The Bone Mask Trilogy: (An Epic Fantasy Boxed Set), page 53
“Have you seen him?”
“No. He’s avoiding me. I am a little surprised.”
She shrugged. “Well, we have to try something.”
“I agree. What about Osani?”
“Useless. I can’t get through to him so I won’t be able to teach the Oynbae anything there.”
“The Oyn-Dir suggested that I might still carry word to Seto.”
“It would take too long.”
“That’s what I told him.”
“And I need your help.”
He snorted. “I’m not helping much now. I don’t know anything about the Greatmasks, Sofia. Only what I’ve seen you do.”
A shout brought the training – or was it a display? – to a halt and the women bowed to each other and made room for another trio. One of the women who’d been sparring approached.
Nia. She brushed leaves from her knees and sat beside them. Despite her efforts, there was not even a trace of sweat at her temples.
“How goes it?”
“Not well. I cannot reach Seto.”
“And must you reach your King? Can someone else be reached, who can then speak to the King?”
Sofia put her head in her hands a moment. “I’m a fool.”
Nia grinned. “You’re welcome.” She stood and rejoined her fellow warriors, casting a glance at Notch. Sofia noted the way he watched her, a mixture of admiration and wariness. Was he interested in the woman? He probably didn’t even know how obvious his behaviour was becoming.
But then, there wasn’t time to figure it all out and Nia’s idea was a good one. “Notch, why didn’t I think of that?”
“You’re trying too hard is all.” He rested a hand on her shoulder a moment. “And I didn’t think of it either.”
“Well, who should I try next?”
Notch straightened. “I know who. Metti, the Harbour Witch. She’s usually holding a bone of some sort.”
“Think Argeon will be able to find bone?”
“Yes. Remember – the things that I fought in the aqueducts? I think they’re all related to the Sea Beast. Like off-cuts or something. And those things that spewed from the sewers, the ones that attacked you.”
An echo of Veddir’s pleas, gurgling in the carriage. “I remember.” She shuddered. “But what does that have to do with Metti?”
“I gave her a bone from the beast Wayrn and I killed. I think Argeon would be able to find it, he’s made of bone, right?”
“Why not? Nothing else has worked.” She paused. “Wait. I’ve never met her, let alone seen her.”
“Does that matter?”
“I usually have to give Argeon images and impressions. Maybe I should try someone else first? Someone I know. Luik maybe?”
“It won’t hurt.”
Sofia replaced Argeon, the must of ages in her nose. The thin shadow of Tantos had returned. It lurked. Yet nothing of him was there, only the suggestion of his voice, a half-seen view of his profile.
Enough of that.
Luik.
The big man’s pride in his cooking when he served at the table. The scars on his forearms, his broad shoulders and the brief but careful way he spoke. His sudden grin when he and Notch were up to something. She drew in a breath at the sense of him, present as if he sat beside her.
“Luik? Can you hear me? Luik, it’s Sofia.”
Then he was gone.
“That nearly worked, didn’t it?” Notch said.
“He was so close, Notch, but I lost him.”
“Try again.”
Sofia closed her eyes. Bringing Luik back was easy enough, at least – the images of him. “Luik?” The longer she sat, the quieter the clearing grew. When she opened her eyes the next bout of sparring was already finished. Only Ren and her own guard remained, both stood together some distance away.
“No luck?” Darkness was falling and Notch had taken to performing stretches on the loam. He paused when she growled her answer.
“No. It’s useless.”
“Why don’t you try Metti? I’ll describe her.”
She threw up her hands. “Go ahead.”
“Well, her face is like a mask.”
“How?”
“Just let me finish.” He took a breath. “She’s old, but her skin is smooth, only it’s stretched. It’s the same for her hands. She sits in a deep chair before a warm fire and the room’s dim. She wears black and white robes, and she had a kitten in her lap when I was there.”
Sofia nodded slowly. The woman was easy to visualise, but how accurate was her picture? How long her hair, was she slender, graceful? No way to replicate those small details. “Keep going, but more big things. Things that struck you.”
“All right. She’s pretty rigid. I thought she could be a corpse at first, but there’s a heat to her skin. It’s unsettling.”
“Perfect. More.” A sense of Metti wavered somewhere, growing in her awareness.
“She held a bone, the one I gave her was long, maybe a rib.”
The sense of the witch surged around her. “Metti?”
Who is there? Who intrudes? The voice was shocked, but a power burned within.
“Sofia Falco.”
Truly? How can we speak thusly?
“Greatmask Argeon. I believe he can focus on your bones.”
Ah. The Sea Beast. How curious. And wonderful.
“Metti, I need your help.” Sofia relayed the Oyn-Dir’s request. “It’s urgent. They will not let us leave to find my father until Seto agrees to send help. Can you convince him?”
How little you ask, my dear.
“Please.”
Worry not. I do not wish to see harm come to your father any more than you do. I will relay the message. She paused. And give Notch my greetings. I feel him there, beside you. It seems he has proven a good protector.
“He has.”
I will keep a bone close by. Call me again at dawn, I should have an answer by then. I suspect we will speak often.
Metti was gone before Sofia could thank her, although, perhaps it was more that Sofia herself and Argeon were pushed back.
She threw her arms around Notch. “It worked.”
“I heard.” He squeezed her a moment. “I guess we’ll be packing and heading back into the forest soon.”
“As soon as Metti sends word, Notch.”
Chapter 24
Waves slammed against the walls below, and Flir smacked the parapet as she turned. A morning wind tugged at her clothing but she pushed through it on her way back to the stairwell. Pacing had long since grown dull. And taking in some air, while welcome at first, no longer offered much of a respite.
Alvetti’s body had revealed no truths. He appeared a typical soldier, fit, young and strong, with only his weapons, an empty purse and a small bone charm set to string around his neck. Nothing to hint at his strange strength. The charm was smooth with age, shaped as a tiny open hand but nothing anyone recognised.
She kept it just in case, but ultimately, it was another dead end.
At least Lavinia would be done by now, surely?
Pevin shadowed her down the steps, as was customary, but said nothing. A wise choice. Mayla’s rooms were under guard, though they did not impede her progress. Flir entered on soft feet, motioning for Pevin to wait outside. She closed the door quietly. Mayla stood beside Lavinia, who hummed something of a lullaby over the small figure of Bel.
The girl still slept, face clear of stress, and astonishingly, the fin had thinned and receded.
“It’s working?”
Lavinia turned with a smile. “Flir. Not quite.”
“But it’s smaller.”
“Yes, but within an hour, it will return.”
“It’s progress.”
“True. Abrensi is a clever man. His song has some effect on the illness but the fin is persistent. I feel we may have to learn more, in the Tier.”
Mayla nodded as she placed a fine cup, decorated with painted leaves, on a bedside table.
“Have you asked Seto?”
“His majesty would approve, I’m sure.”
Flir stroked Bel’s hair. “I don’t know if I agree with that, but I like your idea.”
“Then would you accompany me now, if I were to go?”
“I know just the house.”
“Good.” Lavinia gathered up her cloak. “I will bring Bol and Manico for protection of course.”
“Think I’m not enough?”
“Oh, I apologise. I didn’t mean to insinuate –”
Flir laughed. “Don’t worry so much, I’m just having a joke.”
“Oh.”
Mayla cleared her throat. “I’ll look after the patient then, will I?”
“That would be welcome, thank you,” Lavinia said.
“And what do I tell her family, while you’re out saving the city?”
“The truth,” Flir said. “The song is working but she’s not cured yet.”
Mayla crossed her arms.
“That sounds fair, Mayla,” Lavinia said.
“Of course it does. Get going then, before I go and find the King myself.”
Flir grinned. “He’s too busy to stop us.”
She waved her hands. “Out, the both of you.”
Flir chuckled as she skipped from the room. Two of the guards, obviously Bol and Manico, detached from the door as Lavinia followed. Pevin trailed at a respectable distance. By the Goddess, he was persistent. “Where exactly should we start?”
“A house with a green door.”
“You know the people?”
“Not really. A young woman, Ana, showed me her father. He’s sick with the fever and I promised to help them.”
On the streets, a light rain slanted between buildings. Flir shrugged it off, but Lavinia wrapped her cloak. The Shield marched on. At the breach, the Sea Beast carcass was significantly smaller in places. With the added men the beast was finally shrinking, the Shield and labourers swarming over the corpse and the staging area.
Its dark bulk still towered over the area and the scaffolds remained in place, but fewer ribs were visible now; many had been shorn away. The softer, pink and bloody under-flesh gleamed in the mist and the creaking of winches and rasp of saws cut through pauses in shouts. The men with saws wore heavy masks to protect from the bone dust, and the expressions she could see were tense.
She had forgone a mask herself, the smell less offensive in the poor weather.
When Seto barred the area around the wall and closed the Tiers he’d put an end to casual onlookers. Few locals watched now and the Shield, Vigil and labourers were left to do the dangerous job. Lately none of the workers had fallen seriously ill, but enough were showing early signs of sickness. Holindo’s reports were requesting more men and more rotation, so as not to expose them to long periods with the Beast. A good idea. If she had to estimate, there was at least another two week’s worth of work at full capacity.
“That is taking a long time,” Lavinia said.
“Too long.”
“But it is progress at least,” Pevin added.
Moving deeper into the Lower Tier, Flir asked for directions several times, until she and Lavinia stood before the green door. A pair of thugs had appraised them outside a taproom, but Flir had Lavinia flash the star crest on her robe and their eyes widened. They made clumsy bows and sought less revered prey.
She knocked, and Ana answered. Her face was drawn, a blue tint to her skin.
“You came back.” Her voice was listless as she showed them into the candle-crowded kitchen and then the second room. Again, Flir asked Pevin to wait outside. He complied without complaint.
“I brought someone – is your father...” Flir stopped. “No.”
Ana’s son, his arms crossed on his chest, lay deathly still on one of the cots. Delamo leant against a wall.
“Who is it, daughter?”
“Lady Flir.”
He spun, jaw clenched. His colour was fine but his eyes burned, and not with fever. Accusation. She doubted he saw the Shields or Lavinia. “Too little, too late, girl.”
Mishalar. Not again. “I should have come sooner.”
“Any fool can see that,” he shouted.
Flir said nothing. The boy’s skin was both blue and pallid. Deep, dark rings fell as far as his cheeks.
Lavinia stepped forward. “Sir, would you permit me to treat your daughter?”
Ana had slumped against the door frame. “I’m fine-is. I just need to rest.”
Lavinia took her hand. “We both know that’s not true, dear.” She led Ana to the other cot. “Lie down.”
Delamo scooped up the cold boy and stumbled into the kitchen. Flir let him pass but could not meet his eyes. Just as in Caldtha. Once again, she’d broken a promise. Only this time, there’d been no Gods involved.
Lavinia began to hum, almost beneath her breath, as she removed a pouch of the herbal mixture Mayla had prepared. Flir took it and went to the stove. Without asking, she found a kettle and set it over the heat. Delamo watched her, his grandson lying on the table. He was placing hunks of dark bread over the boy’s eyes. For the Death Deity that the Anaskari seemed to believe in – what was his name? It didn’t matter.
Bol and Manico positioned themselves within reach of Lavinia.
Flir’s mouth twisted. Watching water boil? She turned and met his eyes. “What happened?”
“I recovered. By myself.”
“And your grandson?”
“Gian did not.”
“Ana?”
“Same. She is getting no better. We’ve sent dozens of messages to the palace-is.” His jaw worked. “Not a one got further than the Tier gate.”
“Lavinia will help.”
“That so? She some witch?”
“Storm Singer.”
Incredulity passed over his face. Lavinia’s voice rose in the bedroom and Delamo took half a step forward. “The Storm Singer is in my home? Helping my daughter?”
“Yes. Go, listen. You’ll feel a little better. She won’t mind.”
Flir attended to the kettle, finding a mug and mixing herbs into the boiling water. A bitter smell rose in the steam. She stirred it and handed the mixture to Ana, who took drowsy sips. Lavinia’s voice grew louder, the same sequence of notes. Even Delamo’s face had eased, some of the lines of grief fading.
She slipped out into the faint rain and slumped against the wall. Too little, too late.
“Dilar?” Pevin’s face was full of concern.
She waved him away, pushing off the clammy stone and heading deeper into the Tier. The people she passed were not well. Some slumped in mouths of alleys, some vomiting, others unmoving. An older woman pulled a young man along. His eyes were vacant, a blue tint to his skin. A small dog trailed them, sniffing at the rivulets running between cobblestones.
By an unfinished house crammed between leaning buildings, its roof a caving mess and one wall tumbling into the street, a stench drove her back. Flir raised an arm, covering her mouth as she crept forward.
Bodies.
Over a dozen, all soaking blue, their limbs twisted and gnawed by scavengers.
She found three more such houses before stepping into an inn, dripping on the wooden floor. Two men sat at tables, opposite ends of the room. Both heads were down.
The innkeeper raised a club. “Stop.”
She paused.
“Not another step till I see your skin.”
“I’m not sick.”
The thin man grunted, moving round the bar. He relaxed once he was close enough to see her skin. “You a southerner, then? If so, I want to see some money first.”
“Renovar.”
A shorter grunt. He went back to the bar and she followed. “Fine. What do you want?”
“To know what’s happening.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Ain’t seen that big dead fish in the wall?”
“I meant in the Tier, with the people.”
“Death, that’s what’s happening. People are dying faster than we can get them into the ground or onto pyres.” He spat. “I’d say we’re about a day or two away from city-wide riots at this rate. Can’t turn anywhere without running into someone blue. I’ve been keeping them out myself. Want to keep my regular customers safe.”
All two of them? But she only nodded.
“And what the hell is the palace doing? Forget the King’s fancy bone collection – he ought to just put that thing to torch.”
“It doesn’t burn.”
“Eh?”
“I saw them try it.”
“Well, something else then. Something better,” he added, rapping the bench top.
“Think there’s going to be a cure for this sickness?”
He shook his head. “Not until that heap of pus and bones is gone.”
“That bad?”
“There’s talk of people growing fish parts before they die. Some end it early by throwing themselves into the harbour. Surprised the place isn’t clogged with ‘em by now. You know, some streets are already barricaded?”
“Really?”
“It’s a good idea it is.”
“I’d say so.” Flir placed a silver penny on the bar. “Thank you for the information.”
The coin disappeared into a pocket before he gave his own thanks. Flir strode back into the cold. The rain eased to a mist, but a chill wind now rushed through the streets. She made her way through more helpless-looking people, through refuse and narrow streets, until she reached the wharves. Those that weren’t either shattered or under repair were crowded with ships and people shouting for passage.
One woman, clutching a wide hat and heavy bag, waved a purse at sailors lining the rail of one of the bigger ships. The moment it appeared in her hand, the crowd stripped it from her, tossing her to the ground. Flir shouldered people aside and pulled the woman to her feet.
“Thank you,” she gasped.
Her hat had been trampled and her golden hair was plastered to her head, but she set her lips and headed for the next ship.
How many had come here, hoping to flee the inexorably sickening city? Certainly enough had stormed the gate of the Lower Tier, demanding to be free. But like all other gates in Anaskari, they stayed sealed. And the few remaining ships were to remain at dock themselves.
Nothing good would come of letting the illness spread to other nations.
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