no longer open for discussion.”
I watched for a moment as she strode off into the woods, musing that I wasn’t so naïve as to be fooled by an obvious attempt at distraction, but feeling it would be best to let matters lie until after she’d raised Constantine’s spirit.
As we wended our way along the serpentine paths, I glanced at my watch, praying that Baltic would need the full two hours to get into the lair. “How long will the summoning take?”
“Depends on the spirit. Some are right there, ready to be summoned; others take a bit of coaxing. Let’s say an hour, to be generous.”
“Ah.” I pulled out my cell phone. “I’ll be just a second—I need to let . . . er . . . Thala know I’ll be a little late.”
Maura said nothing, just continued in the direction I indicated, making her way around the large ferns and dripping trees that isolated us from the game trail we’d followed. I walked slowly after her, allowing a bit of distance to grow between us.
“Yes?” Baltic’s voice was clipped as he answered my call.
“Hi, it’s me. How’s the opening of the lair going?”
“I assume it’s well. I am currently watching Kostya’s men be cut down by silver dragons.”
I stopped and frowned at an innocent baby linden tree. “That’s a little gruesome, don’t you think?”
“Not at all. I wish to see what it is that Constantine did to bring down Dauva, so I am remaining here, where the silver dragons are fighting Kostya’s force. Thala will alert me when the lair is opened. Where are you? You said you wished to see what remains of Dauva and the lair.”
“I know I did, and I do want to see it, but there’s a little bit of business that I have to take care of first,” I said softly. Maura showed no signs of listening to my side of the conversation, but I knew dragons had exceptionally good hearing.
“What business? That foolishness to do with Kostich?”
“Kind of. I told you that I wanted to find where Constantine died so I could have his spirit raised.”
“And I told you that was folly. Even if you could find the location, he can tell you nothing of any use. You will return to me, mate.”
“Yes, I will, just as soon as I’m done with this.”
“Ysolde—”
“I shouldn’t be longer than an hour, and then I’ll come back and see what progress you guys are making. Bye.”
Twenty minutes later, Maura and I arrived at the place where I’d seen Constantine fall. The snowy memory of the past still haunted the area, but it was less substantial, almost faded beyond the reach of vision. Maura squatted and pulled some items from her bag, arranging them in a tidy row before drawing a ward over her left hand and right eye. With some difficulty, she used a piece of chalk to draw a circle in the moist earth.
“Is that going to work?” I asked, watching with interest. “The chalk, I mean? You can’t really draw with chalk on dirt, and there are all those rocks and things in the way.”
“It won’t leave a mark on earth, no, but you don’t have to see the circle to know it’s there. So long as I draw it, it’s effective.” She sprinkled grey ash over the circle, closing her eyes and murmuring to herself. After a few minutes of that, she stopped, shook her head, and looked up at me. “Nothing. Are you sure this is it?”
“Very sure.”
“I can give it another shot, but I’m not getting even a little tremor.”
I looked at the memory of the snowy mound that had once held Constantine’s body. “I’d appreciate that.”
She rubbed the circle into the dirt and leaf detritus before drawing a new one with chalk and ash, saying as she did so, “Sacred be the circle, sacred be the place, enter here you who are not founded. Here do I draw the first circle of spirit; let it cast its light into you. Here do I draw the second circle of spirit; may it bind your being. Here do I draw the third circle of spirit; may it bring forth to my hand and heart and soul those who remain.”
I waited, but there was nothing.
“I’m sorry,” she said, rubbing out the circle again. “There’s just nothing. You know, I wonder if my ash isn’t the problem. This is an old bottle, over a year old, and perhaps it’s not as effective as it could be. I have a fresh batch back in the hotel room that I just made a week ago. We could pop back into town to get it and try again, if you like.”
A look at my watch warned me I had limited time before Baltic would want to know where I was. “Why don’t we give it another shot? Third time’s a charm, and all that.’
The look she gave me told me she didn’t think much of that, but all she murmured was, “You’re the boss,” before drawing another circle.
But this time I was watching closely, and I noticed that although the circle seemed complete, a couple of largish twigs made it difficult for her to draw correctly.
“Hang on, let me clear some of this away,” I said, kneeling to brush away a layer of leaf mold, hand-sized sticks, and small rocks. “I think the ground is sufficiently clumpy to keep your circle from closing properly. Try it now.”
She slid me a quick look from the corner of her eye, but obediently bent over the now cleared ground. As she had said, the dirt did not hold the chalk itself, but an outline of the circle was now visible as she drew it.
“It’s not quite closed,” I pointed out when she reached for the ash.
“I’m pretty sure it is,” she said, sprinkling ash.
I smiled and took the chalk up from where she had set it down, making a tiny little adjustment to her circle. “There. Now it’s closed.”
“Please do not handle my equipment,” she said sternly, snatching the chalk from my hand.
“Sorry. I just really want this to succeed.”
“I assure you that I do as well, which is why I suggested going back to the hotel to get the fresher ash.”
I gave her an encouraging smile. She heaved a tiny little sigh and spoke the words of summoning again.
This time there was an immediate difference. Hope rose within me as the air within the circle did an odd sort of shimmer, as if the individual atoms of light were forming together. The shimmer began to grow and elongate, coalescing into the figure of a man.
A
I rose slowly, the hairs on my arms standing on end as Constantine Norka stared at me with shock and surprise chased by some emotion I couldn’t identify. He opened his mouth to speak, his hands gesticulating wildly as he did so, but his voice had no sound.
“You did it!” I gasped, staring with wonder at Constantine’s spirit. “That really is amazing. But why can’t we hear him?”
“He’s not grounded,” she said with an edge that had me wondering. With a little sigh, she made a few gestures that looked like backward wards, causing the translucent ghost to slowly solidify.
“Constantine?” I asked him.
“Ysolde!” He held up his hands, still clad in leather gauntlets, looking in wonder at them. “I was dead. I know I was dead. But now I’m not? You have had me resurrected? This woman does not look like a necromancer.”
“I’m not,” she told him, gathering up her things. “I’ve summoned your shade, not your physical self.”
“A shade?” He looked down at his chest, touching his stomach. “I feel real.”
“That’s because you’re in corporeal form right now. When you grow low on energy, you will fade into an insubstantial form.” Maura turned to me, her expression tight. I didn’t understand why she seemed so resigned when her mission had been a success. “I can’t bind him to you, I’m afraid. That’s the trouble with dragon spirits— they come back as shades, which can’t be bound without a whole lot of trouble. He’s more or less going to be able to do as he likes. I can release him, though, if he is willing.”
“I’m not dead?” He pulled out his sword, still strapped to his hip. He made a few jabs at a nearby fern. “I’m not. I’m alive.”
“No, you’re a shade,” Maura repeated. “Why don’t we go back to the hotel, and I can explain the ins and outs of shadedom to you both.”
He beheaded the fern, sliding the sword back into its sheath with a look of satisfaction. Constantine was a handsome man in his own right, a little taller than me, with a muscular build, golden brown hair, and eyes just a
