I swallowed, trying to steady my resolve. I knew what he was trying to do, but it was useless. The Crier had made it very clear that I’d crossed the line.
‘And do you know the reason they were killed, Micah? Not from Sunstroke. Or thirst.’ Abb met my eyes, his gaze blazing even in the dim light.
I felt my face grow even warmer under his gaze. ‘Because it was their time.’
‘It was because the taskmasters in the Monument Quarter got bored. It’s high up, it’s hot, and it’s monotonous work keeping the Jadans in line. We’re an obedient bunch, and there is not much for them to do.’ Abb shrugged, speaking as calmly as if he were discussing the procedure to mix clay. ‘So, every once in a while, they decide they deserve to have a little fun; but they’ve been whipping us and berating us their whole lives. The usual tricks don’t get their juices flowing any more.’ He gathered some moisture in his mouth and spat on the ground. ‘Glory be to the Khat.’
My eyes widened with shock, but he kept going.
‘So the taskmasters have a game.’ Abb’s gaze dropped. He went to work putting the finishing touches on the salve, smoothing it out with his fingers barely touching the skin. ‘They call it Obey.’ He was still calm, but he practically spat the word. ‘Every couple of days, they’ll find a Jadan who maybe coughed after inhaling some powdered mortar, or someone who accidently fell to a knee while carrying his load.’ His eyes flicked to my forehead with a pointed look. ‘Or maybe someone who was sweating too much. For justification.’ Abb voice was matter-of-fact, but his words were smouldering at their core. ‘And that Jadan will be taken to an empty chamber in the Pyramid with nothing inside it except a Closed Eye nailed to the wall. And then the taskmasters will test the boundaries of their power. They’ll command something, anything, just to see what we might obey. How far we might be prepared to go. And we’re unworthy Jadans, so what choice do we have, right? It’s the Crier’s will. And if we refuse, we get tossed off the Pyramid.’
He cleared his throat, emotion in his voice. ‘That’s the seven.’
I paused, letting the idea wash over me. I’d never heard the Builders discuss such a thing before, and as despicable as it sounded, I knew there was no point arguing. The Nobles were chosen, and we were not.
‘Maybe the Jadans that get picked for Obey did something to upset the Crier. And it’s a justified punishment.’
‘Justified.’ Abb’s face dropped, pain in his voice. ‘You think the Crier has kept us alive all these years just to decide our fate in this way? By seeing if we are willing to drink spoiled ale until we vomit? Or to see how high we’ll fill up a waterskin with blood? Or what we might do to our bodies, with glass and with rods, and fire, while the chosen sit back and laugh?’
I felt my face stiffen with shame. I wished he would now let me suffer in peace. ‘The Nobles are our betters. We have to listen for a reason.’
Abb nodded slowly, rubbing his slimy fingers around the rim of the bottle to try to save the excess salve. Then he went to my tinker-wall and blew the sand off the top shelf. ‘You’re a special kid, but you’re still a kid, Micah. You have to trust me when I tell you Matty was killed because the Nobles are scared. Power is a fragile thing, and what happened at the Procession was a crack in their chains.’ Abb placed a hand on my cheek. ‘You can’t give up on what you want, son. The Vicaress didn’t kill your friend because of the Cold Wrap. Or because of a little Khatmelon.’
‘You don’t know that,’ I fired back, the memory burning my tongue. ‘You can’t know that.’
‘I can’t, can’t I?’ Abb’s eyes narrowed. ‘So tell me, if you’re such a disappointment to the Crier, then why is the girl who destroyed a Shiver still out there? You think the Crier can single you out for using a Wisp, but can’t find a girl who did that?’
He had something of a point, but I couldn’t stop thinking that Matty’s blood was on my hands. Hands that would never again tinker. Hands that should only serve the Nobles, and pick Cold from the Patches, and carry stone.
‘The Vicaress said dark forces are hiding Shilah,’ I countered. ‘And if I could, I’d turn her over just to make sure no other innocent Jadans die.’
‘Dark forces,’ Abb scoffed, reaching for the handle of one of the few crank-fans I’d saved, giving it a whirr. Then he turned back, his voice like iron. ‘Why are you alive, Little Builder?’
‘I’m alive …’ I let my head sag, my chest a dark pit. ‘Because …’
Abb slammed a fist on top of the tinker-wall, the shelf buckling. ‘Why are you alive?’
I stiffened, not expecting such a reaction. I replied with a voice so severe I wondered if it might shake the entire barracks. The emptiness inside me was all-consuming, chained around my neck and pulling me down. ‘So I can suffer! So I can feel all of this darkness! So I’ll obey too!’
Abb nodded, as if he had been expecting that. He grabbed the nearest bucket, dumping out the last of my metal scraps. Then he swept across the room and jarred open the loose panel. His eyes were so full of love that I wanted to scream again.
‘I’m going to show you a secret, son,’ he said, taking a deep breath. ‘It’s out there, deep in the sands behind our barracks. And it’s been around since even before the Great Drought. You want to know why the Nobles hold up a Closed Eye when they call us unworthy? Here’s your chance.’
I was stunned. The southern sands were just dead land, and there was nothing out there except dunes and eventually the rocky banks of the River Kiln. ‘What are you talking about?’
Abb tapped his foot impatiently. ‘I’ll show you. I’m going to take you there. It’s hard to see, but I think you’re finally old enough to know the truth.’
‘We can’t go outside at night,’ I said, although he’d struck my curiosity. ‘Gramble—’
‘We can, and we will.’ His eyes finally hardened. ‘Don’t you want to learn the truth?’
‘I—’
Abb grabbed me hard by the wrist and pushed me through the panel. I tried to wriggle out of his grip, but it was like a breath trying to resist the wind. He pulled me to my feet and brushed the sand off the sticky patches of salve on my arm. Outside, I tried not to look at the rubble that had once been my beloved inventions. Metal edges from my smashed Teleglass glinted in the starlight, and tiny gears from what was once my Sand Sifter peeked out of the shallow hills of sand. Dozens of my designs, crudely disassembled, each shred of debris reminding me of what I’d lost.
Abb smiled and put a consoling hand on my arm. ‘Have I not been a good father?’
I couldn’t lie. ‘You have been.’
‘And so you trust me?’
I paused, thinking about his bare hands touching the Frost. ‘For the most part.’
‘I’ll take that.’ He shoved the bucket against my chest. ‘Now fill this with sand.’
I lifted an eyebrow, but Abb just stabbed his hand at the nearest dune.
‘If you want to see the truth, you need to fill this with sand,’ he said.
I sighed, dropping to my knees and scooping a handful. My fingers struck something solid and I tried not to think of what invention it might have come from. I continued, and soon the bucket was full. My limbs were still shaky from being so exposed.
‘All the way,’ Abb ordered, his voice suddenly hard as iron.
I stuffed the bucket, patting the top smooth. My father had never spoken so harshly to me before.
‘Okay.’ Abb started walking South, the thin patch of dirt behind our home quickly swallowed up by the dunes. ‘Follow me. And don’t drop the bucket. It’s very important that you don’t drop the bucket.’
‘Why? What are you taking me to see? There’s nothing out here.’
‘I told you. The truth,’ Abb said simply, continuing to stride out into the sands. ‘Don’t drop the bucket.’
I got to my feet, the bucket already heavy in my arms, and followed him. My legs buried themselves deep with each step, the burden weighing me down. I had no idea why I’d
need to carry a supply of sand, when there was an infinity of buckets’-worth in every direction; but I listened.
We trudged into the dunes, neither of us speaking. I felt my forehead grow wet with effort, my aching muscles shaking. Thankfully the salve was helping to keep the sharpest pain bearable, but still my legs shook. My eyes scanned the surface of the dunes for any prints from my Rope Shoes, but of course there was nothing. Shilah couldn’t secretly survive out here, it would be impossible.
Abb reached the top of the next dune and looked back. His face was hard and his eyes narrow, but he didn’t say anything as he carried on.
My breathing speeded up as I struggled down the slope, and I was unable to fill my lungs fully. I shifted the bucket, trying to find the best way to carry it, but nothing relieved the burning in my arms.
‘Keep up!’ Abb kept walking, cresting another dune, and if anything, picking up the pace. ‘We have a long way to go yet!’
I snarled, feeling my throat beg for relief. My heel struck something solid on the rise of the next hill, and I wondered if it was a stone, or the skull of the last Jadan stupid enough to wander these dunes. The bucket quickly became more than cumbersome, and I had to double my effort. The gentle wind was no longer enough to keep the sweat from my face, the beads dripping into my eyes.
I made it to the top of the next dune, high enough for me to see the rolling whitecaps of the boiling River Kiln in the distance. Abb was waiting for me there, eyes fixed on the stars, something off about his face. It took me a moment to pinpoint what bothered me, but I realized it was because for the first time in my life, I was seeing him cry. ‘What do Jadans need?’ he asked in a soft voice, fingers at the corners of his eyes. He gathered the water and then held it up to the sky, almost as if proving the tears were real.
I shifted the bucket, trying to rest it on top of my knees.
Abb’s eyes shot down, his voice nearly cracking with emotion. ‘Don’t drop that.’
‘I won’t,’ I said.
‘What do Jadans need?’ he asked again through clenched teeth.
I tried to catch my breath, but Abb turned and stormed down the dune, marching as if the taskmasters were at his back with their whips flying. I gave a deep sigh and then hurried after him, my chest heaving.
We met on top of the next dune. My forehead was now dripping, and my lungs felt weak from all the Droughtweed I’d been forcing down my lungs.
‘Where’ – I sucked in a heavy breath, almost a wheeze – ‘are we going?’
‘What do Jadans need?’
‘Why are you asking’ – my words faltered, lacking the air to push them out – ‘me that?’ My mind was as blank as when Thoth had asked me about rule sixteen. I had no idea what he could possibly want from me, and the bucket was getting heavier by the second.
Abb’s expression hardened again, and he turned, heading for the final dunes by the banks of the Kiln.
‘Wait!’ I called, but he didn’t slow.
I caught up with him on the last dune before the riverbank, and I felt as if my chest might explode. I looked out over the River Kiln, bubbling with anger, and at least felt satisfied in the knowledge that all that was out here were the un- crossable waters. Abb was mistaken; there was no ancient truth to be found.
‘The scorpion traps. The crank-fans. Star-slides. Rope Shoes. Fire-snuffers. All the things you made.’ His hands were fists. ‘You must know the answer. What do Jadans need?’
I couldn’t quite form words yet. The bucket slipped through my sweaty fingers. I was close to fainting, my head swimming in a haze of thirst. ‘I don’t know!’ I shouted, desperate to let go. Or to stop. Or to fall to my knees and give up completely. My bruises felt as if they had never been treated with the salve in the first place, each contusion hammering me with pain. ‘I don’t know what Jadans need!’
Instead of heading towards the waters, Abb turned left and started sweeping along the banks. I wanted to scream and hiss and spit. It was as if he wanted me to die out here. My body had been broken and depleted to begin with, and now every step was torture. I knew I probably didn’t have enough moisture in me to make it back.
‘Stop!’ I yelled.
He marched along the rocks, keeping up the pace.
‘Please! Abb!’ My body was hotter than a blacksmith’s fire. ‘I can’t do it any more!’
‘What do Jadans need!’ was the only reply.
‘I don’t Sun-damn know!’ The edges of my vision were creeping towards black as I stumbled onto the banks. Hot flecks from the Kiln were carried by the wind and pricked my cheeks with heat. ‘I don’t know!’
Abb suddenly stopped, turning around and marching back. For a moment I felt relieved, but then I saw the intensity in his eyes and I wondered if he was going to hit me.
‘Of course you know,’ Abb yelled. ‘You’ve always known. It’s why you tinker, it’s why you create!’
I could only concentrate on breathing, trying to keep my body from giving up altogether. The bucket was practically bucking in my arms, trying to get me to drop it to the ground. ‘What the hell is this about? There’s no secret out here! You’re going to kill me!’
‘You’re going to kill yourself,’ Abb snarled. ‘Why didn’t you drop the bucket?’
‘Because you told me not to!’
He stepped up and reached a hand into the bucket, grabbing a fistful of sand and tossing it over the banks to the sputtering waters. ‘The Khat’s Gospels.’
I struggled to suck down even a single breath.
He grabbed another handful of sand, his eyes wet with sorrow as he tossed it into the wind. ‘The lies of the Great Drought.’
Another handful. ‘The street rules.’
Another. ‘Quotas in the Patches.’
Abb snatched handful after handful of sand out of the bucket, calling out after each toss, his voice rising in volume.
‘The Closed Eye.
‘Droughtweed.
‘Lessons from the Priests.’
He was practically roaring now.
‘Curfew!
‘Taskmasters!
‘Jadanmasters!
‘High Nobility!
‘Errands!’
Now he was using two hands, the sand flying.
‘The Procession!
‘Barracks!
‘Rations!
‘Lashings!
‘Obey!
‘The Sun!’
At last he scraped the bottom of the bucket, pulling up the last of the sand. My arms cried out with joy.
Abb waved the final fistful of sand in front of my face and then let it sprinkle through his fingers slowly. ‘The Vicaress killed twenty-two Jadans the same night Matty died. Each one in their own barracks, for the same reasons such as being too small, or being too frail. You think the Vicaress never saw Matty on the streets before? Or Jadans his size? Why did she wait to kill him until that night? Because she needed to make a point! She needed to take back the power!’
The bucket was empty, and, although my chest felt as though I’d been poisoned, I wheezed deeply in relief, close to crying.
‘I don’t understand,’ I said.
Abb snatched the bucket away from me, setting it on the ground. ‘It’s how power works, Micah. It’s the reason behind everything. Do you know how much Cold falls in the Patches every day, how much has been harvested since the Great Drought? How many Frosts?’
I shook my head.
‘None of this life is necessary. The Khat has enough Cold in the Pyramid to rebuild fallen cities. Enough Frosts to make at least some of the world as it was. Yet it is not the Cold that he treasures. It’s the control.’ Abb kicked the bucket. ‘You trusted me, and I gave you a burden. That’s them, Micah. That’s how the Nobles win. They keep us docile and under their heels. They give us burden after burden so we won’t think. They lie to us and tell us it’s the Crier’s will, so we forget about ourselves and obey.’
I hunched over, acid from my stomach dribbling up to my
lips. My back felt as if I was being beaten all over again, and I had a suspicion that even with Sister Gale’s help, I might be too overheated to make it home to the barracks.
Abb came over and put a hand on my back.
‘I’m close to the edge,’ I said, drained of all energy. ‘You’ll have to carry me.’
‘Absolutely not,’ Abb said. ‘You need to drop the bucket.’
I pointed to the bucket resting on the ground and turned, my whole face on fire.
‘Not this bucket,’ Abb said, snatching the pail and then going to the banks of the Kiln, careful not to slip on the rocks. He kneeled down and scooped up some of the steaming water. As he walked back, the bucket swung at his side, spray sloshing over the rim, but he ignored the scalds.
He set the bucket down, and put a hand on my shoulder. ‘You’re different from the rest of us, Micah. You know that. I know that. And Nobles are going to try to break you for it. They are going to steal what’s precious to you, to distract you and to dissuade you. They can’t abide Jadans who think about what our people need. It was the reason your first father did what he did to you. The Crier didn’t give me you as a son. I took you as a son. I took you from a man who feared the change you represent. Drop the damned bucket, Micah. Think for yourself. I know what greatness you are capable of, and my hope is that one day soon you will know it as well. The Opened Eye is about proving our people are worthy of freedom. Maybe you’ll make a weapon. Maybe you’ll make an army. Maybe you’ll make something so beautiful that even the Khat will have to take notice and bow.’
‘I don’t understand what you’re getting at. I’m just a Jadan who can tinker a bit,’ I said, my breathing fast and thin. ‘I’m just a slave like everyone else. Trying to be different will just make the Crier angry.’
‘If that’s true, then stay. Don’t drop the bucket. Die out here. Jadans have no need for another broken soul.’ Abb’s mercy left his eyes as he plucked out a Draft from his pocket and held it up to the night sky. The Cold went into the bucket of steaming water, the bubbles immediately stopping as the water grew cool before my eyes.
‘I stole that Draft from a High Noble,’ Abb said as he began walking away, trudging back into the dunes. ‘If you think the Crier punished you for a Wisp, then He certainly wouldn’t want you to drink a stolen Draft. If you think Jadans are only supposed to suffer, then sit here and suffer. Let it all end.’
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