A Chime for these Hallowed Bones (Chapter 8, Part 2)
Master Baig was already in his office by the time Yadleen arrived. The room was still devoid of the dead. However, rather than light candles, he’d thrown open the curtains. Glass and silver chimes, hanging from the eaves just outside the window, tinkled merrily as they danced on the dawn breeze.
“The dead were restless last night,” he greeted her, not looking up from the letter he was writing.
Yadleen closed the office door behind her. “Yes, Master. I heard the bells.”
“And I didn’t hear Akal when I returned home.”
She weighed her options and decided an indirect response was best. “I imagine the alchemist asked Akal to show him the nightlife. I doubt he’s ever been in a city that never truly sleeps.”
“Hearing the bells for the first time must have been quite a shock for him, mustn’t it?” Master Baig’s tone was more pointed this time.
“I’m sure Akal kept him out of danger,” Yadleen said.
Master Baig set the letter aside to dry and laid down his quill. Only then did he meet her gaze. Judging by the shadows under his eyes, he hadn’t slept any more than she had.
“Yadleen, you’ve held journeyman status for quite some time, yet you’ve never taken the opportunity to work outside of the ossuary. Perhaps it’s time you broadened your experiences.”
In her haze of weariness, Yadleen didn’t quite catch his meaning. “I haven’t had much interest in being a street shepherd.”
“All the same, if you only experience the same things over and over, you won’t grow as a necromancer.” He touched the letter. “I’ve received word from my colleague in Pujāhārī that he plans to retire. He doesn’t have any journeymen or apprentices prepared to take over. I’d like you to choose three apprentices and assume responsibility of his ossuary for the time being.”
Pujāhārī was about as far as one could get from Kabarāhira without leaving the sultanate. It was the sort of place Akal would get banished to if his eavesdropping exposed him to a particularly shameful secret. A relative kept at that distance could do little to mar Master Baig’s honor.
The same’s true in reverse. Yadleen nearly burst into tears. You wily bastard.
Somehow, she kept her voice steady as she said, “If it’s truly your wish that I broaden my experiences, Master, I’ll honor your judgment. There’s just something I need to do here first.”
His brow furrowed. “And what might that be?”
“I want a chance to fabricate a wight for the Sultan,” she said. “Independently, as the lead necromancer, not as your second. And I’d like to handle the whole process, including the sourcing of the bones.”
Master Baig’s eyes flashed. Outside, the breeze died. The sudden quieting of the chimes made the brittle silence more acute.
Slowly, Master Baig rose from his chair. “Yadleen, I won’t deny that you have exceeded expectations as a necromancer. However, you know the Sultan’s standards as well as I. Certain responsibilities must remain in my hands.”
“I’m not suggesting that you wouldn’t have oversight, Master.” That had been her hope, as it was his best chance for plausible deniability, but the High Necromancer had to inspect all palace wights, and Master Baig was too honorable to shirk that duty. “I’m merely requesting permission to perform the labor. You subcontract out the work for the palace’s attendant-wights all the time. I’m not asking for anything different.”
“Except that you are. You are my pupil, Yadleen. Any work of your hands will be perceived as my own.” Master Baig paced around the desk.
Yadleen wished the breeze would pick up again, allowing the chimes to mask their words. Unfortunately, the air remained still. She’d have to stand her ground while being cagey.
“Yes, Master, as it should be. The credit will go to you – credit for everything except where the bones are from, of course. I will ensure that the paperwork is in order before I bring the bones for your inspection.”
Master Baig loomed over her now. “And if it later comes out that this paperwork is in error? What then?”
“You’ll do the honorable thing, Master, and tell the truth. You trusted a journeyman who exceeded all expectations, and you were given no reason to believe anything was out of place. The fault would reside with the person who arranged for those documents.”
He was trembling now. Yadleen couldn’t tell if it was from anger, fear, or something else entirely. Her stomach twisted. Before yesterday, Master Baig would never have had to deal with a journeyman brazenly suggesting concealing one crime by committing another.
To her surprise, he voiced a different objection. “No good master would disown his pupil to avoid shame.”
“An honorable man will do what is –”
“I said ‘good’, Child!”
Outside, the wind finally picked up. Yadleen breathed easier as the music of the chimes filled the office. “Master, do you remember the first thing you taught me about necromancy? About our duty to lost souls?”
Master Baig scowled. “I fail to see the relevance.”
“You know what you didn’t promise me? That the lost would never lose what we give them. No bhūta is promised forever as a wight. A warrior-wight can be destroyed in battle. An attendant-wight could collapse under a heavy load. Scribe-wights are buried so that their bhūtas can’t share forbidden knowledge. A life of purpose doesn’t mean a life without consequence.”
“You are not a wight.” Master Baig’s voice dropped to nearly a whisper.
Yadleen shook her head. “And you can’t only think about yourself, Master. Everyone in this ossuary depends on you. If you get caught making a wight from Unnamed bones, we all lose everything. If I get caught, it’s only on me.” When Master Baig drew breath to rebuke her, she added, “You’ve shouldered my dishonor for long enough, Master. Please. Let me do the same for you.”
Master Baig turned away and walked to his bookcase. His fingers traced along a line of nine battered books with blue-and-red spines and gold lettering: his copies of the Epics of Ātaparara. The breeze died, quieting the chimes. The silence was so thick that Yadleen held her breath.
“If you are set on doing this project yourself,” he finally said, keeping his back to her, “you’ll need a workspace off-site. You can use the storefront in Dosanjh Market.”
“Thank you,” Yadleen exhaled. She didn’t know if she addressed this to him or to the Chorus.
“And you’ll need a second. I can ask my associates if they have any apprentices who can help.”
“Actually, Master, I was wondering if I could borrow Akal. I’m sure he’d be happy to help.” Yadleen paused, half-expecting Akal to sidle into the office.
High-pitched snores came from the hallway.
“I only need him for summoning and binding the bhūta, anyway,” she finished. “I can find anyone to help with the rest. I’m sure some alchemist tourist would love to help fabricate a wight.”
Master Baig nodded. At last, he faced her. His eyes had an uncharacteristic shine to them. “Then I entrust this task to you, Yadleen. I know you won’t let me down.”
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