Free The Broken Lands by Kate Milford

tree,” he mused with a cold smile, “
I
am that root. I’m the one who brought Bios into being, who created in it the wish to seek out your pillars. But Bios doesn’t need to know that. It
can’t
. Particularly since, as you pointed out, according to the accepted wisdom of the world,
I
should not be commanding it to do
anything
.”
    â€œSo what is it doing, exactly?” Bones asked.
    â€œIt will create new daemons. We told it to search for conversations within the boundaries of the map on the table involving the words you wrote on that parchment. The first time someone speaks one of those words, Bios creates a lesser daemon to follow that person and report back whenever he or she says something else that your list defines as significant. Each of those lesser daemons is represented by a live cinder on the tabletop. With enough of them listening, Bios will be able to show us who your pillars are.”
    â€œThere were already cinders coming to life,” Walker said. “Does that mean Bios is already figuring it out?”
    â€œYes, but slowly,” Christophel warned. “You saw maybe thirty cinders, thirty people speaking words of meaning. That may sound like a lot, but you must remember there are somewhere near one million people in New York and nearly half that again in Brooklyn and the neighboring towns. To make anything more than a haphazard guess as to which of them we want, we need more people talking about you, and quickly.”
    â€œWhich means we need to get moving,” Bones said with a cold smile.
    Christophel held up a hand. “There’s one thing I want to know first,” he said. “I want an answer to the question Walker ignored earlier.”
    Walker eyed him icily. “Why we’re working with Jack.”
    â€œWell, I was going to say working
for
him, but yes.”
    â€œWhy? You want to come aboard?”
    The conjuror hitched up an eyebrow. “I’m satisfied with my situation, but I’ll admit I’m curious.”
    Walker and Bones looked at each other. Then Walker shrugged and gestured toward his companion. “Be my guest.”
    â€œYou have this,” Bones said to Christophel. “This sanctuary, this town. A place that’s yours. A place where you belong.”
    â€œ
Belonging
might be stretching it a touch,” Christophel admitted.
    â€œWe have
nothing
,” Bones continued, an edge of bitterness tingeing his raspy voice. “No sanctuary, no home. And we belong nowhere. The humans are everywhere, like rats and roaches, only louder and messier and generally more unpleasant. We want to be able to stop roaming if we choose. We want a haven to come home to. And Jack . . . Jack has the means to build one for us.”
    â€œHe has the means to claim a place by raining destruction down on a human city,” Christophel corrected. “He has the means to invade, not to build anything new.”
    Bones shrugged. “Humans breed, they migrate, they colonize, they take every inch for themselves. When there is no country left unclaimed because they have taken it all, then the only option left is to take something back. We believe Jack can do this. He’s the only hope we’ve had for a very long time. This is why we have chosen to throw our lots in with his.”
    â€œWell,” Christophel said after a moment, “it’s a reason.”
    â€œSo glad you approve,” Walker said dryly.
    The conjuror gave him a long look. “I didn’t say I approved. But you have satisfied my curiosity, and for that, I thank you.”
    â€œFair enough,” Bones said. “Now, because time is short, we’ll take our leave, Basile. Time to get this place talking.”
    â€œThis next bit should be more to your liking, Redgore,” Christophel observed nonchalantly, a little smile twitching around his mouth.
    Walker’s red-rimmed eyes glittered malevolently. “Oh, yes. I