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door slid open so smoothly that he slipped and fell. Landing with a splash in a puddle of rain and mud, he tensed and peered into the darkness. Maybe the door had opened so easily because something inside had pushed out at the same time he’d pulled. But if a ghost was lurking within, Larten couldn’t see it.
    Are you mad?
a voice very much like Vur’s whispered inside his head.
Don’t go in there. It’s a place for the dead.
    But Larten was out of options. If he didn’t findshelter there, he doubted he’d find it anywhere. As terrified as he was by the thought of spending the night in a crypt, he had a better chance in there than out here. So with one last quick prayer, he got to his feet, wiped his hands dry on his trousers, then ducked and entered the crypt.
    At first he thought it was pitch-black. But he closed his eyes for a while, and when he opened them again, he could see fairly well. There were glass panels in the ceiling. That seemed strange to Larten, but maybe some of the people buried here had been afraid of the dark.
    He remained by the door while his eyes adjusted, then studied the crypt. There were brick walls on either side, behind which the coffins were stacked. A strange sort of ornamental fountain in the middle. No sign of any ghosts.
    Growing braver, Larten moved away from the door, into the center of the crypt. It was cool here, but warmer than outside, and a lot drier. He rubbed his arms up and down, trying to generate heat. He’d have to take off his clothes later to let them dry, but he was wary of undressing too soon, in case a ghost rose from one of the coffins and attacked. He didn’t want to have to flee naked through the graveyard!
    Larten chuckled weakly at the image. Then hisstomach rumbled and he winced. He’d been hungry for a long time but had been able to ignore it. Now his hunger kicked in hard. If only the owner had come to the factory after lunch. The children didn’t get much in the middle of the day, but a few scraps of bread and some slops of watery soup would have made a big difference. Trust Traz to pick the worst possible time to get killed.
    Larten chuckled again. He knew murder was wrong, and he wished he could go back and change this day, but in all honesty he wasn’t sad that Traz was dead. He and Vur had often prayed for the gods to strike down their bullying foreman. He didn’t think too many people would shed tears on Traz’s account.
    As Larten approached the fountain, he saw that it was covered in cobwebs. He scanned the strands for spiders–he’d eaten insects before, when food was scarce–but they were either hiding or had moved on. Sighing, he figured he might as well try the webs, since there was nothing else available. He doubted they’d fill him up–they might even make him sick–but what choice did he have?
    He ran a couple of fingers through one of the webs, breaking the strands. Then he twirled his fingers around several times, adding to the webby covering. When it was thick enough to hide his flesh, he brought his fingers to his mouth, shut his eyes, and peeled off the webs with his teeth.
    Larten gagged on the foul-tasting webs and almost vomited, but then he gulped and forced down the disgusting, dusty strands. After a brief pause for breath, he scooped up more, working his way down from the top of the fountain. He kept looking for spiders or even a few desiccated flies, but no luck.
    Then, out of the solemn, sinister silence of the crypt, as he was sucking more of the spider’s silk from his sticky fingers, someone spoke from a spot high above and behind him.
    “Are cobwebs a treat where you come from?”
    Larten whirled, eyes locking on the wall above the door, the one place he hadn’t thought to check when he’d entered the crypt. Something was attached to the bricks. It was a red-skinned beast, with a pale face and long dark hair streaked with white. Its claws were dug into the bricks, and it was studying Larten with what seemed to be