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"The Jintano?" I suggested.
Knox looked surprised. "That's right. Their influence stretched this far, although this would have been a minor outpost in those days."
"Minor?" I looked bemused. "If this was minor—"
"The temples in the south were enormous. They believed the taller they were, the closer they were to the gods. They also used to push people off the side as a sacrifice."
"Charming," I said dryly.
He grinned. "History is seldom pretty." His eyes lingered on my face before he turned back to the sarcophagus. "Did you touch it?"
"No. I felt his presence just…in the air." Although now I was curious what would happen if I did touch it.
Before I could, Knox froze, his brow creased, head cocked.
"Do you hear that?"
I listened. "Hear what?" I made out nothing but the distant call of some kind of bird and the hum of insects in the forest. I drew a little power. As it had before, it was heavy and sat uncomfortably in my chest. Still, I probed about for other smells or signs of anything odd and found nothing.
"I hear music. Strange music." He shivered. "It's making my skin uncomfortable, like it wants to slide off my body and lie in a puddle at my feet."
I grimaced at that visual image and shook my head. "I feel nothing."
In the corner of my eye, I caught a flicker of movement. When I turned my face, I caught sight of a figure dressed the same as the kid who followed Helene out of the chamber the day before. Only this time she faced me.
No, I corrected myself. This was no child. She was short, but her face was mature.
Those who came before were shorter than people now.
She was the height a woman would have stood nearly one thousand years ago.
The woman's red dress covered her shoes and rose almost to her chin. The hem, cuff and collar were adorned with gold embroidery in swirls and flowers. Her hair was long and dark and her eyes serious, solemn.
She waved toward the sarcophagus and mouthed something, her expression earnest.
I shook my head. "I'm sorry, I can't hear you."
The woman looked frustrated and tried again. The same wave, a shake of her head, mouthed words.
Again, I shook my head. "I'm sorry—"
The woman threw her head back, her mouth open in a silent scream. Her face was twisted in a rictus of agony.
I took a step toward her, but she was gone.
"What—"
"It's gone," Knox said.
"Yes, she… I beg your pardon."
"The music," Knox said, "it's gone."
"Oh. Did you see a woman? She stood right there."
Knox looked confused, but said, "No, I saw no one but you. You said you couldn't hear me, but I wasn't talking."
"No." I told him what I saw. "She seemed anxious. She wanted to tell me something about the sarcophagus."
