Chapter 35: The Bones SpeakThe morning light in Rurokitarin was a grey, oily luminescence that filtered through the grime of the Iron Wing’s windows, turning the rich velvet of the common room into a dull, bruised purple.

  Miz’ri was slumped on the loveseat, her head tilted back at an awkward angle. Her straight white hair was a chaotic nest, and her skin, usually the deep, lustrous bck of polished obsidian, looked ashy with exhaustion. She wasn't truly asleep, the "noise" in her head was still a low-frequency hum that kept her nerves on a hair-trigger, but she was drifting in that heavy, shallow stupor that follows a successful war of attrition against oneself. Her hand was still cmped firmly around the braided red silk of the colr at her neck.

  The heavy front door of the inn creaked open.

  Miz’ri didn't snap awake; she sharpened. Her eyes flickered open—bloodshot and stinging—as she watched the figure stumble into the lobby.

  It was Talisa. The girl looked like she had been pulled through a thresher. Her auburn curls were frizzy and unkempt, and her eyes were so swollen from crying that they were little more than blue slits in a pale, puffy face. She didn't look like the bright, sun-blessed girl who had kissed Miz’ri in the Iron Garden; she looked like a ghost that hadn't realized it was dead yet. Talisa scanned the room with a hollow, unfocused gaze until her eyes nded on the loveseat. She didn't say a word. She moved toward Miz’ri with a heavy, leaden gait, her knees buckling as she reached the edge of the sofa. She simply colpsed onto the floor, her weight hitting the rug with a soft thud, and leaned her head against Miz’ri’s knee.

  Miz’ri let out a long, ragged breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Her fingers instinctively left the silk colr and moved to Talisa’s hair, stroking the tangled curls. "You're back," Miz’ri rasped, her voice sounding like it had been dragged over gravel.

  "You’re here." Talisa whispered into the fabric of Miz’ri’s trousers. A fresh wave of shivers ran through the girl's body. "Miz... everything is wrong. So wrong. So much freaking worse than I could ever imagine."

  Miz’ri leaned forward, hooking her arm under Talisa’s shoulders to hoist her up. "Tell me all about it, but in private" Miz’ri commanded softly. "I’m not one for voyeurs, especially that Altan bitch." Miz’ri gnced at the stairs, iIt was blissfully quiet upstairs; for now. With a grunt of effort, Miz’ri pulled Talisa to her feet. The girl was nearly dead weight, clinging to Miz’ri as they navigated the stairs.

  Once they reached their room, Miz’ri kicked the door shut and bolted it. The click of the lock seemed to be the only thing holding Talisa together. As soon as the bolt threw, the girl slumped against the doorframe, her chest heaving as she began to sob again, not the loud, frantic wailing of the garden, but a quiet, rhythmic sound of utter defeat. “Miz, what in the saints are we going to do…”

  "You’re going to sit," Miz’ri said, guiding her to the edge of the bed. "And open your treat before you tell me all about it." Miz’ri reached into her pocket and pulled out the crumpled grease-stained bag. She set it on the nightstand and pulled out the three remaining doughnuts—cold, slightly squashed, and covered in a yer of soot-speckled sugar.

  “You got something for me?”Talisa looked at them like they were the most precious relics in Julisia. “Not stolen, right?”

  “Bought with what little marks I had on me.” Miz offered a bright, proud smile.

  “Oh my gosh, thank you Mizzie!” Talisa squealed in a moment of joy, surging forward to pnt a kiss on Miz’ri’s cheek before she grabbed one ring with shaking hands. Her eyes nearly rolled back into her head as she bit into it, her teeth sinking through the cold dough. She ate with a desperate, unrefined hunger, sugar coating her lips and chin. As she finished, and for but a moment, she seemed to be okay before the weight of the moment hit her again.

  "Better?" Miz’ri asked, sitting on the floor at Talisa’s feet, resting her chin on the girl's knee just as Talisa had done downstairs. Talisa nodded heartily. "Tell me what’s going on.”

  Talisa swallowed a mouthful of dough, her throat working hard. "Gosh, where to start. Well, Mom didn't come here to find Herkel, Miz. It’s not like we were taking forever and she got worried. I mean, she is worried. But not about that, she came running for me."

  She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her blue eyes wide and terrifyingly vacant. "My Mother stole something from the ministry…a tool. It’s a cipher made from the bone of Julisian Saint with some sort of magic gss. It... it reads the Mark of Finality. It tells you when your debt to the Father is due." Talisa’s voice broke. "She read her own mark, Miz. She's going to die in a month. Exactly thirty days..

  Miz’ri stiffened. Thirty days. A death sentence.

  "And then," Talisa whispered, a single tear carving a path through the sugar on her cheek, "when she told Dad he got upset that she went against the church, like knowing was such a big sin. She wasn’t able to reach my Brothers or their wives and my nieces and nephews. Dad forbid her from leaving the house. He said the Maglebys have had ‘beled troublemakers for generations’, which is news to me, and we shouldn’t make any more waves. How she snuck out I have no idea.”

  “Your family has a reputation, for what?” Miz’ri asked

  “Heresey, it seems….” said with a low whisper. “He’s so scared of something in our past being uncovered that he couldn’t unroot himself to run. Mom said it was their biggest argument in decades. I’ve seen Dad angry once…it’s terrifying. When he’s right, that it’s, he’s right. There is no arguing with a stone.”

  “Well how did she get out?” Miz'ri asked, imaging the fierce older woman must be equally as clever as her daughter.

  “My Father is a man of edicts, not actions. A pastor, bookworm, novice of a thousand hobbies, master of none. He barks very loud, but he has no fangs.” Talisa read her parent down with a heavy sigh of her chest. “I can’t be mad at him…he’s my daddy…he taught me to be still, patient and kind. He taught me to know every bird in our yard by call alone…to watch the petals in the wind for the subtle details. He taught me to create joy in the world with honey suckles by the creek…gosh, he must be so scared. I don’t know what he’s thinking.”

  Miz’ri never knew her father. He was some high breeding quality male within her mother’s harem. She never truly bothered to ask. These thoughts that Talisa proffered felt alien to her. This healthy, positive, parental connection. She did her best to understand in her own way, saying “Your Mother is going against her very world just to bring this information to you. The fangs are supposedly bearing down upon her so soon.”

  Talisa was staring at the floor, eyes wide, hands gripping the hem of her tunic as she was mouthing some words, trying to conjure up the will to fill them with breath. “She didn’t come to tell me about hers…she came to check mine.” the human girl gulped, gripping hard now. “It’s the same day, the same hour, the same minute, the same second. The Ministry, they aren't throwing a welcome back party when I get home, Miz. They’ve already decided it’s a farewell; that we’re finished."

  Miz’ri sat back on her heels, processing the information. "What do they suspect you all have done?," Miz’ri said slowly, her mind working through the tactical implications. "Not that fascists or zealots need a true reason to be horrible to people."

  Talisa wiped her nose with her sleeve, her expression shifting from grief to a strange, distant awe. "Great-Grandmama Miriam. She’s... she’s the reason Pappy is here."

  "I gathered that," Miz’ri said. "But how? Necromancy is common in Julisia. Raising the dead to work the fields isn't a crime; it's an industry. What makes Herkel different?"

  "Because he came back," Talisa whispered. "Way before he died."

  Talisa leaned back against the bedframe, pulling her knees to her chest. "The story goes that Miriam met Herkel on her own pilgrimage, eighty years ago. He wasn't Julisian, some washed-up Valientan hedge wizard with a drug problem and a good heart. He cleaned himself up for her. They traveled together, fell in love... and then he died. Just some random bandit attack near the border." Talisa looked at the door, as if expecting her mother to burst in and silence her. "Miriam didn't just mourn him, Miz. Her mind... it broke. She couldn't accept a world without him. So she broke the ws of life and death instead."

  Miz’ri’s eyes narrowed. "A true resurrection? I thought you all forbid that sort of thing."

  "Resurrection of the spirit is a dark, forbidden thing…" Talisa said. "I’ve been told my whole life to bring back a soul is to invite a demon to take that person’s pce. Well….Granny was so desperate she kept digging for a forbidden rite found in a banned text with the power she needed. She anchored his soul to his bones before it could fully depart. She pulled him back from the Void herself…"

  Talisa held up her left hand, wiggling her pinkie finger. "There was a cost. A physical price for the tether. Miriam and Herkel... in all the portraits, in all the memories... they are both missing their left pinkie fingers. Sacrificed to bind the soul to the body."

  Miz’ri looked at her own hands, intact and scarred. "Blood magic. Soul binding. That is... impressive. And dangerous."

  "It's the Magleby Heresy, she’s proof that everything they’ve been saying is wrong. And Herkel is the evidence." Talisa confirmed. "The Ministry has suspected it for generations. They know Herkel is... different. That he has too much personality for a simple construct. But they could never prove it. Until now."

  She looked at Miz’ri, her eyes wide with fear. "Mom thinks they found a way to recim the debt. That the syncing of our death dates isn't a coincidence. They're going to wipe out our entire line in one fell swoop of the scythe." She let out a heavy sigh and let the air hang for a moment. “We need to find that diary," Talisa added, her voice dropping to a hush, "Miriam wrote it all down. The ritual. The steps. She kept a diary. It went missing years ago, after she died. But Mom... she thinks she knows where it is."

  Miz’ri’s ears twitched. "Where?"

  "She didn't say," Talisa admitted. "But she said she needs to find it before they do.”

  The revetion of the ritual hung in the air, a heavy, metallic scent that seemed to overpower the smell of the coal smoke outside. Miz’ri looked at Talisa, seeing the steel beneath the softness. The girl wasn't just a pilgrim; she was the heir to a legacy of breaking the rules for love.

  "We’ll find the diary," Miz’ri said, her voice firm. "And keep your family safe."

  Talisa nodded, wiping her face with her sleeve again. "We will. But first... we have to go talk to Mom."

  Miz’ri frowned. "The Matriarch summons us?"

  "Mom... she wants to talk to us," Talisa said, her voice dropping to a nervous whisper. "You know. Us. Both of us. Together." Miz’ri stiffened. The memory of Marissa’s cool, dissecting gaze in the garden was still fresh. "She wants to interrogate me again? About what?"

  “I have no idea. When I tried to bring you up... when I tried to expin about us... she just waved it away," Talisa admitted, looking confused. "She said 'that is a conversation for a time of peace when both of you are here'. She just said she needs to see if we’re ‘carrying the burden’ equally. Weirdly, she didn't even ask about why I’m not wearing my ring; Mom used to nip at me for forgetting it all the time.”

  “Carried the burden," Miz’ri repeated. "That sounds ominous."

  "Everything about my mother is ominous, a vibe she cultivates." Talisa sighed. She stood up, smoothing her tunic. "Her mystique is what keeps people from telling her ‘no’."

  Miz’ri stood, checking her belt instinctually, though she had no sword. She adjusted the red colr at her neck, her grounding point. "Fine. Let's go meet the Matriarch."

  “Her inn is only a walk away.” Talisa said with a little tug at her lover’s arm. They left the room and descended the stairs. The inn was waking up, the common room filling with the noise of breakfast and business. Danni was already at the counter, leaning over to show her cleavage and offering a snide little wave to the couple. Talisa waved politely; Miz’ri flipped the altan elf off.

  “So how was your night?” Talisa asked as they got out into the quiet Rurokitarin morning. As soon as they were out of the eyeline of everyone else, she ced her fingers with Miz’ri’s. “A nice morning walk after my night is nice…”

  Miz’ri looked over at the blushing girl who was looking up at the dawn peeking through the clouds. She still had to squint, she still couldn’t fully open her eyes in the sunlight. It took her eyes a long time to find themselves in this new brightness, even in the dim haze of this mountainous city. But she saw the shadow of Talisa, the warm, inviting outline looking over to her, basking in the outline of a sun that didn’t seem so harsh. A warm glow that invited her truth.

  “It was…uh, long.” Miz’ri said with a shallow sigh. “I couldn’t be around Danni so I went for my little errand to get something sweet for you, which seemed like the best decision I could make at the time. ” Talisa seemed to beam at this little anecdote. “Being in the city alone wasn’t exactly easy either…I actually broke down crying by myself...”

  “Oh, Miz’ri.” Talisa pulled her tall girlfriend in for a long, slow hug. “I know you hate tears, that must have been tough. But I’m proud of you.”

  Miz’ri could feel the tears on the edge of her eyes forming again, but she held firm as she would rather not approach a matriarch with a misty face. “ I was being good, I was being sober but vith it hurt so much.” She tightened her grip on Talisa and leaned into her auburn-brown ringlets, taking in her scent of vender and woman. Miz let out an exhale and then pulled back to look at Talisa.

  “A woman approached me when I was crying. She offered to help. She said she understood what I was going through, which is insane to think anyone else has trouble with…with…”

  “The Silence?” Talisa finished Miz’ri’s sentence, but the dark elf seemed to wince from this usage.

  “Let’s not act like it’s a person in the room ready to stab me at any moment.” Miz said with one eye still in a wincing lock. “Esther told me by giving it a name, I give it power over me.”

  Talisa’s worried expression began to melt to a gentle, nodding smile. “Okay, I think this Esther person sounds like they know what they’re talking about.”

  “She does, and she said there are others. ” Miz’ri gave Talisa’s hand one more little squeeze and began walking slowly toward their destination again. “Esther said she wants to meet me tonight at some book store on the east side.”

  “Do you mind if I walk you there?” Talisa asked, smiling in the warm sunlight again.

  “Of course not, but I’m not really sure what to expect. But it seems like a chance…a chance to actually not feel this way anymore.” Miz said with the little corners of her mouth hooking up. “I don’t know…I don’t want to say it’s ‘hope’ or a ‘solution’....it’s a chance I’m going to take.”

  “It’s one we’ll take together.” Talisa said as she reached up to pnt a kiss on her girlfriend’s cheek. They walked for but a moment longer before arriving at an inn with a rge, open courtyard.

  Marissa Magleby sat on a stone bench under a heavy canvas awning, shielded from the morning drizzle. She was perfectly still, her hands folded in her p, her posture rigid. Behind her, Herkel stood like a silent sentinel, his skeletal form wrapped in his disguise, but his head was bowed, as if in prayer.

  As Miz’ri and Talisa approached, Marissa looked up from the little prayer she was muttering to the bones of her Father. “Ah, good morning you two. ”Her eyes were dry, clear, and terrifyingly focused. She didn't look at Talisa. She looked directly at Miz’ri. "Come, Sit," Marissa commanded, gesturing to the bench opposite her.

  Miz’ri sat. She didn't bow this time. She sat with the wariness of a soldier entering a parley. Talisa sat beside her, their knees touching a small, defiant act of solidarity. Marissa looked at them, the way they leaned toward each other. And for a second, the mask slipped. Her lips trembled.

  "Miz’ri, right?" Marissa said to Miz’ri. "Thank you for taking care of my daughter."

  "I have done my best," Miz’ri answered honestly. “Which I’m thankful she appreciates. And I greatly appreciate her ilhar, excuse me, Marissa. Mrs. Magleby.”

  "Good, I’m gd you know the appreciation of a good woman." Marissa said. "Then you’ll understand exactly what I am about to say." She took a breath, her hands clenching in her p. Mrs. Magleby turned her gaze to Talisa, her expression softening into something heartbreaking. "Talisa, do you remember your Auntie Laura?"