The plate stopped nearly three hundred feet down from the sewers, straight in the belly of the naga treasury. Wall torches intheshape of snakes with tongues of flame dimly illuminated a wide circular space about the size of a football field. Hundredsof shelves that ran from floor to ceiling surrounded them. Piled onto their surfaces were untold wonders that Aru recognized from stories: a crystal goblet full of bright jewels, which was labeledPROPHETIC DREAMS; bottled constellations; and the jawbone of some deep-sea creature, which opened and closed as if it remembered chewing a former enemy.
“Whoa,” said Brynne, slowly rotating.
Aidenreached for his camera, but Brynne batted it down. “Someone might see the flash!” she scolded.
“There’s no one here, Bee,” said Aiden, snapping a couple of pictures. “That was the whole point of the secret passage. And no way am I going to miss documenting this.”
“You’re not a journalist in a war zone!”
“Yet,”said Aiden.
Aru didn’t see any sign of the thief’s soul song, but they’d only juststarted looking.
Then, from high above, Aru heard a faint hissing sound. The three of them moved into a tight circle. They looked up … and there, hanging from a shelf, was a huge scaly tail. Aru traced it to the prone torso of a man. A little farther and she found his familiar face, with ropy scars and milky eyes.
“Aru Shah. You and I have unfinished businesss,” he hissed.
