The Heart Forger (The Bone Witch #2)(101)

“Your vocabulary needs work, Your Majesty,” Shadi cautioned helpfully as the trembling soldiers obeyed. “You told the men you were going to stab them with your hamster.”

“Then do the translating for me, Shadi. Tell them that while the emperor is incapacitated, I’m assuming command, as is my responsibility. Just like the Empress Kalka and the Empress Meili before me, I claim rulership of Daanoris in my husband’s stead while he recuperates. Order the army’s retreat, Tansoong. This war shall not be won by drawing human blood.”

I was already moving toward the door, brushing past the frightened guards, who made no move to confront me. The dungeons, Fox, I whispered, frantic. The dungeons!

The jade stones on Baoyi’s mantelpiece. And Khalad absently building a tower of pebbles in the Kingshead Inn—and then again at the forger’s hut in Kion.

Got the habit from Master, he had said.

The prison was just as dark and as dank as I remembered, for all appearances empty. I stopped at the farthest cell and stared into it. I could see nothing within.

I looked down at the broken debris that littered the dungeon floor. The pile of stones I had seen at my last visit was still there.

Kalen and Khalad had caught up to us. “What’s happening?” the Deathseeker asked.

“The forger is here.”

“I don’t see anyone.”

“I know.” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, wove Heartsrune.

There were three people in the room. But when I focused on the number of heartsglass that I could detect from sense alone, I could feel four.

This was Khalad’s first time in the dungeons; his face was pale.

“He’s here,” he croaked. “Master’s here.”

To pierce through the veil of the Illusion rune, it is important to believe that what is in front of you is not what you truly see…

“What is in front of me,” I echoed, “is not what I truly see.”

It was easy enough to puncture Usij’s mirages when you’re certain what you are looking for. But all I had to go by here was a hunch and a pile of stones at my feet.

But there was someone in this cell, someone that a rune convinced my mind was empty. There was someone here because I could hear his heartsglass pulse and rise and fall, as real as my own. There was someone here. There was someone here!

I drew the Piercing rune, unshakable in my newfound belief, and put everything I had into that small cell. It was uphill work and slower than I imagined, like weaving thick taffy. I also felt resistance—not from another’s thoughts but from the nature of the spell itself—and forced the image of the forger that I remembered through it.

There was a sound, at least to my mind, of glass breaking.

And from what had once been empty air, the old Heartforger lay, huddled by the straw bed, unconscious.





The Deathseeker returned with the struggling emperor and deposited him in the middle of the room. The Dark asha stepped toward him, her fingers busy.

“The time for deceit is over, Your Majesty,” the asha told him. “You have been hiding under this form for many months, and the people suffered under your tyranny. You have killed the worthy Tansoong and recruited many of your own into positions of power in the palace. You have wallowed in luxury and allowed your people to live in filth. You survived our last battle but at a cost. Even now, my wards wrap around you, and you are no longer strong enough to break free. I let you keep your illusion only because every Daanorian soldier in this city would want your head if they knew, and the last thing I wanted was a mutiny before the forger was done. But now you have outlived your usefulness.”

“Lady Tea,” I implored her, hoping to find some mercy left inside her, “Emperor Shifang’s death will do more harm to your cause.”

“But Emperor Shifang is no longer with us, Bard. I knew it when I scried my way into Daanoris from the Sea of Skulls and confirmed it when I saw the hanjian, Baoyi, directing the soldiers against us.” Magic burned. The emperor threw his head back and screamed. He thrashed desperately on the floor, twitching, as his features twisted and writhed—and melted, like wax dripping over some great bonfire. I watched, horror stricken, as a new face emerged from that ruined expression, a mask peeled away to reveal the face of an old bald man with a long beard, gasping in pain on the floor.

“Meet the scourge of Daanoris,” the bone witch said. “The Faceless, Usij.”





26


Neither the Daanorian nor the Odalian army was a match for the rampaging savul. It tore through their front flanks like they were made of paper. Inessa called out orders to retreat as Shadi and Kalen stood guard over the unconscious emperor. I scanned the rest of the guards for any signs of Compulsion and found none, but as I directed my thoughts farther out, delving into the city, I felt the wards outside diminishing my reach. If Usij had been planning for such a contingency, he was alarmingly good at it. The barriers were still not enough to deprive me completely of my magic but enough to keep me from intervening in the battle with my full strength as long as I remained in Santiang.

Even more telling, the savul made no move to attack the marching Odalian army. The implications were clear—and the idea that the Duke of Holsrath or someone else was possibly in league with Usij made me sick.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Baoyi?” I hissed at Zoya.