nature, though, hence the flux.”
“How very learned for a simple thief,” said Morgant.
Nasser offered a lazy smile. “One hears things now and again.”
“If that is true,” said Kylon, “then I would say I’m sensing a spirit that is still in the netherworld. The nagataaru I’ve sensed were always in flux. So was the Sifter. But these spirits are frozen. As if they were still in the netherworld.”
“Callatas burned Iramis,” said Morgant. “I know. I was there. These crystals appeared in the moment Callatas lifted the Star and burned the city. Why would he bind spirits into crystalline pillars at the same time? Seems rather an excessive amount of work.”
“For the same reason he does anything,” said Nasser, a hard edge to his voice. “To further his work and his Apotheosis. Lord Kylon. Can you tell what manner of spirit is bound within the pillars?”
The light seemed to burn into Caina’s eyes, sinking into her mind and heart as the sorcerous aura tightened around her.
“I fear not,” said Kylon. “I have not possessed this ability for very long. I know what a nagataaru feels like, or an ifrit after that business with the Sifter. Other than that I can only guess.”
“Pity,” said Morgant. “Well, I think…”
Caina reached out and touched the crystal. It felt cold, icy cold, beneath her fingers.
“No!” said Kylon. “Don’t…”
The world vanished around her.
Suddenly she stood in a square of golden stone, a grand gleaming palace rising before it, its golden domes trimmed with white. Screams and shouts rose around her, people in strange robes fleeing in all directions. A man in ornate silvered armor sprinted for the doors of the palace, shouting and reaching out his hand. A woman of stunning beauty ran toward him, children running in her awake. The armored man reached for her with his hand…
Callatas’s voice thundered from overhead.
Fire exploded from the sky.
Fire exploded from the earth.
Fire exploded from the air.
Caina screamed in agony as the flames chewed into her flesh, the screams of uncounted thousands filling her ears…
“Ciaran,” said a man’s deep voice. “Ciaran!”
Caina took a deep breath, and the vision unraveled into nothingness.
She was lying on her back, Kylon kneeling over her, Nasser and Morgant staring down at her. Kylon looked alarmed and Nasser looked concerned. Morgant merely seemed confused. Caina just felt foolish. She should have known better than to touch the damned thing.
“Ciaran,” said Kylon. “Can you hear me?”
“Yes,” said Caina, and Kylon helped her sit up. “I just…” She shook her head. “That was quite a shock.” She looked at the others. “Don’t touch the crystals.”
“I could have told you that,” said Morgant.
“What happened?” said Kylon.
“I had a vision,” said Caina. “Of Iramis. I was…I was someone in the city. The day Callatas destroyed it. I saw the city burn. I saw a man trying save his family. Then they burned. They all burned. They…”
She scrambled to her feet, putting as much distance between her and the crystal as she could. Her legs wavered a bit, and she felt Kylon’s hand tighten about her arm.
“A memory,” she said. “Gods, the crystal’s a memory. A memory, frozen in physical form. The memories of everyone Callatas killed on that day.” The thought made her shiver. “There were a quarter of a million of people in Iramis, and the gods know how many in the countryside. So many people.”
“You see, then,” murmured Nasser, “the depth of his evil. Why I have spent so many years opposing him by whatever means I could.”
“The Desert of Candles?” said Caina, trying to shake of the shock of the vision. “The wrong name. The Desert of Corpses. Not candles.”
“North of here,” said Morgant in a quiet voice, “in the far northeastern Empire, in the marshes of the Ulkaari and the Iazyn, sometimes rotting plants are trapped beneath the waters, and the gases catch aflame.” His words did not carry their usual mocking bombast. “The Ulkaari shamans call them corpse candles and believe that the flames mark the locations of the cursed dead. Behold, then.” He waved a hand at the thousands of crystalline columns stretching away to the east. “Corpse candles beyond count. The Desert of Candles.”
“Gods,” said Caina, trying to pull herself together. “I can see why the tribesmen believe it is haunted.”
“In a way,” said Kylon, his fingers still resting on her arm, “it is.”
“Fortunately,” said Nasser, “that will ensure we are not troubled. Come. Let us locate a campsite. We shall rest, and then proceed in haste tomorrow. If we do not