The Charnel Prince - J. Gregory Keyes [140]
“Six days, then, or seven do you think, if we press hard?”
“That might be right,” Austra allowed.
Anne bit her lip. “Are we going to continue like this?” she asked. “Not talking?”
“We’re talking,” Austra said.
“You know what I mean.”
Austra sighed and nodded. “It’s just—I still love you, Anne, but sometimes I think you can’t love me.”
“That’s nonsense,” Anne said. “You’re my best friend. You’ve always been my best friend. And I still need you.”
“It just hurts, the way you keep shutting me out.”
“I know,” Anne said.
“But you aren’t going to stop.”
Anne sighed. “Let me think about it. But can we call a truce for the time being?”
“We aren’t at war.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear that,” Anne said, trying to sound bright.
They chatted after that, speculating about how things would be in Eslen. It wasn’t as comfortable as it once had been, but it was better than the silence.
After about a bell, Austra asked for a break so she could answer the call of nature.
“I’ll join you,” Anne said. “The morning wine’s gone straight through me.”
Cazio and z’Acatto took the opportunity to sit. “Take your time,” Cazio said. “The ass needs a rest.”
The two girls strolled up a hill through long rows of grapevines, until they couldn’t see the men anymore. Anne wished it was the season for grapes—the dried fish and hard bread they’d purchased with her hair hadn’t been good to start with, and she was really sick of it now.
“What’s that down there?” Austra asked, when they’d finished what they climbed the hill to do.
Anne peered in the direction the other girl was pointing. The hill sloped down away from where they had left the men, to form a little valley between it and the next hill. A line of willows marked a stream, but before the stream there was what first appeared to be an irregular wall of red brick. Then she saw there was more to it.
“It looks like some sort of ruin,” Anne said.
“Can we get a closer look?” Austra asked.
Anne didn’t really feel like it—she had had enough of explorations and adventures to last a lifetime. But Austra was talking to her again.
“A small look,” she granted. “We shouldn’t delay too long.”
They made their way down the hill. The formal vines ended halfway down and picked up on the next hill, but the valley was unruly, grown up with wild vines, brush, and bushes. The ground was littered with bricks.
“It must have been a castle, or a mansion,” Austra said, when they drew nearer.
Anne nodded in agreement. Grapevines concealed most of the structure. One wall still stood higher than their heads—the rest had crumbled almost to the foundations. Still, they could see the outlines of the rooms that had been there, and it had been a house of considerable size.
Now that they were down here, it was also apparent that there were more buildings, or what had once been buildings. Yet there was something odd about them. Even in ruin, there was something familiar.
Curious, Anne stepped over the remains of a wall and into the nearest ruin. There was a sort of mound not far in, which on closer inspection turned out to be a broken stone box. Something dull and white caught her eye, and she bent to pick it up. It was thin but heavy, and with a start she realized it was a small piece of lead foil. She felt the slight raising of letters on it, and with a gasp dropped it.
“What’s wrong?” Austra asked.
“This is a city of the dead,” Anne whispered. “Like Eslen-of-Shadows.” She backed away from the box, which could only be the remains of a sarcophagus.
“Saints!” Austra murmured, looking around. “But where is the living city? We’re too far from Pacre, and I don’t think we’re to Teremené yet.”
“No one has kept this up,” Anne said. “The city-of-the-quick must be gone, too. Maybe it was farther down the valley.”
“A whole town, gone?” Austra wondered aloud. “How could that happen?”
“It happens,” Anne said. “It might have been a plague, or war—” A shiver went down her back. “Let’s get out of here. These aren’t our ancestors. They might not like having us here.”
“Wait,” Austra said. “Look over there.