Page 161 of A Dagger of Ice and Intrigue
“The gods smiled upon you today.” He rummaged through that leather satchel he sometimes wore, which looked to have been weaved decades before our times by loving hands, took out a twin candle, and handed it to me.
It was so thick, I had to coil both hands on it to keep it steady as the Commander lowered his own to give light to mine. Thewicks sparked as they met, mine resisting the fire, even as red wax fell from his onto the ground.
“Stubborn like its holder,” he muttered with the same soft smile.
“You gave it to me, you knew what you were doing,” I said.
Finally, my own candle came to life with a spark, illuminating us both. Only then did I notice how close we’d tilted toward each other, his forehead almost touching mine, as if we were wrapped by some unseen cocoon.
“So dramatic,” he said in that same low tone, as if he too was hesitant to break the sudden spell washing over us.
There was magic in the air tonight, one I hadn’t met before and couldn’t name.
Maybe it was the chant shaking the very ground we stood on.
Perhaps the candles had lulled me into a state I didn’t recognize.
Or venturing outside today to places I’d never seen had brought back that sense of wonder.
Whatever it was, I wanted more of it, to sip until the sun shone back on the sky.
We kept on staring into each other’s eyes, neither moving. We probably would have stayed that way an embarrassingly long time if the old man wouldn’t have cleared his throat pointedly.
“Those candles won’t last forever, y’know?” he grumbled, snapping us both back to reality.
We stepped apart, candles flickering with the sudden movement.
Thank the gods for the old man. Who knew what would have happened if he hadn’t snapped us out of whatever that had been. Or whatIwould’ve done.
The Commander gestured for me to go first. I did, steps slow and steady, but more confident now that I felt his presence at my back.
A guardian Shadow.
I didn’t dare call him mine.
A musty, earthy scent filled my senses as I entered the building. What I’d perceived as a corridor was actually a hall.
And this was no temple.
The air was solemn and sacred, but earthier. More still. Too quiet.
“It’s a crypt,” I said, louder than I meant to, the sound running away from me to echo within all the arches and rooms leading into the main hall.
Its walls were filled with dozens of rows of small alcoves, each big enough to fit a stone coffin–and they were all filled.
Stone columns with vines sculpted onto them separated each row, climbing toward the arched ceiling and turning into an intricate web of beams.
Voices filtered in from all the rooms, some joyful, others filled with longing. It sounded so much like the ruckus back in Aquila whenever we had a big party.
“This is…unexpected,” I said, transfixed.
“Why?” he asked, genuine curiosity coating his voice.
“I just imagined you’d have different funerals in the crater. Cut off from the rest of Malhaven would mean scarce resources. Scarce resources means you use them for the living, not the dead. Plus, you live in a harsh climate, so any amount of effort requires more energy, so more food. Sculpting vines and stone caskets goes against all of that.”
Burning their dead, like the rest of the Blood Brotherhood, would have made more sense. They had an entire forest–a dangerous one, apparently–growing around them and need for heat, no matter how macabre.
It didn’t make sense.
