A Masquerade of Spiders

Chapter 34: Maiden

She wasn't Marin.

I stepped inside. Her skin was the grey of old snow. I took another step towards her. Was she dead? I shouldn't have cared about a girl who wasn't Marin.

I reached out.

"Stop," Emil said, sounding almost apprehensive.

The moment I touched the girl, she crumbled, like ash. A white cloud of dust rose up in the room.

I stumbled back, protecting my mouth and nose with my sleeve.

The dust swirled around me, as if caught in a whirlwind. For a moment, I could see an outline of a girl, hallowed eyes, pale cheeks, round bosom and then—

She vanished.

In the bed, only an empty white shift remained.

I clasped my hand over my mouth so as not to cry out.

There were hundreds of rooms in this building. Did Marin also vanish into dust, or was she somewhere here? I would have to search every room.

I rushed past Emil, opening the next door. The girl inside there was sleeping too, but I could see from afar that she wasn't Marin.

Not sleeping, dead.

I ran on, taking less care with how much noise I was making. Door after door. Some of the girls were awake, and lifted their heads to look at me with horror.

I hurried on. Emil was behind me, silent and troubled.

At the end of the corridor, was another similar to it. How big was this place?

I would never find Marin.

Just as I was about to round the corner, Emil stopped me.

There was a sound. Someone was wheeling a cart. I could hear the high-pitched squeak of wheels and the soft jingle of glass. I peeked around the corner. There was a woman dressed all in white cotton, with a full white mask that went all the way down to her throat and even covered her hair in a type of cap. Even her hands were gloved in white. The cart she was pushing had two levels, on the top were small empty glass vials and a strange glass tube instrument fixed on a lacquered wooden board. Below were black boxes. She stopped at the nearest door and opened it, wheeling the cart inside.

Emil tugged at my sleeve. I looked to see that his eyes were wide. He shook his head and pointed in the other direction.

I followed him, feeling a weakness spread through my limbs. How was I to do anything? I had to get Marin out of Pyren's grasp.

"That was a maker," he finally said.

"What's a maker?"

"A human," he said.

I didn't have time for Emil's cryptic answers. I led the way towards the stairs. Someone was coming towards us. Even from down here, I could see the white trousers of another maker. The rest of him was coming into view one stair at a time.

We had nowhere to hide.

I removed my mask and summoning the spectres. I felt for the paths, as Emil taught me, and was about to take us to the top of the tower.

But something distracted me.

A path was created by a place one visited, or an object one touched. It could never be a person. Nearby, there was something like a piece of path.

It was feeble, almost too weak. But without giving it any thought, I passed towards it. There was uncomfortable pressure, not quite as terrible as travelling with Pyren, but my journey through the mist had a few bumps and knots.