Page 7 of A Blade of Lies and Spirits

“Would anyone mind if I snagged some supplies?” I asked.

A soft voice from an old woman whispered, “take what you need,” even though she didn’t look at me as she spoke.

I dropped my satchel and took a round of bread, some cheese, and a water bag. I ignored furtive glances on the way out. I wanted to get out of here, as fast as I could. Luckily for me, no guide back out was needed. Counting steps and turns was second nature to me. I liked being able to find my way in the dark.

On the ground, I turned to Walker. “Talk.”

“No,” he replied. “Let’s see the site before I say anything.”

I consulted the briefing on the LawBook. The internal map pinpointed the site of the killing, a green dot on a winding map. It would be a long walk. The heat of the day bore down on us as we proceeded, even though I stuck to the shady side, Walker beside me. I alternately jogged and walked in the heat. Early afternoon paled the reds and yellows of the rocks.

The silence between us held no pressure to fill it. It was comforting, even though my mind drifted back to the swampers’ situation. The delay was justifiable; I hoped Walker’s help would bring it to a swifter end.

A small tree and some shrubs in a sheltered cup of rock marked water. Walker set down the backpack. “We can camp here when we come back.”

“You fit all the camping gear in that?” I didn’t comment on the fact that we had rooms. Ipreferred to be out in the open as well.

“Yes. I’ll cache it here. Noone is out here anyway.” He settled the backpack y the tree and returned to my side.

“Walker. Why are they afraid of you?” I asked as we turned into the cross canyon.

He shrugged. “Outsiders don’t understand the customs here. I broke one they can’t forgive.”

I raised an eyebrow. “That says a great deal of nothing.”

His smile warmed me. “I want us to get to the bottom of this and bring justice.”

No surprise, he was continuing to avoid my questions, so I would ask one of my own. “Why me?”

“You’re a bit of a wrecking ball. This place needs something strong to break the truth loose.” His dimple flashed. “And you’re nicer to look at than others who could serve.”

Flattery, somehow I didn’t mind it from him, so I let it be. I’d ask again after we were done here.

A few steps in, the direction of the wind changed and brought the odor of decay with it. The smell led me to where the major portions of the corpse still lay, which was strange. A week and they hadn’t buried or burned the body? And no autopsy?

A sandal-shod foot lay on the dirt and rocks beside me, a severed head perhaps a hundred feet away. I moved from piece to piece. Other than the flies dipping and veering away, animals hadn’t touched the body. While dried, the eyes and tongue were intact in the head. I stooped close to a meaty portion of his chest, but I saw no maggots in the flesh. Strange.

“What’s going on here? How are they keeping the insects off him?”

“Nothing wants to touch him.” Walker sounded equally puzzled.

I paused. My weak perception found no trace of old power. “Can you sense magic?”

“Yes, and there’s none here. It’s what puzzled the Investigator, too. He mentioned it in the report. The man’s heirs said a sky burial in situ was what they wanted for him. It’s an independent territory, so he didn’t argue.”

I wondered why the Inspector found no proof, only suspicion.

However, I had less than no desire to touch the body. I would if I had to, after I’d exhausted all other possibilities. But this place, the feel of it…I didn’t want to learn something vile I couldn't unknow.

Closing my eyes, I turned in a slow circle. Mistrust and loathing murmured on the breeze, making it difficult to trust Walker at my back.

Something stirred, a whisper of awareness, like Dmitri’s sleepy babbles in the middle of the night. It brushed my mind, borne on the wind whistling through the canyon. I let my mind relax into the null state of my senses and turned another slow circle with my eyes open.

Chance once called me a bitch because he claimed I tracked like one, not just because I acted like one. It earned him a clip on the ear from Uncle Ethan. Still, even with his old insult in my mind, I knew deep down I was better at tracking than he even thought.

I stretched my senses out. Worn rock, blood spatter, tumbles of gravel. Animal tracks, though none near the body. The upper areas, the stone shining vivid red and white, patterned almost as if humanity created the coloring, rather than wind, rain, and rock.

Something—there was a hollow, a scrape that looked recent, though it would be a hard climb to get to it. I let the reason I paused bubble up to the conscious level—I didn’t even feel the minds of insects in that area. This too, was strange. Everything about this situation left me unsettled.

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