Secrets of Moth (The Moth Saga, Book 3) (16 page)

"It says here . . . "
He brought the book closer to his eyes and blew off dust. "The
ziggurat was built over four thousand years ago by Kah— by Khar—
Kaer . . ."

Linee rolled her eyes. "Kaeorin
the Conqueror, Son of Asharpel, Blessed King of Ancient Eseer."

He gave her a sidelong glance.
"When did you sneak a peek at this book?"

She groaned. "I do not
sneak peeks, Camlin Shepherd. I'm an educated woman. I went to
school. Granted, I spent most of my time there drawing birds and
butterflies in my books, but I picked up some things. Don't bother
giving yourself a headache reading that tattered old thing. All
educated, highborn ladies like myself know of Kaeorin the Conqueror,
Son of Asharpel, Blessed King of Ancient Eseer. He's a legend."

He slammed the book shut. "Well
I've never heard of him."

"You'd never heard of a
peacock until we saw one in the city. I might be silly, but unlike
you, I did receive a proper education. My teachers told me the tale.
Kaeorin built the ziggurat for his wife, the beautiful Queen Ferisi,
to entomb her when she died. He died too just after completing the
monument. They buried them together." She clasped her hands
together. "It's such a beautiful, romantic story."

"Two lovers who died and
were buried? That's romantic?"

She nodded. "Yes! You and I
will be buried together someday in a magnificent mausoleum too."

Cam rolled his eyes. "You're
making this up. If you'd heard the story before, you'd have known
what a ziggurat is. You wouldn't have spent your time in the city
chasing zigzagging rodents."

"Well . . ." She
looked down at her lap. "Maybe I forgot that part of the story
until you reminded me. But I'm almost certain my teachers never
called it a ziggurat. They probably called it a beautiful palace."

"And they probably called
camels 'horses,' sand 'gardens,' and scorpions 'butterflies,' knowing
that's the only way you'd understand."

She nodded. "They probably
did. Oh, Camlin, do you think we'll meet the beautiful Queen Ferisi
and her noble, brave husband Kaeorin the Conqueror, Son of Asharpel,
Blessed King of Ancient Eseer? Do you think they're still here?"

"If they are, they're
nothing but dust."

As
they kept riding through the desert, they passed by ruins protruding
from the sand. A woman's face carved in sandstone rose to their left,
larger than a carrack and staring skyward. A stone hand, large enough
to hold a whale, rose not far beyond it, the sand rising halfway up
its palm. As they kept riding, they passed the tip of an obelisk, the
capitals of buried columns, and the sandstone head of a cat, large as
a hill. This place had once been a great city, Cam realized, full of
temples and palaces and soaring statues. He wondered why the ziggurat
still stood while the other artifacts were buried, then realized:
most of the ziggurat
was
buried, and the massive structure ahead—larger than any palace he'd
seen—was simply its peak.

Finally they crossed the valley
and reached the ziggurat's steps. Sand fluttered around them. Upon
his camel, Cam tilted back his head and gazed up the staircase. It
rose a thousand steps or more, crawling up the windowless facade like
a spine, leading to the archway at the ziggurat's crest.

"Amaran," whispered
their guide and clutched his amulet. It was shaped as a man with the
head of a dragonfly—the god Amaran the Guardian, a deity of the
desert. The guide spoke some more in his tongue, and Cam didn't need
to understand Eseerian to know the child was scared, that he spoke of
old curses.

"We
climb from here," Cam said. "
Kei!
Kei!
"

At the command, his camel knelt
and Cam dismounted. Linee climbed off her own camel, slipping and
falling onto her backside in the sand. Cam helped her up, then
loosened his sword in its scabbard. The child was still muttering,
sweat on his brow. Cam didn't believe in curses or monsters, but the
guide's behavior unnerved him.

He pointed up the stairs. "We
climb. Come with us." He took a step onto the stairway and
gestured for the guide to follow, but the boy only shook his head,
speaking feverishly in his tongue.

"The poor boy is
terrified," Linee said. "Do you think there are monsters
here? Or ghosts? What's he saying?"

Cam shrugged. "You saw the
city of Kahtef. Every road has five stalls selling charms and
potions. Superstition fills the desert. But you and I are Ardish
folk. We believe in the evil of men, not spirits or magic."

He tried not to think of the
dark magic of Mageria shattering the walls of Yintao, the fiery magic
that had engulfed Ferius in flame, or the dragons he'd seen. Linee
didn't need to think about that now either, or soon she'd be
trembling and fleeing.

He reached into his pocket,
fished out three coins, and handed them to their guide. "Come
with us." He pointed up the stairs. "We could use help."

Hand shaking, the boy reached
out to take the coins. Before he could grab them, a metallic shriek
cascaded down the ziggurat.

Cam winced. It sounded like
rusted sheets of metal scraping together, rising higher and higher
until the sound shattered and vanished. He spun back toward the
stairway, stared upward, and saw a shimmer in the doorway like dulled
armor. Whoever or whatever stood there quickly vanished.

"Clockwork men . . ."
Line whispered. "Like in the painting."

"
Het,
het
!"
rose their guide's voice. When Cam spun around, he saw the child back
on his camel. The animal burst into a gallop. Its two friends, the
camels Linee and Cam had ridden here, ran with it.

"Come back!" Linee
shouted, waving, and turned toward Cam. "He's escaping with our
rides!"

Cam bit his lip, placed a palm
over his eyes, and stared into the desert. The camels were racing in
a cloud of dust; Linee and he would never catch up. The city of
Kahtef lay beyond the horizon.

"Looks like we walk back."
He sighed. "The same damn thing happened in Leen. Why do our
guides always abandon us?"

"They
abandon
you
,
Camlin." Linee glared at him. "I'm fun and beautiful.
You're always scowling, and you're always leading us to these scary
places, so of course they run.
I
wanted to find a cute little rodent, but you had to choose this
ziggurat. Well, fine! Let's find your stupid clock hand and go home."

Cam reached into his pack and
pulled out his tunic of scales, the armor the Chanku Pack had given
him. It unrolled, chinking like a bag of coins, and Cam pulled it
over his head.

"Linee, armor on!"

She shook her head. "Armor
is ugly."

"So are the wounds
clockwork men can give you. Armor!"

She groaned but she reached into
her pack, pulled out her own shirt of scales, and donned the clanking
garment. Cam drew his sword and Linee drew her dagger. They began to
climb the stairway, moving up the ziggurat's outer plain.

The stairway was wide enough for
a dozen men to walk abreast, and the steps were carved for taller
folk than them. After a hundred steps, Cam was sweating and wheezing,
and he had barely climbed a tenth of the way up.

At his side, Linee looked just
as weary. "Camlin, can I have a piggyback ride?"

He glowered. "No!"

She pouted. "But I'm
tired."

"Good, maybe you'll be too
tired for sulking soon. Keep climbing."

After what seemed like hours,
soaked in sweat and dizzy with weariness, they finally reached the
top. Panting, Linee had to crawl the last few steps. The desert
rolled around them into the horizons. Before them loomed the doorway
into the ziggurat, a square of stone and shadow tall enough for a
ship to sail through. A scorpion engraving glared down from the
keystone. Cold wind blew from within, scented of mold and death. When
Cam peered into the shadows, sword raised, he no longer saw movement,
and he no longer heard that metallic shriek.

"Is the monster still
there?" Linee whispered, rising to stand beside him, dagger
shaking in her hand.

"I told you. There's no
such thing as monsters. Now let's—"

A shriek slammed into his
eardrums.

Light flashed.

Metal burst out from the
gateway.

Cam shouted and leaped sideways.
Linee shrieked and jumped the other way.

A creature of metal, rope, and
spinning blades lunged onto the stairway. Orange eyes blazed. Cam
raised his sword. A spinning disk slammed into the blade, chipping
it. Circular saws thrust his way, and he ducked; one spun over his
head. Rust showered. Cam leaped off the stairway, landing on the
ziggurat's brick facade, and clung to the rough stone.

With clanks and screeches, the
metallic contraption retreated back into the doorway like a snake
into its burrow, leaving a shower of dust.

"Linee! Are you hurt?"

She crouched across the other
side of the stairway, similarly clinging to the sloping facade. She
was pale and shivering but seemed unhurt. Cam guessed that the
ziggurat walls had once been smooth, sending people sliding down to
the desert, but time had left pockmarks and cracks for purchase.

"A monster," Linee
whispered, clinging on.

Cam shook his head. "A
machine. Circular blades on ropes. A booby trap."

"But I saw eyes!"
Linee said from across the staircase.

He nodded. "A doll has
eyes. A trap can too."

He rifled through his pocket,
found a bread roll, and tossed it onto the stairs.

The booby trap burst out again,
saws spinning, eyes of glass reflecting the sun, old chains and ropes
creaking. Cam stared, mumbling, memorizing. The contraption retreated
back into the doorway.

Cam tightened his grip on his
chipped sword. He reached into his collar, fished out his half-sun
amulet—symbol of Idar—and kissed it for luck. He nodded, gulped,
and began climbing back onto the staircase.

"Duck, then leap right,
then back . . ." he muttered.

Linee gasped. "Camlin,
stop—"

Before she could complete her
sentence, the booby trap burst out from the doorway again.

Cam ducked beneath a spinning
blade. He jumped to the right, closer to the archway, dodging another
blade. He swung down his sword.

The blade sliced through a rope.

Cam leaped back.

The contraption screamed. A
circular saw tore free and crashed down the stairs, showering sparks.
A second blade broke loose and shot out, and Cam ducked; it flew over
his head. Resisting the urge to leap back, Cam sprang forward, swung
his sword again, and sliced through two more ropes.

Metal pieces tore free and
scattered down the stairway. The booby trap collapsed. Blades
clattered down. With a shower of rust, silence fell. The broken
pieces rolled away.

Cam coughed and waved to scatter
dust. A flying piece had scraped his side, and he winced to see
blood. He struggled back onto the stairway. Linee joined him,
coughing too. One of the trap's eyes—a sphere of murky glass—lay at
their feet. Linee kicked it away.

"One monster slain,"
Cam said. "Do you see a clock hand among this mess?"

She placed her hands on her hips
and glared at him. "I see a stupid, woolheaded shepherd's boy
who almost got himself killed!" She slapped his chest. "How
dare you attack spinning blades like that? You could have died."

He managed a shaky smile. "I'm
still alive. And you sound like Bailey."

She stared, eyes flashing, but
then her expression softened and she embraced him. "Just be more
careful, you silly thing. Don't leave me alone in this desert."
She kissed his cheek, then spat. "You taste of rust and sand."

In their right hands, they
raised their blades. Their left hands clasped together. Stepping over
the debris, they walked through the doorway and into the darkness.

 
 
CHAPTER FIFTEEN:
THE WEAVEWORMS

They climbed the mountain,
heading toward the worms—a scarred Qaelish woman in armor, a katana
and shield in her hands; a diminutive assassin in black silk, daggers
hanging from her belt; and a silent giant with a chest like a boulder
and fists the size of heads. Above them, bulging over the rest of the
island, loomed a city of iron spikes, strands of silk, and countless
cocoons the size of men.

"There are monsters up
there," Nitomi whispered, tiptoeing up the mountainside. The
dojai assassin clutched a dagger in each hand; the blades were
shaking. "Oh, Koyee, there are monsters there, I know it. Can we
please go back? I want to go away. I don't want to face monsters.
Maybe we can find a gear elsewhere, maybe in a gear store. Do you
think they have gear stores? I saw a store once that only sold
dollhouses. You wouldn't think an entire store would only sell
dollhouses, but I saw it once in the south, and I wanted to buy one,
I really did, but my mother said I'm too old, and then I wanted to
buy a pet spider but—"

"Hush!" Koyee said.
"Please."

Nitomi slapped her palm against
her mouth, nearly stabbing herself with her dagger, and nodded. They
kept climbing, silent but for the rustle of their clothes in the
wind.

The village of the Montai folk
was now a distant patch of light below. As they kept climbing the
mountain, Koyee stared upward. Spikes of metal covered the
mountaintop, curling and twisting; they reminded Koyee of the
brambles in the dusk. Some coiled only several feet tall, and others
pierced the sky, high as towers, twisting and curling. Koyee wondered
if these had been the foundations of an ancient city, its walls
fallen ages ago. Countless strands of silk hung between the spikes
like cobwebs, and among them hung cocoons large enough to seal men.
With every gust of wind, the silky strands fluttered and the cocoons
swayed like bodies hanging from gallows.