Page 105 of By the Horns
Strangely enough, I think of Raptor and the impressed way he always regards me, like I’ve managed to surprise him repeatedly with my cleverness. I imagine his heavy hand on my neck. Not steering me, not demanding, just reminding me that he’s nearby and he’s with me. And even though he’s not here right now, imagining that weight helps me focus.
If I want to do this, I must manage it on my own.
I take a deep breath. “I can’t concentrate if you all talk at once. Let me speak to Hemmen first, and then I’ll talk with each of you, I promise.”
The babbling dies down to a low, unhappy murmur, but the spirits slide backward, retreating to their biers and hovering in the air, waiting. Their dark eyes watch me fervently, almost hungrily, but I ignore them and focus on the third one, the least defined, the one with the most blurred edges. “Hemmen? Will you talk to me?”
He drifts forward, and there’s no urgency in his strange babbling thoughts as they flow into mine. Instead, they’re filled with different emotions. Reticence…shame.
“I’m not upset,” I say softly. “I want to help you. It’s not right that you were taken advantage of like this. I want to fix it. I want to find the person who did this so it won’t happen to anyone else. Will you speak with me?”
The spirit of Hemmen moves closer, all smoke and black eyes, and the smell of rot grows stronger. I fight the urge to cough and concentrate on what should be his face.
He speaks again, but I shake my head. “I can’t understand your words. We’ll have to communicate another way.” I hold both my hands out, palms up. “Can I ask you yes or no questions? If it’s a yes, touch this hand.” I curl my left hand into a fist. “If it’s a no, touch the other one.” I wiggle the fingers on my right.
Hemmen’s ghost reaches out and touches my left hand in what feels like the barest of whispers.
Yes.
I want to weep with relief, but I need to concentrate. His touch is unpleasant, skittering over my skin like insect legs and filling me with revulsion. I fight the urge to shake my hand to flick away his touch and concentrate.
“The guild suspects that there is a ring of thieves working with repeaters to steal artifacts. Were you part of this?”
He touches my hand again.Yes.
A wave of sadness rushes over me. “Oh, Hemmen, why?”
He hesitates, his spirit fluctuating wildly. One of the other spirits tries to push in, touching my hand, and I shake it off. “Wait your turn.” I turn back to Hemmen’s ghost. “I’m not judging you. I just wish I understood. Were they blackmailing you? The people you were working with?”
More sadness ripples through the room, and I realize it’s coming from him. He touches my right hand.No.
“But they offered you something you wanted…?”
Yes.
“Books? Riches?”
Yes.
His hand lingers on mine, and a new image flashes through my mind. Hemmen, delirious with joy at the thought of having his own personal library, of all the books he could buy and the leisure time he would have to enjoy them. This is what they offered him, I realize. This is a fragment of his memory, being sent over to me.
“You stole for them?”
Hemmen touches my left hand again.Yes.
“What did you take? Artifacts? Books? Or something else?”
He hesitates, then drifts backward slightly, unsure how to answer.
Right. I purse my lips, focusing. I want to ask him how he got in to steal from the archives, but something tells me that he won’t have the answers I need, not with being constricted to yes or no. There are still more people at work, though, and I need to find out who else could be in danger. “Do you know who it was that killed you?”
He hesitates again, and then drifts his hand over mine.No.
I frown at that. “Did you see their face?”
Yes.
“But you don’t know who it is?”
