If I didn’t get myself together, if I didn’t end this, I would fail.
I was Lin. I was the Emperor’s daughter. I would not fail. The words burned in me, molten iron forged into a blade. A deep breath in, and then I tried once more, moving my hand slowly, with purpose.
Uphilia’s body gave beneath my touch. She froze as I searched inside her for the bone shards, her teeth still embedded in my skin. I found the shards stacked one on top of the other, and it felt like there were more than there were even in Mauga. At the top of the chain, I pulled a shard free. I had to wiggle it like a loose tooth before it disengaged.
When it was safely in my palm and outside Uphilia’s body, I took a moment to pry her jaw open. It was like levering open an oyster. Blood soaked my shirt and the wounds burned, but I adjusted my sash around the bite to stop the bleeding. I’d have to tend to it later.
Lamplight glowed from between the cracks in the floorboards of Uphilia’s den, and I held the shard over the light. I’d expected the same command I’d seen on Mauga’s shard: obey Shiyen always. But my father had different ideas for his Construct of Trade.
Esun Shiyen uvarn: nelusun 1, 2, 3.
Obey Shiyen unless: conditions 1, 2, 3. It took me a while to decipher the words. This was more complex than what I’d encountered inside Mauga. Uphilia had the option to disobey Father under certain conditions. The numbers would match reference shards within Uphilia’s body, though I wasn’t sure where I’d find them. They’d be marked with those same numbers.
I bled as I worked, each move sending a twinge of pain into my ribs and hip. Uphilia’s feathers tickled my cheeks each time I leaned in close. She didn’t stink like Mauga did. Hers was a light and almost sweet musky scent; she smelled less like a dog and more like hay. I checked each shard for a number in the corner. Commands flashed in the dim light from below:
~ Purchase boxes of caro nuts when: condition 9.
~ When tithes of tuna fall below twenty fish per year, report to Shiyen.
~ Gather reports on stolen goods from Tier Two constructs daily.
Finally, I found a shard engraved with a “1” in the upper left side. The engraved words on it were tiny; I had to squint and hold it just above the floorboards to make out the words:
~ If Shiyen does not have all the information Uphilia has, and Uphilia’s experience dictates a different decision for betterment of the Empire.
So my father trusted her enough, or at least trusted her sophisticated commands enough, to let her override him when she thought the occasion called for it. I replaced it, noted its location and searched for the next two.
They were located directly below the first, so I didn’t have to search far.
On “2”: if Shiyen’s decision will result in a total or partial collapse of the Empire’s economy. And on “3”: if Shiyen is asking for something that cannot be reasonably achieved.
I sat back on my heels, the last reference shard cradled in my palm. I couldn’t rewrite the shards the same way I had rewritten Mauga’s. I hadn’t done the cleanest job, and though he seemed to be behaving as normal, Uphilia was more complex. I couldn’t count on the same solution to work with her. I had to find another way.
This time, though, I’d brought more resources with me. I dug inside my sash pocket and brought out one of the shards from the storeroom. This might be an even easier and more elegant solution than with Mauga. I could add another condition to the topmost command. “If Lin asks Uphilia to obey her instead, Uphilia will thereafter obey Lin.” I couldn’t replace my father with myself in all Uphilia’s commands, but this would provide a stopgap measure until I could fully rewrite Uphilia’s shards.
I found the topmost command again and used the engraving tool to carve a “4” into the corner of it. And then I held the tool poised over the corner of my fresh, blank bone. I’d made certain, when I’d gone back to the storeroom, to choose an island far away from the inner Empire, one where I didn’t know the occupants and never could have met them. One where I might never know the occupants.
I’d avoided looking at the drawer where the blacksmith’s shard had once lain.
But the moment I pressed this tool into the bone, I was writing on the life of someone, no matter that they were half a world away. When I placed the shard into Uphilia’s body, the shard’s original owner might have a day where they felt a little unwell. The thought might cross their mind, but they wouldn’t know that their shard was in use. It wouldn’t be until they were older that their life would seem to flow more swiftly from their bones. They’d age faster, feel weaker. Eventually, they’d die years before their time, and Father would have to replace the old, dead bone inside Uphilia with a fresh one.
This is what I would do if I engraved the new reference into the bone. I would shorten someone’s life.
Several days ago, I might have done so without a second thought. But meeting Numeen’s family, getting to know his daughter Thrana – I knew however far away the person was whose skull this bone had been chiseled from, they were a person. A person with hopes, dreams and people who loved them.
Was there another way?
I went through the rest of the shards, sifting through the commands, searching for a pearl in the Endless Sea. All I found were grains of sand. I went through them again, desperate. The rain clinked against the tile roof above, a staccato accompaniment to the frantic beating of my heart.
The sky outside turned blue, and then gray. I couldn’t delay any longer. I’d come too far to make a different choice. Steeling myself, I engraved the command onto the bone. It felt like I was digging the end of the tool into my soul, scratching irreversible words into its surface.
But it was done.
I shifted Uphilia’s body beneath me so I could have better access to the reference shards. I’d need to shift them a little in order to fit this new one between them. But when I slid my hands under her ribs, I felt something across the backs of my hands – not the floorboards, or straw. She was lying on something hard and square. A book?
I moved her to the side. The book she’d been sleeping on was broad and wrapped in brown leather, the cover unmarked. I opened it, shuffling through the pages. It took me only a moment to understand the contents. Names were written inside, and dates. The top of each page was labeled: “Imperial Island”.
Birth records. And deaths, by the end dates next to some names. Why did Uphilia have this and not Mauga? Mauga kept track of such bureaucratic matters. It wasn’t in Uphilia’s purview.
Out of curiosity, I flipped through the birth dates, searching for my own. I found it closer to the end, written in a neat and orderly script.
Lin Sukai, 1522–1525.
My gut turned, a cold mass of writhing serpents. 1525. I scanned the page again, and then the next page, and the page before. This was the only Lin Sukai listed in the year I was born. I’d been born in the year 1522, but I was also still alive. It was 1545 now, and I was still alive.
I ran my hands over my chest and belly, feeling somehow less solid than I’d felt just a moment before. Why was it written in this book that I was dead? My hands trembling, I placed the book back on the floor and covered it with straw. I couldn’t ask my father. I couldn’t ask Bayan. The numbers written on the page fluttered in my mind, a bird’s wings beating against a cage.
The sun was rising, and I was out of time.
I shoved the shard into Uphilia, just below the other three reference shards. Before she could awaken, I lowered myself to an overhang below. I had to let go to fall the rest of the way, but the strength of the cloud juniper was still in me. My knees bent only a little on impact. I could make it into a window from here, though I’d need to hurry before the servants began their chores.
I was dead. According to the birth records, I was dead at three years old. Perhaps this was tied somehow to my memory, to why I couldn’t remember anything beyond three years ago. But then what were the memories in the journal, written in my handwriting?
&nbs
p; And why did my father think these memories should be mine?
30
Jovis
Nephilanu Island
I found Gio in the main hall with the others the next morning, pacing in front of the fire. It seemed he’d had an even more restless night than I had. I’d searched through the book into the late hours, finding other words I recognized. Whoever had written in it had taken some time to practice Empirean. They were crude replications, but the author had been learning. I’d realized I could work backward from these writings, figure out some of the words of this language.
Alanga. I’d seen their monuments, some of their artifacts, but I’d never seen one of their books. I should try to sell it. I could use the money to pay down more debts, to buy more supplies. What did I care for these mysteries? Yet I couldn’t deny its discovery had awoken something within me – reminding me of my nights of study at the Academy, the satisfaction of solving a problem.
I was a smuggler. Not a navigator.
Did Gio know about the secret room?
He stopped abruptly in front of the fire, his back to me. Mephi bounded ahead to beg for fish scraps from the cook. He’d already had an enormous breakfast, but I let him go. Gio turned when he saw Mephi, and our gazes met. “You’re awake. Good.”
I spread my arms. “So it seems. Although this could be a dream.”
“Not a dream. A nightmare.”
“Yours or mine?”
Gio rubbed his brow, squinting into the fire with his one good eye. “I sent one of my scouts out last night to gather some information on the palace and the best routes to the governor’s rooms. She hasn’t returned. We need this information if we’re to accomplish our aims without being caught.”
Before I could form another thought, Mephi was at my feet, crunching on a fish head. He watched me with bright black eyes.
“Send someone else after her,” I suggested.
“You saw the shard-sick. We don’t have an unlimited supply of spies.”
Mephi turned the fish head over in his paws. “Help.”
I shot him a dagger-filled look. Of all the times—
“What?” Gio turned, his eye narrowed. He looked to me, and then Mephi, and then back to me.
The last thing I needed was anyone finding out Mephi could speak. They’d run me off the island. The only creatures that spoke in stories were the bad kind. “I said I’ll help.”
Gio looked me up and down. “You’ll help?”
Inwardly, I sighed. This was how it began – agree to help fix someone’s roof; the next thing you knew you were building them a new house. “Tell me where you sent her and the information you wanted her to uncover. I’ll look for her and gather the information. This doesn’t mean I want to join the Shardless. I just want to be on my way as soon as possible.”
He considered for a moment and then sighed. “I don’t have much choice. She had a contact in the city. A soldier who’s on our side. He gets off his shift late afternoon. You should be able to find him at the drinking hall near the docks. Tell him that the fish were jumpy today, use those exact words. They serve fried squid at this hall – you can smell it before you see it.”
“And how do I know who this man is?”
“He sits at the corner table. Middle-aged fellow.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Does he have a name?”
“None that he’s felt safe to give us.”
Stealing things was more straightforward. Go in without a thing, leave with a thing. I nodded. “I’ll leave now.”
I turned to go, but Gio’s voice stopped me. “You can’t take him with you.”
It took me a moment to understand what he meant. Mephi. I’d grown so used to having him at my side that it had never occurred to me that he wouldn’t always just be there. That he couldn’t always be there.
“People will notice,” Gio said when I pivoted back to him. “You’ve garnered a reputation. And your pet is unusual. They don’t mention your pet in the songs perhaps, but the gossip is a different matter. I’ll meet you by the entrance. Cutting your hair after the Empire painted your portraits was a good move, but we can disguise you a little more in case anyone’s seen the posters. There are fewer here.”
He was right, though I didn’t much like it.
The rebels had set me up in a room near the main cavern. It was carved so neatly it could have been formed from a mold. A relief was carved into the ceiling of a woman in flowing robes, a swirling ball hovering over her left hand and water dripping from her right in a flow heavy as a waterfall. A mountain stood behind her. The artist had carved the mountain to be almost as imposing as the woman – a tall and jagged thing, capped at the top with what looked to be a cloud juniper. The tiny lamp in the corner cast angry shadows across the woman’s face.
It was a fearsome thing to be stared down by when one was trying to sleep.
Mephi nudged my hand with his head. His head was now nearly to my waist, which made sense when I saw how much he ate every day. He’d be the size of a small pony a few months into the wet season if he kept this up. The fur on his horn numbs had rubbed completely clean, leaving dark, shiny patches of skin. “I should go with you,” he said.
I stared down at him, astonished. “Are you speaking in complete sentences now?”
“Sometimes?” He leaned against my leg and peered up at me, his black eyes like river-polished stones. “I should be with you.”
“Just nine more days and we’ll be gone again.” I scratched at his cheeks. “We’ll be out on the Endless Sea and you can go fishing off the side of the boat.”
He let out a heavy sigh – the sort a husband might when his wife said she was well and truly done sailing in storms, after she just sailed into this next one. He shook his head and began to dig at the blankets. “You are doing a good, but you are alone. Alone is bad. Alone is not good.” He made a hollow in the blankets and settled into it, his tail curling about his nose. We’d just woken up. Was he tired again already? “I am alone.”
The creature sounded so dejected, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. I knelt and cupped his head in my hands. His head was now as heavy as a dog’s, his jaw wider and heavy with muscle. The bite he’d left on that Imperial soldier must have hurt. Pride filled my chest. He’d come a long way since the ragged little kitten-thing I’d plucked from the ocean. “Don’t bother the cook, and I’ll be back tonight.”
I gave him a last pat on the head and left before he could entreat me again to stay. Ranami hovered outside the door, a sheet of parchment in her hands. Had she heard me talking to Mephi? The doors here were all stone – she certainly didn’t look at me as though she’d heard Mephi talk.
“Here,” she said, shoving the piece of parchment at me. “It’s a map. You’ll need to know how to get to the city from here. Take the long way – don’t lead anyone back to us. Gio is waiting for you.” She seemed agitated, her hands smoothing the front of her dress as soon as I’d taken the map.
I hesitated. “Is something wrong?” I shouldn’t have asked. Asking meant I might feel sorry for her, and then I might offer to help. I’d done enough helping. Emahla was out there, and it had been seven years.
She closed her eyes for a moment and shook her head. “It’s fine. It will be fine, as long as you do what you’ve promised to. Better men and women than you have fallen to spies or constructs. Watch your back.”
“Wait,” I said before she could leave. “My pet, Mephi. Can you watch him while I’m gone? Make sure he eats enough? He’s been more hungry than usual lately.”
Her expression softened. She might not have liked me, but there were few who didn’t like Mephi. “He seems very attached to you. I’ll do my best.”
Gio waited for me near the entrance, his cloak wrapped around his shoulders, his beard nearly hidden in it, a leather bag at his side. He looked like only one dark eye and a scar. “Good luck,” he told me.
“I don’t need luck,” I said with a dismissive wave. “I need skill.”
“Good skill doesn’t have quite the same ring,” Gio said. “And it’s not something I can wish upon you.”
I stopped and waited as he applied putty to my face to hide the shape of my nose. “This rebellion. You’re playing a game with long odds,” I said. “Are you planning on winning, or are you only planning on making your opponent miserable before you reach the end?”
“I only play to win.” Gio’s gaze focused on the bridge of my nose, his thumb pressing near my eye. “And we will win. The Emperor isolates himself. He is dying and no one really knows his daughter. What do you think will happen when he dies? What will happen to all the constructs spread across the islands? They will no longer have any direction. And the rebellion will be there to pick up the pieces.”
“But will you remake what’s broken?”
“We will build something new. No more Tithing Festivals, no more Emperor. Free trade and movement between the islands,” Gio said. “No governors, but a Council made up of representatives from all the known islands.” He pulled out a couple of jars, looked at my face, mixed some colors from them and then dabbed them on my nose.
“And what happens to you when all this is done?”
“I build a farm somewhere, live out the rest of my days. I don’t want to be Emperor if that’s what you’re wondering. I’m just the midwife for something new.”
His words sounded practiced, like he’d said them a thousand times. I knew a liar when I met one. I recognized one each time I saw my own reflection. And now, looking into Gio’s remaining eye, I felt as though I looked upon the glassy surface of a lake on a windless day.
He met my gaze. “What does it matter to you? You’re a smuggler. You’re not invested in this society. You live outside it.”
He was redirecting my question, trying to put me on the defensive. I knew these tricks. “And how will we choose this Council, Gio? All these people who hate the Empire, who hate everyone who has been involved in it – how do we get everyone to join into a common purpose? Will you be the one to heal these wounds? How will you do that from your quiet farm? The Sukais once thought they would heal the wounds left by the Alanga.”
The Bone Shard Daughter: The Drowning Empire Book One Page 25