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

by Craig A. Munro

  Corwin cleared his throat. “The question remains—what do we do with the rest of the prisoners? It’s all very well that Captain Harrow is confident that no more priests are hiding among them. But the prisoners themselves are dangerous enough, and we’ve received no request to ransom them back, or any word at all from Aboleth. If I may repeat my earlier suggestion—a painless death for them, and an end to one of our biggest worries.” Karim, Jerik, and Harrow all started to repeat their own opinions.

  “I have had enough of death,” said Maura. “No two of you can agree, so that leaves the choice to me—we’re letting them go.” Corwin started to argue, but she shook her head and he let her continue. “Each and every prisoner will be given the choice of returning home or staying in our city. If they choose to go, we’ll give them enough food and water to make it through the Wastes. We can even allow them to take a couple carts to carry the supplies if enough of them want to go. You’ll be in charge of that, please, Karim. I will let them leave if that’s their choice, but I don’t want them taking any more than absolutely necessary to get them home alive. We just don’t have enough to spare.” She looked around at all of them to make sure there were no more arguments. “Any of those who decide to stay will get to help with the reconstruction and farm work. Captain Harrow? That makes them your responsibility. They are to be treated the same as any citizen of Sacral with one exception—none of them are allowed to join the People’s Army, and they are not to own any weapons or armor.”

  “As fair a compromise as we’re likely to reach and one that’ll leave me with my conscience clear,” said Karim, nodding his approval.

  “There is also the matter of what is happening beyond the Wastes,” Sevren said. “As important as our efforts to restructure Sacral’s military are, I think we should also consider diplomacy going forward. Our neighbors to the east—Bialta—are apparently being invaded by a city-state from the desert beyond. None of the surviving mages in Sacral are very adept at long-distance scrying, but we’ve been able to detect the use of war magics across the southern part of the country and it seems that very large armies are on the move. Larger even than the forces the Abolians sent against us.” He stood up and walked over to one of the overly decorative maps that hung on the council chamber’s walls and pointed to the blank expanse that showed beyond the Icespine Mountains on their map. “The invaders are coming from somewhere out here. From what little we know of the outside world, Bialta is reputed to be one of the stronger nations on the continent. A gesture of peace toward them might stand us well. Especially when they are experiencing difficulties.”

  Corwin looked shocked. “Peace? Like our efforts with the Abolians? Look at where that got us.”

  “I’m not suggesting we send them soldiers, or get involved with their war in any way. I just think that if we were to send an envoy to Bialta and maybe south to Keral, it might help us understand what is happening in the world around us so we aren’t surprised again. Besides, I’m fairly sure the Abolians would have attacked regardless. Our gesture of support just made things easier for them.”

  “My lady, on a related note,” said Corwin. “Have you given any further thought to taking the crown? An envoy has to represent someone, and we will need a ruler as well as a strong army if we want to dissuade others from attacking us.” There was a chorus of agreement from everyone assembled.

  “My love,” said Beren. “I agree with them. Enough of walking back and forth from our little house to the palace every day. You should be here and be protected all the time, not just when you’re in the council chamber making decisions.”

  “You want to move in to the palace? To leave our home?”

  “It’s not our home anymore, Maura. It stopped being our home when the Abolians took our son from us. Now it’s just a house full of sad memories. Please, love. For me, move into the palace and let Harrow and the other Warchosen protect you as they should. It’s their duty and they’ll feel better for doing it.”

  “But . . . I can’t. We’ve already been over this. I’m just a normal person.”

  “You already are our queen, Lady Maura,” said Corwin, “in fact if not in title. The only complication is the status of your husband. . . . I do not believe the people will be so quick to accept him as king.”

  Beren looked up in shock. “I won’t be the king. I’ll just be the queen’s husband. Nothing more.”

  “I am quite relieved to hear you say that, Beren,” Corwin continued. “I’ve been researching the subject quite thoroughly these last days, and naming you the consort of the queen seems to be a rather simple matter in our laws—proof that we’ve had a ruling queen at least once in our history, though I couldn’t find her name.”

  “Besides, the people could use a celebration,” Jerik said. Maura stayed silent, unable or unwilling to say anything more.

  Harrow stood up. “I think Maura’s silence is as close to an agreement as we’re going to get. We are all in agreement?” Everyone but Maura nodded. “Then, Corwin, since you are the showman among us, would you be willing to plan the coronation?”

  The little man’s eyes lit up. “Oh, I can’t wait. I still haven’t had a chance to show you just what Corwin the Magnificent can do.”

  Dawn was only a short hour away. Skeg flexed his fingers and marveled at the complex patterns Nial and Zuly had woven within his flesh. The process had been . . . uncomfortable. At times it had even challenged Skeg’s legendary pain tolerance. He had lain on the floor for hours trying not to move while the girls used their magic to push mixtures of minerals and herbs into his body and then molded them into the patterns required to shape his raw talent into something useful—they had carved a pattern object into his flesh.

  “Try it out!” Nial said. “We’re sure it will work, Uncle,” she said brightly. “Just remember to hold your fingers out exactly like we showed you.”

  The back wall of Skeg’s shop was blank stone and was as solid as could be found in the Muds. Skeg held out his left hand and carefully moved his fingers into position. Feeling as excited as the night he had consumed the imp, he pushed a modest amount of power into his arm. Instantly, blue flames burst out of his palm and hit the wall with a dull thud. The flames dispersed when they hit, leaving behind a star-shaped black smear on the stone. Skeg laughed in delight. It was so easy. He tried again and again with varying levels of power. After only minutes of practice, the back wall of the shop was a blackened mess and Skeg felt like he was throwing flames as naturally as if he’d been born to it. His new wellspring of demonic power finally had a purpose beyond making him a little stronger physically. I wouldn’t have had enough power to throw fire more than once or twice before consuming that imp. Now it’s nothing.

  He turned to the girls to thank them, his voice even more hoarse than usual. “Girls, I . . . I don’t know how to thank you for this.”

  “You already have, Uncle,” Nial answered with a bright smile. “Besides,” added Zuly. “We’re just getting started. We have a couple more surprises we’ve been working on for you.” Inwardly, Nial was stunned to hear Zuly speak so freely and fought not to show her surprise. The combination of a project to turn their minds to and the support of Uncle Skeg seemed to have helped her come back to herself, if only while they were in the shop.

  Skeg walked over to Nial and pulled her close. It was the first time he could ever remember voluntarily hugging anyone. “You girls will make a real mage of me yet,” he whispered, trying to ignore the feel of their already swollen belly and everything it represented.

  The next night, Nial and Zuly were waiting in the shop when Skeg came down from his room.

  “We worked out something a little more complicated for your right arm, Uncle. We think you’ll like it.”

  “I’m sure I will. So what are you giving me now?”

  “Patience,” answered Zuly. “We’ll show you after it’s done. Now lie down and don’t move. We’ve taken a lot of materials from your shop for this and you don’t have enou
gh of a lot of things for us to try again.”

  Skeg did as he was told. This pattern took longer to complete. He heard the dull sound that warned of customers at his door several times and ignored it. It was quite maddening, lying there waiting for the searing pain running through his arm and shoulder to pass. Nial and Zuly were totally absorbed in their work. Neither one of them spoke at all. They just made small movements to pick up another pouch of components they had prepared and placed it against his skin. More often than not, they only used their talent to do everything. It almost felt like they were just staring intently at him for hours. Only rarely did they even blink.

  Hours passed. It must be hours. He felt like the bones in his arm were on fire. He was gritting his teeth, trying not to react to the pain. Finally, Nial stood up slowly and dusted off her dress.

  “We’re done, Uncle!” Nial smiled down at him. “We think you’re really going to like this one. It’s more useful than the first weave we made for you, but we thought you needed a way of protecting yourself before we did anything else.”

  Skeg pulled himself to his feet. He was trembling. Zuly looked him up and down. “You need to feed before we show you how to use it. Sit up against the wall there and rest. We’ll find you a meal.”

  Before he could argue, they were gone. The shop door closed behind them. Skeg had always been a patient man. He’d devised an almost excruciatingly slow path to power for himself, but now he was like a child waiting for his name-day gift. He would have argued with Zuly about his need for a meal. Her abrupt manner just showed that she had anticipated him. He was part demon now, and if there was one thing Zuly understood, it was his hunger.

  The girls stepped out into the street and let out a slow breath. So far they had managed to hide the impact the pregnancy was having on them from Skeg, but it was only a matter of time before he noticed. There was an urgency in the spawn of Amon Kareth—it grew far faster than any mortal child. Their stomach seemed to be expanding every day now. Their partially demonic body was coping with the rapid changes, but the spawn’s needs were draining the girls’ strength in ways they didn’t understand. Though their wellspring of power was undiminished, and the souls of their victims still brimmed with untapped energy, they always felt tired, and moving around was becoming increasingly difficult. Nial felt a mix of fear and curiosity when she looked down at their rounded belly, but the feelings from Zuly were more extreme and clear—loathing and disgust. The spawn was a living reminder of what Amon Kareth had done to them. It occurred to Nial that the feeling of helplessness that Zuly associated with their attack was possibly the hardest part of the ordeal for her to overcome.

  They moved around the Muds cautiously looking for any potential victims and hoping to find an animal of some sort they could take back for Skeg. The uproar they had caused in killing Gunnar Danekor hadn’t blown over as they had hoped. Groups of mages and armed soldiers still patrolled every part of the city. Not only were they having trouble dodging the patrols themselves, but the increased traffic was scaring their usual prey into hiding.

  Yet another group was approaching—six city watchmen escorting three Arcanum mages. Nial quickly pulled a weave around them to hide them from sight as they crouched on the edge of a rooftop. This is pointless, complained Zuly. We’ve been out too long already.

  Nial agreed. I guess we could just buy something for Uncle Skeg. There’s a market not far from here. Then they felt a surge of magic—formless but powerful—radiate from their belly. The girls froze, their heart beating faster. The Arcanum mages stopped dead, looking around for the source of the magic they had felt. That thing’s going to get us killed. Zuly slowly drew the Soul Knife out of their belt and prepared to fight. They stayed unmoving for a long time as the mages tried to locate the power they had felt, but eventually they moved off.

  The girls slowly relaxed. The last thing they wanted was to kill more Arcanum mages and stir things up even more. We just need to stop hunting for a while, thought Nial.

  Not hunting isn’t enough. We’re going to have to get farther away from the Arcanum. If the spawn is already doing this, it could be much worse as it gets bigger. We can’t sit in the ward circle forever.

  Skeg’s pain was already ebbing by the time the girls returned with their customary cup of blood for him. He drank it down as quickly as he could swallow—an obedient child gulping down his dinner so as to be allowed dessert.

  “Do you feel better, Uncle Skeg?” He nodded, wiping the blood from his lips with the back of his hand. “Now, this pattern is a lot more complex. We worked on the idea for a long time, and it’s not quite so easy to use. To start with, two patterns are linked in this one. If you hold your fingers out in the same position as we showed you for the flames, you will pull an object to yourself like this.” The empty cup flew from the floor next to him into her hand. “Now take it back.”

  Skeg smiled. The cup flew out of her hand and over to him. He caught it deftly. “Thank you again, girls. You’ve given me another skill of yours that I’ve always envied. And, again, it’s so damned easy to use! I can barely believe it!”

  “We’re not done yet Uncle. Make a fist now and try it.”

  Skeg placed the cup on the floor and pointed his fist at it. A little surge of power sent the cup skidding across the floor. Like a child with a new toy, Skeg sent the cup flying away from him and pulled it back again and again.

  “We’re so glad you like it. We wanted to finish it before we had to leave.” Nial smiled sadly. Skeg stood blinking at her in surprise. She tried again. “We have to leave Bialta; we have to get as far away from the Arcanum as we can.”

  “I’m sorry, girls. I’m just surprised and sorry to hear that. What brought this on? You know you can stay with me for as long as you need to.”

  “Something happened while we were hunting earlier.” She looked away. “Being pregnant is slowing us down, and we don’t know what’ll happen when it’s born.” The tears were streaming down her face now. She looked straight at him finally. “The thing inside us . . . we felt its power. We’ve been trying to pretend everything’s normal . . . but I’m scared.”

  “Are you sure?” The tears just kept falling as she looked at him miserably. “I’m sorry, girls.” Skeg continued shaking his head. “Of course you’re sure. And you’re right to get out of Darien, and maybe even Bialta. It will only be a matter of time before we attract the wrong sort of attention. Stay here. Sit in the circle. I’ll bring a few cushions to make you more comfortable. Don’t leave the shop any more than you need to. I’ll only need a few hours to prepare, then we’ll head south and aim for the border.”

  Tentatively Skeg reached out and squeezed their shoulder. Their whole body started to tremble. Skeg let go and rushed out of the shop. He had a thousand things to do and no time to do them. Luckily, he had planned for the day he’d need to make a hasty escape. It was only prudent given the illegality of his chosen profession. Skeg had amassed a small fortune in the years he’d been running his shop. He had dipped into his savings a lot these past months, but there was more than enough left to move and set up elsewhere, perhaps to even allow himself to live in a little more comfort. First though, he’d need to find a safe place for them to hole up until the child was born. Trouble will follow the child. But Skeg’s view of all things demonic had changed since meeting Nial and Zuly. If he was honest with himself, he’d admit that he was looking forward to the birth. He already thought of the baby as his grandchild. And, the Muds are no place to raise a baby.

  The girls sat in the warded circle and waited with Nial gnawing on their fingernails. The last few days had proven to them just how important it was for them to get out of Darien—the thing growing inside them was now almost constantly radiating powerful if formless magic. It’s all so unfair! Nial liked to think they had made a difference here. That they had made the worst part of this sprawling city a little safer for the poor people who had to live here. She didn’t want to leave. She didn’t want to leave
her home or even her father. Even if he refused to look at her. It’s all because of Amon Kareth! At the thought of the name, wordless anger and hatred bubbled up from Zuly. The child within them stirred. Nial shifted uncomfortably. At least Uncle Skeg is coming with us. Zuly calmed slightly and the child settled. It understands so much already, Nial thought to herself, careful this time to keep her thoughts private. She let out a long sigh—surely other women didn’t have to deal with so much to carry a baby.

  Skeg finally came back into the shop. Nial realized with a start that they’d been dozing again. It was becoming harder and harder to stay awake for any length of time.

  “Everything’s ready, girls. I have a cart outside packed with most of what we’ll need. I have a few things here that I want to grab, but we’d best be off as quick as we can. A contact of mine is working at the South Gate. We need to get there before the shift change.”

  Nial nodded at him sleepily. It was so hard to keep their eyes open now. “We’ll get you settled in the back of the cart, and I’ll just pop back in to grab a few things.”

  A large horse-drawn cart nearly filled the alley. The two dun-colored horses harnessed to the cart snorted impatiently. Skeg helped the girls climb up and got them settled in a hollow he had obviously prepared for them. He surrounded them with soft bundles, cushions, and blankets. “You should be able to relax here. The cart is almost as heavily warded as the shop.” Nial only managed to look at him in surprise. “This is the cart one of my contacts uses to sneak supplies into the city for me.” Skeg hopped off the back of the cart and went back inside.

  Nial couldn’t help feeling a twinge of jealousy at how freely he moved. I don’t understand how this pregnancy business works. I can lift a grown man with no effort but my own body seems almost impossibly heavy. Their eyelids slid closed again.

  The cart jolted and Nial opened her eyes with a start. The sun was setting beyond some hills. Fields and farms extended off in every direction. “Uncle Skeg?” He was sitting in front of them wearing an oiled rain cloak and a floppy wide-brimmed hat. Overall, the outfit might have made him stand out less on the road, had it not been so warm and clear out.