The Bone Witch Page 5

  The castle was open to all who came at this time of the year because, like the spring equinox, this was the custom. The people wore magic on their brows. They painted their lips scarlet with the spells’ fullness and dusted their cheeks with its rouge. I could feel the enchantments woven into their clothes. Lady Mykaela took her time pointing out some of the spells to me so I could commit to memory how they looked and what they felt like. Many arranged elegance in their feather bonnets and solemnity in their tailcoats. Composure adorned a lady’s majestic hat. It didn’t work on me; the overabundance of feathers made her look like she had assaulted an ungainly duck in a past life and wore its skin, and the thought made me giggle.

  “Why do they do that?” I asked Mykaela. “Why do they waste magic this way?”

  “It is the way of the rich,” she replied, shrugging one silk-clad shoulder. “They commission the ateliers to spin it into their clothes and call it fashion or have apothecaries paint their faces and call it beauty. You are village born and do not understand the way the city’s mind works. The city rich are not like bees in a hive that work together to share honey for all. The city rich are like the jungle apes; they show off their red bottoms and beat their chests because they fear to be culled from the herd if they show weakness. Even the most inferior of runeberries can suffice for this magic, so we let them be.”

  “Is that why you don’t wear magic like they do?”

  Lady Mykaela grinned at me. “But I am wearing magic, little one. The difference is that it is woven so finely into my hua that you cannot detect it.”

  The people in this part of the city recognized her too and gave us a wider berth. I walked through the crowd with my head down, the ground suddenly more interesting to study than people. Lady Mykaela was used to the silence and walked with her head thrown back and a secret smile on her lips. Fox brought up the rear and paid no attention when those standing closest shrunk back.

  The king and his son stood at the castle gates, welcoming visitors. King Telemaine was a large man of unexpected height. It was easier to imagine him in the smoke of battle or in the aftermath of a bloody duel, not dressed in rich satin robes of dyed purple, with a crown two sizes too small for his head. He had a great black beard clumped against his chin to hide a thin, nearly lipless mouth and bright-green eyes that were more shrewd than clever. His heartsglass was built to size, twice as large as my own but adequate when framed against his massive chest. Beside him was a young boy a year or two older than me, wearing a smaller crown and his father’s eyes. But where King Telemaine’s eyes were a hard and opaque jade, his son’s were deep and gentle emeralds that smiled back despite his serious face. He was easily the most handsome boy I’d ever met. When he caught me staring, I looked away, frantically willing my blush to fade.

  “Lady Mykaela.” The king stepped forward, large hands folding over one of the asha’s and hiding it from everyone’s view. “Thank you for coming, as always.”

  “It is my pleasure, as always. There is a good crowd here. How many heartsglass are present?”

  “Four hundred and eighty in all.”

  I started. In Knightscross, it would be a good year if there were more than twenty thirteen-year-olds for the equinox.

  “We have even less reason to delay, then. The night grows old. This is my apprentice, Tea Pahlavi, and her brother, Fox.”

  “I am enchanted.” King Telemaine was an experienced statesman. The faintest spasm of orange flickered across his heartsglass, but only for the briefest second. I felt an irrational surge of resentment and forgot my embarrassment.

  “No, you aren’t.”

  Both King Telemaine and Mykaela turned to me; the man was curious and the asha cautioning.

  I could understand his disinterest of yet another bone witch in his kingdom, but Fox was a different matter. “My brother died. You told him where, and he went like a good soldier to fight and got nothing but a coffin for his troubles. Surely he deserves more than your indifference”—I gave his heartsglass a pointed glance—“even if it is well concealed.”

  Some of those in his retinue gasped, alarmed by my frankness. Lady Mykaela said nothing.

  The king threw his head back, revealed two rows of square, white teeth to everyone present, and laughed aloud. “Such spirit in this one! You’ve chosen well, Mykaela! She’ll grow your fangs soon enough.”

  “She shows much promise,” Lady Mykaela murmured. “She seems to have learned to read heartsglass with little training.”

  King Telemaine turned to Fox. “I am grateful for the services you rendered your kingdom, young man, and I am sorry for the situation that finds you here. I shall talk to my stewards and ensure that your family will want for nothing. It is small compensation, but it is the least I can do.”

  “You are too kind, Your Majesty.” Fox bowed.

  “It was a bad business. I remember that order, but I had little choice. I could not afford to have my northern borders terrorized by some nameless creature. We never did find the daeva, but my men must have injured it, for the attacks ceased soon after. What are the chances of it slinking off to whatever lair it calls its own to die?”

  “With much respect to Your Majesty,” Fox said, with his usual gravity, “I hope it did not.”

  The king laughed even harder. “I see that you have your hands full with these siblings, Mykaela. Fire and calm, these two, water and flash. Much like my sons. This is Prince Kance.”

  The boy smiled at me, and I felt my cheeks prickle with heat again. “It is my honor to meet you, asha.” He bowed low, and his heartsglass swung with the movement. Like his father’s, it was set in silver and adorned with an intricate working of the royal family crest along its edges: a lion’s silhouette emblazoned against the sun.

  “I’m not an asha,” I stammered. How could a simple smile work such wonders to my heart? “I’m…I’m—”

  “An apprentice,” Lady Mykaela interrupted, taking pity on me, “due to take up her novitiate in Ankyo.”

  “But a bone witch all the same, eh?” The king winked at me. “It has been a rare year. The first new bone witch in decades! Two of you from Odalia, when many other kingdoms are forced to do without. Doesn’t Istera only have that one old crone left, Mykaela? Of course, we don’t have Kion’s heartforger, but he’s old and getting on in years.”

  “Heartforger?” I asked before I could stop myself.

  King Telemaine gestured at my heartsglass with a thick hand.

  “Their heartsglass are silver white, like yours. But they don’t wave magic about like you do, only fire up memories and forge them into new ones.”

  Two others approached the king—one a royal councilor, judging from the robes he wore, and the other a young boy in a brown cloak and hood. I read the blue and yellow palpitations on the older man’s heartsglass, an irregular heartbeat of fright. The other’s was easier to discern—his was beet red with anger, directed at us. I didn’t bother to look at their faces, keeping my eyes on the councilor’s heartsglass instead.

  “Your Majesty,” he stuttered. “We shouldn’t—shouldn’t keep the children waiting.”

  You cannot spend so much time on those witchfolk, the man’s heartsglass seemed to whisper. What would the people think, seeing their king consorting with these pariahs?

  “He is right.” Lady Mykaela laid a firm hand on my arm. “We had best get started. Four hundred and eighty children are waiting.”

  “Kings and queens may be let off with ungracious behavior,” she murmured once we were alone again. “Bone witches may not. Speak in that manner to the king or to anyone else in the palace, and I will box your ears and have you clean the city outhouses for a month. We are welcomed in most of Odalia because of his generosity and are outcasts without.”

  “I promise,” I said meekly, because Lady Mykaela was the kind who carried out anything she threatened, if our time at the daeva mound
was any indication. “What did he mean by heartforgers?”

  She tapped at my heartsglass. “A different magic but with the same color. They’re of more use to the people than bone witches, so they aren’t as reviled. They can take memories and break them into bits and pieces, distill them down into potions and spells, and build them back up into new hearts, bright and counterfeit, so that even we can’t tell one heartbeat from the other. Fortunately, some artificial hearts cost more than a kingdom, and so few people bother.”

  “But why?”

  “For noble reasons and for horrible reasons. Give your heart to the wrong person and they can abuse that trust, and there are spells to prevent you from drawing one anew. When you have enough enemies, it is sometimes necessary to speed up what nature did not intend. The strongest spells require memories. There are many people who wish to forget, and there are many rich enough to pay for the privilege.”

  “But that’s terrible!”

  “People can be terrible, Tea.” Lady Mykaela’s empty heartsglass winked against the light as she turned away, and I wondered what in the asha’s past was responsible for making her so sad.

  • • •

  Only one asha was necessary for the equinox ritual, so I stood aside, watching from the sidelines while Lady Mykaela attended to her task. As her apprentice, I was given a spot among the most junior of the king’s staff: on the edges of the crowd but able to watch the proceedings without looking over everyone else’s heads. Fox, not quite as fortunate, stood somewhere in the middle of the group. It did not matter; I could feel him there, and that was enough.

  We were part of a large audience looking on, where at the center of the town square, a group of children around my age stood expectantly. They were dressed in their prettiest and most expensive clothes and held their empty heartsglass in their hands. After presenting themselves to the king, the boys and girls waited as Lady Mykaela moved down the line, tracing runes as she went.

  Each heartsglass case seemed to me even more elaborate than the next. I could feel poise and composure incantations woven into the dress of one girl so that the crowd marveled even as she fidgeted and squirmed in her lace and satin best. One boy dug a finger into his nose with undue diligence, the spells on him muting the action. It was simpler back in Knightscross, I thought. We were too poor to afford but to behave.

  Behind me, a chorus sang, and instruments were played by unseen hands. Lady Mykaela continued, fingers working at the air, and the people watched, their faces enchanted to hide their disdain of the bone witch—to all but those who can see through the magic and through them.

  “They say you can bring back the dead.”

  I looked behind me. A boy stood there, his hostility obvious.

  “They say you can bring back the dead,” he repeated. “Well? Can you?”

  Most of the people in Kneave had gone out of their way to ignore me, and so his pointed derision took me by surprise. “It depends. Do you require raising?”

  It did not appear to be the answer the boy wanted.

  “Can you, or can’t you?” A black cloak many sizes too big swallowed him up, hid his heartsglass from my view. I could not see the color of his hair, could only see the lower half of his face and one of his eyes, which was hooded and gray. If only I could see his heart, I thought, and tell whether he had reasons to be smug or whether he was merely stupid. At least he did not smell of spells and invocations, none woven into his clothes to mask his disgust. “I’m a bone witch. Of course I can.”

  “My father says bone witches are demon children,” the boy persisted. “They curse the healthy and blight the sane. No other magic would touch them because they sell their hearts to the Dark. That’s how they raise dead men, soulless as they are.”

  “Bone witches do not sell their hearts!”

  The boy’s eyes narrowed. “Because you have no hearts to give, the lot of you. So you take others for your own and bleed them dry. You grow the dead by the armies, and if we don’t keep you in check, you will let them overrun us.”

  “That’s not true.” I grew angrier with every word. I had done nothing for the boy to single me out. “You hate us for nothing more than prejudice.”

  The boy pulled his cloak even tighter around himself. “I know your tricks. My father told me all about your kind. If you can’t see my heartsglass, then you can’t curse me.”

  “I don’t want to curse you.” That was only half the truth, because I was angry and did wish I knew how to shut him up.

  From inside his hood, the boy’s face hardened. “Your kind killed my mother,” he snapped. He turned and fled back into the confines of the crowd but not before his heavy cloak shifted and I saw his heartsglass. It blazed back at me for an instant, a bright-tipped shimmering silver, and then it was gone, lost in the maze of people—and the boy along with it.

  She had changed her hua in the interim. This time, it was of a deep blue, to mimic the depths of the sea. A pattern of waves made up half of the dress before tapering off as it drifted downward, speckled in areas with orange-colored carp and silver-backed trout. The dragon was again a prominent design here, but parts of its body remained hidden behind her waist wrap, which was tinted in turquoise and overlaid with peach and gray seashells, so only its head and front legs stuck out. Its eyes were made of black agate, and they peered out at me with its disproportioned snout raised, tusks on display. Its hind legs jutted out at the bottom of the thick wrap, tail ending in a long, sharp spike.

  To complement her hua, she wore an assortment of jeweled pins on her hair commonly seen in royal courts. The gems dangled from long sticks pushed into her hair, braided and secured by silk bands and fashioned from aquamarine and fire-opal beads.

  “I have made twenty-eight visits to the Akyon oracle.”

  This announcement piqued my curiosity. I was aware of the Ankyo oracle’s importance to the asha of the Willows, but the women are only required to visit her for the most important matters—when she begins a relationship with a patron, for example, or when she pledges service to a king or noble.

  “The average asha makes only two visits to the temple during her time as an apprentice,” she said, sensing my next question. “The first to present herself when she comes to take up residence at the Willows, and the second when she is about to debut as a full-fledged asha. Until she finds a benefactor, she is no longer required to announce herself to the oracle.

  “Unfortunately, the oracle had something very different in mind with me.”

  6

  Where Kneave was a closed city of shuttered trade, Ankyo, the capital of Kion, was a flourishing cornucopia of open spaces and color. It was a kingdom made up of other kingdoms, invaded by one or the other at different times in history before finally breaking away and achieving independence on its own terms. But such influences remained—from the severe-looking headscarves worn by some that were reminiscent of Drycht to the cylindrical top hats favored by men from the Yadosha city-states to the multiple inclined roofs of the houses here, distinctive in Arhen-Koshon and Daanorian architecture. The roads were wider, which I preferred, and most of the houses were simpler in design, no more than small square structures with white walls and angled roofs.

  The Odalian capital was a colorful place, where people showed off their silks and jewelry, and many Kions made up for their simple homes with elaborate wardrobes. I didn’t know how I wasn’t constantly tripping over cloths and hems, for the people favored heavier garments as much for fashion statements as for the colder seasons. Long trains of satin trailed behind the women, coupled with yards of sleeves of intricate designs that hung from their elbows or spilled down from their waists, imitating the asha’s traditional hua. Headscarves were not as common in Ankyo as in Kneave, but every now and then, I spotted a covered head among the crowds. Many here chose to wear their hair loose or had elaborately coiffed hairstyles that sported as many as three or four
gemstone ornaments. The men wore less than the women, but the designs stitched into their long tunics and overcoats covered every inch of space, elaborate to the point of fastidiousness. There was no surface on their clothes that did not have embroidery or patterns or motifs of paisley and crests in some way. Two or three layers of clothing appeared to be the standard, and Lady Mykaela’s beautiful hua suited the Kion fashion perfectly.

  And if the magic the Odalians wore had been enough to make my head spin, the spells here nearly forced me to my knees. Waves of it emanated from nearly every person we passed, and the world spun. I swayed in my saddle, and only Fox’s quick thinking kept me from falling off my horse.

  “Take these.” Lady Mykaela was beside me in a moment, offering me two jeweled pins like the ones she wore in her hair. One was a curved accessory set with beautiful star sapphires, and the other was plainer, shaped like a strangely gnarled crescent moon, and wrapped in silver wire and amethyst. “Pin these to your hair.”

  The dizziness abated when I put both on. I could still feel the magic roaring around me, but it felt strangely muted and no longer hurt my eyes or my mind. “A countermeasure,” the asha explained. “Do not let the simplicity of our city fool you. Kions take their love of magic to an even greater extreme than Odalians do.”

  “Is it always like this?” It seemed offensive to me somehow, how people wasted their magic this way, when the villagers in Murkwick struggle to make every runeberry patch count.

  “There is a reason they call Ankyo the City of Plenty, Tea. Most Kions are rich, which also means they can’t help themselves.”

  Kion castles were different in structure from Odalian castles. They were smaller in size but boasted multiple floors, each layer marked by a bowed rooftop—thinner than the ones in the kingdom of Daanoris but less ornate than those of Arhen-Kosho. The result was not unlike several tiers of sugared cake piled atop one another with pointed spires on every corner curling up into the sky. But this time, Lady Mykaela ignored the palace and turned to a small district nearby and into another world entirely.