“Oops,” the pirate said.
He started to run after it, but his toes caught on a loose cobblestone and he tripped and fell hard, his head striking a hitching post with a crack and snap as he went down. After he hit the street, he did not move.
“Keeler!” Yap cried, and he raced to his companion’s side.
Amberhill joined him and immediately saw that the pirate had not only gashed his head open, but had broken his neck as well. Already the reek of decay drifted up from the pirate’s body and Amberhill grimaced. Like the other pirates he had slain, Keeler’s corpse decomposed rapidly before him, flesh sinking into ribs, his face turning into a grinning skull.
Amberhill drew his parrying knife and cut away the pirate’s shirt.
“What are ya doing?” Yap demanded, balling his fists.
“Checking for treasure,” Amberhill replied.
Yap backed away. Evidently he knew to what treasure Amberhill referred.
Amberhill turned back to the corpse, feeling like a grave robber preparing to practice his skills. That was another rumor he heard in the night, of menders paying fees to grave robbers to bring fresh corpses to them so they might cut open the bodies and learn what they could of their inner workings. But this was no fresh corpse. He pulled out a handkerchief, covered his nose and mouth, cut into the parchmentlike skin of the pirate, and peeled it away from the bones.
Amid the gore within were glints of gold, and globules he at first took to be the eggs of some creature. Some parasite? He nudged one with the tip of his knife, then dug it out. He held it pinched between thumb and index finger to better see it in the lamplight.
Yap had overcome his fear or revulsion or whatever to peer at what Amberhill had found. Amberhill wondered briefly why the fellow did not simply run off. Curiosity? It appeared he did not perceive Amberhill as a threat, and why should he when Amberhill hadn’t even drawn his rapier to defend himself against the drunken Keeler? Nor did he detect any great sense of loyalty in Yap for his dead friend.
Something rumbled in the pirate’s chest. “Keeler was fond of oysters,” he said.
Amberhill smiled. The globule was a pearl. There were many inside Keeler. He dropped the one into the cavity he’d created, stood, and swept off his cloak. He laid it flat on the street beside the corpse. “Help me, will you?” he asked Yap.
When the pirate saw what he was about, he helped transfer Keeler’s remains onto the cloak—not that Keeler had much bulk left to him anymore. Amberhill folded the cloak to help conceal the corpse, then took up the head end. Yap, catching on, took the feet.
“Where we taking him?” Yap inquired.
“Where all bones must go.”
Amberhill felt even more like a grave robber as he and Yap stole through Sacor City’s deepest shadows with their burden between them. They might find concealment in the dark, but, unfortunately, little could be done about the stench. Fortunately, most citizens were abed at this hour. Just so long as they didn’t run into a constable ...
Yap kept up as best he could, his breathing harsh and his bare feet slapping the cobbles of the street behind Amberhill. His steps were sometimes clumsy, but he asked no questions, did not try to murder Amberhill, did not run off.
Fortunately, Amberhill’s destination was not terribly far. It was a small, unkempt cemetery off Egg Street—one of many tiny cemeteries located throughout the city. Because space was limited, it was common practice in Sacor City to bury the dead for a time, then remove their bones to an ossuary. Some wealthy citizens had permanent graves or mausoleums, but ordinary citizens usually accepted the community ossuary as their final resting place. Some were so packed with bones that they had to be closed, and the remains therein moved elsewhere.
The gate to the cemetery off Egg Street was broken, hanging from one hinge only. Amberhill and Yap slipped in with their burden. Among the weeds were wooden markers protruding at irregular angles. They followed a worn path toward the back corner of the cemetery where the stone vault that served as the ossuary stood. It did not take much to break the lock. The door groaned inward, and the building exhaled a fetid, musty breath. It was actually preferable to the stench Amberhill had been carrying in his cloak.
“What,” he asked Yap, “do you suppose is the opposite of a grave robber?”
Yap scratched his head. “A grave returner?”
Amberhill did not enter the vault, but stood in the doorway and pitched Keeler’s bones inside, crumbs of flesh falling from them. As undignified as his treatment of the bones might be, it was probably better than Keeler deserved. Yap certainly made no protest.
When he finished, he brushed his hands off, then closed the door to the vault. He gathered up his cloak, carefully folding into it whatever tiny bits remained of Keeler and the treasure that had been contained in the pirate’s corpse.
“What now?” Yap asked.
The moon was setting and daybreak would soon be upon them. It was time to return home.
“I have questions,” Amberhill said. “Will you come with me someplace where we can talk? Voluntarily?”
A look of astonishment overtook Yap’s face. “Voluntarily ...” he murmured, as though the concept had never occurred to him. “Aye. I think I should like to.”
By the time they reached the noble quarter and Amberhill’s house, birds were awake and chattering in the trees. Dawn was shifting the world from night to morning dusk.
Again, Yap had followed without asking questions and seemed to absorb his surroundings with interest. Amberhill led him to the back of the house and stashed his bundled cloak beneath a shrub bordering the foundation. The groundskeeper was not due today, and it was well concealed, so it ought to be safe for the time being.