The Bone Maker

by Sarah Beth Durst

The servant was conferring with Grand Master Lorn at the far end of the room. Zera’s eyes swept over everything, noting the heavy red brocade drapes were pulled shut, the usually brilliant chandeliers were extinguished, and the only light came from a trio of candles in a candelabra that stood on the grand master’s desk. Even the fire in the marble fireplace was out.

  Perhaps he’d been taking a nap? she wondered.

  Grand Master Lorn smiled at them as they approached, though she knew they’d given him little time to compose himself. A deliberate choice to keep them in control of the conversation. She wondered, though, if he was as caught off guard as she’d hoped. He dismissed the servant and came around his desk to greet them. “This is both a surprise and an honor!” His voice was rich, with a pleasant burr to it. He could have been a singer, if his life had taken him on a different path. His manners and appearance were equally cultured. He wore a purple velvet robe with silk trim and a large silver pendant with the symbol of his office. His manicured beard was a silvery gray, matching his braided hair.

  Kreya stepped forward, and Zera wondered what she’d do. After all, Zera had gone through a lot of effort to ensure they appeared before him as equals in power, if not in rank, and Kreya could easily ruin that with a polite bow or other servile pleasantry. Tread carefully, Kreya. Show him no deference.

  “You got old,” Kreya said.

  Perfect. It took all Zera’s willpower not to smirk.

  Behind her, she heard Stran groan softly.

  Kreya continued. “Given your ego, I’d have thought you’d try to hide the natural passage of time. Refreshing to see you’ve embraced your mortality so openly.”

  Grand Master Lorn did not let his smile dip, which impressed Zera. It took concentration to remain pleasant while Kreya was being her most unpleasant. In a light voice, he said, “I am delighted to see all of you again.” His eyes swept over them and then his expression did, at last, change as he saw Jentt. His mouth dropped into an O.

  Kreya said, “It is mortality that we’ve come to talk to you about.”

  Awe in his voice, he said, “Jentt lives again.”

  “He does, and he has come as proof that what we’re about to tell you is possible.” Kreya took a breath, and Zera noticed that Jentt shifted his weight so that he was there to support her without looking as if he was supporting her. Zera approved of that. “Eklor lives. And he has amassed a mighty army to march against Vos.”

  Grand Master Lorn tore his gaze from Jentt to study Kreya. “Indeed?” He sounded curious but not alarmed.

  “We have seen it.” She gestured to the others.

  One by one, they stepped forward to verify the truth. Succinctly, Kreya described what they’d seen and experienced, leaving off the true reason for their first trip to the forbidden zone and also excluding the fact that she’d been responsible for Jentt’s return. She kept her report focused on Eklor’s forces, the size and strength and readiness.

  “And what do you wish me to do about it?” His voice was neutral, and Zera could not read whether he believed them or not. In his shoes, would she? Leaning a hair forward, she glimpsed his shoes—heavily beaded sandals. Not my style.

  “Send heroes,” Kreya said. “Raise an army. Eradicate the threat in a way we never did. Our expertise and guidance will be at your chosen heroes’ disposal.”

  “And if there is no threat?”

  “Eklor lives,” Kreya repeated. “There’s a threat.”

  Grand Master Lorn considered them gravely for several minutes. He clasped his hands behind his back and crossed to one of the draped windows. An unseen construct rolled the curtains back with a soft whirr, and sunlight flooded in. For an instant, Zera could only see the light, but when her eyes adjusted, she saw the mountain range that lay beyond the glass. “It has been many years.”

  “Enough time to rebuild his army.”

  “Enough time for a man to change profoundly,” Grand Master Lorn said. “I have seen many things in my tenure as the head of the Bone Workers Guild. Many changes. Many bright-eyed young students who believe their workings will fix the world. Many bleary-eyed old masters who have lost the ability to affect that same world.”

  Kreya opened her mouth to respond, and Zera elbowed her.

  Grand Master Lorn was leading somewhere, and there was a chance he would end up where they wanted him to. They needed to give him space to pontificate. It was his way of feeling in control of the situation, and it cost them nothing to grant him that.

  Kreya gave her a subtle nod, to say she’d be patient.

  “I believe in second chances,” he said. “And I hope, in time, you will too.” Raising his voice before any of them could ask what he meant, Grand Master Lorn called, “Enter.”

  Soundlessly, the brass doors swung open.

  And Eklor walked in.

  Chapter Eighteen

  It’s the poison left in my body, Kreya thought.

  That was why she was seeing things. Things like Eklor’s strolling into Grand Master Lorn’s office and smiling at them as if they were old friends. She must still have had stone fish venom in her blood. Except that the others saw him too.

  Beside her, she felt her friends tense. Stran swore loudly and colorfully. Marso whispered, “I saw it, I see it, I saw it, I see it . . . ,” and then devolved into humming under his breath in a minor key. As much as she sympathized, Kreya wished she could ask a rag doll to silence him. She had to think!

  A bone was pressed into her palm, and Kreya glanced to see that Zera was subtly handing talismans to all of them. Closing her fingers around it, Kreya felt the grooves of the strength carving. She didn’t stop staring at Eklor the whole time.

  He looked the way she remembered, for the most part. A few more creases in his face but still handsome, with sharp cheekbones, gray-tinged skin, and hair so black that it gleamed blue in the candlelight. He wore a bone worker’s traditional ankle-length coat, with embroidered pockets. He did not look, and never had looked, like a man who dealt out death the way a card player dealt out cards.

  “Grand Master Lorn,” Kreya said evenly, “it appears that there is a genocidal war criminal in your office. Are you aware?”

  The grand master circled his desk and sat. He folded his hands and rested his chin on them. “I admit I had a similar reaction to you when Master Eklor requested an audience a week ago.” To Eklor, he said, “Perhaps it’s best if you explain?”

  She didn’t want to listen to an explanation. His blood should have already been spilled on the marble floor, and it was only the shock of seeing him here, in what should have been the safest place in all of Vos, that stayed her hand.

  Jentt broke his paralysis first and was moving faster than Kreya could think. He darted toward Eklor, a flash of silver in his hand, and his knife impacted on a marble sculpture. Stone chips clinked on the ground. Spinning around, Kreya saw that Eklor now stood beside the grand master’s desk. Lorn held a talisman in his hand and was panting slightly, though he quickly got control of his breathing and sat at his desk again. Clearly, he’d moved Eklor out of Jentt’s path.

  But . . . why?

  Kreya felt as if she were screaming from within her skin—her mind, her soul, her very blood felt as if it were screaming. She couldn’t make sense of this. Eklor, here! And the grand master, protecting him?

  “Excellent speed there, Grand Master,” Zera said drolly. “One of my talismans, I presume? Delighted you’re a customer.”

  Of course the grand master had been ready for an attack. He hadn’t risen to his position by being naïve or stupid. He’d predicted their response.

  Eklor held up his hands, palms out, as if that made him look innocent. “What I have done is unforgivable. Yet I am here, to ask for forgiveness.”

  “For killing Jentt?” Kreya demanded. “For slaughtering hundreds? Or for rebuilding your army to do it all again?”

  “There’s no army,” Grand Master Lorn said with the supreme confidence of a man who, to the best of his knowle
dge, had never been wrong. In the face of such a declarative statement, Kreya cycled through a half dozen responses, none of which were respectful of his office.

  Before she could say anything unfortunate, Stran stepped forward into the sunlight that poured through the window. He displayed his chest, and the ugly red of his wound gleamed in the light of day. “With all due respect, great sir, there is.”

  “You can’t say he was scratched by a kitty-cat,” Zera said lazily. She made cat claws with one hand. Kreya noted that her other hand rested casually in a pocket, undoubtedly a pocket with a powerful talisman. She felt a surge of gratitude for Zera. Her friends were willing to go up against the grand master of their guild, if Kreya gave the word.

  “The guards at the wall reported thieves breached the wall,” Grand Master Lorn said. “They fired upon and injured the intruders—that is where you received your wounds. Illegal activities.”

  “We saw his constructs with our own eyes,” Jentt said.

  “Remnants from the war,” Lorn said dismissively. “I’ve known they still roam the forbidden zone. That is, in part, why it is still forbidden.”

  “Hundreds of them?” Kreya said.

  “Only the few that remained after the battle,” Eklor said. “A handful of guards, for my own protection. They would not have harmed you if you hadn’t trespassed. I can assure you my remnants will harm no one else.”

  “Oh?” Kreya asked. “And we’re supposed to believe you? You made those soldiers to kill—you’re saying they’re harmless now?”

  “They’re harmless because I destroyed them,” he said promptly. “I directed them to gather in one of the tunnels and then I collapsed earth and rock on top of them, and for good measure, I set fire to the plains. They’re buried and burned, as they should be.”

  “You believe this nonsense?” Zera asked Lorn.

  Kreya wished she could ask Marso to read the truth, but she wasn’t about to ask anything of him while they stood here with the grand master and their worst enemy. She saw that Marso hadn’t moved so much as a twitch. As still as a mouse seen by an owl, he was staring motionless at Eklor. She regretted bringing him here, but how could she have known?

  It seemed the last few weeks had been a series of “How could I have known?” moments.

  But the thing was, she was their commander. She should have known.

  “I did not, at first,” Lorn said. To Eklor, he said, “Show them.”

  Kneeling smoothly, as if he’d expected this, Eklor withdrew a handful of bones from his pocket. He scattered them on the rug before him and said, “Prynato.”

  Reveal. A bone reader’s command. But Eklor was a bone maker, like Kreya, not a bone reader. She knew of no one who had both skills. They each required too much training and specialized skill, not to mention innate talent and affinity for the kind of bone work—

  Mist arose from the bones.

  She took a step backward.

  Within the mist: Flames. An undead soldier. A charred tree. The soldier screamed, silent, but still Kreya flinched as the fire licked over him. It wavered in the mist, and she saw the ruined tower. Then the image melted into swirling gray.

  All of them stared at the mist as it dispersed.

  “Well, that was conveniently clear,” Zera said. Her tone was flippant, but Kreya could hear the tremor in her voice. It was difficult to dispute what the bones had just shown. The vision had been sharp and unambiguous.

  No wonder Grand Master Lorn believes him, Kreya thought.

  “You know a bone reading shows only the truth,” Eklor said. “The truth of the past, the truth of the present, the truth of the future.”

  “Unless it doesn’t,” Marso whispered. “Unless it’s warped.”

  “Ahh,” Eklor said with a smile, “but such a warping would warp the mind of the reader, and look at me. I am sane, whole, and here.”

  Kreya doubted “sane,” but she couldn’t deny “here” as much as she wanted to. Still, he was right—deliberately twisting a bone reading was known to endanger the mind of the bone worker. Given what she knew of Eklor’s narcissism, it was unlikely he’d take such a risk . . .

  But it had to be a lie!

  Or a partial truth. “It doesn’t mean he destroyed the whole army.”

  Grand Master Lorn spoke. “The guards at the wall reported smoke blackening the sky. In the aftermath, I had my best soldiers scour the entirety of the forbidden zone. Master Eklor’s bone reading shows the truth. The tunnels have been collapsed, and all remnants of his ancient army have been destroyed. The past is burned and buried.”

  Jentt caught her eye. By his thigh, he held his hand with two fingers out. She knew what he meant—if two of them rushed at Eklor with a speed talisman, Lorn wouldn’t be able to stop them. Zera nodded once to show she’d seen and understood. They’re waiting for me, Kreya thought. A nod from her, and they’d attack.

  But this was the grand master of the Bone Workers Guild. As much as she disliked him personally, as much as she disagreed with some of his decisions, she’d never truly questioned him. She’d been a loyal soldier, honored when he’d chosen her to select and lead her group of heroes to confront Eklor when the extent of his depravity was first discovered.

  I trusted him.

  So she held off for the time being. “Why?” Kreya asked Lorn. She packed everything into that word: why was Eklor here, why was the grand master defending him, why were they being asked to accept the ludicrous idea that he sought redemption.

  “Is he threatening you?” Zera asked. “Blackmail?” She made a show of studying her nails. “Eklor, you should know that Grand Master Lorn has many, many friends who would hate to see him used in an unscrupulous way.”

  “I hope to someday count myself as one of those friends,” Eklor said. He was all politeness and charm, and Kreya didn’t believe it for a single second. It was all she could do to keep from screaming in frustration.

  The army had to still be there. It had to all be a trick! Even if she couldn’t figure out how he’d done it—crafting a false reading, hiding all trace of his forces from the guards on the wall, faking a fire, and persuading Grand Master Lorn, who was no fool, to trust him after everything he’d done.

  Why was he not in chains?

  “Grand Master Lorn,” Stran said stiffly, “tell us in plain terms: is that man under your protection?”

  Kreya translated. “We want to kill him, but we don’t want to piss you off. Give the word, and he stops breathing.” She felt as if her muscles were vibrating, every inch of her wanting to attack the monster in human skin who stood before them.

  “He is indeed under my protection,” Grand Master Lorn said.

  Eklor smiled.

  “Why?” This time it was Marso who asked, his voice quivering.

  “Because I believe in second chances,” Lorn said loftily. “Our guild did him a grievous wrong that led to a tragedy that cost us all so dearly.”

  She knew Eklor’s tragic backstory. Everyone did. It was part of the legend, entwined in theirs. His wife and child had died in a terrible accident—a cable car wire had snapped, and they hadn’t survived the fall—and he’d turned his rage and helplessness on the guild who’d created the technology that failed. “Lots of people experience loss,” Kreya said. “They don’t use it as an excuse to turn into a mass murderer.”

  “But they do find it pushes them to extremes they’d never have previously considered.” Eklor gestured at Jentt. “I thought you, of all people, would understand.”

  Kreya opened her mouth and shut it. The idea that she could be anything like this . . . this inhuman monster, this seething mass of hate disguised as a person. She shook, wanting to protest—but she had used Eklor’s research to create her spell. And worse, Eklor knew it.

  “She never hurt anyone,” Zera piped up. “You, on the other hand, murdered hundreds—thousands!”

  That was true. There was a vast difference between violating the law to help a loved one, with zero harm
done to others, and violating the law to slaughter innocents in an act of mindless revenge. Surely, Grand Master Lorn saw the difference.

  I’m not like him!

  “But she still broke the law, all of you did, as witnessed by my guards on the wall, and all of you are in need of forgiveness,” Grand Master Lorn said. He held up his hand when Jentt stepped forward to protest. “Which will be granted, if you will all agree to allow Master Eklor the chance to earn his own forgiveness.”

  He’d done the unforgivable.

  Before she could say so, Zera clutched her hand. “Consider it.”

  Kreya gawked at her. How could . . .

  “By your own admission, you crossed the border into the forbidden zone, violating the law,” Grand Master Lorn said. “Your transgression will be forgiven, each of you, if you agree to leave Master Eklor unharmed.”

  The five of them might be able to overpower the grand master and take down Eklor. She couldn’t guarantee it, though. She didn’t know what surprises Grand Master Lorn had up his sleeves, literally. Or Eklor. And if they tried and failed . . .

  “I repeat: he is under my protection,” Grand Master Lorn said. “An attack on him is an attack on me. You know the guild council would not forgive that.” He smiled benevolently.

  He’s right, she thought. If it were only Eklor they’d be fighting, that would be one thing. The Bone Makers Guild would understand an attack on their mortal enemy. But it would not forgive an attack on their grand master, no matter the excuse or provocation—the laws were clear and unyielding on that point. Regardless of whether or not the other bone workers believed they were justified, the five of them would be hunted until the end of their days. At best, Stran would lose his farm and endanger his family, and Zera would lose her wealth and all she’d built. At worst, each of them would lose their life.

  It’s not worth it, she thought.

  Killing Eklor to protect Vos was one thing.

  Killing him for revenge . . . It wasn’t worth their lives.

  She knew Eklor must have seen his victory in their faces, and she refused to look at him. She only looked at Grand Master Lorn. “He’s deceived you, and he will destroy you. When you are ready to face that truth, we will do what needs to be done. Until then . . .” She turned to each of her friends, reading in their faces that they saw what she saw: they had no choice. “You have your second chance.”