“What kinds of rituals?” I wondered if she knew about the Oaths, or if asking might cause her to suspect our true intentions in coming here.
“It requires a willing host,” she said. “They must first take the mark of the god to designate themselves as the chosen vessel. Then they give a food offering, generally whatever is freshestin season or being harvested at the time. Third is purification. A special tea is prepared to cleanse the body and purge it of impurity…”
As Sybil carried on with the steps, they sounded eerily familiar. Not the same as what the cult dictated, but close. The mark was the brand Kit and I bore on our chests. The food offering was now human remains, the tea had become hemlock poison, and I imagined once I learned what the future Oaths were, the rest would line up, too. Good acts turned to bad. Excuses to cause suffering and ruin.
“But if they’ve twisted it, if they’re doing the rituals wrong, then it won’t work?” It wasn’t entirely a question, but I almost hoped I was wrong. If all the Bone Men had done and were yet to do was for nothing, then Kit and I were also wasting our time trying to stop them.
Sybil took her teacup for a sip. “I’m not sure what exactly they’re doing, but it is calculated. Carefully considered. They’ve been striving toward it for some time.”
“Years,” I murmured.
During my time in Ashpoint, I hadn’t heard much talk about their ultimate goal, their mission or purpose. And I hadn’t seen it, either, nothing beyond the bones brought in for the second Oath and spread on the altar in the Ossuary. Wherever they went from there, I didn’t know. I didn’t think Kit knew, either. Even the Vessel itself was hidden from sight. I would have thought they’d be proud of the thing. Erected it in the city square and let the people gather around. A niggling part of me wondered if it existed at all.
“Why the bones, though?” I asked Sybil. “If all they need is one willing person, what good is it to rob graves and steal dead bodies?”
The Symbiarch hummed through her next swallow. “Living bodies are fragile, temporary things. They aren’t meant to hold agod for more than a brief visit. And a vessel still retains their own spirit, their own mind. From what I know of the Bone Men, they seek more control than that.”
Dead bodies because living ones would ruin their plans. A willing, living vessel, one who had completed the correct rituals, could presumably sabotage the entire event. None of the stolen cadavers had been willing, and that seemed to be a critical piece. If Eeus was called down, he might well turn up his nose at the Bone Men’s creation.
Iwas willing. I already bore Eeus’s mark. And I was relatively certain I could accomplish the rest.
Grabbing my satchel, I shifted it into my lap and opened it to dig inside for my sketchbook and pencil. After Anders’s snooping, I was almost nervous to open it in front of Sybil and accidentally turn to the wrong page, so I went to the very last one and began scrawling furious notes.
Sybil leaned in to peer at the words I was putting down. “Have you been inspired, after all?”
“Yes.” I nodded. “Tell me more.”
The Symbiarch chuckled into her cup. “Hmm,” she said. “Let me think.”
While she pondered, I numbered the list, filling in details before I forgot them. I was so mired in concentration that I jumped when Sybil spoke again.
“Did you know they’re lovers?”
I jerked up. “Who?”
“Paneus and Eeus,” she replied. “Two halves of a whole, though it’s often overlooked these days. Their union creates balance.”
She said it casually, as if it were common knowledge, but it wasn’t common to me. For as much as my mother revered Paneus, Eeus was an unwelcome topic of conversation. He was a threat to our way of life, often blamed for bringing blightand poor harvests. Sybil’s acceptance of a deity who had been a scourge in my family’s eyes for as long as I could remember was surprising, but my focus stalled on her earlier statement.
“But they’re both…” I stammered. “I mean, aren’t they depicted as men?”
“Yes,” Sybil replied.
Tears stung my eyes, and I tried to blink them back. The Symbiarch looked almost amused by the flush of emotion overtaking my features and the way I stammered through my next question.
“And they’re… They love each other?”
She nodded and returned her cup to the table. “One cannot exist without the other. They needandlove each other.”
Like Kit and me. Now that I had him, I couldn’t fathom living without him. I didn’t want to. On the heels of that revelation came a sort of bubbly feeling, levity that shoved off the weight of shame that had plagued me for so long. Maybe forever.
I squeezed my hands together on top of my open sketchbook, not minding if Sybil stared at my scars while my thoughts churned.
“I love a man too,” I murmured. “My parents never really approved. I thought…” I swallowed, fighting the feelings that threatened to silence me. “I always felt like I was failing them by being… different.”
The Symbiarch smiled sympathetically. “It’s not so different.”
My huffed breath sounded more like a sob. “It is where I’m from.”
