City of Bones

by Martha Wells

  "Wait here, and don't touch anything," Ecazar said. "I'll summon Arad."

  As he left, the older scholar took up a position at one of the doorways, watching them as if he was on guard.

  "Of course," Elen muttered, and glanced around. "Why do you think they're so nervous?" she asked quietly, but Khat and Sagai didn't hear her.

  Their attention had been firmly captured by what was obviously Arad-edelk's current project and the reason he had been allotted such spacious quarters.

  On the floor in the far corner of the room was a splash of soft, glowing color. It was an Ancient mural reconstructed from cracked tile pieces. The central portion was at least seven feet long and ten wide. The edges were uneven still, and some sections had gaping holes, showing the job was far from finished. Sagai gasped, and Khat felt weak in the knees himself.

  "Oh," Elen said, noticing it. "Look at that."

  Many of the surviving murals were views of the sea, but this was a landscape, and different from anything seen before. It seemed to show a place of limitless horizon, of low rolling hills covered by high grass, dotted by flowers of red, yellow, even purple. In the foreground was a stand of trees of unrecognizable types. Some might be acacia, but a taller, leafier form of acacia than Khat had seen even in the garden up on the First Tier. In the shade of the trees sat a woman.

  Her skin was a warm brown, and her hair was long and heavy and dark, hanging down to her waist and braided with strands that glittered with crystals or glass mixed in with a silvery pigment. Her features were too blunt for Patrician standards of beauty, but the smile on her face and in her dark eyes put those standards to the lie. She wore a brief light-colored shift with a net of beads or tiny gemstones over it, and it was evident that her figure was generous, though her waist was as small as a child's. She sat on a stool and was leaning down, offering her hand to the creature that played at her feet.

  "What is that?" Sagai muttered to himself.

  Khat realized that he was sitting on his heels by the mural, though not close enough to risk disarranging the precious pieces, and that Sagai was beside him. "A very ugly baby?" he suggested.

  The creature looked like a diminutive, emaciated old man, covered with short ginger-brown hair and with a weird snakelike tail. It was grinning up at the woman with a look of idiotic pleasure, but Khat felt that if he had been in its position he would've had much the same expression on his face.

  "I don't think it's a person," Elen said from behind them. "It only has four fingers. It's some mythical creature, or maybe an animal."

  A few of the pieces lay to one side, waiting to be edged back into place. Others were stored nearby, laid out on low racks of light wood, probably fresh from being cleaned of whatever dust or muck had collected on them over the years.

  "At a guess," Sagai said, still talking to himself, "five thousand, five hundred days."

  "Six thousand, maybe seven," Khat corrected. "Look at that blue." The sky was a pure and valuable cerulean blue, dotted with the white lace of clouds. Modern tiles tended to lose their color over time, but these were as brilliant as the day they were made. Little details said this work had been finely crafted: not only had the blue kept its luster, but the red had stayed red and not faded to rust-brown as sometimes occurred on otherwise well-preserved Ancient tiles.

  "Ah, yes. You're right. Six or seven thousand. At least. I'm not sure I could put a value on this."

  He was probably right. Allowing for whatever changes time had wrought on the tiles, they were looking at the sky the way the Ancients had seen it, before the Waste had burned the clouds away and melted the blue into the brighter color it was today.

  "It was found on the Eighth Tier, under the rubble of a collapsed warehouse," a quiet voice said.

  Elen straightened, stepping back self-consciously. Sagai barely glanced up. "How long has this taken you?" he asked.

  "A year. It goes more quickly now."

  "And where does it go when you finish?" Khat looked up at the newcomer for the first time.

  Arad-edelk was short, and the eyes above his veil were dark, narrow with weary suspicion, the brown skin around them lined with worry. The hyphenated second name was an old custom from the Survivor Time. In most cities it had died out, and it was really only prevalent on the lower tiers of Charisat. Arad-edelk might come from an old family, but not one whose members often made it past the Fifth Tier. He eyed Elen warily, and answered, "The palace."

  Khat and Sagai both looked up at her. Elen glared down at them. "How fortunate there's an Imperial representative handy for vilification."

  "We didn't say anything," Khat pointed out tightly. "Do you think you need vilifying?"

  "You might as well have said it."

  Ecazar was waiting in the doorway behind Arad, watching them all suspiciously, and Arad was looking at Elen as if he thought she was mad. Seeing her not only speak to lower-tier dealers but argue with them was probably all the proof he needed. Elen seemed to realize it and composed herself. She smiled at him. "I'm sorry. It's been a long day. Perhaps we could speak to you in private?"

  Uncertain, Arad turned back to the other scholars. Ecazar snorted derisively and walked out. The older scholar gave Elen a stiff-backed little bow and followed.

  "You are the scholar Arad-edelk?" she asked him.

  "Yes." This was admitted with great reluctance.

  "You recently bought a relic from a fortune-teller named Radu?"

  "No."

  Arad had looked her right in the eyes when he lied, too. The little bastard, Khat thought.

  Elen studied the scholar thoughtfully. She said, "It isn't illegal to buy a relic. There isn't even any shame in it. But what you bought is a very dangerous relic to own."

  Arad was stubborn. "I don't buy relics from the Fourth Tier. I buy from gleaners."

  Elen hadn't said anything about Radu living on the Fourth Tier. Khat cleared his throat, hoping she would notice the slip. She glared horribly at him again, so he supposed she had.

  Sagai hadn't appeared to be listening; he was studying the mural as if he meant to memorize every inch, but now he glanced up at Arad and in a tone of polite disbelief said, "You bought this wonder from Eighth Tier gleaners?"

  Arad's eyes narrowed, and he didn't answer.

  "Radu's dead," Elen added quietly. "He was killed because of the relic he sold you."

  "That means nothing to me. You must have the wrong scholar. I ask you to leave, so I can return to my work."

  "You have to listen to us," Elen persisted. "You could be in great danger."

  "You have the wrong man," Arad repeated stubbornly. "You must leave."

  Khat stood. "It's not doing any good," he told her. "Let's go."

  Arad eyed them both with that same wary caution.

  Ecazar didn't deign to reappear, but the older scholar returned as they left the building and conducted them back to the gate in silence.

  ***

  "He wasn't surprised," Elen said quietly, once they were outside the Academia's walls. "But why did he deny it?"

  "If he bought relics from Radu with Academia tokens, but concealed them from the other scholars, he could surfer for it," Sagai said. He shrugged. "It's a common enough practice, but it can be used to oust scholars who become unpopular with their superiors. The question is, did he already know the relic was dangerous to own?"

  Elen shook her head, unable to answer.

  The sun was almost directly overhead now, and few people were out. Most of the scholars and students had vanished from the colonnade, and the peddlers had retired under robes tented up to provide shade. Khat and Sagai turned by habit into the narrow street that led back into the area of the relic shops.

  "He's got it in there with him, somewhere," Khat said. "We have to go back tonight and find it."

  Elen stared. "You mean, enter by stealth?"

  Even Sagai was startled.

  "If we pound on the front gate, I don't think it'll do much good," Khat said.


  "I don't like it," Elen protested. "If we're caught, Riathen would have to intervene for us and everything would come out. That is, if he intervened for us. He couldn't risk the Heir's part in this being revealed."

  Khat glanced down at her skeptically. Riathen would intervene for her, he was sure of it. He doubted the Master Warder would lift a finger for Sagai or himself, unless he thought he still needed them. That was why he meant to arrange things so Sagai would wait outside the Academia.

  "I'm not happy with it either," Sagai said, "but I can't see any other course." He glanced over at Khat. "How are you so sure we can get inside?"

  That question would take some answering. As Khat was considering how much to say, a hooded figure stepped out of the alley they were passing and brushed past him.

  A familiar hooded figure.

  Khat turned and ducked his head, seeing nothing of the knife but the sun's flash on steel, the slash that should have opened his throat missing by inches. Off balance, he fell against the alley wall, shoved away from it in time to miss the return stroke aimed for his eyes.

  Sagai had pulled Elen out of the way, and now he started toward their attacker. Akai shook his hood back. His hard eyes were angry, but his lean face revealed only rapt concentration. He said, "Stay out of this, dealer. Lushan isn't interested in you."

  Khat motioned Sagai back. He didn't want him involved in this, but his partner had bought him time to draw his knife. He eased forward, and Akai circled leftward so he could keep Sagai in sight. Out of the corner of his eye Khat saw Elen backed up against the wall of the alley. From the way she was standing he knew she was thinking about trying to use her painrod. He hoped she stayed out of it. Akai was too fast, too vicious for one of those cumbersome weapons.

  The smartest thing to do at this point in a knife fight was run away. But neither of them had any intention of doing that.

  Akai feinted and came in high, going for the neck again. Khat stepped in under the blow, and then they were on the ground. Akai's knife was trapped against his side; Khat felt it biting into his ribs. He drove his own blade home, and Akai screamed.

  Khat rolled away from him. There was blood all over the ground, and it took him a moment to realize little of it was his. Akai was scrabbling in the dust, gasping for air. Khat's blade had caught him in the upper thigh, where the big artery ran close to the skin. He was trying to stanch the wound, but every beat of his heart was forcing out more blood.

  Elen was leaning over Khat anxiously. "Are you badly hurt?"

  The blade had torn his shirt and drawn a long shallow cut along his ribs. Khat shook his head. Akai had lost the fight when he failed to kill him with the first attack.

  "We have to go," Sagai was saying. "Trade Inspectors could be here any moment."

  A death fight on the Fourth Tier, this close to the shops, would be considered an impeding of trade. Khat struggled to his feet. He had had two fights today, one for his pride and one for his life, and he wasn't looking for a third.

  They went down the alley, crossed a second, and down another. Sagai stopped at a fountain in a quiet court where most of the inhabitants seemed to be either away or asleep. Elen threw some copper bits at the old fountain keeper before he could even stir off his bench and dipped her scarf in the water. She handed it to Khat, who used it to scrape off a little of the dust and blood. "Who was that man?" she demanded. "Why did he want to kill you?"

  "That was Akai. He works for Lushan," Khat told her. "I was expecting him to turn up sooner or later."

  Elen was still confused. "The man Miram said came to your house?"

  "Yes." Sagai was looking down at Khat with a determined expression. "And there is something I want you to explain."

  Khat shifted uneasily. It was too late to avoid this by pretending to be more injured than he actually was.

  Sagai said, "I thought Lushan sent his bullies after Ris to make you work for him, and that you were reluctant to admit it. Is this true, or is it because he wants you to work for him again?"

  Khat looked into the fountain. "When I first came here, I did a lot of things I don't do now." Since he was being truthful, he added, "And I enjoyed them, too."

  "Stealing for Lushan?" Sagai was grim.

  "That was one of them."

  "Then why did you stop?" The question came from Elen.

  "I didn't like it." There was no sport to taking things when the owners were asleep or absent, too much danger for little return when they weren't. It was easier by far to find relics of your own under ruined buildings or in sewer outlets and middens. But Khat had had more sense than to try to explain this viewpoint to Lushan.

  Elen looked skeptical. "Is that all?"

  "No," Khat admitted, in the interest of telling the whole truth. "I got caught." He looked up at them. "I was in a Patrician house on the Third Tier. Lushan knew there were some fine relics there, and he especially wanted the mythenin incense urn they were supposed to have. I didn't expect it to amount to much. Those are almost never found intact, unless they've been repaired with lousy Survivor-work metal. But when I found it... intact, openwork lid, gold inlay with a floral design." He saw Sagai struggling not to seem interested. "They had it in a cabinet with a bunch of Survivor pots and fake crematory jars." He turned to Elen. "In the Enclave you can't own relics. They belong to everybody. Nobody can take one away and hide it and say no one else can look at it."

  Sagai folded his arms. "Khat. You read three languages. You've been to most of the Fringe Cities. You have the Trade Articles of Charisat memorized, and you've forgotten more about the Ancients than half the supposed relic scholars in the Academia will ever know. Don't try to tell me that you didn't understand what you were doing."

  "Well, no, I knew what I was doing," Khat admitted. "Their vigils were more alert than I thought, and I got out of the house, but I couldn't get down off the roof. I went over a couple of houses; then they took a shot at me and I had to duck in through a window. There was a man sitting on the floor, writing by lamplight. It was Scholar Robelin."

  "Ah," Sagai said. "I wondered how you had met him."

  "The vigils came to the door, but he wouldn't let them in, and he said he hadn't seen anybody. Told them shooting at windows in the dark was a poor way to insure the safety of honest citizens. They left, and he gave me a lecture on why I shouldn't be up on the Third Tier stealing. I'd read what he was writing by that time, and it was a treatise on relics found near the Remnants, so I showed him the urn, and we had an argument about whether the designs on it were related to the Battai murals. They weren't. The background design is in a similar style, but it's coincidence."

  "What makes you say that?" Sagai asked, then caught himself and shook his head. "Never mind, go on."

  "He said he wanted me to come to the Academia and help him work on the Remnants. That was the first time I'd had any chance of getting in there." Khat shrugged. "He didn't have to help me. So I gave him the urn."

  "Wait," Elen said. She was still confused. "He lectured you about stealing, but he accepted the stolen urn?"

  Sagai frowned at her. "An intact mythenin incense urn? Of course. He would have to be mad to refuse." He turned his attention back to Khat. "And Lushan, I suppose, wanted you to pay him its value."

  "He's crazy. It wasn't his. I could give it to whoever I wanted. But he never got over it. Sometimes, to make him leave me alone, I'd take something for him. I haven't done it for a long time, though, because we were so busy. I paid him finally, but it just made him madder. That's crazy for you."

  "Let me make sure I understand this," Elen said carefully. "While we are searching for these relics that could make the difference in life or death for all the Warders living now and all the generations of Warders to come, you are carrying on a private war with this . .. this ... jumped-up Fourth Tier thief?"

  "What did you expect me to do, drop everything because of your business?" Khat asked her, exasperated. "And I told Riathen at the time he shouldn't have hired me."

&
nbsp; Elen buried her face in her hands, apparently fighting for calm. "I understand perfectly," she said finally. "Did you ever consider that perhaps Lushan didn't go crazy until after he met you?"

  Khat ignored her. He was watching Sagai carefully. "Still partners?" he asked.

  After a moment, Sagai sighed. "Who else would have you?"

  Chapter Twelve

  Khat told Elen and Sagai that they couldn't possibly consider entering the Academia until after the fourth hour of the night. This was true.

  It also gave him time to make his next move in what Elen called his private war with that jumped-up Fourth Tier relic thief.

  The loss of Harim and Akai would cause an upset in Lushan's household arrangements, and the broker had never been particularly cautious anyway, relying on fear of retaliation to keep thieves away. Now the time was right, Khat decided, for one or two enterprising young professionals to try their luck on Lushan's vast store of relics. Especially if they had advice from someone who had been in the rooms the collection was kept in, and could describe the house to them. And Caster would be just the one to arrange it all.

  Khat found him in the Arcade, just as it was closing down for the night. They retreated to one of the highest levels, dangerous from weakened supports and holes in the flooring and always deserted, while Khat laid out his plan and drew the different rooms of Lushan's house in the dust.

  While Caster was figuring everyone's percentage from the possible take, Khat looked across the Arcade, shadowy from the gathering darkness outside and growing quiet as the noise from below faded. He hadn't heard anything. He might have seen something, just at the corner of his eye. "Did you see anything?" he asked Caster.

  "No." The Silent Market dealer scanned the area suspiciously. "Did you?"

  "No." Khat shrugged it off. Lushan had more enemies than any other broker in Charisat; it wasn't likely he would suspect Khat of planning this, and he would hardly be able to report the theft to the Trade Inspectors-too many of the relics in his house were stolen, and bribes would only protect him so far.