A Chime for These Hallowed Bones (Chapter 12)
The sting of Akal’s casual mockery hadn’t fully faded by evening prayers. At the sound of the temple organs, Yadleen stopped polishing the ossuary’s reception counter and bowed her head, as was proper, but her mind wandered back to his cruel words.
How could you spit on me like that, Akal? Is it just because Rajeev is your cousin?
Blood was only a vessel for honor. It didn’t automatically grant it. If sharing an ancestor was the only thing that mattered, then Ātapararans would be a nation mightier than either the Hegemony or the Kimian Empire, instead of being a handful of sultanates split between those mighty powers. Only those whose ancestors hadn’t forsaken the Chorus for other gods deserved the honor of being called Ātapararan.
Rajeev is the scion of an Unnamed woman. Even I have more of a right to the Baig family name than him. How could you side with him so easily, Akal, even after he tried to kill you?
“Yadleen. Are you still coming tonight?”
She jumped. The organs had fallen silent. Gagan stood in the curtained doorway to the workshop. A puzzled scowl creased his boyish face.
“Tonight?” she repeated.
“To the theatre.”
The theatre. Right.
The drama surrounding Rajeev’s arrival had driven it from her mind. The owner of the Singh Theatre had gifted Master Baig with four tickets to the grand opening, a showing of the popular stage play Echoes of the Chimes. The gesture wasn’t one of gratitude: many sought to inflate their own honor by having the High Necromancer as their personal guest. Master Baig had seen the gift for what it was and sidestepped the matter by appointing Gagan to go in his place. Gagan being Gagan, he’d offered one of the remaining tickets to Yadleen.
“The Master said he’s tasked you with a special project,” Gagan added. “Didn’t know if you needed to focus on that.”
“It’s … not urgent,” Yadleen said. “There’s nothing more I can do for it tonight. I forgot to bring proper attire, though. I’ll need to run home.”
Gagan’s scowl softened. “We have a couple of hours. Why don’t you go change? I’ll let the Master know where you’ve gone.”
“Thank you, but there’s no need to tell the Master. I need to give him a report, anyway.”
Gagan didn’t step aside when she tried to move through the curtain. He looked like he was chewing on a particularly tough piece of gristle. Yadleen didn’t wait for him to work through whatever thoughts he was having. She simply pushed aside the other half of the curtain and headed for Master Baig’s office.
Conversation with Gagan was often like this. He, unlike Akal, understood the complicated relationship between shame and blood ties, though he seemed to have trouble making peace with it. Being alone with him was often a painfully awkward experience.
If only Akal would be that awkward around Rajeev.
The door to Master Baig’s office was open. The bone augers and various wights filled the space with a merry glow, accented by the soft twinkle of the chimes outside the window. Master Baig dictated a letter to his scribe-wight. His posture was stiff, but no more than usual. It was as if Rajeev had never come here.
Yadleen waited for him to notice her and signal the scribe-wight to stop writing before she spoke. “Master, I’m leaving for the day.”
“Very well.” He flipped to the next page of the contract he was perusing. “Enjoy the show tonight.”
“I also wanted to report that I’ve started cleaning out the Dosanjh townhouse. Akal is … helping me.”
“Is that so?” Master Baig met her gaze.
“I thought you should know that Akal has been using that townhouse as his personal residence.”
She considered saying more than that. After all, Akal was so lax in the security of his little side project that every unbound bhūta in the city likely knew about it already. Still, Master Baig knew Akal as well as her. There was no need to shout these shameful activities from the rooftops.
Master Baig’s heavy sigh confirmed that he’d read between the lines. “Did he agree to leave the premises when you showed up?”
“Yes, Master. He’s clearing out now. I don’t think he’ll be moving his belongings back to the haveli.”
“If you can, find out where he’d relocating to. At least we can keep him honest.” Master Baig shook his head despairingly.
“Furthermore, I’ve identified a candidate for that palace wight project. I should have the certificate of custodianship within the next few days. The bones haven’t been blessed yet, but I’ll ensure that’s done by the Calm, at the latest.”
By this, of course, Yadleen meant she’d get those Unnamed bones consecrated during the Calm. It was a bittersweet day of celebration and mourning that marked the official end of the Great War. Critically, it was a state holiday for the Hegemony, not a religious festival. The priests who consecrated wights wouldn’t have the day off, but they would be distracted by the promise of feasting. If she brought in the bones on that day, they’d bless the bones quickly and send her on her way without looking too closely at the paperwork.
“Not during the Calm itself, I hope,” Master Baig reminded her. “The Sultan requires our presence.”
Inwardly, Yadleen kicked herself. The theatre wasn’t the only commitment Rajeev had made her forget. As the High Necromancer, Master Baig and his journeymen were expected to be present at the palace for every ritual, every ceremony, and of course the feast. Not even Akal would try to sneak away from that. Yadleen would have to get the bones consecrated on another day.
Or entrust this task to Rajeev, too. Will he accuse the priests of being rakshasas? Or can he keep his mouth shut long enough to get the job done?
“Certainly not on the Calm, Master. I will be by your side on that day,” she promised.
“Very good.” Master Baig turned his gaze back to the contract. “If that’s all, Yadleen ...”
“Actually, Master, there’s one more thing I wished to consult with you about.”
“Hmm?” He arched his brow.
Yadleen weighed her next words carefully. She was caving to Rajeev’s paranoia, she knew, but he wasn’t entirely wrong. Akal’s ability to bypass the townhouse guard proved how easy it would be for a rakshasa to wander in. That was something they simply couldn’t afford once the Unnamed bones were on the premises.
“I had a technical question about the binding prayers. Specifically, the ones we use to make sure wights recognize specific people.” She paused, giving Master Baig a chance to cut in, but he merely steepled his fingers and waited patiently. “For palace wights, why do we not give them the ability to recognize rakshasas? Would it not be in the Sultan’s best interests for us to do so?”
A grimace shadowed Master Baig’s face. He answered her with a question. “Why do we not make chef-wights?”
“I understand that bhūtas lack certain senses, Master, yet I’ve heard back-alley necromancers claim it’s possible. Is that merely a lie to extort the gullible?” she added quickly, seeing how quicky Master Baig’s expression darkened at the mention of those illicit actors.
To her surprise, he growled, “It’s not told to extort the gullible. It’s told to expose traitors. If any back-alley necromancer promises to do this for you, or offers to teach you the secret, understand that individual is an agent of the Hegemony. They’re either a rakshasa or a human necromancer who is in the Vizier of Harmony’s pocket. Anyone seeking such a service becomes an object of suspicion. Do not even think of such things, Yadleen. It is the surest way to guarantee that a rakshasa infiltrates your life and pokes into your affairs.”
The bitterness in his voice left little doubt as to who he was thinking of. Yadleen hastily changed course. “I see. To give a palace wight this ability would bring needless suspicion upon the Sultan, wouldn’t it?”
“Correct.” Master Baig’s shoulders slumped. He offered her the ghost of a smile. “The Sultan, much like you, is honorable. The Hegemony knows he has nothing to hide from them. He has no reason to act like they are his enemies.”
“Of course not, Master. Thank you for correcting me.” She began to turn away, but hesitated.
“Was there something else?”
“What about rakshasas who are not loyal to the Hegemony? Should we not protect him against them?”
Master Baig shook his head. “You know the Hegemony’s stance on humans policing the whims of rakshasas. To remain in their good graces, the Sultan must accept the risk. We all must.”
Yadleen’s stomach knotted. “As you say, Master.”
“Enough about necromancy for one night. Go. Enjoy yourself.” Master Baig went back to his letters. “You’ve certainly earned an evening free of worries.”
She bowed and took her leave.
