Bone Season 01: The Bone Season: A Novel (26 page)

I tried yet again to thread the words together, to find some kind of pattern. It wasn’t difficult to link the fragments about hunger and energy, but I couldn’t think of what
red flower
could mean.

There was something else in the envelope, too. A faded daguerreotype. The date 1842 had been scrawled on the corner. I looked at it for a long time, but I couldn’t make anything out but white smears on black. I tucked the envelope back into my tunic and nibbled on a bit of stale toke. When my eyes grew tired, I blew out the oil lamp and wrapped myself into the fetal position.

My mind was a tangle of loose ends. Warden and his injuries. Pleione bringing him Seb’s blood. David and his interest in my welfare. And Nashira, with her all-seeing eyes.

I forced myself to think only of Warden. I still tasted bile when I thought of Seb’s blood, bottled and labeled, ready for consumption. I hoped they’d taken it when he was still alive, not from his dead body. Then there was Pleione. She had brought him the blood; she must have known he was going to contract necrosis, or at least that he
might
contract it. She must have arranged to bring him human blood before it was too late. When she’d been delayed, he’d drunk my blood instead. Whatever he was doing, he was doing it in her confidence.

Warden had a secret. So did I. I was hiding my link to the underworld, one that Nashira no doubt wanted to root out. I could live with his silence if he could live with mine.

I traced my bandaged arm. Still the wound refused to heal. To me it was as ugly as the brand. If it scarred, I would never forget the shame and fear I’d felt when I did it. So much like the fear I felt the first time I encountered the spirit world. Fear of what I was. What I could be.

I must have drifted off. A sharp pain in my cheek brought me back to reality.

“Paige!”

Liss was shaking me. My eyes were raw and puffy.

“Paige, what the hell are you
doing
in here? It’s past dawn. There are bone-grubbers out looking for you.”

I looked up, groggy. “Why?”

“Because the Warden
told
them to look for you. You were supposed to be at Magdalen an hour ago.”

She was right: the sky was turning gold. Liss pulled me to my feet. “You’re lucky they didn’t find you in here. It’s forbidden.”

“How did you find me?”

“I used to come in here myself.” She grasped my shoulders, looked me dead in the eyes. “You have to beg the Warden’s forgiveness. If you beg, he might not punish you.”

I almost laughed. “Beg?”

“It’s the only way.”

“I won’t beg him for anything.”

“He’ll beat you.”

“I still won’t beg. They’ll have to take me to him.” I glanced out of the window. “Will you get in trouble if they find me in your crib?”

“Better that than they find you in here.” She grabbed my wrist. “Come on. They’ll search in here soon.”

I kicked the oil lamp and the book under a shelf, hiding the evidence. We ran down the dark stone staircase, back into the open. The air smelled crisp, like rain.

Liss held me back until the coast was clear. We slipped through the courtyard, under the damp archway, and back onto the Broad. The sun shone over the buildings. Liss forced two loose plywood panels apart, and we ducked into the Rookery. She steered me past huddles of performers. Their scavenged possessions littered the passages, as if their shacks had been overturned. One boy was propped against the wall, bleeding from the eyes. They whispered in our wake.

I ducked into the crib. Julian was waiting, a bowl of skilly balanced on his knee. He looked up when we ducked into the shack.

“Morning.”

I sat. “Glad to see me?”

“I s’pose.” He gave me a smile. “If only to remind me how urgently I need to find an alarm clock.”

“Shouldn’t
you
be inside?”

“I was just about to go, but now you’re here I’d feel like I was missing the party.”

“You two!” Liss glared at us. “They take the curfew very seriously, Jules. You’re both going to get a right slating.”

I ran my fingers through my damp hair. “How long until they find us?”

“Not long. They’ll check the rooms again soon.” She sat down. “Why don’t you just go?”

Every muscle in her body was locked. “It’s fine, Liss,” I said. “I’ll take the heat.”

“The bone-grubbers are brutal. They won’t listen. And I’m telling you now, the Warden will kill you if you—”

“I don’t care about him.” Liss rested her head in her hand. I looked back at Julian. His novice’s outfit was gone, replaced by a pink tunic. “What did you have to do?”

“Nashira asked me what I was,” he said. “I said I was a palmist, but it was obvious I couldn’t make anything of her hands. She brought an amaurotic into the room, a girl, and had her tied to a chair. I remembered Seb and asked if she’d let me use water as a scrying pool.”

“You’re a hydromancer?”

“No, but I don’t want her to know what I am. It was just the first thing that came into my head.” He rubbed his head. “She filled a golden bowl and told me to look for somebody named Antoinette Carter.”

I frowned. Antoinette Carter had been an Irish celebrity in the early forties. I recalled her as middle-aged and thin, as frail as she was enigmatic. She had a TV show,
Toni’s Truths
, which broadcast every Thursday night. She would touch people’s hands and claim to see their futures, sounding them out in her deep, measured voice. The show was canceled after the Incursion of 2046, when Scion had taken Ireland, and Carter had gone into hiding. She still ran an illegal pamphlet,
Stingy Jack
, which spoke out against Scion’s atrocities.

For reasons unknown to us, Jaxon had asked a screever called Leon—an expert in sending messages outside Scion—to make contact with her. I’d never heard the outcome. Leon was a good screever, but it took time to bypass Scion’s security systems.

“She’s a fugitive,” I said. “She used to live in Ireland.”

“Well, she’s not in Ireland now.”

“What did you see?” I didn’t like the look on his face. “What did you tell her?”

“You’re not going to be happy.” When he saw my expression, he sighed. “I said I’d seen the sundials. I remembered Carl said he’d scried them, and I thought it was believable if I repeated what he’d said.”

I looked away. Nashira was searching for Jaxon. Sooner or later she’d work out where those dials were.

“I’m sorry. I could have kicked myself.” Julian rubbed his forehead. “Why are the sundials so important?”

“I can’t tell you. I’m sorry. But whatever happens”—I glanced at the entrance to the shack—“Nashira must never hear of those sundials again. It will put some friends of mine in danger.”

Liss pulled a blanket around her shoulders. “Paige,” she said, “I think your friends have been trying to contact you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Gomeisa took me to the Castle for a while.” Her expression grew stiff. “I was in my cell, sorting through my deck for his reading, when I was drawn toward the Hanged Man. When I picked it up, it was inverted. I saw the æther. The face of a man. He reminded me of snow.”

Nick
. Soothsayers always said that about Nick when they saw him, that he was like snow. “What did he send?”

“A picture of a phone. I think he’s trying to find out where you are.”

A phone. Of course—he didn’t know where I was. The gang didn’t know I’d been taken by Scion, though they must have smelled a rat by now. Nick wanted me to call him, to tell him I was all right.

It must have taken him days to find the right path through the æther. If he tried again, with a séance, he might be able to send me a message. I couldn’t work out why he’d sent it to Liss. He knew my aura; it should have been far easier to find. Maybe it was the pills, or some kind of interference from the Rephs—but it didn’t matter. He’d tried to reach me. He wouldn’t give up.

Julian’s voice broke through my thoughts: “You really know other jumpers, Paige?” When I looked at him, he shrugged. “I thought the seventh order was the rarest.”

Jumpers
. A loaded word. An order of voyants, like soothsayers and augurs. It was the category into which I fell: those voyants that could affect or enter the æther. Jax had started the great separation of voyants in the thirties, when he was about my age. It started with
On the Merits of Unnaturalness
, which had spread like a plague through the voyant underworld. In it, he’d identified seven orders of clairvoyance: soothsayers, augurs, mediums, sensors, furies, guardians, and jumpers. The latter three, he’d written, were vastly superior to the others. It was a novel way of looking at clairvoyance, which had never previously been categorized—but the “lower” orders hadn’t reacted well to it. The resulting gang wars had lasted two bloody years. Jax’s publishers had finally withdrawn the pamphlet, but the grudges lingered.

“Yes,” I said. “Just one. He’s an oracle.”

“You must be pretty high up in the syndicate.”

“Quite high up.”

Liss ladled a bowl of skilly for me. If she had an opinion on the pamphlet, she didn’t voice it. “Jules,” she said, “could I have a few minutes with Paige?”

“Of course,” Julian said. “I’ll keep an eye out for the reds.”

He left the shack. Liss looked at the stove. “What’s wrong?” I said. She drew the blanket closer.

“Paige,” she said, “I’m scared for you.”

“Why?”

“I just have a bad feeling about the celebration—you know, the Bicentenary. I may not be an oracle, but I see things.” She took out her deck. “Will you let me do your reading? I get the urge to read certain people.”

I hesitated. I’d only ever used cards for tarocchi. “If you want.”

“Thanks.” She placed the deck between us. “Have you had your signs read before? By a soothsayer or an augur?”

“No.” I’d been asked many times if I wanted a reading, but I’d never been convinced that peeking into the future was a good idea. Nick sometimes gave me hints, but I usually didn’t let him elaborate.

“Okay. Give me your hand.”

I held out my right hand. Liss grasped it. An expression of intense concentration took over her face as her fingers dipped into the deck. She removed seven cards and placed them facedown on the floor.

“I use the ellipse spread. I read your aura, then pick out seven cards and interpret them. Not all broadsiders will give you the same interpretation of a particular card, so don’t be too pissed off if you hear something you don’t like.” She released my hand. “The first one will indicate your past. I’ll see part of your memories.”

“You
see
memories?”

Liss allowed herself a faint smile. This was something she still took pride in. “Card-readers may use objects, but we don’t really fit into any category. Even
On the Merits
acknowledged it. I see that as a good thing.”

She turned over the first card. “Five of Cups,” she said. Her eyes closed. “You lost something when you were very small. There’s a man with auburn hair. It’s his cups that are spilled.”

“My father,” I said.

“Yes. You’re standing behind him, speaking to him. He doesn’t answer. He stares at a picture.” Without opening her eyes, Liss flipped the next card. It was upside down. “This is the present,” she said. “King of Wands, inverted.” Her red lips pursed. “He controls you. Even now, you can’t escape his hold.”

“Warden?”

“I don’t think so. Still, he has power. His expectations of you are too high. You’re afraid of him.”

Jaxon.

“Next is the future.” Liss turned the card. She drew in a sharp breath. “The Devil. This card represents a force of hopelessness, restriction, fear—but you’ve given into it yourself. There’s a shadow that the Devil represents, but I can’t see its face. Whatever power this person will have over you, you
will
be able to escape it. They’ll make you think you’re tied to them forever, but you won’t be. You’ll just think you are.”

“Do you mean a partner?” My chest was cold. “A boyfriend? Or is
that
Warden?”

“It could be. I don’t know.” She forced a smile. “Don’t worry. The next card will tell you what to do when the time comes.”

I looked down at the fourth card.

“The Lovers?”

“Yes.” Her voice had dropped to a monotone. “I can’t see much. There’s tension between spirit and flesh. Too much.” Her fingers crept toward the next card. “External influences.”

I didn’t know if I could take much more. So far only one thing had been positive, and even then it was going to be painful. But I certainly hadn’t expected the Lovers.

“Death, inverted. Death is a normal card for voyants. Usually it appears in the past or present positions. But here, inverted—I’m not sure.” Her eyes flickered beneath their lids. “This far ahead, my sight gets hazy. Things are vague. I know the world will change around you, and you’ll do everything in your power to resist it. Death itself will work in different ways. By delaying the change, you’ll prolong your own suffering.