A Chime for These Hallowed Bones (Chapter 10, Part 1)
Daylight transformed Kabarāhira from a city of the dead into one of the living.
Crowds flowed along cobbled streets between buildings of marble, alabaster, or various whitewashed materials. The poor dressed in cotton, while the rich draped themselves in silk, but all wore vibrant colors. The uniforms of the attendant-wights and warrior-wights going about their masters’ business were no less brilliant. Daylight washed out the wights’ ghostfire, so only their rigid postures and bow-legged gaits made the dead stand out from the masses. Above the chatter of pedestrians, wind chimes tinkled in the breeze. Unbound bhūtas kept to the relative quiet of back alleys.
Rajeev insisted on leading Yadleen through this awakened chaos. He’d wander for several blocks, ask cryptic questions to the guide-wight at a random intersection, and set off in a new direction. They gradually zigzagged around the north slope of Kabarāhira’s great hill, going the opposite direction from last night’s excursion. More than once, Rajeev nearly walked into a trade lane. Yadleen had to pull him back and guide him to a pedestrian bridge to avoid the heavy-laden wains pulled by a menagerie of beast-wights.
Eventually, their meandering route brought them to the Graveyard. Yadleen fought the urge to slap him. If Rajeev had just admitted that his forger contact lived in the foreigners’ quarter, she could have saved them an hour of wandering.
No wall surrounded the Graveyard. The architecture didn’t change. However, the complexions of the living grew noticeably fairer, darker, or redder than normal for Ātapararans. Wights all but vanished. Even the lamp-wights were replaced by skull-shaped oil lamps. Accents overstrained vowels, became nasal, or grew more guttural, but that couldn’t distract Yadleen from the unnerving quiet. There were very few wind chimes here.
She was unnerved by this lack of basic security that she almost overlooked the daímōns.
Div slaves replaced attendant-wights and warrior-wights. Their hulking, horned, purple forms loomed over the crowds. Many bore the palanquins of their parī masters, allowing those winged women to travel with a measure of privacy. Djinn merchants dressed in fine silks hawked wares gathered from across the Hegemony, the Empire, and the eerie homelands of the daímōns. A man with the fur and head of a tiger stalked along the street, trailed by a trio of robed attendants who resembled tanuki. There were stranger things down the alleyways, but Yadleen knew better than to look.
No law compelled foreigners, whether human or daímōn, to concentrate in this one spot. They congregated on their own accord. This slice of the eastern slope, the toes of the Sultan’s palace to the walls of the city, was the only area that bhūtas avoided, even during the chaos of a mass breakout. Yadleen hoped Rajeev wouldn’t notice this and ask her why that was. Much like the mystery of why bhūtas originated beneath the Well, the answer was one only the Chorus knew.
Thankfully, Rajeev didn’t seem interested in the workings of the bhūtas today. He also didn’t need to ask for any more directions. They’d only been walking for another few minutes when he halted outside of a jewelry shop and stepped out of the street, standing just out of view of the shop’s front window. Yadleen followed suit.
He spoke in a low voice. “You can explain exactly what documents we need, can’t you?”
“Of course I can.”
“Good.” Rajeev took a deep breath. “You need to handle this next part for me. The man in there will help you, but he can’t know I’m here.”
“I take it this has something to do with why you went straight to Master Baig without any paperwork, instead of coming to him first?”
Rajeev hesitated. “Let’s just say that, if I had known I’d needed the papers, I still would have tried my luck with Dadiji’s letter alone.”
“Why?” Yadleen folded her arms. “You might as well tell me. I’m already committed to this.”
That same scowl she’d seen in the summoning chamber – his tell when he was indecisive, she realized – danced across Rajeev’s face. Yadleen stood her ground. At length, he relented.
“The owner of that shop is an operative of the Imperial Inquisition,” he said flatly.
Yadleen was stunned. “He’s what?”
Rajeev had the gall to look relieved. Perhaps he thought she didn’t know what the Inquisition was. “He’s a preserver of –”
“He’s a member of the Empire’s secret police?”
“– the Empire’s cultural laws,” Rajeev finished.
“What is one of them doing here? Everyone knows the Empire’s spying on us, but isn’t the Inquisition supposed to spy on other alchemists?”
Rajeev shook his head. “He’s an observer, not a spy. The Inquisition doesn’t just exist to preserve the Archon’s vision, you know. They want to educate. Part of that education means keeping track of how far behind the …” He hesitated. “I mean, monitoring the cultural attitudes of our neighbors.”
His jab about Kabarāhira being a ‘barbaric country’ flashed to mind. Yadleen had a feeling he’d nearly referred to her by an equally insulting term. “And why would a cultural observer be able to forge official documents?”
“He’s also supposed to help refugees and any Rangers in dire straits. I feel like this qualifies.”
“Sound like you could just walk in there and ask for what we need.”
“Oh, I could. And once he figures out I’m a Ranger – and he will, even if I lie, because these people can pick up on things like that – he’s going to report my location back to his superiors. They’ll talk to my superiors. Then a Ranger extraction team will come to drag me back home. I’d rather not have that happen before Dadiji’s last request is fulfilled.” He waved his hand. “If you go in there and just explain Dadiji’s circumstances in general terms, we avoid that whole mess.”
It was a rather convoluted excuse, but Yadleen was too tired to pick it apart. Instead, she said, “The last time I tried to bluff someone, it didn’t go well.”
“You don’t have to bluff. Be honest about why you need his help. Just don’t mention my name or Dadiji’s.” Rajeev grasped her shoulders. “The worst he can do – to you, anyway – is refuse. And if he does, we can fall back on those flensers you mentioned.”
Yadleen considered peeling him off her, but the thought of grabbing his hands made her think of his gentle grip, and suddenly, making a fuss about this seemed childish. “Fine. I’ll do my best. Is there a code word I need to give him, or anything like that?”
“If you tell him you my grandmother was a civilized woman, that will warm him to you.” Rajeev released her.
Yadleen snorted. “I should have guessed.” She took a moment to tidy her kameez before brushing past Rajeev and entering the shop.
It was a cramped, gloomy establishment. An oil lamp hung in the middle of the room, but even the little light that flittered through the front window outshone it. The air was heavy with lily perfume. A polished wooden countertop formed a horseshoe around the side and back walls.
Yadleen took one look at the glass cases of merchandise behind the counter and fought to contain a scornful laugh. It was the cheapest jewelry she’d ever seen. There were no pearls, no amber, no nacre or coral or ivory. Instead, the cases glittered with gold and silver and gemstones. It looked pretty, but all of it could be manufactured with alchemy. The Kimian Empire had devalued these substances years ago.
This is the worst possible cover for an agent of the alchemists. How does this place even stay in business?
“Help you, ma’am?” a voice rasped.
Yadleen looked towards the rear of the shop and nearly jumped out of her skin.
Chapter 10 Part 2 is now available!
If you’d like to learn more about where Rajeev’s from, you can stories of the Kimian Empire here!
