a person’s blood when they ask about areas open only to the bonemen,” said Silas. “A group of tiles is meant to be read together. The snowflake represents your uncle, the book and doorway indicate a place of books, and the key means a secret or a lock. If this is correct, Da’ru has somehow found her way into the bonemen’s ancient library, one so well hidden that it has proved impossible to find for centuries. It was said that only the bonemen could ask the spirit wheels for its location. Da’ru makes every one of her new servants use one of the wheels, just in case they carry the right blood to be shown the way. I doubt it is a coincidence that she found the library the very day your uncle was sold into her service. And if he carries the blood of the bonemen”—the wheel sprang into action and Silas smiled—“that means you carry it, too.”
This time it was not only the outer symbols that moved. The central moon sank back as well, turning on its axis to reveal a reverse side carved with a perfect spiral.
“The blood of the bonemen is the key to more knowledge than you can imagine,” said Silas. “Da’ru has been searching for their library for years. It is no secret that the Skilled already know its location and she believes they have hidden Wintercraft inside. I need that book, Miss Winters. We must find it first. Ask the wheel to show you the way.”
Kate pushed her hand warily against the stone and the tiles settled into place at once. Silas studied them closely, but Kate already knew what they would say. If she was going to hide something important, there was only one place she would choose. In the deepest place, the darkest place. Four tiles were illuminated: a skull, an ornate number three, a horizontal line, and an arrow pointing down.
Silas translated them out loud. “Third tomb cavern. Lowest level. This way.”
The city beneath Fume was even larger than the one above. Hidden beneath the foundations of the upper city’s tall black towers were staircases that curled impossibly far down into the darkness and paths so narrow they were no more than cracks in the earth. As they went deeper, those narrow ways widened into vast chambers linked together by corridors, like beads on a string. More stone bridges hung over dizzying drops and from them Kate caught glimpses of eerie streets and buildings flecked with distant lantern light.
“The Skilled are not the only people who hide down here,” said Silas. “Keep moving.”
Silas did not seem to mind the darkness and dankness that closed in around them. He moved like a shadow, with a stolen lantern in one hand and his blue-black sword sheathed at his side; Kate wondered again why a man as strong and ruthless as he was would want to deliberately end his existence.
Kate’s reflection followed her along the windows of a sunken street and twice she flinched, thinking that the face she could see in the ancient windows was not her own. She began to sense movement everywhere, in every shadow, every window, and she could hear strange sounds whispering on the air. Each time she heard something, it became harder to dismiss it as pure imagination, and when she reached a corner filled with black windows she heard a shade’s voice clearly for the first time.
“Winters.”
Kate felt something break, as if a barrier had fallen, and a wave of cold wrapped around her, drowning out everything except the presence of hundreds of spirits that she could not see. She sensed them as they had been in life, their stories flashing through her thoughts.
“. . . she is listening . . .”
“. . . traveling with him . . .”
“. . . Silas . . .”
Some of the voices seemed to shrink back in fear. Kate stood still, not knowing what to do.
“. . . find the book . . .”
“. . . keep it safe . . .”
“. . . she can release us . . .”
“. . . prisoners . . .”
“. . . bound by blood . . .”
Up ahead, Silas stopped and looked back at her with suspicion. Kate forced herself to catch up, her heart racing as she ran. Ghostly forms gathered in every window she passed, whispering to her, watching her. She dared not look back.
“. . . guard the book . . .”
“. . . return for us .