Read Online The Killing Moon (Dreamblood) by N. K. Jemisin - Free Book Online

gagged once but managed to keep her dinner down.
    Setting the lever, Niyes released the rope and took up the lantern again. “I’m sorry to put you through this, Speaker, but you will understand once you have seen.”
    She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and followed him within.
    The chamber was beautiful, despite the smell. Niyes’s line had clearly been wealthy enough to maintain it, despite the flooding, for many years. Elegant pillars, decorated austerely, circled the chamber’s center; shelves along the walls held rows of gold-and lacquer-inlaid urns. At the center stood a massive stone sarcophagus, its sides lined with Sua prayer-glyphs. By tradition the next to last of the dead would be within it. But the newest of the family’s ancestors held the honor of lying on the stone slab atop the sarcophagus, there to remain until someone else in the family died. Bodies were kept for as long as possible before cremation in case the soul had trouble finding its way to Ina-Karekh. Unless, here in Gujaareh, the corpse bore a Gatherer’s mark.
    Niyes stepped close to the sarcophagus, lifting the lantern high for Sunandi. Steeling herself, Sunandi stepped forward to examine the corpse.
    It was not one of Niyes’s relatives. Though the skin had darkened in death, Sunandi could still tell that the man, in life, had been much lighter-complected than any shunha of a respectable lineage. Perhaps even a northerner—although the hair was tight-curled and black, and the distorted features showed clear southern roots. A common Gujaareen, then.
    But what truly shocked Sunandi was the expression on the corpse’s face. The eyes had sunken, but lines of striation still showed around the lids and across the brow. He’d died with his eyes shut tight. The mouth was open, lips drawn back in a way that could have been caused by drying and shrinkage of the skin—but she doubted it. It took no embalmers’ skill to recognize a mortal, agonized scream when she saw one.
    “Twelve men have been found like this,” Niyes said, his voice soft in the silence. “All were young men, healthy. All died in the night without warning, mark, or wound. This one had a cellmate, who said he was like this before he died—thrashing, trying to cry out but making no sound. Asleep.”
    “Asleep?”
    Niyes nodded. “Asleep, and dreaming something so horrible that it killed him.” He looked up at her, his face haggard in the lamplight. “I brought this one here to keep as proof. The others were burned. Do you understand what it means?”
    She swallowed, her gorge rising anew. “The abomination. But if your Hetawa has failed in its vigilance, then you should be showing this corpse to the Prince of Gujaareh, not me. I am Kisuati; I can only say, ‘We told you so.’ ”
    “There’s more to it, Speaker. Strange events have occurred lately, especially in the past few years. The Prince—” He grimaced. “The Prince has quietly poured money into the shipdocks along the Sea of Glory. They’ve slowed now, but until two years ago they were working night and day producing ships. Merchant-vessels, the orders say, but of a strange design, made with heavier wood than normal.”
    “The Sea of Glory has no connection to the Eastern Ocean,” Sunandi said, confused. “Ships built there are no threat to Kisua.”
    “Those ships sailed away months ago and have never been seen or heard from again,” Niyes said. “Where do you think they’ve gone, Speaker?”
    “North? South? They’re still no threat unless they sail west across the Endless and ’round the world to Kisua’s front gate—a feat no vessel has ever managed, except in tales.” Sunandi shook her head. “Leaving aside the fact that they might actually
be
merchant-vessels.”
    Niyes sighed and ran a hand over his balding pate. “The Prince has also recently sought alliance with several northern tribes. Not just our regular trading partners, either—ax-mad barbarians from the icelands, who