She recognized me. She knew who I was. It was as if I were the grandchild of a devastating hurricane or an insane monster that had crushed and destroyed for so long, it no longer remembered how to nurture its young, but it still recognized its own blood and it tried to be gentle and to keep its own wrath from destroying me.

The magic released me. I floated down to the floor, landing on my feet, the translucent image of Semiramis looming before me. A single bone blade slid off the skeleton and landed before my feet.

A gift.

Slayer clattered on the floor before me. The hilt fell apart, releasing the broken blade. I slid the new blade into it, and the hilt sealed itself, binding to the new sword as if forged together. I picked it up. It wasn’t Slayer. It was a quarter of an inch longer and slightly heavier, but it felt right. I knew exactly what I would call it.

I raised my head. My grandmother was gone, her magic withdrawn. It hadn’t disappeared. It had just pulled back, waiting. She would let our party pass as long as they didn’t disturb her.

I walked back to the doorway. A metal wheel thrust from the wall by the exit. I turned it and heard the clang of a metal bridge sliding into place. I stepped onto the breezeway and saw Curran running up the bridge. The rest of our people waited on the ledge, looking at us. “You okay?”

I swallowed and nodded. “Don’t go into the room. She’ll kill you. As long as nobody enters, we can pass to the other side.”

“She who? What the hell was in there?” Curran asked.

“The bones of my grandmother.”

Curran opened his mouth, closed it, and finally said, “Your grandmother is the magic of Mishmar?”

“She wants to go back to the Tigris. She hates it here.” I slid Sarrat a little out of its sheath. “Look, she gave me a new sword.”

Curran peered at it. “It looks like Slayer.”

“That’s because they’re both made of her bones.”

“Your sword is made out of your grandmother’s bones?”

“Okay, I see how it sounds weird when you say it in that tone of voice . . .”

Curran grabbed my hand. “I’m not even going to say anything else. Let’s just get out of here.”

16

I HAD STOOD in the doorway of my grandmother’s tomb, blocking access to the inside, until the last of our party made it across. She let us go. When I got to the other side, nobody spoke. They just looked at me, their faces freaked out.

“Keep moving,” Curran growled.

We ran through the twisted hallways of Mishmar. We’d been going for the better part of an hour now. I was so damn tired.

“Break,” Curran called.