Trinity of Bones

by Caitlin Seal

  Naya sighed, setting aside the glass bird, and retrieved her father’s logbook and her notes on the cipher. Valn was still her strongest lead. But unless she got lucky, she wouldn’t get the chance to speak to him until the Congress brought him forward for his trial.

  After about an hour, her eyes caught on one of the longer entries in the logbook.

  V says he found a solution to our funding problems. Good news. My accounts are running low and it seems every week V’s requirements grow. Am relieved that the plan will not slow, but V’s secrecy is concerning. Wouldn’t reveal anything about our new ally. Whoever it is must be wealthy and very well connected. V thinks we can accelerate the plan, and tensions in the city suggest his influence is growing. Can see the hunger in his eyes when he speaks. Knew going in that his motives were tainted, but I fear this new “ally” has stoked his ambitions even further. Who else could have such an interest in our cause? Why does he keep their identity a secret? Does he doubt my loyalty?

  Naya flipped forward and skimmed a few more entries.

  Resurgence. Is it the code name of a person, or a group? Either way, suspect this is the source of V’s new funding and confidence.

  She found two more mentions of Resurgence, the second dated just a little before she and her father had last sailed to Ceramor. Whoever or whatever it was, it seemed to have been key in establishing the network of spies and bribed officials Valn had tried to use to take over Ceramor. There were more hints throughout the journal about her father’s growing suspicions. He’d mistrusted Valn’s new allies and suspected the ambassador was trying to isolate him from the core of the plan he’d helped build.

  He’d been at least partially right. Valn had lied to her father about his plans for Naya, and her father’s writings gave no hint that he’d known about the war runes or Lucia. Naya tapped her pen against the desk. Resurgence. Would Queen Lial recognize that name, or Delence? The queen had seemed certain that Valn’s finances could be used to track his allies. If Resurgence was the source of those funds, then perhaps it also held the key to finding Lucia’s journals.

  Naya tucked the logbook away in her desk, then gathered up her notes and her satchel and headed back out into the hall. She had to figure out what the name meant.

  The others still hadn’t returned, but Naya could sense aether coming from the rooms assigned to Lucia. She wasn’t surprised to find Lucia hadn’t gone to the meeting. Even if the delegates would have welcomed the opinions of a necromancer, which Naya very much doubted, Lucia had no stomach for politics. She hadn’t even attended the queen’s feast.

  Lucia opened the door at Naya’s knock. “Is the meeting over already?” she asked as she stood aside to let Naya into her rooms.

  Naya shook her head. “I didn’t go. Queen Lial sent someone to summon me just before it started.”

  Lucia pushed her glasses up her nose. “Well, that’s surprising. You seem to have come out of it unharmed at least. What did she want from you?”

  “Information, I think. Anyway, that’s not why I came.” She quickly explained what she’d found in the logbook.

  “Interesting,” Lucia said, her voice musing. “I’ve never heard of anyone calling themselves Resurgence. But if such a group was funding Valn, then it suggests he really didn’t have the support of the throne. Why go to them if he could draw funds from Queen Lial’s treasury?”

  “Maybe,” Naya said, frustrated. “Or Resurgence was just a code name Valn used to hide the identity of his government contacts.”

  Lucia’s brow wrinkled. “Hmm.”

  “What?” Naya asked.

  Lucia shook her head. “I think we’re looking at this wrong. I’ve been trying to imagine who in Talmir would have had both the means and the incentive to recover my journals. It would have been risky, and it wasn’t as though they could have expected to use the runes for anything once they had them. Unless…” Lucia trailed off, her expression growing distant.

  “Unless what?”

  Lucia paced between the window and the door. “How much do you know about the creation of the wraith eaters?”

  “Not much,” Naya admitted.

  Lucia nodded. “Wraith eaters only started appearing near the end of the Mad King’s War. By then, the Talmiran rune scribes had been experimenting on captured undead for months, searching for a more effective way to kill them.”

  “That’s awful,” Naya said with a shudder.

  Lucia’s expression turned sad. “Yes. But maybe no more so than some of the things we did while searching for ways to resurrect more powerful undead.” She was silent for a moment, her eyes distant and her aether dark.

  Naya reached out and touched her hand, unsure what to say to offer comfort. Lucia had barely ever spoken of her time as an apprentice necromancer during the Mad King’s War. But whatever Lucia had done or seen, she’d come out of it with a conviction to use necromancy for the good of others. Naya squeezed Lucia’s hand, trying to convey through touch what she couldn’t put into words.

  Lucia started, then looked down at Naya’s hand and offered her a strained smile. “But that was all long ago,” she said with forced cheer. “Anyway, my point was that the Talmirans only learned to defeat the undead by studying necromancy themselves. And if you look at the bindings on a wraith eater, it’s clear they rely on some of the same rune combinations we use for necromantic portals. Perhaps when the purges began, the Talmiran rune scribes decided to save some of the necromantic works they were supposed to destroy. There were plenty of people who thought the peace wouldn’t last, and having access to those works would have made it easier to develop new weapons against the undead.”

  Naya grimaced. The wraith eaters were bad enough. She didn’t want to think about what other weapons Talmir might have developed in secret preparation for another war. “If the scribes were involved, then any works they preserved would likely be somewhere in the Academy of Magics.” The academy stood at the heart of all Talmiran magic. Only rune scribes trained and registered there could make and sell runic devices in Talmir. Naya’s heart sank as she thought about the imposing walls that surrounded the academy’s complex. “If that’s the case, I don’t know how we’ll find your journals. It’s not as though I can just show up at the academy gates and ask the scribes if they’re hiding any forbidden texts on necromancy.”

  “Could you break in?” Lucia asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe? Even then I wouldn’t know where to start looking.” She had no idea what sort of defenses the academy might have. And Delence had said the Talmirans would be watching her closely. They’d only grow more suspicious if she tried to leave the palace.

  They sat in silence. Eventually Naya shook her head. “This is all just speculation. I want to talk to Valn again before we make any plans. If I can ask him about Resurgence, maybe I can finally get some real answers.”

  Lucia pursed her lips. “Do you have a plan?”

  Naya shook her head. “I’m still working on it. But wherever he is, they’ll have to bring him out for the trial. I’ll find a way to speak to him then.”

  Corten sat on a stack of coiled rope with his back against the Gull’s mainmast. Beside him, Servala leaned on the port rail with her head tilted up and a smile on her lips. Darkness still lurked all around them, but the ship’s aether lamps made it feel less oppressive than before.

  Servala snapped her fingers. “Okay, next question. What’d you do for fun back in life?”

  Corten shrugged. “I don’t know. I used to study a lot.”

  “Studying is not fun,” Servala said with a look of disgust.

  Corten laughed. “It is if the books are interesting enough.” He thought for a moment. “When I was younger, my brother and I would sometimes go swimming in a river by our house. After I moved to Belavine, I made friends with a few other necromancers and apprentices who would play cards together at the Bitter Dregs.
And some nights I would climb up on the rooftops and watch the stars.”

  “I used to swim and play cards back with the Gull’s old crew,” Servala said. “Stars are useful enough for navigating, but just looking at them doesn’t sound like much fun.”

  “I guess it depends on the company,” Corten said, remembering the soft smile that would spread across Naya’s face as she stared up at the sky.

  Servala leaned forward. “Company, eh? And who’s this lucky lad or lass who’s got you looking all dewy?”

  Corten’s face flushed. “Her name’s Naya. But anyway, what about you? What did you do for fun?”

  “Nope,” Servala said with a grin. “My ship. I’m the one who gets to ask the questions, remember? So this Naya, you miss her, huh?”

  “Of course I do,” Corten said uneasily. Servala’s questions were starting to sound more like demands.

  “Well, maybe she’ll show up here someday.”

  “Don’t say that!” Corten snapped, surprised by the sudden heat in his voice.

  Servala’s eyes widened, then her expression hardened into anger. “You don’t tell me what to do, boy, not here.” The aether lamps flickered and the darkness surrounding the ship inched a little closer.

  Corten shivered. “Sorry. Can we just talk about something else? I don’t like thinking about her here.” If Naya showed up here it would mean she’d died again. A part of him whispered that maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. They’d be together. They could face the questions of the door together, just like they’d faced so many other dangers back in Belavine.

  Corten clenched his fists, trying to drive the desire away. He didn’t want Naya dead. He didn’t want to see her again just to drag her through the door to that final death. He took several deep breaths, then looked up. Around him the aether lamps had brightened again, and Servala was smiling as though nothing had happened.

  “Sure. Let’s talk about something else,” she said.

  Corten tried to return her smile, but his unease continued to grow. He was beginning to suspect that Servala’s ship wasn’t the haven it had first seemed. Still, if she was mad, then her madness had to be better than that of the souls standing transfixed by the doorway. The conversation continued as Corten answered Servala’s seemingly endless questions about the living world. Though she listened attentively to Corten’s account of Valn’s plots and the plight of the necromancers in Ceramor, her real interest clearly lay in the mundane details of day-to-day life. As Corten talked, he could feel the ship changing subtly around them. He described the bakery near Matius’s shop, and a moment later the smells of fresh bread and cinnamon wafted across the deck of the ship. When he told Servala about the city’s architecture, splashes of brighter color and carvings of vines appeared along the ship’s railings.

  The little touches of home bleeding into his surroundings should have been a comfort. Instead they left Corten feeling more unnerved than ever. The changes were a reminder that this place was little more than a fantasy.

  “I’m running out of things to say,” Corten said, trying to make the comment sound light. In truth, he felt as he had walking toward the door, as if something vital were trickling away from him with each story he told.

  “I’m sure you can think of more,” Servala said. “What about your brother? You’ve barely talked about him. Or this Naya girl. Tell me what she’s like. Is she pretty? Did you two…” Servala trailed off and made a suggestive gesture with both hands.

  Heat crawled up Corten’s neck and into his face. “That’s none of your business.”

  Before Servala could respond, a gust of cold wind blasted across the deck of the ship. The rigging creaked, and in the distance Corten heard the howls of the scavengers echoing through the endless dark. “Corten Ballera!” a raspy voice called from beyond the ship.

  Servala turned in the direction of the voice. Her eyes narrowed. “Oh, him again.”

  Corten rushed to the ship’s railing. The shadow man stood just a few feet away, floating in the air above the dark waters. As Corten looked around, those waves seemed to blend into windswept grass, creating an impossible landscape that made his head ache.

  “So,” the shadow man said, “this is where you chose to hide.”

  “I’m not hiding,” Corten said.

  “No? Then what do you hope to achieve sitting here on the threshold with the mad and the lost? You have seen what this place does. Do you mean to become like Servala? Or are you just another fly for her web?”

  Corten’s grip on the railing tightened and a shiver of fear danced down his spine. “Don’t listen to him!” Servala said behind him. “That old bastard only ever wants one thing, and that’s to send us through the door.”

  “I’m not hiding,” Corten repeated. “And I’m not going through the door. I’m going to find a way back to life.”

  The shadow man shook his head. “There is no way back.”

  “Then I’ll make one!” Corten shouted. He felt something flickering inside him, a flame of determination that had all but gone out. His fear grew. Sitting here with Servala might feel safer than facing the darkness, but it wasn’t getting him any closer to his goals. And somehow he knew that if he waited too long, the flame inside him would die. He would become like all the others standing around the door—a husk.

  Corten turned and started walking across the deck. “Where are you going?” Servala asked, scrambling to her feet.

  “I don’t know yet,” Corten said.

  “You can’t leave!”

  Corten didn’t see her move, but suddenly Servala was standing in front of him. “Stay,” she said more softly, pressing her hand to his chest. “There’s nothing left to you out there. They’ve all forgotten you by now. But I won’t forget you. Stay with me, and we can make our own world.” Her features flickered, her hair tumbling into brown curls and her face softening into almost familiar lines. Naya? Corten thought.

  His heart stuttered in his chest. He slapped Servala’s hand aside and stumbled away. “No!” The ship wavered and again he felt the crushing weight of darkness. But with it came realization. Are you just another fly for her web? “You said none of the others could see your ship,” Corten said. “That was a lie, wasn’t it?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Servala’s tone was still pleading. But now her eyes shifted with the desperate look of a cornered animal.

  Corten edged backward as the pieces clicked together in his mind. He’d felt increasingly exhausted as he’d talked to Servala, even as she’d grown more animated, more demanding in her questions. “You’ve been feeding off of me,” he said, and he knew from the flash of guilt in her eyes that it was true. Anger lent him a fresh burst of energy. “The others waiting by the door, how many of them are like that because of you? You’ve stolen something from them. Why? Just so you can keep waiting out here?”

  Servala flinched. “It isn’t like that!” she said. “I’ve only done what I had to. They were weak. I needed something to keep me going. You’ve felt the door’s pull. There’s something wrong with it. Everything about this place is wrong. I had to fight it. I had to keep myself strong.”

  Corten kept inching backward until he felt the press of the ship’s railing. Something brushed his leg and he looked down in horror as a thick length of rope snaked tight around his ankles, binding him. Servala took a step toward him, one hand outstretched. “Please, stay with me,” she begged. “You’re resilient, and you’re smart. I’ll teach you how to draw the energy. Maybe together we can even do what you said. We’ll sail the Gull away from here and find a way back into life.”

  Corten hesitated, feeling the allure of her offer twine round him like the rope. Escaping death wouldn’t be easy. He was deluding himself if he thought he had the strength to do it alone. Maybe this was the only way.

  “No,” Corten said through clenched teeth. “Not like
this.” He didn’t intend to give in to death, but he also couldn’t let himself become like her. The rope around his legs felt like a band of iron securing him to the deck. Servala’s face twisted with rage. She reached for him, and Corten was sure that if he let her touch him again, she would gobble up whatever spark of life was left in him. He reached down and grasped the rope, calling up memories of the relentless heat of the glassblowing furnaces he’d worked with for so many long hours. Curls of white smoke drifted up, then the rope burst into flames.

  Servala screamed as though she were the one burning. The rope went slack and Corten kicked it away. Servala lunged for him. The tips of her fingers brushed his shirt as he shoved himself up and back, his whole body screaming with terror as he plummeted over the rail and down, down toward the rolling waves below.

  Naya returned to her rooms after her conversation with Lucia. A few hours later, she sensed aether swirling outside her door and heard the murmur of excited voices. The meeting must finally be over. When she peeked out into the hall, she was surprised to find Francisco standing just outside with one hand raised to knock. He took a quick step back. “Good, you’re here. My father wants to speak with you,” he said.

  “Now?” Naya asked. She’d expected him to summon her, just not so quickly.

  “No, next week. Of course now.”

  Naya gave Francisco a flat look before following him toward his father’s rooms. His clothes weren’t so neat as they had been that morning, and his expression was distant.

  “Did something happen at the meeting?” Naya asked.