‘I don’t think so.’ She turned back, her long braid whipping around. ‘Please do try not to get yourself killed. I could use someone like you, Micah.’
‘What do you mean, like me?’
Even from a distance, her smile was like another wash of Cold against my chest.
‘Someone who makes things,’ she replied. ‘An Inventor.’
Chapter Ten
Two nights later, the Khatmelon had become perfectly ripe.
High Nobles expected their Jadans to know how to tell good fruit from bad, even the rarest kinds. The Khatmelon now had a hollow sound when I struck my knuckles on the rind, and its colour was a startling green.
I could have eaten the fruit at any point and been immensely pleased – even the toughest, starchiest melon would still have been a divine change from our ration of figs – but I wanted the surprise to be that much more perfect when revealed.
My lips curled into a smile without breaking any blisters. Gramble had been taking pity on me since Thoth had begun his crusade to dry me out, filling up my water rations extra high whenever he could. My head was still constantly light, but living was now at least bearable. I made sure to clean my forehead of any sweat before reaching my corner, so Thoth had no reason to take away my rations altogether.
But that wasn’t the only reason behind my smile.
Shilah still hadn’t been caught.
Thoth and the rest of the taskmasters stalked Arch Road like sand-vipers, snapping and thrashing at the smallest mistakes; but that only made things clearer.
For the first time, I was witnessing the Nobles struggle to retain their control over us. A Jadan had done something despicable, something so unholy that the Crier should have snuffed her out on the spot, yet she had gone unpunished.
The sound of snapping fingers came from the other side of Abb’s boilweed door, and I hopped up from my blanket, stowing the Khatmelon in my pocket.
‘You don’t have to announce yourselves,’ I said to my friends as I let them in. ‘I think we’re past that.’
Moussa ran his hands over Matty’s scruffy hair. ‘Shorty insisted.’
Matty huffed. ‘I’m not that short.’
I waved them in and ushered them over to my blanket. ‘Sit, sit.’
‘Abb said you had something to show us,’ Matty said, eagerness apparent in his eyes. He had a fresh bruise on his arm. All of Paphos had been on edge since the incident at the Procession, including the Jadans.
My heart started beating with anticipation. ‘I do.’
Matty’s eyes shot to my tinker-wall, scanning the shelves and piles. After a moment, his face dropped. ‘Did’ja lose the Rope Shoes?’
‘Sometimes I think you know my stuff better than I do. Forget about the Shoes.’ I took the Opened Eye carving from the top of the wood pile, and then found a thick beam of starlight to use for illumination. ‘This is more important.’
‘Oh, I seen that,’ Matty said, eyes lighting up. ‘Prolly. Once in the Garden Quarter.’
Moussa nodded. ‘Me too. In the Bathing Quarter. Do you know what it is, Micah?’
I sat with them on the blanket, a smile breaking free across my whole face. ‘It’s called the Opened Eye. But I also have something else, something even better.’ I licked my bottom lip, savouring the moment. Putting the carving down by my side, I pulled out the Khatmelon, bouncing it up and down in my hands.
‘You found that in the boilweed?’ Matty asked, astonished. His hands went out, but he snatched them back, a guilty look in his eyes.
I shook my head, knocking the rind so they might hear the hollow sound. ‘I found it in the hands of a girl.’
Matty’s head tilted so far I thought it might topple off his neck.
My smile grew. ‘The most wanted girl in Paphos, I might say.’
‘The Upright Boilweed Girl?’ Matty’s jaw dropped. ‘Did’ja talk to her?’
Moussa’s face darkened. ‘Micah, you know better …’
‘Can she make herself avisible?’ Matty asked.
‘You mean invincible?’
‘No.’ Matty slapped his hands over his eyes. ‘Avisible.’
‘Oh, invisible.’ I chuckled, handing over the melon. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Matty, when have you ever seen a Jadan make themselves invisible?’ Moussa asked with an amused shake of his head.
Matty shrugged. ‘She got away from the Vicaress. Maybe she can.’
‘Plus,’ I said with a shrug, winking at Matty, ‘you can’t actually see someone who’s invisible.’
Moussa shook his head again, but a grin lifted his cheeks. ‘You shouldn’t encourage him.’
I got up again and grabbed my sharpest blade. ‘Anyway,’ I sliced into the fruit and let the scent carry through my whole head. ‘She had the Opened Eye tattooed on her arm, and she set off into the dunes after we spoke. I have a feeling she knows some secret the rest of us don’t.’
Moussa’s disappointment thickened his voice, and when he spoke, it was almost a growl. ‘That’s impossible. Nothing exists beyond those dunes.’ He held his piece of melon away from his body as if it might turn around and bite him. ‘I’m serious, Micah, this is dangerous. The taskmasters are working double shifts to try to find her. You shouldn’t get caught up in her lies—’
I didn’t want to listen to him. My heart swelled at the scent of the melon, hope pushing away all the hunger and thirst and pain. I took a bite of my own piece, and it tasted like freedom.
‘Moussa, please, let’s just enjoy this.’ I began singing between bites. ‘The Jadan’s work upon the sands. Come on, Moussa,’ I said, now standing on top of my sleeping blanket. ‘The “Jadan’s Anthem”. You wrote this. Sing with me!’
‘The thing is, I don’t want to make the Crier angry,’ Moussa said, in an almost pained voice.
‘The Upright Girl is still alive,’ I said, licking my palm. ‘I’m still alive. Abb touched a Frost and he’s still alive. You’ve sung it before, and you’re still alive. If the Crier didn’t want us to share this melon, he wouldn’t have let it get this far.’
Moussa observed us, our chins dribbling red juice. A fearful look passed through his eyes.
‘The Gospels don’t say we can’t eat melon,’ I said.
Moussa sighed and took a small bite of the rind. He swallowed, and couldn’t hide the joy the taste brought to his lips. He began to mumble: ‘So maybe the World Crier …’
I held a hand against my ear. ‘I can’t hear you.’
Matty’s grin was full of melon. ‘Yeah, Moussa. We can’t hear you!’
Moussa took another bite, sucking up all the juice, and sang louder. ‘So maybe the World Crier, might release their han—’
The chimes rang out.
Our faces turned towards the door as one. It was past rations time, and there was no reason for Gramble to be calling everyone together to the main chamber.
Moussa spat out the pulp, scratching at his tongue. Matty quickly wiped down his chin with a handful of the boilweed door.
‘Relax, both of you,’ I said, putting my melon down on the blanket. ‘It must be Old Man Gum messing with the wires again.’
The chimes kept ringing, however, strong and heavy, and together we stumbled into the hallway heading towards the main chamber. Worried murmurs swept towards us, whispers brushing along the walls, and the closer we got to the chamber, the bigger the sense of dread filling my stomach became.
When we reached the room, dozens were milling about, outside of their divisions. No one seemed to know what was going on, and we stared at the chimes, worried conversation hissing in the air.
Old Man Gum stood very still in the centre of the room, waving two knuckles at the chimes. I thought I could hear him saying ‘In the ground,’ over and over.
Abb clapped his hands and called out: ‘Lines! Everyone, lines.’
No one stopped to question him as we stepped into our normal spots, trying to keep order in the near dark. Matty kept close behind
me as we swept into position, holding a hand on my back as if to make sure I was still there.
By the time the chimes stopped ringing, we were mostly organized, and Gramble’s key sounded in the door. Each scrape of the metal sent a wave of dread into my stomach.
The doors swung open and every body went stiff.
It wasn’t news that our Barracksmaster was bringing.
Inside swept a figure wrapped in tight black silk, a fiery blade in her hand. The circle of flames lit up blue and merciless eyes. In the half-light I could make out petrified faces, and our shadows trembled on the walls.
I felt Matty’s fingers tremble, pressing harder against my skin.
Gramble did a long count, his voice breaking as he spoke. ‘Twenty-one Patch, forty-eight Street, thirty-nine Builder, and thirty-six Domestic. They’re all here, Highness.’ Times were rare, if ever, when I’d seen Gramble afraid, but from the look on his face, he might have been thrust in one of the Jadan lines himself.
A sourness began rising in my throat, replacing the sweet taste of melon. The Vicaress prowling the street was one thing, but to find her here in the barracks was unheard of.
‘Barracks forty-five,’ she said, her voice a storm and whisper at the same time, ‘one of your own has betrayed you, and the Crier is displeased. He is looking for her, through me.’
Gramble kept his eyes averted from the flames. I thought for a moment he was staring at me, but I couldn’t tell from my position in the Street line.
‘With the help of dark forces, this girl has eluded the Crier’s vision,’ the Vicaress intoned, her voice calm and collected. ‘I am to be His ears.’
Gramble’s voice rose. ‘Everyone remain calm. The Vicaress is here to look for the betrayer. Follow her orders and everyone will be fine.’
The Vicaress turned slowly towards our Barracksmaster, her lips thin. ‘The Crier does not require you to talk.’
He nodded, bowing his head down low.
‘You are all aware of the blasphemy that happened during the Procession, so I shall make this simple,’ the Vicaress said. ‘Our Lord and Creator had been blinded in this, so He needs to hear the demon’s voice. Women in this barracks. When I point the holy blade at you, you will say “worthy” and nothing else. You shall say it loud and clear, and I will consider any faltering a sign that you have something to hide. This needs to be nothing other than simple. Most of you obey the Gospels, and have no reason to draw upon His wrath.’
Matty tugged at my shirt, and I reached back, steadying my fingers over the birthmark on his wrist. Moussa’s back heaved up and down in front of me. I wanted to tell them both that we would be fine, that the Vicaress wasn’t here because of the melon, that she was only looking for Shilah. This was just a coincidence. All we had to do was obey, and the Vicaress would move on to barracks forty-six without incident.
The Vicaress finally broke her stance, moving smoothly past the line of Patch Jadans, but she stopped towards the end, a curious look on her face when she came alongside Liran. She bent down and prodded his thigh with the handle of the blade, twitching her lips as if she was dissatisfied. Liran managed to stay still under her scrutiny, which was more than I could have done.
Standing up straight, the Vicaress intoned over to Gramble: ‘I’ve just got word. The Crier wishes this Jadan to have two extra figs per ration. Your Patch Jadans should be thick enough to withstand the demanding work.’
Gramble gave a relieved nod. ‘Absolutely, Highness.’
Her shiny lips thinned. ‘I thought I told you, you need not speak. One more outburst and I’ll consider it a sign that you’re trying to hide something.’
Gramble’s face turned to stone.
The Vicaress moved over to the Builders. Only four women were physically adequate to remain in that line – those women who couldn’t cut it as Builders after ageing out of the Street Jadans got sent to the Glasslands – and the Vicaress stopped at Zipporah. Zip had arms that could keep up with any of the men, but she was easily flustered. As soon as the flames came within spitting distance, one side of her face began twitching.
The Vicaress pointed her blade down at Zip’s chest.
Zip hiccuped and then shouted: ‘Unworthy!’
The blade sizzled as it slipped into Zip’s shoulder, nearly causing her to topple over in pain.
‘Worthy,’ the Vicaress said calmly, shaking the blade an inch deeper. ‘The Crier needs you to say “worthy”. Let’s try again.’
Tears welled in Zip’s eyes.
The Vicaress licked her lips, smearing the black gloss. ‘The Crier doesn’t approve of Jadan tears. They are waste. Hold them back and speak.’
‘Worthy,’ Zip shouted, her voice shattering at the end.
The Vicaress closed her eyes and nodded. ‘That wasn’t so hard.’ She moved on to the other women Builders, everyone else thankfully getting the word right. Since none of them had Shilah’s voice, they were safe.
The Vicaress headed for the Domestics. She moved with a confident gait, her eyes blazing with purpose. The fiery dagger was kept high, the flame’s light licking the line of women.
Suddenly, Old Man Gum hopped out of his line and jumped in front of the Vicaress, pointing a gnarled finger at her. ‘The Khat tried to send Him away! They put it in the ground!’
The Vicaress fumbled her grip, the flames around her blade dancing wildly. Her eyes opened wider, which was the most I’d ever seen her lose her composure, even more so than at the Procession. Without warning, she kicked out with her heel and cracked Gum’s leg sideways. Gum crashed to the ground, his head slamming against the hard-packed dirt, and didn’t let out so much as a yelp. Once on his side, she pressed the flat of her blade against the protruding bone of his knee, sealing all the loose flesh.
Yet he didn’t cry out.
‘Women only,’ the Vicaress said, stepping over Gum. She readied the knife to thrust into the old man’s heart, but her expression grew calculated and she refrained, standing up straight instead. ‘The Crier has judged.’
Moussa was breathing so hard I thought he might faint.
The Vicaress moved on as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, stopping beside the first girl in the line of Domestics. Dani’s face managed to stay strong against the heat of the blade.
‘Worthy,’ Dani said, her voice overly firm, almost to the point of insolence.
Deciding the tone was fair, the Vicaress lowered the blade, taking a single step to the right and aiming the point instead at Jardin’s heart.
‘Worthy!’ Jardin shouted, her hands shaking.
The Vicaress closed her eyes, picking the sound apart for clues. She continued down the line, coaxing out the shouts from each Domestic. The blade remained in the air, each body it left unharmed brought me the smallest relief.
The Vicaress would finish her hunt and leave. Everything would be okay. I’d give Zip the rest of my salve, and by tomorrow, she’d barely even feel the sting. And I’d take some metal rods and bearings and I would build a support that Gum could wear around his knee.
Everything would be okay.
Slowly, as the Vicaress made her way through the lines of women, my pulse began to relax. ‘Worthy’ had been shouted dozens of times now.
I wiped my sleeve quickly across my forehead while she wasn’t looking, removing any sweat.
At last the Vicaress had heard every Domestic voice in the barracks and she slowly sauntered back to the front of the Street line. When she turned to look over our line, the blue in her eyes glittered like gemstones in the light of her dagger. I hated myself for finding her beautiful.
Our line, the Street Jadans, had most of the youngest girls, and I prayed that this would all be over quickly. The Vicaress pointed her blade at the girls’ hearts one by one, skipping over the boys.
‘Worthy,’ Rachiel called.
‘Worthy,’ Jakie shouted.
‘Worthy,’ Hanna managed to get out.
As the Vicaress passed Moussa, I held my breath
, and tipped my eyes down. Matty’s fingers wiggled out of my grip, and I could tell he was doing the same.
An old tale said that the Vicaress could read Jadan minds. A simple meeting of eyes, and she would know the secrets of your heart. I’d dismissed the idea then, but it came back to me now. I smelled the flames as they swept next to me. My heart thundered loudly. Heat grasped at my face, and the blade hovered beside my ear for a moment. My knees threatened to drop me, knowing she could sense my secrets – but she moved on, satisfied that I had nothing to give.
And then, all of a sudden, the black silk stopped rustling.
‘Who’s this?’ the Vicaress said, amusement in her voice. She snapped her fingers calmly. ‘Barracksmaster.’
I heard Gramble waddle down the row, and my heart tried to stop.
‘Who is this?’ the Vicaress repeated sweetly.
‘That’s Matthew,’ Gramble said carefully. ‘We call him Matty.’
My legs started to wobble at the realization. Matty. Matty didn’t know Shilah. It was me who’d used the Wisp. I was just about to speak up, when—
‘Barracksmaster,’ the Vicaress said, almost like a song, ‘how old is this boy?’
Gramble thought about it for a moment. ‘Ten. He’s pretty fresh from the Priests.’
The silence was thick in the room.
‘But he’s a good Street Jadan,’ Gramble said, his voice not so confident. ‘He—’
The shadows shifted, the blade having shifted too. ‘That’s enough, Barracksmaster. I didn’t ask. Good or not, this boy is too small for ten. Sun must have tampered with his development and I’m afraid that the Crier can’t trust the results.’
I felt the sand at the back of my feet slowly grow wet. Nobody spoke.
‘I’ll have a proper replacement sent in the morning.’ The Vicaress’s voice turned caressing. ‘The Crier wants you back, boy. He’ll fix you, He’ll get you ready for service in the afterlife.’
Matty spun slowly, holding out his ‘calm spot’ to me. His hand trembled with fear as he bent his wrist back as far as it could go.
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