Page 26 of The BoneKeeper's Daughter

“Brother Nickolas!” The Father’s voice is dark and dangerous, the stone of the mountain in his words. “What excuse could you possibly have for your treatment of our Keeper?”

Nickolas is a rabid wolf, spittle flying from the corners of his mouth. “She is refusing to read for the Council.”

There is a startled intake of breath, knowing glances between the Twelve. The Father, however, is focused on me. “BoneKeeper?”

I shrug, uncaring, and blank my voice to be as cool and white as the winter air. “The Bones refuse. You have abused your power and position for too long, and they will not speak.”

Nickolas whirls around, face centimeters from my own, and grabs my arms in a bruising grip, flowers blooming on my pale skin, hissing, “You willmakethem.” His brother steps forward and lays a calming hand on Nickolas’s trembling arm.

“Peace, brother,” he whispers tightly, forcing a mirthless smilefrom his thin lips, trying to ease the situation. His eyes dart quickly toward the anxious crowd, who are studying every movement with growing concern. “Peace, for now.” Raek is much more of the politician than his younger brother. It is his only saving grace, but it is balanced by his downfall — this blind love for his family.

Nickolas shakes him off. I have not moved, do not flinch when he lurches towards me, my bored expression a stark contrast to his crazed countenance.

“Who do you think you are?” he screams, high pitched, like a scavenger spotting prey, and I lean forward, reveling slightly as he steps back.

“I do notthink, Nickolas. I know. And you have not been careful enough.”

“I am a Councilmember, and you will address me as such!” He is trembling, panting, and beside him even Raek is beginning to let the cracks show.

“Brother! Cease!” he commands through gritted teeth.

Careful, KeeperLorcan cautions from my spine, and I reach up to rest my fingers on the strand of him around my throat, drawing strength.

Nickolas is a rabid beast, ignoring the square of people, the restless tumult in the growing assembly. “You are a tool of this Council, and your sole purpose is our will and whim. You willmake themspeak to us!”

“Nickolas!” The Father’s voice is a barked command, but it is too late, and the collective intake of breath in the square drinks all the oxygen from the world. I respond to Nickolas as I would a toddler.

“I will not make them. Do you understand what I’m saying to you? I won’t evenaskthem. You have betrayed the legacy of our people, and their counsel is silent to you until your ways are mended.”

“Do not speak to me as though I’m a child, Keeper.” His words are a threat, violence shaking them, trembling on a sharp thread.

“Do notactas a child, and I won’t treat you as one, Councilman.” My tone stays flat, emotionless, and Raek is now wrapping his arms around his brother to pull him back. The Council has been struckdumb — they are not used to me with teeth, and I am suddenly, viciously glad that I found a spine this morning.

The square is crackling with barely restrained energy, an almost violent, frozen tableau on the edge of decisions which can’t be taken back. Raek is as close to frantic as I’ve ever seen him, desperately trying to maintain a stony demeanor while muzzling his brother, for the first time unsure of the next step. My words and Nickolas’s actions have thrown us into an unknown territory, destroying the careful, unspoken balance of a crumbling ecosystem. So I think in some ways it’s almost a relief to the brutish men on the stage when I turn from them toward the listening crowd and pluck control with a simple, gentle smile. Where the Council threatens and coerces, I will offer and give freely. Where they are carrion birds, I will be a mourning dove. And I will correct what has become a place of sinew and sacrifice. Tilting my head and staring over them, as though listening to the bones, I wait a beat, two beats, until the people quieten. “Though today would be a nice day to be a child…” I begin, a teasing note dancing in my voice, shifting the attention from the hovering Council, “because the Bones are calling for a Scavenger Hunt.”

THE SCAVENGER HUNT

WREN

Aripple of excitement runs through the crowd, the sands shifting, even with the gloom of the Council still hovering.A scavenger hunt!The vultures on the stage stir uncertainly, beaks open to tear joy from their people like muscle and tendons from carcass, but there is no clear path for them to wrestle back control, not with the surge of happiness sparking like embers in a prodded hearth. No way to censure me in this moment, though I’m sure I’ll pay a price for my flash of fang.A scavenger hunt!You can hear the words whispered and passed along from person to person, parent to child. I cannot remember the last time we played a game with the bones in the village, the last time the bones were not a reminder of the curse of death, but rather, a promise of redemption, a candle in the darkness. There are children alive in this village who have never played with the bones, and I am going to change that.

Walking to the nearest exposed bone, a small curve of wall far across the courtyard, I lay my hand on it, and call to the memories within. “Send runners to the other Rings to let them know. The children will have two hours from my mark!” I call, letting my voice warm, the excitement of the bones pushing through. “There are ten bones in the Second Ring wall which will feel almost hot to the touch.The first person to find them all will win…” Pausing, I try to think of something sufficiently exciting, then smile. “You’ll win stories from all ten of the bones, a reading every day this week,anda measure of my drinking water.”

Astonishment and exhilaration spreads like the Everfire. Children push past their parents to be close to my feet, looking up with eager eyes that only yesterday had been cautious and anxious. A small girl, maybe seven or eight, dares to reach out, and, light as a blood moth, tugs on my skirt, rattling the bones. Surprised, she jerks back, but I squat down in front of her to meet her eyes.

“Yes?” I ask, and she straightens, the boldness of youth making her brave.

“Keeper?” Her voice is a squeak, and I can’t help but smile.

“Yes?” I ask again, and she lightly runs a finger along my bracers.

“I like your face,” she whispers, and my smile turns to a grin, a curious stabbing piercing my heart.

“I likeyourface, too!” I reply cheerfully. She cocks her head, looking doubtful.

“You can’t see my face…” It’s half a question and half a statement, and I reach out my pale fingers to place my hand gently on her cheek, before shaking my head back and forth, making the bones in my hair echo like wooden wind chimes.

“They tell me. And the bones never lie.” Winking at her, I straighten, and motion to the children in front of me. “Are you ready? Just be patient long enough so that word can pass through the village!”

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