Empire of Bones

by Liz Williams

  It is true that if you go wandering off, the ship will locate you, the raksasa admitted grudgingly.

  “Then what the hell’s the problem?” The only difficulty, Jaya was sure, was that this did not fit in with Ir Yth’s plans and that the raksasa resented the loss of control. “I suggest you return to your solid form on the ship,” she added. “We’ll make our own way out. And if the ship can do anything to help us, I suggest it do so.” Then turning her back on Ir Yth, she followed a fidgeting Rakh to the doors that led out onto the courtyard balustrade. She glanced back once. The raksasa had gone.

  Outside in the murmuring shadows, Shiv Sakai was waiting with a rope and a harness. “The others are down already. Put this on. Rakhi and I will lower you.”

  Jaya slid her arms into the harness and froze. There were voices in the courtyard below as soldiers fanned out into it. She recognized the khaki uniforms, and it came as no surprise. Anand’s men. Along the balustrade, no more than a few yards away, one of the yellow monkeys gave a demonic shriek and leaped onto the stone coping. Gunfire stitched the balustrade. Jaya threw herself flat as a ricocheting bullet whined overhead.

  From below she heard someone shout, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” It was Amir Anand. Again, no surprise there. But there was a raw edge of panic in Anand’s voice that she did not recall ever hearing before. Beside her, Rakh hissed, “Go.” He hoisted her up to the narrow slit of a window, so that she was suddenly perched high above the street. She could see movement in the shadows, the glint of a gun at the end of the road where a soldier stood. The street was still cordoned off. Was Anand acting on his own initiative, then? Jaya swore under her breath.

  “Ready?”—but then Rakh spun around. There was an electric flurry of noise from the temple courtyard: a burst of gunfire, Anand crying out, the sound of running footsteps. Jaya glanced back from her perch on the windowsill to see the robed figure of Ir Yth gliding soundlessly across the courtyard. There was the hiss of a dart gun. Anand’s men sprinted forward with a net and cast it over the gliding figure. The net passed through Ir Yth’s ghostly form and fell harmlessly to the ground.

  Jaya felt Rakh’s hands around her waist, passing her through the window. She spun above the street like a parcel in a spider’s web. Then the rope was lowering and within a few seconds she was in the hands of her men Sokash and Ajit, being helped down onto the street. Minutes later, Shiv and Rakh joined her.

  Abandoning the rope, they melted around the sides of the temple to the place where the army cordon was least guarded. From behind, there were shouts. Jaya glanced back to see a familiar stout figure sailing past the main gate as lightly as a leaf on the wind. Soldiers’ feet pounded over the dusty earth, but Jaya and her men slid between the tailgates of the vehicles and into the maze of streets that surrounded the temple. Ten minutes later, they were out onto the ghats by the river.

  “Now where?” Jaya asked, panting against the warm wall of the ghat. The night seemed to close around her like a glove. Shiv Sakai’s teeth glimmered in the soft darkness.

  “I was thinking we’d borrow a boat.”

  “Good idea.” Jaya rubbed gritty eyes. “But they’ll probably be looking for that. Here’s what we’ll do. Rakh comes with me, up into Goudalia. Shiv, you and the others cross the river, and—”

  That will not be necessary, the raksasa’s voice said inside Jaya’s mind. Jaya looked up to see Ir Yth floating several feet above the surface of the Ganges. I have distracted your pursuers.

  “Thank you,” Jaya breathed.

  The raksasa made a dismissive gesture with a lower arm. It was a simple matter. But it is clear to me that we cannot continue with this sort of distraction. We must put you where you will be safe.

  “That might be tricky.”

  Not at all. You will come here to the ship. I am dispatching a raft, the raksasa said. She seemed to be looking down at something that Jaya could not see. Reaching out a hand, she turned an invisible dial, ran fingers across the air. A hard, tight bolt of fright twisted Jaya’s stomach. The thought of actually visiting the ship, the originator of the voice, both exhilarated and terrified her.

  She turned her face away so that Ir Yth could not see her expression, determined not to let the raksasa know how scared she was. There was a sudden flurry of wings from the towers of the ruin behind her, and a flock of crows and parakeets whirled up into the darkness. High above Varanasi, something glittered, like light reflecting from a window in the distance.

  “What’s that?” Jaya whispered, but she already knew.

  It is the raft.

  They watched in a tense silence as the raft drifted down. It did not seem to have any definable shape. Four immense vanes shifted and coiled, and within them something was twisting. As it floated down, Jaya saw that the vanes were transparent, though they glittered in the light and filaments ran across them, red as blood. Jaya instinctively ducked, but as the raft settled above the river it suddenly retracted its vanes and sank, light as air, to the edge of the ghat. It was perhaps the size of a large car. She heard someone gasp.

  “I’m going up in that?” Jaya asked, alarmed.

  Unless you propose to fly, the raksasa said with the first flicker of anything approaching humor that Jaya had yet to see.

  “What about my men? It’s not large enough for all of us, and there’s no way I’m leaving them behind.”

  You will have to, the raksasa said, impatiently. You are the Receiver, no other is designated.

  “Then I’m not going. I won’t let them face Anand alone. I—”

  “Jaya,” Rakh said from behind. He touched her arm. “Go. Go to where you’ll be safe. We’ve been looking after ourselves for long enough.”

  But will I be safe? Jaya thought with deep unease. What if all of this is no more than another lie? But then, why would Ir Yth go to all this trouble? If she wanted me for some dark purpose, why wouldn’t she simply have taken me?

  “Rakhi’s right,” Shiv Sakai added. “You’re our best chance, Jaya.”

  Touch it, the raksasa said.

  Jaya put out her twisted fingers and tentatively rested them on the glistening side of the raft. It felt warm and soft, like flesh in the sun. It pulsed beneath her palm.

  “It’s as though it’s alive,” Jaya said uncertainly.

  It is between, Ir Yth informed her, with maddening smugness.

  “How do I get in?”

  Touch it.

  With a doubtful glance, Jaya stroked the side of the raft, and a slit opened up. It looked disconcertingly animate.

  “Am I doing this right?” She ran a finger along the slit. Something about this felt very wrong, but the slit widened, and with a noise like a seedpod the raft opened up. Inside was a complex wet webbing. It smelled like an overripe melon.

  Settle yourself within.

  “Wait a minute,” Jaya said.

  There is no more time. They are looking for you, the ones from the temple—the ship tells me this. You have no choice, Ir Yth said, and there was something like a hot clutch inside Jaya’s mind. Her vision swam momentarily red. She felt herself tottering forward to step over the lip of the raft.

  She heard Shiv cry, “Jeete rahon, Jaya!” in traditional farewell. Keep living. It seemed all too appropriate. Still moved by a force that she could not repel, she sat down, wondering if this was going to be the last thing she ever did. She glanced frantically up at Rakh’s dismayed face, but then the webbing folded itself around her. Jaya tried very hard not to think of spiders. Grimly, she shut her eyes. The webbing seeped over her mouth, forcing it apart. Surrender did not come easily. There was a bitter taste in her mouth, like ash or aloes, and then a numbness. It was putting her to sleep. Panic finally overtook her. She started to struggle. It was, of course, much too late. The raft sealed with a sound like someone splitting a watermelon and Jaya fell into the depths of night.

  6.

  Depth ship, orbit: Earth?

  When Jaya woke, she was somewhere dim a
nd empty and quiet. She blinked, feeling an unaccustomed euphoria spreading through her. She rolled over, unimpeded, and sat up. She felt strange—light and mobile—and only when she looked down at her hands did she realize what had happened. Her hands were young again, the skin dark and smooth, with a slightly unnatural texture, like plastic. The garnet of her mother’s ring gleamed in the faint light.

  Jaya stared down at her healed self, incredulous and strangely dismayed. Then relief flooded through her, so suddenly that tears sprang to her eyes. Cured. Ir Yth had told her that she would be healed, but the raksasa was so slippery she hadn’t dared believe it. And if they could cure her with such apparent ease, then surely they could cure other sufferers, of diseases such as cancer. Or Selenge.

  She reached up wonderingly and touched her face. No lines, no wrinkles; just skin stretched over angular bones. She could see something pale out of the corner of her eye, and when she touched it she saw that it was her own hair. It had changed, falling in a long white skein down her back. The texture was as fine as silk, but it seemed that whoever had cured her had mistaken its paleness for her natural color. She was barefoot, and wearing the same camouflage trousers and vest that she had worn in the temple. She was dying for a cigarette. Maybe they would cure that, too.

  The thought of being forced to give up smoking was an alarming one. The floor was as smooth as her own new skin. She reached out to run her hand along it, and the floor rumpled and arched beneath her touch. She snatched her hand away. Not alive—between. She was on an alien ship, high above the Earth. Her brain couldn’t take it in; it was surely nothing but a dream…

  Abruptly, Jaya stood up, stretching with the pleasure of painlessness. But it was more than just the absence of pain. She reached down, legs straight, palms flat on the floor. Then she sat back down and slipped a foot onto either thigh. Full lotus; effortless. She arched her back, her arms flat behind her head and her knees resting on the floor, and laughed for pure pleasure.

  Ir Yth hadn’t just cured her—the raksasa seemed to have turned her into a yoga master as well. A whole new body. She had never believed it would be possible to feel like this, and if Ir Yth had drifted in at that moment, Jaya would have hugged her. Let’s hope it lasts.

  At that thought, she sat swiftly up again. Memory flooded back, accompanied by urgency. What about Rakh and her men? Had they melted away to safety while she floated up into the heavens like Sita in Rama’s chariot? She had to find out.

  “Ir Yth?” Jaya asked, experimentally, but there was no reply. The room curved above her, pale and dappled like the skin of a sacred cow. It smelt of nothing. Then the wall opened and the raksasa was there. Jaya scrambled to her feet. This time, the raksasa was solid. Now that she was no longer merely a simulation, Jaya could see, Ir Yth’s skin had more texture. It looked glistening and hard. The petaled interior of her mouth was wet. Jaya could smell her, too: a mustiness like decayed spice, overlaid by a complexity of unfamiliar odors.

  You are pleased? The modifications are acceptable? Ir Yth asked. The scent of spice deepened.

  “Thank you. Yes, yes they are. Thank you very much,” Jaya said, sincerely. She wanted to ask about the wider implications of the cure, and about her men, but Ir Yth continued, The mediator has contacted me. He was most concerned with the risk to your safety.

  “That was very kind. When am I to meet the mediator?”

  Soon. Do you require food? It is here, The raksasa caressed the wall, and something like a spout appeared. Jaya watched warily as a viscous drop of something dewy appeared at the spout’s end.

  Nutrients.

  The tempting vision of a glass of tea swam before Jaya’s inner eye. Sarnosas. Brinjal pickle, chapatis. Goddess, I’m hungry. But the viscous drop smelled strong and strange, dispelling appetite.

  “I don’t want any food at the moment. But thank you. Listen, Ir Yth, is there a way of communicating with my men? With the one called Rakh?”

  Rakh is not a Receiver, Ir Yth said, severely. You are safe. That is all that matters.

  “It is not all that matters! There was danger. I have to know what happened to them, whether they are safe, too.”

  Why? Can they not look after themselves?

  “They’re my friends. I’m worried about them.” She ran a distracted hand through her new hair.

  I will ask the ship if a search might be made. Perhaps you might speak to the ship, too. And now I will show you your world, Ir Yth said, with the air of one about to bestow a great favor. Jaya sighed with frustration. She was truly grateful for the cure; if only the raksasa were not so condescending… But Westerners were the same, always expecting you to exclaim over marvels that were to them mundane.

  She followed Ir Yth through the wall and into a maze of cell-like chambers, trying to note where they were going. There were no corridors, and no windows until the raksasa paused and fluted a command. Then a whole expanse of mottled skin peeled away and there was Earth, disorientingly vast, looking as it did in every photograph Jaya had ever seen. There seemed to be nothing between herself and space; she stepped back with a gasp. Ir Yth was watching her expectantly. Evidently some further response was called for.

  “Wonderful,” Jaya said, feeling completely inadequate. She noticed that the raksasa’s attention had been distracted. Ir Yth was staring beyond her shoulder. Jaya turned. Someone had entered the chamber.

  The person was tall and wore a long, pale robe. After a moment of confusion, Jaya identified him as male. He was glancing absently at the planet below, and at first sight he appeared far more human than Ir Yth. Only two arms, for a start. His face was cast into shadow. The angles of bone and brow were starting to look familiar, but then the light shifted and changed and Jaya saw that the newcomer had a pointed face that was the same dappled color as the ship’s skin. He had molten eyes with a vertical pupil, and a shock of what initially appeared to be hair but which Jaya soon realized were hundreds of thin quills held back with a braid. A narrow mouth, more or less human, lay beneath a bladed nose not unlike a beak. The quills lifted slightly and rattled.

  The newcomer said something to Ir Yth, and as he did so, Jaya was washed with a wave of conflicting emotions: surpriseinquiry/concern/ and several more that she couldn’t even identify, but which sent shivers of contradictory impulses across her skin. Why couldn’t she sense Ir Yth like this? Before she knew what she was doing, Jaya wrapped her arms around herself. This, she realized, must be the mediator.

  Ir Yth inclined her head in what could almost have been a bow. The mediator stared at her, and Jaya thought he looked puzzled. But it was hard to read the alien features; very probably she was wrong.

  The mediator will communicate his wishes through me, the raksasa said. I have explained to you that he is of a lower caste than myself; he does not have my speech capacities. Until you develop a mutually satisfactory means of communication, I will interpret your responses to him.

  “Please tell the mediator I am honored to meet him,” Jaya answered, feeling unsure of herself. Ir Yth seemed perfectly capable of mediating, so why had this person been brought in? She called on her jackal senses, looking for clues. But though she was adept at assessing a possible enemy, this unhuman person eluded her. A sense of welcome rippled through Jaya as the raksasa translated. They seemed to communicate through mood, through emotion, and Jaya wondered just what she herself might be conveying to the mediator. An unhelpful mix of fear, distrust, and fascination could be surging toward him even as the thought occurred to her.

  She had not noticed this phenomenon with the raksasa, but then, until now she and Ir Yth had never been physically present together in the same place. Just how far did Ir Yth’s “speech capacities” extend? She seemed able to place statements in Jaya’s mind, but not to read the complexities of Jaya’s thoughts. If the raksasa and the mediator communicated through mood, Jaya mused, her own speech might be too primitive and confused for Ir Yth to grasp correctly. If that was so, Jaya might be able to use it to her adv
antage.

  She did not want to dwell on this idea in the raksasa’s presence, just in case. A possible answer came: meditate. Jaya took a deep breath, reached inside, imagined prana gliding up her spine. Her heart rate slowed, obediently as a yogi’s. She thought: If only I’d had this body back in the revolution. Imagine not being weak, not getting sick all the time. And she had a moment of pure and irrational regret, that Kamal would never be able to see her new hair.

  The mediator said that he is delighted to see you well, Ir Yth conveyed.

  “Please thank him very much for curing me.”

  She was lapped in a bath of positive feelings. Suddenly Jaya liked the mediator very much. She wanted to know more about him, become his friend. Hang on. What’s happening to me? She wondered whether the mediator was deliberately influencing her in some way, and risked a glance. The golden eyes were round and mild, with nothing of the predator in them.

  “Please forgive me,” she said, and meant it. “I know nothing of your customs. I do not know what is considered polite and what is not. I do not wish to offend you.”

  The mediator spoke. Subtle, many-layered feelings slid over Jaya. Ir Yth replied, The mediator understands. Allowances must be made, on his part as well as yours. He wishes you well. You are both desqusai, after all.

  “We’re both what? I’m sorry, I don’t understand.” The sense of the word as it came to Jaya’s mind was: category caste/level/position/obligation/.

  Desqusai, the raksasa said, with a touch of impatience. You are the same.

  Jaya looked at the quills, the yellow gaze, the pale, hard skin. “I don’t think we’re the same, somehow.”

  I suppose I cannot expect you to understand even elementary concepts of resemblance, Ir Yth said, with evident frustration. You share the same originator genestrand, which is what makes you both desqusai. She glanced at Jaya’s blank face and gave an exasperated hiss. Oh, never mind.