Liah could endure the horror no longer. She sprang from behind the shrubs prepared to fight. She would battle the lot of them—the guards, the drunken guests, the Empress herself—but before she could make a move, she met the bone carver’s gaze.
He startled at the sight of her, but his surprise quickly turned to fear. He shook his head, and, as always, Liah understood his gesture. Despite the rage and sorrow filling her insides, she knew then there was nothing she could do to help him. He had chosen his fate, and she could not alter it.
For a long while it seemed there was not enough air in the world to fill her lungs. She stood alone, small and unnoticed, gasping for breath. The sights and sounds and smells seemed to fade, and it was as though she were once again alone in the world.
Memories shifted like shadows in Liah’s mind. She had been very young when the bone carver had taken her in. She recalled little of that time. Though, what had never left her were the feelings—feelings of desperation and utter despair as she wandered the countryside, then feelings of safety and security when the bone carver discovered her. He had fed her, had given her shelter, had instructed her in the mystical skill of carving, and now, all she could do was stand idly by and watch him perish.
Suddenly, Liah’s eyes fell on the bone carver’s sack. She would not abandon that, too. While all attention was on the flaming cylinder, she crept toward it, gathered it up, and slipped back into the shadows. Clutching the cloth tightly to her chest, breathing in its familiar scent, she began to softly weep.
When at last the fire was extinguished, the Empress’s voice rang out. “Let the bones cool. Then place them in a box. Hang it for all to see. Their spirits shall know no rest.”
The cruel words startled Liah to her senses. She wiped the hot tears from her face as her anguish turned once again to anger. She would avenge her master. She would find a way to win back his bones. Only then could she perform the rituals to release his spirit and give him rest. As Liah waited, she devised a plan.
When a wooden box was placed before the Empress, Liah summoned her courage and stepped out from her hiding place once more. She walked calmly toward the Empress. Bowing low, she opened the sack and offered up the exquisite gifts.
Captivated by the unparalleled beauty of the carvings, the Empress requested a butterfly hairpin be brought to her. She held it gleaming in the waning light of dusk, its gossamer wings so light they might come alive and fly away.
“In exchange for these treasures, I ask only for the bones,” she said, pointing to the flaming cylinder.
“And what if I refuse?” said the Empress plainly. “I do not need your permission to keep these treasures. I offer payment out of kindness, not by command.”
“You may keep the carvings, it is true,” said Liah slyly. “But if you give me what I ask, I shall return with a most precious carving. One worthy of true greatness.”
The Empress gazed long and hard into Liah’s eyes. Liah thought it might be a pleasing face were it not for the severity in her eyes. Even her hair was pulled tightly off her face, stretching her skin to the limits of elasticity. Then the Empress smiled, but as she did, it was all the more frightening.
“Take the bones, if you so desire.”
Liah breathed a sigh of relief, but then the Empress added, “Only, do not disappoint me. If you fail to return, or if your gift is less pleasing than your promise, you and your entire village shall pay for the insult.”
Liah thought about all the women and children in her village. She wished them no harm. But she would not let the bone carver’s death go unchallenged. She accepted the Empress’s terms.
When at last the pyre had cooled, the guards began sifting through the ashes. But after a moment, they drew back, muttering excitedly among themselves. The Empress bade them explain.
“Something strange and unnatural is at work,” said one of the guards, “for in this ash is the bones of one man, not two. The other has disappeared.”