Free The Hidden Fire (Book 2) by James R. Sanford

awning, near the huge grinding stone in the center of the village, an aged
and fragile woman sat on a blanket.
    ‘ She
is too old and stiff to make Cor’el ,’ Jubi said-signed.
    Aiyan
nodded.  ‘ Will you please offer her our respects, and ask her if she will
speak the anger of the dead .’
    After
a brief exchange with Jubi in their native tongue, she had him light a block of
incense she kept in a bowl.  It smelled awful, worse than burning dung.  They
sat like that for some time, the smoke getting thicker and the woman holding
her head askew as if listening.  With a start, her eyes rolled up into her
head, and she swayed from side to side.  A passing cloud blotted out the sun. 
She spoke.
    ‘ They
are angry ,’ Jubi translated.  ‘ They wait, and they do not walk .’
    ‘ What
is making them angry? ’ Aiyan said-signed.
    ‘ I
hear my ancestor ,’ came the reply.  ‘ I shall ask him why .’
    She
made a curious humming whine, not very loud, then suddenly she lost her
stiffness.  She began signing vigorously, her elbows bending freely, her
fingers and hands subtle and quick.  Her word-sounds came out low and gravelly
— a man’s voice.
    ‘ We
are the spirits of the drowned.  We look through a veil of tears .’  Her
face twisted into a mask of deep grief.  She sobbed as she signed.  ‘ The
slaughter of angels.  The rape of dreamers. ’
    ‘ Ask
them if they can show us ,’ Kyric said-signed.  ‘ Ask them if they will
walk .’
    The speaker raised her head.  ‘ We
will come out to show you.   We will walk.  We will walk.  We will appear
in the folds of the mist. ’
    The
stars in the eastern sky had begun to fade away as they crept down the hill,
Kyric holding his bow, Aiyan sloshing with extra water skins.  They hadn’t
bothered to tell anyone that they were going to the swamp this morning.  The
mention of ghost hunting would have brought ridicule, and bird hunting might
have brought joiners, so they had slipped away before anyone was up.  Kyric had
been surprised at Aiyan’s willingness to go to the Enari village only on the
basis of his dreams.  He had been vague, and told him almost nothing of
Rolirra.
    They
made for the rowboat tied to Dorigano’s dock.  When they got there, they found
Lerica already sitting in it, manning the oars.
    “I
knew you two wouldn’t wait until dawn,” she said.  “Early worm gets the fish
and all that.”
    Kyric
shook his head.  “We have to get to the swamp in time for the morning mist.”
    “Better
climb aboard then.”
    Aiyan
simply shrugged.  There was nothing for it, so they stepped in and let Lerica
row them across the river.  Kyric slung his bow, and they quick-marched along a
well-trodden path between two rows of coffee plants, the sky turning to violet
as they broke out of the field and walked down a long slope to the edge of a
wetlands thick with cypress and stagnant pools.  A rotting odor came from the
swamp.
    “Don’t
you even want to know what we’re doing?”  Kyric asked Lerica.
    “I
saw you coming back from the Enari village yesterday.  Had a little chat with
old Jubi myself.”  She shook her head, her eyes flashing with that spark she
carried.  “You fellows are not as subtle as you think.”
    Aiyan
gave her a mischievous glance.  “We could say the same about you, Miss
Panthrum.”
    Though
the trees, they could see mist rising from a shallow pond choked with lily pads. 
It was rising from a dozen places now, everywhere that water pooled, hanging on
the motionless morning air.
    Aiyan
held very still, his eyes narrowing.  He pointed.  An Enari woman stood behind
a veil of hanging moss.  She stared blankly, as if she didn’t see them, then
turned and walked away.
    “Come
on,” said Aiyan, moving to catch up with her.
    “She’s
a ghost?” said Lerica.  “I thought you could see right through one.”
    “She’s
not just one of the village women,” Kyric said.
    They
turned to one another, both