Taking a train halfway across the world was only the beginning of Jon's adventure. Tomb thieves and darker, older things are haunting the archaeological site at Alarna. Jon and his brother Tam, the unusual Blackfeather children, and the dig artist A...
Jon was having trouble sleeping again. There was a lantern lit in the sitting room, where Hellin's shadow was visible as she sat waiting up for Doctor Blackfeather to return. Jon could see her silhouette clearly though his tent wall as she picked up a book, set it down again, poured a cup of tea and then let it sit, ignored. She was worried. That worried Jon, too.
The children had spent all afternoon getting into Anna's way as she tried to get the dark room set up and the photographs developed. The pictures were drying now in a little line, carefully left alone to work their magic now that Anna had done with them. The children had spent another part of the evening in a fruitless search for the missing pick pocket girl.
When the Professor had come back in the late afternoon they had all told him breathlessly about their day. And then Doctor Blackfeather had not returned, and continued not to return. Hellin had insisted they all get some sleep, and now she waited alone in the sitting room, sometimes sitting, sometimes pacing. Jon watched her, sleepless.
The whinny of a horse came from outside, and Jon saw Hellin's face turn to the tent's entrance. She put a hand to her lips as a strangely shaped shadow lurched into view. The shadowy mass unfolded into several more unrecognizable silhouettes before falling into her outstretched arms, in more recognizable dimensions. Jon held his breath. He could just barely hear their whispers.
"You're hurt. Darling, sit down."
"I'll be all right, I'm healing, it's just taking time."
"You don't look all right. You're dripping obsidian on the carpet, love."
"I'll fix it."
"Let's fix you first. Sit." Hellin's shadow helped a mostly human-shaped shadow into an armchair. Jon stared, trying to guess at forms he could not make out.
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"Because I didn't want to be overheard," the Doctor said. "It is an old enemy, but not Pratcherd, or Chauncellor, or Ash. It's older. Much, much older. Somehow it's him."
"You don't mean–"
"I don't know how it's possible, but I felt him out there in the darkness. I felt his mind, though I did not see his true shape. And he recognized me."
"But he can't even move, he's bound in Corestemar. Wouldn't we know if things had changed? The Seal would tell you."
"The Seal! I'll send word, see if he's well," the Doctor's strange shadow shuddered.
"Wait. Healing first. You need to use your full mind for that, dear. Let's get you in one piece before making inquiries." Hellin's shadow reached for and grasped the shivering silhouette of a hand.
"Something with that creature's evil mind and presence was out there and it could see me. Too many people are suddenly able to see."
"Hush love, focus on healing. That looks nasty. Can't I help?"
