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Verna knew how heartfelt Cara’s words really were.
She felt shame that she had never really thought Cara could be kind and understanding, that she mistook Cara’s steadfast defense of Richard as merely a Mord-Sith’s aggressive nature. It was much more than that. It was appreciation. Richard had done more than save her life. He had taught her how to live her life. Verna wondered if, as Prelate, she could ever hope to do as much.
Two of the women, one to each side, took up Cara’s hands and started leading her down the corridor. Verna shared a look with Dario. He lifted an eyebrow, as if to say that now he’d seen everything.
The two of them followed after the shuffling group of people who had adopted Cara as a patron sister. A number of the people reached out as they made their way down the corridor to touch her, to run a hand down the red leather of her arm, to rest a hand on her back as if to say that they understood the pain and abuse she had endured and were sorry that they had misjudged her.
As they went down the next corridor, Verna realized that she was no longer sure where they were. The tomb area was a confusing maze that occupied several levels. In addition to that, most of the corridors were identical. They were all the same width and height and all made of the same white marble with gray veining through it. She knew that they were down in the lowest level, but other than that, she was depending on the others to know exactly where they were.
Behind, keeping their distance so as not to interfere, the soldiers, ever watchful, followed as quietly as possible.
The group of people in white robes finally came to a halt along a section of the corridor where there wasn’t an intersection. Farther down there were a number of halls going off in both directions, but in this place there were none.
Several of the staff placed the flats of their hands on the white marble. They glanced back at Cara as they lightly ran their hands over the walls.
“Here?” Cara asked.
The staff, most of them gathered around her like chicks around a mother hen, were all nods.
“What is it about this place, this corridor, that is strange to you?” she asked them.
Several people, with their hands held uniformly apart, made back and forth gestures toward the wall.
Cara didn’t understand. Neither did Verna. Dario scratched his fringe of white hair. Even he was puzzling at the strange show. The staff huddled a moment, using their signs, silently discussing the problem among themselves.
The people all turned back to Cara. Three of them pointed at the wall, then shook their heads. They all turned and looked at Cara again to gauge her reaction and understanding.
“You don’t like the way the wall looks?” Cara guessed.
The people all shook their heads side to side. Cara cast a questioning look back at Verna and Dario. Dario turned his palms up and shrugged. Verna could offer no suggestion either.
“I still don’t understand,” Cara said. “I know you think something is wrong with the wall”—heads nodded—“but I don’t know what.” She sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s not your fault. It’s my failing. I just don’t know much about walls. Can you help me understand?”
One of the men in the group took Cara’s hand and gently pulled her closer to the wall. He reached out and with the finger of his other hand touched the stone. He looked back at Cara.
“Go on,” she said, “I’m listening.”
The man smiled at the way she’d put it and then returned his attention to the wall. He began tracing some of the gray veining. Cara leaned in a little and frowned as she watched. He looked back over his shoulder. When he saw her frowning in concentration, he went back to tracing the gray swirl. He did it several times, over and over in the same place, to make Cara pay attention.
“It looks like a face,” Cara said in quiet wonder.
The man nodded furiously. Others nodded with him. They all rejoiced silently. A woman reached out and eagerly traced the same gray whorl. Her finger followed a curl, an arc. She then punctuated it the same as the man, by touching the center in two places. Eyes.
Cara reached out and traced the same face in the stone, just as they had done, following the gray eddies with a finger, tracing out the mouth, the nose, then the eyes.
The white-robed group made happy-sounding grunts, clapping her on the back, thrilled that they had been able to make her see the face.
Verna couldn’t imagine what it could mean.
One man from the group motioned, then hurried to a spot across and a little farther down the corridor. He quickly traced out something in the gray veining. From where Verna stood she couldn’t see it, but she assumed that it was probably another face. He rushed to another spot along the corridor and traced out a small face there in the stone looking out at them. He rushed to another place and pointed out a larger face.
Verna was beginning to understand. These people were down here all the time. They had learned the individual markings in what appeared at first glance as indistinguishable slabs of white marble. But they weren’t indistinguishable to these people. To the crypt staff, who spent their lives down here cleaning and caring for the place, these markings were like street signs. They recognized them all.
Comprehension had come onto Cara’s face as well. She was also looking more worried.
“Show me again what’s wrong,” she said in a serious but quiet voice.
The people, excited that Cara was now following along with what they were telling her, all rushed back over to the section of wall where they had shown her the first face. Standing before the wall, all of them moved both hands back and forth, toward and away from the wall.
They paused, the whole group turning to Cara to see if she understood. She watched them.
One of the men then pointed at the wall and beyond in an arcing movement, as if indicating something away over a hill in the distance. Verna was confused again.
Cara stared at the face in the wall. Her brow drew down. She was suddenly looking gravely concerned. Verna was still in the dark, as was Dario, but Cara’s blue eyes were alive with dawning comprehension.
Cara suddenly circled her arms around the backs of several of the group and ushered them on their way back toward Verna and Dario. She put a hand on the backs of others and gently pushed, herding them away from the troubling wall. At the rear of the group, arms out, she shepherded the rest of them back up the corridor.
Along the way, Cara gathered up Verna and Dario, turning them around and moving them along. The mute crypt staff all followed close on her heels, looking both concerned that Cara was alarmed about something, and proud of themselves at the same time.
Cara leaned close to Verna when they had retreated up the corridor and around the corner of the intersection.
“Get Nathan,” she said in a tone of clear command.
Verna’s brow twitched. “Does it need to be tonight? Don’t you think that we—”
“Get him now,” Cara said in a deadly calm voice of authority.
Her blue eyes were cold fire. Verna knew that, as kind and understanding as Cara had been with the staff, she was not to be argued with now. She was now in charge of the situation. Verna had no idea what the situation was, but she trusted the woman and knew that she needed not to question Cara’s word in this.
Cara snapped her fingers at the men waiting nearby. The commander rushed forward to see what she wanted. As soon as he arrived, he stood leaning close, focused on what she might say.
“Yes, Mistress?”
“Get General Trimack down here. Tell him it’s urgent. Tell him to bring men. Lots of men. Alert the Mord-Sith. I want them down here, too. Do it now.”
Without question the man clapped a fist to his heart and raced away.
Verna clutched the Mord-Sith’s arm. “Cara, what’s going on?”
“I’m not sure.”
“We’re about to throw the palace into full alert, drag hundreds if not thousands of people all the way down here—General Trimack, the First File, Nathan—an
d you don’t know why?”
“Didn’t say I didn’t know why. Said I wasn’t sure. I think there are faces looking at us that shouldn’t be looking at us.”
Cara turned to the faces all watching her.
“Am I right?”
The crypt staff broke out in excited, mute grins, thrilled to have someone understand and believe them.
