Dagger of Bone

by R. K. Thorne

  He snorted. “So Andius can have the blade and be clan leader too? Not likely. Did you really think I would?”

  “I didn’t think so. But you never know, one can always be wrong. Anyway, I mentioned it today… because it was the Bone Dragon who told me about magical locks.”

  He stared at her. “Really? You can talk to it?”

  “Her, and yes. She won’t stop talking half the time.”

  A low growl sounded in his head once again.

  “Hush,” Lara said to the air. “I’m just kidding.”

  “Did she have any advice on the lock? If it’s truly real?”

  I can offer no advice.

  Nyalin’s eyes widened.

  “Is she talking to you too now?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  We would need to know more about how the lock was created in order to break it. But I have inspected you, child of Linali, and there is definitely a lock preventing you from reaching most magical sources.

  “Wow.” He caught Lara’s eye and grabbed her hand again. “That’s wonderful. Finally something solid, a clue I can work on.”

  “You don’t think I’m awful for taking the dagger?”

  “I think they’re awful for putting you in this position, and that’s it. And it sure helps me that you’re talking to her now. I’m sure Andius wouldn’t ask the great dragon questions on my behalf.”

  The dragon snorted a sulfurous puff into his mind. And if he asked, I wouldn’t answer anyway.

  Lara rolled her eyes.

  “Besides,” Nyalin continued. “It’s not like you have a lot of options. Your brother would have had options, right?”

  He almost missed the glimmer of a tear in her eye as she smiled. She squeezed his hand and let it go. Then she covered the dagger and pushed it back under the bed.

  He eyed her for a moment longer. “You know, I knew you were brave. But I had no idea.”

  Her cheeks flushed, bright round twin spots. “No, I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “What are you going to do about the lock now?”

  “I’m going to talk to the emperor.”

  Chapter 13

  Sort of Dead

  Dawn had barely tinged the sky with light when Nyalin set out into the city. The Contests would start at noon, as soon as the sun hit its zenith and the gong rang. He needed to track down the emperor before then.

  Of course, that was easier said than done. The emperor had written to delay their usual lunch meeting, and Nyalin had been so caught up in preparing for the Contests that he hadn’t thought anything of it.

  He did make a stop at the graveyard first, though. He was never sure why, but perhaps this time it was for luck. Maybe he’d been in the Bone Clan too long, focusing on luck at a time like this.

  He cleared away wilting flowers from the cool stone, knelt in the small prayer square, bowed his head, and sat for a long moment.

  “I’m trying,” he whispered. “But I’m not sure about any of this.”

  Of course, no answer came.

  The emperor’s palace wasn’t somewhere he’d visited often. He’d come there to receive his gems as a young Obsidian—the same ones he’d traded to Cerivil for his Bone Clan ones. Maybe there had been a festival or two? It couldn’t have been more times than fingers on his hand.

  Still, he pretended complete comfort with the idea and marched inside the large, beautiful arches. The walls were covered with blue and white tiles, and the fountain in the center featured six dragons spouting water in various artful directions.

  He stopped and looked around. Was he too early? There was no one here.

  As if materializing out of thin air, a woman in glorious azure appeared, the fabric draping around her instead of crossed and belted in the usual style. Her skin was olive too but darker than his, and a birthmark was dotted under one eye.

  He spoke up quickly, before she could. “Pardon me, but I need to speak with the emperor.”

  She bowed her head briefly in acknowledgment, and when she spoke, her voice was sweet and excessively polite. “Petitioners’ hours begin at the afternoon’s gong, young one. We must—”

  “Please. I can’t wait. I must see him. It’s urgent.”

  “What details can I carry to his advisors to explain the urgency?”

  She seemed earnest, but he froze. He didn’t even want to explain the true urgency to Pavan. Oh, I’m planning to cheat like hell to win one of the clan’s Contests in a few hours, but you know it’d be really great if I could not do that, so just on the off chance you know how I could compete legitimately, could you tell me? Thanks.

  Yeah. That’d be just great.

  “It is difficult to explain,” he said more politely. “And sensitive. Could you perhaps tell him Nyalin moLinali humbly requests—no, begs—his presence for no more than ten minutes?”

  His request must have seemed reasonable enough, because she measured him for a long moment before nodding again, deep and graceful as a swan, and then glided away.

  He tried sitting on the edge of the fountain, but his leg tapped so incessantly it annoyed even him. He was going to sprain something. Instead, he took to pacing back and forth, and then around the thing, and then when that had him dizzy, he reversed directions.

  “Nyalin! Well met. Honor and great luck to you, these days.”

  He whirled. By the dark dragon, his humble request had worked. Emperor Pavan strode in his direction. He was in full court regalia today, something Nyalin hadn’t seen on their walks. The emperor’s crossover was impossibly fine, bold red and bordered in thin, intricate patterns of azure and gold, and his striking sword Shadow Wing hung on his hip. Nyalin bowed deeply. “Emperor. Luck to you, as well.” The greeting still felt strange and a little weak on his lips. Wishing people strength was a tough greeting to follow. “Thank you for seeing me. I only ask for a few minutes.”

  The man grinned, sweeping his long, curling hair back over his shoulder. His robes were a lapis blue today but woven with gold and green and belted in black. His sword hung at his hip as always. “I was just about to eat breakfast. Why don’t you join me?”

  “If it’s not too much of an imposition, Emperor.”

  “Not at all. Come.”

  He led Nyalin through a smaller archway to the left side, down a hallway, and into a bright, yellow-painted room with blue tiled floors—and a huge table set with a lavish breakfast for two.

  “Were you expecting someone?” Nyalin asked, uneasily sliding into the second chair.

  “No. But my staff are quick and skilled.” He smiled broadly again, gentle eyes twinkling. “Eggs? Bread? This one’s properly baked this time, and I promise I didn’t make it.”

  Nyalin couldn’t help but smile back, and it drained some of his nerves. In a blink, Pavan had his plate piled high with food, and Nyalin began to eat automatically. No one had tried to take care of him like this since he’d last seen Dalas, and the sudden pang of homesickness made him glad his mouth was full.

  After sampling the vast array of meats and eggs and teas and even a little wine, Pavan leaned back in his high-backed chair. “So how are you faring, Nyalin moLinali? How do Cerivil and Lara fare at unearthing your magic?”

  Nyalin cleared his throat and gulped one more drink of tea to buy time. “Well, to be frank, Emperor, we’ve been struggling. But I think I may finally have found a clue as to why.”

  “Oh?” Pavan raised one eyebrow.

  “I think someone may have placed a lock on my magic. I have no idea who or how or why. But it’s a theory.”

  “Whoever gave you that idea?” Pavan asked, head cocked to one side.

  “Someone shared the idea with Lara in her research, who shared the idea with me,” he demurred. “Do you know anything about spells like that? Grel pointed out that you know more higher-levels spells than anyone.”

  Pavan smiled as he took a sip of tea. “Linali knew a few more.”

  “True. But she’s no longer with us.”


  “I hear you keep her grave well tended.”

  “You hear a lot of things, it seems.”

  “It’s my job as an emperor.” He took another sip of tea, and Nyalin refused to fill the silence, waiting for his answer. “Yes, I’ve heard of magical locks used from time to time. Mostly in very dangerous scenarios.”

  “Dangerous?”

  “Yes, like locking in a dangerous animal, things like that.”

  “But this would be a lock on my soul. Or at least my magic.”

  Pavan’s eyes widened. “Really. Fascinating. I suppose it’s theoretically possible.”

  “If I have one, I need to break it. Do you know anyone who could help?”

  Pavan hesitated. “Now, now. Let’s not be hasty. What if you don’t want to break it?”

  He shrugged. “How can I know? There’s no way to know, without trying. What else can I do, just go become a scribe?” It had seemed so reasonable once. Before he really knew. “I can’t just forget about all of it and live an ordinary life. Not now.”

  “Is ordinary so bad?” Pavan’s lips twisted.

  “That’s an easy thing for an emperor to say.”

  “I’ve wished for ordinary more than a few times in my life.”

  He heaved a deep breath. “Well… I haven’t. I have to find a way. Have to. I’m determined.”

  The emperor sighed deeply. “Is there any way I could talk you out of it?”

  Nyalin frowned. “Why would you want to do that?”

  All the mirth had faded from the emperor’s face. He gazed out the window of the room into the gardens, which were just starting to glow with the fresh morning sunlight hitting the dew. But in Pavan’s features, there was no sign of appreciation for that beauty. Instead, he suddenly looked old, and tired, and somber, like he saw someone or something long ago or far away.

  “Emperor?” Nyalin said softly. “Are you all right?”

  “You can call me Pavan, you know.”

  Nyalin frowned harder. “Is something wrong?”

  He sighed again, then straightened, looking for all the world as if he were about to deliver a thunderous verbal blow. “All right. It is beyond time. You asked, how can you know what will happen? I will tell you. I know what will happen. And you do not want to know. And most of all, you do not want to break that lock.”

  Nyalin stared, blinking, for a long minute before questions took over. “What do you mean? Tell me then if you know. What will happen?”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s… hard to explain.”

  “How do you know what will happen, anyway?”

  The emperor’s lips pursed as he leaned forward, as if he were pondering what to say. Or possibly simply waiting to see if Nyalin would figure it out so he didn’t have to.

  “How do you know so much about this?” Nyalin murmured, numb to his core.

  Pavan’s expression slipped further into a scowl. Nyalin stared back, blinking and not wanting it to be true.

  Finally, Pavan grunted, shook his head, and leaned back again in the chair. “I know because I’m one of the ones who put it there.”

  His breath caught. The air went still, crackling with static. Every piece of the world as he knew it shifted and tilted, the foundations of his life shuddering under him.

  “What?” he whispered. “You put it there?”

  “It wasn’t just me, but yes.”

  “Why would you do that?” His voice was barely audible.

  “To protect you.”

  The faintest hint of anger curdled in his gut at those words, waking him from his shocked stupor. All this time, he’d thought himself a failure. All this time, he’d mourned the waste of his mother’s talent… and none of it was true?

  “Who else?” Nyalin demanded.

  “I can’t say.”

  “Who else, damn it? Was it Elix?”

  “He helped.”

  “That son of a bitch. Were there others?”

  Pavan winced. “Your mother too.”

  “What?” He reared up out of the chair, sending it toppling behind him. Pavan stood in turn. “What the—why? How could you? What does that even mean? You should have told me.”

  “You’re probably right. But we were afraid.”

  “Of what? The emperor, the empire’s most powerful clan leader, and its most powerful mage—what by the goddesses were you afraid of?” He was shouting now.

  “Of you!” Pavan thundered back.

  That slowed the burn of Nyalin’s anger for a moment.

  Pavan gritted his teeth, swallowed, then spoke. “You don’t understand, Nyalin. You were so fragile, and so powerful, and… And she was dying.” The word came out broken, cracked. Pavan heaved in a heavy breath and let it back out again before continuing. “Who would have protected you, a baby on the other side? She wasn’t going to be there to guide you. We were under siege. She had enemies you don’t know of, still has them, and they are more powerful than you think. And there was so much blood, so much, and—and—I—”

  Nyalin took a sudden step back, his blood running cold. A revelation was forming in his gut, the realization of something he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. “You were there,” he whispered, stabbing a finger at Pavan. “You were there when she died.”

  “Sort of. Yes.” The man looked like he stood before an execution squad.

  “What do you mean sort of?” Nyalin demanded.

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Did she sort of die? Like I’m sort of alive?” He paused, and questions exploded in his mind as Pavan seemed to grope for an answer. Anything other than a simple She’s dead made the whole world flip further on end. “I’m so sick of hearing it’s complicated, it’s not so simple, it’s hard to explain, everything’s different for you, Nyalin. It’s usually not so hard, Nyalin.”

  “I am trying to explain.”

  “You were there. When I was born.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?” he said slowly, drawing out the word. His voice was heavy with his thoughts, his fears. His sudden certainty.

  For an eternity, Pavan said nothing. But Nyalin didn’t really need to hear anything. He already knew.

  “It was you, wasn’t it?” he breathed. “You. And you left me with Elix? To rot? To think I was all alone? To be all alone?”

  “Nyalin, I—”

  “I thought my father was dead. Or he didn’t know. Or he had some good reason for leaving me. Not that he was too busy running his empire to be bothered. To hell with you.” He turned and stormed down the hallway, toward the fountain.

  He had to get out of here. He needed time to think. To collect his thoughts. Especially before he’d say something he’d regret. The Contests, sweet goddesses, how would he put this out of his mind to compete? What would Lara think? Could he even tell her? The woman in azure hovered near a pillar, frowning as she watched him go.

  “Nyalin!”

  He didn’t stop. He turned out of the palace courtyard and headed down the street.

  “Nyalin! Wait.”

  The voice that echoed down the city street wasn’t Emperor Pavan’s. Nyalin turned and froze, tripping and just barely keeping himself from wiping out on the cobblestones.

  “Dalas?” His voice cracked, like a boy’s. Like a child’s. Fraught with tears but fighting them hard.

  “Nyalin.” The emperor’s face had transformed, except the expression was just as mournful as before. Maybe more so. “You were never alone.”

  “Why? I—” Nyalin had drifted back without meaning to, and now he stopped.

  “I tried to be there. I tried to help when I could, without drawing suspicion. I left you books, coin. Locked the door when you forgot to. And a lot of other things.”

  What did this even mean? “I wanted to know the answers. The secrets. I wanted to know who my father was. But now I’m not so sure.”

  Pavan-Dalas said nothing but crossed the distance between them, stopping barely a
foot away.

  “Was it you that day?” Nyalin whispered. “Who found me and took me to Pyaris?”

  “The necromancer? Yes. I knew Raelt was up to something.”

  “Smoke? Is that you too?”

  “No… Not exactly.”

  “Not exactly? By Seluvae! Who is—”

  “I can explain, all that and more,” said Pavan-Dalas. And seeing him up close, it was Dalas, Nyalin was sure of it. Not an impersonation. How had he not made the connection before? “But you are competing today in the Contests, aren’t you? This will take… a lot of time. Probably more than you have. And not all is easy to hear.”

  “I’m not even sure I want to hear it at this point.”

  Dalas blew out a long breath. “I knew when I agreed to all this that you might hate me for it someday. But you must believe me, I was trying to do what was best for you.”

  Nyalin gritted his teeth and said nothing.

  “Go to the Contests, fight your heart out, and then come back and I will tell you all.”

  “Fine. But if you want to help me fight—and win—and if you’re really my father, do one thing for me.”

  “What is it?” said Dalas, and Nyalin could hear the desire in the man’s voice, the hope it was a wish he could fulfill.

  “Break the lock,” Nyalin whispered. “If you truly put it there, let me stand on my own two feet in this test.”

  His expression crumbled. “I can’t.”

  “I just want to fight like a normal mage,” he shouted. “Is that so much to ask?”

  “You can’t! That’s not what would happen. It’s not what you think.”

  “You’ve given me nothing my whole life, and you can’t even give me this?”

  The man’s face creased with frustration as he searched for words. “No, Nyalin, no—I— I will try to explain. What happens to you when you have access to magic? Lara shares with you, does she not?”

  “I can fight,” he growled, ignoring the warnings going off in his mind that the emperor might catch on to their scheme if he understood so much. They hadn’t counted on that. And anyone else who had helped create the lock, for that matter. “I can fight like a normal mage. Cast any spell. Like I should always have been able to.”