Dragon Coast by Greg van Eekhout

help me with my convalescence and get me back on my feet. Nose around, get into the dirt, talk to the housekeepers, bring back intel on who’s who.”
    â€œYou want me to be charming or terrifying?”
    â€œYour usual combination of both will probably be good.”
    â€œAnd what are you doing while I’m making friends and victims?”
    Daniel approached a bookcase and sniffed. He ran his fingers along the spines of leather-bound volumes and smelled his finger. It smelled of Paul. The scent was faint, because Paul hadn’t been here in over a year, and the more efficient an osteomancer, the less magic he wasted on aroma. Paul was a very efficient osteomancer, and Daniel doubted many other noses could pick up his residue. But Paul was made of Daniel’s own magic, and that gave him an advantage.
    He pulled a bloodred book from the shelf, and the bookcase slid aside, revealing a black door. There was no knob, no visible lock or hardware of any kind, just smooth, matte-black wood.
    Daniel rapped his knuckles against it. “Me? I’m going to work on this.”
    â€œI’ll start with the kitchen staff, then,” Moth said.
    â€œBring back milk and cookies,” Daniel called after him.
    He went back to sniffing, moving his nose around the edges of the door. He detected no sphinx or nhang lock, no familiar magic barriers, but Daniel was certain Paul’s workshops were on the other side of the door: his stores of osteomantic bones, his equipment. And, most important, the axis mundi bone.
    He began work on a key.
    He’d performed magic in alleys, behind dumpsters, crammed into air vents, sitting on toilets in bus station rest rooms. But Paul had a lovely writing desk of wood so rich Daniel was tempted to lick it. Might as well work in comfort, he thought.
    He got out his osteomancy kit and rummaged inside for the powdered bone of three different breath-stealing creatures. He sprinkled the powder into a glass vial and held the vial to the flame of his torch. Drawing in air from the room—air that Paul had inhaled and exhaled—the powder turned from fog-gray to chalk-white, eventually crumbling into finer grains and dissolving. A small quantity of clear fluid rested at the bottom of the vial.
    With a Q-tip, he swabbed his dead brother’s condensed breath on the door and it swung open, letting him into Paul’s world.

 
    TEN
    The plane rocked and dipped in the air like a barrel in the rapids. Rain shot out of the darkness and splattered against the windshield. Gabriel sat next to the pilot, a man with a lumberjack build and a blond beard cascading down his chest. The pilot peered at his gauges through gold-rimmed aviators, rarely bothering to look up from his instrument panel. Granite mountain crags and javelin points of fur trees allegedly lurked below, but Gabriel couldn’t see anything.
    â€œSo you’re comfortable with everything that’s going on?” he asked over the headset.
    The pilot’s eyes crinkled, but Gabriel couldn’t tell if he was smiling or grimacing below his bushy mustache. “This is the most dreadful weather I’ve ever pushed a plane through, sir. To tell you the truth, I’m pretty scared.”
    The plane shuddered and jumped like the EKG of a troubled heart.
    â€œI thought pilots were supposed to be stoic and reassuring. I was led to believe this. I was promised this.”
    â€œIs this your first time flying, sir?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œI hope it doesn’t leave you with a bad impression.”
    The plane jolted, and Gabriel bit his lip to suppress a gasp.
    â€œSorry, sir. It’ll all be over soon.”
    â€œWhat do you mean, ‘over’?”
    â€œI mean, we’re almost there.”
    â€œI thought you meant we were going to crash.”
    The pilot’s lack of response was not encouraging.
    Gabriel twisted around in his seat. In the rear compartment, Max shifted as if