Dreamseeker Read Online Free PDF Page B

death.
    And then there were those rare worlds that needed to be Cleansed, because the Shadows decided they were a threat to interworld commerce. That might mean destroying the underpinnings of local technology, so that society collapsed into barbarism, or taking actions more directly destructive.
    Now Isaac understood why the doors here were black. Why this whole place was black. The path to a Shadow’s duty was paved in death: this was their reminder of it.
    He watched as his father took hold of the ornate lever that served as a door handle and turned it to the right. Nothing happened. Then a prickling at the back of Isaac’s neck alerted him to the approach of a new spirit, whose presence was far more powerful than that of the others. He could sense it approaching the door, perhaps touching it—and then the lock snicked open.
    Of course, he thought. Since no one but an
umbra maja
could command spirits, any lock that required the touch of both the living and the dead would be impassable to other Guild members. It was a simple but effective security.
    â€œCome,” his father repeated as the great doors swung open—seemingly of their own accord—and Isaac followed him into a vast, shadowy chamber with tiny golden lights hanging in mid-air as far as the eye could see. Like stars in a night sky. As his eyes adjusted he could see that each light was in fact set atop a marble pedestal, and that there were walkways running around the chamber at several heights, each with its own row of pedestals, evenly spaced.
    His father gestured toward one of the nearest pedestals, indicating he should approach it.
    There was just enough light for Isaac to make out the shape of a golden sphere with symbols inscribed in it, protected by a glass dome. He recognized the mark of the Weavers on the glass; there were others he didn’t recognize.
    â€œWe call these soul fetters,” his father said, coming up behind him, “but they’re not really that, you understand. Simply recording devices that store the memories of former Guild members.”
    Suddenly Isaac realized what he was looking at, and a wave of nausea came over him, fear so thick in his throat he could hardly breathe. This
thing
was the source of Communion, the mechanism used to pour the soul of one Shadow into another. He had to fight the urge not to back away from it, and though he managed to keep his expression calm, his heart was beating so wildly it made his chest shake. Had he been wrong about his father’s intentions? Had the Shadowlord discovered a way to initiate an unwilling candidate into the ranks of the undead? Why else would he have brought Isaac down here?
    But his father made no move toward him, and after a few seconds Isaac found himself able to breathe again. Turning his attention to the pedestal itself, he saw a column of small brass memorial plaques with names and dates on them. Three dates each. There was also a narrow shelf with a thick leather-bound journal on it, and as his father reached out to remove the book, his arm brushed against his son’s, sucking all the heat from his flesh. Isaac tried not to flinch.
    â€œThe names on the plaques are those who contributed their memories to this particular fetter,” the Shadowlord explained. “Some of the earliest date all the way back to the Dream Wars. Most are more recent. Communion didn’t become common practice until centuries after that.” He placed the book on the pedestal in front of Isaac and opened it. “These are the histories contained in this fetter.”
    Isaac looked up at him. “I thought Communion only transferred a single set of memories.”
    â€œIn a technical sense, yes. But each man’s input includes the memory of his own Communion. So when you accept the memories of one Shadowlord, you inherit echoes of all the others.”
    Good God,
Isaac thought. That meant that a Shadow who accepted Communion one time would absorb