Death Weavers Read online

  “It’s a good way to avoid trouble,” she said.

  “Do you know where we can find Honor or Destiny?” Dalton inquired.

  “I didn’t know Honor might be in Necronum until you mentioned it,” she said. “There has been a lot of new talk about the Pemberton girls lately. I’ve heard rumors that Destiny is in hiding here, but I have no idea where.”

  “Not many people know the Pemberton girls are alive,” Cole said.

  “We’ve had those rumors for ages in the echolands,” the teen said. “Since before my body died. Of course, not all rumors are true.”

  “When did you die?” Cole asked.

  “Almost twenty years ago,” the girl said.

  “You were a teenager?” Dalton asked.

  “Fourteen,” the girl said.

  “Your echo doesn’t age,” Cole noted.

  “Not normally,” the girl said. “You tend to look how your body looked when it died, though old people almost always appear a bit younger. At least until you move on. Who knows what lies beyond the echolands?”

  “You’re not in heaven?” Dalton asked.

  The girl giggled again. “I sure hope not. You guys really don’t know much, do you?”

  “Like what?” Cole asked.

  “The echolands are only the beginning of the afterlife,” the girl said. “Not much more than a jumping-off point, really. Your echo is temporary. You can linger here for a time, but eventually you move on.”

  “To where?” Dalton wondered.

  “I’d have to go there to find out,” the teen said. “Nobody returns.”

  “Why not get moving?” Cole asked.

  “Are you trying to kill me off?” the teen asked, mildly offended.

  “No,” Cole said. “But if you have someplace else to go, why stay?”

  “Why do you go on living?” she countered. “You could come here.”

  “I’m alive,” Cole said. “You died. Why not go to heaven?”

  She stared off to one side, her gaze slightly skyward. “I could, I suppose. I don’t feel ready. I’m not sure what to expect. You call it heaven. Hopefully, that’s what it is. You don’t learn much just by dying. You become an echo and see there is an afterlife. But nobody here has been beyond the echolands, so everyone is still just guessing. Moving on will mean leaving behind the echo of my body. I feel the call sometimes. It’s exciting but also scary. Unknown. I want to wait for my mother to join me. It would be nicer to set off together. But her heart keeps ticking.”

  “How’d you die?” Cole asked.

  “You’re nosy,” she said.

  “You’re the one who was spying on us,” Cole reminded her.

  “It wasn’t very nice,” she said. “I had a lung disease. In the end I couldn’t breathe. I was full of liquid. It felt like drowning.”

  “That’s horrible,” Dalton said, scrunching his face.

  “It seemed pretty awful at the time,” the teen admitted.

  “What’s your name?” Cole asked.

  “I was starting to wonder if you’d ask,” she said with a giggle. “That usually comes before the details of your death. I’m Yeardly. You’re Cole and Dalton. I’ve been listening since you entered the garden.”

  “You know what we’re after,” Cole said. “Is there any way you can help us?”

  “I’ve been helping you!” Yeardly exclaimed, sounding a little exasperated. “I felt bad for you. I mean, you’re kids! I told you to watch your words because others are listening. Who is Jenna?”

  “My friend,” Cole said. “We came to the five kingdoms from Outside. Slave traders brought us. I want to find her.”

  “I hear the Temple of the Still Water is beautiful,” Yeardly said. “I’ve never been there. It’s far away.”

  “Don’t you travel?” Dalton asked.

  “Why?” Yeardly asked. “I’ve gotten to know the echoes here, and the lay of the land. I have a good shrine for when I want contact with mortals. And I’m close to my hometown for when Mom crosses over.”

  Cole spoke quieter. “Is there anybody who might know where we can find Honor or Destiny? Can you point us in the right direction?”

  “Somebody might know,” Yeardly said. “Hard to say who. I haven’t caught wind of any rumors about their locations.” She paused. “Tell me about Aaron.”

  Cole stared at her. She had paid attention to their names. Good thing Hunter had suggested aliases. Aaron was Hunter’s middle name and the name of Cole’s paternal grandfather. The name Sally for Mira came from an old nickname derived from her middle name, Salandra. Hunter had maintained it was best to use codenames that weren’t complete lies, because some echoes were experts at detecting falsehood.

  While serving as one of the most feared of the High King’s Enforcers, Hunter had typically covered his face with a mask. As a result, to move around anonymously, he could simply dress in normal clothes and let his face show. Cole didn’t like Yeardly’s interest in his brother. If word got out who he really was, it could bring a lot of trouble. Had they made a mistake? Had Hunter’s identity slipped?

  “Why?” Dalton asked.

  “No big reason,” Yeardly said. Her tone was casual, but her eyes showed real interest. “He seemed to be in charge. I like the way he carries himself.”

  “You like him!” Cole realized.

  Yeardly tried to look innocent. “I’m just interested. How about the other one? Jace?”

  “I get it,” Dalton said. “We’re the approachable guys. They’re the cool ones.”

  “You’re all great,” Yeardly assured him. She couldn’t hide a little grin. “But they’re a little extra great. Who was that girl with you at the start? Sally? Jace seemed to have eyes for her.”

  “She’s nobody,” Cole said. “Jace does like her, but he’d be mad if anybody knew.”

  Yeardly clapped her hands and grinned with delight. “That’s my kind of secret! Do you like her too?”

  “Not like a girlfriend,” Cole said.

  “No,” Yeardly said. “But I saw something when you talked about Jenna.”

  Cole became very interested in a flowering bush off to one side. “Maybe. She’s mostly a friend.”

  “Mostly because you’re not sure it’s mutual yet,” Yeardly said with a giggle, clapping again. “This is a cause I can get behind. Trying to find and rescue the unrealized love of your life.”

  “I don’t know if I’d say—” Cole began.

  “Shush!” Yeardly held a finger toward his lips. “Don’t spoil it. Listen, if you guys don’t wander off too far, I’ll do what I can to help you.”

  “But you don’t know anything,” Cole reminded her.

  Yeardly winked. “Not yet. Hard to say what a curious echo might do if she puts her mind to it.”

  “We’d appreciate any help,” Dalton said.

  Yeardly smiled. “Of course you would. Especially if I make no demands in return. Tell you what, when the time is right, I may ask to be introduced to Aaron. Think you could manage that?”

  “Sure,” Cole said. “Knowing him is no big deal.”

  Her eyes flashed with interest. “Maybe not to you. Good luck!”

  Yeardly disappeared.

  Cole looked at Dalton. His friend sighed.

  “This is a weird place,” Dalton said.

  “Not a bad start.”

  “We should probably split up.”

  Cole started down the untraveled path to the right, and Dalton proceeded to the left. Soon shrubs, trees, and irregularities in the terrain screened Dalton from view. Reaching more intersections, Cole took a meandering route beside streams and hedges, then entered a corridor of trellises that arched overhead to create a curved ceiling of flowering vines.

  A laughing boy raced through one blossoming wall of the corridor, ran along it for a stretch, then lunged through the other side just as a second boy came into view. Though younger than the first, the second boy dashed after him, plunging through the trellis wall.

  Ap
proaching the section where the boys had vanished, Cole found no space through which they could have fit. They had passed through solid wood laced with vegetation. More echoes.

  Beyond the corridor, Cole followed a circuitous path of gray pebbles around several mounds where dense, thorny shrubs with dark green leaves flourished. Several little paths branched off, ending abruptly at benches. Near one bench, a dignified man in a fancy coat stood very straight. He had a bony nose and thick, wavy, white hair. He was semitransparent, allowing Cole to view the garden directly behind him almost as clearly as the background to either side.

  Gathering his courage, Cole turned down the path that led to the man’s bench and stared up at him. He was quite tall. Though the echo had glanced at Cole as he approached, he now acted oblivious to his presence.

  “Are you an echo?” Cole asked.

  The man glanced down with no hint of a smile. “We both know the answer to that question, which makes it hardly worth asking. Run along.”

  “I was just trying to start a conversation,” Cole explained.

  “Your overture was as thrilling as a remark about the weather,” the man said flatly, no longer making eye contact.

  “I’m looking for information,” Cole said.

  “I possess vast stockpiles,” the man said, examining his fingernails.

  “Great.”

  The man’s eyes shifted to regard Cole. “I do not invite common urchins into my confidence. Run along, boy.”

  “Do you even know who I am?”

  The man gave half a smirk. “One of my valets inspected you and your cohorts upon entry. I heard big talk of princesses and Nazeem. You are clearly pretenders.” The man drew out a handkerchief and waved him away. “So . . . go pretend.”

  Cole felt himself getting mad. He knew that probably wasn’t smart but couldn’t help it. “Shows how much you know.”

  “Perhaps it does,” the man said dryly.

  Cole turned away. “Forget it.”

  “Already done,” the man said with relief.

  Cole took a few steps. The man made no effort to stop him. He seemed really not to care. Or maybe he was expertly baiting him. Either way, Cole couldn’t resist and turned back.

  “I’ve seen three of the princesses,” he said.

  The stuffy man raised his eyebrows as he polished a cuff link. “Not just one? Three of the five? Extraordinary. And highly credible.”

  Cole had to bite his tongue to keep from revealing Mira’s identity. That wasn’t his secret to share. Maybe leaving was the best option.

  “And still you linger,” the man said.

  “What can you tell me about Nazeem?” Cole asked.

  The man huffed. “You’re right. Forgive me. Seeing as you have offered definitive proof that you are a close associate of many princesses, I shall now divulge all I know about the most perilous personage in the echolands.”

  “Nazeem lives in the echolands?” Cole asked.

  The man chuckled to himself. “Where did you imagine him? In Necronum?”

  “The Fallen Temple.”

  “Hmmm,” the man said. “Not everyone has connected Nazeem to that location. It is hardly common knowledge. The Fallen Temple has a physical counterpart in Necronum, but Nazeem has long dwelt inside the portion in the echolands.”

  “Nazeem is dead?” Cole asked. That didn’t make sense. At the secret meeting in Junction, Nazeem had talked about returning from captivity.

  The man narrowed his eyes. “His body may have perished. Nazeem is far from dead. And you would do well to avoid mentioning him. These are not matters for amateurs to discuss.”

  Cole felt his face flush. “Amateur? I’ve seen him, mister. Face-to-face. Have you?”

  The man looked down his nose at Cole. “I had you all wrong. Clearly, your ignorance is a complex pretense. You are the most remarkable youth in the five kingdoms. Tell me: How was it that you entered and escaped the Fallen Temple? You are the first I know of to succeed! Did you rescue any princesses along the way?”

  “I didn’t go there,” Cole said. “I saw him at a gathering of shapecrafters. And he saw me.”

  The man gave a simpering laugh. “You caught wind of that rumor? That much is well done. The gossip in the echolands holds that Nazeem is looking for a mortal boy who roughly meets your description. Am I to believe that the intrepid lad in question is foolish enough to reveal himself to an unknown echo? You are duller than average, my boy, but your audacity almost entertains.”

  Cole gave a nervous chuckle. Maybe that hadn’t been a very smart thing to share. “You’re onto me.”

  “Of course I am,” the man said. “Had you ever met Nazeem, he would own you body and soul. Now run along.”

  Cole walked away. The man seemed to know a lot, but Cole had a feeling that talking more could prove dangerous. Hopefully, the stuffy echo wouldn’t rethink his assumption that Cole was an imposter. The man seemed very sure of himself.

  After so much success, Cole expected to find another echo around the next corner but was disappointed. He wandered for at least an hour and saw nothing but vegetation and other mortals, including Joe and Hunter.

  Later, feeling thirsty, Cole recalled a fountain inside the shrine that people drank from using cups. He steered back toward the main building, crossing little bridges and occasionally doubling back as footpaths wound astray.

  As he approached the tall doors to the shrine, he noticed an elderly man in a large hat and a ragged gray robe sitting in the shadows, knees up, head partially bowed, back to the wall. A deeply tanned hand with dirty fingernails held out a small wicker basket. He didn’t glance at Cole or make a gesture, but he was clearly a beggar, and the basket was empty.

  Cole fished a spare ringer from his pocket. Hunter had cashed out a bunch of Zeropolitan credits at the train station and given them all a personal stash of ringers, the currency used in the other kingdoms of the Outskirts.

  The ringer was silver—worth ten coppers, enough for several good meals. But Hunter was loaded, and Mira had access to big funds too. Even though the beggar wasn’t looking directly at him, Cole didn’t want to make a show of searching for smaller change.

  He dropped the ringer in the basket.

  It fell through to the ground.

  The man looked up, his toothless smile becoming the widest crease in his seamed face. “Few people notice me. Fewer still make an offering. I’m Sando, young sir, and I hope that I can be of service.”

  CHAPTER

  3

  SANDO

  I could use information,” Cole said.

  Sando’s smile widened, showing his smooth gums. “That’s just the kind of help I can provide.” He looked Cole up and down, then squinted, making even more wrinkles gather around his eyes. Sando spoke slower, as if his interest had increased. “There is more to you than greets the eye, young sir.”

  “What do you mean?” Cole asked.

  Sando sprang to his feet. “Pick up your ringer. I can’t use it, and there’s no sense in leaving silver on the ground. We’ll find a private place to get acquainted.”

  Moving with an easy grace that contradicted his elderly appearance, Sando led the way off the path, skipping over obstacles and sliding around shrubs. Cole tried not to crush any flowers as they followed the outside wall of the shrine, away from the doors. When they reached a shady nook shielded by bushes, Sando sat, crossing his legs. “This will serve.”

  Cole knelt in front of him. “Are we supposed to be here? When we first arrived, a guy told us to stay on the paths.”

  “I am seldom noticed, and so easily forget such policies,” Sando said. “I would not wish to lead you into trouble. Since we are already here, I recommend avoiding attention. I suppose you could inform any nosy authorities that you were following a wayward echo.”

  “Okay,” Cole said, crouching a little lower.

  “I take it this is not the first time you have strayed from a path,” Sando said.

  “Nobody’s perfe
ct,” Cole admitted, thinking of some of the rules he had broken since arriving in the Outskirts. His adventure with Mira had begun when they ran away from the Sky Raiders. From the High King’s perspective, pretty much all Cole had done since that day was break laws, including when he helped Dalton escape his captors.

  “Tell me how I can be of service, young renegade,” Sando said, bowing his head slightly. “What information do you seek?”

  “Can you tell me about Nazeem?”

  Stillness settled over Sando. “You name a dangerous object of curiosity. Surely, there are brighter matters to investigate. How about directions to a stream that appears to flow uphill? I could hum a forgotten melody, popular in bygone years, which you could now revive? I know several rumors about lost treasure.”

  “I’m interested in Nazeem.”

  Sando sighed. “What would you have me tell you?”

  Cole wasn’t sure how much to divulge. Sando seemed willing to help, but could he be trusted? Cole decided to ask about something that had bothered him when talking to the rude old guy by the bench.

  “How can Nazeem be in the echolands but not dead?”

  “Many in the echolands are not dead,” Sando said. “I am not dead.”

  “I’m new to Necronum.”

  “An echo mirrors the physical body, not the spirit,” Sando explained. “The echo is not the essence. It is not the lifespark. Like the physical body, an echo is a container for a lifespark. Unlike a physical body, an echo can continue to function without the lifespark. A dead echo can walk and talk without a lifespark.”

  “So you can be a live echo or a dead echo,” Cole said.

  Sando gave a nod. “With a dead echo, the essence or lifespark has moved on, leaving the functional shell behind. These dead echoes can move and talk, but they lack a will and have no new ideas. Over time they degenerate into madness. A regular echo like me still has his essence. Though my mortal body has perished, in the echolands I am alive. There are also bright echoes. They form when death weavers temporarily leave their physical bodies behind and cross to the echolands.”

  “Nazeem is a bright echo?” Cole asked.

  “Doubtful,” Sando said. “He has been here too long. Any physical body he once possessed should be long gone. He was a being of great power imprisoned long ago for the safety of the entire world. Another topic might be of greater interest. I could divulge the location of a huge abandoned tree house. . . .”