“It certainly is.” Seregil kept his voice low, too, out of respect for the sacredness of the chamber. “A leak must have developed, letting water in to make these formations. Judging by the size of them, and how they’re covering some of the drawings, it was a long, long time ago, but after the art was done, obviously.”

“Look at that!” Alec walked between two of the dripstone columns, beckoning Seregil to follow. Just beyond lay the strangest artifact of all. A stone pillar about three feet high protruded out of a layer of dripstone, like a candle in a pool of its own wax, and on it was a skull facing to their right, toward the part of the wall that had fallen away. Both skull and pillar were glazed with a glistening layer of the icing-like stone; tiny stalactites hung in the eye sockets like prison bars.

Seregil held out his lightstone to illuminate it better. It was definitely a real skull, and the dripstone coating was thin enough for them to make out the intricate black-and-silver designs that covered it and the blackened metal boss on the top of the head, probably capping whatever was fixing the skull to the pillar.

“What in Bilairy’s name is that?” Alec murmured.

Seregil shook his head. “Nothing I’ve ever seen.” He leaned closer, studying the face. “This was an Aurënfaie man, I think. See how the cheekbones arch, and these fine ridges above the eyes? They’d be heavier on a Tírfaie skull.”

“What’s a ’faie skull doing here?”

“It probably had some ritual function, given its placement and these markings.”

“Do you know what they are?”

“No, but Thero might. We’ll have to get him down here.” Seregil’s teeth were chattering; the chill of the cave and his soaked clothing were becoming problems.

“What was this place, and what does it have to do with the oracle?”

“I don’t know. Maybe nothing. Remember the sea temple where—” He paused and took a breath. Where Nysander died. “Where we killed Mardus? That was a Retha’noi sacred spot predating the coming of the Hierophant. Maybe this was, too, when the drawings were done. Come on, it’s—”

Suddenly they both heard a deep sigh just behind them. When they looked, however, there was no one there.

“You heard that, right?” asked Alec.

“I did.”

“The wind?”

“Down here? I don’t think so.”

They heard it again, right between them. Gooseflesh prickled on Seregil’s arms as the cool air went colder around them.

“I’d rather see a ghost than hear one,” Alec whispered.

The sigh came again, this time with a hitch at the end, as if the spirit was about to cry.

“Hello?” Seregil whispered, searching empty air. “Who are you?”

A choked sob answered, and what might have been a whisper.