The Bones of the Past (Books of Dust and Bone)

by Craig A. Munro

  Salt shook his head to clear it and looked up at her with blood pouring down his face. “What the fuck are you so mad about?”

  “I just thought that you had seen enough in your time with us to know that appearance doesn’t count for shit.” She threw the practice sword at his feet and walked out of the yard.

  Krigare walked over as Salt dragged himself to his feet. “What did you do to piss Min off like that? I’ve never seen her lose her temper before. Not ever.”

  Salt couldn’t meet the weapon master’s eye. “I guess I said the wrong thing.”

  “I wouldn’t have expected this from you, Salt. But if you did anything to hurt her, I’ll beat you to death myself. We protect our own. Always. Don’t ever forget that again. Now, you’re going to train with me and Inksharud today.” Salt nodded glumly and stoically accepted the punishment. He knew he wouldn’t be able to move by the time training was finished, but he’d be expected to go on patrol anyway.

  With their smaller numbers, the Night Guardsmen were spread thin. They only checked on the most pressing, most dangerous leads the ladies were able to dig up for them. The days following Gurt’s departure were rough on those who stayed. In the space of two days, Salt and his squad, which now included three Crown Knights, had to face a group of slavers and a mage who had clearly lost track of reality, and now he was stuck investigating a magical attack that killed dozens of people, including three Arcanum mages in the home of a prominent nobleman no less. Unfortunately for Salt, that also meant he was left dealing with Holit Nobesid, a “special investigator” from the Arcanum, instead of Lera.

  “Everything is confused here, Night Captain.”

  “Can you tell me anything? Was this a magical attack? A mage duel? A spell gone horribly wrong?”

  “The power unleashed here was . . . disturbing. Archmage Lera and I have conferred magically at length, and I tend to agree with her that this was done by the same cabal of mages who left that little gravesite you uncovered in the slums.” He walked around the site poking his staff into mounds of ash. “These mages are either very powerful or very numerous and well organized. I’m not sure which possibility disturbs me more. That a group of such individuals could operate in the city for such an extended period of time without our knowledge . . .”

  “Just how many are we talking about here?”

  “That is hard to say for certain, Night Captain; there are far too many variables. Though I’m quite sure of at least a dozen significant contributors.” He wandered around and kicked through a pile of ash. “We know for certain that three fully trained members of the Arcanum were present at this . . . gathering. One of them was a junior member and not very strong in his art, but the other two were quite talented mages. Young and prone to showing off, of course, but such things can be forgiven.”

  “So at least two of the mages here were young guys showing off for the nobles. Not something that shocks me any. Are you sure this mess wasn’t any of their doing?”

  “I do not like your implications, Night Captain. Arcanum mages would never do such a thing. Besides, while there are light traces of their magics here, I cannot detect any attached to the destructive magic. I can tell you for certain that neither of them was involved with the fire.” He turned back to his examination.

  “What about the other one?”

  Holit Nobesid paused. “I cannot be certain. His relatively meager talents would be difficult to pick out amid the other flavors. Besides which, I am quite certain all three of them were killed here. I cannot be perfectly sure, mind you, not with this level of destruction, but I am relatively sure that Devin Teps is part of that ash pile there. Elias Holen is at the end of the hall, and Nolan Terillion is near the remains of the outer wall.”

  “Who would know how to do this?”

  “That is part of the problem, Night Captain. Any apprentice knows this weave. It is one of the first every mage learns. It is used for lighting candles and nonmagical lamps. It’s a simple, if not particularly efficient, way to start a fire. To see it brought up to this scale . . . to see such a simple little weave cause this kind of devastation is appalling. If the Arcanum had not intervened, the fires would still be burning and probably would not have stopped for a good many days if not weeks. As it was, thirty of us were needed to funnel the great energy out of the spell . . .” His voice trailed off for a moment. “I’m sorry, Night Captain. A most disturbing thought just occurred to me.” He held up a placating hand as Salt moved to speak. “No, nothing I’d care to share just yet. I need to speak with some of my colleagues as quickly as possible. If you will excuse me?”

  Salt split up his squad and sent each team to take a look at the homes and families of the victims. There must have been a reason for the attack. It couldn’t have been random. All the Night Guard came up with was a long list of battered servants and abused family members. Salt himself spoke to the orphaned son of a couple who burned to death in the fire. The boy, who couldn’t have been older than fourteen, had been busy shouting at servants to clear his parents’ “crap” out of the master suite to make room for his own things. No tears for lost family here. Salt compared findings with his squad and went back to the palace to report.

  Though he had gotten used to the Dolbari, Salt was still a little nervous when he went into Gurt’s map room to report to the acting commander of the Night Guard. The man’s brutish appearance was misleading. Salt had already come to understand that a shrewd mind hid behind the square jaw. But he was still constantly thrown off balance by Inksharud’s soft, melodious voice. It just didn’t seem to fit the man’s form.

  “There isn’t much left of the house. The fire was burning so hot the stones started to melt. Even the best of the Arcanum’s investigators aren’t going to find much in all that. All we know is the fire started in the ballroom. Most of the servants had been sent out after the guests finished their dinner. Some kind of entertainment was prepared that they weren’t good enough to watch apparently. Only Danekor’s favorites were allowed to stay and they all died with him.”

  Salt thought for a second and added, “Couldn’t it be warlocks? I’ve heard they do fire like no one else, and with the troubles we’re already having with the Tolrahkali . . .”

  Inksharud grunted a laugh. “I had the same thought, Salt, but the ladies don’t think so. They said warlocks think of themselves as artists of destruction. You’d never get one to do anything so base, especially not a whole group of them. They compared it to getting a dozen of the best silk weavers in Keral and asking them to make sailcloth for a year.”

  “From what we learned from their servants and families, I think Bialta’s better off without the people who died in that house.”

  “Not for us to decide, Salt. But I think you’re on to something. If those who died were all as unpleasant as you suspect, that could be why they were killed. I won’t miss them, but I can’t have some crazed bunch of mages running around the city meting out their own justice. Lera thinks maybe they’re Arcanum themselves, cleaning house. Though with what you’ve told me I think they might be former victims of any of these people. We know a fair number of unregistered mages are spread out through the poorer segments of the city.”

  “So they’re a powerful bunch without the training? Holit Nobesid seemed to think the use of such a simple spell was a message of some sort, or a strategy for not tipping off anything about their style or training.”

  “Holit may think that, but he’s a very smart, very educated man. Tends to think everyone is as educated as he is, surrounded by Arcanum people all the time. I think it’s just anger, lots of power, and too little training.”

  “Scary mix. Maybe worse than an organized bunch even. Gods only know what the bastards will do next.”

  “Whoever did it, they sure pissed the Arcanum off. Their team of special investigators has been assigned to help us with this case until further notice. Normally we have to get the king to order them to give us one or two extra mages for a few hours. . .
. The council has pulled out all the stops on this one too. They’ve approved the use of summons for the investigators.”

  “Summons, as in more than one?” Salt was horrified.

  Inksharud nodded. “Expect to see quite a few moving around the city for the next while. In the meantime, I got a tip for you to check out in the Muds before you do the rest of your patrol tonight.”

  The six of them tore through the moldering furniture and trappings that had been left in the shack without success.

  “Well, I’m not sure about you lot,” said Wheeze, “but I’m satisfied the tip was bad or whatever it was is already gone.” The others nodded their agreement.

  “I’m going to take one more look through the place,” said Salt. “Altog, you’re with me. The rest of you finish your sweep of the docks and we’ll meet you before we head to the temple district.”

  As it happened, Salt was right. Altog was poking at the walls and Salt was digging little holes in the dirt floor, when his foot sunk in, ever so slightly. The grime covering the floor was perfectly uniform, there wasn’t so much as a hint that the dirt had been disturbed since the shack had been built decades ago. Salt used his knife to dig around the spot and was ecstatic when the blade hit something hard. He pulled out a long bundle wrapped in oiled cloth. He sat down on the bed and unwrapped it eagerly.

  He lifted out a familiar-looking sword. The pommel and guard were nearly identical to the Dreth Firesword, but already he could tell this blade lacked its balance and artistry. He started to draw it slowly out of its sheath and noticed the familiar flame motif carved down the blade. Then the blade burst into bright-orange flames.

  “Shit!” he shouted, jumping to his feet and nearly dropping the sword.

  Altog was wheezing he was laughing so hard. “You should have seen the look on your face, Salt. Damn near crapped yourself, didn’t you?”

  “Just lucky I didn’t burn my balls off.” Nothing was even singed. The first time he’d seen a Firesword, the heat coming off it was like standing near a volcano. Salt touched the tip of the sword to the bed.

  “Salt! I know you’re pissed, but there’s no need to burn down half the Muds over it.”

  “I won’t burn down anything. Just look at the bed.” Sure enough, not a plume of smoke rose up from where the orange flames touched the soiled blanket. Salt touched the corner of the blanket. Not even warm. Now for the big test. He slowly moved a finger toward the blade. Gritting his teeth and expecting the worst, he jabbed his finger down . . . onto cold steel.

  “Ha! I knew it! An illusion!”

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” said Altog. “Though you know, Salty, it might have been safer to ask Lera to check it instead of risking your hand.”

  Salt looked at him, embarrassed. “I guess you’re right. I keep forgetting it’s a bigger team than just our squad.”

  “Anyway, you’d best get that to Inky. I’ll let Wheeze know what happened.”

  “Thanks, I’ll catch up with you guys as soon as I can.” Salt wrapped the sword up again and went back to the palace as quickly as he could. The weapon might not be a real Firesword, but, given the trouble the real one had caused him, he couldn’t be too careful. Inksharud was in Gurt’s usual place in the map room. A large map of the city was painted on a wooden table. The wall was dominated by a huge painted map of Bialta. Stacks of notes and lists were scattered about it and every other available surface in the room.

  Inksharud looked up as Salt walked in. “Surprised to see you back so soon.”

  “I found a funny little trinket in a shack in the slums. Thought you might want to see it.” He dropped the oilcloth and drew the sword.

  Inksharud’s jaw dropped. “Not a second one!”

  “It’s a fake. Pretty damned good copy, though. Whoever made it must have had a real one in their hands at some point. I wouldn’t do this with the real one,” he said and closed his left hand around the blade.

  Inksharud considered for a minute “The color of the flame is wrong too. The real ones burn green, not orange. It’s pretty impressive, even if it doesn’t burn anything. . . . I’ll pass it on to Lera. She should take a look.”

  “Is this something we should tell the Dreth about?” Salt asked, resigned.

  “Can’t see what business it is of theirs. This isn’t anything they lost. All kinds of weapon sellers try to convince their customers that the poor blades they’re hawking are Dreth steel. I guess it was only a matter of time before someone tried it with a Firesword. Truth be told, there’s nothing illegal about this. If a merchant had it for sale in the market, we wouldn’t have a problem with it at all. It was probably just being sold by shady characters to help convince buyers it was real.” He shrugged. “We may even put it back once Lera’s seen it. You can’t be too careful with new magic.”

  Salt nodded. “Relieved to have it off my hands for now anyway.”

  “I can’t blame you. I’ll take care of it from here. Feel free to take the rest of the night off. Your patrol is nearly finished and isn’t expecting to hit anything big tonight.”

  “Thanks, but I’d rather get back to them. I’d hate for my squad to be shorthanded if they ran into a surprise.”

  “Good for you, Salt. Don’t let me keep you.”

  Yajel watched the Night Guardsman leave the castle. Without my sword. That was twice the Night Guard had taken everything from him. They had destroyed his team, killed his lover, and stolen his Firesword. The old anger still bubbled inside him. It had kept him going over the past months and pushed him to recover from his terrible wounds, to rebuild himself and dare to reach for more than a pathetic existence in the Muds. Selling fake Fireswords had been Banjax’s plan. And one he had only reluctantly agreed to at the time. Since he survived his execution that plan had been all he had left. It had taken him months to find a mage capable of doing what he needed. Few were the unlicensed mages who had even half of Banjax’s skill. And then that damned Guardsman comes along and steals it from me!Finding him walking out of the palace alone was an opportunity Yajel wasn’t about to pass up. Then he saw the misshapen hammer strapped to the man’s back. There was no denying the origin of the weapon. So you’ve been beyond the black wall and been rewarded, human. He hesitated for a moment, despite being unarmed himself, then retreated into the shadows. There was no telling what the mortal could do with such a weapon. But now I have a face for my hatred. I will not relent, human. I will destroy you utterly for what you have done to me.

  The city was in turmoil after the attack in the crown district. The Arcanum was heavily involved in the search efforts. Demons and less recognizable things patrolled the skies and the streets. Robed men and women moved in groups hunting for traces of magic.

  Nial ducked around a corner as another patrol passed by. There are so many of them. We should probably just hide with Uncle Skeg until it all passes by. No more hunting for a while.

  Reluctantly, Zuly agreed. Her drive to hunt had increased since their encounter with Amon Kareth. She seemed determined to harvest as many souls as possible now and was becoming impatient with Nial’s rules about who they would hunt and why.

  The girls heard a scream from the next street over. Nial hesitated for a moment before moving toward the sound. Let’s check it out quick, then we can go and hide.

  There was a loud crash and most of a house fell inward, followed by more screams. They dashed over and wove their hiding spell around themselves as they stopped. A creature of some sort was crouched over the corpse of an old woman, noisily devouring her. It had fishlike scales and squirming appendages that held up a fat gray body and a mouth that was altogether too large for its size. It bit off another mouthful and swallowed with a gurgling shudder that spattered droplets of blood all around it. A demon, thought Zuly. Not a kind I recognize. And it is not bound. Nial was horrified.

  We have to stop it, Nial thought. Those mages have already moved on. If we don’t do something, it could be too strong for them by the time they get back. The
spell of hiding dissolved as they rushed toward the thing. No magic, Nial cautioned. Though the thing was more than a match for a normal human, it really didn’t stand a chance against Nial and Zuly, strengthened as they were by their collection of souls. They grabbed two of the limbs on the thing’s left side and pulled them off. The beast squealed and pulled away. They pinned it down with one foot and took a firm grim of its head. The squealing rose in pitch, a nauseating smell rising from its body as the demon panicked and thrashed around. Silence returned suddenly as with a grunt of effort, the girls ripped the slobbering head from its body.

  Stinking ichor rained down around them. Zuly saw something move out of the corner of their eye and rushed at the new threat. In the heat of the moment, the girls barely recognized the Night Guardsman who had walked Nial home months ago. Zuly smashed him aside and sent him flying into a wall. Should we kill him? Zuly asked. No! He was nice to us and his squad can’t be far. The man struggled to get back to his feet. Zuly knocked him down again, not quite as hard as the first time, then they launched themselves over the wreckage of the broken hovel and out of sight.

  Salt walked into the barracks limping slightly. His nose was obviously broken again, one of his eyes was purple and swelling shut, and both his lips were split and bleeding.

  Krigare chuckled when he saw him. “So what happened to you, Salty? Try to pay the wrong woman for a roll in the hay?”

  Behind him Min wore a hard smile. “Nothing that exciting. He just decided to pick a fight with a Chosen of some sort.”

  “Bastards should be made to wear signs,” Salt grumbled in mock annoyance. The others laughed.

  Krigare smiled. “And what fun would that be? Besides, we’ve dealt with Chosen before. Remember the tip about not taking them on by yourself?”