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Table of Contents

1 - An invitation 2 - The Investigator 3 - Tunnels and Voices 4 - Sethian Skin 5 - The Deal 6 - The Rules 7 - Gray Watch 8 - Thrice-Turned Coats 9 - Mask, Coat, Skin, Bone 10 - Eye, Scar, Face, Mask 11 - Pharaul 12 - Screaming Dawn 13 - A Tale Of... 14 - The Maniaque Feast 15 - From Oblivion's Throat 16 - Mythspinning 17 - Myth of a Warm Coat 18 - A Web of Bargains 19 - Questions (End of Book 1) Book 2: The Roil and the Rattling 20 - What Began in September 21 - On Going Home 22 - Mothers' Blessings 23 - Across the Warring Lands 24 - To Sell the Lie 25 - The Sound on the Stone 26 - Miss Correlon's Return 27 - Avie 28 - The Grim Confidant 29 - The Writhewife 30 - The Rattling 31 - Code Six Access 32 - The Secret Song 33 - The Broken Furnace 34 - You Can Fix Yourself, But... 35 - ...You Can't Fix the World 36 - In the Sickle-Sough Spirit 37 - We Will Never Have Any Memory of Dying 38 - Predators in the Seethe 39 - Though Broken, the Chain Holds 40 - Seven Strange Skulls 41 - None of Us Belong Here 42 - In an Angolhills Tenement 43 - The Guardian Lions 44 - Still Hanging on the Hooks 45 - Where Have We Been? Why? To What End? 46 - Ten Million Murders 47 - Breaking the Millenium's Addiction 48 - What Does it Mean, to Leave Alive? 49 - Whether You Meant it or Not 50 - Beneath the Shroud of Sapience 51 - Beneath the Shroud of Sapience 2 52 - Seven Days 53 - The Beacon on the Haze 54 - Sixteen Days 55 - The Day Before Their Dying Begins 56 - The Day Before Their Dying Begins 2 57 - Ghost in the Crags, Blood on the HIll 58 - What Ends in December 59 - What Ends in December 2 60 - What Ends in December 3 61 - The Betrayers 62 - Bend to Power 63 - How to Serve the Everliving 64 - A Turncoat's Deal

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30 - The Rattling

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The brick of the tunnel had been cut from the stone of the cliffside itself, laborers hollowing out the hill and then cutting its remnants into squares that lined its wound. It was simple: flat floor, arcing ceiling, and a deep-set darkness touched neither by the sun nor lamplight. As Indirk hurried quietly toward the distant flicker of fire, she ran a hand along the wall to keep track of it. Her fingers brushed over metal fixtures waiting for lamps to be mounted, though none had ever been placed. The builders hadn’t meant for this darkness. It wasn’t necessary. It was left this way on purpose.

Indirk listened hard for the song of magic. She didn’t have the best ear for it, but who had use for places like this if not for sorcerers? Instead, she heard only the echo of her footsteps and a strange rattling sound that gave her pause. She slowed and stopped to hear it move. Something in the walls? No, on the ceiling. She looked up, but it was too dark. She thought she saw a shadow move, heard a brush of something’s passage. The rattling, unmistakable, like pebbles vibrating against a metal plate. It passed her and moved on.

Clutching her fists against her coat, Indirk felt fearful instincts pulse through her body. Indirk was a carnivate, a meat-eater by nature, but even she possessed a primordial fear of larger predators. Her instincts mistook this for a den and screamed warning. For a moment, frozen there in the dark, she almost failed to overcome them. She almost turned back.

Magic sang ahead of her. This dull hum she’d heard before, a slow little song on the quay or carried on the wind from the cliffs. There was a flick of yellow in the dark ahead, reflective eyes turning to look.

Indirk flinched back and let out a hiss.

“Do not fear me, Indirk Correlon,” said the Writhewife. The voice gave her away as the same one that had been on the beach, though there her tone had wavered between frustration and taunting mischief. Now her tone was serious, direct, monotone. “I thought you might follow me in. Good for you.”

“What are you…?” Indirk started, but ran out of breath. She became very aware, suddenly, of how she’d almost fallen at this strange woman’s sudden appearance. Indirk was crouching low against the wall, thin and tense beneath her bulky coat, her clawed fingers open like an animal ready to be pounced. She found she couldn’t catch her breath.

In the dark, it was difficult to see the Writhewife. The yellow flick of her eyes was a fitful, ephemeral candle, vanishing for long seconds only to flash to life and disappear again. Her footsteps moved to a side, the ceaseless hum of the Writhe’s magic warbling slightly in the echoing hall. “Don’t be too surprised that I know you, Indirk Correlon. You work at the Admiralty office on the mainland, live in the Angolhills, and have a pet named Avie.”

Far from reassured, Indirk tried to back away further, but just ended up pushing herself against the wall. One of her hands went into her coat, to her side, where her pistol was concealed. Shooting a Writhewife would be suicide, obviously, but her mind had sunk so far into its fear that she struggled to think at all.

“People mistake the Writhe for a single great mind, but I am a thousand minds with the knowledge to match. As much as I know about you, imagine how strange it is that I know nothing about this place. But is it important? I didn’t think so until I saw how closely the Commodore has it guarded.” The Writhewife’s footsteps moved slightly away. “Oh, do not keep secrets from me, Gray Watch. We have taken our vows, and secrets between us will not be abided.”

The rattling sound moved again, near the ceiling, somewhere beyond the Writhewife.

The animal inside of Indirk shifted to stare, petrified, into the dark. “What is that sound? Some magic you’re doing?”

“No,” the Writhewife answered directly, turning to walk away. “That’s not magic at all. That’s an animal. A large one.”

“What? Hey.” The light of the Writhewife’s eyes was gone. The sound of her movement took her further away. The rattling came again, something sliding against the stone on the ceiling. Indirk could almost feel the warmth of the thing, whatever it was, and before she knew it she was on her feet hurrying after the Writhewife. Deeper into the dark.

“Curious woman,” the Writhewife said without turning, “Full of curiosity, on my heels. You’ve seen enough to know that things you see can change you.”

Muscle’s twitching at every syllable, at every echo of the overhead clatter, Indirk grated, “Nothing’s ever changed me before.”

“You don’t believe that at all. That’s the sound of fear. Indirk Correlon, listen: I’m warning you that what you see here will change you. Are you ready to be changed today?”

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