The Bone Witch

by Rin Chupeco

  I opened my mouth, but my witty rejoinder died at the sight of Prince Kance engaged in deep conversation with Princess Maeve, whose laughter was unmistakable despite the noisy chatter around us. She placed a hand on his arm and drew closer so that her head hovered over his shoulder.

  I forced myself to look away and stared hard at the stage where an old woman was performing the Rise of the Sea Foam in jerky, half-remembered steps.

  “I met a girl once when I was in the army,” Fox said. “Her name was Gisabelle, and she was from Tresea. She was the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, with the lightest yellow hair and the most fetching blue eyes. Her brother was a fellow soldier in the same regiment I was in, and because we were stationed for three months in Batlovo, their hometown, she visited us often. It took me two weeks to work up the nerve to ask her out. I finally made up my mind one day and bought flowers from the local florist—only to come across her kissing Maharven—another fellow soldier but someone I had disliked long before. I was depressed for weeks—”

  “Fox, your romances with Tresean girls are the last thing I want to think about.”

  “But you should. It was difficult to see them together, especially when Gisabelle had no idea how I felt. Especially because Maharven was a rot, you see. Drank too much and could be nasty to the locals if he thought they were beneath him—he had some royal Daanorian blood on his mother’s side, or so he claimed. But I couldn’t. I had a motive for seeing them apart, and she would know it if I broke them up, however good my reason would be.”

  I watched Fox out of the corner of my eye. He too stared straight ahead, at the now-empty stage.

  “It got better when we had to leave, and I didn’t see her as much. But from time to time, Maharven would get a letter from her, and I would feel jealous all the same. Just because I didn’t see her as often didn’t mean I didn’t forget.”

  “But it’s difficult all the same.”

  “It wouldn’t be natural if it wasn’t difficult.” He reached over and tapped at my heartsglass. “Just remember what Lilac had always told us, what Lady Mykaela always tells you.” And then his eyes widened, and he bit back a curse.

  I turned to follow his gaze and spotted a familiar-looking girl now seated between Prince Kance and Empress Alyx. Prince Kance immediately turned to her, and it was obvious that Princess Maeve was not pleased. It took me a moment to remember where I first saw her, another second more to realize who she was. While I was taught to recognize the semireclusive Empress Alyx by face, my lessons did not provide as much emphasis on her children.

  “The girl you were arguing with at the castle.” I gasped. “You’ve been fighting with Princess Inessa?”

  Fox blushed for the first time since we entered Kion. “It’s complicated. I didn’t realize who she was. I thought she was just another—”

  “Didn’t realize? Fox, are you hearing yourself?”

  “It was a misunderstanding. I was hoping she wouldn’t be here—”

  “Of course she is,” I said, echoing his previous words. “Even the czar of Tresea has come to watch—if that really is the czar. I can’t tell underneath all that fur.”

  Fox glared at me, but the drumming began. The rhythm was not a part of the main asha performance. People craned their heads to look, puzzled. And it was then that Likh danced into view.

  Rahim and Chesh had outdone themselves. The young boy wore a black hua with white roses that had gold-rimmed petals, and a modest copper-colored wrap. A crown of white roses circled his head, weaving into his long tresses. Likh was dancing the Fox Spirit’s Song, where a beautiful fox demon was caught by hunters and forced to dance in order to gain her release. It was a second-tier piece I had watched other asha rehearse several times before but was not yet cleared to do myself. How had Likh learned this?

  The boy pirouetted and extended out a hand. Fire sprung to life, settled against his palm. The audience gasped and Likh withdrew, leaving it suspended on nothing, and drew another Fire rune at the next corner, repeating the movements until he was surrounded by balls of steady flames, licking at the air like candlelight.

  “Likh didn’t tell us he was going to do that,” I muttered. It was one thing to dance like an asha, but to show them you could draw runes too was inviting trouble. They were going to seek him out afterward, and the boy knew it.

  “Now you know how we feel every time you do something you neglect to tell us.” Fox was amused, to my irritation.

  A hush fell over the audience as Likh completed the dance, balancing himself on one leg while the other remained poised in the air on his left. When he finally sank down to the ground, extinguishing the balls of fire as he did, the applause was deafening. Likh’s solemn demeanor disappeared, and he turned red. Chesh was already hurrying forward, her face beaming, to help the boy off the stage.

  “I have a good feeling about this,” I whispered gleefully to Fox.

  “I hope you’re right,” my brother whispered back. “They might like him now, but opinions may shift later.”

  “You’re a spoilsport, you know that?” I would have added more, but the torches flickering around the stage dimmed—the play was about to begin.

  For the dance, the asha wore floor-length sleeves and full-body overcoats that opened at the front to expose silky inner garments, accentuated by hints of bosom. Asha played both male and female roles; the former’s clothes were not as ornate, with scarves around their necks as long as the women’s sleeves but with shorter coats and trousers. The magic emanating from them was overpowering—my hairpins, created to withstand the worst of what the city could offer, tingled from the surplus. And with every additional garment the asha wore, the greater the potential for higher magic stitched into the cloth.

  The dance itself was as old as the lands, as ancient as people remembered time. The villagers of Knightscross knew the story, acted it out in simple plays during the winter solstice. But paper masks and sticks were nothing against art in its fullest flavor, under the watchful eyes of rich patrons.

  The asha chorus had soft voices, but their words carried effortlessly.

  “In the beginning, Blade that Soars. In the beginning, Dancing Wind.”

  Two people danced into the center of the room; Lady Shadi wore an eye mask of unparalleled beauty, with tiny diamonds that encircled her eyes and golden agates that rounded out the corners of the cloth, set in stone along a profusion of sapphires and rubies. But the greatest of her treasures was a brilliant diamond around her neck, set inside a heartsglass case. Black onyx lined the man’s mask, deepening the hollows of his cheeks and smoothing out the sternness of his chin. The woman tilted her hand up, a coquettish movement, and the man accepted.

  “They ruled the sky as far as the wind took breath, the lands as wide as the ground held sand and soil, the seas as fathomless as their darkest depths. The god cloaked his lover in moonlight and wove stars into her hair. He gave her the brightest and most beautiful of gemstones, worn on her graceful neck. Magic flourished in abundance, runeberries plump and primed.”

  Two more dancers entered. The second man wore an eye mask of midnight black; rubies and sunstones painted his brow. The second woman wore a strange combination of moonstones and black pearl. While Lady Shadi wore a magnificent array of colors, Zoya’s was a muted enterprise of black and gray.

  “But not all creatures were happy. The god’s brother was Hollow Knife; the god’s beloved, a sister named Little Tears. Hollow Knife resented his brother, for the people loved Blade that Soars, and the younger sibling desired his influence. Little Tears too loved Blade that Soars and hated her sister.” The newcomers began their own dance—fierce, angry gestures.

  “Hollow Knife came to Blade that Soars and said, ‘Brother, keeper of the winds and crown of the world, we are of one blood and of one purpose, with no secrets between us. I ask, where does your heart keep?’”

  The asha in the
rubies-and-sunstone mask minced around the onyx-gilded dancer, a crafty satyr encircling his unwitting prey.

  “And Blade that Soars told him, ‘Inside the egg of a nest in the highest tree in the peak of the highest mountain, guarded by twelve rocs and twelve eagles as large as the sun and as swift as the fastest rivers. It is there, and only there, I keep my heart.’

  “And so Hollow Knife traveled to the mountain. He slew a dozen rocs and a dozen eagles, but when he reached into the nest to claim its prize, he saw it was only a normal egg, round and black speckled.

  “And Blade that Soars berated him, saying, ‘Why do you seek to unman me, Brother? My fields I have given freely, and my waters you can drink your fill. Do not seek what is not yours to take, for the world will suffer.’

  “‘Forgive me, my brother,’ Hollow Knife groveled.” And the dancer bent gracefully on one foot, her body straight as an arrow, muscles straining against her weight. “‘I only meant to see for myself that it was true, all the better to protect you from harm. But it is not right to lie to your own kin, I, who have only your best interests in mind.’ And so Blade that Soars relented and forgave him his treachery.

  “After some time had passed, Hollow Knife came once more to Blade that Soars and said, ‘Brother, bearer of light and eye of the storm. We are of one blood and of one purpose, with no secrets between us. I ask, where does your heart keep?’

  “And Blade that Soars told him, ‘Inside the belly of a fish swimming in the lowest reaches of the deepest sea, guarded by twelve sharks and twelve kraken as large as the moon and as fierce as the hottest fires. It is there, and only there, I keep my heart.’

  “And so Hollow Knife traveled to the nethermost sea. He slew a dozen sharks and a dozen kraken, but when he took the fish to claim his prize, he saw that it was only a normal fish, small and white tailed.

  “And Blade that Soars berated him, saying, ‘Why do you seek to unman me, Brother? My crops I have harvested for your care, and my animals I sacrifice for your meat. Do not seek what is not yours to take, for the world will suffer.’

  “‘Forgive me, my brother,’ Hollow Knife groveled. ‘I only meant to see for myself that it was true, all the better to protect you from harm. But it is not right to lie to your own kin, I, who have only your best interests in mind.’ And again Blade that Soars relented and forgave him his treachery.

  “More time passed, and Hollow Knife came to Blade that Soars one final time. ‘Brother, guardian of man and soul of the heavens, we are of one blood and of one purpose, and with no secrets between us. I ask, where does your heart keep?’

  “And Blade that Soars told him, ‘We are of one blood and of one purpose; there are no secrets between us. On the pendant that hangs around Dancing Wind’s neck, from where shines the brightest light of the world. It is there, and only there, I keep my heart.’

  “And so Hollow Knife sought out Little Tears and told her, ‘If you wish to own my brother’s heart, then you must do as I say. It lies within the heartsglass your sister wears. You must take it from her in the dead of night when she lies sleeping, when they are weak and unaware.’

  “And so Little Tears, driven by jealousy, did as he ordered. In the thick of darkness, with only the light of the moon to guide her, she stole into the tent where her sister lay fast asleep. With deft fingers, she took the heartsglass and drew it over her head, and Dancing Wind, oblivious, slept soundly on.

  “But Hollow Knife lay in wait, and when Little Tears emerged from the tent with the precious heart in her hand, he knocked her down and claimed the jewel for his own. With great and terrible force, he dashed the heart into the ground, and the beautiful gem shattered into countless pieces.

  “A cry came from every creature in the land, for they felt their creator die and their hearts along with him. Dancing Wind woke, but she was too late, for her lover lay dead beside her, and Hollow Knife’s betrayal was complete.”

  The dancer with the diamond-encrusted mask sank to her knees beside her partner’s unmoving form, and the next dance she performed was slow and heavy with sorrow but no less graceful for it.

  “Hollow Knife wrested control. He gathered followers and infected them with his taint. He gave to himself instead of giving back to the sea and sky and lands, and the world suffered. He joined his heartsglass with the remains of Blade that Soars and crafted a new, beautiful heartsglass that was as dark as shadows and ruin. With it, he created the daeva, worst of beasts; monsters whose grotesque forms mirrored his own heart. They blotted out the sun and turned the world into endless night, and the people wailed in terror and anguish. Among them, Hollow Knife ruled, laughing, as the False Prince.

  “But Dancing Wind was unbroken. ‘Help me, Little Tears,’ she implored her sister. ‘Help me gather Blade that Soars’ heart so I can make him whole.’

  “‘It is an impossible task’ was her cruel reply. ‘There are more pieces of his heart than there are stars in the sky and grains of sand on the ground—that is one. To repair it, you must give of yourself that which had been lost—that is another. And if you restore his heart, he will return only to you. I would rather we both spend eternity alone and grieving than to watch another instant of him in arms that are not mine. That is the last.’

  “And so it was Dancing Wind who hid herself in the caves and, alone, began her task. Slowly and carefully, she pieced together the remains of Blade that Soars. But the heart was only half its original size, for Hollow Knife had usurped the rest. And so she gave half of her own heart to its making, so that the light inside flared once more, and Blade that Soars opened his eyes again, newly resurrected. Dancing Wind’s sacrifice had made their heartsglass like one, so that Blade that Soars wore hers and she wore his.

  “And so the god rose from his grave and smote that false prince, Hollow Knife, and took back his lands and his seas and his skies.”

  The man in the black onyx mask stood and began a series of complicated dances with the woman in diamonds, moving faster until the sleeves of their robes were a blur, their steps light and quick despite the heaviness of their hua. The man in the sunstone mask reeled back with every spin, retreating into the shadows of the stage. As one, Blade that Soars and Dancing Wind struck out at him, and a very real puff of fire erupted from their fingers. The stage erupted into flames. There were gasps from the onlookers. But just as quickly, the fire was doused, and among the rising smoke, we could see that Hollow Knife was gone.

  “But the False Prince cursed the world. Now none of the fields could seed magic. Now all the world’s creatures lay stricken with death and disease. His followers hid, swearing their vengeance against the god who had so smote their master. And all were lessened as a consequence.

  “And so Blade that Soars took his heart, strengthened by the love of Dancing Wind, and broke it into three parts. The first he buried in the soil, so that the fields could once more grow with magic. But because it was only a third of his heart, not all the land took hold, and so runeberries grew with lesser abundance.

  “The second he gave to his creatures to heal their sickness. But because it was only a third of his heart, death and pestilence could not be cured completely, and so they shall always remain afflicted.

  “The third he kept for himself. And it was here that Blade that Soars became the first of the heartforgers.

  “But despite his treachery, he could not find it in his heart to kill his brother. Instead, he banished Hollow Knife to the underworld, where he was to wander among the ruins of the dead for all eternity.

  “And Little Tears fell to her knees before Dancing Wind. ‘Forgive me, dear sister,’ she moaned. ‘It was Hollow Knife who bewitched my mind against you. I would not go against you for all the world.’

  “And Dancing Wind’s heart was heavy when she replied, ‘You mocked me and sent me away. You are no better than Hollow Knife, and given the chance to do harm to me and Blade that Soars, you shall do
so again. I will not banish you from the world as Hollow Knife has been banished, but no longer will you be able to use life’s magic for your own—that is one. You preferred Blade that Soars dead in your arms than alive to my touch; henceforth, your influence shall be limited to the ways of the Dark and of the dead—that is another. And you will never be able to give your heart away, like I joined mine to his, without taking most of your strength and your power. In this way, you will learn what it is like to be completely and utterly alone. That is the last.’”

  The asha dancer in her gown of white and gray, with her mask of moonstones and black pearls, cowered back from her sister, swept a hand up to shield her face, and crept away from the stage.

  “And Little Tears, the first Dark asha, fled but never could she escape her sister’s curse.”

  There was a long pause. All the actors onstage remained still, and a nervous titter ran through the crowd.

  “What’s going on?” a novice on my right whispered, puzzled.

  “Lady Brijette was supposed to enter,” another girl hissed, clearly a veteran. “She’s missed her cue!”

  “Silence!” One of the older asha thundered at us, though it was no use. People began to murmur among themselves. The other dancers onstage, trained not to react when mistakes were made, waited patiently for one of their own that never came.

  Instead, a loud keening shrillness ripped through the air, and a daeva of gigantic proportions burst through the ground before us, inches away from the stage.

  The asha paused. Above us, bones of dead monsters creaked in the wind.

  “I learned one important thing at the darashi oyun. I learned that there was more to me than they first thought, that there was more to me than even I thought.”

  She drank from two more vials and raised two more daeva. From the bones, she called forth the long-tongued nanghait and the many-eyed zarich. The first was an abstract form given life, with a torso composed primarily of humps and legs. Its head was made of two faces, one forever looking forward and the other forever looking back, and it had a horned back, webbed feet, and bloodshot eyes. The second was a reptilian satyr that stood on its hind legs. Five horns sprung up from its forehead, but its face was elongated and furred, with a snout like those they call a “crocodile” that slither up and down the swamps of Yadosha but certainly horrifying to see in the cloven beast before me.