The Bone Witch

by Rin Chupeco

“Why not be an asha for a little while?”

  “You’re teasing me. In what way can I—”

  “The darashi oyun is coming up. The performances are not all strictly for asha. In the hours leading up to the main dance, the stage is open for all who’d like to participate. It’s what makes the darashi oyun special—they encourage people to take part, to experience being a part of the ceremony for themselves. It gives those who’ve been taking lessons a chance to join in, if informally.”

  “But only children perform there,” the boy protested. “It’s a chance for parents to show off their daughters, and the association encourages it. It’s easier to find gifted dancers that way, and I’m not.”

  “You’re forgetting that you’re barely thirteen and still a child yourself. And I can tell you’re lying. You can dance, can’t you?” I shot a pointed glance at his heartsglass, which was now peppered with blue ripples across the surface. “Have you been taking dancing lessons?” His heartsglass turned a beautiful cobalt blue, and my eyes widened. “Likh! You’ve been taking lessons?”

  “Some schools don’t require you to be asha to take them,” he said defensively.

  “I’m pretty sure they require you to be female though,” Fox said.

  “You didn’t!” I gasped as his heartsglass flowered into a deeper indigo.

  Likh grinned sheepishly. “I wore a few spells to disguise myself. Most of the students use them, so no one gave me a second look.”

  “I know that look she’s got on,” Fox said, watching my face. “You may not be in trouble right now, Likh, but I have a feeling Tea will gladly volunteer you for it.”

  “It’s not illegal,” I said. “And I’m helping out a friend. How much trouble could that be?”

  Fox saw it before I did. He leaped to his feet, and I caught a quick glance of the robed figure before it turned a corner and disappeared from view.

  “Stop!”

  My brother took off after it, and we abandoned our paloodeh to give chase. By the time we had caught up to him, the robed stranger had vanished from view.

  “Did you see him?” Fox demanded of a passing maid.

  “I saw nothing,” the girl said, thoroughly confused.

  “But you must have! He passed right by you!”

  “I’m sorry, milord, but I didn’t see anything.”

  “What’s going on?” Likh demanded.

  “Did you see him?”

  “I didn’t see anything.”

  “You saw him too?” I asked Fox.

  “Of course I did. I could sense it stalking us. It was looking at you, Tea.”

  I felt cold. “How could you tell? It was—it was dressed all in black, and it had a mask on.”

  “I’m not sure. I just know.”

  “I didn’t see anyone fitting that description,” Likh said. “Lots of people here wear Drychta clothing. What makes you think there was something wrong with this one?”

  “Because we shared one thing in common, at least,” Fox said grimly. “It had no shadow.”

  “I knew it was foolish to make Likh something that he was not, but I never did understand why the role of an asha was restricted to women alone. In the course of my wanderings, I have seen men who could be just as graceful as women. Men who, with the constant training we have had to endure, could perhaps rival even the likes of Lady Shadi. Are there any male dancers in Drycht?”

  “The royal court seemed to prefer the women more,” I said.

  “In a court of men, it is likely. But males are not the only people who can rule a realm. If women are encouraged to fight and draw runes and strive to be a man’s equal in those regard, then why can’t a man be encouraged to sing and dance and entertain as we do?”

  “In Drycht,” I admitted, “men consider such trivialities beneath them. The performing arts are not a show of strength. They are a sign of weakness.”

  “Then perhaps we should carve a world one day where the strength lies in who you are rather than in what they expect you to be.”

  15

  I heard that the Heartforger was in the Willows almost by accident. Chesh mentioned it only in passing when I visited her and Likh at the zivar shop. “The asha are abuzz with the news,” she told me, pinning a new selection of dovetail combs into my hair while Likh looked on. “They say he’s taking up lodgings for a couple of nights at the Snow Pyre, since he’s a close friend of its owner.”

  I was no stranger to the Heartforger’s work by then. Some of Lady Mykaela’s books talk about him in detail, including stunning illustrations of the heartsglass he forged over the years. He had discovered a cure for smallpox and spotted fever and was notorious for charging the wealthy exorbitant prices for his wares while giving them away to the poor at practically no cost. The book also went on to say that the Heartforger, like most heartforgers before him, had close ties to Dark asha, though they were never specific on the hows and whys of the relationship.

  “How long do you think he’ll be staying?” I asked, keeping my voice casual.

  Chesh shrugged. “No one knows. Perhaps a week but probably no longer than that. I don’t think he stays for too long in the Willows.”

  “I wonder what he plans to do here,” Likh mused, weaving gem-studded ribbons through my hair. “He hasn’t been to Kion in years. He dislikes both royalty and asha, and Ankyo has both in spades.”

  I didn’t know either, but I wanted to find out.

  • • •

  I was in a rebellious mood all that week; Mistress Parmina had grown impatient with my lack of progress with my singing skills and had decided banning sweets and cold drinks was the answer, to protect my throat. Looking back, it was probably a ridiculous excuse to break my curfew, but deprived of my favorite paloodeh, I was looking for a way to get back at Mistress Parmina. And I was curious: if heartforgers maintained close ties with Dark asha, I reasoned, then sneaking out to meet him was merely preemptively establishing the friendship.

  I wished I could say that Fox did his best to stop me, but he was just as curious about the Heartforger as I was. Mistress Parmina was already asleep, and everyone else had gone out. Only Kana had been taken into my confidence.

  “People tell me that this current heartforger is something of a recluse,” my brother said as we crept toward the Snow Pyre, making sure we didn’t meet anyone who would recognize us on the way. The night was warm, but I carried a paper umbrella behind me, which was perfect for shielding my face when people walked by. Fox had found a top hat, much to my amusement, and wore it over his eyes for the same reason. “He used to be friends with King Vanor, I believe—I think he even encouraged his romance with Lady Mykaela—but after the king shunned her, the Forger turned his back on the king too.”

  “Maybe he knows more about what went on between the king and Lady Mykaela.”

  “Are you going to ask?”

  I thought that over. “No. I think Lady Mykaela explained everything that she wanted me to know. I shouldn’t be nosy.”

  We turned a corner and nearly walked into Lord Kalen, who was standing by the entrance to the Snow Pyre. He didn’t look happy to see us. “What are you doing here?”

  “Ah—” I had been hoping to sneak in undetected. “We heard—we heard that the Heartforger was staying here.”

  “You can’t see him.”

  “And why not?”

  “He’s busy. Kance is with him.”

  I started. The prince is here too?

  “You may speak for your cousin,” Fox pointed out calmly, “but I don’t think you speak for the Forger. We’re perfectly willing to wait until their meeting ends if need be.”

  “And I’m perfectly willing to bet that you are once again sneaking out of your asha-ka without permission. Should I alert Mistress Parmina to your whereabouts?”

  “Good luck.” I managed to say this cheerfull
y, hiding my worry that he would make good on his threat. “She’s fast asleep at the Valerian. Once her eyes close, a parade marching through her room can’t wake her.”

  “Kalen? Is everything all right?” The door to one of the rooms slid open, and Prince Kance peered out. “Lady Tea?”

  It was one thing to stand up to Kalen, but it was another thing to have to explain myself to the prince. I faltered again. “Your Majesty, I was—”

  “Lady Tea?” I heard someone call out from inside the room. “Is it that Dark asha I keep hearing about? Send her in!”

  Kalen scowled but obeyed. Without another word, he ushered us into the room where Prince Kance was. Two others were with him, garbed in black cloaks that hid their faces, and I felt Fox tense up.

  Prince Kance smiled at me. “I’m glad we have the opportunity to meet again, Lady Tea. Good evening, Sir Fox.”

  “I am s-so sorry,” I stammered. “The last time we met—I was—”

  “No apologies are necessary. Lady Mykaela explained everything to me. I’m glad to see you have fully recovered. This is the Heartforger, Lady Tea. We’ve just been talking about you as a matter of fact.”

  The shorter of the two robed men took off his hood. He was easily the oldest man I had ever seen, even older than Mistress Parmina. He had a face like a shriveled monkey that had been shorn of all hair, and he did not appear to have any eyebrows at all. He took off the rest of his cloak, and his heartsglass caught my eye. It swung free, a bright, shiny silver.

  “Well,” he said, “His Highness here is an old friend, and with his help, I was able to get inside the Willows without the customary fanfare they like to play to announce my presence. Seems you don’t like playing by the rules either, little girl. I was going to send for you anyway, but no time like the present, eh? You’re scrawnier than I thought you would be.”

  I gaped at him and then at his companion, who was also removing his cloak. He was a younger boy my age, with sleepy, gray eyes, nearly colorless hair as to appear white, and a silver-colored heartsglass similar to the Forger. He lifted a hand up to smooth his hair back and accidentally knocked off his spectacles. “Sorry,” he apologized to the table. I couldn’t shake off the suspicion that I’d seen him somewhere before.

  “They said you despise royalty,” Fox said.

  “Not all of them, no. But I hope they believe it. I started the rumors myself.”

  “But why?”

  The Heartforger coughed and spent several minutes clearing his throat. Kalen looked away, and even Prince Kance looked a little nervous, his heartsglass flicking from red to cornflower blue. Only the Forger’s assistant remained serene, sipping at his tea.

  “Circumstances permit me to be more favorable toward the Odalian royal house,” the Heartforger finally said. “They are my patrons of a sort.”

  “You were going to send for me?” I managed.

  “I make it a point to meet every Dark asha they find. I don’t know how much Lady Mykaela has told you about us, but we share what you might call a mutually beneficial relationship.” He peered up at Fox. “Not every day I get to see a familiar either. Few Dark asha keep them—need strength to have ’em. You don’t feel lightheaded, Tea?”

  “I feel fine,” I said.

  The younger boy looked interested, hopping up to circle Fox, studying him carefully. Fox bore the scrutiny with quiet good humor.

  “She told me that you despised asha too,” I continued.

  “We can despise someone and still maintain a mutually beneficial relationship. Mutual beneficence, you see, usually trumps everything else. But I take an exception when it comes to bone witches. It is only fair to have some empathy for a class that is despised even more than your own. This boy here is my assistant and successor, for lack of better options.”

  “Hello,” the boy said. “I hope you don’t mind, Mister Fox, but can I examine your chest for a moment?”

  “What?”

  “It’s where the wound is, isn’t it?”

  After a moment’s pause, Fox shrugged and pulled up his shirt, where the savul’s claws had done their work. The boy rubbed his chin. “It’s not healed yet.”

  “My body hasn’t been in a condition to heal for a long time,” Fox said.

  “You haven’t been blooded yet?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Is there something wrong with Fox, er…” I remembered belatedly that heartforgers no longer took personal names of their own.

  “Call him Junior. Someone has to.” The Forger looked me over. “Your mentor, Lady Mykaela, serves as one of the main suppliers of my craft, and as thanks, I try to get to know her charges better. You are her first and only longstanding apprentice, and so I am forced to make good on my promise.”

  The Forger produced a few small bottles from a bag around his waist. They all appeared empty. “Choose one.”

  Hesitant, I selected a green one.

  “Remove the stopper. Carefully.”

  —the sounds of children laughing and at play, the sensation of running through grass—

  The Forger’s gnarled fingers closed over mine, shifting the stopper back into place.

  “What was that?” I sputtered.

  “Happiness.” The Forger tapped at the bottle and took a small sniff to ensure it was sealed again. “At least, how happiness is defined if you’re a young mother with three small children. I collect memories like these in the course of my work.”

  “But why?”

  “I am called the Heartforger for a reason, girl. To make a heart, you need memories. There are many people who trade them in for a little cash to spare. Try this one—”

  Watching a tiny casket lower into the grave, weeping as the first shovelful of dirt is poured into the grave—

  “Sadness is a popular commodity to sell,” the Forger said, stoppering the bottle again. “And it is a common ingredient in my work, so fortunately the supply rarely outstrips the demand. People are more willing to forget what makes them sad instead of what makes them happy. But happiness? Happiness pays very well. If it’s a strong enough memory, it comes back over time—several years on average. But few people are willing to part with it, despite the financial compensation. It is not something you can easily put a price on. And then there are certain kinds of memories I require from asha, from those with silver heartsglass. Dark asha are especially strong and potent. That’s where you come in. Will you?”

  “Will I what?”

  “Supply me with memories?” He grinned at the face I made. “I never grow tired of seeing that look on your faces when I ask. You don’t forget them, of course. We’ve got silver heartsglass for a reason. Our hearts can rarely be replaced, but the upside is keeping our memories intact, no matter how much of them I draw out. We don’t forget. Can’t tell if that’s a blessing or a curse most days. You’ll feel a bit out of sorts for a week, but you’ll be all right. In exchange, I give you information. My customers make up the bulk of the city, all cities.”

  “I would be honored to do all I can to help you. But what kind of hearts do you make?”

  “Difficult hearts, of course. The money I earn from forging one heart can keep me fed and clothed for a couple of years. The nobles can afford it. All the backstabbing and politics and scheming, I imagine, having their hearts taken away by some rivals and such. They’ll want a new heart quick for that before they go completely in someone else’s power. Once I get a new heart ready, the old heart stops working, you see, becomes worthless in enemy hands. I’ve got hearts in reserve, primed for the day some nobleman loses his heart to someone out for his blood and needs an immediate replacement. They lead very exhilarating lives is all I can say.”

  “But can’t you do the same thing for Lady Mykaela?”

  “Ah, yes. Missing her own heart too, isn’t she? Dark asha hearts are more complicated than your commonp
lace weaselly backward politician. Too many rare ingredients to find, too expensive. There’s still three or four key things missing from your mentor, and she’s been hunting for years. Memories from breaking free of a possession—that’s difficult enough to find. Memories of a False follower, a Faceless committing—well, committing False follower atrocities—that’s even more difficult, considering how secretive they are, how they’d rather die than be taken alive, and how you’d still require their permission. No, Tea, I think Mykaela will have to resign herself to a lack of heartsglass. She’s been doing well without one so far. As no one knows where King Vanor had it hidden, I suppose it’s a good compromise, even if it isn’t the compromise she wanted.” The Forger cuffed Junior lightly on the back of his head. “Say something, idiot.”

  “I’m making a heart for an old man,” the boy said amiably. “Growing dementia.”

  “I’ll try to make as many visits here as I can,” the Forger said. “But usually Junior here does the extracting for me. I won’t be around when you’re older, given my age—don’t give me that vile ‘but you’ll live to be a hundred’ speech,” he added when I opened my mouth. “I am a hundred. I won’t be here forever, and Junior’s slow on the uptake but good enough with his hands to work the forge. You’ll be the primary Dark asha when I pass on the title to him, so I expect you to keep him out of trouble. Damn fool’s got a bleeding heart of his own, would build hearts for anyone who asked if they cried hard enough.”

  “But is that necessarily a bad thing?” Prince Kance asked.

  “In this business, it is.”

  “That doesn’t strike me as a fair trade,” Fox pointed out. “You get her memories, and all she gets is information?”

  “True enough.” The Heartforger reached into the folds of his robe and produced a polished white stone no bigger than my thumb. “Lady Mykaela turned over to me a certain seeking stone used one summer night a few months ago. I destroyed the parts I didn’t need, wove my brand of magic on what remained, and feel it only appropriate for you to receive this.”

  “Why?”