darkened blade_ A fallen blade novel - Kelly McCullough Page 0,119

I pushed it aside. I might not want to deal with the Son of Heaven, but I knew that I had to face him, and this might be my only chance.

And, honestly, where we were when Siri started her diversion didn’t really matter. It wouldn’t affect her choices at all. I ducked my head under the surface and looked around. Kelos was perhaps ten feet ahead of me, unshrouded and pulling himself along the roof of the broad tunnel—easily visible because of the bright magelight dangling from his belt. The water was so clear that he seemed to be hanging in empty space, or clinging impossibly to the roof of the tunnel. The stone of the walls was the color of clover honey and rough cut. It also glowed very faintly golden with spell-light. I released Triss then, since we apparently weren’t worrying about light or being seen.

What’s going on? he asked.

Kelos is playing us again. I’ll tell you about it as we go.

Of course he is. Triss continued to whisper into my mind for several long seconds after that, but he shifted to the language of the Shades, and all that I could tell was that he was swearing calmly and at length. I felt the same way.

“Do we even need Siri’s diversion anymore?” I asked as I began to pull myself along behind Kelos—a faint but distinct current helped me along.

“Of course we do,” said Kelos. “That’s always been part of the plan if I could manage it. It’s why I convinced Roric that he should talk Jax into sending along some of the youngsters as ‘observers.’ Though, honestly, I’m not sure whether the risen will be more or less susceptible to the call of distraction than the Hand and the Sword would have been.”

“Always?” I said, rather shocked at the lack of any heat to my anger. I was more tired of Kelos’s shit than anything.

“Well, since Chomarr told us about the new arrangements and I had to recalculate this version of the plan as a group effort, anyway. More recently, the water entrance was a third-order backup plan involving just you or Siri, with me trailing myself through town as bait to distract people from noticing the falling wells. But then you didn’t kill the Son of Heaven, and I had to bump it up the list.”

“I thought you said the wards down here were unbreakable,” Faran called as she caught up to me.

“They are,” replied Kelos. “That’s why I had to get my Durkoth Uthudor to create a temporary way to rechannel the system inflow here. That’s what I triggered with that spell, by the way. Without the air pockets created by diverting the water, this approach would be utterly impossible. That’s why I’m so sure the Son of Heaven won’t have bothered to rekey the wards on the gates down here. There is no good way for him to drain the aqueducts and access them without a massive investment of time and magic. He has plenty of the former, but has become ever weaker in the latter.”

“Why are we using a light?” grumbled Ssithra. “Especially such a bright one?”

“Risen,” replied Kelos. “The Son of Heaven has kept a few of his nasties down here since the beginning.”

Faran made a face. “Ewww, what does that do to the water?”

“Nothing too horrible as long as he keeps the number small,” said Kelos. “The only disease the restless dead carry is the curse itself, and they mostly stop losing bits after a while. Especially if they’ve been dry cured and then limed and pickled. It’s not like wild water, so there’s no conflicting elemental magic to wear them away.”

“I know I’m going to hate myself for asking,” said Faran, “but, dry cured? Limed and pickled? I’ve never heard of either of those things before, at least not with regards to the restless dead.”

“I think the Son invented both techniques. For dry curing, he takes a risen and packs them in a barrel of salt for a few months. At the end of that time, their flesh is essentially the texture of jerky. Liming and pickling are a part of the tanning process, and comes after dry curing—he needs to get most of the moisture out of the flesh first. I believe that he has also tried smoking them, though that was less effective. And the natron method rendered them incredibly vulnerable to any kind of open flame.”

“Is it my imagination,” I asked then, “or is the current