Page 162 of A Dagger of Ice and Intrigue
“There’s that inquisitive mind that makes Clan leaders quake.” He chuckled. “We have a few secrets here in the crater.”
I looked up at him, holding on tightly to my candle–another thing I had to borrow here. “I want to know them. All of them.”
The Commander hummed as we began to walk. “So curious all of a sudden.”
“I’ve always been curious, the direction is just different now.” I stuck close to him, my body drawn to the comfort he represented in this strange crypt where I felt out of touch and out of place. If I hadn’t been holding the candle, I could almost pretend I was holding onto his elbow, like we were taking a leisurely walk–through an imposing, embellished cemetery, but still.
“This is the Memory Hall, where we lay our dead to rest,” he began, tone low and reverent, as if not to disturb his ancestors. “Legends say when the living will need them, our ancestors will rise to protect the crater.”
A shiver raced down my spine. I imagined all those caskets hissing open and the rattle of bones vibrating through the entire crater.
“In the meantime,” he went on. “We come here and spend time with them.”
As we passed the first room, filled with more rows of coffins embedded in the walls, a stone table dominated the center. People crowded around it, old and young alike, placing their candles onto it. They had bottles filled with a sour, pungent alcohol that smelled of apples, cinnamon, and vinegar. Some poured it into glasses and toasted, laughing. Others sipped on their drink, eyes glazing over as they stared at a specific casket.
Mourning had many different faces, some visible, others hidden.
“This is the Seventh Day ritual.” The Commander’s voice lulled me forward, more powerful than the previous chant. “Once a week, we come and celebrate with our ancestors, so theycan remember what life was like. They watch over us and we never forget them.”
“That’s actually precious,” I said as we passed another arch.
In this room, the little girl from before chatted up a storm about her new doll as she stared at a coffin way up the wall. Her father stood behind, watching her with a proud, soft smile as he raised his glass at that same coffin.
My heart clenched.
Such a simple display of love–family love, perhaps the purest of them all. Three generations brought together through it.
I couldn’t help but imagine my own father standing behind me as I poured out my soul in Grandpa Constantine’s mausoleum. That had never happened; we’d each liked to mourn in peace and cry without witnesses. But if I had been her age, I knew he would have been there, a silent guardian.
Swallowing the tears became unbearable. But I couldn’t devolve into a mess now, not when the smallest sob would echo for all the city to hear.
“It’s a really great tradition,” I struggled past the lump in my throat. “Are you visiting your parents?”
“My mother,” he said, his tone no longer soft. “And my grandparents, though I’ve never met them.”
“That sounds like a story,” I said cautiously as we delved deeper inside the crypt.
The walls grew taller, the stone weathered, like it had bore more centuries and survived them intact.
“Not a very interesting one.” The edge in his voice was unmistakable. “My father is also here, but he never spent time with me during his lifetime, so I won’t do him the same courtesy.”
So it wasreallya story. A sad one, unfortunately. “I’m sorry.”
He shrugged, but it didn’t seem careless in the least. “It’s not your fault.”
“That doesn’t mean I can’t empathize.” I licked my lips, a nugget of an idea taking shape in my mind. “You Solkar’s Reach people have a thing when it comes to sorry, I’ve noticed.”
It was worth a shot. I hadn’t drummed up the courage to ask anyone else.
A corner of his tight mouth quirked. “Someone’s been paying attention.”
“Always.” It was my turn to shrug. “One can never have enough information.”
The Commander hummed again. He was doing that a lot today.
The further we delved into the crypt, the quieter it got, all the joy and sorrow contained to the middle half. Every now and then, a lone old person stood in one of the last rooms, drinking by themselves with a distant look on their faces. My heart weeped for them. Loneliness was a heavy burden, even when surrounded by people. Perhaps especially more so then.
At the end of the hall, we made a sharp turn to the left.
