“Tell that toit.”
She stared back at the impossibility. There was no doubt in her mind that it was one of Eklor’s creations. The skull, the lizard skin, plus the vestiges of clothes and the sword, built on a humanoid frame made of animal bones... his signature style. He’d mixed dead matter with the inanimate in an unmistakable way.
But none of Eklor’s creations should have lasted this long. A well-made construct could outlast its creator’s death, as demonstrated by the cable cars that had been running for decades throughout Vos. Its life span, if one could call it that, was determined by the skill of the bone maker and the quality of the bone used. But no construct could last forever. Not without new bones to fuel it.
And someone to activate those bones.
Zera tugged on her arm. “Shit. There are more of them.”
“Down,” Kreya ordered, and then both flattened on their stomachs in the grasses as six of the unnatural soldiers moved in a V-formation not far away. They looked, Kreya thought, like a patrol. Their skull heads swiveled, as if sniffing the air, and they moved soundlessly as a unit.
Leftovers, gone feral?
Except... she knew what happened to a bone maker’s creations if left unattended and unmaintained. Look at her cleaning construct. It would polish the same stone until eventually it quieted and stopped as it drained the last of the living essence captured in its bones. The key was that eventually itwouldstop.
But these hadn’t slowed. And they certainly hadn’t stopped.
They’re new,she thought. She was sure of it.
Almost sure of it.
Or at least she thought it was a very real possibility. And if they were new constructs, or even freshly maintained constructs...
“Ready the talismans,” Kreya said. “We need to get closer.”
The truth was that Zera had missed the adventure.
She’d never have admitted that where Guine or anyone else could hear her. After all, she was at the pinnacle of success—how could she miss crawling through bug-infested grasses while inhuman soldiers hunted them? But there was something about how it made your heart race, skin tingle, and breath speed.I feel alive,she thought.
And she wanted to keep that whole “alive” feeling. Preferably elsewhere, while soaking in a hot spring and reveling in how very brave she’d been on the plains of the forbidden zone.
But now Kreya wanted to get closer?
“Closer? To what?”
“To the tower.” Kreya began creeping through the grasses, in the direction of the ruins.
“I think you mean the opposite.Farther.You definitely meanfartherfrom the tower.”
“We need to see who created them,” Kreya whispered. “We need to know . . .” Her voice trailed off, and Zera didn’t need her to finish to guess what she didn’t want to say, because saying it would invite both absurdity and horror.
“Wedoknow. He’s dead, Kreya. Very, very dead, the no-doubt-about-it and no-way-anyone-could-have-survived-thatkind of dead. You know it’s true. You witnessed it.” Zera could not believe they were having this absurd conversation. She knew Kreya had been on her own for a while and that could unhinge anyone, but this was a new level of paranoia.
Still, Kreya was continuing to creep toward the tower.
Scurrying forward, she caught up with her. “Say it with me: ‘He died.’”
“I know he died,” Kreya said.
“Even his apprentice was executed. Publicly, remember? Oh, what was his name? Anyway, there was a festival in Cerre to celebrate his execution. It was a grotesque display of the basest of human instincts, reveling in revenge.” The war had ended and the dying should have been over, but the public had been thirsty for revenge. They called it justice, but a different label didn’t change what they meant. So Eklor’s apprentice, a mere boy misled by the master manipulator, had had his blood spilled on the steps of the Bone Workers Guild headquarters. The red had stained the marble. Zera had excused herself to vomit behind one of Grand Master Lorn’s favorite statues.
Kreya had left Cerre for good.
“I remember. Yet here are Eklor’s constructs.”
“The dead are dead.” Zera stopped. Then she considered what they were carrying in their packs, and why. “I see your point. Let’s check the tower.”
Using the stealth talisman, they bypassed the patrol. It wasa blessing that the grass was so long, though Zera tried not to think about how many ticks must have latched onto her coat by now. She’d need a thorough cleansing when she was back in Cerre.
