Empire of Bones by N. D. Wilson Page A

turned and faced the crowd, his shoulders slumping. He held out the sword for the Captain, and his words were as weary as his eyes.
    “I am a man of blood, Antigone Smith. It would not have been the first time I have executed a man in the field.” He glanced from Llewellyn to the Captain. “But wisdom can walk beyond justice. Look at us. Many in the Order are fearful of choosing our side in this war, fearful that we are nothing but ragged scofflaws with no creed but defiance.”
    “Cowards,” grunted the Captain. “Fen-suckled foot lickers.”
    “Maybe,” Rupert said. “But while we are outlaws in fact, we will not be in spirit. If we begin the hunt for Phoenix, we will need help, and our little band is off-putting enough already.”
    Niffy began to laugh, his round face split wide. “Off-putting?” He tipped Flint’s head back and forth. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that. You’re a right lovely lot—the spider queen herself doling out doses.” He curtsied at Arachne, and then eyed Nolan. “And he’ll be the snakeskin thief, if I know my lists, and in the same band as Gilgamesh of Uruk, the hero thug who cursed him?”
    “I am not of this band,” Gil said. He shifted slightly where he stood and the floor creaked beneath his shadow. “But I am at peace.”
    “Brilliant,” said Niffy, and he ran a thick hand over the stripe of curly hair on his scalp. “Just tagging along, then, to observe and report back to your brother beasts?”
    Gil sniffed, and his nostrils flared. “And who are you, monk? Why are you here?”
    Niffy ignored him, continuing on with a grin.
    “And of course who could forget the traitor Captain, father of the Smiths turned transmortal Dracul killer? Your O of B is even ashamed of his crest.” Niffy crossed his thick arms. “Rupert Greeves, your little band is beyond off-putting. You could execute a dozen of Phoenix’s men in this fireplace and worry no one at all. You’ve had one trial already, and as grand and dramatic and lovely as it was, it’s time for another. This time you’ll all be on the block.” Niffy looked around the room. His cheeks fell and the last residue of his smile vanished.
    “The beast of Uruk has asked my errand. Well, I amBrother Boniface Brosnan, Cryptkeeper of Monasterboice, numbered among the Brothers of the Voyager, the first and only true Order of Brendan. The Brothers sent me to make a judgment and deliver a message.”
    “Ignoring your petty rivalry, what are you talking about?” Rupert growled. “What message?”
    Niffy sniffed and wiped his nose on the back of his hand. “Well, that will depend on the judgment, won’t it? You have been seeking allies for your war. I am here. An ambassador. Are you to be the allies or enemies of my order?”
    “Irishman,” the Captain said, “ye’d be wise to watch your words.”
    “Sit, Captain,” Niffy said. “Please. Transmortals to my left, mere humanity to my right. This won’t take long. Will someone fetch the Pythian oracle from the roof?”
    Rupert stared at Niffy.
    “I’m a man of the cloth,” Niffy said, smiling. “And a possible friend. You need some of those, yeah? So indulge me.”

 six 
    JUDGE, JURY, MESSENGER
    C YRUS SQUIRMED IN HIS SEAT until Antigone elbowed him in the ribs. Then, just for her, he squirmed a little harder. The two of them were wedged into a short wooden couch with itchy wool cushions on the humanity side of the room. Of the mortals, only Rupert stood.
    Cyrus glanced back at the door. His mother had been pretty shaken by the interrogation of Flint. Of course she had been. And Cyrus hadn’t even noticed. Not until Dan had asked that they be excused from Niffy’s little show and had practically carried her from the room. And now Antigone was angry because Rupert had told her to stay. She was even angrier because she hadn’t noticed how upset her mother was in the first place. And now her elbows were taking it out on Cyrus.
    Ten normal humans , Cyrus thought. It was