Page 66 of Sonnets and Serpents
“I wonder which grave is yours,” he murmured, thinking of a woman he’d never met.
Arrested by the kuveti and dead a few days later, all while they claimed it never happened. If she’d been executed for a crime, the guards would have had no qualms admitting such. They executed plenty of people.
No. They were hiding something.
Who killed you? And why?
Eliza stepped up beside him, a reverence in her careful footfalls. She cast her eyes along the fence, then moved to a stubborn clump of maiden’s weed sprouting around a post and pulled a handful of blossoms. She stacked them on the fence.
Rather than telling her about Pravish mourning traditions, Silas kept silent. They were both from a culture where graves were visited, where flowers and offerings were left and prayers were spoken aloud as messages given to people who could perhaps still hear them.
“I liked her,” Eliza whispered. “She was kind.”
Silas couldn’t help a wry smile. “She took all your money and left you chained to a snake.”
“Not on purpose! Besides, I was an equal partner in that.” Eliza blushed.
Without thinking, Silas reached out. With a jolt, he realized he was about to brush his hand over her cheek, and he gripped the fence instead.
Focus, he ordered himself.
Jerking his head for Eliza to follow, he circled the fence and headed for the council house in charge of the graveyard. Most of the building provided living space for the gravediggers, but there was a front office in charge of making arrangements for new graves.
Silas asked the caretaker if he kept a list of bodies delivered by the kuveti.
“Sure do. Keep track of the services, since it’s government work charged to the palace.” With a grunt, the thin man pulled one log out from under a few others. But rather than handing it to Silas, he drummed his fingers across it.
“What kind of business have you got with this?” he asked, glancing between Silas and Eliza.
Research, was Silas’s first instinct, but a greedy spark in the man’s eye said he was looking for payment, and the universitydidpay for its research.
Eliza startled him by grabbing his arm, leaning on him as if suddenly overcome. When he glanced down, he saw tears glittering in her eyes.
“M-my aunt,” she said in Pravish, using the tearful quaver to hide her accent. As if she simply couldn’t speak any more, she hid her face in Silas’s sleeve, giving a muffled sob.
Clever little mouse.
It took all his willpower to keep his face blank and give a serious nod.
The caretaker sighed and pushed the ledger forward.
Silas scanned the latest entries quickly. They listed the names of the dead, a few details of their arrest and sentencing, then any trouble or extra expense from the gravediggers interring the body. Without a name to search for, he expected disappointment.
What he found was a pattern.
Silas’s eyes widened, and he pulled his journal from his bag, copying over information.
Eliza stepped back when he grabbed his writing materials, and though she rubbed at her eyes and kept up a sniffly act, the caretaker’s expression grew more and more suspicious.
“This aunt of yours—”
That was as far as he got before Silas closed the ledger, pushed it back, and thanked him for his time. He guided Eliza out the door with an arm around her shoulders, as if consoling her, but as soon as they were out of the council house, she grabbed for his journal.
“What did you find?”
His mind was still racing too much to talk, so he surrendered it, let her read. His eyes wandered the graveyard.
The pattern had been in the notes of arrest. While most of the crimes varied greatly—everything from stealing market wares to murdering a neighbor—there had been one crime listed repeatedly, always with the same phrasing.Causing magical disturbance.
