Elliana Morris's Arc

Chapter 3 of 5

Elliana held still at the edge of the chamber. The two skeletons watched her with steady orange pinpricks in their skulls. She could not read them. Their spears had not moved. Their heads had not turned. She did not know if lifting her foot would end her. She tried a word. "I'm not here to steal anything." Her voice sounded thin in the stone. Neither skeleton answered. The one on the left tilted its helm a fraction. The spear tip did not drop. She took a slow step forward. The lantern shook. Neither guard moved to stop her. She took another. The left skeleton lowered its spear across its body, not at her, and turned toward the second archway. The right skeleton did the same on its side. They fell in beside her, one at each shoulder, boots of bone clicking on the stone. She understood then. They were not blocking her. They were taking her somewhere. The second archway opened into a larger hall. The glow she had followed since the cellar came from this room. It was not fire. It was the light coming off a mound of gold at the far end. Coins spilled across the floor in a slow tide. Rings and chains and cut stones caught her lantern and threw it back a hundred times. Rising out of the pile was a chair built from bones, tall and pale, the arms ending in curled finger joints. A figure sat on it. Small, robed in dark cloth stitched with faded gold. A crown of black iron and blue stones sat on a bare skull. He watched her come with eyes that held the same orange light as the guards, but quieter. The skeletons stopped ten paces from the throne and stepped back. Elliana stood alone in the coins. "Put the lantern down," the figure said. His voice was dry and level. "You won't need it here." She set it at her feet. The flame kept burning. She straightened. "You are under your own house," he said. "This is Desdemona. I am Silas. I keep the door you came through." "The dead keep the door," she said. "I saw the writing." "I wrote it." She swallowed. "Why let me pass, then." "My guards asked me. You didn't run." He tilted his skull. "Most run." "What is this place." "Not for the short answer." He leaned forward, hands on the bone arms of the chair. "You came from the house above. Who told you the tunnel was there." "No one." He was quiet a moment. The orange in his eyes dimmed and brightened. "Then we have a problem," he said. "The door only opens for someone it was waiting for. I did not send for you." He stood. The coins shifted under his feet. "Sit," he said, and pointed to the floor at the base of the throne. "I need to know how you found me before I decide what to do with you."