They followed Brother Shadrach down a barely marked track—a light trail where several feet had passed, leaving just the tiniest scar on the ground, a few inches wide. Through a thicket of trees against the mountainside, there was a doorway, about fifteen feet in height. It was wide at the base and narrower at the top. There was a bas-relief carving of an angel just above the lintel. Brother Shadrach took one of the rings on the door and knocked it hard, just once. The door opened, seemingly of its own accord.
They walked down a narrow passage with smooth marble walls, and descended a staircase made of stone. There were no rails, so he and Clary put their hands on either wall to keep from falling. Brother Shadrach, in his long robe, had no such fear of falling. He seemed to glide down. From there, they were in a larger space, which Simon at first thought was made of stones. After a moment he saw that the walls were mosaicked with bones—some chalky white, some gray, some ashy, and some a disturbing brownish color. Long bones formed arches and columns, and skulls, top side out, formed most of the walls. They were finally left in a room where the bone art was really ambitious—great circling patterns of skulls and bones gave the room shape. Above, smaller bones formed more delicate structures, such as chandeliers, which glowed with witchlights. It was like being shown the end of the world’s worst home-decorating show.
You will wait here.
Brother Shadrach exited the chamber, and Simon and Clary were left alone. One thing about the Silent City: It really lived up to its name. Simon had never been anywhere so utterly devoid of sound. Simon worried that if he spoke, the walls of bones would come down on his head and bury them both. They probably wouldn’t—that would be a major design flaw—but the sensation was strong.
After several moments the door opened again and Julian appeared alone. Julian Blackthorn may only have been fourteen, but he seemed older, even older than Simon. He had grown quite a bit, and now Simon could look him eye to eye. He had his family’s characteristic thick, curling dark-brown hair, and his face had a look of quiet seriousness. It was a seriousness that reminded Simon of the way his mother had looked when his father died, and she’d spent nights awake worrying about how to pay the mortgage and feed her children, how to raise them all by herself. No one wore this kind of expression by choice. The only sign that Julian wasn’t an adult was the way his dress gear fit a bit loose, and the way he was just a bit gangly.
“Julian!” Clary said, looking as if she was considering hugging him and then discarding the idea. He seemed too dignified to be squeezed. “Where’s Emma?”
“Talking to Brother Zachariah,” Julian said. “I mean Jem. She’s talking to Jem.”
Julian seemed deeply puzzled about this, but also didn’t look to be in the mood to be questioned further.
“So,” Clary said, “how do you feel?”
Julian simply nodded and looked around.
He hesitated. “I just want to . . . do it. I want to get it done.”
This seemed like a slightly odd response. Now that Simon was thinking about his own ceremony with Clary, the prospect seemed amazing. Something to be looked forward to. But Julian had been through a lot. He’d lost his parents, his older brother and sister. It was probably hard to go through something this major without them there.
It was hard to look at Julian and not remember that he had seen Julian’s brother Mark not that long ago—Mark, imprisoned and half-mad. That he had decided not to share this fact with Julian, because it would have been unbelievably cruel to do so. Simon still believed his decision had been the right one, but that didn’t mean it didn’t weigh like a stone in his soul.
“How’s L.A.?” he said, and immediately regretted it. How’s L.A.? How’s that place you live in where you saw your father murdered and your brother taken hostage forever by faeries? How’s that?
Julian’s mouth curled up at the corner. As if he sensed that Simon was feeling uncomfortable, and he felt sympathetic, but also thought it was funny.
Simon was used to that.
“Hot,” Julian said.
Which was fair enough.
“How’s your family?” Clary asked.
Julian’s face lit up, his eyes glowing like the surface of water. “Everyone is good. Ty’s really into detective stuff, Dru’s into horror—watching all sorts of mundane movies she’s not supposed to. But then she scares herself and has to sleep with the witchlight on. Livvy’s gotten really good with the sabre, and Tavvy—”
He broke off as Jem and Emma came down the stairs. Emma’s step seemed lighter. There was something about Emma that made Simon think of eternal summers on a beach—her sunbleached hair, her graceful way of moving, her winter tan. Along the inside of one of her arms was a vicious long scar.
She looked at once to Julian, who nodded before starting to pace around the room. Emma immediately wrapped Simon in a hug. Her arms, though smaller than his, wound around him like steel cables. She smelled like sea spray.
“Thank you for being here,” she said. “I wanted to write to you but they . . .” She looked at Jem for a moment. “They said they would tell you. Thank you, both of you.”
Julian ran his hand along the smooth marble wall. He seemed to have trouble looking over at Emma. Emma went to him, and Jem followed, speaking to them both for a moment. Clary and Simon stood back and watched them. Something about the way Emma and Julian were acting wasn’t quite what Simon expected. Sure, they would be nervous but . . .
No, it was something else.
Clary tugged on Simon’s sleeve, indicating that he should lean down so she could whisper to him.
“They look so”—Clary broke off her sentence and cocked her head slightly to the side—“young.”
There was a hint in her voice that this was not a completely satisfactory statement. Something about this was off. But Simon had no time to figure out what. Jem, Emma, and Julian joined them again.
“I will accompany you into the chamber,” Jem said. “Clary will walk with Emma. Simon will walk with Julian. Do you feel ready to continue?”
Both Emma and Julian visibly swallowed hard and got very wide-eyed, but both managed to say yes.
“Then we will proceed. Please follow me.”
More corridors, but the bone gave way to more white marble, and then marble that had the appearance of gold. They arrived at a great set of doors, which were opened by Brother Shadrach. The room they led to was the largest yet, with a towering, domed ceiling. There were marbles of all colors—white, black, pink, gold, silver. Every surface was utterly smooth. The room was occupied by a ring of Silent Brothers, maybe twenty in all, who parted to allow them in. The light in the room was dim and came from golden sconces and flickering candlelight. The air was thick with incense.