“So no special weapon then?”
He halted in his tracks, turned and glared at me. “What makes you say that?”
“You’re holed up in an Alanga stronghold.”
Gio snorted and strode into the trees. “These rumors of old Alanga weapons are ridiculous. The place was empty when we arrived, except for bats, animals who’d made their dens in the caves and the odd cobweb.”
I thought of the book, still nestled among my things. “You didn’t find anything? Seems hard to believe.”
“It’s been hundreds of years. The only things standing from their time are the ruins.”
“And the stories,” I said.
He shook his head and pushed past a branch. “Who knows what’s true and what’s not? The Emperor propagates most stories, and his forebears too. Those are his words and the words of his ancestors. You should know more than most that stories stretch the truth. Every time he feels insecure in his rule, he sends out those stupid troupes to act out the defeat of the Alanga.”
There is truth in lies. “So the tale of Arrimus, who loved her people and defended them against the sea serpent Mephisolou, is a fiction of the Empire? Seems a bright fiction to be told by an Emperor who claims the Alanga are dangerous. And what of Dione, the greatest of the Alanga, who wept and begged for death when the first Emperor found him?”
Gio’s shoulders stiffened. “Only fools believe everything they hear.”
Interesting. I’d raised his hackles in some way. I prodded him further. “And only fools discount everything they hear.”
“What fish do you have in this net, Jovis?” Gio asked with a sigh. “Are you one of those who worship the memory of the Alanga, who hope for their return? Or are you just an ass?”
Despite my unease, I couldn’t help but smile. “I’ve been told I’m the latter more times than I’d like to admit.” We trudged in silence for a while before I cleared my throat. “I don’t know you, Gio. I’ve heard of you. But if we’re to wade into this side by side, I want to know a little more of who you are.” What I wanted to know was how they found the Alanga stronghold, and what the book meant. Were there more hidden doors? How had I opened the one I’d found? But I couldn’t ask.
“I don’t even know who I am; how can you?”
He sounded so weary when he said it that my usual smart responses died on my lips. I held my injured arm close to my chest, put my head down and focused on following him through the forest. Rain splashed at the back of my neck and slicked my hair to my head. We’d both had stories told about us and we both knew these stories held only grains of truth.
We reached the hillside leading up to the palace near sunset. Gio studied the scroll again. “The entrance is hidden, on the southern side.” He pulled a couple of lightweight green cloaks from his bag. “We climb and we hide among the bushes. I’d planned to make this ascent at night, but the rain will provide cover, and it will be dark by the time we reach the top. That’s when the riot will begin.”
If I’d still had the thrum in my bones, I would have reached the top with daylight to spare. But I said nothing, only draped the cloak around my shoulders and followed him up the slope. We ducked beneath branches each time the guard on the walls looked our way, and grasped at rocks. It was slow going.
“So what happens next after you overthrow this governor?” I said when we were halfway up. I’d asked him this before, I knew, but I’d never been good at keeping silences.
For a while, he said nothing, and I thought he’d chosen to ignore me. “I’m not a fool, if that’s what you think. With the caro nuts, we can force some of the nobility over to our side. We’ll have Khalute and Nephilanu by then, and more are joining the Shardless Few every day. It will be the start of a true rebellion. We strengthen our foothold here, and then strike out at other islands.”
“And will the new governor be amenable to this plan?” I asked. I knew where this was going. A coup did not end with the usual line of succession.
“You don’t trust me,” Gio said, “and that’s fine. I wouldn’t trust me either. But I do care for the people of the Empire, and I do believe the Sukai Dynasty needs to come to an end. You don’t need to see me as a leader. You don’t need to believe the stories. But if you care at all for those children you’ve saved, if it was ever about more than the money, then you’d stay. I don’t know why you’re searching for that boat, or why it haunts you. But if you haven’t caught it yet – you never will. Better to stand with the Shardless Few. Time is waning, Jovis. It always is. You can spend your life chasing and running, living half a life.”
I waited, a dark, sick feeling writhing in my chest – because I knew it wasn’t him I was angry with. But he didn’t say anything more. “Or what?” I spat out the words, rain trickling into my eyes.
“That,” he said, finding his grip on another rock and pulling himself upward, “is entirely up to you.”
The gloom of the day had faded into the gloom of nightfall by the time we reached the top, and the rain had slowed to a drizzle. “Here,” Gio said. He drew aside some foliage to expose a door painted the same colors as the wall. He pulled a key from his bag. “We’ve been working on this plan for a long time.”
I adjusted my grip on my staff. I had to tell him I didn’t have my abilities. Now, before it was too late. I didn’t trust him, but I didn’t have a choice.
But then he was opening the door and it was too late. Beyond stood two guards in a small room, one facing us and one away, both looking bored. I stared at the one facing the door for a moment.
He moved first, drawing his sword. The other guard turned.
My injured arm throbbed and burned. This was it – the moment I couldn’t avoid.
“Jovis . . .” Gio’s voice.
I rushed into the room, my staff held at the ready. And then I reached again for the thrum in my bones.
Nothing.
Ah well. This seemed to be my luck lately. I swung my staff at the first soldier. I connected before he could bring his sword to bear. But then something happened with his legs. His face went wide with shock and his feet went out from under him. He tumbled down the hillside. It looked like he was being carried.
Gio appeared beside me, a dagger in hand. He engaged the second guard, spinning out of the way of a blow. The man’s blade caught in Gio’s cloak, and Gio used his momentum to spin the cloth around the weapon. He pulled, wrenching the blade from the guard. Before the man could do anything else, Gio struck him across the face with the hilt of his dagger.
The man fell to the floor.
“It appears the stories were true about you,” Gio said, his breathing heavy.
I opened my mouth. Shut it. I reached for the thrum, as though I could have done some magic without realizing it. My bones were silent. A prickle raised all the hairs on my arms.
Whatever had happened, it hadn’t been me.
33
Lin
Imperial Island
“I am sick,” I said to the spy construct. “Say it back to me in my voice.”
The little construct rose onto its hind legs, its nose quivering. “I am sick,” Hao said. Its voice was a little bit higher than mine despite its efforts, but it was a fair enough approximation.
“Good.” I plumped the pillows beneath my covers and guided the construct beneath the blanket. “Stay here until I return. If someone knocks at the door, say ‘I am sick’ in my voice.” Hao’s tail twitched like it understood. And even though I knew I didn’t have to give it anything and that it would follow my orders regardless, I took a nut out from my sash pocket and gave it to the little beast.
It devoured it in moments, leaving behind crumbs on the bedsheet that it sniffed out to find and devour. I let the covers fall.
I’d rewritten Mauga and Uphilia. Ilith, the Construct of Spies, was next. The door to her lair lay within the shard storeroom – the small door at the back. I wondered if Ilith left and entered through this way, or if, like the spy constructs, she had
some hole that she crawled in and out of, dirt clinging to the underside of her carapace. I shuddered.
Night had long since fallen, but I wasn’t sure how long this journey would take me. I’d known exactly where Mauga’s and Uphilia’s lairs were. Ilith’s was more of a mystery to me. That it was through that door, I knew. How far I’d go after that, I had no idea. I tucked my engraving tool into my sash pocket. This time, I’d not brought any extra shards. I’d do this the right way, without hurting anyone.
I slipped out into the silent hallway. The palace was like a shrine at night, lit by the odd lamp here or there, the wooden floorboards creaking a little beneath my weight. When everyone was asleep, I felt alone in the world. There was a comfort in that loneliness, the soft touch of black silk wrapped around me, hiding me away. My father might have ruled the Empire, but when he was asleep, when Bayan and all the servants were asleep, this palace was my kingdom. I held the keys to its doors and plied its secrets from its rooms.
The bone shard storeroom hadn’t changed since I’d last left it. I lit the lamp by the door, illuminating the rows of shelves and drawers, all neatly tucked away. So many lives contained in those drawers, so much power for my father.
It didn’t take me long to find the shards of Numeen’s family, searching by their ages and their names. They felt odd in my hands, now that I knew their owners. These little pieces of them, these bones. They clicked together like lacquered cards in my hands. I didn’t have Numeen’s but I had his family’s. That would mean something.
Tucking all the shards into my sash, I made my way to the door at the back of the room and to the cloud juniper door. With a deep breath, I drew out the key Numeen had made for me and inserted it into the lock. He underestimated his work. It turned smoothly, without the hint of give. The door swung open noiselessly, revealing only darkness beyond. The air inside was cooler, damp with moisture. It smelled like rain and decay.
There were no lanterns on the inside of this door. I had to take the lantern by the first door and bring it with me. The hallway I illuminated only continued a short distance before a set of steps descended into the earth. My insides quaked as I approached the steps. Of all the places I’d been inside the palace, this felt the darkest, like the bowels of some enormous beast, long since dead. The walls around me turned to dirt and stone. I remembered what I’d read – that there had once been a witstone mine on Imperial and my father had shut it down. Was this the remains of it? It certainly felt like the sort of place Ilith would make into her lair.
I came to a fork in the path.
This I hadn’t expected. Both passageways looked the same when I held my lamp into their mouths. What if I got lost? All I could imagine was being trapped in these passages, the weight of the earth above me. I’d gone willingly into my own tomb.
I swallowed the fear. This wasn’t a maze. Not yet. I could easily find my way out by tracing back my steps. If I panicked here, how much more would I panic when facing down Ilith herself with her eight limbs and eight hands? I breathed in deep and then out, and chose the left passage. The darkness seemed to swallow the sound of my footsteps.
A smell hit me when I’d gone ten paces in. It smelled like Mauga – musky, like old dried urine, hay and dung. I swung my lantern in front of me, my hand trembling. A growl. The flash of yellow eyes. And then something slammed into me, a wall of coarse fur, the wet warmth of a slathering mouth.
Ilith would have sentries, of course. The thought seemed to exist in the eye of a storm, a calm spot in the turmoil of my mind.
The beast pushed against me, its maw trying to reach my shoulder. The lamp dropped from my hand and hit the mineshaft floor, the flame mercifully staying lit. Its light showed me a beast like a bear, its eyes flashing. I scrambled with my hands, trying to keep it from biting me – shoving, pressing, my arms a weak counterpoint to the creature’s strength. I wouldn’t be able to stave it off for long. It would tear me to pieces in this passageway. Sweat gathered in the small of my back as I fought for some measure of relief.
Wait. It was a construct.
Its teeth seized my shoulder. I only had one chance at this. I stopped resisting, took in a breath and plunged my right hand into its body.
I felt coarse fur, and then my fingers were inside the creature. It froze, its teeth still digging into my flesh. I winced as I searched inside of it for the bone shards, each movement aching. I found the column of shards near the creature’s spine and pulled the top one off the stack. I had to pry the beast’s jaws from my shoulder before I could move. It had barely broken the skin, though I knew my whole shoulder would be bruised by tomorrow morning. I lifted the lamp to the shard.
“Attack anyone except Ilith, Shiyen and spy constructs.”
That was easy enough to fix. With my engraving tool, I added “and Lin,” and held it over my breast as I carved the identifying star. I pushed it back into the construct and continued on my way before it could awaken. The passage seemed to get darker after that, the path leading ever downward.
I caught the next construct before I rounded the corner where it lived, plunging my hand inside it before it could even react to my presence. Again, I rewrote its attack command. The walls down here shone with a vein of chalky, white witstone. It nearly made up the entire left wall. A wealth of witstone, right beneath the palace. Why had my father shut down these mines? Was it for fear that these passages riddling the rock would destabilize the palace? My father wasn’t a greedy man, but he was practical. If the mine was still producing, he wouldn’t have shut it without good reason.
A little way from the next construct, I found another door.
It looked strange here in the rough passageway, a little brown door with a brass knob. It sat in a round alcove, and the sides had been plastered and bricked off. I tried the doorknob even though I knew already it would be locked. It rattled but didn’t turn. Father didn’t like to leave many doors unlocked. I supposed I was lucky he at least left the latrines unlocked. I pressed my ear to the lacquered wood. It was cool against my cheek. I couldn’t hear anything except my own breathing.
Whatever lay behind that door, it would have to wait until I could find the key and again make my way into these tunnels. Ilith’s lair still lay ahead, if I’d chosen the correct fork.
The passage sloped down again, so steep in some places that I had to use my hands to help lower myself lest I slip. I grew disoriented in the dark, sure but not sure that I’d doubled back somewhere, that there were now tunnels above me in addition to the palace. I felt the weight of so many layers pressing down on me, making it difficult to breathe.
When I first saw the glow ahead of me, I thought it some trick of the light. But when I tucked the lantern below an arm and could still see the glow outlining the passage ahead, I knew – I was close to Ilith’s lair. I knelt and quietly set the lamp on the passageway floor, careful not to let it click against the stone. I drew the engraving tool from my sash and held it in front of me even though I couldn’t do much damage with it. But the weight of it felt better in my hand than nothing.
I crept around the corner.
Something skittered past my feet. I nearly jumped out of my skin. A flash of red fur disappeared around the corner.
My heartbeat pulsed at my throat; my mouth went dry. I froze just like Bayan had the night before, like a rabbit sighting prey. It had been a spy construct. It was here to report to Ilith and it had just passed me on my way into her lair. I wanted to run. My legs were poised to carry me away from here, back up the tunnel, to the safety of my room where I’d spent most of the past five years, under the covers, my breath warming the space beneath the sheets.
But if I went, Ilith would still know. The incontrovertible truth of it made my insides wither. I didn’t have another choice. If I stayed here frozen, I’d lose any chance I had. My chances were already dwindling.
Courage. I crept into the glow of Ilith’s lair.
Three lamps were scattered across the walls, their light dim
as tiny moons. Ilith didn’t line her den with fresh hay, not like Mauga or Uphilia. Thick strands of webbing obscured two of the walls. White lines of it were strung across the floor, glittering in the lamplight. I stepped over them, not wanting to test their stickiness. Ilith sat in the center of the room, her back to me. Her hands were busy at work. She wrote missives with two of them. Two others moved over her hair and body, as though they could somehow improve her appearance. The little spy who’d brushed past me sat on its haunches in front of the Construct of Spies and gave its report.
“While they did laundry, two of the servants gossiped about Jovis, the smuggler who has been stealing away children. One of them wondered if he was handsome . . .”
I let out a breath slowly. These rudimentary spy constructs were not people. They did not lead with the most interesting information first. It was going through the day in chronological order. It would take some time before it reported its sighting of me in the corridor.
Ilith’s back was turned. I could make it there and start working with her shards before I was given away. I took a few rapid steps forward while they spy construct droned on. Just a little farther.
“Another servant spoke about the rebellion, and wondered how long it would take them to get to Imperial . . .”
Another few steps. I caught a foot on the sticky web and had to bend to extricate it. Despite the cold of the cavern, sweat trickled down my scalp and behind my ears. I didn’t dare wipe it away. I was close to Ilith now, so close I could touch her. She smelled earthy and faintly of mold. Her carapace was thick and shiny. I hovered a hand over it. Would it give the way the other constructs’ flesh had? Or would my fingers just bounce against it?
“And on my way here, I saw Lin Sukai in the passages.”
Ilith stopped writing. She set down her pens and rose, her body rising from the floor. “Lin Sukai? How far into the passages?”
The Bone Shard Daughter: The Drowning Empire Book One Page 28
