The Bone Witch

by Rin Chupeco

  When I first met him, he was in a horrible mood. Another round of Deathseekers from the kingdoms had been dispatched to hunt for the still-elusive savul, and he was opposed to the idea.

  There were already other asha in the room when I entered, trying to steer him away from the gravity of the discussion. Other guests were also present, all close friends of Councilor Ludvig and used to his ways.

  “Do the kings today have nothing but empty space between their ears?” he demanded, ignoring my entrance. “Have they done nothing but be coddled by their mothers for the first thirty years of their lives? To take out most of the Deathseekers in the kingdoms is tantamount to suicide. They are inviting open conquest of their own kingdoms. If I were a jackanape with a large enough force and a command of the runes, I could conquer Tresea in three days before any word could reach the bulk of your men, Vorkon! A standing army will not last long when there is magic involved.”

  “We are at peacetime, my lord councilor,” one of his friends pointed out. “And there are no standing enmities among the kingdoms. Even your Istera and Tresea have a treaty, and historically, you have always been enemies.”

  “And you are an idiot for letting peacetime lull you into a false sense of security,” Councilor Ludvig raged at him. “Can you not see that there is no need for treaties to one who might be biding their time?”

  “Now you’re being paranoid, Ludvig,” the first diplomat to the Yadosha city-states rejoined good-humoredly. “No one can control the daeva. That is the point. Not even the Dark asha can do so, as Lady Tea can attest to. None of the Faceless have been strong enough to do more than—”

  “And what enemy would choose to show their strength? It is not enough to fight off attacks as they happen—it is important to predict how and when they occur to prevent them from happening to begin with!”

  “My apologies,” Vorkon, the Councilor to Tresea, said to us in a near whisper. “He hasn’t always been this angry. He was the most brilliant man I’d ever met as a young man, despite our kingdoms’ animosity. Quite a mind.”

  “Now, now, Councilor,” a pretty, brown-haired asha named Bryndis interjected. “We shouldn’t be talking about such serious things at a party. Come, why don’t you tell us about the many achievements you have had? It is not every day that we have as our guest of honor one who has forged such a successful path for the kingdom of Istera! King Rendorvik must owe a lot to you!”

  “If only his son had his father’s guts,” Councilor Ludvig snorted, unswayed.

  “Councilor Ludvig! Such a thing to say about your king!”

  “He’ll live. I have said worse things to his face.”

  “Oh, let’s not talk about such worrying things,” Caddie, one of the other asha, begged. “It all sounds so frightening to me!”

  The conversation drifted to other matters, and soon the other politicians began lecturing the asha on the history of their countries. Our history lessons had included such matters, but we nodded our heads like we have never heard them before.

  Councilor Ludvig leaned back while the others talked, scowling into his tea. The others were occupied, so I angled closer to him. “What makes you think that some of the kingdoms could be invaded in the near future?” I asked.

  He started—I don’t think he remembered I was even in the room. He eyed me suspiciously at first, but my sincerity must have shown on my face.

  “Peacetime does not excuse the reality that there are numerous factions there out for blood. For as long as the problem of the daeva exist, the Faceless will use them to breed fear and terror among the people.”

  “What should the kings do instead?”

  “Send all available spies and scouts out to gather intelligence as to the daeva’s whereabouts first. Once located, gather all Dark asha—well, you and Lady Mykaela—add a few more asha and Deathseekers for additional firepower, and strike out. To have every able Deathseeker scouring the lands hoping to stumble into a savul by accident is a waste of time and ability. It doesn’t matter that the people clamor for a show of force. Pomp and fanfare for so few results will not help defend a kingdom, only expose its weaknesses to the unseen enemy.”

  “That sounds logical, but why won’t they listen to you?”

  The old man snorted again. “Because they think they know better. Kings nowadays play more to the politics than to any real strategies. Kion is more welcoming when it comes to Dark asha like you, my dear, but other kingdoms aren’t as open-minded. Bone witches passing through their territories does not make kings popular. Deathseekers guarding their borders satisfies their need for security, however false it may be.”

  I felt disheartened. I had nurtured the foolish thought that being an official asha meant that people would be more inclined to look favorably on me, even if Lady Mykaela’s reception had been anything but.

  “Don’t worry your pretty head over it, my dear,” the old man said kindly. “You Dark asha have my respect and my trust, and I wish that counted as much as it used to. Tell me more about your lessons. How many runes of the Dark have they taught you?”

  Councilor Ludvig started coming more often to the cha-khana after that. Despite my busy workload, I always did my best to spend at least an hour with him. Because he usually only asked for me, our meetings were less of a party and more like my lessons. He instructed me on politics, geography, and military history and taught me more about strategy than any instructor I had.

  “But why can’t you flush out all the other Faceless?” I asked him at one time. “If you know where their strongholds are, shouldn’t it be only a matter of time?”

  “It’s not as easy as that,” Councilor Ludvig said. “It’s easy to imagine them concentrated within one small area instead of being dispersed over a population of people who have little idea of whom they are truly fraternizing with. They do not build their defenses with high walls and fortifications, Tea. Even Druj conceals his fortress well in his mountains, and it would be difficult to lay siege. As for Aenah and Usij, they build their defenses with a population of innocents for a shield, which is a considerably more difficult hurdle to overcome. It took us twenty years to cobble together a comprehensive report to capture Aenah’s men, and still that witch escapes us! I have always advocated for King Rendorvik to train more spies. He acquiesced occasionally, though he always considered it a dishonorable trade. Dishonorable!” Councilor Ludvig snorted. “There is no dishonor to winning a war!”

  • • •

  Once or twice a month, the Heartforger’s assistant would ask for my presence at the Snow Pyre. A Dark asha’s heartsglass was in high demand, and many ingredients could be gleaned from its depths. The old Heartforger himself, the boy said, was frequently away on trips; his services were constantly sought after even outside of Kion.

  I was willing to provide what his assistant needed, but I also felt awkward around him. Now that I knew his true identity, I didn’t know what name to refer him by. I could no longer call him by his royal honorific, so should I call him Lord Khalad instead? Or Junior, as the Heartforger had called him?

  “Khalad would do,” he said calmly. “The forger calls me Junior as a means to distance myself from the royal house, but sometimes I think I need to remember who I was to have an idea of who I should be.”

  “How did you…?”

  Khalad smiled, nodded at my heartsglass. “You asha do not have the monopoly on reading them.”

  “But not to that degree of specificity.”

  “You mean you can’t do that?” He sounded surprised. “My master said I was unusually perceptive, but I always assumed it wasn’t uncommon. Take a deep breath.”

  He touched my heartsglass and I felt a quick twinge, like someone had pricked me with a tiny needle made from ice.

  —the gaping mouth grinned malice at me; from within the depths of those empty eye sockets, something glinted. The skeleton gave me no time to re
cover but lunged—

  When he took his hand away, I saw a wispy thread of smoke winding around his knuckles, disappearing into his own heartsglass when he pressed his fingers against it.

  I was shaking. For a moment, it felt real, like I was confronting the skeleton all over again.

  “Thank you. True fear is harder to find than you might think,” he said conversationally, patting my hand. “I visit the army for most of that.” He’d pulled a lot of memories from me these last few months—memories of seeing my brother rise up from the grave, memories of Lady Mykaela summoning the taurvi, memories of meeting the oracle.

  “You’ve never asked me about them.”

  “About what?”

  “About the skeleton? Or my brother or the taurvi? You see my memories as well as I can every time you take them out.”

  “I do, but your memories are only important to me in forging hearts. Their importance to you is your own business and no one else’s. I do not ask, and I share them with no one else.” He flexed his fingers. “I’ll need one more, and then that’s enough for today.”

  “You impose limitations on how many you can draw from me, but you don’t do the same for yourself.”

  He smiled sheepishly. “Too many hearts, not enough memories. Master says I overexert myself, but maybe it’s for the better. I have something of a temper. This will only take a—”

  From inside his hood, the boy’s face hardened. “Your kind killed my mother,” he snapped. He turned and fled back into the confines of the crowd but not before his heavy cloak shifted and I saw his—

  Khalad stopped. He leaned back.

  “Well,” he said.

  “Is something wrong?” I asked nervously.

  “Nothing’s wrong.” He rose and bowed to me. “I think I have all that I need. Thank you again, Lady Tea.”

  It was only after he left that I realized he had not taken my memories of the boy in the hooded cloak.

  “Everyone is believed to have two faces—one they show to the public and one they wear in private. The first face is their shaxsiat, or their honor. The second face is their ehteram, their dignity. It is a concept practiced more commonly in Odalia but also adopted by the asha-ka in Ankyo. It is important for a person to interact with others in such a way as to enhance their shaxsiat while still maintaining their ehteram—to increase others’ estimation of them while remaining true to one’s self. It is harder than it sounds. Many actions that elevate people’s opinion of you are not necessarily what you truly wish to do. It is a matter of balancing both faces so you can do what is expected of you and at the same time pursue your personal goals.”

  “I did not fare very well with my shaxsiat, then,” I said, bitter. Our meal that night was composed of Odalian delicacies: fried rice soaked in saffron and caramel, called tahdig; kabab koobideh, flavored with turmeric and set on sticks hewn from more driftwood; and doogh, a flavored, sour yogurt. I had not seen her prepare the meals, did not think she was capable of cooking them in such a short time.

  “You considered your dignity to be greater than what the royal courts demanded of you, and this imbalance is the reason why they cast you out of Drycht. In the same way, I considered my dignity to be more important than the rules and restrictions that clog the traditions of the Willows, and that is why I find myself in the Sea of Skulls, foraging for bones. But would you do it again, given the chance? Would you sacrifice your shaxsiat to retain your ehteram?”

  “Yes,” I said without hesitation.

  She smiled at me. “Then we are not so different after all.”

  21

  My asha sister Altaecia was a lot like my sister Rose. She was round and quiet and keen on gardening. She was also Ankyo’s foremost expert on herbs and medicine and was a consultant to many apothecaries operating in Ankyo. She made the best dizi I had ever tasted, and her ghormeh sabzi could silence even Polaire. Unsurprisingly, her ingredients were always fresh, and she was in the know with most of the vendors in the marketplace, so that her roasted lamb, seasoned and cooked for three hours to perfection, went unbelievably well with her sautéd kale, chickpeas, and parsley stew, along with anything else she chose to cook.

  Every other week, I would accompany her on what was a typical morning for my sister-asha. Most people visit the marketplace at dawn to find the choicest seafood and cuts of meat, but much of the preparations took place long before the sun rose. Altaecia was hard on vendors who sold rotten food, and it was an easy way to go out of business. Meek and mild mannered for the most part, she changed into a no-nonsense, uncompromising taskmaster when it came to food standards.

  We didn’t always visit the Ankyon market. When she brought me to a tall, white building at the edge of the city for the first time, the smell of dirty linen assailed my nose the moment we entered. People dressed in gray frocks rushed past us, carrying an armful of sheets or complicated-looking metal instruments. Patients lay on pallets on the floor, as many as a dozen in every room we passed.

  “There is one skill people often overlook in an asha,” she said as she stooped over an old man swaddled in blankets, fast asleep. “And that is the precision by which we can perceive color. Tell me the color of his heartsglass.”

  “Green.”

  “No. It is octarine.”

  “But isn’t octarine just another shade of green?”

  “And therein lies all the difference. Ailments give very specific tints, Tea. Green only tells me that the illness is a physical one. Hues, heart rhythms, brightness—they show me the specifics of a disease. I will teach you how to observe and keep track of these differences. You there, Cecely!” She snapped at a woman built like a broomstick. “Didn’t I tell you to change the patients’ bedsheets every day?”

  “But, Lady Altaecia, Mistress Mal made it clear that we could only—”

  “I don’t care what that khar has made clear!” Althy raged, a veiled tigress. “Tell her that Lady Altaecia demands clean sheets and linen for every patient, and if that happens to cut into her profit, then so be it! Perhaps she needs to be reminded one more time of the cow?”

  The woman paled. “I will see to it, Lady Altaecia.”

  Many also came to Althy for ailments that normal physicians and apothecaries could not heal, and they were as complex as they were varied. She taught me to prepare ointments and medicine. I pounded pescilla seeds and groundroot for smallworm antidotes or mixed dragon fruit pulp and stingberry juice for high fevers. The variations among the heartsglass colors were difficult to distinguish, and I made many mistakes. But each day I improved.

  Two months after we began, Althy regretfully informed me in the middle of our cooking lesson that she would be leaving. We were preparing chicken fesenjan with yellow rice, which also happened to be Polaire’s favorite meal. As was common during these lessons, Altaecia would grill me about the kinds of herbs we used. “You must learn to make this by the end of the day,” she explained, “for I will have very little time to teach you when the week is out. Now, do you remember what nuts we top the stew with?”

  “Ground walnuts,” I replied, “paired with pomegranate sauce. What do you mean, ‘you have very little time’?”

  “I will be returning to my duties as Princess Inessa’s bodyguard in five days’ time, and so ends my stay in the Willows. What other sicknesses do walnuts treat?”

  “Canker sores and bright fever. Unless the patient is allergic to nuts, which means we substitute saffron and twisted barley. You’re to be Princess Inessa’s bodyguard?” It was hard to imagine her as anyone’s bodyguard, with her broad face and glasses and the circle motifs in her hua that only emphasized her roundness. It also occurred to me that I have never once seen her fight.

  Althy smiled at me. “I have always been her bodyguard; I merely asked for leave to care for Mykkie and oversee your education. I will still be in the city. The castle is a stone’s throw away, and t
he princess has always been accommodating when other asha come to visit. Besides, you’ll have your other sisters here to take care of you.”

  “But none who cook as well as you do.” I was crestfallen. As much as I was fond of her cooking, I was even more fond of Altaecia herself.

  The redhead laughed. “I am sure there will be more than enough to do here to occupy your time. Now—what are the three illnesses that ingesting applecrut and figberry syrup will help alleviate?”

  “Stone fevers, diarrhea, and indigestion. Althy, when we visited that charity house a while back, you threatened the mistress with a cow.”

  “Mistress Mal owns that charity house, and she once told me she would pay more for her clean linen when cows fly.”

  Althy went back to chopping more onions, and I had to prompt her again. “But you eventually came to an agreement?”

  “Only after I punched a new hole in her house, using one of two wooden cows I had commissioned at the carpenter’s. It went through her wall like a plunger through churned butter. I built it to size, so I expected such results.” Althy continued to chop serenely, paying no attention to my shock. “I paid for the wall, of course, but I also paid to have the second cow erected on the field across from her place. Mistress Mal has been getting on in years, but I’ve found it to be a most effective way to jog her memory. Now, what color would gingivitis look on someone’s heartsglass?”

  • • •

  When Altaecia finally left to take up her duties in the castle, my time was claimed by Polaire. Because of my lessons and my training, the evenings were one of the few times I had for myself. Polaire soon usurped even that.