A figure was watching me from the rooftops. Her braided hair framed a Jadan face hardened by thought, and I could tell she had been watching me for some time, her focus directed on my Claw Staff rather than on the Shiver.
I froze, guilty about my temptation. But before I could say anything, she moved, darting off into the night.
I climbed back to the nearest ledge to get another glimpse of her. But what I saw next made my jaw drop even more than finding the Cold.
The girl was running, proud, high, and fast, her back completely straight for all the taskmasters in Paphos to see.
Jadans didn’t run like that, ever. We were inferior, and we were supposed to show it at all times. Her posture was an outright scandal, and my back ached just watching her move.
By the time I caught my footing she was half a dozen rooftops away, her spine as straight and rigid as a plank of wood. Surely she’d be spotted. Surely this would be her last night racing along the rooftops. I sighed, praying that her death might be quick.
I crouched down once again and started crawling home. I’d gathered enough materials for the night anyway.
I tiptoed around Gramble’s guardhouse, making sure the sound of crunching sand under my toes was minimal. My Barracksmaster turned a blind eye to my night runs, but that was all he could do. If he caught me in the act, the Khat’s law required punishment for both of us.
I inched towards the loose panel in the wall of my barracks. Taking one last look up at the sky, my eyes searched for Sister Gale within the flurry of stars. She was bright and shining, blowing tonight’s air cooler than most nights, and I gave Her a quick nod of thanks.
The panel into my barracks came away easily, and I slipped inside mine and my father’s private room. The cracks in the ceiling let in just enough starlight for me to make my way to bed.
Abb, my father, was already lying on top of his blanket, dreaming. I hovered over him for a moment, noting the terrible new angle in his nose. The side of his face was puffy, and in the morning, I knew his eyes would be ringed in crusty purple bruises.
Most nights when I chanced sneaking into the heart of Paphos, I’d come home to find him waiting up for me, ready to eagerly appraise each new piece of treasure and ask what I planned to use it for. I couldn’t wait for the morning, as I was dying to tell him about both Shiver and the girl.
I reached out and placed the almonds I’d found beside his bed. Then, I reached into my bag to sort through my treasure. My new metal links rattled as I filed them away, but Abb didn’t stir. He must have had a long shift over at the Pyramid.
Having tidied my treasures into their respective holes in the ground, I settled onto my blanket and closed my eyes. My remaining few hours were spent dreaming of Cold.
Chapter Two
I awoke with a start to my father hovering over me, smiling as he crunched the almonds.
‘You didn’t wake me,’ he said reproachfully, wincing as he chewed.
I sat up, blinking away the images of long hair and an unseemly posture. I stretched from side to side as I drank in the morning light which filtered through the slats in the roof. I could already tell the Sun wouldn’t be taking it easy on us today. The air inside the room was already stifling, thick with the sky’s hatred.
‘You were asleep,’ I said.
‘Well, that happens every night,’ replied Abb, swallowing the last almond. ‘Not a good excuse.’
I raised an eyebrow. As I’d guessed, the bruises now marked his face. ‘Looked like you needed it.’
He ignored my comment, changing the subject instead. ‘So, what did you find?’ he asked, poking me gently in the chest.
The memory of the Shiver shot back into my mind. ‘I—’
He held up a hand. ‘On second thoughts, I believe I can figure it out by myself.’
‘You’re not going to guess—’
He held a finger up to his lips, a playful look in his eyes. ‘I said I can figure it out. You certainly didn’t learn your listening skills from me, Little Builder.’
The name was one of my father’s continuous jokes, referring both to my inventing and the fact that I still had many years to go before I was assigned to become a Builder like himself. I liked it a lot better than my other nickname.
I shrugged, blinking the sleep away from my mind. My body pleaded for more, but there was nothing I could do until later. Thinking about my new finds, I assured myself the sluggishness was a worthy price.
Abb walked over to my tinker-wall, bearing down upon the stores of materials. I’d dug different ditches for each type, and his fingers swept along the space above the piles.
‘Ah, a new chisel,’ he remarked, pointing to the tool pile. ‘Good find.’
I nodded, my mouth dry and dusty. I tried to dredge up the sweet taste of candy dust, but crawling around all night had given thirst control over my cheeks. I was eager for the bells to ring so we could start our rations, as my head was throbbing from lack of water.
‘Lusty metal,’ Abb said humorously, staring down at the chains. ‘One day you’ll be old enough to understand that joke.’
‘Links,’ I corrected, rolling my eyes. ‘And I understand it just fine.’
He winked, giving me a knowing smile before bending over the pile of jars, fingers snatching something off the top. ‘Where’d you get this?’
He turned around, something foreign in his grip.
At first glance I didn’t recognize what he was holding up. The golden-hued vial was unblemished, and I didn’t remember picking up anything like it. The jars in my stash were usually empty and broken, and I turned the decent ones into medicine vials for Abb. This one, however, looked as if it belonged on the display shelves of an apothecary. The sleep was still thick in my brain and I couldn’t come up with an answer.
Abb came closer, holding it out to me. ‘So, what is it?’
‘I don’t know.’ I squinted, trying to make out the greenish material inside.
Abb’s face broke into a coy smile.
‘Well, it looks like the colour of a birthday present.’ He chuckled, smacking the vial into my palm. ‘Or part of one at least.’
My mouth gaped as I held the vial out to a sunbeam, illuminating its contents. The inside gloop was viscous and slick.
‘This is for me?’ I asked, stunned. I shook the small vial, the jelly wiggling inside. ‘Is this groan salve?’
‘It is indeed,’ he said, with a slight puff of his chest. ‘Mixed carefully with a father’s pride.’
‘How’d you get it?’
‘If you must know the truth.’ He shrugged, going quiet for a moment. ‘It fell from the sky, specifically for you.’
I shook my head, somewhat serious. ‘You can get into trouble for lies like that.’
‘I’ve lived long enough for trouble and I to have grown a mutual respect,’ Abb replied simply, scratching his fingernails across the frizz on my head. ‘But if you’re worried, better use it up quick.’
I pushed his hand away, smiling, and took the cap off the salve. It smelled like a taskmaster’s feet, but I knew it was the best remedy for an unforgiving sting. I’d only ever been lucky enough to find a nip or two before, never a full bottle.
Abb then reached into the top crate of my invention-wall, retrieving one of my crank-fans. It was still a work in progress, since Nobles never threw away good blades, but I’d managed to file down some sturdy awning as a decent substitute.
Abb held the fan in front of his face and turned the lever, spinning air across his cheeks. The little thing gave a garbled whirr, its bearings rusty, but his face lit with delight. Once he’d finished with it, he gave it an appraising nod, as if all was right in the world.
Harsh light now tunnelled through the roof, brighter and more invasive. I could feel the hungry morning heat tasting its first bites of my face. I slapped my cheek, trying to wake myself up a bit.
‘The sky had something else for you, Little Builder,’ Abb said after a few moments, putting the
crank-fan back in its crate.
‘This groan salve is already too much,’ I said. Sometimes Abb’s thoughtfulness overwhelmed me, his gentle heart highlighting the brutality of the previous father to whom I’d been assigned. ‘And would you stop saying the sky had things for me?’
Abb considered the ceiling, stepping out of a strong spear of light. He reached into his pocket and retrieved some things that made me reconsider everything that had happened the night before.
With shaking hands, he offered me three small, gleaming Wisps. I didn’t miss the pleased twitch in his lips as I took them.
My heart raced looking at the three pieces of Cold. I knew Abb was okay with me breaking a few barracks’ rules like sneaking out in the night, and reclaiming rubbish, but never had he encouraged me to break a holy law.
‘We can’t have our own Cold,’ I said, stunned. ‘You’ve said so yourself.’
He nodded, bobbing his head up and down. ‘Perhaps that was true.’
Three tiny Wisps paled in comparison to the might of a Shiver, but it was illegal for a Jadan to keep even the smallest measure of Cold.
‘What do you mean?’
Abb dropped the Wisps in my lap, so I had no choice but to take them. ‘In a way, truth ages, just like we do. You aren’t the same as you were a year ago, nor will you be the same on your next birthday. I think you’re ready for some new truth. So take the Cold. Use the Wisps, or hide them.’ He put a hand on my cheek. ‘Who will know?’
I froze up at his words. How could my father, the best Jadan I’d ever known, encourage such blasphemy?
‘But what about the World Crier?’ I replied, a lump in my throat. ‘He’ll know.’
Abb gave an understanding nod. ‘He let the Cold travel this far.’
‘So?’
Abb sucked his cheek, seemingly testing a bruise from the inside. From the look on his face it was quite painful. ‘So, there are the Noble laws, and there are the Crier laws. They’re not always one and the same.’
I paused, feeling myself getting flustered. This wasn’t a subject we’d ever broached, and I was uncomfortable with his disorienting words. ‘But the Khat …’
‘They’re not always the same, Micah.’ He stretched his fingers, striped with sizzling ribbons of light. ‘But this might be a conversation for another time. Let’s leave it there for now.’
‘Thank you,’ I said in a thin voice, petrified that the Crier might punish me for having the Wisps. But then again, Abb had no signs of plague, or evidence that demons had tried to rip out his eyes, and he’d have been in possession of the Cold for at least a night.
‘Ah, but you can’t thank me yet.’ He smiled. ‘That’s not the last of your gifts.’
‘No more,’ I said, taking shallow breaths just in case. ‘I’m going to have a hard time using all of the others.’
Abb’s face suddenly turned serious. He glanced at the thick boilweed curtain that served as a door, even though I’d heard nothing from the other side.
‘This is not a gift to use, Micah,’ he said, his voice suddenly heavy with emotion. ‘But one for you to remember. Promise me.’
I nodded, a bit afraid of this serious turn in him. A small smirk or tiny laugh usually hovered somewhere about his lips, but right now his face was iron.
Abb placed his fingers on my sweat-riddled forehead. His quiet voice rose and fell in a beautiful lilt I’d never heard before, one which sucked the silence out of the room and transformed it into something more profound, beyond language. My father had a good singing voice, but this felt different from the times he’d forced out the ‘Khat’s Anthem’ or ‘Ode to the Patch’. The devastatingly beautiful sounds coming from his lips left my head reeling.
Then the words stopped almost as swiftly as they’d begun.
‘Again,’ he said in a stern voice, ‘listen.’
I nodded, trying to ready my ears this time.
He repeated the lovely melody, and I caught every last syllable, filing them away like the most precious of my findings.
—Shemma hares lahyim criyah Meshua ris yim slochim—
‘Did you get it?’ he asked, voice soft.
I nodded, concentrating so hard that my ears rang.
‘What does it mean?’ I asked.
‘However would I know a thing like that?’ he asked, removing his fingers and backing away, a bit of the trademark humour returning to his eyes. ‘I don’t speak Ancient Jadan. Now get out of here and find your friends.’ He attempted a broad smile, but winced, the sunlight claiming the bruises on his face. ‘They’re probably eager to give you their own birthday gifts.’
Matty smirked, hands gently slapping his knees in anticipation. ‘What’cha get me?’
The three of us huddled together in a corner of the common chamber, away from the shabby grey flaps that divided the family sleeping areas. Sitting on the sandy floor, our legs were crossed and knees touched so we’d take up the least amount of space.
‘What did I get you?’ I asked. ‘I never thought you would be so greedy.’
Moussa scowled for the group, but aimed a private wink my way. ‘Grit in your figs, Matty. It’s Micah’s birthday. You should just be glad that he got home safe.’
Matty’s face turned bashful. ‘Spout always gets me something when he goes out. Always.’
‘You have got to stop calling him that.’ Moussa let out a pained sigh. ‘Don’t you know that no one calls him that any more?’
I shrugged. In truth, most Jadans in our barracks – and indeed in the streets – still called me Spout, a nickname I’d come to terms with a long time ago. It wasn’t just enough that my loose forehead wasted more water than other Jadans my age, they had to remind me of the fact.
‘I don’t mind “Spout”,’ I said. ‘As long as Matty doesn’t mind me sweating on any future gifts.’
Matty lowered his head, eyes going to his lap where his hand was stroking the small feather that I’d fashioned him from metal and fabric. I don’t know why Matty kept up this fascination. Clearly the creatures were extinct, no possible way they could survive in the harsh conditions after the Great Drought.
‘Did’ja see any birds?’ Matty asked, his tone still hopeful, even after all this time.
‘Here’s the thing,’ Moussa said, giving Matty’s ear a playful flick. ‘Why would a creature live in the sky and choose to be close to the Sun? You should know it would crisp up after a few flaps.’
I rehearsed what would surely be Matty’s next words, holding back my smirk. My small yet vibrant friend said the same thing every time: You know, Cold lives up—
‘Y’know,’ Matty said right on cue, guarding the side of his head against another flick. ‘Cold lives up in the sky too. So if there was any birds left, they’d prolly come out at night.’
‘No sign of birds yet,’ I said, cutting off whatever cutting remark Moussa was preparing. ‘But I promise if I see one, I’ll lure it back for you.’
‘Y’know that they sing, don’cha, Moussa?’ Matty said, swiping the feather through a small pillar of light that was sneaking through the ceiling. ‘You could prolly lure one down, if you tried hard enough.’
I looked over at Moussa, hoping the talk of music might cheer him up a little, but he said nothing, his expression remaining sombre. Moussa’s Patch birthday was nearing, and lately he hadn’t been in the singing mood, which was too bad, as his voice was arguably the best in the barracks. On top of that, Sarra and Joon had taken to spending their free hours in one of the empty boilweed divisions, which I imagine didn’t help Moussa feel any less forlorn.
Matty tucked the metal feather behind his ear, licking his dry lips. My small friend looked almost as ready for water as me. ‘One day you’re both gonna see I’m right. I know it.’
‘Doubtful,’ Moussa said under his breath.
‘However, I do have gifts.’ I leaned forward conspiratorially, trying to brighten the mood. ‘And news.’
Matty stuck out his palm, his smile practic
ally spanning the common area.
I produced the marble nose chunk. ‘For our game. I figured you’d know what to do with it.’
Matty wiggled his eyebrows in delight, taking the carving and holding it up to his face. ‘Howsit look?’
‘A bit big,’ Moussa said with a contemplative look. ‘But you should know, most things are big compared to you.’
Matty stuck out his tongue. ‘Just wait some years. When I’m turning fifteen like Spout I’m going to rest my elbow on your head all the time.’
Moussa craned his neck to full height. ‘We’ll see about that.’
I then pulled out the box of gem candy remains and laid it on the hard sand at Moussa’s feet, opening the lid. ‘For you.’
‘It’s not my birthday yet – thank the Crier,’ Moussa replied, shaking his head. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of gears, nearly free of rust, and with most of their teeth. ‘For you.’
My eyes went wide with shock. ‘Where? How did you … Thank you. They’re perfect.’
‘They’re not much.’
I put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Once I need them, they’ll be everything. Tinkering is only fun when you have things to tinker with.’
Matty’s face dropped, guilt flooding his face, and he tried to hand the Khat nose back to me. ‘For you?’
I laughed. ‘Just figure out a place for it in the game. That’s good enough for me. It’s about time we finished that thing.’
‘I should of got’cha something,’ Matty groaned.
‘Really, I don’t need anything else.’
Keeping his head slumped, Matty reached out his arm and tilted his hand backwards, offering up his ‘calm spot’. I touched my thumb to the splotchy birthmark on his wrist, which for some reason comforted my young friend whenever he felt like he’d done something wrong.
‘Family,’ Matty said.
‘Family,’ I repeated, letting go and gesturing both of them closer. ‘So last night I was in the Smith Quarter and found—’
A foot dug into the sand near my knee, spraying up a light coating into our faces. Then a gravelly voice said: ‘They put it in the ground!’
Coldmaker Page 2