A Chime for these Hallowed Bones (Chapter 7, Part 2)
The palanquin was as hot as the street outside, and its curtains were burning. A single chair, almost big enough to be a bench, dominated the boxy interior. At first, Yadleen didn’t sit, worried the mud on her clothes would stain the emerald silk cushions, but then the beast-wight lurched into motion, and she fell into the chair anyway. The cushions were the most comfortable thing she’d ever sat on.
The beast-wight didn’t walk far before stopping again. Yadleen didn’t dare open the burning curtains. Something deep inside her told her that the flames weren’t real, but she had a feeling her benefactor didn’t want people to see her. Eventually, hunger spurred her to explore the corners of the palanquin. She devoured a bag of roasted almonds that she found in a tiny drawer on the side of the chair.
The food didn’t fill the emptiness inside her, but at least her stomach wasn’t knotted anymore.
After what felt like an hour, the beast-wight lurched forward again. It went only a short way before stopping. The door flung open, and the necromancer in black hauled himself inside. Yadleen leapt out of his chair. For a moment, as the necromancer settled into the spot she’d occupied, she had a clear view through the door to the front of Papaji’s haveli.
There was a man standing on the front step, dressed in a navy-blue kurta suit. He looked well-fed, and his hair and beard were groomed. Yadleen recognized details she’d seen in her own reflection – the same ears, the same eyes.
Those eyes widened as Papaji recognized her, too.
Then the necromancer snapped the door shut. He made a rumbling sound in his throat. The palanquin rocked as the beast-wight lurched back into motion, sending Yadleen crashing to the floor.
“I don’t know what you expected, going in there,” the necromancer told her.
He shifted to the left side of the seat, patting the empty space that remained. Yadleen crawled into it. The necromancer reached for the drawer on the side of the chair. A frown flickered across his face – Yadleen guessed he’d found the empty bag of nuts. Then he serenely folded his hands into his lap.
“Your name, Child?” he asked.
“Yadleen …” She hesitated, then continued, “Ka –”
He held up his hand. “I believe the Kapoor household has made it quite clear that they don’t want you associating with them.” Folding his hands once more, he added, “I’m Japjot Baig, the Sultan’s High Necromancer.”
It took Yadleen a moment to remember to bow.
“Now, where is your mother?” Baig probed.
Yadleen’s throat tightened. “Dancing with the Chorus.”
“I suppose that explains this foolish exercise. Have you no other family you could go to?”
Fresh tears blurred Yadleen’s vision. She averted her gaze.
“Hmph. You’re lucky to have only been thrown out. You’re dishonor in flesh. If word got out of your father’s unfaithfulness, no honorable man could do business with him, even if he is the best wire-maker in Kabarāhira.” Baig’s gruff tone softened. “How old are you, Yadleen?”
She swallowed. “Eleven.”
“How long until your twelfth birthday?”
“Nine months.” Yadleen rubbed her eyes and looked up at him.
Baig stroked his beard while he studied her. “I can’t afford to cut ties with your father. I need him for my work, and by extension, the Sultan needs him. His dishonor must not be exposed. So long as you’re unaccounted for, the threat of exposure remains. I can’t allow that.”
The conviction in his voice sent a chill through Yadleen. He sounded like he was about to do something that he knew he shouldn’t. She was suddenly aware of how much smaller she was than Baig, how easily he could hurt her. He was also between her and the door. Her gaze darted to the window on her side of the palanquin. Maybe she could squeeze through and jump into the street.
Baig grasped her wrist before she could leap up. “Your father and I have been negotiating terms for me to apprentice a member of his family. He’s been promising me a boy from his extended relations in the countryside. Today, I asked him if he would provide a girl as well. He consented.”
Between the heat, hunger, and panic, Yadleen needed a few moments to grasp his meaning.
“I warn you, I don’t tolerate indolence or foolishness,” Baig growled. “You will work, you will learn, and when you turn twelve, you will be tested. If you fail to meet my standards, you will be ejected from my household.”
“Why?” Yadleen whispered.
“Because my ossuary is a place of sacred work, not a poor house.”
“No.” She wiped her eyes. “You said I’m ‘dishonor’. Why help me?”
Baig gave her a measured look. “I am a necromancer. It’s my Chorus-given duty to give purpose to the lost. There’s no honor in forsaking that task.” His left hand rose to touch the left side of his head. “None at all.”
* * * * *
Japjot Baig’s sister lay upon what would soon be her deathbed, gazing out the window at the garden. She seemed as unperturbed by what was coming for her as she was by the fires raging across the walls of her room. Yadleen admired that. She hoped that, when death came for her, she would be just as accepting – or, for that matter, as accepting of what may await her on the far side.
Fires. There shouldn’t be fires burning.
It was an intrusive thought, so loud that it almost derailed Yadleen’s train of thought. She forced herself to set it aside. There would be time to worry about the room’s décor later. For now, the old woman’s grandson required her undivided attention.
“Absolutely not,” Rajeev declared, glaring up at Yadleen. “I won’t be a part of this.”
Yadleen answered – except it wasn’t her voice. This voice was deeper, masculine, with the silky accent of a merchant from one of the western sultanates. “Not even if Harpreet wishes it?” A calloused hand, far darker than her own, rose into view, gesturing at the old woman. “You would deny your grandmother her last request?”
“She only ‘wishes it’ because you’ve been manipulating her.”
“That’s not why at all, Rajeev,” Harpreet rasped, not taking her eyes of the garden.
Rajeev whirled towards her, dropping to one knee and taking her hand. “Dadiji, please, think this through. Your brother tried to stone you and imprison your bones in an urn. What possible reason could he have to respect your bones if he doesn’t need to stone you first?”
“Because I know Japjot. Deep down, he is a good man. He is still the Girajha to my Ghugī.” Harpreet finally looked at her grandson. “I know he can be made to see reason.”
“You can’t ask me to take that risk. Please, Dadiji. We can make use of your bones here in Sagamaghara.” Rajeev threw a scathing look at Yadleen. “Don’t let yourself be chained to this world because of promises by some mystic.”
“I’ve done this before.” This time, the intrusive thought had a distinct voice. It sounded like her voice – her own voice, not the voice now coming through her throat.
Confusion welled up inside her. Yadleen felt the urge to turn away, to leave the burning room, but her body stepped her closer to the bed. That confusion turned to frustration as words poured from her lips without her bidding.
“I won’t let it come to that,” she promised Rajeev. “If it does, I’ll recover her bones and see to it that they are repurposed in another way. However, I can’t do this without you, Rajeev.”
“Of course you can,” Rajeev huffed.
The voice began chanting a mantra. “My name is Rajeev Jha. Third Lieutenant, Kimian Ranger Corps. Great-nephew of Japjot Baig, the High Necromancer of Kabarāhira. My name is Rajeev Jha …”
Yadleen felt compelled to keep talking. “I need your zeal. I need your dogged devotion to your grandmother. Frankly, I need a direct descendant of your grandmother to dangle in front of Japjot, because you’re right – he will make the wrong choice again, if he doesn’t have a visceral reminder of his mistake. You can provide that.”
“… of Japjot Baig, the High Necromancer of Kabarāhira! My name is …” The voice had risen to a shout now, and it was deepening, not sounding like either her usual self or the one now coming from her lips.
Rajeev started to stand, mouth opening for another objection, but Harpreet caught his wrist. Softly, she said, “Rajeev, please. No matter what happens to my bones, I can’t leave him behind. I need to give him a chance to make things right.”
The young man looked down at his grandmother. He closed his eyes and drew a shuddering breath. Then he looked up into Yadleen’s face once more.
“What, exactly, do you need from me?” he asked.
Yadleen felt herself smile and draw breath to answer him.
The voice didn’t give her the chance. Suddenly, it was no longer just inside her head. It thundered through the burning room, stabbing into her ears.
“MY NAME IS RAJEEV JHA! THESE BONES DO NOT BELONG TO YOU! GET OUT, ALL OF YOU! GET OUT!”
This last word was roared in the Naga’s Tongue, and a blast of wind followed it. The yellow and jade flames snuffed out. The golden ones lingered, but they guttered.
The room shimmered around Yadleen. Suddenly, she felt a burn in her muscles and the scrape of stone against her palms and knees. Visions of a darkened ghat and a starry sky swam before her. Rajeev’s hands appeared before her, grasping the stairs and pulling upward, step by step.
Brass bells tolled.
Thank you for reading! Chapters 8 and 9 release next Tuesday, March 10th! I hope to see you then!
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