The Enterprise of Death - Jesse Bullington [123]
XXVII
The High Cost of Living
“You called it a hyena,” Awa asked Johan, the male skeleton. “How do you know that’s what the monster was?”
Awa had not heard of hyenas from her tutor, though well he might have warned his pupil against that bane of grave and grave robber alike. Her parents had cautioned her of them when she was a child, though she had forgotten that particular boogeyman until the skeleton had used the term. The hyena had come as close to killing her as even her tutor had managed, and she was horrified to recall that in her panic she had so freely given it her name. Even after consuming all the requisite pieces of the heartless dead man Awa found herself unable to move from the cave she had found without the assistance of her two skeletal companions—they had only that night carried off a goat from a nearby village, the hoof now boiling down for Awa to consume.
“My line o work meant being appraised’ve mythical whatsits,” said Johan, putting his finger bones in the bubbling pot and giving the hoof a squeeze to see how it was softening. The rest of the creature smoked on spits strategically balanced around the stewpot, and the skeleton removed his hand and blew on the steaming bones. “Not so mythical, I suppose, but there it is. Hyena. Got magic rocks in his head, too, shame you didn’t catch’em.”
“Magic rocks?” Ysabel, the female skeleton, glanced at Awa.
“Well, it’s not so credible like magic string that hides a hoof, or, you know, resurrecting the dead like our names is Lazarus, I’ll give you fair,” said Johan. “But Philosopher’s Stone in the ol’ eyeball mightn’t be so far-fetched.”
“And what was your line of work?” asked Ysabel. “I’m sure our mistress is curious.”
“Awa,” said she, “please, I’m not your mistress. Just call me—”
“Mistress wants to know, she’ll ask,” said Johan. “Think your hoof’s about ready, if—”
“Does graverobbing sound like a business to you, mistress?” Ysabel asked Awa, who was having a time of it adjusting to voices outside her own addressing her on a regular basis.
“That,” said Johan, “is pure shit. Pure shit. I look like I got a beard to you?”
Without any skin or musculature it was difficult to tell if he was genuinely upset or only joking, and he and the woman bickered on as Awa closed her eyes and listened. They had stayed with her for days now and neither had volunteered why they wanted to return to life, and if they kept this noise up much longer Awa would demand a damn good reason or banish them back to death. The thought, harsh though it surely was, curled her lips into a smile that caught the attention of her companions.
“Course, she don’t mind you being a graverobber,” said Ysabel, and, opening her eyes, Awa saw they were both staring at her.
“Heard’ve resurrection men afore,” said Johan. “But didn’t think they meant nothing like her.”
“Look,” said Awa, the pain in her leg faded to the point that holding a thought long enough to voice it was easy, if not exactly pleasurable. “I gather you both have your reasons for wanting to come back …”
“Her first,” said Johan, pointing at Ysabel.
“Now, how’s that fair?” protested Ysabel. “He should have to go first for trying to do me like that!”
“Out with it, Johan,” said Awa. “What do you want?”
“I want to be a relic,” said he, clapping his hand over his jawbone as soon as the words left it.
“You what?” asked Awa as Ysabel laughed and laughed, her teeth chattering.
“I want,” Johan repeated slowly, “to be a relic. I don’t expect it’s in your powers to make