Nettle & Bone

by T. Kingfisher

The trees were full of crows and the woods were full of madmen. The pit was full of bones and her hands were full of wires.

Marra both resented her mother for being so clear-eyed and was grateful to be free of the game, and she added this to the store of complicated things piled up beneath her heart.

The goats watched her suspiciously, but that did not mean anything, because goats watched everyone suspiciously. She suspected that they didn’t think much of her shoveling technique.

Kania stood just inside the door, her face blank, as if she had stepped away from her own face for a little while and retreated somewhere deep inside.

What kind of monster is walking with me? What am I about to unleash? She’s not just an old woman with a chicken

“How did you get a demon in your chicken?” “The usual way. Couldn’t put it in the rooster. That’s how you get basilisks.”

I’m not entirely sure it was made, in truth. Some things come into being once it’s inevitable that they will exist.”

It looked like a market, but such a market as Marra had never seen. There were jeweled pavilions crowded next to mud huts and hide tents and things that looked like upside-down bird nests.

the abbess always said that most people want gods to be close enough to get them if you want them, but not have them breathing down your neck all the time.”

but he only looked bemused. “Another godmother?” “Yes. Can you go tell her I’m here?” “Is she expecting you?” Agnes shrugged. “Well, I don’t really know, do I? If she’s an extremely powerful godmother, she might be able to see the future, in which case yes. But if she’s like the rest of us, then probably not. Or she might be very powerful, but not good at seeing the future, which happens, too. Futures are very muddy. You can’t really get much out of them, you know.”

She wondered if all the old stories of heroes slaying monsters and maidens locked in towers had involved long, tedious stretches of trying to find the monsters or build the towers in the first place. Probably. No, almost certainly. Who wants to hear the dull practical bits?

“Relax,” said Agnes, as they emerged into the alley. “It’s normal. Gossip about the royal family is the only real benefit to having one. You have to let people enjoy it.”

“I can fret,” snapped Marra. “And I intend to!” “And I won’t stop you.” Agnes patted her arm. “A good fret is balm for the soul. Just don’t overdo it.”

She smiled gently, that tiny, frazzled woman. “There’s only one story about godmothers that’s always true. Bad things happen if you don’t invite us to the christening.”

You’re a terrible liar, Marra. You look as if you’re afraid the universe is ashamed of you.”

“So that bird really is a demon,” said Fenris, eyeing the shadow. “Of course she is. Why would I lie about something that ridiculous?”

Marra thought, I’m surrounded by lunatics, and I love them all, but maybe we should be running anyway. She took another step back.

The brown hen stood on the death mask, which had split in two, looking as serene as only a chicken can look.

This book started in a grocery store parking lot, with the line “with the dog made of bone at your side.” I don’t know why, but that line showed up in my head and started hammering away like a tuneless earworm.