“What happens now?” asked Marra. “Is the godmother dead?”
“I imagine so,” said the dust-wife. “I wouldn’t stick around if I were her.” She took another limping step forward. “I’m most curious about all the other spells that people have cast over the years. If any of them are active, now that the godmother’s gone, they might come home to roost.”
They all shuffled to the door of the tomb and then stopped. The hallway stretched out before them. Three openings on one side, two on the other.
“Now what?” asked Agnes. “I got turned around when that screaming thing dragged me along.”
“Going back to the source was one thing,” said Fenris, holding up the candle. “We could follow so many dead ends … Can Finder help?”
Agnes frowned. “I don’t think so. We’re much safer here than we are in the palace, aren’t we? Maybe once we run out of food and water, but Finder will just keep moving us around the tombs to avoid the wheel thingy.”
Three openings on one side … two on the other … six openings on one side … five openings …
Do you know what they represent?… Then I may give it to you.
“I’ve got it,” she said. She laughed incredulously. “We’ve had it this whole time—the tapestry.”
She unrolled the frayed bit of tapestry in her pack, running her fingers along the weave. Three lines of thread. The middle one a single continuous line, the two flanking a combination of split weaves and weft locks. Six split weaves in a row. At the time she’d thought it was absurd, ugly, fiddly stuff, but it wasn’t. It was marking the openings on the walls of the tombs. Six corridors, and then a weft lock to mark … to mark the place where you go through? Yes! That’s it!
She laughed again. Fenris looked over her shoulder. “Is it a map? It doesn’t look right.”
“No, no, it’s not a map. It’s directions. The godmother couldn’t help us, not really, because of the spell on her, so she couldn’t have given me directions if I knew what they were. But I thought it was just an ugly tapestry, so she could.” Possibly this was not the clearest explanation. Fenris looked baffled. She tried to explain about split weaves and weft locks and Fenris held up his hands. “Can you read it?”
“Yes.”
“Then that’s good enough for me. Lead the way.”
“I have to figure out where we are,” she said. “The gold knot … Is that the king or … No, no, the weave doesn’t match. I think that’s the way out. The palace, maybe, or another exit. I just have to find where we are on the tapestry.” She ran her fingers over the thick threads, letting touch work where eyesight failed. Three split weaves on one side, two on the other, and a weft lock in the middle of the center row, indicating that you’d reached your destination—there it was, yes!
Marra flipped the ragged cloth around and walked forward. Fenris held the candle aloft. Bonedog bounced around Agnes, and the dust-wife grimly brought up the rear, her footsteps uneven on the stone.
“Weft lock…” she muttered to herself. “Split weave, split weave … weft lock here.” She took the indicated turn, then the next.
“This is the way we came,” said Fenris. “So far so good.”
Suddenly confident, Marra hurried onward. The tapestry came alive under her fingertips and she knew where she was going. She did not realize that she was practically running until Fenris called ahead to her. “Wait a moment, Marra.”
“Right.” She stopped, letting the dust-wife and Agnes catch up. “Right. I’m sorry. I just…” She waved aimlessly overhead. What time is it up there? It can’t have started yet, surely? We must be close. Time suddenly seemed physically present, rushing past her like air through the tunnels. What happens now that the godmother’s gone? Old spells? Agnes thinks she can use her powers if we get to the christening, or maybe the dust-wife was going to cast a spell on Vorling, or raise up the dead, but she can’t do that now … Could she get to her sister before the christening and warn her that something was going to happen? Was there time? Or would spells laid centuries ago, biding their time, already be exploding like fireworks over the palace?
They followed the tapestry path for another half dozen familiar turns, and then it diverged. Fenris looked up. “I think this is not the way we came,” he said. “But I trust your directions.”