Ghost Relics Read Online Free PDF Page B

victims of the ancient plague had received coffins, while the poor had been burned and poured into the urns. 
    The Strigosti trapbox sat between two pillars.
    It was the largest trapbox Caina had ever seen, a massive cube of black metal easily the size of three coffins put together. Elaborate, stark reliefs adorned its sides, and Caina saw dozens of tiny slits marking the side of the box. If anyone attempted to force the lid without disarming the traps, blades smeared with a lethal poison would erupt from the box. 
    “Gods,” said Caina. “That thing must weigh a thousand pounds. No wonder you didn’t want to move it. How did you get it up here?”
    “Sailors,” said Admete, pulling back her hood and tugging off her turban, revealing black hair shot through with gray. “A group of Kyracian traders, passing through the Straits. Paid them to carry the damned thing up here. Since they were leaving for New Kyre the next day, I didn’t have to worry about them talking to anyone.”
    Caina laughed. “Clever.” 
    “Can you open it?” said Admete to Nerina.
    But Nerina had already crossed the room, muttering equations to herself. She knelt next to the trapbox, running her hands over the elaborate metal reliefs, tapping them with her fingernails and listening to the sound. Then she produced a small notebook, propped it on her knee, and started scribbling.
    Caina set her lantern near the box, giving Nerina light to work, and Azaces did the same. 
    “Mistress Strake?” said Admete. “Are you…is she…”
    “She’s fine,” said Caina as Nerina produced a leather bundle of tools and started disassembling the corner of the trapbox. “That’s what she does when she’s enjoying herself. Though if that box starts clicking or vibrating, we should probably run.” 
    “A good idea,” said Admete, eyeing the trapbox.  
    “Do you have any idea what Tarniar found in the ruins?” said Caina. 
    Admete shrugged. “Some gold coins. Some jewels. A few old papyrus scrolls.” Caina remembered the Maatish scroll that had brought her father to his death. “An idol, too, this ugly golden statue of a man with an…an insect for a head.”
    “Insect?” said Caina. 
    “A beetle, I think,” said Admete. “I never liked beetles.”
    “A scarab,” said Caina. A scarab-headed man was the symbol of Anubankh, the ancient Maatish god of necromancy. Such idols were often imbued with potent necromantic powers. In the wrong hands it could do tremendous harm. 
    Odd that Caina didn’t feel any sorcerous aura from the trapbox. Perhaps Tarniar had lined it with lead or even ghostsilver to conceal its contents from sorcerous detection. 
    She watched as Nerina worked. Caina had disarmed a few Strigosti trapboxes and had even managed to survive the process. Yet this box was far beyond Caina’s skills. 
    She hoped it wasn’t beyond Nerina’s. 
    Suddenly Caina felt the tingling presence of a sorcerous aura.
    She stepped back in alarm, reaching for the ghostsilver dagger in her belt.
    “What?” said Admete. “What is it? Is the trap going off?”
    “Of course not,” said Nerina. She paused. “Unless I miscalculated a variable. Then, yes, we’re all going to die. Other than that, we’re fine.”
    “That is not reassuring,” said Admete.
    “Someone’s casting a spell,” said Caina. 
    “You can…feel spells?” said Admete. “Then you are a sorceress? That’s why you want the relic?”
    “No,” said Caina. “I’ve been hit by spells enough that I know when one’s coming. I think something in the box is activating…no, that’s not it.” She turned towards the stairs, and Azaces drew his massive scimitar with a steely hiss. “We’ve been found.”
    Boots slapped against the stone stairs, and a man in a bright robe and turban staggered into the tomb, his eyes glassy and unfocused. 
    “Yestik?” said Admete. “What the devil are you doing here? I thought you had run off and…”
    She started forward, and