Since it was filled, the [Knight] stood. Then seemed to have a thought. He ‘sat’ in midair, and looked as astonished as she was that he could do that.

“It was a wonderful song. Not with the instruments I heard last time, however.”

“Oh, that? I didn’t play the music from my…my artifact. I could put on a karaoke—but I’m running out of power.”

She shook her head, gesturing to her iPhone. The [Knight] didn’t understand, but he nodded.

“Nevertheless. It speaks to me.”

He put one hand on his chest. Cara half-smiled.

“You should hear the original.”

But how long had he stayed in this tomb, without music? She did not know. And neither did he. The ghost drew closer, a hunger to know in his eyes. She wavered, and he halted. He moved backwards, almost abashed, pointing to something he’d set down on the coffin’s lid.

“I have more roots. Give me a moment, and I will prepare them. And water.”

“Where do you get them? Am I—is there a way out?”

Cara could have eaten the dirty roots. The [Knight] shook his head.

“It is not far for me—but far for you. Thousands and thousands of rows away. Part of the tomb has collapsed. Here.”

He drew his sword and carefully cut the exterior of the roots away. His ghostly sword was as close to hygienic as Cara could get and she didn’t care. She saw frost covering the roots where he sliced and held the roots.

She looked into the bowl hopefully. But the bowl—which had been a bowl which contained offerings for the dead, apparently—had no water. She gazed questioningly at Ser Dalius as he put the roots aside.

“One moment. I had to improvise, Miss Cara. My—form in death holds few advantages. But this is one of them.”

He floated across the tomb, towards a far wall. Curious—was there a spring or something underground she hadn’t seen or heard?—she followed. And then she saw how he’d created water to keep her alive.

The ghost put his hand on one wall and frowned. He concentrated—and the smooth stone began to frost over.

“My touch is cold. Put the offering-bowl at the base of the wall.”

She did. The [Knight] ran his hand along the wall, spreading the frost. And the ice, condensed out of moisture in the air, began to melt.

It wasn’t much; the tomb was dry. But not completely sealed. The [Knight] caught as much water running down the wall as he could in the bowl. Cara blinked as he came back over. Ser Dalius apologized as he held the bowl out.

“It is the best I can do. But this is still water, not fake conjuration.”

“That’s…ingenious. Thank you. I’d never have thought of that.”

Cara stared admiringly at the [Knight]. Basic condensation! Using his ghostly chill to…genius!