Coldmaker

by Daniel A. Cohen

  ‘I know a good shop on Canar Street,’ I said after a pause. ‘Sometimes they have dates that they dip in the chocolate.’

  Cam pulled out a secret bag of Cold and weighed it in his hand, giving me a mischievous smile. ‘We should have just enough.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  ‘I know you’re still angry with me.’ I set the board down in front of Moussa, stirring up a bit of sand off the common chamber floor. ‘But this isn’t about me, this is about Matty. We’re going to sit here and play the game, and wherever he is, maybe he’ll get a smile out of it. You don’t even have to talk. Just endure my presence.’

  Some of our family members looked over to us, smiling. The rift between Moussa and me was still a mystery to them – Moussa still hadn’t told anyone about his theories behind Matty’s death – and most of barracks forty-five was ready to see us be friends again.

  Conditions were worse than ever, a hundred backs desperately trying to heal before the next lash. The taskmasters had shown no signs of reining in their malice, making up new rules on the spot that might allow them to dish out discipline. They weren’t even looking for information any more. Shilah still hadn’t been caught, but the Nobles had stopped mentioning that fact. Instead, we were constantly told that any rebellion would be punished.

  Moussa looked cornered, but he didn’t dart off to the nearest boilweed division, like the last few times I’d tried to talk to him. He lowered his voice so it might be overlaid by the chatter in the room. ‘Listen, Micah. It’s not that I’m—’

  I folded into my legs, sitting across from him. ‘Of course it is. But Matty loved both of us, and I think he would want us to be friends.’

  Moussa’s teeth clenched at my words. ‘Matty would want to be alive,’ he spat at me.

  I swallowed hard, opening the lid to the little box of pieces. I’d carved notches into the board and the pieces themselves, so they wouldn’t shift around too much. I began to arrange the small chunks of marble, and little bits of tin, and jade dice around the swirls of colour that Matty had painted on himself. When I got to the small bird carving Matty had smuggled in, my fingers trembled too much, so I left it in the box.

  ‘I know,’ I said. ‘So let’s at least keep this part of him alive.’

  Moussa kept his eyes lowered, letting the silence stew. He was covered in fresh bruises, and one of his eyes was almost swollen shut. His hands were clenched as he stared at the empty boilweed division, which didn’t seem so empty at the moment, as the curtain was rustling. ‘Fine. But let’s play in the corner. And I’m not going to talk.’

  We moved away from everyone, Moussa not meeting my eyes as we sat back down. I explained the rules Matty and I had concocted so far, and Moussa just about cracked a smile when I mentioned that the small staff piece could only move backwards, unless you sang when you rolled the dice, then you could move forward.

  ‘That rule was for you,’ I said quickly. ‘He really cared for you.’

  Moussa didn’t say anything, but he stayed put, examining the staff piece he held in his hands until he gave a small laugh. ‘He prolly did.’

  I finally pulled out the metal feather that had spent so much time nestled behind Matt’s ear. ‘We need a rule for this, too.’

  Moussa visibly jolted at the sight. ‘You kept it?’

  ‘I took it off his body,’ I said. The memory made my eyes burn.

  Moussa finally broke, with the intensity of someone who has held back for too long. I wanted to go over and embrace him, but I feared that might send him fleeing.

  ‘We loved him,’ I said, a lump in my throat as I tried to remember the way Matty had so simply put it. ‘Not everything lasts as long as it should.’

  We stayed quiet for a moment, but it felt good to be in Moussa’s company again. I picked up the dice and cast them, still unsure of what the numbers would mean exactly. ‘On another note,’ I said, finally breaking the silence, ‘something really weird happened to me today.’ I decided my main game-piece would be the twisty bit of blue rubber Matty had deemed the River Jadan. ‘There was this High Nobleboy, right. A Tavor. And he had me help him with errands all day, but he didn’t make me actually do anything. He didn’t even want me to carry his bags.’

  Moussa gave a small shrug, brushing the last of his tears away. He picked a piece for himself and I could tell he was intrigued, so I pressed on. I rolled the dice again and moved my River onto the garden space. ‘He kept asking me things about myself. Almost as if he cared. Whether or not I like to paint things, or if I’d ever tried frollock cheese, or—’

  ‘You can’t talk to the girl any more,’ Moussa cut me off.

  I lifted my head up to him in curiosity, but I couldn’t meet his eyes. ‘Huh?’

  ‘The Boilweed Girl,’ he said. ‘The Upright Girl. Whatever. If you really want us to go back to how things were, you can’t talk to her any more.’

  I hadn’t wanted to bring her up, but the mention of Shilah had sparked something inside me. Since venturing out onto the dunes with Abb, I’d thought about trying to find her, but hadn’t worked up the nerve to walk back out into the sands and wander around for hours on end. Especially without any Rope Shoes. ‘Shilah?’

  Moussa’s face went dark. ‘You know her name?’

  A couple of people looked over to us, but I smiled back reassuringly. ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘But I haven’t talked to her since.’

  ‘You can’t.’ Moussa sniffed, a bit of dry blood trying to peek out of his nostril. ‘Here’s the thing. Maybe Matty’s death was just because he was small, and because the Vicaress was angry, but regardless of that, she tempted you against the Crier.’ He was clenching his fists again, his knuckles almost white with effort. ‘Now Zeti Gum’s dead too. And Paphos is like one big ache. She did that. She made everything worse for us.’

  I wanted to slam my fist down and argue that Paphos needed changing, that I didn’t want us to go back to how things were, but instead I took a big breath. Sending Moussa storming off wouldn’t help anything.

  I picked up the die and tossed it into his lap. ‘Okay. I understand. No more Shilah. But for now, can we just remember our friend?’

  Moussa’s chest heaved with a deep breath as he held up the dice. The smile took a long time to reach his eyes, but it came nonetheless. ‘Like the time he hopped on your back and called himself a Jadan shield?’

  I licked my lips, and smiled too. ‘Or the time he found those eggs and smuggled them back so he—’

  Moussa mimed a shake of his head, pretending to empty something from his ear into his palm. ‘Lizard brain! I gotsa a lizard brain, you guys!’

  I grinned, happy to have at least one of my friends back. I felt ready to move on now, to be myself again. The urge to tinker had even returned, a new Idea forming in the back of my mind. It was an impossible feat, completely unattainable, but an interesting thought nonetheless. I knew it might be possible to hone the Idea into something achievable, but to do so I would need to spend time mentally working through things, before my fingers went plundering. Immediate death was the new punishment if Jadans were found outside after curfew, but for some reason I was no longer scared to step into the unknown. The Crier had left me alive, after all.

  Moussa rolled the dice and looked over the board and all its pieces. ‘So how do you win?’

  I picked up the makeshift metal feather, brushing it through a beam of starlight spilling through the roof. ‘I don’t know. But I’m going to figure it out.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  I found Cam beside my corner before the Sun was even fully ablaze. He was the only Noble around, and was once again taking little sips out of a steaming mug, absorbed in a thin book, and squinting against the glare from its white pages.

  This was now my third day in a row of meeting with Cam, and I was starting to get worried. At this point, we’d gone on so many errands that I was running out of ways to avoid his scrutiny. I’d kept my answers clipped and vague, but Cam insisted on knowing every
thing about my past, apparently fascinated by the life of a Street Jadan. He showed no signs of stopping, either. I was wondering if his aspirations were to become a Jadanmaster, and I was his choicest method of study.

  ‘Morning, Spout,’ Cam said, perking up as I slipped out of the alleyway opposite. He pocketed the volume as I approached, so quickly that I didn’t have a chance to make out the design on the front. ‘How’s Abb?’

  ‘He’s usable,’ I said, hating the fact that I’d let slip any information about my father. Someone I cared for could always be used against me if Cam grew tired of being kind to me. ‘Thanks for asking.’

  Cam gave me a mischievous grin, tapping the side of his head. ‘And Moussa?’

  ‘Usable,’ I said. ‘Thank you.’

  Cam gave me a playful nudge as I hopped onto my corner, almost throwing me off balance. ‘Don’t be so glum. Are you ready for today? There’s plenty to be excited about.’

  I nodded, falling into my slave stance. The naïve side of me wondered if I might use my new obsessive High Noble to explore my Idea, subtly picking his brain about materials that were only available to the rich and powerful, but I knew I shouldn’t allow myself to trust his kind.

  The other Jadans on Arch Road eyed me with less curiosity than on the last couple of days, but none of us understood why this Nobleboy kept singling me out. Cam had mentioned Mama Jana a few times on our errands, but he had yet to mention how they knew each other. The only thing that gave me any sort of comfort was the fact that she didn’t seem to have told Cam about my tinkering, as he’d yet to steer the topic anywhere in that direction.

  Cam pulled out a Tavor token, gleaming silver, waving it about in his fingers. ‘Let’s go.’

  ‘I can’t,’ I said, eyeing the street from side to side, hoping Thoth was still far away. ‘I have to be checked in.’

  ‘That’s right.’ Cam sighed, downing the rest of his tea. Then he tipped the mug upside down, letting the honey drip down to the rim so he might lick it off. Looking around, he absently lapped up the dripping sweetness. ‘I’m hungry. I’m going to find us some breakfast somewhere. What do you like?’

  Another question I’d never thought would have been asked. At this point, any food at all was what I liked. Thoth had continued to halve my rations of late.

  ‘Figs,’ I said quickly.

  ‘Figs?’ Cam echoed. ‘No, that’s boring,’ he smirked. ‘I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere without me.’

  I watched him stride away, wondering what in the World Cried Mama Jana had got me involved in.

  The first bell chimed, coaxing the ‘Khat’s Anthem’ out of our collective throats. Lately every Jadan on Arch Road seemed to be having trouble getting the melody out, as most of us had been starved or beaten to the point where even singing was a struggle.

  Whispers of blame still fell on the ‘Boilweed Girl’, but I’d begun to wonder if the taskmasters caught Shilah they would even tell us. It looked as if they were having too much fun being this much crueller to us.

  Metal footsteps thundered my way, and I was glad my forehead was dry.

  Thoth greeted me with a big gob of spit to my face.

  ‘Fine morning, Spout!’ Thoth said with delight as he wiped the corner of his mouth. The spit tingled on my cheek, still fresh with Cold. ‘That will be your water ration for the day.’

  I nodded, trying not to let my hands clench.

  ‘Response, slave?’ Thoth asked in a calm voice.

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  ‘Thank you?’ Thoth’s eyes darkened. ‘Ungrateful. I think I deserve more than that. I just gave you water from my own mouth. And all you have to say is thank you?’

  I froze, not sure of what else I could say.

  I tried to focus my mind, thinking about my impossible invention. I conjured up the image of Matty’s bird carving in my mind.

  ‘Eyes,’ Thoth commanded, his voice reminding me of the flies that circled the dead-carts.

  I lifted my face with swift obedience.

  Thoth spat again, this time rubbing the spit into my eyes. I knew struggling would only make it worse, so I did my best to keep still.

  ‘Now I’ve given you two rations of water.’ Thoth backed off a bit. ‘Very generous on my part. What do you say?’

  ‘Thank you very much, Jadanmaster Thoth.’

  He regarded me for a moment, the scar on his face deepening as his eyes narrowed. ‘Better, I guess. Still not nearly good enough.’

  He slowly took the rod out of its sheath and slid his hand along the length of the metal. One heavy strike later and I was on the ground, curled up, the side of my knee smarting as if I’d been bitten by a colossal Sobek lizard.

  ‘So close,’ Thoth said.

  ‘Unworthy,’ I tried between quick breaths, the pain in my knee blossoming. Considering I was still conscious I knew he hadn’t shattered the bone, but it brought flashes of light to my vision all the same. ‘Bless you, sir. Praise be to the Khat.’

  ‘You’re on the ground, where you belong. That’s a nice start. But how dare you not address me from your knees? Have you forgotten everything about being a Street Slave?’

  I squirmed into the proper slave kneeling stance. My knee gave out in a wave of agony, but I pressed against the pain.

  Thoth bent lower, his mouth right next to my ear. ‘Unworthy indeed. Don’t forget who keeps you alive.’

  He grabbed me by the back of my shirt and lifted me up. I could barely put any weight on my leg without my knee screaming in protest, but he left me alone, moving down the line to check on the rest of my kin.

  Cam returned, moments later, swinging through the arriving shoppers. A huge smile rested on his face, and I noticed a few round bumps in his side pocket. He came up to me, patting the pocket. ‘You ready now?’

  I nodded, holding back a wince. I limped off the corner, trying to walk as normally as possible.

  Cam followed the pain from my face to my knee. ‘What happened? I was only gone a few minutes.’

  ‘It’s nothing.’ I tried to remain calm, the Sun licking my forehead and enjoying my hurt. ‘What can I help you with today?’

  Cam frowned. ‘But shouldn’t you—’

  I fixed my eyes on him, and my tone came out unexpectedly harsh. ‘What can I help you with?’

  I held my breath. Any other High Noble would have demanded blood for such a tone. Yet Cam seemed to enjoy my fire, his face opening with delight.

  ‘The Ancient Quarter,’ Cam said. ‘Think you can make it that far?’

  Walking helped.

  By the time we were out of the Market Quarter, I felt able to carry something other than myself again. I just hoped that whatever Cam wanted in the Ancient Quarter was small and light.

  Cam led us into a sheltered alley behind the Kay Street Cry Temple and stopped me.

  ‘I’m sorry they treat you like this,’ Cam said, pointing to my knee. ‘That we treat you like this.’

  ‘Cam, you’ve been nothing but—’

  He held up a palm. ‘If they can blame all the Jadans for the actions of one, then I can blame all the Nobles for the action of one.’ He swirled his hand, the gold bracelet on his wrist jangling. I tried to spot a Closed Eye pendant, but there was none. In fact, I didn’t remember seeing any Closed Eye on him at all, which was peculiar. No Eye necklace, no Eye parasol, not even an Eye handkerchief.

  ‘Maybe this will help,’ Cam said, his hand going to one of the bulges in his pocket and pulling out something wonderful.

  An orangefruit.

  A piece of food so expensive, it made Khatmelons seem like common currency.

  Cam pushed it into my palm. ‘Better than figs, right? Had to get him to go through his reserves, but a smart shopper knows the merchants tend to keep the good stuff for themselves.’

  I paused, too shocked to know what to do. Last time I’d eaten something forbidden to my kind I had lost one of my closest friends. My heart clenched, and my hands tensed.

  C
am looked at me, waiting for me to take a bite.

  I knew I needed to get over all this fear. I had to drop the bucket.

  I bit into the fruit, my eyes wild as I ripped and gnashed it with my teeth. Cam said something about not eating the rind, but I couldn’t stop myself. The flesh was plump and juicy and I furiously licked the juice off my forearms when I was done.

  Cam had been kind enough to look away during my savage display, leaving me with some dignity. Neither of us mentioned the orangefruit again that day.

  Cam led me through busy avenues and across prominent squares, brushing at the outskirts of the Auction Bazaar, home of happy shouting and furious bargaining. Thirty or forty vendors were belting out promises above each other: better goods for smaller Cold, spring-loaded quills, foreign chocolate, musical instruments, jewellery, and even sculptures – the kind made from the red clay which unlucky Jadans were made to agonizingly scrape from the banks of the Singe.

  Street Jadans made an effort to stay away from the Auction, unless their Noble specifically requested they go there. The goods were always more expensive than at traditional shops and getting to a vendor without bumping into a Noble was near impossible.

  ‘So, speaking of the actions of one,’ Cam said, as if it was no big deal, using the noise for cover. ‘What do you think of the Boilweed Girl?’

  I stiffened, my knee threatening to buckle. ‘Sorry?’

  Cam put his hands over his head and then mimed tossing something to the ground. ‘Shivers and Frosts, Spout! The Boilweed Girl. The talk of Paphos. Surely you must have heard, considering you have ears, and you live in Paphos.’

  ‘She’s obviously a menace,’ I said carefully.

  Cam ran his tongue over his teeth, something crossing his eyes. He lowered his voice, making sure no one was around. ‘I don’t think that’s obvious at all.’

  ‘I—’

  ‘No pressure,’ Cam said, throwing up his hands in mock defeat. ‘Say no more. The Ancient Quarter awaits.’

  Soon the three domes came into view. My heart beat faster at the idea of going inside.