The Bone Shard Daughter

by Andrea Stewart

  Gio waited for me near the entrance, his cloak wrapped around his shoulders, his beard nearly hidden in it, a leather bag at his side. He looked like only one dark eye and a scar. “Good luck,” he told me.

  “I don’t need luck,” I said with a dismissive wave. “I need skill.”

  “Good skill doesn’t have quite the same ring,” Gio said. “And it’s not something I can wish upon you.”

  I stopped and waited as he applied putty to my face to hide the shape of my nose. “This rebellion. You’re playing a game with long odds,” I said. “Are you planning on winning, or are you only planning on making your opponent miserable before you reach the end?”

  “I only play to win.” Gio’s gaze focused on the bridge of my nose, his thumb pressing near my eye. “And we will win. The Emperor isolates himself. He is dying and no one really knows his daughter. What do you think will happen when he dies? What will happen to all the constructs spread across the islands? They will no longer have any direction. And the rebellion will be there to pick up the pieces.”

  “But will you remake what’s broken?”

  “We will build something new. No more Tithing Festivals, no more Emperor. Free trade and movement between the islands,” Gio said. “No governors, but a Council made up of representatives from all the known islands.” He pulled out a couple of jars, looked at my face, mixed some colors from them and then dabbed them on my nose.

  “And what happens to you when all this is done?”

  “I build a farm somewhere, live out the rest of my days. I don’t want to be Emperor if that’s what you’re wondering. I’m just the midwife for something new.”

  His words sounded practiced, like he’d said them a thousand times. I knew a liar when I met one. I recognized one each time I saw my own reflection. And now, looking into Gio’s remaining eye, I felt as though I looked upon the glassy surface of a lake on a windless day.

  He met my gaze. “What does it matter to you? You’re a smuggler. You’re not invested in this society. You live outside it.”

  He was redirecting my question, trying to put me on the defensive. I knew these tricks. “And how will we choose this Council, Gio? All these people who hate the Empire, who hate everyone who has been involved in it – how do we get everyone to join into a common purpose? Will you be the one to heal these wounds? How will you do that from your quiet farm? The Sukais once thought they would heal the wounds left by the Alanga.”

  He straightened my leather jerkin and checked his work. He nodded, evidently satisfied. “Here.” He drew a straw hat from the bag at his side and handed it to me. He apparently thought a little farther ahead than I did. “You do what you said you would. I can tell you what I will do, I can make pretty speeches, but it’s the doing that counts. Go.”

  The best of intentions could be subverted by greed. And beneath the practiced speeches, Gio was the same as most men I’d ever known. He had a wanting heart. They all did. I just didn’t know what he wanted. But I went. This wasn’t my fight. I wasn’t one of them, swallowing their lies the way a drowning sailor swallowed seawater.

  Emahla, for you. I would drink a thousand lies just to see your face again.

  I used the map to trace my way through the trees and toward the road, looking for the landmarks I’d seen on my way in. Even so, everything appeared different than it had a few days before. A jaguar yowled somewhere in the forest, making me jump. When I scratched an itch at my forehead, my hand came away damp with sweat. Much as I hated to admit it, Mephi was right.

  Alone was bad.

  But I made it to the road and to the city before noon. Children scampered across the streets, searching for food in the kitchen scraps thrown from windows the night before. They were ragged and desperate as hungry rats. A few of them eyed me, as though they might find something worth taking on my person if only they all attacked me at once. Back home on our small island, we hadn’t had cities large enough for gutter children. Any unwanted babes were quickly fostered by families who desired children.

  I’d seen them huddled in alleys before, but I didn’t think it was a sight I could ever become accustomed to. Gio helped the shard-sick. Would Gio do something for the orphans, too? I dropped a few coins onto the street for them and increased my pace. I was more afraid of hurting them than the other way around.

  I heard a scrape behind me – an orphan stooping to gather coins? – and remembered Ranami’s words. When I glanced over my shoulder, I saw only the cobblestones of the street. If someone had been there, they’d moved quickly. I tightened my grip around my staff and felt the thrum in my bones. I did not need to fear, even if Mephi was not with me. The woman Gio had sent had walked this same path, but she hadn’t had the strength I did.

  Still, I’d not lived so long as a smuggler by denying my instincts. I ducked onto a side street, found a crowd of fishermen heading to the market from the docks and slipped into their midst.

  “At least we have boats,” a woman said to the man next to her. “If it happens here, we’ll have the chance to escape.”

  It took me a moment to realize they were talking about Deerhead.

  “Do you think that matters?” the man replied. “You could be crushed in your bed, or not get your boat unmoored in time. I wish we knew why it happened. How could a mining accident sink an entire island?”

  The smell of them reminded me of my father, and the one next to me even looked to have some Poyer blood. He was shorter and ruddier than his fellows, and just the feel of him at my side reminded me of my father. I almost expected him to start muttering random facts about fish or sails or seawater. My father had been born outside the reach of the Empire, up in the mountains of the Poyer isles. He’d not had a shard taken from him. But the Endless Sea called to him when the Poyer isles had ventured close to the Empire, and he liked to say that when he met my mother, he knew he’d never go back to the mountains. The man shifted away from me, breaking the illusion.

  I’d have to double back to the drinking hall.

  I should have hurried but I took my time, relishing being out in the open again, away from the dark corridors of the Shardless hideout. An ocean breeze tickled my scalp; the calls of seabirds sounded in the distance. Mephi, had he been here, would have been weaving between my feet, begging me to buy him some treat he could smell on the wind. I stopped in a couple of places to take a look behind me. If someone had followed me, they were gone.

  Finally, I wound my way back to the drinking hall. It was nestled into the cobblestones, a set of steps leading to a narrow door. Water dripped onto the stoop from the floor above. As Gio had promised, the air wafting from the door smelled strongly of salt, oil, and the sharp scent of cooked squid. I placed my hand on the door and then something prompted me to look to my left.

  A construct sat on the street, watching me.

  I’d seen spy constructs before – small things with watchful eyes and an ability to climb. This one looked to be made of mouse and bird pieces with little claws that scratched the stone as it scampered away.

  The putty disguising my nose was still in place, though that didn’t stop me from checking again. I ducked into the drinking hall before I could second-guess myself. The man at the counter barely glanced at me as I ordered a plate of the fried squid. I surveyed the tables. There were three corners with tables in them. Two of them had single occupants. Both were middle-aged men in uniforms.

  I couldn’t think of enough curses to attach to Gio’s name.

  As I waited, I studied each of the men. Both were full-blooded Empirean men, their straight black hair streaked with gray. As I watched, they both lifted their mugs to their lips, nearly at the same time. Not helpful. I searched for other details. The uniform of the one on the left was slightly rumpled, his boots scuffed. The one on the right looked like he’d gotten a little more sun.

  “Here you are.” The man at the counter handed me a plate piled high with battered and fried squid. I checked the price and handed over some coins.
>
  I had to choose a seat unless I wanted to stand out.

  I adjusted the hat Gio had given me, the brim scratching my forehead. It bought me only a little time. What did I know? Our informant knew the best way to the governor’s rooms. He was sympathetic to the cause. If the man on the right had gotten more sun, he probably spent more time outdoors. A wall guard then? Or the doors? The rumpled uniform and the scuffed boots of the man on the left spoke of less wealth, more struggling.

  If I were wrong, I might be making a fatal mistake. Not for me – I could fight my way out of this – but for all the Shardless back in their cavern. I took a deep breath, walked to the corner and sat at the table of the man on the left. He glanced at me over his mug and frowned. “The fish were jumpy today,” I said, as though that explained anything.

  His brow furrowed along familiar lines; he didn’t seem the friendly type. The plate of squid no longer smelled appetizing.

  And then he reached over and took a piece of squid. “I told you before, you’re using garbage for bait. How’s your sister?”

  I know what you’re here for, his feigned familiarity said.

  Relief weakened my spine and I slumped a little in my chair. I knew this sort of dance. So I played along. “She barely speaks to me,” I said. “How would I know? Have you seen her lately?”

  “Fickle woman,” the guard said. “You know how I feel about her. Asked her to have a drink with me in this very spot. She said she would, but never showed.”

  My chest tightened, but I grabbed a few pieces of squid to hide anything that might be plain on my face. The spy Gio had sent had never even arrived. I didn’t dare look across the room to see if the other guard was watching us, though I did check the ceiling beams for spy constructs as I tipped the squid into my mouth. Nothing.

  We made small talk for longer than I would have liked, but I supposed we had to keep up the proper appearances. Finally, he pulled a piece of folded parchment from his pocket. “I thought you’d be needing this from last time we talked. As promised – my mother’s bait recipe. It never fails. You’ll have fish jumping into your ship tomorrow morning.”

  “My thanks,” I said, taking it and sliding it into my purse. I wasn’t fool enough to look at it now.

  “Just tell your sister I’d still like to have that drink with her if you see her again.”

  I rose. “I will.” And I made for the door. The air outside felt fresher and I filled my lungs with it. I could manage as a smuggler when it was only my life on the line. Always cared more than I should have.

  I’d taken two steps when something seized me by the arm. Before I could react, it dragged me out of the stairwell and into the alley next to the hall. My knees cracked against the stone; my head whipped to the side. It took me a moment to register – it was not a human hand.

  Claws dug into my arm, and the pain told me they’d pierced skin.

  Glimpses filtered through my rattled mind: yellowed teeth, yellowed eyes, patchy dark fur. A whiff of musky animal scent. A low, guttural growl. A construct.

  I reached for the thrum in my bones, the strength to throw the creature off of me. The will to make the ground shake. My heartbeat roared in my ears, but my bones stayed silent.

  Nothing.

  I was alone.

  31

  Lin

  Imperial Island

  I balanced on the palace roof, staring down into the courtyard and wishing I could see through the paving stones. Ilith’s lair lay somewhere beneath the very bowels of the palace. It had taken me a fair bit of time to puzzle things out. I’d gone to the courtyard first, watching the little spy constructs, one after another, leap into the little hole beneath the boulder. I went to that boulder, stared into the hole, listened at it, even shone a lamp down it at night when I could be sure no one watched me. Each of these exercises was fruitless. I couldn’t shrink myself to follow the spy constructs to their master. And Father wouldn’t let Ilith be completely inaccessible. There were times he disappeared, and even Bayan didn’t seem to know where he was. If I found out where he went during these times, I would find Ilith’s lair, I was certain of it.

  So I’d sent out my own little spy.

  It took five days to find out which door he went to, and another few days to find out which key he used in it. A few days after that, and I had the key in hand, and then heavy in my sash pocket. It was an ugly iron thing. I’d never have paired it with the cloud juniper door.

  But my construct couldn’t lie.

  I made my way around the courtyard toward the palace gates. Somewhere below me was Bayan’s room. I still wasn’t sure if he was dead or alive, and Father had said nothing. Each time I ran into Father in the halls, I wondered if I was next, if he’d drag me away and melt my flesh. The sooner I finished rewriting the constructs, the better. I bit my lip as I crept forward. The roofs were slippery, as they seemed to always be during the wet season. The way back, when I was tired, would be treacherous.

  But I dropped into the city street outside without incident. Businesses were winding down, the people in the streets hurrying about, eager to get home. No one paid me any mind. I made my way to Numeen’s workshop as quickly as I could.

  His shop was still open when I got there, and he was tending to a customer, writing down their order. Propriety bade me wait, but I had the key to Ilith’s lair and little time left. “I need a key,” I blurted out. The woman in front of me eyed me but continued her recitation of requirements.

  “I’m sorry, can you come back tomorrow? I need to take this order,” Numeen said to her.

  She frowned and left the shop in a huff.

  “This key,” I said, pulling it out of my sash pocket. “Can you make a copy now, while I wait? How long will it take?”

  He studied my face for a long moment until I felt as pinned beneath his gaze as I did my father’s. Just as I felt the heat rising to my face, he relented and plucked the key from my grasp. “I could, but how much time do you have? This shouldn’t take long. The key itself is quite simple.”

  “Not much time. Maybe a little longer than usual.”

  “I can do it.” He turned around and gathered his tools.

  The last time I’d seen him, I’d dashed from his house. I wasn’t sure what to say about it. I couldn’t apologize for who I was or what I had to do. They’d seen me practicing bone shard magic. They’d realized who I was. But Father had said nothing to me. He hadn’t even looked at me differently. Whatever they’d said to one another after I’d left, they’d kept my secrets. So I tried something else instead. “Thank you,” I said as Numeen pulled a mold from one of his drawers, “for dinner, for the time I spent with your family. It’s not like that for me.” I wasn’t sure how to explain. Dinner with my family was like shutting myself in the palace icebox. Dinner at Numeen’s home was the hearth of a fire on a rainy day.

  He gave me a long, inscrutable look. “You frightened them.”

  I wanted to melt, to sink into the floor. “I didn’t have much choice.”

  He turned his broad back to me. The back of his scalp folded as he pressed the key into the mold, like dough in the midst of kneading. “I know. It had to be done.” He worked in silence, and I waited, thinking about the mural of silent Alanga in the palace entrance hall, a reminder of what the Sukais had done to their enemies. I couldn’t imagine anymore what Father might do if he caught me. I’d thought before he would throw me out – and now, having moved among the citizens, having been to Numeen’s home for dinner, that prospect didn’t seem so frightening. But after seeing what had happened to Bayan, I wasn’t sure if that would be my sole punishment.

  Whatever dark experiments my father worked on in the depths of the palace, I might find myself subject to them. The memory machine. I wondered if I’d been subject to them already.

  Numeen worked the bellows, sparks flying from the fire like bright motes of dust. He poured the white-hot metal into the mold. He waited as it cooled, then removed the fresh key with a pair
of tongs. The sizzle as it hit the water in his bucket nearly obscured his next words. Steam rose from his feet, making him look like a demon summoned to do someone’s bidding. “Did you find my bone shard?”

  I’d known it was coming, yet there was a part of me that always hoped he’d forgotten. “I haven’t.” The words felt thick and heavy on my tongue. I swallowed past the hollow in my chest.

  Numeen took the key between his fingers, examining it, comparing it to the original. “Try not to take my family’s fear to heart. Your father says he keeps us all safe, and maybe it takes an unkind person to keep us all safe. But my mother died when I was just a boy, drained by a construct under your father’s command. My cousin too died when he was still a young man. Some constructs burn their fuel faster than others. All of us –” He set the original key on the counter and touched the scar on his scalp. “ –we wonder when it will happen to us. If it will happen to us. If we will leave behind our families, our spouses, our children.

  “Be better than him please, when you are Emperor.” He slid the new key next to the old one. “Could be a bit rough, but if you shift it a little as you turn, the tumblers should fall into place. Best I can do on such short notice.”

  I took both keys and tucked them into my sash. I had to leave, had to get back to the palace before my father returned to his room. But my feet felt rooted to the stone floor of Numeen’s workshop. Father spoke often of what was necessary, what was needful. Everything he did he labeled as needful.

  I was doing it too. I’d used a shard to power the command I’d placed in Uphilia. I’d left Numeen’s shard in Bayan’s keeping. I’d failed to do anything to help Bayan when he’d needed it the most. I hadn’t had a choice – or I’d thought I hadn’t. Numeen was risking everything to help me, including his family. And I hadn’t been willing to take Numeen’s shard from Bayan and risk discovery.

  Perhaps it wasn’t Bayan who was so like Father, but me.

  “I was afraid,” I blurted out before I could stop myself. “Your shard. It’s in the keeping of my father’s foster-son. If he found I’d taken it, he could tell my father.”