The Bones of the Earth- The Complete Collection

by Scott Hale

  Felix stared at her for a while, clearly working out something in his head, and said, “Do you think she knew? Is that why Audra wasn’t there?”

  Isla’s first instinct was to lie to him. Her second, to turn him against others. Instead, she thought back to her meeting with King Edgar in the Archivist’s tower, when the celebration had solely been for Joy, to announce her arrival and let her rub elbows with the rich and powerful; not to introduce a new allegiance between the Disciples of the Deep and the Holy Order of Penance.

  “Audra was definitely busy,” Isla said.

  “I know, but… Was I bait?”

  “The celebration was always a sham. I think you and Justine arriving when you did only… sweetened the deal.”

  “But they were going to do it anyway if we didn’t come?”

  “I think so.”

  Felix held himself, rubbed his arms. His breaths were so quiet, it was as if he weren’t breathing at all. He’d taken a bath earlier, but she could tell he felt dirty again. She did, too. Like this torture chamber, no matter how many times they washed themselves, they never could get clean. All it took was for the wind to blow the right way, and you’d know, right away, something was wrong with the both of them.

  “All people want to do is use me,” Felix said. “I thought everything would be better since me and Audra are going to be Speakers.”

  “It can be.” Isla watched a doctor dig a metal ball out of Vincent’s offspring. “It still can be. Never again, right?”

  Felix gave her half a smile, cheek puffed out like a chipmunk’s, and said, “Yeah.”

  “King Edgar gave me tons of statistics on every village, town, and city. Do you know where abuse happens the most?”

  He didn’t say anything.

  “Holy Order places, especially Penance. I mean it’s bad everywhere. I thought he’d skewed the results some, but… thinking about some things… I bet it’s right. And it’s been going on for a really long time.”

  Felix was getting anxious. He started scratching his legs.

  “Me and you couldn’t really change anything, because everything was established already, but, uh, like you said, you’re the Speaker now. You and Audra. Holy Order’s going away, sure, but the way its people act isn’t.

  “It always comes back to fucking, literally or symbolically. Someone’s always trying to fuck someone else. If we could change one thing, maybe that should be it.”

  “Yeah,” Felix said, looking at her. “Justine… the Mother Abbess, I mean… she said I couldn’t save everyone, so I’ll just pick something and start with that. It’s got to stop.”

  “Never again.”

  “Never again.” Some color coming back to him, he followed-up with: “What do we do?”

  “Assess, educate. Provide resources. Listen. Stop… glorying and rewarding abusers.”

  “Not kill them?”

  Felix sounded like he was joking, like he was playing into her reputation, but she wasn’t sure. So, she said, “Maybe.”

  “Did you know?” he asked.

  She cocked her head.

  “About Samuel Turov?”

  “What he did to you? I…”

  “No, did you know if he’d done stuff like that… with others?”

  Isla started to speak, but remembered, instead. She remembered the Exemplar of Innocence’s mouth pressed to hers, breathing in her cries. “Yes,” she said. “Everyone knew,” she said. And she said this, because it was true.

  Felix shook. He asked, “Even Justine?”

  “She knows everything,” Isla said, simply.

  “She does,” Felix agreed.

  Now, his hand was around the chain of that necklace he always wore. She’d heard it was some kind of stone that came from Justine, the White Worm of the Earth, but she’d never seen it.

  There was something in Felix’s eyes that triggered Isla’s need for self-preservation. Something white hot and sharp, like a bolt of lightning. Or maybe it was the way he was holding the chain, squeezing it as if it were someone’s neck. Or maybe it was the way his face had changed, like he’d suddenly figured something out, and that terrible knowledge had aged him years ahead.

  “I’m a bad woman,” Isla admitted.

  Felix let go of the chain.

  “I’m a bad woman whose been through bad things. One doesn’t excuse the other, I know. I deserve to die, too, if I’m being honest.” Isla took a deep breath, as the weight inside her was finally lifted. “Or be punished. I was part of the problem, but I don’t want to be anymore. I wanted to—” Fuck, this is so hard, she thought, “—tell you that, even though I know you know. Everyone knows.”

  “I don’t want to kill people,” Felix said. “I want to help them get better.”

  “Even the Samuel Turovs of the world?”

  He shook his head. “Not… yet. Maybe one day.” He furrowed his brow. “Isla, why’d you turn on Penance?”

  “I told you the Exemplars…”

  She stopped. He was confused. And he had every right to be. She hadn’t told him why. She hadn’t told him what she’d only just discovered a few hours ago about herself. She thought she had, but she hadn’t. That was her life, wasn’t it? Nothing but pretense.

  “They raped me,” she said, loudly.

  The soldiers and doctors in the torture chamber stopped what they were doing and stared at her. Pretending as if they’d heard nothing at all—good ol’ boys that they were—they went back to their work. They’d behave extra well while they were still here.

  “And I got fucked up. And I forgot. And I hated myself. And everyone. And I still do. And I thought the only way to make things better was to tear everything to pieces. Joy found me in Rime and she took advantage of me, too.” She paused, wiped a tear from her eye. “Then I came here and Edgar used me. I always get used. And I always make myself useful enough that they give me… just enough of what I want to shut me up.”

  Felix took her hand in his and asked, “Will you get better?”

  Isla didn’t know how to answer, so she didn’t. Get better? Why should she have to get better when it was… She hit the brakes on that train of thought. It was one she’d ridden too often. She knew its time of departure and inevitable destination. He wasn’t attacking her. And he wasn’t saying anything she hadn’t already admitted to. Even then, could she get better? Should she get better? Did she deserve to get better? Fuck yeah, she did, and fuck everyone who thought she didn’t. Then again, how old were those memories? Then again…. Then again. That’d be what they put on her tombstone.

  Never again.

  Then again…

  Isla squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her teeth. She was possessed by others’ possession. She wanted an exorcism, when she knew what she really needed was therapy.

  “It’s almost time for the execution,” she said.

  CHAPTER LI

  Felix went back to his room an hour before the execution, sat at his desk, took out a quill and piece of parchment, and by the light of dawn, began writing. He did it thoughtlessly, without feeling. When he was finished, he was as surprised at what he’d written as anyone would be who would soon read it. And it read:

  Never Again

  There is a crime committed every day, every minute, that everyone is capable of stopping. It has happened to someone we know, whether we know it or not. The perpetrators are usually people we have met before. People we trust. Sometimes, they are people we love.

  Sexual abuse has to stop. It has gone on for far too long, because we have let it. We turn a blind eye. We silence voices. We make excuses. We cower in fear, afraid of what would happen if we were to speak up. We set the example for generations to come.

  Sex is beautiful. It is powerful. Whether it is bringing people together for the rest of their lives, or simply for the night, sex is something to be enjoyed by those involved. Sex is not currency. Sex is not control. Sex is not something you can have with anyone, simply because you want to.

  Thos
e who have been abused, I understand, because I, the Speaker of God, have been abused, too. I was raped repeatedly by Samuel Turov, Exemplar of Innocence, years ago. I am not above pain and agony, and hardship. I am like you as much as you are like me. I want to hear you all. I want to help you all.

  This is a New World we live in, under the watchful eye of God. Rapists will no longer be able to hide, nor will they be promoted. It does not matter if you have no coin to your name, or if you are a dedicated Disciple. You will not wait until Heaven to be judged for your sins, for Heaven is already here, in us all, and no matter how heavy your purses are, no matter how silver your corrupting tongue, Its gates will not open.

  Our bodies are our own. They belong to no one.

  Felix read through it once more, set the quill down. He stared at the line that called out Samuel Turov and his crimes. Starting to crumple the paper, afraid of what’d happen if he released that information, he stopped himself, instead, and laid the letter out in the sun to dry. It wasn’t written in stone, but it was close enough.

  He didn’t know how to dress for an execution, so he put on a robe and left it at that. Mackenzie had taught him tips and tricks when it came to makeup, so he sat down at his vanity and painted his face until he looked as if he hadn’t stared Death in the face. He had, of course, and he wondered if he would again in the next thirty minutes. It’d been strange seeing Death. He hadn’t been afraid of Her, and he seldom thought of Her since. Unsurprising, really, since Death had never been far from anyone’s thoughts these days. More a confirmation that they weren’t crazy. That there was an end, even for things like Joy.

  He was glad the witch was dead. He wasn’t happy about what’d been done to kill her. Felix still hadn’t talked to Audra, or King Edgar. For a moment, he wondered how the Disciples would spin the news of the celebration being crashed and tens of dignitaries being killed during it, but then he remembered that, in God, anything was possible, and everything was excusable. It wouldn’t be lies they told, but alternative facts.

  Felix took a drink of water. He wandered over to the small herb garden on the sill and snapped off a bit of Reprieve. Things were different now, he thought as he chewed and swallowed the plant. He felt different now; actually different. Older, kind of. More serious. He could still remember where he’d gone wrong, that moment when he’d followed Valac into the dark. It should’ve never happened. He should’ve never been that stupid. Never again.

  Finishing off the water, he wiped his mouth and left his room. The gathering area between his room and Justine’s was empty, but in shambles. First, he’d come through with Isla a few hours ago, the both of them terrified messes. Then, at some point while they’d been in the torture chamber, Justine must’ve made it back. She’d been the one to knock over the couches, tear the pillows to pieces. There were feathers everywhere. And on the doorknob to her room, dried slime.

  I don’t want to do this with you, he thought, going to the door. Not right now, anyway.

  “Felix?” Justine croaked from behind the door.

  He went to open it, but the sight of the slime and the likelihood it was locked stopped him.

  “Oh… Felix.” A thump. “Are you… okay? I didn’t realize what was happening—”

  “I’m fine,” he snapped.

  He heard water, or in her case, liquid spilling onto the floor. “I won’t be able to attend—”

  “I know.”

  “They were your friends—”

  “Not really.”

  It sounded as if Justine were drawing nearer to the door. “It’s okay to be sad—”

  He turned away. “I have to go.”

  “I’ll be here… if you want to talk.”

  Felix took the White Worm’s sealing stone out from underneath his robes, placed it over them for everyone to see, and left without saying goodbye.

  The execution was being held in the open courtyard next to where Gemma had been imprisoned. As Felix arrived, this time in daylight, with his usual guard of soldiers and living statues, he couldn’t figure out why they’d chosen here of all places. But then he noticed the courtyard had undergone some construction, or rather, deconstruction. The far wall that let out to a view of Eldrus; in particular, the lanes below that led to Ghostgrave, had been removed, and the ground around it, dug out. At the farthest edge of the edge, four ten-foot stakes had been driven. King Edgar wanted the entire city to see the prisoners killed, to have their traitorous blood run down the sides of the keep, as a reminder of what would happen to those who would try and challenge God.

  Really, though, if the view was for anyone, it was for God. It was a clear shot from here to Kistvaen, and the Vermillion God, hunched over the volcano on Its haunches, looked enthralled. Each of Its many tentacles were stabbed into the countryside, giving It the appearance of an Arachne. Copious amounts of fog oozed from Its pores, dousing the South in a nightmarish mist behind which shadows played. Enthralled, yeah, that’s how Felix thought It looked, but now… He wasn’t so sure. It almost looked like It was angry. Like… It was in pain. Like how he used to get when he was little when the doctors tried to give him a shot. All condensed and heavy, and scared. It looked like It was biting Its tongues, because It was too proud, like he’d been too proud, to ask for help.

  Coming into the courtyard, Felix noticed there weren’t many people in attendance. Forty, at most. He didn’t pay them any attention. He didn’t even bother making eye contact. Anyone that was still here after last night’s “celebration” were sick infants—err, no, sycophants. Edgar could take a shit in their cereal, and still they’d ask for seconds.

  He made his way to the raised stage at the back of the courtyard. Edgar and Lotus were there. Commander Millicent, too; she’d been saving a seat for him. He hated all of them right now. Edgar for using him to carry out his witch-trap. Commander Millicent for not protecting him from Valac. Lotus for… Well, there wasn’t one reason specifically to hate her, but he had plenty to choose from.

  Commander Millicent stood and bowed. “Your Holiness,” she said, looking at him as if he were a wounded animal.

  Lotus, who’d been mysteriously absent lately, winked at him. She, too, stood and bowed.

  King Edgar was quick to his feet. He planted a hand on Felix’s shoulders and whispered, “Just one more matter of business to attend to. How are you?”

  Felix didn’t bother answering, because it was a stupid question to begin with.

  “I am sorry. Audra told me there were… complications.”

  “Where is she?”

  “She’s resting. Her mind is adjusting to God’s Word. She sends her best.”

  Felix went to sit down, then said, “How’d you know Death would come?”

  Edgar slipped a vein into his mouth. “We didn’t. We were just going to kill her when the Void was destroyed. We got lucky.”

  He sat, pressed his hand to his stomach. “Not everyone was so lucky.”

  “You were not bait,” Edgar said, sitting. “Joy was a powerful witch. It could have gone much, much worse.” He sucked on the vein a bit. “Valac’s dead.”

  Felix had assumed the freak was, but it was a relief to be sure. He didn’t bother asking Edgar why he hadn’t tried to stop Valac from taking Felix into that room.

  “We got lucky,” Edgar repeated. “Yes, we did.”

  “Isla and I know what our first order of business will be.”

  Edgar cocked his head, smiled his vermillion-stained teeth. “Good,” he said. “As God wills.”

  Felix turned to Commander Millicent.

  Commander Millicent turned to him.

  “Are you okay with this? The alliance?”

  “I am as you command, your Holiness,” she said.

  Felix chewed on the inside of his mouth. “I want to know everything from now on. These people wouldn’t have to die today if I had known more.”

  “You are in charge now, your Holiness,” she said.

  “I always was…”

 
She stared at him.

  “Are you… human?”

  Commander Millicent furrowed her brow. She shifted in her chair, the pearlescent plate making squelching noises she did so. That was her answer.

  From opposite him, Lotus: “Who did you decide to pardon?”

  Felix, staring at the stakes, said, “No one.”

  “Nice,” Lotus said, leaning back in her chair. “Very nice.”

  Edgar let another ten minutes pass, until the sun was good and high in the sky and the streets below packed. He came to his feet, walked to the end of the stage, and bellowed, “With any growth comes weeds. Undoubtedly, you have heard of the events that transpired last night. A demon came to Ghostgrave and tested the very best of us. Those that succumbed to her temptations were struck down by God, while those that resisted were not.”

  There’s no way the people in the city can actually hear him, Felix thought. Unless they’re not meant to hear. Just to see.

  “The Holy Order of Penance and the Disciples of the Deep are one and the same. But just as the demon was a weed that needed to be picked from the garden of the Disciples’ achievements, so, too, are the Marrow Cabal and the Compellers. For God’s kingdom to prosper, these groups and the chaos they sow cannot be allowed. I encourage discourse and even disagreement, but I cannot tolerate… senseless violence.”

  Felix and Lotus both laughed.

  “Bring out the prisoners!” Edgar shouted, sitting down.

  Out of Ghostgrave, Hex and Sloane came, ten guards at their backs. The guards didn’t have swords, though. They had something else. Something long and wooden with metal pieces fixed to them. Pipes, in a way, and…