Read Online The Drowned Vault by N. D. Wilson - Free Book Online Page A

pitch up higher, and Cyrus shivered as the hair on his arms tingled.
    Then, in unison, every spider marched forward, and every one was dragging a line. One row swept down, one left, one right. Keeping exact time and pace, they clambered across the web ladder and wove between each other, over each other, around each other. They tucked and ducked and braided and looped and twisted like a square-dancing militia. And then, when they had reached the other side, they regrouped, paused, and returned.
    As Cyrus and Antigone watched, the loom of spiders wove the beginnings of a tight sheet of silver silk across the window. Cyrus looked around—across the other window as well. And the fireplace. He turned around. Nothing was happening at the door. The spiders there were waiting patiently.
    “This will take them a while,” Arachne said. She smiled. “If you’d like me to walk the grounds with you before your captivity, now’s the time.”
    “It’s …” Antigone shrugged, surprised by her own reaction. “Well, it’s beautiful. And impossible.”
    Arachne smiled. “It is both. And when my weavers have finished, it will be stronger than steel and far lovelier than any worm silk.” She laughed, as if worm silk was the most ridiculous thing in the world. Then she looked into Cyrus’s eyes, and he blinked in surprise at her happiness. The pale ice in her blue irises was gone, replaced by the burning warmth of a summer sky or the blue of a … of a something really, really blue.
    “Come,” she said, and Cyrus followed her to the door. Antigone trailed behind him.
    “Where are we going?” Antigone asked.
    “For a walk on a hot summer evening,” Arachne said. “Before your door is sealed behind you for the night.”
    The sky was dark above the Ashtown green. On one horizon, whispers of silver promised that the moon wouldsoon rise above the trees. On the other, only the faintest blue glow was left behind the sleeping sun. All across the green and surrounding the tall fountain, hundreds of small canvas field tents had been pitched in tightly ordered rows. Lanterns hung on poles lit the rows within the tent town. More were hanging above tent flaps, and others were spreading their glow from within, lighting canvas walls like the sides of large lamp shades.
    All around, Acolytes were racing, shouting, and laughing—like the coming wave of transmortal refugees and Order members was cause for a festival. Three boys were struggling to force a fourth into the fountain. In the distance, tent stakes were pulled and cries of revenge went up as canvas collapsed.
    Cyrus, Antigone, and Arachne stood on the gravel path beside the green and watched. Antigone laughed.
    “I’ll follow you,” Arachne said to Cyrus. “Go where you will.”
    Antigone stepped toward the main building. “Let’s go down to the lake.”
    Cyrus turned the other way and began to walk.
    “Okay, fine!” Antigone said, and she jogged up beside her brother. “Where are we going, fearless leader?”
    “You can go to the lake,” Cyrus said. “Go where you wanna go.”
    “Sorry,” said Arachne from behind them. “You’re staying together.”
    Cyrus watched the tents as they passed. A few Acolytes seemed to notice them, but not many. They were too preoccupied with their own comic turf wars.
    He could hear an airplane landing, but he didn’t look for it. He needed to get out of the courtyard gate, away from the green, and into the little street where Mrs. Eldridge had taken them a year ago to get their Order clothes when they’d first arrived. He hadn’t ever been back, but he was sure the right building wouldn’t be hard to find.
    Antigone nudged him. “Cy? What’s going on? Why so surly?”
    “What do you mean?” asked Cyrus. “I’m not surly.”
    “Oh, come on,” Antigone said, and she brushed back her hair. “Are you being a grouch because I bossed Dennis when you were bossing Dennis? Are we only allowed to boss one at a time now? Or is it