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they had been walking through
opened suddenly into a massive, brightly lit cavern. Lakhoni had to shut his
eyes tightly and blink quickly for a full minute before he could focus on the
home of the Living Dead.
    This
did not look like the eerie tombs that the stories said the Living Dead lived
in. The cavern was wider around than his village and stretched as high as the
tallest tree he had ever seen. The underground village was organized in a
series of circles, the largest around the edge of the cavern, following the
long wall. Many of these outer circles had fires burning in the middle of them
and buildings that appeared to be houses.
    The
next series of circles was farther from the walls. A stream of water bisected
the huge cavern, and many of the second layer circles appeared to have been
arranged around that stream.
    People
washed clothes in some of those circles, while in others children played. He
saw several groups of people working with wood and tools while others scraped
at animal hides. Still other circles hosted basket weaving.
    In
the very center of the cavern was a large, nearly empty circle, occupied only
by a pile of neat stones. An altar. His village had one too, but nowhere near
as big.
    “Not
what you expected,” Gimno said. It was not a question.
    “Nothing . . .”
Lakhoni turned toward Gimno. “How?”
    “We
found it sometime after we followed Malganoza away from Zyronilxa,” Gimno said.
    “It
just looks like a normal city,” Lakhoni said.
    “Yes,
but it’s the city of the Living Dead. The Separated.” Gimno’s voice went deep,
but Lakhoni heard a smile in it.
    Lakhoni
grimaced.
    “Of
course you’ve heard the stories. We’re ghosts, spirits who will steal you from
your bed if you don’t mind your mother and father.” Gimno chuckled and started
walking down a path that led through the middle of the cavern. These paths
crisscrossed the stone floor, winding between circles and homes. “We don’t mind
the stories. They keep people nervous.”
    “The
tattoos help, too,” Lakhoni said.
    Gimno
cocked a wry smile at the boy. “Yes. They do.” He quickened his pace. “Enough
talk. I’m hungry.”
    Lakhoni
followed closely, letting his eyes wander as they walked. How could they
breathe with all these fires burning in a cave? He followed the smoke upwards
with his eyes. A little smoke gathered at the top of the cavern, but it was
wafting toward the far wall. There were several small openings above the tunnel
entrance that he and Gimno had just come from. On the far wall were more holes.
There had to be a current of air traveling through those holes that drew the
smoke out.
    Gimno
led Lakhoni to a circle of houses near the left side of the cavern. Entering
the circle of homes, Gimno called out, getting the attention of several people
bent over the fire. “Where’s my dinner?”
    A
tall, raven-haired woman laughed loudly and detached herself from the group of
people at the fire. Her head was shaved on the sides and back, her black hair
growing only from the top. “Did you bring fresh meat or just this beat-up
squirrel cub?” she asked.
    “Anor
should have arrived long ago with my kill. What? Have you burned it and buried
the evidence under my bed?” Gimno smiled at the woman.
    She
smiled back. “No. I gave it to my other husband.”
    Gimno
roared with laughter and caught the woman in a tight embrace. Lakhoni turned
away, sudden grief slamming into him with the force of a charging bear. The
exchange was too much like those between his father and mother.
    “Who
have you brought us?”
    A
hand took his chin, turning his head. He looked up into warm, smiling green
eyes. The hand slid up his cheek to the top of his head, then to his wounded
shoulder.
    “And
what have you done to him?”
    Lakhoni
glanced at Gimno.
    “Not
me,” Gimno said, moving to the fire and spreading his hands before it. “Zyron’s
attack dogs. His name’s Lakhoni. They left him for dead. He needs