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me. But they…they don’t deserve my fate.”
    “Very noble,” said Tarniar, “but useless.” The shadow moved closer to Caina. “If you do not…”
    “You want the damned thing?” said Caina, drawing back her arm. “Then catch!”
    She threw the idol as hard as she could manage.
    “No!” shouted Tarniar, all three of his shadows rippling in alarm. “That…”
    The idol struck one of the stone pillars and shattered in a cloud of dust and crumbling, dry wood, fragments of gold foil falling like tiny leaves to the floor. The idol had merely been gold foil spread over ancient wood, wood no longer strong enough to survive the impact. 
    “You ruined it!” screamed Tarniar, and his shadows flung Azaces and Admete to the ground. “I spent years seeking that, and you destroyed it! Perish!” All three shadows raced for Caina. Shadow-cloak or not, she suspected that if one of them touched her, the others could rip her apart. Tarniar began chanting and waving his hands as his shadows came closer, and Caina felt the surge of arcane power. 
    She stooped and closed the lanterns, plunging the tomb into darkness. 
    Tarniar’s chant faltered in a furious curse, and Caina moved, trusting to her memory as she moved silently through the tomb, dodging the pillars and the leaden coffins. One hand gripped a throwing knife, and the other stretched out before her, feeling for any obstacles. She heard Azaces’s heavy breathing and Admete’s groans of pain, heard Tarniar began another spell.
    Caina circled around a pillar in the darkness, and blue light flared as Tarniar finished his spell, an eerie blue glow radiating from him to flood the tomb. The light drove back the darkness, and she saw Nerina helping Azaces to his feet, saw Admete lying prone upon the floor.
    It made Tarniar a marvelous target.
    Caina flung the throwing knife at him. One of his shadows leapt from the floor to intercept the weapon, catching the knife and flinging it aside. Tarniar whirled to face her, a triumphant smirk on his face, and began another spell. Caina slid a dagger from her belt and charged, but Tarniar showed no sign of alarm as his shadows boiled up to intercept her. His shadows had proven capable of turning aside steel weapons.
    So the look of shock on his face was absolute when Caina’s ghostsilver dagger shredded through the shadows that rose up to stop her. 
    Ghostsilver was proof against sorcery and could harm spirits of the netherworld, and the hilt grew hot beneath Caina’s fingers. The shadows recoiled with a shocked, hissing scream, and before they could recover Caina reversed the weapon and drove it into Tarniar’s chest. The occultist fell to his knees with a strangled groan, his shadows rolling around him, and Caina ripped the dagger free and stabbed again.
    He fell dead to the floor, his shadows evaporating into nothingness, the blue glow fading away.
    A moment later Nerina relit the lanterns.
    “How…how did you do that?” said Admete, gazing in shock at Tarniar’s corpse. “He was so powerful…”
    “He was a powerful sorcerer,” said Caina, “and like so many powerful sorcerers, he trusted too much in that power.”

    ###

    Later, after Caina had burned the papyrus scrolls and Admete had taken all the gold and gems she could carry, they left the tomb and sealed the door behind them. Caina wanted to be well away before anyone discovered the occultist’s corpse. Though it might be years before anyone broke into the plague tomb again. 
    “It wasn’t enspelled at all?” said Admete as they left the Tomb Quarter and entered the Emirs’ Quarter, making their way past the splendid palaces of Istarinmul’s nobles.
    “No,” said Caina. “It had no arcane power at all. It was just some gold foil spread over a wooden statue. Tarniar spent years seeking an arcane relic, but all he found was some moldy wood and a bit of gold.” 
    “Gods of the brine,” said Admete. “The damned fool.” She shook her head.