darkened blade_ A fallen blade novel - Kelly McCullough Page 0,127

Signet in my pouch added another beat of urgency to the whole thing. I needed to get this thing settled one way or the other and quickly.

“These didn’t used to be warded.” Kelos’s shroud blotted out the lower portion of a window. “Let’s see . . .” The darkness briefly rose to hide the whole of the pane. “Yes.” A low pop followed and, as the shadow retreated, the window pivoted inward. “They’re often left open for days or weeks at a time to circulate fresh air through the wing.”

Kelos vanished within. Faran went next, and I followed her, glancing back over my shoulder and sending up a silent prayer of thanks to my dead goddess that we hadn’t wakened any of the sleepers under the earth. The paintings and screens we passed as we made our way through the nearer part of the gallery registered as weird, almost nightmarish mélanges of gloss and matte nothings in darksight, a marked contrast to the senses of my body. Shades simply didn’t have the right vision for this kind of art.

The sculpture in the next section was a little better, though not much, as many of the figures were carved or shaped from a single type of material, and to Shade senses that made the representational pieces look disturbingly off. But none of the disconcerting effects caused by seeing the art through a Shade’s “eyes” simultaneously with my own would have prepared me for the true nightmare of the next gallery. Nor Faran either, apparently, as I very nearly slammed into her when she stopped abruptly in the doorway. Our shrouds overlapped in an intimacy unique to our kind as I stopped inches behind her.

“That’s human skin, isn’t it?” she demanded, her quiet voice filled with anger. “What is this place?”

“Let me see.” I put a hand on her shoulder as I slid through the narrow gap between her and the door frame.

I had suspicions cultivated from a long ago discussion with Devin, but I wanted to see for myself. As soon as I slipped past Faran, I took a look around. What I saw hit me like a punch to the heart, temporarily overwhelming the flutters coming from the Signet’s finger. The large room was filled with dozens of frames of varying sizes and shapes, each one displaying a piece of the tattooist’s art. The tattooist’s, and the flayer’s and the tanner’s . . .

Knowing what Devin had told me about the way they were created, I wanted to vomit. Each piece of beautifully tattooed skin had been inked while still attached to a living human being. Only after the artwork had healed completely was it separated from the awake and aware victim and preserved for display. Devin had told me that this Son of Heaven used the technique to punish those of his servants who had especially displeased him; that the flayers were very skilled and that with the aid of magical healing many of their subjects continued to serve the Son after losing the skin of an arm or shoulder. The craftsmanship was exquisite and horrifying.

Devin himself had an incredibly detailed and gorgeous depiction of the god Shan on his left forearm—a warning. The Son had it inscribed and explained to Devin that it was a down payment of sorts. If Devin ever significantly failed him again, the Son would have the piece expanded to cover every inch of Devin’s skin before removing it for display in this gallery.

I couldn’t help but look around then to see if any of the half-dozen full-body pieces included the Shan I had seen on Devin’s arm, but none did. Hopefully that meant he was still breathing and attached to his skin, and not that it was off being prepared for display or in another gallery somewhere. I despised Devin, but not that much, and I pitied him, too.

“Aral?” It was Faran. “Are you all right? You just stopped. . . .”

“Not really. This is . . .”

“An abomination,” hissed Kelos, who had returned from the far end of the gallery. “One that we will hopefully end today. But we really don’t have time to be properly horrified. We need to keep moving. Now, come on!”

As we started after Kelos, I leaned in close to Faran’s ear. “This is the Son’s failure gallery and I was looking for Devin’s hide. I don’t see it.”

“You knew about this place?” she asked.

I shrugged, though she couldn’t see it through my shroud. “Sort of, maybe. Devin