Page 61 of Mistress of Bones
A man turned from a group and smiled widely. He was older than Isile and Sergado by several years, maturity starting to line his eyes and touch his temples.
“Isile,” he returned in an eager voice. “I haven’t seen you in a while. And who might this be?”
Isile made the introductions, and Azul found her hand gripped between Norel’s big ones.
“Ah, the famous sister! You are all De Gracia has been talking about for the last fortnight. I’ve been dying out of curiosity to finally meet you.”
Azul wasn’t sure what to think. “I’m sorry, you must be somewhat disappointed, then.”
“Nonsense. Look at you, so pretty, so prim, worthy of every expectation!”
“I… uh… thank you, sirese.”
“You’re scaring her,” Isile admonished. “Norel here has made it his life’s work to study humanity at its most basic level.”
Azul frowned at the turn of phrase. “You study morality?”
Norel chuckled. “Not quite, child, although I do believe there is a strong connection between what we do with our bodies and how we evolve inside.”
Azul’s expression cleared. “Oh, you study the body. Like a doctor?”
“A doctor who isn’t interested in healing,” he agreed. “I simply study the connections. I leave the healing to others.” He looked at Isile. “You are usually not so eager to introduce me to newcomers. What brought this change?”
“She was curious about the inspiration for that painting I did for De Gracia. The one of the man’s back.”
“Ah, you’re blaming me again for turning you into bloody business.”
Isile tut-tutted, amused. “You know you are.”
Norel’s heavy hand landed on Isile’s shoulder, squeezing tightly. Azul winced in sympathy.
“You might be right, but I refuse to accept full responsibility,” Norel answered jovially. Focusing again on Azul, he said, “It was my idea, indeed, to bring an artist with me to the mortuary.”
“The mortuary?” Azul asked, suddenly keen.
“Yes! It’s imperative to keep a good record of the different shapes of muscle and bone. What we are underneath our skin”—he drew a circle over his chest with his finger—“is our foundation. Knowing how it forms, how it grows, will teach us how we affect it and how, in turn, it affects us.”
This gave Azul pause. “You believe we have a choice on how our bodies work? You think we can redo our foundations?”
“Of course. Bone is hard, but it grows as we do. It re-forms after it breaks, doesn’t it? Bones have no thoughts of their own; they must follow our mind. By changing how we think, may we not change how our bodies respond?”
Azul was speechless. He sounded so sure, and what did she know about bones? Only the instinct calling her to bring their owners back to life. By following her instinct, was she… tainting these animals? Isadora? Making them as she wished them to be instead of how they ought to be? But there had been no change in Isadora’s personality, nothing odd to indicate she wasn’t fully herself. Had there?
“Are you a member of the College, then?” she asked, because Norel was all hope as he waited to see how she took his theories, and Isile looked worried she might run screaming, and she wanted to ignore these new doubts suddenly crowding her mind and her heart.
“Gods, no,” Norel said. “I despise their methods. Keeping all their findings for themselves. No. This is why I take Isile with me. We need an artist to keep good records, not badly done sketches by people unused to drawing.”
“Why the mortuary, though?” Azul asked. “Couldn’t you visit the ossuary and record the bones there?”
“Ah,” Isile said, “now we’re done for.”
“The ossuary?” Norel scoffed. “The ossuary is useless.”
“But wouldn’t such a collection of bones be great for your studies?”
“The truth of humanity resides in what’s left behind right at death, Sirese Del Arroyo. What use do I have of old decomposing bones?”
“Decomposing?” she asked, baffled. “Bones don’t decompose.”
