A Chime for these Hallowed Bones (Chapter 6, Part 1)
From the topmost step of the ghat, the Well looked less like a watery crater than it did a plate of burning oil. The inferno of intermingled bhūtas – yellow and jade, with spots of gold throughout – was mesmerizing. This angle also allowed Yadleen to see the dozens of bhūtas that milled about on the slopes of the crater and the steps of the ghat. Most stayed close to the water, though she did see one enterprising spirit had meandered to near the top of the slope. That would be one for the street shepherds to deal with.
She descended the stairs with exaggerated, swaying steps. The silver bells in her plait chimed in time with her motion. After several seconds’ delay, she heard Akal make the same music. He lightly tapped the staff against the steps, five beats at a moderate tempo, just hard and fast enough to ensure that the chimes chittered in time with the ringing of his bells.
Halfway down the steps, they encountered a trio of jade bhūtas. Yadleen had little doubt they were the ones the back-alley necromancers had fought off. While body language was hard to read for an amorphous figure of flame, she got the distinct impression of three drunken men who’d collapsed onto hands and knees after a severe beating. They were as belligerent as drunks, too. As Yadleen descended to within eight steps of them, they babbled at her in an unintelligible slurry that was barely recognizable as the Naga’s Tongue. Their voices were dry, androgenous monotones filled with crackles and pops.
“Extraction disrupted. Present –”
“– intrusion. Unauthorized –”
“– present query – ”
The music from her plait was loud enough to affect them once she came within five steps. Their babbling trailed off into silence. They sat still and watched sullenly as she swayed past them. Yadleen didn’t worry about them changing their minds and sneaking up behind her. Akal would be keeping watch and, if necessary, drive them away with a more forceful application of the staff.
The ghat plunged into the pool, continuing deeper into the Well. Yadleen halted on the last step above the waters. She was low enough now for the horned heads of the bhūtas to obscure her view of the Well’s opposite rim. The spectral mass shimmered before her. She felt the tingling pressure of countless gazes upon her, as if she’d just entered a room filled with masked figures. Above her, the staff went silent as Akal and Rajeev halted. It sounded like they’d stopped ten steps further up.
Yadleen took a deep breath and signaled Akal with an upraised hand. The chimes clashed once as he slammed the staff down. The inferno rippled like candles caught in a gust of wind, and the pressure of unseen gazes intensified. Next, she drummed her fingers along the edge of the tambourine’s calfskin head. The beat made the jingles rustle drily. To finish the sequence, she rattled the tambourine for two seconds and gave it a single firm shake.
In the Naga’s Tongue, Yadleen declared, “Archives. Query. Search.”
A golden bhūta emerged from the inferno. It walked fully erect, and only one of its feet was turned backwards. Faint ripples danced across the pool as it shuffled towards her. It stopped at the edge of the protective bubble of music from her bells.
“Archivist,” it introduced itself, speaking in the same unnatural monotone as the jade bhūtas but without the distortion. “Identify parameters.”
Yadleen drummed a shorter sequence on the tambourine and relayed her instructions. “Necromancy. Wight fabrication. Unnamed. Taint.”
“Received. Processing.” The archivist waded back into the inferno.
Interactions with bhūtas were usually like this: short, abrupt, fragmented. The dead once had trades and talents of their own, and when it came to those fields, they could be eloquent, but it fell upon necromancers to sift those experts from the dross.
The archivist returned with three bhūtas in tow, all composed of yellow flame. Yadleen played a few more notes on the tambourine and repeated, “Necromancy. Wight fabrication. Unnamed. Taint.”
Two of the three newcomers immediately wandered off. The third crept towards her. “Of course we can’t make use of Unnamed bones in the palace!” it sputtered in Ātapararan. Instead of sounding like a bhūta, it used a reedy voice that reminded her of a wizened palace bureaucrat. “The man should be Unnamed for even suggesting it. Send him a letter immediately, reprimanding him for –“
Yadleen silenced the bhūta with a sharp rattle of the tambourine. This was a disappointing result, but she hadn’t really expected better on the first try. The bhūta couldn’t understand what it was quoting. A scribe-wight had probably overheard the conversation, made an association between it and certain words in the Naga’s Tongue, and then passed the memory around to the lamp-wights in its vicinity, who eventually handed it off to this individual.
She turned to the archivist and adjusted her parameters. “Necromantic texts. Wight fabrication. Unnamed. Prohibition.”
The second group of bhūtas the archivist rounded up were just as unhelpful. The third included a jade bhūta who was able to quote necromantic texts. A slight tweak of her parameters brought more jade bhūtas with similar knowledge. Frustrating, all of them recited lore she already knew. None of them yielded the primary source she needed. A crowd of the dead grew around the foot of the ghat with each successive rejection, thickening into a semicircular wall of ghostfire.
Above her, she heard Rajeev mutter to Akal in Ātapararan. “Why are only the jade ones helpful?”
“Because they’re less degraded than the yellow ones, of course,” Akal answered. “Did you think we shove the yellow ones into lamps for the aesthetics?”
“Degraded?” Rajeev probed.
“The Naga claimed they have decayed from what they once were. Apparently, there was a time when the dumbest were as smart and self-aware as that gold one. Don’t ask me how they all ended up like this. Whatever’s wrong with them, it’s happening too slowly for us to observe.”
Yadleen bit her tongue to avoid rebuking them. Even she had to admit it was a fair question. Besides, Rajeev was complying with her instructions. As long as she was the only one using the Naga’s Tongue, the bhūtas would ignore them and focus on her.
The archivist brought forth a fourteenth group. Yadleen’s heart sank as a procession of yellow figures emerged from the flaming wall. Before she could dismiss them, the final member of the procession stepped forth. This bhūta’s ghostfire wasn’t jade, or even gold. It was azure. Sheets of cyan ghostfire curled around its body, giving the impression of a burning robe. Not only did it stand fully erect, but its feet were both turned in the proper direction.
Yadleen’s heart rattled in her chest, and her mouth went dry.
“Pull back, Yadleen,” Akal warned softly.
“What?” Rajeev asked.
“That thing is why those big bells are up there. Back up the steps, nice and slow.”
Yadleen kept her eyes on the azure bhūta. Its burning, featureless face stared back at her. She thought she could see two indigo sparks hovering in the flames, where its eyes might be.
Instead of retreating, she took a half-step forward, hanging her toes over the water’s edge.
“Come on, Yadleen!” There was an edge in Akal’s voice this time. “Even Babaji wouldn’t talk to that thing!”
Akal was right. This bhūta was too powerful to be reined in by chimes, tambourines, or bells in one’s hair. It was too aware of itself to blindly obey the Naga’s Tongue.
How often does one this powerful come to the surface? It’s not like the archivist could compel it to come. It must have heard my query and decided to come on its own.
Master Baig wouldn’t hesitate if he were in her place. He’d already be retreating.
But this is for Master Baig’s sake. A bhūta like this either has the information I need or can find it far more quickly than the archivist could.
“Yadleen!” Akal’s voice was firmer now.
Yadleen cleared her throat and called out to the azure bhūta. “Inquiry. I need information regarding the interaction of wight fabrication and dishonor. Can you help me?”
The azure bhūta cocked its head to the side. “You shall address me as, ‘Oracle.’”
The voice was female, melodic, and bore a thick accent that emphasized the final syllables of its words. Moreover, it was startlingly clear of distortion. If Yadleen covered her eyes and listened to only this spirit’s voice, she could have mistaken Oracle for a living woman.
“Can you help me, Oracle?” Yadleen repeated.
Thank you for reading! Part 2 of Chapter 6 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!
