‘Perhaps because it is the very opposite of existence-’
‘But it isn’t, Brys, it isn’t. Errant take us, death is all around us. We stride over it, we breathe it, we soak its essence into our lungs, our blood. We feed upon it daily. We thrive in the midst of decay and dissolution.’
Brys studied the Ceda. ‘It occurs to me,’ he said slowly, ‘that life itself is a celebration of denial. The denial of which you speak, Kuru Qan. Our flight – well, to flee is to lift oneself clear of the bones, the ashes, the fallen away.’
‘Flee – to where?’
‘Granted. Nowhere but elsewhere. I wonder if what you’ve said is being manifested, in creatures such as Kettle and that thief, Shurq Elalle-’
The Ceda’s head snapped up, eyes suddenly alert behind the thick lenses. ‘I’m sorry? What did you say?’
‘Well, I was speaking of those who are denied death in truth, Ceda. The child, Kettle-’
‘The guardian of the Azath? She is undead?’
‘Yes. I’m sure I mentioned-’
Kuru Qan was on his feet. ‘Are you certain of this? Brys Beddict, she is an undead?’
‘She is. But I don’t understand-’
‘Stand up, Brys. We’re going. Now.’
‘It’s all the fallen people,’ Kettle said. ‘They want answers. They won’t go until they get answers.’
Shurq Elalle kicked away an insect that had crawled onto her boot. ‘Answers about what?’
‘Why they died.’
‘There are no answers,’ Shurq replied. ‘It’s what people do. Die. They die. They always die.’
‘We didn’t.’
‘Yes we did.’
‘Well, we didn’t go away.’
‘From the sound of it, Kettle, neither did they.’
‘That’s true. I wonder why I didn’t think of that.’
‘Because you were about ten years old when you died.’
‘Well, what do I do now?’
Shurq studied the overgrown, ground-heaved yard. ‘You gave me the idea, and that’s why I am here. You said the dead were gathering. Gathering round this place, hovering just outside the walls. Can you talk to them?’
‘Why would I want to? They never say anything interesting.’
‘But you could if you had to.’ Kettle shrugged. ‘I guess.’
‘Good. Ask for volunteers.’
‘For what?’
‘I want them to come with me. On an outing. Tonight and again tomorrow night.’
‘Why would they want to, Mother?’
‘Tell them they will see more gold than they can imagine. They will learn secrets few in this kingdom possess. Tell them I am going to lead them on a tour of the Tolls Repository and the royal vaults. Tell them, the time’s come to have fun. Terrifying the living.’
‘Why would ghosts want to scare the living?’
‘I know, it’s a strange notion, but I predict they will discover they’re very good at it. Further, I predict they will enjoy the endeavour.’
‘But, how will they do that? They’re ghosts. The living can’t even see them.’
Shurq Elalle swung about and stared out on the milling crowds. ‘Kettle, they look pretty solid to us, don’t they?’
‘But we’re dead-’
‘Then why couldn’t we see them a week ago? They were just flits, on the edge of our vision back then, weren’t they? If that, even. So what has changed? Where has their power come from? Why is it growing?’
‘I don’t know.’
Shurq smiled. ‘I do.’
Kettle walked over to one of the low walls.
The thief watched her speaking to the ghosts. I wonder if she realizes. I wonder if she knows she’s more alive now than dead. I wonder if she knows she’s coming back to life .
After a moment the child returned, pulling her fingers through her hair to loosen the snarls. ‘You are smart, Mother,’ she said. ‘I’m glad you’re my mother and that’s why.’
‘I have some volunteers?’
‘They’ll all go. They want to see the gold. They want to scare people.’
‘I need some who can read and some who can count.’
‘That’s okay. So tell me, Mother, why are they growing more powerful? What’s changed?’
Shurq looked back at the square, squalid tower of stone. ‘That, Kettle.’
‘The Azath?’
‘Yes.’