I pointed to the carving. Abb picked it up and ran his fingers gently over the pupil. ‘That’s what this symbol is about. Not everyone thinks that Jadans deserve to be slaves after all this time. And that’s what the Opened Eye is about. It’s the hope that maybe one day the Crier will end our punishment and Cold will fall again for Jadans. Some say it happened up North already, in Langria, and that the Nobles are keeping it a secret. Others say it’s still a long time away.’
‘Why would the Crier change his mind and end the Drought though, after all this time?’
Abb gave me an odd smile before turning his eyes back to the ceiling, enjoying the starlight.
I scoffed. ‘None of that answers my question. How do you know I’m not being punished for being tempted by that Shiver?’
Abb started shuffling the cards, putting the deck back together. ‘Because I’ve been tempted by bigger Cold than that.’
I gave him a sceptical look.
‘Back towards the end of my Patch days,’ Abb said matter-of-factly, ‘I touched a Frost. Took off my digging gloves and picked it up with my bare hands.’
My eyes nearly bulged out of my head. ‘Wait, what?’
Abb gave me a nonchalant look. ‘I was working one day and I found a Frost. The Patches are huge and no one was around. Instead of immediately finding a taskmaster like I was supposed to, I undressed my hands and ran my fingers all over it. Big old thing. The size of my head. And unlike other Cold, it was cool to the touch. I’ll never forget the feeling.’
I didn’t understand if he was being serious or not. The Khat’s Gospels decreed that any Jadan who touched a Frost directly would bring upon himself his immediate death. Everyone knew it was one of the most forbidden things a Jadan could do. ‘How can you still be alive?’ I gasped.
Abb finished putting the deck back together, and got up and stretched his back out, letting loose a few severe cracks. ‘Ah, perhaps I am getting old.’
‘Don’t getting old me,’ I said, standing up too. I wasn’t as tall as my father, but I could still look him in the eye. ‘Answer my question.’
‘How would the Nobles know?’ Abb twisted back and forth, trying to loosen his spine. ‘And as for the Crier, he didn’t kill me, but he did do something rather drastic.’
I gave him a searching look. ‘What did he do?’
Abb went over to my tinker-wall and picked up the Cold Wrap off the middle shelf, placing it gently against my chest. ‘He gave me you as a son.’
I moved my feet up and pushed them down again, kneading the top of the dune.
My Rope Shoes were once again allowing me to walk the surface of the sand, proving to be one of the most effective of my creations. I rarely came out to the dunes, so the shoes never got much use, but when in action they always kept me from having to struggle along with my legs buried up to my knees. By spreading my weight over their thick metal frames, which I’d threaded with taut rope, I was able to glide across the crest of the dunes like the wind itself.
But just because I had the right equipment didn’t mean I had the nerve.
I looked over my shoulder, trying to keep calm. My barracks were only a few dunes away, yet I couldn’t have felt further from home.
Why did I feel the need to push my luck with the Crier? I peeked under my shirt. Such a simple thing, yet something so dangerous.
Abb had thought it was funny that I’d refused to try the Wrap inside. But I didn’t want to put him or the rest of our family in danger by drawing the Crier’s attention to the barracks. If I did this, I’d told him, I would do it alone, with no one else around. He had opened up the loose panel in response.
Now I was here, thin clouds of sand washing over my skin, preparing to fall out of the Crier’s grace. Taking a deep breath, I pulled my eyes towards the stars, searching for any comfort Sister Gale could offer.
I shouldn’t have rushed Abb through the Creation story, because he’d left out my favourite part. Sister Gale always deserved a mention. It only took me a few moments to pinpoint Her, as she was in full form, striking a bright pose in the sky.
There were a few versions of the Sister Gale story. Everyone accepted the feud between the Crier and Sun; but how Sister Gale fitted in was always up for debate. Mother Bev had told me the version I liked best, where Gale was the Peacemaker of the eternal family, coming each night to the empty battlefield left behind by Her Brothers, kissing away the wounds of Nobles and Jadans alike.
I closed my eyes and felt Sister Gale’s comforting breath washing away the heat from the sands.
It was time. The Crier had let me get this far, so I might as well go a bit further.
My fingers went to the crushing chamber, touching the tiny Wisp. I told myself over and over that Abb had survived touching a Frost. And the Upright Girl had destroyed a Shiver. If they were alive, then crushing something as small as a Wisp shouldn’t earn the Crier’s wrath.
I hoped.
My heart began to pound. I reached under my shirt and plucked hesitantly at the waxy fabric.
I knew I was just stalling.
I looked up to Sister Gale, Her stars winking impatiently at me. She knew I was just stalling, too.
Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes tightly, said my apologies to the Crier, and then twisted the Wisp until I heard a small crack. The Cold gave way, and the crushing chamber went cold against my chest.
A pleasant tingle slipped around my chest, clouding my skin with delight. The cool air filtered in from the chamber exactly as I’d hoped, and the feeling was unbelievable. Even better than I could have hoped for. I forgot the pain of my burned cheek, and the thirst in my soul, everything replaced with pure Cold. My lips begged to turn up at the edges, but I didn’t dare show any joy.
I paused, waiting for claws to pop out of the sands to drag me under. Or for a giant piece of Cold to soar down, straight at my head, knocking the life out of my skull.
But nothing happened, except an ecstatic deepening of the Cold.
I couldn’t believe it, but the Wrap was a success. My smile broke free, and in that moment, it was almost as if the sands were parting at my feet and revealing my future.
I was an Inventor.
I gave another hard twist, and the rest of the Wisp cracked. The Cold was now rapturous, flooding my body with deep tingles. I drank Wisps in water every day, but this felt different; this felt unhinged, and ancient. And a part of me never wanted it to end.
And then my skin realized it wasn’t used to the temperature, and began arguing against the change. I tried to calm myself with deep breaths so I might continue to enjoy the moment, but the stitches on the fabric were straining tight. The cool air was filling up faster than I’d expected, too concentrated, burning my skin with a new sort of fire. My lungs strained as the waxy layers continued to tighten, the prison of Cold constricting my breath.
I managed to wriggle free from my shirt, but as much as I clawed and prised, the Wrap wouldn’t come off. I tried to breathe, but the pressure was becoming too much, my body unable to break from its hold.
I knew this couldn’t possibly all be coming from a single Wisp, and dread filled my entire body.
The Crier was angry, and he was going to kill me with my own invention.
Only then did I understand that I should have built some sort of proper release. Abb had taught me to sew too well. I flipped open the cap to the chamber, trying to let the Cold have an escape that way, but I’d installed a one-way flap inside to protect against just that.
My fingernails only slid helplessly across the waxy fabric as I struggled to breathe.
I was about to drop to my knees and beg the Crier for forgiveness, when I heard a sound from behind me, a soft padding through the sands.
The Crier had finally sent His spirits to whisk me away.
I spun around, but I was met by a Jadan face.
I would have cried out, had I had any air left to give.
The Upright Girl struggled towards me over the dunes, usi
ng her hands to keep her balance. Her back was still rod straight, but she looked more like the rest of us as she scrambled to reach me, her ankles struggling against the sand.
When she finally came over to me, she dug a hand into her braided hair and pulled out a thin metal blade, half of it wrapped in boilweed for a makeshift handle.
I squeezed in another thin breath as she stabbed.
At the last moment, her hand shot sideways, the tip of the blade slicing across the belly of the Wrap. The material made a popping sound, and Cold air spilled through the slit as fast as it could. The girl’s ruffled braid blew back, revealing an impressed look on her face.
I gasped heavily. The Cold had bitten my skin, and I knew I’d have something of a rash – but the Crier had let me live.
The girl sheathed the knife back in her locks and stepped close, so much so that I flinched, not expecting the proximity. Without a word, she reached for the fabric at my chest, but I couldn’t feel her touch, as my skin had gone numb.
She tested her fingers gently on her cheek. ‘Wisp?’
I nodded, still trying to catch my breath.
‘Where’d you steal it?’ she asked, as if two Jadans meeting on top of a sand dune in the middle of the night – one of them wearing Cold – was completely normal.
‘Give me a second,’ I said, expelling what was left of the chilled air in my lungs, my heart settling to a reasonable pace. My body was tingling from the experience, not used to something so opposite from the Sun.
The Upright Girl watched me recuperate, keeping quiet. She was half a head shorter than me, but only because I had the advantage of the Rope Shoes. The starlight trickling onto her face showed hazel eyes, bright and defiant.
Something was very different about her. And it wasn’t just her rigid posture. She didn’t have the sallow complexion so many of us had, nor the hunger-sunken, ashen cheeks. Her skin was dark like mine, but its texture was smooth, almost glowing. She looked … alive.
She crossed her arms over her chest, her intense gaze boring into mine. ‘You had a Wisp in there. So why didn’t you take that Shiver?’ she asked. ‘From the rubbish pile.’
My chest heaved up and down. ‘That’s your first question?’
‘It’s what I want to know. Unless there are other things you want to talk about …’ And then she smiled.
It wasn’t the same beautiful way a Noble girl might smile, all dolled up with red gloss and teeth clean of food.
It was the smile of someone who knew more than I did.
I was enamoured, and couldn’t think of what to say.
From the way my father talked of past loves, or even the way Joon bragged over evening rations, I’d have thought being entranced by a girl would be pleasant, but my brain was completely frazzled by Cold, and my body was too distracted with awkward squirming to appreciate the moment. In fact, I don’t remember ever feeling so uncomfortable.
‘First time you’ve been alone with a girl?’ she asked with a straight face.
I blushed. ‘No, I— I mean. It’s just—’
She shrugged. ‘What is that thing?’ Around your chest.’
‘It’s called a Cold Wrap,’ I said, wishing suddenly that I could be anywhere else. ‘And thanks for cutting me loose.’
I was glad her eyes stayed up at my face as she asked: ‘What are you called?’
I hesitated for a moment’s pause, deciding on which name to give. ‘Micah.’
Instead of introducing herself, she pointed to my torn invention. ‘Is it because a Shiver’s too big?’
‘Sorry?’
‘You left that Shiver in the boilweed.’ She spiralled a finger towards the Cold chamber. ‘Because it’s too big to fit in the chamber thing?’
‘Wait, one second. What are you even doing out here?’
She shrugged. ‘I live out here. You’re not very good at answering my questions.’
I first thought I’d misheard her. ‘You live in the sands?’
A flash of amusement passed through her eyes. ‘No one lives in the sands. They would die. What was that pole you were using the other night? I’ve never seen one before.’
‘Claw Staff,’ I replied, trying to keep my voice down.
‘Claw Staff?’ she echoed. ‘You named it Claw Staff? Couldn’t you think of anything better? You must have had other options.’
My face went sour. ‘What’s wrong with Claw Staff?’
She smirked. ‘Nothing.’
I thought my blush might burn the skin off my cheeks.
She gestured to my barracks. ‘You sneak out more than most Jadans, don’t you. I’ve seen you. What do you do with all that rubbish you steal?’
‘It’s not rubbish,’ I said, indignation flooding my chest.
She gave a wry smile, clearly enjoying seeing me rise to the bait. Then she pointed to my feet. ‘Where’d you steal those?’
‘I didn’t steal them. I made them.’ I looked down at the Rope Shoes, finally feeling steady enough to speak. ‘From my “rubbish”.’
‘Ah. So you make things,’ she said, as if it was something she’d been mulling over for some time. ‘I like that. Stand on the sand. Use something besides your hands to dig through the rubbish. Crush the Cold and keep it close, like a Bellows for your body. You have good ideas.’
‘Wait. My turn to ask,’ I said, trying to be as firm as she was; although I couldn’t believe she’d distilled all my inventions so succinctly, considering those were exactly my thought processes in their creation. ‘Why did you throw that Shiver on the street? That could have got you killed.’
She tapped a finger against her lip. ‘You mean like how we can get killed for stepping into the wrong alley. Or for walking the wrong way. Or for buying a Noblewoman a pink fan instead of a red one?’
I raised my eyebrows. ‘Do you make a habit of following people?’
‘You’re easy to follow,’ she said matter-of-factly, walking her fingers through the air. ‘Some people are very slow.’
She struck a nerve. ‘No I’m not. And why are you following me?’
‘No particular reason.’ She shrugged, but I noticed that she wasn’t looking at my face. ‘I get bored sometimes.’
‘What’s your name?’ I asked.
‘Shilah.’
I extended a hand. ‘Micah.’
She sniggered. ‘I know. You told me.’
I ignored her. ‘All of Paphos is looking for you. Everyone’s angry at what you did.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘I know that, too.’
‘You got my Jadanmaster fired,’ I said.
A dark look found her eyes. ‘All Jadanmasters should be fired.’
‘So why did you do it?’ I asked, not understanding how such a system would work. ‘You must have known if the taskmasters couldn’t find you they’d just take it out on other Jadans.’
She didn’t hesitate, her words taking on a harsh edge. ‘Because Shivers are supposed to fall for Jadans too. So I made it happen. And it was beautiful. You felt how beautiful it was.’
This was the strangest conversation I’d ever had. ‘But what about the Great Drought?’ I asked.
‘What about it?’ she replied, her voice resolute, hands going back over her chest. ‘You drink Cold every day. You just used a Wisp that you weren’t supposed to have. Are you dead? Did the Crier send a Draft from the sky to rip a hole through your chest?’
My cheeks grew hotter. ‘It was my first time using a stolen Wisp! And anyway, for a second I thought the Crier had sent you to kill me.’
Shilah gave a serious nod and then reached into her pocket, pulling out something and tossing it over to me.
I caught the small Khatmelon, with wide eyes. It was one of the most expensive fruits in the city, so expensive that even some Nobles couldn’t afford them. And this one was not yet ripe, as if it had just been plucked from a garden.
‘Eat it,’ she said. ‘Then tell me if the Crier wants you dead.’
I looked at her straigh
t in the eyes. ‘Where’d you steal this?’
‘What makes you think I stole it?’ As she crossed her arms over her chest, I noticed a dark stain peeking out from her sleeve.
She noticed me looking and yanked up the fabric, proudly showing me a tattoo that made my jaw drop even further. I had to squint against the dim light to make sure, but there, in black ink, the Opened Eye was stained into her skin.
‘I did it myself,’ she said proudly. ‘Don’t look so surprised,’ she added, catching the look on my face. She tapped the back of her neck at her barracks markings. ‘You have one too. Mine just happens to be a tattoo I wanted.’
I gave her an annoyed look. I had the suspicion she’d get along well with Abb. I pointed my finger at the design. ‘Fine. But that one goes against everything the Crier has commanded.’
She offered another knowing smile and then pulled at the uniform on her chest. I tried not to let my eyes linger on her, holding in a breath and conjuring thoughts of tinkering instead.
She raised her eyebrows, but thankfully she dismissed it, pointing instead at my feet. ‘Can I have those?’
I blinked, tilting my head with curiosity like Matty often did.
‘Please,’ she added.
I unstrapped my feet. I could always make another pair, I wasn’t likely to get my hands on another Khatmelon.
Shilah examined the shoes for a moment and then bound her feet inside, kneading the sand like I’d done. ‘Thanks, these will help.’
Then, with a smile, she turned and began sauntering back down the dune, her back straighter than ever. ‘And I think you meant it goes against what the Nobles have commanded, not the Crier,’ she shouted over her shoulder.
‘But they’re His chosen people,’ I called.
‘Come back out here in a few nights and I’ll find you,’ she said, walking down the slope. ‘Take some time to think things over. Your first Jadan Cold only happens once.’
My legs had already sunk up to my ankles as I watched her walk south, in the direction of the River Kiln. I couldn’t understand why she’d head that way, as there was nothing there except more dunes, and boiling water that couldn’t be crossed. ‘Do you want to come back to my barracks?’ I called after her, fearing she was walking off to an uncertain death. ‘My father would take you in. We have a private room!’
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