The Bone Palace

opera, but no actor Isyllt knew could feign the strained catch in Savedra’s voice.

“Wait,” she said when Savedra reached the birds, practicality breaking through her absorption in the story. “These creatures wounded you?”

Savedra shrugged. “It wasn’t that bad. More frightening than anything else.” Her right arm twitched-looking closer, Isyllt saw a bulge beneath her sleeve that was probably bandages.

Saints preserve her from clueless anixeroi. “Demon wounds are always that bad. Let me see.”

Buttons lined the sleeve from wrist to elbow. Isyllt unfastened them one by one while Savedra tried not to flinch, until she could see the bandage that wrapped the woman’s forearm. Savedra shuddered like a fly-stung horse as cold tendrils of magic probed the wound.

As far as damage to the flesh went, it wasn’t so bad. No poison in the blood, and she still had use of the arm. But sure enough, traces lingered, black and crimson to unfocused otherwise eyes. And something else, a faint shadow working through her veins-not septicemia, but a magical taint. Isyllt abandoned courtesy and pressed further, sending her magic chasing through Savedra’s flesh till she found the point of origin-a blood-colored shadow on her mouth.

“You ate something tainted, or drank it.” She let go and Savedra flinched back against the chair, her lips bruised with chill.

“I didn’t-Oh, Black Mother.” She scrubbed a hand across her mouth. “Blood. When the bird was killed, its blood sprayed on me. I still remember the taste.”

“Saints. Have you noticed any effects?”

“Dreams. Bad dreams.” She shook her head. “Strange dreams. Oh! I nearly forgot.” She fumbled in her pocket and produced a small bundle of silk. “I found this in Carnavas. I thought it must have belonged to a mage.”

Not again, Isyllt thought with a grimace as she unwrapped the ring. Not a sapphire this time, but a ruby, set in a delicate white gold band. A more decorative stone than hers, cushion-cut and brilliantly faceted beneath a layer of dirt. The purpose of a necromancer’s diamond was not beauty-hence the dulling cabochon shape.

“It was a mage’s, all right.” The stone throbbed in her hand. “Have you touched it?”

“Not since I first picked it up.”

The inside of the silk handkerchief was smeared with grime. Isyllt resisted the urge to clean the stone to study its hue.

“Is it… occupied?” Savedra asked.

“Only diamonds hold ghosts and spirits. Rubies and sapphires and emeralds hold spells instead, or raw power. This one definitely has power.” Power that tasted of rust and sweet scabs in her head, like cinnamon and marrow. Blood magic.

She closed the cloth around it again, before magpie greed made her careless. “I think,” she said to Savedra, “that I’ll be able to help you. I’m hunting a haematurge. Maybe the same one you are.” Savedra slumped in her chair, tension-sharp angles softening. “Also, I can probably remove the magical taint from you. But if I don’t, it will be easier to track her.”

The woman shuddered. “Leave it, then,” she said after a moment.

Isyllt nodded approval. “Were you followed here? You looked nervous when you arrived.”

Savedra’s chin rose as she frowned. “I don’t know. I didn’t see anyone, but my nerves have been bad since I left Carnavas. I dream of birds stalking women through the streets.” She fussed with her buttons, managing one or two before giving up. “I think I saw her tonight, this mysterious Margravine Phaedra. She was at my uncle’s house.”

Isyllt’s hands tingled as they tightened on her chair. “Did she see you?”

“Yes. Do you think I’m in danger?”

“I don’t know. I hope not, but we can’t assume that.”

“No, of course not.” Her mouth twisted. “It’s always best to assume you’re in danger. I have survived the palace this long, after all. What shall we do?”

“I can try to scry her. The ring and the taint in your blood will make powerful foci.” Isyllt pushed herself out of her chair. “Follow me.”

They cleared a space in the center of Isyllt’s workroom and unrolled a map of the city across the bare boards. The corners she pinned with stray mugs and books-not exactly glamorous spellcasting, but she was still too tired for flash and frills.

“What do you need from me?” Savedra asked.

“Stand there-” she pointed to the far end of the parchment, “-and concentrate on Phaedra, anything you know about her.” The ruby ring she laid in the center of the map to serve as a marker.

Isyllt took her place opposite Savedra and closed her eyes. Her right hand clenched till the band of her ring cut into her flesh. Phaedra Severos. She turned the name over in her mind, weighing and tasting it. A pity she didn’t have a face to accompany it, but the ruby should be focus enough.

Her nape prickled as her focus sharpened. Metal scraped and rattled as the ruby ring began to shake. Where are you, Phaedra?

A wall of fog rushed to meet her, dark and red and cloying. The smell of blood and cinnamon filled her nose, coated her tongue, crawled down her throat to choke her. Counter-magic, an obfuscation to thwart prying eyes. Isyllt tried to gather her power, but she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t concentrate. As her vision washed from red to black, she felt a woman’s presence beside her, felt her amusement. Then she fell, an endless dizzying spiral, down and down and down-

“Isyllt!”

Savedra’s face appeared close to hers, eyes dark with panic. The floor was cold and hard beneath her.

“What happened?” She wanted to spit out the lingering reek of blood.

“You fell.” Savedra caught her shoulder and helped her sit up. “The ring started to move, then everything washed red for a heartbeat and you fell.”

“She’s taken precautions,” Isyllt said. The taste of copper dripped into her mouth. She scrubbed a hand across her face and it came away scarlet and sticky-her nose was bleeding. “I can’t break her wards.” And, more quietly, “She’s powerful.”

Fog coiled thick and blue in the streets when Isyllt escorted Savedra out to find a carriage, bleeding orange at lamplight’s touch. Mist swallowed the sky, swallowed everything past a few yards in every direction, but Isyllt knew they weren’t alone in the night. The city lay still and hushed, but the toll of the night bells echoed all around, shivering in Isyllt’s bones.

Savedra jumped at the first peal, then giggled. “Nerves. It still feels like someone’s watching.”

“I think we’re safe from prying eyes for the moment,” Isyllt lied, giving her a lopsided smile.

They found a carriage two streets over, and Isyllt tipped the driver well to make sure Savedra reached the palace safely. Not that the man could do much if a sorceress attacked, but it made her feel a little better.

“I’ll contact you as soon as I learn anything more,” she said as she helped Savedra into the cab. “Please be discreet.”

Savedra’s glare conveyed a wealth of don’t teach your grandmother to suck eggs, reminding Isyllt again that she was a scion of the Eight, and a skilled courtier besides. She covered Isyllt’s hand with her own grey-gloved one, though, and that spoke only gratitude. “I’ll do the same,” she said as the door closed. “Thank you.”

When the carriage was out of sight, Isyllt slipped into the nearest fog-shrouded alley. A moment later her ring chilled as death breathed over her.

“What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you,” Spider said from behind her. “Keeping an eye on you-I hear of sickness and death in the city.”

“Some might call that pursuance. The law frowns on it.”

This time she followed him more easily as he moved in front of her. Either she was growing used to it or feeding made him slow. His skin was no less pale, but stolen heat suffused his flesh. He stroked her cheek with one long hand. “Some might call it affection.”