A Chime for These Hallowed Bones (Chapter 1)
It was just after noon when the graverobber trespassed in Master Baig’s reception hall, bringing with him a sack of human bones. Red clay caked both him and the sack. A fetid reek preceded him, overwhelming the ambient aromas of lye and cleaning alcohol as he marched up to Yadleen at the reception counter. He reverently rested the filthy sack on the polished marble countertop.
Yadleen fought the urge to gag. When the graverobber opened the sack, she flinched, half-expecting to find rotten effluvia mixed in with the skeleton, but the bones were clean and dry. The smell had to be coming from the clay.
“I must see Japjot Baig,” the graverobber croaked.
Yadleen breathed through her mouth while she deliberated. There was little doubt that this man was a graverobber. Visitors to the hallowed halls of Master Baig’s ossuary typically bathed first. They also dressed presentably: pleated shalwar trousers and a long kameez tunic for the more traditional types, or a kurta suit for those of a modern bent. That this man was trying to offload a skeleton without cleaning up first was a sure sign he hadn’t come by these bones via moral means.
Master Baig can’t be seen doing business with a graverobber. I owe him too much for that.
Of course, defending her master’s unimpeachable honor was only half of the equation. Master Baig was the High Necromancer of Kabarāhira, cousin to the Sultan himself, and he comported himself with the dignity that position demanded. Hurling accusations at a visitor, no matter how self-evident the crime, was beneath him. It had to be beneath his journeymen as well.
“May I see the paperwork?” she finally asked.
The graverobber’s reddened eyes widened, and his mouth hung open, revealing oddly white teeth. “Paperwork?”
“The certificate of custodianship, to certify that you are the legal guardian of these remains, and a writ of sanctification from any priest of the Chorus.”
“That won’t be necessary,” the graverobber blustered. “Your master will vouch for me. This is a family affair.”
Yadleen doubted that. Master Baig’s family all dwelt in the Kabarāhira Sultanate, either here in Kabarāhira City or on estates in the northern marches. The graverobber’s accent overemphasized his vowels, hinting that he came from one of the eastern sultanates – Phusaphakhā, perhaps.
Nevertheless, she played along. “Master Baig is honored to accommodate his family, but he’s a very busy man, and he remains subject to the Sultan’s laws. He must see proof that these bones have been accounted for by both mortals and the gods. We also need you to schedule an appointment for us to examine the remains and verify their structural and psychometric integrity, which I’m happy to –”
The graverobber pounded his fist on the countertop. “There’s no time for any of that! Please, just let me speak with him!” His eyes darted to the black-and-green brocade curtains behind Yadleen.
He’s going to storm the workshop.
Yadleen wasn’t in any position to stop him if he did. Necromancy was a trade that encouraged dexterous hands but soft bodies. To make matters worse, Cyrus was back there, having his skeleton cleaned by some of the apprentices. While the beast-wight was smart enough to recognize trespassers, he could charitably be described as single-minded. The apprentices might get trampled in his haste to expel an intruding graverobber.
Best to lure Cyrus away from them before that happens.
“Happy to schedule for you,” Yadleen continued. She drew a ledger out from beneath the countertop, using the motion as an excuse to place her right hand on the push-bell hidden just below the graverobber’s field of view. “I believe the Master will have time for a consultation early next week.”
“No! It has to be today!” The graverobber’s eyes grew wild.
Yadleen stood her ground. “There is plenty of time. As long as the bones remain intact, they can be fabricated into a wight. No matter whether it’s tomorrow or next week or a year from now, Master Baig will –”
“She’s waited long enough! Please!” The graverobber sucked in a deep breath and bellowed, “Girajha! Girajha!”
Yadleen had no idea why the graverobber was shouting for a vulture, but clearly, talking him down wasn’t going to work. She slapped the push-bell. Its clarion chime echoed through the reception hall.
A great moan, like wind hissing through rocks, answered it. Through the curtain, Yadleen heard the apprentices squeal and scatter, followed by four sets of bony toes clopping on the marble floor. The curtain rustled. Cyrus must have pushed his skull through it, for a glow like a green-white bonfire bathed the reception hall.
The graverobber’s eyes widened, and his voice failed him, but he didn't run.
Yadleen used the opportunity to fish a pair of finger cymbals from the cuff of her left sleeve. The push-bell worked perfectly well for summoning Cyrus, but detailed commands required more precise instruments. The cymbals tinkled as she tapped out coded, musical instructions.
Cyrus moaned again and obeyed. The rest of his skeleton followed his skull through the curtain, accompanied by the musical drumbeat of his toes and the acrid punch of freshly applied alcohol. He squeezed around to the counter to face the graverobber head-on.
Already, Yadleen felt safer. Cyrus had been fabricated from the bones of hippopotamus. The top of his shoulder was level with Yadleen’s eyes and the graverobber’s throat. Braids of copper wire bound together his bleached skeleton, and silver inlay shone within the prayers etched into each bone. Dozens of bhūtas, those ancient spirits who haunted the lands around Kabarāhira, had been bound to those bones, forming into a furnace of ghostly jade fire within his ribcage and skull. They sent burning tendrils twining down his legs to replace muscle and sinew. Eight enormous fangs curled from his elongated jaws, including a pair of tusks on the lower mandible.
A sensible person would have fled. The graverobber took a single step back, pivoting to put himself between Cyrus and the sack of bones. His voice shook only a little as he resumed his shrill mantra. “Girajha! Girajha!”
Yadleen clashed the cymbals again. Cyrus advanced and turned his head, clipping the graverobber with the side of his jaw. The force of the blow sent the man staggering towards the door to the street.
“Girajha!” the graverobber raved. “Girajha! Gi –”
“What is the meaning of this?”
The thunder of Master Baig’s voice silenced the graverobber. Cyrus froze, sensing the will of the necromancer who’d animated him. Yadleen stiffened as well. No matter how many years passed, she’d never gotten used to hearing Master Baig raise his voice. It always made her feel like a child once more.
She whirled towards the curtain and bowed. “Apologies for the disturbance, Master!”
Master Baig wore a silver turban and gray kurta suit today. Yadleen imagined she saw lightning crackling in his steely beard and dancing among the silver bells on his turban. A wordless command rumbled in his throat, and Cyrus obediently shuffled aside to give him a clear view of the graverobber. His ferocious scowl deepened. Yadleen waited for his wrath to strike and send the graverobber scurrying from the ossuary.
Instead, after a strained pause, Master Baig merely growled, “Have you no shame? One does not march into an ossuary and make a scene. We do sacred work here.” He half-turned to Yadleen. “Does he have his paperwork in order?”
“No, Master.”
Master Baig shook his head and addressed the man again. “I trust someone sent you to me? Were you not told what you’d need to bring?”
The graverobber’s jaw tightened, and he lifted his chin. “I have a letter of recommendation.”
Master Baig swept around the counter and extended his hand. The man fumbled in his pocket and offered a crumpled, weather-stained envelope. Master Baig eased it open. Yadleen watched his jaw tighten as he read the first few lines of the letter.
“Inexcusable ignorance,” Master Baig spat, “but let it not be said that I turn away a man in genuine need. Yadleen!”
“Yes, Master?” She hurried around the counter to join him.
“Take these bones down to Catacomb Four. Proceed with the integrity test.” Raising his voice slightly, Master Baig barked, “Akal!”
One of Yadleen’s fellow journeymen popped through the curtain. Like Yadleen, he wore a moss-green kameez, and his brown hair was woven into a necromancer’s plait. Silver bells were threaded through the plait.
“You called?” Akal asked with an effusive smile, as if the scene he’d stepped into was perfectly ordinary.
“Bring this man to my haveli. See to it he bathes, provide him with clean clothes, and feed him. Once he’s recovered his wits, bring him back here. I’ll discuss his options with him then.”
Akal half-bowed. Then, with grace Yadleen had come to envy, he glided soundlessly across the hall to seize the graverobber’s elbow. Yadleen followed, causing the bells in her own plait to tinkle.
The graverobber tightened his grip when she laid her hands on the fetid sack.
“Either do as the Master says, or apologize for disturbing him and get out,” Yadleen hissed between her teeth.
Slowly, graverobber let go. He whispered, “Take good care of her.”
Yadleen clutched the sack to her chest, trying not to think about the foul stain that the clay would leave on her kameez. She watched Akal drag the graverobber to the street. The man’s gaze lingered on the bones until he was out of sight. Shivering, Yadleen turned to bear the bones through the workshop.
Master Baig grasped her shoulder as she passed him. “I want a full autopsy, Yadleen, not just an integrity check.”
“Yes, Master,” she answered.
“Write nothing down. Seal the catacomb when you’re done and set a warrior-wight on it.”
Yadleen hesitated. Her master never deviated from procedure like this. If anyone knew he was doing so now, after an obvious graverobber had sullied his ossuary, it would look incredibly suspicious.
I’m sure people said the same thing when he took me in. The shocked, outraged face of one of his business associates flashed before her. They were certainly thinking it.
Master Baig had earned her loyalty that day. She wouldn't challenge him – not yet, at least. Instead, she asked, “Just whose bones are these, Master?”
“Someone who should not have come home,” he decreed. “I want to hear your findings before sunset.”
Thank you for reading! Chapter 2 is now available! Also, if you enjoy what you read here, please share this chapter (and the rest of A Chime for These Hallowed Bones) with others!
