He nodded at the golden disc in his hand. “I think I do. I think you’re inside the medallion.”
“Inside…?”
Lorenzo sat on the bed again. “I’ve never heard of anything like this before.”
“Neither have I.” She paused. “It feels like nothing I’ve ever known. It’s so still and warm. I don’t feel like myself. I don’t feel like anything. I feel adrift and anchored at the same time.”
“I don’t know what to do. Tell me what to do.”
What have I done? Nothing can harm a ghost, nothing!
“I don’t know, Lorenzo.” Ariel fell silent for a long moment. “Well, whatever this is, I suppose it’s not the end of the world. I spent the first twenty years of my death resting in my grave, contemplating my life. It can’t hurt to spend a little time resting here. Wherever here is. I’m sure we’ll figure it out in time. Just try not to lose the medallion, Lorenzo.”
“Of course not, never.”
“And don’t wear it in bed with Qhora.”
He blushed. “All right.” He turned the golden disc over and over in his hand. The discolored edge gleamed darkly at him. The gold. The dark gold, the red gold. Just like the skyfire stone. The warmth. The heat. “Oh my God. It’s the metal. The metal in the stone. There must be some of it here where the triquetra was mended. It drinks up aether. It’s some sort of lode stone, like an aether magnet!”
“Not just aether, but souls as well,” Ariel’s voice said. “This is a natural substance that can imprison a person’s immortal soul. The divine fire of the human soul trapped in a bit of gold. Maybe this substance really is a shard of heaven, as you said.”
“Souls. Divine fire. The heat.” Lorenzo felt his heart pounding in his chest. But if Ariel’s soul makes this medallion warm… “How many souls are there in the skyfire stone? How many souls would it take to make it so hot that it can make a rock glow red and keep the snow from touching the ground for a hundred yards in every direction?”
“I don’t know. Dozens? Hundreds? Thousands?”
He nodded, his hands trembling. “All those years on the mountain side, the stone must have been drawing in the souls of the miners and their families, all the ghosts that might have been wandering the north. Whole generations, whole towns.”
“Dear God, that’s why I’ve never met a ghost from this region,” Ariel said. “Because there aren’t any. Sooner or later, they all stumbled across the stone high on the mountain, and they touched it. And now they’re all trapped inside the stone.”
Lorenzo looked up sharply at the window. “The stone. Salvator has the stone. He’s taking it and all those poor souls to make a weapon, to kill people.”
“And the more people he kills, the more souls could be drawn into the stone, making it even more powerful and more deadly.”
The hidalgo looked at his pillow with infinite longing. His body ached and every blink of his eyes was a battle to force them open again. “Alonso’s hurt. He needs to rest. And I can’t put Taziri in any more danger. I’ll have to go alone. And I’ll have to go now.”
“You need to sleep. You’re no good to anyone exhausted.”
“Salvator already has a long head start. I can’t waste the night sleeping.” Lorenzo stood up and slipped the medallion over his head, letting it rest on his chest over his coat. “Can you still feel the skyfire stone? Do you know which direction it is?”
“Yes. South and east.”
Out in the dining room, he announced his intention to leave immediately and he told Alonso to escort Taziri back to Zaragoza as soon as he felt strong enough to ride. “You won’t have to worry about Fabris. He isn’t heading that way. Find Qhora and the other boys, and when you’re ready, go back to the Diaz estate in Madrid and wait for me there. I’m sure it won’t be long before it’s safe for foreigners to travel openly again and you’ll be able to return to Marrakesh.”
Alonso nodded. “Yes, sir. Will do.”
Taziri frowned into her empty tea cup. “Don Lorenzo, my whole reason for being here with you was to protect my passengers. But I’ve lost them all. Nicola, Dante, and Shahera. But I have another oath to keep, to protect my country. I need to go with you to make sure that stone never reaches its destination. I can’t let it be used against my people, or yours, or anyone else’s.”
“All right.” Lorenzo sighed. I can’t stand between her and her duty. I have to respect that. As much as I want her to stay far away from Fabris and the stone. God, please don’t let me lose her too. “Alonso, you’ll be all right on your own?”
“Absolutely. Mirari invited me to lunch tomorrow with her sister Nina.” The young diestro winked. “Assuming these crazy mountain people don’t kill me, I’ll be just fine.”
Lorenzo rested his gloved hand on the door. It’s going to be pitch black out there, and freezing, and snowing. Why did this all have to happen in the dead of winter? “We need to go now, if you’re sure you want to come with me.”
“I’m sure.” Taziri stood up and crossed the room. Her eyes were half lidded and lined, her lips thin, her shoulders slumped. “Let’s go save the world.”
The hidalgo managed a brief smile. “Let’s.”
Day Nine
Chapter 25. Qhora
Wayra strutted up to the gate in the tall chain fence, the long blue feathers atop her head fluttering in the breeze. Beyond the fence stood a few long, low buildings near the edge of the bay, and beyond them Qhora could see the Middle Sea rolling darkly in the late day sun. To her left, the city of Valencia huddled close to the shore as though clinging to the feeble warmth of the sea.
The two guards at the gate looked up at the huge bird and glanced at each other. If she hadn’t been so tired from two days in the saddle, Qhora might have enjoyed their nervousness. “Good afternoon. I’m here to see Lord Admiral Magellan.”
The left guard said, “I’m sorry, miss, but the admiral left aboard the Arkangel several days ago. I can’t say when he’ll return.”
His answer wasn’t entirely surprising. As she rode up the coastal lane, she hadn’t seen anything in the bay matching Taziri’s description of the warship that shot down her aircraft. “Very well, then I need to speak to your commander. Immediately.”
“This is a military facility, miss. No civilians permitted without authorization. But I can deliver a message to Captain Ortiz, if you like.”
“I am Dona Qhora Quesada, wife of Don Lorenzo Quesada de Gadir, and I am here on behalf of Commander Rui Faleiro,” she said. “And I need to speak to your Captain Ortiz, in person, immediately.”
The names worked. The guard escorted her through the gate and across the yard to a small brick office flanked by a pair of small browning pine trees. Captain Ortiz greeted her curtly. “We haven’t heard from Faleiro in quite some time. He was due back over a week ago, according to my log. I suppose he ran into some weather on the road somewhere.”
“Actually, he was murdered on the road somewhere, between here and Madrid I believe.” Qhora wore her most professional bored expression. For two days, she had had nothing to do except to guess when she would stumble upon Valencia and to perfect her questions and answers for when she arrived.
“Murdered? By whom?”
“By an Italian named Salvator Fabris. I believe he was stationed here as well.”
Ortiz frowned. “He was. I thought he’d been discharged. You have evidence against Fabris? A witness?”
“A confession. He told my husband that he’d killed Faleiro.”
The captain sighed. “This is what happens when you let in foreigners. Begging your pardon, Dona, I mean
