The Seeker - Isobelle Carmody [148]
We had been riding in silence, each busy with his own thoughts, when Pavo stiffened and pointed.
At first we could see nothing. Then I saw the square shapes of buildings barely distinguishable from the dark night. Up close, they were in far worse condition than the ruinous buildings we had seen under Tor. Here the walls rose only slightly above our heads, the stone cracked and grown over with a weedy beard of green scrub and moss. The faint moonlight gave the buildings an intangible look, as if they were a mirage that might dissolve any second.
We were within two lengths of the first building when Brydda called a halt. “We’d better stop here. The ghosts will rise if we go nearer. I think it will be safe enough. No one would dream of us taking refuge here.”
I looked at Pavo’s determined face. “Pavo and I will be going in to look for the library. The rest of you may wait here with Brydda or come, as you please,” I said.
Idris said he would wait with Brydda, but the rest, even Reuvan, said they would come. We left all the horses except Avra, who would draw the cart to bring back the books we found. Pavo and I rode while the others walked. The teknoguilder held his precious drawings and maps tightly but did not even look at them; he had pored over them so often that he knew them by heart. Occasionally, he led us to a road that rubble had made impassable, then he would frown and take us another way.
I did not believe in ghosts, but the deeper we went into the dark maze of stone and crumbled walls, the more uneasy I became.
It was clear some disaster had befallen the ruins, for there was far more damage here than to other ruins I had seen on the Blacklands fringes. In one place, pale moonlight glimmered on a charred wall that showed the burned, black shape of a man running. I did not know what it could mean, but I felt a deep chill in looking at it.
I began to think of all the stories I had heard of the Beforetime ghosts, how vengeful they supposedly were when their territory was invaded. The cold crept into my bones, and I wished we had waited until dawn to begin searching. My apprehension increased with each step, though there was no overt reason for it other than the strangely compelling atmosphere of the city.
The others were showing signs of disquiet, too. Kella’s breath was coming fast despite our slow pace, and Jik stayed very close to the side of the carriage. Even Pavo’s enthusiasm gave way to a distracted frown.
Then there was a faint moaning noise, and we all froze, looking around nervously.
“What was that?” Kella whispered.
“The ghosts,” Jik said in a high, frightened tone.
“The wind,” I said, but my voice sounded uncertain. I looked at Pavo.
“I don’t understand it,” he said. “I am afraid, too, but what have I to fear?” He reached out and took up a brush torch and set a flint to it. The flame flickered and blazed, throwing light onto his bony face. “We are not far from the library now. Just down here.”
Yet the lane ended in a mass of twisted metal and rubble.
“We’ll have to clear this,” Pavo said.
I looked at him in dismay. “It will take weeks.”
He frowned, then climbed out of the cart with an energy that belied his illness. Taking the torch, he clambered over the rubble.
“It doesn’t matter about the light,” Reuvan said gloomily, mistaking my look of concern. “We often see ghost lights moving around the city. No one will come to investigate.”
Watching Pavo peering about, then scrambling higher, I found myself unable to believe anything could have survived the devastation that had overtaken the city. Nothing was left but enduring stone, and even that was greatly weathered with time. Paper was a thousand times more vulnerable. But Pavo seemed undaunted by the look of the city.
My neck prickled, and I had the queer feeling we were being watched. With