Aboriginal pointing bones

https://i.imgur.com/1PCkf2y.jpg
Note: Image isn't from Green's books. There isn't one that exists, really.

Let's talk about aboriginal pointing bones.

Aboriginal pointing bones are one of the most commonly seen artifacts in Simon R. Green's books. (Ironically so, given that the Nightside series establishes them to be rare and hard to acquire.) Originally introduced as a sort of instant-death wand, they require shamanic knowledge in order to use, but in return allow for some fairly spectacular feats of magic.

Our first real description of one comes from John Taylor, in the form of a threat.
[QUOTE="Hell to Pay"]Which gave me all the time I needed to draw a small brown human bone out of my right pocket and show it to the bodyguards. They all stood very still, and I grinned nastily.

“That’s right, boys. This is a pointing bone. All I have to do is point and say the Word, and whoever I’m pointing it at will be going home in a coffin. So pick up what’s left of Ramon, and get the hell out of my sight.”

“You’re bluffing,” said one of the bodyguards, but he didn’t sound as though he meant it.

“Don’t be an idiot,” said the man beside him. “That’s John bloody Taylor. He doesn’t need to bluff.”[/QUOTE]

Later on we see that this is one of the rare instances where John is, in fact, not bluffing.
[QUOTE="Hell to Pay"]“You’re nothing down here,” Libby said savagely. “And just for that, I think I’ll cut something off Eleanor, too, for you to take back to her father.”

He raised his right hand to show me the scalpel in it, and smiled. The other thugs grinned and elbowed each other, anticipating a show. And I raised my hand to show them the piece of human bone I’d shown in Hecate’s Tea Room. Everyone stood very still.

“This,” I said, “is an aboriginal pointing bone. Very old, very basic magic. I point, and you die. So, who goes first?”

“This is my place,” said Libby, still smiling. “I’m protected, and you’re bluffing, Taylor.”

I stabbed the bone at Libby and muttered the Words, and he fell dead to the floor.

“Not always,” I said.[/QUOTE]

By the way, the man who said "I'm protected, and you're bluffing, Taylor." wasn't lying either. This took place in a gambling den soaked in protections specifically designed to nullify any magic that the owner didn't approve of. The man above was the owner.
[QUOTE="Hell to Pay"]Libby actually growled at us, like a dog before regaining his composure. “I saw you in action, Mr. Taylor, during the Lilith War. Most impressive. But that was then, and this is now, and this is my place. Due to the nature of my business, I have found it necessary to install all kinds of protective magics here. The best money can buy. Nothing happens here that I don’t want to. Down here, in my place, there’s no-one bigger than me.”

“A gambling den, soaked in hidden magics?” I said. “I am shocked, I tell you, shocked. You’ll be telling me next your games of chance aren’t entirely on the up and up.”[/QUOTE]

In John's hands, an aboriginal pointing bone can even "kill" objects. Here he causes a door to rot and decay just by pointing at it with the bone and saying some Words:
[QUOTE="Hell to Pay"]I took one final deep breath, to steady me, and headed straight for the front door. Nothing and no-one appeared to stop me. When I got to the door, it was locked. And when the Hall’s defences blocked Sister Josephine, they also kept out her Hand of Glory.

I shook the handle hard, just in case, but the door was very big and very heavy, and it hardly moved in its frame. I didn’t even bother trying my shoulder against it. I checked the lock; it was large and blocky and very solid-looking. I knew a few unofficial ways to open stubborn locks but nothing that would get past the Hall’s powerful defences. I suddenly remembered the golden key Paul had pressed on me as he was dying. He must have known it would come to this. I fished the key out of my coat-pocket and tried it in the door lock, but it didn’t fit. Not even close. I put the key away again and scowled at the closed door. I hadn’t come this far, got this close, to be stopped by a simple locked door. So when in doubt, think laterally.

I ran quickly through a mental list of what I had on me, searching for anything useful, then smiled suddenly and took out the aboriginal pointing bone. I stabbed the bone at the door, saying all the right Words, and the heavy wood of the door heaved and buckled as though trying to flinch away from the awful thing that was killing it. The wood cracked and blackened, rotting and decaying in moments, and great holes opened up in the spongy dead matter. I put the bone away and thrust both hands into the sagging holes, tearing at them until I finally had a gap big enough to force my way through.[/QUOTE]

In the hands of any shaman who knows what they're doing, a pointing bone has the power to remove things from reality.
[QUOTE="The Spy Who Haunted Me"]And suddenly there in his hand was an Aboriginal pointing bone. A small discoloured human bone, baptised in blood and murder magic. An Aboriginal shaman who knew what he was doing could point it at things that shouldn’t be in this world and make them disappear.[/QUOTE]

Sandra Chance, a prolific necromancer in the Nightside, proves this by using her own aboriginal pointing bone to (albeit temporarily) force animating spirits generated by an Outsider out of reality.
[QUOTE="Hex and the City"]Sandra Chance's magics were mostly useless, being concerned primarily with the dead, not elementals, but she was still fighting back. She stood proudly in a shimmering circle of protection, magnificently angry, forcing back the psychenaut intrusions by sheer force of will. She had an aboriginal pointing bone, and in whichever direction she trained it the animating forces were thrust out of the material world. But only for a while. They always came back.[/QUOTE]

An aboriginal pointing bone doesn't [I]have[/I] to send things out of reality, however. In the right hands, it can simply teleport someone from one place to the next, though doing this to a Drood (even an unarmoured one) is enough to render it useless afterwards.
[QUOTE="From a Drood to a Kill"]I knew he’d have no hesitation in shooting if he thought it necessary. But I also knew he was so confident in his own abilities, it would never even occur to him that he needed to armour up to protect himself.
So I gave the nod to Molly, and she jabbed a specially prepared aboriginal pointing bone at the Serjeant. And just like that, he was gone. Teleported right out of the Hall and onto the grounds outside. Quite a long way off, to be exact—on the far side of the ornamental lake. By the time he could make his way back to the Hall, this should all be over. One way or another. Molly looked at the pointing bone in her hand. The sheer strain of what it had been asked to do had charred and cracked it from end to end. It’s not easy, making a Drood go somewhere he doesn’t want to go. Molly shrugged, tossed the bone aside, and we moved on.[/QUOTE]

More confirmation that an aboriginal pointing bone can kill instantly, as well as BFR souls, rewrite reality on a small scale, and erase people from existence.
[QUOTE="From Hell With Love"]Another soldier stepped up, and stabbed an Aboriginal pointing bone at me. Now those are pretty serious magic; a shaman who knows what he’s doing can kill you with a bad thought, throw your soul into the Dreaming, even rewrite reality itself on a small scale. Fortunately, most of that kind of magic has been lost, or forgotten. And this guy really hadn’t done his homework. The bone’s spell hit my armour, rebounded, and blasted the guy right out of existence.[/QUOTE]

As a last note, we never see him use it, but Walker owns one of these pointing bones as well.
[QUOTE="The Spy Who Haunted Me"]Walker was pulling an Aboriginal pointing bone from his waistcoat pocket. Peter was drawing a large handgun from a concealed holster. The Blue Fairy was chanting a curse at the Hyde, old elf magic . . .[/QUOTE]

These weapons feature heavily enough in Green's setting that, should someone try to throw a character at the entire verse (lol), we can presume that most major factions have at least one. Several organizations-of-the-week in the Secret Histories books have mooks carrying these as a standard, and the Droods are confirmed to have a few of their own.