Nothing.
“Are you spying on me?”
My heart leapt into my throat. I whirled to see Bayan – whole and well, standing outside his room with arms crossed.
He wasn’t dead, and somehow this surprised me. I threw my arms around his neck, relief making me reckless. “You’ve recovered!”
Bayan stiffened. He held his arms out to the side as if unsure what to do with them. “I had a fever,” he said. “It was hardly the bog cough. What’s wrong with you?”
I drew back, all the hairs on my arms prickling. “I thought you were dead. Bayan . . .” I trailed off, unsure if I should keep calling him that. Was this even still Bayan?
He rolled his eyes. “A little bit dramatic, don’t you think?”
Well, he still had the attitude. “It wasn’t just a fever, and you can’t convince me that it was. You were practically melting. Bayan; your skin was peeling away from your eyes!”
He stared at me, eyes narrowed. “Is this some sort of trick? Are you trying to spy on me or not?”
I stared back at him. It was like seeing a ghost – because this wasn’t the Bayan I knew from a few days earlier. That Bayan had softened to me, had come to me for help. This was the Bayan where nothing had changed between us. “You don’t remember.”
He huffed out a derisive breath. “I’m not the one who can’t remember, remember? I recovered my memories. You’re the one still bereft.”
“I’ve remembered some things. I earned another key. Do you remember that?”
Bayan merely rolled his eyes. Part of me remembered why I’d hated him for so long, but another part knew that this was merely the crust of Bayan, a brittle shell that covered dark insecurities. “One more key – such an accomplishment! Will you move? You’re in my way.”
“What did he do to you?” I wasn’t sure what else to say. “Was it . . . was it the memory machine?”
For the first time since I’d seen him again, Bayan’s sneer faded away. “What do you mean?”
I wasn’t sure how much to tell him or what to say. If this was Bayan from earlier – I couldn’t trust him. He’d take whatever I said to Father, just to curry more favor. But he couldn’t be that different from the Bayan who had shown me the cloud juniper. I took a chance. “You came to my room a few nights ago. You were . . . sick. Very sick. You wanted me to hide you, but my father came and took you away. I haven’t seen you since.”
He frowned as though searching for a tree through a thick fog. His lips pressed together; his black hair shadowed his face. But he snapped out of the mood as quickly as it had fallen. He might not remember, and I might be smarter, but Bayan was not stupid. His eyes locked to mine. “What day is it?”
“We’re three weeks into the wet season. It’s Sing’s Day.”
A flash of fear made his face pale. Bayan had always stridden about the palace, clothed in arrogance. He’d not truly known what I knew – what it felt like to not trust your own mind. “I think Father did something to you. I don’t know what, or why.” The earliest memory I had, that I was sure about, was the chrysanthemum ceiling. A hazy blur from when I’d woken up. Later, I’d woken again in my bed, and Father had explained what had happened, I thought perhaps I’d dreamt the ceiling. Only as time went on, instead of the dream fading, I grew more and more certain it had been real.
I hesitated but forged forward. “Have you seen a ceiling? Painted in golden chrysanthemum blossoms?”
His face, already pale, went blank. It was the sort of stillness I’d seen in rabbits when predators were close – hoping they hadn’t been seen. And then he moved again, shouldering past me and into his room.
The door shut in my face.
I didn’t need to ask again to know: he’d seen it.
32
Jovis
Nephilanu Island
The claws on my arm detached, only to be replaced by teeth. I struggled to clear my head. I hadn’t been this outmatched since I’d been face down in the street, Philine and her lackeys standing over me. I reached again desperately for the power in my bones. Again no strength surged in my limbs, no tremor radiated from the ground. I’d forgotten what it was like to be without it, afraid of very little. Now fear surged in my throat, choking me.
I kept my arm in front of my face, keeping the construct from lunging for my throat. Behind the mass of its body, I caught a glimpse of torn clothing and a few scraps of bone against the wall. It could have been refuse, but I knew better. I’d found the Shardless Few’s missing spy.
And if I didn’t do something soon, I’d be joining her.
I didn’t have my staff or my strength, but I’d gotten by before without either. I formed a knuckle into a point and jammed it into the construct’s eye. It roared and released my arm. I jumped back. Blood stained my shirtsleeve, and the glimpse of torn flesh beneath flipped my stomach.
The construct was between me and the alley entryway. I couldn’t call for help; if I was rescued, I’d be hard-pressed to explain why a construct had attacked me. I darted for the remains of the spy, hoping she’d carried a weapon. The construct moved at nearly the same time.
Sticky, dark blood met my fingers. Errant bits of dead flesh. Cracked bones where marrow had been sucked out. Terror made my hands shake.
My fingers closed around a leather hilt.
I spun before even seeing what I held. The construct stopped just short of me, a growl in its throat. It was a sinuous beast with oversized jaws and patchy black fur. It had not been constructed with care; its bones pressed against its hide like the struts of a tent. It reminded me of the fish I’d seen washed ashore once, remnants from the depth, flat and dark and full of teeth.
Its yellowed eyes took in the knife I’d seized. Wasn’t much of a weapon, really. More like the kind of thing to eat with or to take fishing. And here I was, brandishing it like I held a sword. Confidence had won me more than one encounter, no matter how little I’d earned it.
The construct, however, was convinced only briefly.
It darted for me, teeth bared. I jumped back, slashing at its face with the knife. By the look of the scars across its muzzle, I hadn’t been the first to try this tactic. And the beast had learned. It ducked beneath my clumsy attack and snapped at my torso. My shirt ripped. I didn’t look to see if teeth had broken skin. I was still alive, and fast running out of time.
Use your brain, Jovis! I’d been the best smuggler in all the Empire before I’d met Mephi. Had a taste of physical prowess diminished my wits? I’d survived the Ioph Carn without Mephi. I could survive this. I couldn’t out-fight this creature with a knife. I had to find some other weapon or run, and it was standing, growling, between me and the alleyway entrance. There was nothing else among the cold cobblestones I could use. I waved my knife again, trying to square my shoulders and appear as large as possible. The construct’s bony shoulders rolled as it stalked closer.
My foot slid as I backed into the pile that once was the Shardless spy.
I’d been lying to myself. There was still something I could use. I tightened my fingers around the leather hilt of the knife, my palm damp with sweat. I took one more step back and threw it right at the construct’s face.
The knife bounced from its head, but I hadn’t been meaning to kill it. I used the distraction to reach down and seize the dead spy’s ripped robe. And then, as the construct leapt for me, I threw the cloak over its head and wrapped it about its sinewy neck.
There are tales in the Empire that the Poyer wrestle bears. Would that those stories were true and that I’d had some acumen in such sport. Instead, I held tight to the fur at its shoulders, the cloth bunched in my fingers, trying to get behind it, to gain some control. It bucked and writhed, the meat-rot scent of it filling my nostrils. The knife was there on the ground, just out of reach. My injured arm burned. Blood ran to my fingers. My grip slipped. As if sensing my weakness, the construct stilled like a cat just before a pounce.
No. Not like this. Not this far from home.<
br />
I gritted my teeth and wrenched my shoulder to the left, pulling the construct with me. It stumbled, and I loosed my grip long enough to seize the knife. Before it could bite me again, I plunged the knife where I judged the eye to be.
It sagged, the muscles slackening as the blade entered its brain. I let it go, wanting to slump to the ground with it. I was a mess. My hair was wild, my clothes filthy, my arm bleeding out like a gutted fish. Somewhere along the way, I’d lost the nosepiece Gio had applied.
Something had happened to Mephi. The thought pounded at the inside of my skull, echoing my pounding heart. I had to get back. Now. I ripped the torn sleeve from my shirt, using the cloth to bind the wound. My bag still hung from my shoulder, the information Gio had asked for within. But I remembered his interest in Mephi. Had it been a ploy, a way to get me to leave? Mephi hadn’t wanted to be left alone. He hadn’t wanted me to leave. Had they done something to him?
I stepped out of the alley and into the sunlight, feeling like I’d stepped from a nightmare world into the daytime one. A few people down the street glanced at me but then hurried away. At least I could count on fewer people peering at my face, thinking they recognized me from somewhere. I ran nearly the entire way to the edge of the city, dodging fishermen and irritated denizens. The day was clear, but I felt in a haze, faces rotating around me like stars in the night sky. My arm throbbed.
If Mephi was hurt, if he was injured, I’d kill the lot of them. I’d find a way.
I threw money at a cart driver heading to another city and rode with him, ignoring the way he looked at me when I jumped off partway there. And then I plunged into the forest, feeling my way back by memory. Every so often I stopped to close my eyes, to reach for that thrum in my bones. Each time I hoped I would find it. When silence answered, I had to choke down a breath. My throat was too tight to even swallow.
The cliff face loomed in front of me. The crack – where was the crack? I stumbled from side to side, brushing past vines to search for it. There. Without hesitation, I turned to the side, breathed out and lunged into the gap. My nose scraped against the stone; my breath warmed my face. The only light I could see filtered green through the vines.
The space opened up, but I couldn’t see anything. They must have left. Taken Mephi and cleared out. I didn’t know what they wanted with him. It hadn’t occurred to me before that someone might take him from me. I put a hand to the wall, trying to steady myself.
Who would I chase after: Emahla or Mephi? My heart threatened to kick free of my ribs. It was too cruel a choice. I’d die making it.
A hand touched my arm. “We put out the lamp in the entrance,” Ranami’s voice emanated from the darkness. “We’ve seen the Emperor’s spies about so we need to be cautious.”
I couldn’t put words to the relief I felt. I sucked in a breath of cool, damp air, my head spinning. I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath. “Mephi?”
For a moment, she didn’t say anything. Panic fluttered up my throat.
“He’s sick,” she said finally. A thousand painful possibilities flashed through my head before she spoke again. “You should see him.” She took my hand and guided me through the passageway.
She let go once we reached the main hall, the fire roaring in the middle. Mephi was curled on his side by the fire.
I tossed the bag aside and went to him. He didn’t respond when I touched him. His cheeks were warm to the touch, and not only from the fire. He sighed a little as I stroked the nubs of his horns, the skin there worn bare of fur. He’d been hungry and tired lately – had I just not noticed the signs of illness?
“You’re hurt,” Gio said from behind me. I hadn’t heard him walking up.
My arm began to throb again as if the reminder had prompted my wound to reassert itself. It didn’t seem to be healing the way my wounds usually did. I gritted my teeth and shook my head. “What happened to him?”
“He collapsed,” Ranami said from behind him. “Was doing fine this morning, started to look a little unwell and then just collapsed by the fire. I’ve been able to feed him a little broth but that’s it. Feels like he has a fever.”
Gio knelt next to me. “It’s nothing that we did,” he said as though he knew the thoughts that had been swirling in my mind. “He could have just fallen ill. Animals do sometimes.” His voice was calm, even. “Now tell me what happened to you.”
“He needs a doctor.”
“I’ll have one of our Shardless medics look at him. Now tell me what happened to you.”
I told him – the rolled sheet of parchment I’d obtained, the construct, the spy’s remains in the alley. “I killed the construct and came back here as quickly as I could.”
Gio stood. “We need to get into the palace. Tonight.”
I couldn’t think straight enough to even get my legs beneath me. And he wanted me to infiltrate a palace? “Fool” and “rebel” sometimes meant the same thing. “What do you want me to fight with?” I lifted my injured arm. “This?”
“I’ll have a medic see to you, and you’ll have some rest before dark, but we can’t waste any more time. The Emperor’s spies have discovered our informant – which means when the construct doesn’t report back, its master will find out. Eventually that means Ilith or Tirang . . . and then the Emperor himself. Regardless, the second-tier construct in charge of this region will know our plans. We need to move while the information we’ve received is still good.”
Fanatics were all alike, cut from the same cloth and dyed different colors. “I can’t. Not tonight. Not until Mephi is better.”
Gio pursed his lips, his brow shadowing his eyes. His gaze focused somewhere over my shoulder. And then he refocused, nodding his head. For a moment I thought he’d agreed with me. But then he spoke. “We go tonight or you’ll get nothing from us.”
I wanted to break his bones. “I’m not leaving him.” Not again.
“What good will you be to him here? He has a fever, Jovis, but he’s still eating. As far as I can tell, he’s in no danger of dying. But everyone here, him included, will be in danger if we don’t use this information now and overthrow the governor.”
“Not if I take him back to my ship. Or would you stop me?” I matched his glare and was surprised to find Gio stood taller than I did, his shoulders broad despite his age. Tension hummed in the air between us. He was old and missing an eye and my arm was torn, yet there was danger in what we were doing. It felt as though we both stood at a precipice. But I wouldn’t be bullied into leaving my friend.
A quick intake of breath from behind me, the scramble of feet against stone. “Catch it!” Ranami cried out. She brushed past me, hand outstretched. I followed the length of her arm and caught a glimpse of brown fur as something scampered around the corner.
All of the Shardless seemed to move at once, like ants after a foot has pressed into their anthill. Ranami’s shout echoed down the hall, vibrating off the walls. Even as I darted after the creature, I could hear others taking up the call.
A construct spy, here in the Shardless hideout. I’d not waited until that cart had gone out of view; I’d not checked behind me. I couldn’t be sure, but some deep part of me knew: I’d brought this ruin upon them. I didn’t have the speed or strength that my bond with Mephi gave me, but desperation made me quick. I surged past Ranami, following the construct into the dimly lit hall. It darted away from me, even as I strained to reach it.
I leapt for it, reaching. My hand grasped empty air.
And then the construct was squirming through the gap in the rocks, out of the cliff face, into the forest.
Gio and Ranami came up beside me, both of them breathless.
Gio raked me with his gaze. “You were supposed to take the long way. You’ve led them to us.”
I hadn’t done it intentionally, but saying so would be cold comfort at a time like this.
“We can’t wait until tonight anymore,” Gio said. “We have to leave now.”
Ranami proffe
red a hand to help me up. “I’ll watch Mephi. Make sure he gets some food in him and rests. I won’t let him come to harm. Please go. We will give you what we promised,” she said. She swallowed. “We all have people we care about who are in danger.”
I reached again for the thrum in my bones. Nothing. There was the matter of my skills – the ones they’d wanted me on board for in the first place – now vanished. But I thought of Emahla and my mother, and at the corners of these thoughts crept the faces of the shard-sick. I do not care about them. They are nothing to me. I’d opened my heart a crack for Mephi, and now it seemed the whole world came flooding in. And this was my fault. The guilt lay thick over my heart.
One breath in, one breath out. “I’ll go,” I said. And the weight of the words felt like an anchor into the Endless Sea.
“Get him bandaged,” Gio said to Ranami. “I’ll get the supplies and get everyone together.”
The medic cleaned the wound – did it look any less angry than it had a moment before? – and wrapped it tightly. “I’d tell you to rest it,” she said, “but you won’t. If you come back . . . when you come back, I’ll change the bandage.”
Now that I’d made the decision, calm had settled over me like a morning mist.
Gio arrived back at the entrance a moment later, my steel staff in his hands, a pack strapped to his back, knives strapped to his sides. “The Shardless will create a distraction at the gates,” he told me as we walked into the forest. Rain pattered against the leaves, my feet squelching with each step. “We’ll have to climb, but there’s a hidden entrance to the palace, built by the Alanga. The governor kept it in case he ever had need of a speedy escape. There are guards but we have their locations and when they rotate out. We take the governor while the Shardless are working the main gate.”
“How do they plan to take the main gate?” I hadn’t seen that many Shardless in the hideout – not enough to storm a palace.
Gio’s mouth settled into a grim line. “We start another riot. Conditions in the farms here have been getting worse. Even people living in the cities have family working the farms.”
The Bone Shard Daughter: The Drowning Empire Book One Page 27