“Doveice?Like, some kinda bird?”
“No,it’s ade-vice, as in,” he waved his tied hands, “a lifeless receptacle,something animated with magic.”
“Stilllost me there.”
“Fuckme,” Isaac hissed, “it’s a statue that shoots fire!”
“Right,”Zaria said, keeping her poleaxe pointed in its direction.“There a way to stopit?”
“No need.It’s lost power.”
Shelooked at him, then back at the shibboleth.Its six eyes continued to glint inthe shade.“You keen on testin’ that?”
“If ithadn’t,” Isaac lied, “we would already be dead.”As casually as he could, heslipped his pack off his shoulders and began to dig inside.“It’s called ashibboleth.There is some fascinating history behind the name.Scholars believeit means corn, or crops, or a wealth of grains, which offers a lot ofsuggestion as to how the necromancers viewed their vassals.What’s more, theconstruction of the statue is exceedingly intricate.Inside those three heads,there’s a very fine network of vents and valves, shunting all of the—”
“Isaac,”she said.“From now on, consider my interest to be practical.As in, shut yourmouth.”
Duringhis long rambling, he had grabbed his uncle’s letter, folded open the wax sealon the parchment, and slipped it down his sleeve.He stood up, pretending hehad just been grabbing a waterskin.Zaria hadn’t looked his way.She wasstaring down the statue like the three-headed dogmight leap for her at any moment.
Hisruse had worked.
“If youinsist,” Isaac said, shouldering his pack and sipping from his skin.“Well,lead the way, madam knight.Your treasure awaits.”
Sheturned her head, animal eyes reflecting the light.He could see the slits ofher pupils as they trained on him.“I think my squire deserves the honor.”
Had sheseen the trapdoor?
“Oh,”he said, “surely I’m only fit to polish your steel and give girlish screams.”
“Iappreciate you learning your place, love, but you’re still going first.”
Heglanced at the shibboleth.“Why?Does it matter?”
“Saidit was fine, didn’t you?If there’s no danger, what’s the problem?”
Isaacwasn’t sure if her mistrust was aimed at him or the statue.It seemed to be alittle of both.She wouldn’t insist on keeping his hands tied if she had muchfaith in him, and the idea of walking past a fire-breathing statue was probablynot a reassuring task, either.The corpses were there for a reason.
Itdidn’t matter.In fact, it worked in his favor.
Hebegan to walk across the titan’s mouth, making sure to keep his back to Zaria.In the shade of the throat, the shibboleth’s eyes glittered like a pyramid ofpale sapphire.He received the distinct impression of being watched.As hewalked, his hands twisted as much as they could through the restraints, workinghis uncle’s letter out from below his sleeve.He held it out like a protectiveward.
Hisuncle had signed the letter with a symbol dipped in wax.The symbol was arcane.No one was quite sure why it pacified the automatons.There was little detailof its purpose in the archeological record, although some evidence suggestedthat ancient cultures worshipped the symbol as a sort of emblem for their gods.Some historians had pointed to the possible existence of an empire thatpredated even the oldest known civilizations.Either way, the symbol itself wasnot all that remarkable, consisting of an ordered collection of stars thatbordered a series of alternating stripes.Isaac had never been very impressedwith the iconography.
Whateverthe origin, the symbol always offered passage through the automatons of thenecromancers.His uncle had placed particular emphasis on keeping the waxstamping in good condition.If the symbol melted, the protection would beuseless.
Isaacstepped onto the trapdoor.
With astartling swiftness, the shibboleth jerked its head, lowering the vortex of itsmouth like the bore of a cannon.All six eyes centered on him.Teeth swirled inthe mouth, each of the rows shuddering like a circular saw, rolling, spinning,grinding out dust and sand like the slabber of a beast, the sound like bonesbreaking beneath a heel.Slowly, a lick of fire began to boil from its mouth.
Steelinghimself, Isaac clutched the parchment and took another step forward.
Thefire receded.The teeth whirred to a stop, the sound of grinding fading to anecho.The trapdoor stayed shut.The six glittering eyes of the shibbolethwatched him for an impossibly long moment before the heads rose together asone, returning to their original position of stoic agony.Dust fell across theentryway.
Isaaccontinued to take calm steps forward, as if his heart wasn’t pounding in histhroat.When he reached the pool of bodies, he slipped his uncle’s letter backup his sleeve and turned to face Zaria.He displayed his empty palms.
“See?”he said.“There’s no danger.”
“Thatbloody thing’s got fire in its belly!”Zaria yelled.“Gods, thenoiseitmade!”
