Page 43 of Mistress of Bones
Their strange encounter last night felt like a dream. There had been no mention of foulness, maladies, and sisters. It had felt… cozy. Strange. Like coarse fabric on the verge of turning malleable by the familiarity of use.
“You could ask the servants,” said Nereida.
Azul shook her head. “I can curb my curiosity if it means not awakening theirs.”
A snort. “Because they aren’t curious already,” Nereida murmured before eating half an egg.
“’Tis true,” Azul admitted. “But I’ll allow their imaginations some freedom.” She gulped down some of the minty drink offered with thefood and considered one of the spoons. Solid, expensive. Pretty. It could fetch some coin.
A few coins landed by her plate.
“You might need those,” Nereida said. “Don’t worry, there are more.”
With one less concern, Azul stood with resolve, retrieved the coins, and made her way outside.
The sky was turning the beautiful azure of summer, not a cloud in sight, carrying with it the promise of a heated day. But for now, the night’s chill lingered in the air. The street spread on either side of Azul, sleepy and empty, which made the man leaning against the opposite building all the more conspicuous.
She hadn’t been stopped from leaving the house; and why should she when she was earning a shadow? Azul approached the man, a smile on her face. If Enjul insisted on having her followed, she might as well find a use for her follower. Her brother’s words came to mind:Better to see the vermin than hear it scurrying.
“Excuse me, sirese,” she greeted him. “Are you here for the house or my person?”
The man tipped his hat respectfully. No ostentatious feathers caressed the wide brim, no signs of riches in the dirt clinging stubbornly to its black fabric. He looked to be around his late twenties, with dark hair gathered at the back of his neck and a jaw that hadn’t met a razor in a few days. He flashed a smile at her perusal.
“You must be a local,” she guessed, “so you might as well lead the way to the ossuary and save me the time of asking others for directions.”
It wasn’t as if she could lose the man in a city she didn’t know or as if Enjul were unaware of her plans. The thought worried her. Getting out of the house unaccompaniedhadbeen easy, shadow or not. Had Enjul changed the rules of their game without her realizing it?
With another quick show of his teeth, the man dislodged himself from the wall and led the way down the street. The buildings were taller than she was used to; the bridges threatened to cave under or above them. It didn’t take long for the streets to lose their relative quiet as they widened and narrowed at whim, the pounding of hoovesand rattling of carts echoing from wall to wall. The people of Cienpuentes were waking up and apparently enjoyed shouting at both each other and the morning light. A rider galloped past, making no allowance for what or who stood in their way. The excitement was palpable, and Azul drank it in. In the distance, she thought she heard the cluck of chickens.
“Are those chickens on the roofs?”
Her shadow did not answer, so she asked instead, “Did the emissary send you to watch over me, or was it the ambassador?”
He nodded, almost imperceptibly.
“Is Cienpuentes always this busy?”
A shrug of the shoulders.
“I hope they’re paying you well. I can’t afford a tip.”
A disgruntled harrumph.
“And your name,” Azul insisted, “may I know it?”
Unsurprised by the lack of answer, Azul smiled for him. “Then pick one and give it to me, so that when I find your employer, I may praise your work and arrange an increase in your wages.”
A low, rumbling laugh came from her companion, and while no name was forthcoming, Azul did not mind it. There was courage to be found in walking through a strange place with someone by her side, even if he was little more communicative than a shadow.
Her attention was drawn back to the river and the buildings rising to cage it, old and sharp at the same time. Two statues adorned the ends of one overhead passageway, stone horses reared on opposite sides of someone’s entrance, and all the flowers perched in their iron grids outside the windows brightened the dull color of gray stone, weathered brick, and white bird droppings.
Azul savored all these sights, all the sounds, and even all the smells. Soon she’d share them with Isadora, and then she’d be sent back to Valanje. Who knew when she’d see all these things again? Things so Sancian and yet so strange. Monteverde was a good-sized city, but it had been allowed to expand. No such thing could be said for Cienpuentes. Life had been crammed in here, dropped likedice on drunken, late-night games. Isadora would like it here, Azul decided, content with the thought that although they might have to part ways again, at least her sister would be left with plenty of things to enjoy.
Having somewhat satisfied her heart, Azul’s mind returned to the task at hand. The number of bones kept at Cienpuentes’s ossuary must be enormous. The city was huge, its dead inhabitants too many to count. The sheer size of the collection of bones defied her imagination. She prayed that those in charge had kept some semblance of order and records instead of dumping them into piles as a cook might with chicken bones after the broth was done.
The ossuary itself was a boring square structure with an elevated entrance and a narrow set of steps. Windows peppered the outside, high enough to be out of reach for a man on his tiptoes, never mind someone of Azul’s height.
All this, she observed over the increased pounding in her pulse. Isadora, kept in such a place. Cold and drab and leeched of all joy. It broke her heart to think about it.
