I exited the cave.”

Cole remembered Sando explaining that the imprints didn't learn anything new after they were made. How long had this imprint been here? Years, maybe. Or days. Or centuries. If she couldn't remember, it all might feel the same to her.

Cole gestured toward the colorfully glowing passages. “I didn't think of bringing a light.”

“You'll find enough in the cave,” she said. “There are some dark places, to be sure, but never for too long. At least in my experience. This is an enchanted place. Strong weaving. Dates back to near the founding of the Outskirts, so I'm told.”

“What if I'm looking for somebody?” Cole asked.

“Could take some time,” she said. “The cave goes and goes.”

“Any tips to keep me from getting lost?” Cole asked. “Do the colors help?”

“We never made complete sense of the colors,” the woman said. “We got ourselves good and lost, but an imprint gave us the tip that heading down would generally lead us farther in while trending up would lead us out. Not always true in a cave. But true in this one. It's how we found our way back to the entrance.”

“Thanks for the tip,” Cole said. He felt like he should get moving. “You stay here all the time?”

The woman shrugged. “It's good to have a purpose.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Cole said. He glanced over at the colored tunnels. “Any thoughts which I should try first?”

“Far as I could tell, they all lead somewhere.”

Cole headed for the passage with the red glow, since the color made it seem warmer. After walking out of sight from the woman, he paused. How long before she would forget meeting him?

He counted to ten in his head, then returned to her.

“What have we here?” she asked, sizing him up. “An imprint, I take it?”

“I'm a person,” Cole said. “I just came in. We spoke a short time ago.”

The woman broke eye contact and stared at the cave floor. “Did we?” she asked with an embarrassed smile. “Funny how the mind works in here.” She gazed at him suspiciously. “I don't recall you.”

“It's okay,” Cole said, backing away. “I have one of those faces. Very, um, forgettable.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Are you pulling my leg? Did we really speak?”

“Sorry,” Cole said, not wanting to upset her. “Maybe I'm mistaken.”

“Some of you are devils,” she replied huffily. “Not fair to play with a person's mind. Not when they're alone in a cave.”

“Again, sorry,” Cole said, returning to the red tunnel and passing out of view. The ground sloped slightly down ahead of him.

Cole took comfort that the woman wouldn't be confused for long. She would forget him all over again. He tried to imagine how it would feel to forget everything after it happened. Life would be disorienting. Then again, having no sense for how long he had been there would be merciful if he was stuck in a cave forever.

Cole glanced back. Should he be marking his way? Should he have brought more provisions than a water flask? Maybe some rope. He might not need food if he was quick. If his mission took too long, he could always go back and resupply. And if the woman's trick to find the entrance failed, he could probably get directions from imprints. Determined to find Destiny sooner rather than later, Cole quickened his pace.

7

C
ole considered some of the benefits of the imprints making no new memories. For one thing, it meant that his conversations would be forgotten. His inquiries would leave no tracks, and if an interaction went badly, he could go away, come back, and have another try.

That meant he was free to ask for help from any imprints he met. None of them would remember any tips they shared. Only the imprint Cole left behind would know about the imprints he met and the conversations they had. Knowing a version of himself would remain behind, Cole resolved that once he became that imprint, he would keep silent to anyone who tried to pry any information from him. When the time came, he would find a secluded corner of the cave and slip into blissful forgetfulness.

Many of the people who entered the Cave of Memory with important information would probably do likewise. They would want to limit the interactions their imprints had with others. He would have to check all the nooks and crannies and follow tunnels to the end.

One big problem was the other live people.

There were almost certainly at least two other humans in the cave. Maybe more—not everyone had to arrive on horseback.

If not for the other people, Cole realized he could shamelessly roam the cave calling out to Destiny. The imprints who heard him would forget before long, and any who might help him would be drawn to him. It could really speed up the search.

Of course, if she was trying to hide, calling to Destiny might drive her away. He had a feeling that whatever tactics he tried, finding her was going to be a chore.

The cavern widened into a long chamber with several branching passages, each lit by a different color, this time orange, green, yellow, white, and blue. The chamber itself was illuminated by the light spilling from the various tunnels. At the far end of the chamber, a man sat on a rock. His black hair was slicked back, forming a slight widow's peak, and a dark, narrow beard followed the lines of his jaw and surrounded his mouth. He had rings on his fingers and elaborate clothes covered by a rich cape. Cole thought he looked like a professional hypnotist.

“Welcome,” the man said, as if he owned the place, his voice a resonant baritone.

“Hi,” Cole replied.

“You have come seeking my knowledge,” the man declared.

“I don't think so,” Cole said, drawing closer.

“You know who I am.”

“No.”

The man's small smile hinted that he doubted Cole but also suggested he was willing to play along. “Then allow me to introduce myself. I am Harvan Kane.”

He seemed to be waiting for a reaction.

“I'm Cole.”

Harvan gave Cole a shrewd look accompanied by a slow nod. “This is not our first conversation.”

“It is,” Cole said.

“Then why didn't you shake my hand to check if I'm an imprint?”

“I didn't want to be impolite.”

“Nice save,” Harvan said, extending a hand.

Cole waved his hand through Harvan's. He felt nothing.

Harvan flashed a wide grin. “I know how this works, Cole. You can talk to me, then walk away and return with a new tactic. I can't form new memories. At least not beyond a single conversation. You've failed with me before. Probably a lot. This time you're playing the role of the one person in Necronum who doesn't know my name.”

“I've really never heard of you,” Cole assured him.

“Let me save you some time. There are obvious things I must keep hidden, but I am willing to reveal some mysteries.” He looked around the stony chamber. “You may have noticed I'm not exactly hiding.”

“True.” Now that they were talking, Harvan seemed less like a professional hypnotist and more like a guy on an infomercial who was trying to appear successful. “I kind of need to keep moving.”

Harvan considered him carefully. “You're good. Who sent you?”

“Nobody.”

Harvan laughed knowingly. “Nice try. I find that highly improbable. Why would a child come to the Cave of Memory on his own? However . . . those who are after what I know would absolutely hire a kid to deceive me. They would stop at nothing.”

“I'm looking for somebody else,” Cole said, taking a step away from Harvan.

“Answer quickly,” Harvan challenged. “Who is the Grand Shaper of Necronum?”

Cole paused. “I'm not sure. I haven't asked.”

Harvan wagged a scolding finger and smiled. “Not too quick on your feet that time.”

“I really don't know,” Cole said. “I'm new here.”

“You want me disoriented,” Harvan said. “You don't want me to know the year.”

“I'm from outside the Outskirts.”

“What world?” Harvan asked quickly.

“Earth.”

“What country?”

“The United States.”

“What state?”

“Arizona.”

“The territory?”

“It's a state now.”

“What's your favorite food back home?”

“Hamburgers, I guess.”

“Never heard of them.”

“Ground beef on bread.”

“Sounds like pig.”

“You've been here a while.”

Thick rings glinting, Harvan steepled his fingers. “Who is the current High Shaper?”

“Stafford Pemberton.”

Harvan squinted suspiciously. “Never heard of him. How long has he been in office?”

“At least sixty years,” Cole said. “Maybe quite a bit more than that. He ages slowly.”

“What year is it?”

Cole hesitated. “I don't know,” he said, mildly surprised that it was true. “It never comes up.”

“Sounds like I may have been here for longer than I realized,” Harvan said.

“Could be,” Cole said. “Especially if you can't make new memories.”

Realization dawned on Harvan's face. “You're counting on that. I can't trust a word you say. You're trying to play me. You're no Outsider. You created a false identity through research. Arizona was a nice touch. You must have heard of my interest in the Outside. And you've clearly fabricated an imaginary High Shaper to convince me that I've been here for ages, so I'll let my guard down. Bring better deceptions next time, pup. Or better yet, don't try again. Nobody outfoxes Harvan Kane.”

Cole gave no reply. The conversation was going nowhere. He needed to keep moving. Was it rude to walk away from somebody who wasn't really a person? No, right? Especially when the nonperson wouldn't even remember.

“I see I struck a nerve,” Harvan gloated. “Better luck next time, young pup. Word of advice—just deal plainly. You won't get anywhere with me using guile.”