Glen Cook - Shadows Linger

There were mummified bodies, too, though only a few. Only the rich demanded mummification. Here riches meant nothing. They were heaped with all the rest. Asa volunteered, “This is a real old place. The Custodians don’t come here anymore, unless maybe to get rid of loose bones. The whole cave is filled up up that way, like they just pushed them out of the way.”

“Let’s look,” Raven said. Asa was right. The cavern narrowed and its ceiling descended. The passageway was choked with bones. Shed noted the absence of skulls and urns. Raven chuckled. “Your Custodians aren’t as passionate about the dead as you thought, Shed. The chambers you see during Spring and Autumn Rites aren’t like this,” Shed admitted.

“I don’t guess anybody cares about the old ones anymore,” Asa said.

“Let’s go back,” Raven suggested. As they walked, he observed, “We all end up here. Rich or poor, weak or strong.” He kicked a mummy. “But the rich stay in better shape. Asa, what’s down the other way?”

“I only ever went about a hundred yards. More of the same.” He was trying to open a passage urn.

Raven grunted, took an um, opened it, dumped several coins onto his hand. He held them near the torch. “Uhm. How did you explain their age, Asa?”

“Money has no provenance,” Shed said.

Asa nodded. “And I made out like I’d found a buried treasure.”

“I see. Lead on.”

Soon Asa said, “This is as far as I ever went.”

“Keep going.”

They wandered till even Raven responded to the oppression of the cavern. “Enough. Back to the surface.” Once up top, he said, “Get the tools. Damn. I’d hoped for better.”

Soon they were back with a spade and ropes. “Shed, dig a hole over there. Asa, hang on to this end of the rope. When I yell, start pulling.” Raven descended into the Catacombs.

Asa remained rooted, as instructed. Shed dug. After a while, Asa asked, “Shed, what’s he doing?”

“You don’t know? I thought you knew everything he did.”

“I just told Krage that. I couldn’t keep up with him all night.”

Shed grimaced, turned another spadeful of earth. He could guess how Asa worked. By sleeping somewhere most of the time.

Spying would have interfered with wood-gathering and grave-robbing.

Shed was relieved. Asa didn’t know what he and Raven had done. But he would before long.

He looked inside himself and found little self-disgust. Damn! He was accustomed to these crimes already. Raven was making him over in his own image.

Raven shouted. Asa hauled away. He called, “Shed, give me a hand. I can’t get this by myself.”

Resigned, Shed joined him. Their catch was exactly what he expected, a mummy sliding out of the darkness like some denizen of the deeps of yesteryear. He averted his gaze. “Get his feet, Asa.”

Asa gagged. “My God, Shed. My God. What are you doing?”

“Be quiet and do what you’re told. That’s the best way. Get his feet.”

They moved the body into the brush near Shed’s pit. A passage urn rolled out of a bundle tied upon its chest. The bundle contained another two dozen urns. So. The hole was for burying empty urns. Why didn’t Raven fill his pockets down there?

“Let’s get out of here, Shed,” Asa whined.

“Back to your rope.” Ums took time to empty. And Raven had two men up top with little to do but think. So. They were busy-work. And an incentive, of course. Two dozen urns with each cadaver would build up quite a pile.

“Shed...”

“Where you going to run to, Asa?” The day was clear and unseasonably warm, but it was still winter. There was no way out of Juniper. “He’d find you. Go back to your rope. You’re in it now, like it or not.” Shed resumed digging.

Raven sent up six mummies. Each carried its bundle of urns. Then Raven returned. He studied Asa’s ashen face, Shed’s resignation. “Your turn, Shed.”

Shed gulped, opened his mouth, swallowed his protest, slunk toward the hole. He lingered over it, a hair’s breadth from rebellion.

“Move it, Shed. We don’t have forever.”

Marron Shed went down among the dead.

It seemed he was in the Catacombs forever, numbly selecting cadavers, collecting urns, dragging his grisly booty to the rope. His mind had entered another reality. This was the dream, the nightmare. At first he did not understand when Raven called for him to come up.

He clambered into gathering dusk. “Is that enough? Can we go now?”

“No,” Raven replied. “We’ve got sixteen. I figure we can get thirty on the wagons.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“You haul up,” Raven said. “Asa and I will go down.”

Shed hauled. In the silvery light of a three-quarters moon the dead faces seemed accusing. He swallowed his loathing and placed each with the others, then emptied ums.

He was tempted to take the money and run. He stayed more out of greed than fear of Raven. He was a partner this time. Thirty bodies at thirty leva meant nine hundred leva to share out. Even if he took the small cut, he would be richer than he’d ever dreamed.

What was that? Not Raven’s order to haul away. It sounded like someone screaming... He nearly ran. He did go to pieces momentarily. Raven’s bellowing brought him together. The man’s cold, calm contempt had vanished.

Shed heaved. This one was heavy. He grunted, strained... Raven came scrambling up. His clothing was torn. A bloody gash marked one cheek. His knife was red. He whirled, grabbed the rope. “Pull!” he shouted. “Damn you, pull!”

Asa came out a moment later, tied to the rope. “What happened? My God, what happened?” Asa was breathing, and that was about it. “Something jumped us. It tore him up before I could kill it.”

“A Guardian. I warned you. Get another torch. Let’s see how bad he is.” Raven just sat there panting, flustered. Shed got the torch, lighted it. Asa’s wounds were not as bad as he had feared. There was a lot of blood, and Asa was in shock, but he wasn’t dying. “We ought to get out of here, Raven. Before the Custodians come.”

Raven recovered his composure. “No. There was only one. I killed it. We’re in this now. Let’s get it done right.”

“What about Asa?”

“I don’t know. Let’s get to work.”

“Raven, I’m exhausted.”

“You’re going to get a lot tireder before we’re done. Come on. Let’s get the mess cleaned up.”

They moved the bodies to the wagons, then the tools, then carted Asa down. As they worked the litter through the wall, Shed asked, “What should we do with him?”

Raven looked at him as though he were a moron. “What do you think, Shed?”

“But...”

“It doesn’t much matter now, does it?”

“I guess not.” But it did matter. Asa wasn’t much, but Shed knew him. He was no friend, but they had helped one another out... “No. Can’t do it, Raven. He can make it. If I was sure he was checking out, yeah. Okay. No body, no questions. But I can’t kill him.”

“Well. A little spirit after all. How are you going to keep him quiet? He’s the kind who gets throats cut with loose talk.”

“I’ll handle him.”

“Whatever you say, partner. It’s your neck.”

The night was well along when they reached the black castle. Raven went in first. Shed followed closely. They pulled into the same passage as before. The drill was the same. After they laid out the bodies, a tall, lean creature went down the line.

“Ten. Ten. Thirty. Ten. Ten.” And so forth.

Raven protested vigorously. The only offers above ten were for the men who had followed them to the Enclosure and for Asa, who remained in his wagon.

The tall being faced Raven. “These have been dead too long. They have little value. Take them back if you’re not satisfied.”