A Lair of Bones

by Helen Scheuerer

  Ames cleared his throat. ‘Now, if you’re done stealing supplies from my workshop, you might want to absent yourself before my class returns from break.’

  All of a sudden, it seemed, the eve of the second trial was upon them. Roh hovered over Odi’s shoulder as they at last prepared to test the piano’s sound. He sat before the instrument on a makeshift stool he’d crafted from timber offcuts, his half-gloved fingers poised above the incomplete keys.

  ‘I cannot believe I let you talk me into this,’ he muttered, staring at the gleaming ivory at his fingertips. Bone.

  ‘I had to link it to Saddoriel in a way that the highborns understand,’ Roh argued, resisting the urge to press down on the keys herself.

  Odi shook his head. ‘You tainted it with cyren barbarism.’

  ‘Cyren barbarism might be the thing that gets us into the final trial.’

  Odi sighed in defeat. They’d had this argument several times already and Roh knew how it ended. ‘Just test it, will you?’

  With a curse, Odi hit the first key to test the hold of the wire and Roh gaped in utter, unabandoned awe. A note, a note of music. There was no mistaking it.

  Odi nodded to himself and pressed another. ‘This is promising.’

  ‘Promising?’ Roh crossed her arms over her chest.

  ‘That’s what I said.’ Even Odi’s quiet demeanour had a limit. They had spent days and weeks on end together and Roh’s last-minute addition to the piano had caused a ripple in their otherwise calm companionship. Now in silent tension, they strung the last of the wires by hand, threading them through their rightful place on the long and short bridges between the pins, checking the pressure so that the hammers struck the string at their vital, accurate points.

  Roh glued the bone keys in place, only noticing that her fingers had bled through the bandages when she had to wipe the red smudges from the piano. She was too caught up in what they’d made, what had taken shape before them. It looked completely foreign to her, but there was something about it …

  Odi finally returned to the stool and glanced up at Roh, looking uncertain for the first time since they had started the build. ‘I believe this is what they call “the moment of truth”.’

  Roh nearly baulked. Was something wrong? Why was he nervous now? Did it not look how it was supposed to? She crossed her arms, mainly to calm her thumping heart. ‘So test it,’ she said, sounding steadier than she felt.

  He pressed down on one key after another, the notes climbing with his fingers.

  ‘And?’ she asked, scarcely daring to breathe.

  Odi plunged his elegant fingers across the length of their creation. The strings vibrated, producing their own individual, specific, musical notes. Just as he’d said they would.

  ‘These are just scales,’ he explained. ‘They help musicians warm up, but also help makers check the instrument for tonal perfection.’

  Roh swallowed hard and sat down on the stool beside Odi. She knew nothing about tonal perfection, but if the notes humming beneath Odi’s fingers could be turned into a melody, then … ‘You’re sure they’ll be able to play?’ she heard herself ask. ‘The fiddlers? What if they only play the fiddle?’

  ‘The Eery Brothers are two of the most famous musicians in my realm. Musicians of that calibre start on the piano. They learn these scales. They use the piano to tune their other instruments. They’ll be able to play.’

  A fist of anxiety clenched around Roh’s heart. ‘How can you be sure?’

  Odi considered her, his fingers hovering above the unfinished keys. ‘I just am. Trust me.’

  Trust had never come easily to Roh, and the trust between her and Odi in particular seemed even more fickle. It came in unpredictable waves; one moment he was saving her life, the next he was urging her into quicksand. It was like there was a set of weights between them, each adding and taking away enough that neither side touched the ground, yet neither side was ever even. But as Odi’s fingers picked up their pace again, gracefully dancing along the bone keys, climbing the so-called scales, Roh made a decision.

  ‘Alright,’ she said. ‘I trust you.’

  Chapter Eighteen

  Roh stood at the entrance of the hall, between the statues of Dresmis and Thera, their wings outstretched as though ready to embrace her as she peered into the vast cavern beyond. Lanterns, candles and jars of valo beetles cast golden light across the immense platform that had been built over the narrow bridges of the Great Hall. She kept her clammy hands in her pockets as she entered with Odi and three porters behind her, carefully pulling a canvas-covered trolley in tow. Roh’s eyes went to the great expanses of art stretched across the ceilings: goddesses and past rulers, all revelling in triumph after triumph. The sense of history bore down on her, the vast chronicles of her kind making her feel small, forcing the question of whether or not any of her own actions would ever be deemed worthy of art, of remembering.

  As she walked, her knees felt weak, buckling slightly when she came to a stop near the centre of the hall. The image of Tess trying to walk after the quicksand filled her mind; was that what she looked like now? Like some terrified newborn animal? She hoped she could mask her feelings better than the human had as she spotted the Council of Seven Elders, standing in a huddle beside Queen Delja. The queen sat in an impressive coral throne to match her coral crown, nodding along as her council murmured in her ears, but her attention was elsewhere. Her scales shone as she angled her head, focusing on the centre of the hall.

  With her heart in her throat, Roh turned back to Odi and the porters, who were still inching the trolley down the makeshift ramp and into the main section of the hall. One of the bandages around Odi’s fingers had come loose, leaving a ribbon of bloodied white hanging at his side. Roh glanced down at her own hands – she too sported red-spotted bandages around her fingers. Some points were still raw and pulsing beneath the linen strips. She recalled the scales Odi had played over and over into the early hours of the morning. They were as ready as they would ever be. She flinched as the trolley jolted loudly over a stone.

  ‘Be careful,’ she hissed. All that work, all those risks … It couldn’t have all been for nothing.

  Finally, the porters settled the trolley next to Zokez and his human. They stood beside something the size of a wine barrel, covered in a grey tarp, and didn’t spare her a glance. Odi’s shoulder brushed against Roh’s as he came to stand at her side and she heard him exhale a shaky breath.

  ‘Alright?’ she asked softly.

  He nodded stiffly, back rigid.

  This is just as important for him now, a small voice said inside her head. She knew what the stakes were for him, too, that he was clinging to the promise she had made him in the tunnels. That he also now felt the cloud of pressure hanging over them, dark and rumbling, ready to burst. Odi had come back to help her, and had created the beautiful instrument that lay beneath the canvas on the trolley. And what if it wasn’t enough? What if they didn’t make it past this trial? What if she had to return to cleaning bones after everything they had done? What would become of him? What could she do to save him? From the corner of her eye, she could see the other competitors filing in, glancing nervously at the great queen before them, their creations hidden away by canvases and tarps, but she was already sucked into the whirlpool of anticipation that unlocked the darker level of her fears at a dizzying pace. Roh’s fingers twitched at her side as she made to grip Odi’s hand —

  A cyren touching a human in the Great Hall of Saddoriel? Never. Her fingers stilled.

  Odi nudged her, nodding to a figure across the hall. Tess. The human stood beside Yrsa Ward, her eyes bright and colour high on her cheeks.

  So, they found her protective token.

  ‘She looks …’ Roh started.

  ‘Safe?’ Odi finished for her. It was a strange term for a human to speak in the heart of the lair, but the word died on Odi’s lips as a commotion from the entrance sounded. It was Finn Haertel. Behind him and his human, an entour
age wheeled a massive contraption inside. It was larger than Roh and Odi’s, only just managing to fit through the giant double doors. Roh couldn’t even guess at what might lie beneath the numerous sheets covering it. Did she even want to know? She swallowed the rising panic in her chest and the lump in her throat. There was no way of knowing what any of the competitors had built, no way of knowing who would still be standing here at the end.

  A bell chimed; the clear, singular note echoed throughout the chamber and Elder Colter stepped to the forefront of the council. ‘Competitors, welcome to the second trial of the Queen’s Tournament,’ he said, his voice effortlessly projecting across the space. ‘Our queen, my fellow council elders and I are eager to see what you have built for us. You will be called by name. You will tell the council what you have created, and where applicable, provide a demonstration. Our judgement will be reserved until the end of the presentations.’

  Roh cursed silently. That meant she would be last, as always. As if her nerves weren’t already in tatters.

  ‘Finn Haertel,’ Elder Colter called. ‘If you please …’

  Everyone, Roh included, turned to face the highborn. His expression betrayed nothing, as though he were just as comfortable here as he would be in his own quarters.

  And why wouldn’t he be? Roh mused, hands clenched at her sides as she glanced towards the Council of Elders, where, despite their neutral composure, Bloodwyn and Taro Haertel stood proudly.

  ‘My warmest greetings to Her Majesty, Queen Delja, and the Council of Seven Elders,’ Finn said, his voice strong and clear. ‘It is my privilege to present to you today.’

  If Roh hadn’t been so nervous, she might have scoffed. As if he needs to bootlick. The sideways glance she received from Odi told her he thought the same.

  Finn reached for the corner of one of the sheets covering his creation. Roh thought her heart might stop as the highborn cleared his throat and pulled.

  A unified gasp sounded all around, and Roh swore softly. It was … She didn’t know what it was. A storage vessel of sorts … made of bones.

  ‘This is a musician transporter,’ Finn started. ‘A completely new contraption specifically designed for the Jaktaren guild.’

  ‘What?’ Roh muttered to Odi. ‘What does that even mean?’ From the confused expressions of her fellow competitors, she wasn’t the only one who had no idea where Finn was going with this. But as always, his expression was calm and smug.

  ‘Allow me to demonstrate,’ he continued, seeming to savour the suspense as he pulled a lever. A gate opened. ‘This design has numerous special features: the ability to have separate compartments, so captured musicians can be held individually.’ He pulled another lever and a row of bars came swinging down, splitting the cage into various chambers. ‘It also has several smaller gaps where food and water can be delivered or retrieved from each section, without opening the larger doors.’ He pointed to a small section and slid it open. ‘But the best part …’

  Odi ducked his head close to Roh’s. ‘There’s a “best part” to this monstrosity?’ he whispered with disgust. ‘Just how many musicians do the Jaktaren steal from the human realms?’

  Roh folded her arms over her chest; she was inclined to agree with him.

  ‘It’s completely collapsible, transportable, and reassembles within moments.’ He unlatched a bone at the cage’s side. The whole thing folded neatly to the ground. After several quick and effortless motions, it was no bigger than a crate. ‘The Jaktaren can take this with them on assignments, with minimal strain on existing resources. It then assembles like so …’ Finn pulled something else and the contraption sprang back to its full form. ‘And can be used however the Jaktaren leaders see fit. Alternatively, it could be used as a bone transporter.’

  Dazed, Roh fixed her gaze on the bone transporter, recalling the sectioned-off part of the workshop. That bastard, she realised. Haertel had had her friends working overtime to create this horrific contraption. This piece of junk had been there in her workshop when she’d peered through the window the other day. Her friends had cleaned and sorted the bones for him. The highborn prick hadn’t lifted a finger, that much was clear. How could he do that? How could they?

  ‘A bone transporter,’ she muttered. ‘What sort of garbage is that?’

  ‘The same garbage as a musician transporter.’ Odi looked equally horrified. ‘From the looks of it, your council doesn’t seem to think it’s garbage at all.’ Roh followed his gaze to the Council of Seven Elders, who were now walking around the contraption, some taking notes. Queen Delja, however, remained seated in her throne.

  ‘Is this something your guild or army would actually use?’ Odi asked.

  Roh watched the elders make their final observations then return to their positions before the competitors. ‘It seems completely unnecessary, but … I don’t know.’ As the words left her lips, she knew them for the lie they were. She did know. The answer was yes. Saddorien cyrens would indeed use such a device.

  ‘Yrsa Ward.’ Elder Colter’s voice cut through Roh’s turmoil and she grew rigid as the highborn cyren and Tess stepped forward. It was the ‘moment of truth’, as Odi had called it. Would this be when Roh’s choices came back to bite her? She shifted from foot to foot as Yrsa clasped her hands together before her. She made no show of greeting the queen or the council. She simply launched straight into her presentation.

  ‘What I have here today is just a sample of the larger project I have created,’ she said, motioning to the covered structure before her, no bigger than the side table in Roh’s chamber. Without further fanfare, Yrsa nodded to Tess, who removed the sheet.

  Roh took a step forward, and another, and another, as did the other competitors around her. She still couldn’t quite see what lay within the box besides straw and several jars of valo beetles, glowing brightly. Yrsa lifted the box, tilting it on an angle to reveal its contents to them. Eggs. Crimson, scaled eggs. And around them was Yrsa’s horned serpent.

  ‘It’s a breeding program,’ she explained. ‘To increase the numbers of these rare and endangered creatures. Creatures who have been a part of our history for so long.’

  Roh could hear murmurs of approval from the council, and she had to hand it to Yrsa. It was nothing if not original. Slowly, the ugly beast of envy within Roh writhed uncomfortably.

  Zokez was called next. Roh shuffled away from him, feeling uncomfortable with the spotlight so close to her. Zokez presented a vault for currency, not even hiding his link to the Council of Elders as the son of Koras Rasaat, the authority on the treasury. Another name was called. Arcelia Bellfast. Roh looked to her former teacher eagerly, but before Arcelia could open her mouth, Elder Colter spoke again.

  ‘Where is your human?’

  Arcelia bowed her head. ‘Dead, Elder Colter. She died earlier this week. She misplaced her token and was taken by the lure of the lair.’

  Shock rolled through Roh and the other competitors. Arcelia’s human was dead? She had warned Arcelia before the trials had even begun to watch out for sabotage. Had she not heeded Roh’s warning? But then … Roh, too, despite her every effort to keep Odi safe, had found herself in a similar position not long ago. She took a small step closer to him now.

  ‘Very well, Arcelia Bellfast. You are hereby eliminated from the tournament,’ Elder Colter said.

  Stony-faced, Arcelia bowed deeply to Queen Delja, who inclined her head ever so slightly. In her crown, the birthstones of Saddoriel seemed to pulse with power.

  Still bent at the waist, Arcelia cleared her throat. ‘I thank you for the opportunity to compete before you, Majesty.’

  Queen Delja said nothing. She merely watched blankly as Arcelia was escorted out. Roh stared after her in disbelief, then glanced across at Finn Haertel. As if he needed to resort to stealing humans’ tokens. It was such an underhanded move. Arcelia deserved to be here, more than most, and yet … her time here was done. Roh averted her gaze. She had to focus on what was happening now. It would be her
turn soon, and she had to do their creation justice. She had to ensure it wasn’t her being escorted away.

  Next was Estin Ruhne. Roh schooled her face into neutrality, despite the anger that simmered in her gut at the sight of the renowned architect. Estin revealed a miniature model of a library designed specifically for the queen’s private quarters. Roh couldn’t help the pang that hit her in the chest. It was a dazzling design. Swirling spiral staircases that ran the length of the room, bookcases that rotated, revealing additional chambers beyond for the queen’s most prized tomes. There was no denying: it was a work of art. Estin bowed at the applause that broke out around her. Teeth gritted, Roh clapped as well. She didn’t do so for the architect, who had lost her respect weeks ago, but for the creation itself. Although Roh had never really been one for books, she respected the intricacies and level of detail in the design, the deep thought that had gone into every shelf, every hinge.

  The queen’s talons rapped against the arm of the throne and Elder Colter cleared his throat, drawing their attention back to him. ‘Miriald Montalle,’ he announced.

  The army leader wheeled something forward, sweeping the cover off quickly to reveal a freestanding crossbow. It was an imposing structure, and for a moment Roh pictured it on a battle shore, firing into an oncoming enemy. It had a daunting presence about it, that was for sure. But Miriald’s hands were shaking as she fitted a bolt to its chamber and drew the lever back. She released the catch and —

  Nothing happened.

  Miriald muttered something to herself and tried again. But the crossbow failed to fire.

  ‘I’m afraid your project isn’t in working condition, Commander Montalle.’ It looked as though Elder Colter’s words visibly sank into Miriald. She nodded, head hung in defeat. Offering no final words, no thanks to the queen upon her departure, the army leader left before the guards could escort her, tugging her human behind her. She didn’t look back.