Page 81 of The Thrice-Bound Fool

They said something like

HOWEVER STRONG THE WALLS

THOSE WHO BUILD NO WINDOWS LOSE WARS

SEE YOUR ENEMY AND PREVAIL

The hush lasted a moment longer, then, as the Praxeter exited, his arms held up in ecstasy, the Halfmoon erupted in chatter as everyone began to discuss the month’s lesson.

“Something-nonsense-hrem-alem,” said one whom I gathered to be a general.

“Something-hum-a-dum-something else,” said another, who looked like he hadn’t done a poo in a month and a half.

“Grabbus-abbus-ding-dong!” said the queen.

“Do you see?” Renata whispered in my ear. “Boring.”

27A Blarghing in the Bone Palace

I’ll tell you what wasn’t boring—the procession from the Halfmoon to the Bone Palace. Imagine most of a city’s population filing out of one huge stadium, crossing half the town center, and filing into another. Meanwhile, slaves both kynd and giant danced along the roads, and musicians played all manner of horns and drums. At one point, several large booms rang out overhead, and I yelled and jumped, put in mind of the bangs that had killed and burned the giants who raided the camel-riding Wostrans. But instead of fire and carnage, these booms rained the whole mob with flower petals. Some of these were on fire, mind, and I did hear some yips of pain by those who’d gotten touched with an ember—but the petals, in violet and pink, were mostly a fabulous success. Renata shrieked with joy, waving her hands about in them, and said, “Father, Father, thank you!” to the king, who walked ahead with his hand up, palm toward the sky, which is a pose of leadership for the Erydon. He snuck a look back over his shoulder and winked at her.

The cloud-ships responsible for the floral bombards passed overhead like slow red fish in a fever dream, and now they began to rain something else—paper. Little square pieces of paper with writing on them, called leaflets. The halfies were fetching them out of the sky as they fell, and soon I had one.

It was a list of names.

Also, different sorts of animals.

But the letters were uniform, unlike anything I’d seen scribed. This was my first experience with printed letters.

“It’s a schedule of the games,” Renata said. “Can you read, Kitch?”

“Not in Erydon,” I lied.

She didn’t need to know I could read anything I put my eyes to.

Soon we were at the stadium known as the Bone Palace. From a distance, I thought it was made of white stone. Then I thought it was white stone with skillfully carved scenes in it. Then I thought the scenes featured stone carvings of skeletons. Then I realized they weren’t carvings at all. The creamy white stone of the stadium had been fitted with armies of actual skeletons mortared in, re-creating battles between kynd and giants, or showing scenes of dancing. Some held pipes or horns to their fleshless mouths as though playing music. As we came to the main gate, we saw the most epic figure yet—the skeleton of a geigon, near thirty feet tall like Pulhu, who lifted the ascender at the royal palace, had been plated in gold, one hand holding a great hammer aloft. He was crowned in real fire that I later learned burned the gases of the mountain, as the city’s lamps did. The figure’s other hand held a chain around the neck of a hellish golden dog the size of three oxen.

I looked at the princess, awed.

She was pleased to see the thing’s effect on me.

“Thumos victorious,” she said. “That’s his hammer of fate. He uses it to open great channels in the earth and to direct his rivers of fire and gold. See there, that’s his fire-dog, Magmas, chained to his belt. He sends it to destroy cities that dishonor or fail him.”

“Has that really happened?” I asked.

“Oh yes,” she said with a terrifying glee, as if a dog of fire destroying a city was the most wonderful thing she could imagine.

I felt a shudder and exaggerated it, making a horsey noise of fear.

She cackled laughter.

“Oh, you are a merry fool, Kitch! Even more merry than Hasp-a-Rasp. Perhaps we should let him die now and just keep you!” she said and picked me up in a walking bear hug.

And it was in that undignified way, carried like a new toy while paper rained from the sky, that I first entered the Bone Palace.

The Lunar Games weren’t just a gladiatorial event. They were a monthly holiday of the first order. The poor danced and wrestled, the rich feasted and drank, and never had I seen such wasteful gluttony—these karks could eat. They lived for it.

More about that in a moment.