The Bones of the Earth- The Complete Collection

by Scott Hale

  I need to ask Justine what these are, he thought, looking both ways down the torch-lit hall. And then he froze, Isla Taggart’s words from earlier today popping into his head: “The Mother Abbess has eyes and ears everywhere.” Of course, she could have been talking about almost anyone or anything, but even Audra had called the statues spies.

  He told himself to worry about that later. Returning to the hidden place, he bent down, said to Audra, “I’m going now,” and went.

  About halfway to his room, Felix felt as though he had swallowed a bottle full of quicksand. He stopped, propped himself up against the wall. Cold beads of sweat trickled down the back of his neck. For a second, he thought it was the potion, but deep down, he knew it wasn’t. It was the realization that he was about to go directly against the orders of the Mother Abbess by letting the Holy Order’s prisoner stay in his freaking room. What was he thinking? He banged his head against the cobblestones. Why would she want him to be the last Holy Child if he went and did something like that?

  “This is what happens when you don’t talk to me, god,” Felix whispered, clenching his eyes shut. “I’m just a stupid little kid without you. I can’t do anything right. I’m so—”

  Footsteps. He opened his eyes and leaned away from the wall. There, a little down the hall, Avery and Mackenzie stood, jaws dropped, eyebrows raised.

  Avery, red in the face, started first. “Where. Have. You. Been?”

  Mackenzie threw up her hand. “It’s not for us to know.”

  “But it is for us to keep him safe! I’m sorry, Mackenzie, but I care about our Holy Child, whether the Mother Abbess does or not.”

  “Hush!” She looked behind them. She slapped the back of his helmet. “Your holiness, please disregard what Avery said. We were worried sick. The Mother Abbess cares for you deeply. We do not always understand her decisions to send you out alone, but it is not our place—” She bared her teeth at Avery. “—It is not our place to.”

  Felix ignored her. “What time is it?”

  “Late,” Avery said. “Past your dinner with the Mother Abbess.”

  “Is she expecting me?”

  Mackenzie nodded like she’d had too much coffee. “The Mother Abbess knows you’ve been busy these last few weeks. The Mother Abbess didn’t request you until just now. And it was an urgent request. So, if you don’t mind, please, come with us, your holiness.”

  “But you guys,” Felix said, starting forward, “know about the white key. And the room in the abandoned part of the cloister.”

  “We do what we’re told, your holiness,” Avery said. He and Mackenzie parted for Felix to take the lead through the Ascent. “We do not ask questions, because we both know no one will guard you better than myself. And Mackenzie… I guess.”

  She smiled, pointed at him, and then her sword.

  Avery moved to put his hand on Felix’s shoulder, but stopped himself. “The Mother Abbess loves you greatly. If you trust her, we trust her.”

  He knew he shouldn’t have said it, but he did, anyway. “And if I didn’t?”

  Mackenzie’s mouth tightened. “Hurry, your holiness. She’s been waiting. And people are starting to talk about how often you’ve been missing your duties. We don’t want a repeat—”

  “—Of when Samuel Turov took me?” Felix interrupted. The slashes on his ankles started to burn; so did the scars on his thigh.

  “Yes,” Avery said. This time, he did put his arm around him. “We do not want a repeat of any of… that.”

  They didn’t go back the way towards the hiding place, but Felix figured Audra was a smart enough woman that she could handle a small change of plans. Instead, he and his guards headed into the cloister, where stalwart torches burned against the blizzard pouring through its open roof. Avery and Mackenzie bunched up against him, to protect him from winter’s icy venom.

  “Who the heck thought it would be a good idea not to a put a roof on this place?” Felix shouted over the unending wind.

  Mackenzie put her weight against him. He took the hint, took the steps to the first floor of the cloister, and turned down the furthest arcade.

  “Ever s-s-see it accumulate it though?” Avery chattered out.

  “No more than a few inches,” he said. He tried to curl the numbness from his toes, but it wasn’t having any of that. “Always figured—” Avery nudged him down another arcade, which ran west to Pyra’s Tribunal, “—someone cleared it before people woke up.”

  “No one could clear this much snow,” Mackenzie said. She blew on her hands and pressed them to Felix’s neck to warm him. “It just melts faster than it can stick. Miracle from god, I suppose.”

  The Tribunal. Wait, why were they going to the Tribunal? Felix dug his heels into the ground and said, “Why are we going this way?”

  “The Mother Abbess is holding Vehmic Court,” Avery said. “She wants you there to pass judgment.”

  “What?” Felix threw out his hands. “Whoa, wait. On who? Why?” He looked ahead, where the cloister stopped and a second courtyard began. A great slab of stone loomed over it, like some sad silo where a human crop was kept. This was the Tribunal, and those that entered its massive steel doors to be judged seldom came out again. “I’m the Holy Child. I don’t do that.”

  Voice choked, Mackenzie said, “You do now.”

  The cloister was empty, because everyone was here, in the Tribunal, roaming its halls in their nightwear, trying to figure out what was going on and how they could use it to their advantage. Because he had been with Audra not fifteen minutes earlier, Felix figured it either had to do with Winnowers’ Chapter, Deimos and Lucan, or, heck, even the Cult of the Worm, whatever that was.

  Avery had said Justine was holding a Vehmic Court, but the thing about Vehmic Courts was that they were supposed to be in secret, with only the Mother Abbess, the six exemplars, and the guilty present. These were final judgments, not trials, of individuals found undeniably guilty of crimes against the church, such as apostasy, treason, or murder. The fact that they were a secret was an old tradition meant to scare those from following in the offenders’ footsteps. Maybe that was why all these people were here, Felix thought. Another old tradition she was slowly trying to do away with, like how she didn’t want to train anymore Holy Children.

  “Step aside,” Avery bellowed.

  Felix threw up his hands. Those gathered went silent and to their knees; another perk of being god’s speaker, one which he didn’t take advantage of enough.

  “Part,” Mackenzie cried. She drew her sword, which was unnecessary, but did the job well enough.

  Several more guards emerged from amongst the people of Pyra and they, too, made a path through the gossipmongers. They waved Felix onward, so with his two best friends, he moved onward.

  Most of the people in the Tribunal tonight were what the Demagogue often called the “important people.” Unlike the “unwashed masses” that strolled in to the abbey on a daily basis, they didn’t try to touch Felix or beg him for guidance or prayers. So when he went past them, he did so without having to hear Avery and Mackenzie break bones behind him.

  “Through here, your holiness,” one of the guards said. He gestured to a small, wooden door with black metalwork. The door itself looked scorched. Most likely to remind the guilty who passed through it of the hell they were headed off to.

  Felix took a deep breath and, with both hands and a little help from Mackenzie, pushed the door open. It budged about six or seven inches, but in the interest of saving face, Felix sucked it up and slipped into the courtroom on the other side.

  There wasn’t much to see, because there wasn’t much to see. Except for the ten tiny candles laid out across the room, it was pitch-black inside. But at the back of the courtroom, there was something else: a white twinkle, like gems catching light.

  “Is that you?” Justine asked. A flame appeared in the palm of a hand. There was her face, smiling above it. “I’m so happy you came. I think we both lost track of time today.”r />
  Felix, going forward, said, “What do you want me… to do?”

  “Come up here with me.” Justine took the flame in her hand and lit two candles. She placed one in front of her, at the top of the podium she stood at, and one on the podium beside her. “The Holy Child has never had a place at court before. I borrowed this other podium from another room. It will do until we have your own crafted.”

  Felix’s stomach started to knot. “I can’t see where I’m going.”

  “Here.” Justine disappeared from the candlelight.

  Out of nowhere, two warm hands wrapped around Felix’s. “Ah,” he shouted, pulling away.

  “It’s me.” Justine’s voice was still distant, still up there behind the podium, even though, apparently, she was right in front of him. “There are steps. Take it slow.”

  Felix squeezed the Mother Abbess’ wrists. His toe hit with a loud thump the stairs she had mentioned. They were at the foot of the podium, which seemed several feet high now that he was under it.

  Carefully, he went up the steps, turning as they turned around the podiums, until he was behind both and facing that infinite expanse of courtroom abyss.

  “Why’s it so dark in here?” he asked.

  Justine let go of him. Before his hands were at his sides, she appeared back at the podium. Hovering over the candle, her thin skin looked how a leaf would if he held it up to the sun.

  “I find it is easier to make hard decisions in the dark. There are less distractions. Come,” she held out her hand to his podium, “take your place at my side.”

  “Okay,” Felix said softly. He stepped up to his podium and rested his hands beneath the candle there. Hot wax dripped onto his skin, but he didn’t flinch. There were good pains, and that was one of them.

  “I cannot believe that it was just this morning I asked you to follow Father Marshall Jones.”

  “He met with Isla Taggart in the Lyceum,” Felix said.

  “I know.” Justine smiled. She adjusted the strap on her black gown. The smell of burning wood came out of the fabric. “Isla was planning on releasing Audra. She was going to use her to make contact with King Edgar. Father Marshall Jones did not agree with Isla’s idea.”

  “How do you know that?” Felix remembered the living statue with the star-shaped head he had seen in the Lyceum. Eyes and ears everywhere.

  “Father Marshall Jones told me himself,” Justine said, as though countering his thought. “After I interrogated him.”

  This time, Felix’s hand did twitch when the hot wax dribbled onto it. “Interrogated him?”

  Somewhere in the courtroom, someone coughed.

  Justine clicked her tongue. The coughing stopped.

  Felix leaned over the podium, saying, “What was—?”

  “You’ve talked enough to Audra of Eldrus and several Winnowers by now to know Alexander Blodworth was a bad man, right?”

  “Oh.” He nodded. He did. He had forgotten, but he did. “Oh, yeah. But, I mean, I don’t… There’re so many questions, so many things I don’t understand.”

  Justine took his wax-covered hand and started picking away the parts that had dried. “I know. I have asked you to grow up very quickly these last few weeks.” She smiled, lifted his hand to her lips, and kissed it.

  She had never done that before. It made him feel funny.

  “Alexander Blodworth was a bad man. He had forged a secret alliance in Eldrus with King Edgar and Archivist Amon. Part of that alliance involved destroying Geharra, using Audra’s Crossbreed and a Worm of the Earth.”

  “Why?” Felix asked.

  Someone else coughed in the room.

  Justine clicked her tongue again. “The Disciples of the Deep. It was a way in which Eldrus could slowly but surely propagate its new religion. They created a tragedy and an overwhelming threat with which only they had the tools to combat. King Edgar had tried to move into the Heartland years ago, but the Heartland rebelled. So he and Alexander Blodworth devised that insidious plan, instead.

  “I do not know the full details, even now, but I do know Alexander Blodworth was the one who had Samuel Turov take you into the South. And I do know he did this to ensure that I would give him permission to travel to Geharra, to not only look for you, but help us make our way back into the city. I was desperate. He took advantage of that desperation. I figured that, even if you weren’t there, it would buy us enough time to find you elsewhere.”

  Felix swallowed hard. “You really didn’t know the exemplar was going to take me?”

  Justine shook her head. “I really didn’t, Felix.” And then she continued. “The Winnowers’ Chapter is Alexander Blodworth’s pet. He put it together sometime after the royal family of Eldrus was murdered. My fault was assuming that they wanted to do our jobs better. What I didn’t realize is that they were representing another religion entirely.”

  “The Disciples of the Deep,” Felix whispered.

  “Exactly. Because Alexander Blodworth died in Geharra, they have been trying to continue operations without him. He entrusted Audra’s care to them. Isla Taggart is a colossal moron, Felix, do not get me wrong, but she is correct in assuming Audra is meant to be a connection to King Edgar. Alexander Blodworth brought her here for that reason, and for her abilities as a botanist. He wanted her to recreate her success with the Crossbreed, but instead, it seems she’s outdone herself and created a Bloodless.”

  “You’ve seen it?” Felix covered his mouth, to hide the way his words shook.

  “Not recently.”

  Again, someone coughed. And someone started to hyperventilate.

  Justine made a fist and slammed it like a gavel against the podium. The candle jumped in place.

  Felix’s eyes darted back and forth across the courtroom. “Is there someone else in here?”

  “Yes,” Justine said. She took a deep breath and uncurled her fist. “The Winnowers’ Chapter have converted those who guard and tend to Audra’s cell. They have been supplying her with the means to create the mythological plant, the Bloodless. It is our belief they did this to orchestrate her escape and to launch an attack on Pyra itself, to better the Disciples of the Deep’s position here. In doing so, they have graduated from being annoying elitists to dangerous terrorists. So they are here tonight, in this Vehmic Court, to receive the punishment for their heinous crimes.”

  “What?” Felix leaned over the podium. He looked at the ten candles that ran along the room. “They’re here?”

  “Vehmic Court is a stretch of the phrase,” Justine went on, ignoring him. He noticed another white twinkle, somewhere near where she stood. “You saw the crowd. This is hardly a secret meeting. I made sure the Demagogue spread the word of what was going on here. But before we open the doors to our disposition, we have to come up with one. Are you ready?”

  “Ready?” Felix put his hands together, as though to pray. “Ready for what?”

  Justine smiled, fixed the strap on her dress again. “Lights, please.”

  Across the courtroom, a massive torch exploded in flames. Holding the torch was one of the living statues Felix had seen outside Audra’s prison. Still covered in the waxen sheet that ran from its star-shaped head to its bare ankles, the walking marble monstrosity went about the room, lighting the sconces on the wall.

  “What are they?” Without realizing it, he had stepped out from behind his podium and into Justine’s. “What are—?”

  A cone of light crossed the court from the first sconce. In it, Felix saw another living statue. It was standing behind one of the ten candles, and it was holding a man.

  “M-mother Abbess…?”

  Another sconce flared, and another living statue was revealed, with yet another body in its grasp. As more light filled the room, he saw there were more living statues, and each one was holding a prisoner tightly against its unbreathing chest.

  With the last sconce lit, the count was ten. Ten living statues with ten living captives. Felix’s mouth had gone dry at the sight. The tiny
candles were in front of them; and he had been so close. In the dark, he hadn’t even noticed they were there.

  “Father Marshall Jones,” Felix said, recognizing the old man as he slowly awoke in the statue’s clutches. “Father Peter Smith. Sister Mary Pascal. Father Conahan. Sister Beth Chambers.” They were waking, too. They were all waking up, waking up to lie down with damnation. “These are all—” Sister Zoe Mura, Sister Alexandra, Father Perrin Tribble, Father Davidian, Blessed Mother Lysandra, “—the Winnowers’ Chapter.”

  “Not all of them,” Justine said. “They have about two hundred supporters. These are just the leaders.” She leaned forward, her elbows on Felix’s shoulders, and pointed to the torch-bearing living statue. “That one was meant for Isla Taggart. But the she-snake slipped our grip. Funny thing is, she went missing about the same time we lost track of the soldiers from Geharra.”

  Deimos and Lucan.

  “Coincidence, or more double-crossing? Hard to say. But I guess there will not be a homecoming party for them.” She stood upright. “Their punishment is death, though, these esteemed Winnowers, is it not, Felix?”

  Was she asking him to put them to death? No, no, he couldn’t, wouldn’t, do that. He would do almost anything for Justine, but not this. He was god’s speaker, not god’s weapon.

  “Felix.” Justine bent over, looking him in the eyes as the Winnower leaders started to squirm and scream. “I will pass judgment. But you are the one who I have chosen to guide the Holy Order of Penance through these troublesome times. If the punishment is death, tell me it is so. If it is not, then what would you have us do with terrorists and their ilk?”

  What do I do god? What do I do? He looked at the ten traitors, at the ten statues standing there, their grips slowly tightening around them. Their punishment was death, he knew that. But he didn’t want to say it. If he said it, then his punishment would be death, too. Because if everything went right, then Audra was in his room right now, making him more of a traitor than those restrained here tonight.