Bone Crier's Moon (Bone Grace, #1)(54)
Ailesse has been underground for fifteen days. I can’t wait any longer for the silver owl to come back and give me a sign that I made the right choice of grace bone. So far I’ve pursued a wild boar, a feral horse, and even a rare black wolf, but I hesitated when I had an opportunity to seize them. Would that animal give me enough ability to rescue Ailesse? Why won’t the silver owl tell me? I haven’t seen her since she showed me the vision of my friend.
The smell of salt and brine fills my lungs as I run faster, scanning the plains that sprawl out before me. Each blade of swaying wild grass comes into clear focus. I’m still amazed by my nighthawk grace to see well in the dark. It looks as bright outside as it does during a full moon. But this is a new moon. Ferrying night. None of the Leurress were able to hunt a golden jackal in time, so as a last resort, Odiva carved a new flute from the bone of a ritual stag, giving it all the same markings as the original flute. Whether or not it has the same power remains to be seen. My famille has been on edge about it for days.
When I race another half mile, my path inclines on a rolling hill. I near the top, and a group of women holding staffs approaches from the other side. Ferriers, led by Odiva. My brows lift.
They’ve left Chateau Creux already. Is it that close to midnight? I tense to run the other way—I shouldn’t be out tonight—but it’s too late. They’ve already seen me.
We crown the hill at the same moment. I stop and come face-to-face with my matrone. She’s wearing her five grace bones in their epaulettes, rows of necklaces, and her striking crown, but she’s not wearing her customary sapphire-blue dress beneath. Tonight, she’s clothed in a white dress, like the other Ferriers, though the color looks unearthly on Odiva, not holy.
“Sabine.” She looks me up and down, and thin lines crease across her forehead. “What are you doing here? You’re needed at home.” On ferrying night, I’m supposed to remain with the younger girls and those too old to ferry, while the majority of the Leurress attend to their duty on the soul bridge.
“I’m on my way there, Matrone.” I don’t know why I’m lying; Odiva wants me to earn my third grace bone as much as I do. She might approve of why I’m out here. “I lost track of the time.”
One disadvantage of night vision is that I can’t judge the light of the sky very well to determine the hour, even though I’ve had this grace for two weeks. I hope I’ll acclimate.
“Hurry along. Your new grace bone should help with your speed.”
“Yes, Matrone.”
She passes by me, and the other Ferriers trail behind her. I know without counting there are thirty-four of them, including Odiva. As they walk, they assert a strong elegance, their staffs in hand and posture exact. Each of them maintains a rigorous training schedule to prepare for monthly ferrying nights. They don’t look prepared now. Their lips move quietly, and their pleading eyes glance to the Night Heavens—and even below to the Underworld. They’re offering desperate prayers, more anxious than ever about the new bone flute.
When Odiva reaches the bottom of the hill, she turns to consider me again. “On second thought, Sabine, I would like you to come with us.”
“Come ferrying?” My voice pitches higher.
“No, to observe ferrying.”
My breath bottles in my chest. I can’t summon a response. Novices aren’t allowed to come anywhere close to the soul bridge. It’s too dangerous to be near the Chained.
Odiva beckons me with a subtle wave of her hand. I reluctantly go to her, my gaze dropping from her black eyes to the lump of her hidden necklace beneath her dress: the bird skull with a ruby in its beak. I bite the inside of my lip. What else is the matrone hiding from me—and all our famille? “You will be able to see the dead now, thanks to this.” She lifts the nighthawk leg bone I wear on Ailesse’s shoulder necklace.
“Yes, but . . . I don’t have my third grace bone. What about my rite of passage?” A sick flush of nausea cramps my stomach. “I’m not ready.”
I don’t dare move. Odiva still hasn’t let go of my nighthawk leg. She traces its claw with her pointed fingernail, and my pulse throbs in my throat. “Some members of our famille have confided in me their concerns about you,” she says, shaking her head with false sorrow. “They say you are unsure if you want to become a Ferrier at all.”
“I’m only sixteen.” My voice cracks. “I still have time to decide.”
“No, Sabine. I am afraid time is the last thing you have.” She releases my necklace and tips up my chin. Her touch is gentle, but her fingers feel like ice. “Time is at an end for all of us.” My brow wrinkles. What does she mean? Her eyes glitter with anticipation, but it’s feverish and forced.
“Come, we mustn’t delay.” She walks on, confident I’ll follow. “You will watch from a safe distance on the shore. Perhaps if you witness ferrying for yourself, you will understand the importance of your duty.”
I consider sneaking away and facing punishment later, but then I think of Ailesse. This night would have been her first time on the soul bridge. Every long hunt she endured, every grace she won, she did to achieve her dream of becoming a masterful Ferrier.
I draw a sustaining breath, fist my clammy hands, and join the sisters of my famille.
I’ll go to honor Ailesse.