Song of Blood & Stone (Earthsinger Chronicles #1)(21)

Footsteps crunched in the snow behind the Lagrimari. A small head appeared and pushed its way to the center.

“I told you to go back to the cave,” one of the women spit out as a little boy pulled away from her grasp. The woman’s face was badly scarred on one side with jagged lines. The boy was around six or seven with a shock of black hair and round cheeks. He smiled brightly revealing two missing front teeth.

Jasminda pointed her pistol to the ground, peering at the boy.

“Well, hello there,” Jack said in Lagrimari. “Are you the welcome wagon?”

The boy beamed at Jack, who smiled back uncertainly. Jasminda watched the exchange, confused. What exactly was going on?

“He’s an incorrigible child,” the scarred woman spat.

“He is only trying to counteract your pigheadedness, Rozyl,” another voice said from the darkness. An old woman stepped into the light, her face leathered and wrinkled. She was gray-haired and stooped, and wore a ragged coat of matted fur. “It’s too cold out here for all this bother. Pssht. Put those away.” She waved her hand, and the armed men and women strapped their rifles to their backs and retreated into the shadows. Rozyl was the last to do so—she scowled at Jasminda before she went.

“Come, children. Come inside where it’s warm.” The old woman placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Thank you, Osar. We wouldn’t want our guests to feel unwelcome.”

“Who . . . who are you?” Jasminda asked.

“I am Gerda ul-Tahlyro. This little one is Osar, always trying to do good deeds.” She smiled down at the child, who seemed a bit abashed.

Jasminda could only stare at the boy. “That was his spell?”

“Oh yes. He’s the strongest of us all.”

“They don’t need to know that,” Rozyl growled from somewhere in the darkness.

“Osar has already said these two are safe. What reason have we not to trust them?”

“I don’t trust anyone.” Footsteps crunched away. The cave entrance must be there, hidden in the darkness. When the last footsteps disappeared, Jasminda stood, taking Jack’s offered hand.

He was peering at Gerda, his brows drawn. Jasminda expected him to say something, but when he didn’t, she offered her hands to Gerda, palms out in greeting. “I’m Jasminda ul-Sarifor, and this is Jack . . .” She waited for him to provide his surname, but he remained silent.

Gerda squinted at her outstretched hands. Jasminda blinked rapidly, unsure of her mistake. Though she’d never actually had anyone greet her properly in Elsira, she hadn’t thought this Lagrimari woman would shrink from her touch.

“In Lagrimar, they greet one another by bringing a hand to the forehead,” Jack said, reaching for Gerda’s right hand and bringing it up to touch his head. Jasminda swallowed and dropped her hands, heat rising in her neck and cheeks.

“Sarifor, you say?” Gerda said, cocking her head to the side. “Any relation to Dansig ol-Sarifor?”

The world fell away for an instant as an image of Papa’s smiling face crossed her vision. She blinked past it and forced herself to breathe. “You knew my father?”

Gerda nodded. “Long ago.” She turned and disappeared into the shadows. “Come along now. There’s a warm fire inside.”

Utterly shaken, Jasminda moved to grab the bag and lantern, but Jack’s quick fingers plucked them away first. He chuckled at her exasperation, but the expression did not reach his eyes.

“What do you think?” she whispered.

He watched the storm blustering just on the edge of their little invisible wall of protection. “I’ll go first,” he said, then grabbed hold of her hand and charged ahead.

She was glad for his hand in hers. The mountain caves and tunnels frightened her. They had been strictly off-limits growing up, and even her intrepid brothers had listened to Papa’s words and stayed away. Only half a dozen cave openings lined the mountain path, and her family passed them countless times on their way to and from town. But they had never ventured in. Something about the gaping openings sent off danger signals. On a primal level, they felt like places to be avoided.

Though Jack had been expecting them to use the tunnels to shortcut the storm, she’d had no real intention of doing so. Her plan, such as it was, had been to hope the storm abated early or, if it didn’t, wait it out at the mouth of one of the caves. Once he stepped inside one, he would no doubt feel the danger and agree that waiting and going over the mountain was the best option

But he did not shudder the way she did as they entered. He gave no evidence that his skin was crawling with the oppressive atmosphere in the darkened cave. With each step, the temperature grew steadily warmer, but cold goose bumps abraded her skin.

A short tunnel opened to a huge chamber many stories high. The interior was wholly unexpected; instead of the rough surface of rock, the walls and floor were glassy and smooth, but not slippery. It was as if they had been blown in the forge of a glassmaker. They reflected the lamplight, illuminating the entire space. She ran her fingertips across the strange rock, then jerked them back as if stung. There had been no pain, but she struggled to calm her rioting belly. Her breath pulsed in short gasps.

Jack turned, concern on his face. He pulled her closer, wrapping an arm fully around her. “What’s wrong?”

“You don’t feel that? The wrongness of this place? It’s like . . .” The lifeless eyes of the man she’d killed swam into her vision. The cave smelled of pungent earth and stale air, but underneath it all, she smelled blood. She considered connecting to Earthsong to explore the foreboding, but the idea caused a ripple of nausea to overwhelm her. That same instinct screaming the danger of the caves told her that this was not a place for magic. For the first time ever, the thought of using Earthsong filled her with dread.