The hangman comes to Tyche: Part 5
In which the bones are dug up
If you’re just joining us, jump back to part 1.
Taggard was back in his mother’s house. This time, he hid in the shadows of the garden, seething as Sharp and his team of Seekers rifled through the place. He dug his hand into his jacket pocket and worried at his mother’s bauble. His cheeks burned with anger as the figures inside tossed her things on the floor.
“The archaeologist’s journal isn’t here,” one of them said.
“I don’t care about the journal,” Sharp hissed.
“But—” The Seeker stopped short.
“That book is only useful if it leads to the key.”
“There are keys in this drawer,” said someone Taggard couldn’t see, though he could tell they stood near his mother’s desk.
Sharp's sigh was loud enough for Taggard to hear.
“Not. That. Kind. Of. Key.” Sharp enunciated every word, and each was louder than the last. Then the night fell silent for a heartbeat. “It’s small, the size of a kora ball. Pearlescent.” The volume of Sharp’s voice tapered off. “With a universe of stars inside.”
Taggard inhaled sharply as his fingers wrapped around his mother’s stone. A weight like a rock dropped into his stomach.
He jerked, barely holding back a shout, as a shape shifted to his left. His foot knocked one of the garden pots, sending it to wobbling. He froze for a second before shuffling further into the shadows behind one of the palms.
Sharp approached the door that led into the garden and stared at the night, his eyes squinting. He took a step into the patio then jumped back as a shape fled past before skidding to a stop and jumping up onto the pond’s retaining wall.
The kitten. It arched its back and hissed at Sharp before taking off again, knocking a pot in its haste.
“Bleeding vermin.” Sharp glared in the direction the cat scurried off in before scanning the garden once more. He turned to his Seekers. “Anything?”
A woman lifted a pair of goggles onto her forehead. “Nothing.” She scanned the room. “The only tracks lead to the desk and that chest. Otherwise, nothing’s been disturbed recently.”
“And there’s nothing at the Arkmeni woman’s place?”
“Nothing.”
“Where are you hiding?” Sharp's voice was quiet, almost as if he meant the words for the plants in the patio. “You said she’d been to the dig? Anywhere else?” There was a pause, a murmur Taggard couldn’t hear. “Let’s search there then.”
The Seekers left, one by one, moving from living room to entryway to street, without passing through the garden. Sharp followed, accompanied by his two guards. They stopped in the entry.
“You,” Sharp said, indicating one of the guards. Watch the entrance. Make sure no one enters.”
Sharp left, taking the other guard with him. Taggard shifted from behind the palm and watched the remaining one take a position outside the front door, facing the street. He waited for a minute, checking that the guard wasn’t coming back inside, then made his way to the far end of the garden.
He knelt beside the stone box that sat there and pulled the bauble out of his pocket. He stared at it until he started to feel dizzy, then blinked and put it away.
Hands free, he ran his fingers over the name on the plate. It had been years since his sister's death, years since Soriah's bones had been laid to rest in the box after the mourning eagles had picked them cleaned. Still, he didn’t relish what he had to do next, even with what Nita had told him.
Exhaling, he lifted the heavy stone lid, with its carving of winged Nyx with her two horses pulling her starry chariot. Neither he nor Soriah were religious but their mother had been. He carefully lowered the lid, wincing when it scraped on the flagstones as he placed it down. He glanced towards the door, but the guard remained fixated on the empty street.
“Forgive me, Soriah,” he murmured as he pulled up his jacket sleeve and reached into the deep box. His hand brushed bone, and he closed his eyes as he gently shifted them to the side. Finally, his fingers landed on a bundle wrapped in oilcloth. As slowly as he could, looking over his shoulder every few seconds, he withdrew it.
He unfolded the cloth — to check that he had pulled the right bundle from the bone box, he told himself. It was indeed a book made of real paper, just as Nita described. He ran his thumb over the letters on the cover. Letters he couldn’t read.
A cough sounded from the entry way, and Taggard froze. He shifted in his crouch, but the guarded still stood at their post.
Hastily, he re-wrapped the book. Putting it aside, he lifted the heavy lid and placed it back on the box as quietly as he could. However, his pounding heart made it difficult to hear anything else. He whispered a few phrases from the only funereal hymn he could remember.
Just as he grabbed the book again and moved to stand up, a shadow to his left coalesced into a kitten. The animal rubbed its chin against his leg, almost causing him to fall over.
“Bleeding Hades, Grim.” His whisper was low and harsh, though he decided he liked his niece’s name for the animal. “Don’t sneak up like that.” Something sticking out of the cat’s mouth glistened in the dim light. Taggard plucked it to take a closer look. A sand cricket’s leg. “Eww.” Every Tychean knew the bitter creatures were starvation rations.
“Come on, let’s get out of here. We need to get this book away from Sharp.” With one last look at the guard, he scooped up the cat and headed to the cellar — every cellar in Ate always held another exit to a different street, and his mother’s house kept to plan.
Read part 6 now. Feel free to share if you know someone you think would like the story.
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