The by-now familiar corruption coated the hull, and Vantra slowed, shivers racing through her essence at the thought of landing on the craft. She wanted nothing to do with the taint, but caving to her cowardice would not impress those she traveled with. And what if she discovered something that might help in Laken’s Redemption?

Her emotions sinking, she studied the upper deck; while supplies surrounded an open cargo door, no one moved them to the hold. That was not where the flash came from, so she eyed the quarterdeck; the windows of the wheelhouse were dark. Well, at least she had no one on board to avoid.

Her essence prickled as she neared it, and the corruption was not the cause. She paused in front of the windows, detecting no movement, but could not force herself to phase through the glass. Did a spell affect her? If so, it was one she had no familiarity with, as she could not sense it like she could a shield. She glanced at the crates; how could anyone labor in that atmosphere?

She floated to the cargo door; nothing but darkness filled the void, and not the Veer-infused kind. Veer. Should she bother him? If he could sense this through her, he might have an idea about what caused it—but so could Mica.

A bell rang, and the noises of equipment died as the workers stopped and prepped their tools for storage. Good. If they vacated the cavern, she and Mica could investigate with less chance of capture.

The slowness of their last daily task made Vantra grumble; did they not want to rush to their nightly meal, entertainment, bed? Some slogged into the various tunnels, others trotted. Beings in uniforms waved the stragglers on, until only they walked from station to station, making certain everyone had left. Another bell rang, and the flags hanging from the ceiling flashed. Lines of magic ran from their left edges to the right side of their neighbors, and once connected, a wall formed, blocking the dock from the rest of the cavern.

Mica was still in there!

She floated to the highest point, but it intercepted the ceiling. Did it continue through the rocks?

Vantra! She flinched as Qira’s annoyed tone filled her head and drifted back from the blockade, rubbing her temple. Mica took you on an adventure, did he?

His crossness triggered her own annoyance. Yes, but she had information to share! And the boat needed inspection.

The boat?

She turned and stared at it, and she swore she heard him suck in a breath.

You feel that?

It was hard to miss.

It’s coated in a specific type of beghestern death magic. I don’t know how much you’ve read about their culture, but traditionally, they have a fear of the undead. They create these barriers around burrows to prevent the corpses and ghosts from rising and causing havoc among the living.

How odd, considering the Evenacht Gate had beghestern guards.

The gate guards are from the Heshek Kinship. They’ve always been seeped in death magic, and once held places of honor as priests who kept the living safe from the deceased. Then they allied with Death at the same time as the Astri, only they didn’t make a pact that they expected everyone else in the evening lands to abide by, so they don’t have the hate directed at them that the Astri do. Still, they aren’t exactly on good terms with the rest of their people. It’s why they live to the north and west of the Forest Temple rather than in the Fading Light plains; it’s their exile.

Nolaris had never told her that! Neither had any other Finder, for that matter.

Most don’t know. They see the beghestern as loyal Death acolytes, which the Heshek are. Vantra, Katta’s here. He’ll ride with you, I’ll ride with Mica. Something’s deeply amiss on that ship, and we’ll yank you back if things get nasty.

Katta filled her mind as Qira vacated. She felt him wince.

That’s more than a beghestern death spell, he muttered. Would you float to the tallest mast? I want to scan the ship before Mica gets there.

She did as he bade, her essence trembling the closer she got. Warmth flowed through the link, calming her enough she alit on the top rather than flee, and peered down.

She slowly gazed from bow to stern, port to starboard, and could not withhold a shudder as she regarded the wheelhouse. The touch of Light neared her, but she did not acknowledge him until Katta’s intensity dwindled.

Mica’s grimness proved her prudence, rather than cowardice, had gotten the better of her.

He motioned for her to follow him, then glided to the cargo door. She did so, her essence shivering as she passed the edges of the opening. Pitch-dark met her gaze, then everything brightened under a grey-purple blanket. Boxes and crates of random sizes filled the immediate area, with an aisle leading straight through, bow to stern. Mica moved to the right, and her bravery sunk to her toes; he headed towards the wheelhouse.

They floated through cargo, some shimmering with shields. Katta wanted to break the boxes and peek inside, but since that might alert the enemy, they left them be. Most had a circle with a picture in the center; a tree, waves depicting water, mountains, valleys. They did not strike her as merchant stamps, so why did they decorate the sides?

The aisle ended at a latched door with a lock made from a non-metal, black material. It gleamed wetly, though no drips from the ceiling collided with it. Mica placed his hands above and below it, and it popped away from the eye. He caught it in a Light bauble; flames engulfed it, leaving a smoldering ash heap that emitted rancid smoke when he set it on the floor. The Light-blessed flipped the latch with a thin stick of magic, then pushed the door inwards. It squeaked loudly and swung back; he shielded his hands, pushed again, and hooked the latch over another eye embedded in the wall, then shoved the stick into it to hold the portal open.

The room beyond had more crates piled upon one another, most too large to have made it past the doorframe. Vantra did not recall another cargo door above, so how did they get inside? She followed Mica, dread digging into her as they drifted between the wooden containers. Whatever they housed, it was nothing good.

A glow from the left caught her attention. Mica glanced back at her, nodded, and searched for a way through the crates. No convenient aisle appeared, so they slipped through the narrow gap between the top crate and the ceiling. Cold wafted from above, and Vantra thinned her essence so she did not brush against either.

The crates ended in a squarish ring that surrounded a glowing circle drawn on the floorboards. White flowers lay at random intervals on the line, plain candlesticks behind them. Cross lines connected opposite candlesticks, and within the wedges were unknown symbols. Where the lines met, a funerary jar sat. Blue, shimmering glyphs coated the unglazed exterior, a few marred by the melted edge of the lip which dribbled over them.

I’m certain, Katta said. That’s a beghestern picoth.

Picoth?

A spelled urn used to trap the most terrible of the beghestern in death. Once they realized Levassa took the confined spirits to the Evenacht’s evening lands, they stopped using them. There was no need; the terrifying spirits were no longer a trouble to the living.

I should add, stopped using them for most practical purposes. They still dump the ashes of their greatest villains into the containers. Beghestern are ancestor-worshippers, and a picoth means that particular ancestor doesn’t deserve the accolades. There are some cases where warlord rivals ended up in a picoth and their descendants redeemed them, but that hasn’t happened since the Beast entered the Void.

Then whose picoth was that? Some ancient souls’?

Mica hunkered down and studied the circle. “I can break it, but what it releases won’t be pretty.”

If something broke the circle during a voyage, the explosion would send the ship into the depths, Qira said, his voice a faint whisper in her head. Why surround it with cargo?

They wanted a physical shield, Katta said. Against who, I have no idea. No average sailor would come near this thing.

Vantra didn’t want to be anywhere near it, either.

“We can’t leave it here,” Mica said.

No, Qira agreed. The three men bandied ideas back and forth about how to free it, though Vantra did not think any would work. Crossing the circle would—

It’s attached to another object, Katta said abruptly. The connection is hard to detect, but there.

I sense nothing, Qira said.

I’m having difficulty, so I’m not surprised someone with a Light-orientation can’t detect it. Vantra, we’ll go disarm that while Mica prepares to snag it.

By herself?

I’ll be with you. Hurry; we don’t have much time.