Coldmaker

by Daniel A. Cohen

  ‘Keep up!’

  I had to grip the ladder tightly as I climbed down, worried the strength in my hands might give at any moment. The smell of the soil was almost too much for me to bear, and I tried not to look directly at the plants spilling out of the cave mouth until my feet were firmly set on the ledge.

  The cave was bursting with life. Green plants flooded the insides, all different shapes and sizes, stretching up the walls and deep into the shadows. Berries of half a dozen colours winked out from the vines, juicy and plump. I recognized many of the fruits from the Market, but it was miraculous to see them still attached to the source. Huge figs melting off the branches. Vibrant apricots clustered tightly. A small Ahmanson tree sat near the cave mouth, offering yellow pods that dangled off each branch. And a Sever Ficus loomed above the mess, dazzling with its scarlet fruit. And there were persimmons, and limes, and even pomegranates, which looked as if they were nursing so many seeds in their bellies that the bulbs were about to drop.

  ‘What, in the Crier’s Eyes, is this place?’ I asked, almost too overwhelmed to press the words out of my mouth. ‘Do the Nobles who own this know you’re here?’

  ‘No Nobles allowed in Little Langria.’ Shilah gave a winsome smile, peering through a thicket of vines and leaves as she stowed the Stinger somewhere. ‘I told you, I make things.’

  ‘This is mad,’ I said, my head swimming with all the delicious odours.

  ‘No,’ Shilah said, practically bursting out from the bushes and jabbing a finger at my face. ‘This is the opposite of mad. This is what happens when you know what’s real.’

  I was starting to feel faint, and I knew I should probably move away from the edge of the ledge, lest I fall backwards and exchange this paradise for the hungry waters below.

  ‘I—’ I took one step in, my tongue failing me as what she said registered. ‘I don’t— you made— no Nobles?’

  Shilah put a hand on my lower back, and helped lead me to safety in the cave. The healthy brown soil gave slightly under my feet, squishing in between my toes, and it was cool, unlike the infinite sands I was used to. It felt like the Sun had never tasted this cave, and I couldn’t help but wonder if Shilah had used the Stinger on me while my back was turned, and this was death.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ I said, feeling the tears come to my eyes. If Shilah had built this, then the place was a miracle. Not a miracle like drinking the Draft, or finding the Shiver in the rubbish, but a true phenomenon that went against every law of nature that I understood.

  Shilah grabbed a pail from the side of the cave. It was attached to a long rope, the end tied snugly on a cone of rock. She tossed the bucket over the edge of the cliff, letting it fall to the waters below, the rope instantly going taut. Giving a heave, the sleek muscles in her arms tensing, she brought the haul back up, boiling water sloshing over the rim.

  Then she dived back into the cave, a few moments later coming out with a handful of Wisps. Dropping two of the Wisps into the pail, she then removed a small cup from a nook in the wall and began doling out little rations for each of the plants, the soil growing darker at her offerings.

  ‘It took me two years to make,’ Shilah said, giving an extra long drizzle over a plant with blue berries that I did not recognize. ‘But I did it. A fully Jadan Garden.’

  ‘You made this place?’ I asked, the truth sinking in as I slumped against the nearest wall, knees crumbling against my chest. What was an Inventor in the face of this miracle? What were trinkets held against a secret fountain of life? What did I know about anything, if this place could exist, right under the nose of Noblekind?

  She nodded.

  I swallowed hard, pushing away a single tear that threatened to run down my cheek. It was all so beautiful, and I wished Abb was here to see what I was seeing.

  She came over to me and offered me a scoop of Cold water, which I drank down in one gulp. Then she slumped against the wall, our sides touching. Pulling up her sleeve, she once again showed me the Opened Eye mark she’d inked into her skin.

  ‘If all this is real, and you made it without Noble help,’ I said, gesturing to her lush garden. ‘Then that means …’

  ‘Correct,’ she said, a finger running around the Opened Eye. ‘We don’t have to be their slaves. The Crier looks down every night, and still He lets me keep this place. They use His name to make their lies seem real. But He loves us, Micah. The Drought was not His doing. I truly believe that. And I think He’s been trying to end our suffering ever since, but He can’t.’

  I pulled my knees closer to my chest, trying to contain my tears. ‘So it’s all lies.’

  Her hand went under her shirt and removed a piece of old parchment, folded many times.

  I was still trying to process everything I was seeing. The Crier hadn’t punished Abb for the Frost. He hadn’t punished me for the bucket. He hadn’t punished Shilah for a whole Garden.

  ‘Is the Crier even real, do you think?’ I asked, throat choked up. ‘Or is everything about everything a lie? Did the Nobles just make the Crier up?’

  ‘I don’t know what’s real.’ Shilah unfolded the parchment, revealing it to be a map of the Khatdom; but it extended further than any map I’d ever seen. Up North, above the River Singe, above the Glasslands, above the City of David’s Fall, even past the Great Divide, was a small area marked with the Opened Eye.

  ‘But I plan on finding out,’ Shilah said, tapping the spot. ‘I’m going to go where Cold falls everywhere. And crops grow huge and juicy, way bigger than mine. And there are lakes filled with Cold water where you can swim without getting burned. And there are birds singing, and all kinds of animals that are supposed to be extinct. And when you walk, you walk on grass instead of sand and mud. Jadans aren’t slaves in Langria. You’ll see.’

  The map began shaking in my hands.

  She put a hand over mine, keeping it steady. ‘But I don’t want to go alone. I can survive out here alone, but there’s so much I can’t do on my own. So I’ve been waiting for someone else who believes.’

  I felt sweat prickle on my forehead, and I moved the map aside so I wouldn’t stain the ink if any drops fell. ‘How do I even know what to believe any more?’

  ‘The map was my mother’s,’ Shilah explained gently, getting up and picking a selection of fruit. ‘The best Jadan I’ve ever met. She told me all about Langria. And that she’d heard some runaway Jadans from Paphos would march—’

  ‘Are there secret Cry Patches?’ I blurted out, trying to think clearly in spite of the fact that my whole world seemed to be tumbling around me. ‘Patches that the Khat doesn’t know about? Is that where you get your Cold? Is that how Langria could be real?’

  Shilah laughed, plucking an apricot and adding it to her collection. She came over and dropped all the fruit in my lap. The rush of the current below was soft at the mouth of the cave, and it almost sounded like the River was tittering along with her.

  ‘With questions like that,’ she said with a grin, ‘I think I picked the right partner after all.’

  Chapter Twenty

  White smoke broke through the sky this time.

  Every Jadan on their corner stiffened, watching the thin clouds billow above the Cry Temple. Thoth’s earlier walk down Arch Road had warned us that something like this might happen, as he drew an unusable symbol on each of our foreheads and commanded us to kneel until told otherwise. He’d scratched his quill across our skin wearing an expression of firm purpose, although he hadn’t said a word about what we should expect.

  The Priests in white showed up again, but this time, they lined the corners beside us, kneeling down and laying their Closed Eye poles at their sides. Their chants were different now, the tone more reverent and quieter. The taskmasters were back in droves, but their whips remained curled at their hips, and they too dropped to their knees at the sight of the white smoke rising.

  Even Thoth had set himself gently down to the ground, taking care not to wrinkle his uniform, as he knelt wit
h the rest of us.

  Not a single word was spoken for a full bell. Noble shoppers appeared at the edges of the street, but it was clear something was happening, so they remained to one side, silent.

  I felt the ink drip into my eyes, the sweat practically pouring from me now. Shilah had made sure she returned me to my barracks with a full stomach of both miracle food and Cold the night before. I’d never felt so full of life, the juices of so many fruits still on the back of my tongue. My dreams too had been like nothing I’d experienced before, and when I woke up, it was with clarity, and ideas involving the sky and stars filling my brain.

  If Shilah could make a Jadan Garden, then maybe I could make something impossible too.

  My body felt whole, and my mind felt as if it was flying rather than trudging through the dunes. I’d hoped to have a normal day of errands during which I might half-heartedly consider Shilah’s offer of running away together and searching for Langria.

  But I could think of nothing other than the distinct sound of the ram’s horn, and the thickening of the white smoke that was now rising all over Paphos.

  Rams had gone extinct with the Drought, and their horns were very rare, only used on holy occasions. I’d heard the instrument sounded only twice in my life: once when the Khat had his firstborn son, and once in honour of the Vicaress of Belisk when she was called up to the Crier. If I could even believe that such things happened any more.

  The horn sounded out closer, blaring in a series of extended blasts. I could tell its player was nearing Arch Road. The Priest and taskmasters hadn’t moved from their knees, although some of their expressions had soured from being in contact with the hot stone.

  And then the Khat’s chariot appeared.

  I’d only ever seen the structure in paintings or in stories, but I recognized it instantly.

  The chariot was being carried by four of the largest Jadans I’d ever seen, so fierce that they made Slab Hagan look like a well-fed infant. Four golden poles extended onto each of the Jadans’ muscular shoulders, and they marched down Arch Road in perfect unison so their cherished bounty would remain stable. Armoured soldiers of the Khat flanked the sides of the chariot. They too marched in unison, weapons lowered, moving as one unit, the sound of their boots booming a thousand times louder than Thoth’s metal soles. The golden curtains on the chariot were drawn, lined underneath with the same kind of waxy paper as my Cold Wrap, and I almost broke into a smile of recognition. If my own experience was anything to go by, the air in the chariot would be so cool that the Khat would need a dozen layers of windcloth just to feel comfortable.

  The idea that the Khat wasn’t any more divine than I was still tugged at the edges of my sanity. The man behind those golden curtains had power, huge and reaching, but it wasn’t the kind he claimed. It couldn’t be. For a Jadan Garden existed. One which had nothing to do with him, yet thundered with beauty.

  The chariot, along with its pageantry, was gone almost as quickly as it had appeared, turning the corner and disappearing onto Maan Road, the ram’s horn blaring loud and leading it into the next Quarter. I noticed that some of the Priests beside me had bent all the way over so they might kiss the road that the Khat had crossed.

  ‘Rise, slaves!’ Thoth called out, as if he’d been waiting for his cue.

  All the Jadans snapped up, while the Nobility followed at their own leisure. Some of my kin were shaking, their knees wobbly from having witnessed the ‘divine’ in the flesh. I wished I could show them what I had seen, and tell them what I had been told over the past few days. Would their knees tremble then?

  A black-clad figure now stood in the spot where the chariot had appeared, and for the first time, the Vicaress was not holding her fiery blade.

  Instead, her hands clutched a large black bag, velvety and bulging at the seams.

  Behind her was an extraordinarily large rations cart being pushed by two lackeys in white, a tub of boiling water sitting between baskets upon baskets of figs.

  The Vicaress spoke, and the lackeys repeated what she said loudly enough for the whole street to hear.

  ‘The Crier assured me He is pleased!’ the Vicaress said, her voice echoing around her. ‘You, Jadan people, have taken your Cleansing without incident. And the Sun has been banished from your hearts. The Crier wishes to reward you for your service. First with a sighting of your divine ruler, and second with a gift of rations. Do not be afraid! Bask in the fact that you made it through, here to serve the Creator once again. You shall feast on figs and choose a Wisp from the holy bag to drink in your water. Together, we shall celebrate the Crier’s delight.’

  The Jadans around me first stood still in disbelief, but as the lackeys began to hand out fistfuls of figs, their faces slowly filled with excitement. The Vicaress herself held the bag open, giving each of the Jadans a seductive smile as she encouraged them to reach inside and select a piece of Cold for their water.

  I watched what she was doing with a detached sense of awe. The Vicaress knew she’d overstepped her bounds, going against the Gospels, so she got the Khat involved and implemented this scheme. Abb’s secret meeting about fighting back was probably not the only one in Paphos, and the Nobles knew they’d have to do something. This bribery was nothing but an attempt to quell any future resistance, and the worst part was, it would probably work. More than anything, more than all the figs or Cold in the Khatdom, the Jadan people wanted to feel that the Crier hadn’t forgotten about them. An eternity serving Noblekind in the afterlife was far better than spending an eternity in the black.

  The Vicaress slid in front of me, and I held my breath, trying not to inhale her intoxicating perfume.

  She opened the bag, offering me a smile that could make the Pyramid crumble down to its foundation. ‘Pick one, boy.’

  My hands were shaking, but I’d been a slave long enough to know what my facial expression should be. For now, I reached in and pulled out a perfectly nice Wisp, round and shiny. A Priest handed me the communal water goblet, so I dropped the Cold in and drank it all down in one delicious gulp. Figs were shoved into my hands, and the Vicaress moved to the next corner.

  I almost wished the smoke above the Cry Temple was black again.

  Not because I wanted any more pain for my people, but because I knew after this little peace offering, the Opened Eye would no longer show up on any walls for quite some time. Abb was right, the Nobles would do what it took to keep their power, and this little token of appreciation was a better motivator than any lashing. It was what the Jadan people had always been desperate for.

  The Nobles were lying to our faces, and we’d been taking it for hundreds of years, and I knew right then that I couldn’t possibly leave to try to find Langria while all my family was stuck here, suffering and—

  The Vicaress gasped, which triggered a rustling from the nearby taskmasters.

  ‘This Jadan has chosen a black Wisp from the bag!’ the Vicaress said, hand over her chest. ‘He has not been Cleansed! The Sun is still in his heart! He must have drawn one of the Firemaker’s Brands!’

  All eyes were drawn to the scene, and we watched the cornered Jadan tremble in front of her, a black Wisp in his hands. The piece of Cold looked as if it had been dipped in paint, and left to dry, covering it in an unnatural sheen. The Jadan looked at the thing with a face full of confusion, his hands shaking.

  ‘Taskmaster!’ the Vicaress snapped, pointing at the nearest one. ‘Take this Jadan into the Central Cry Temple. He still has secrets.’

  The taskmaster sprang to his feet and grabbed the Jadan by his arm, wrenching him down Arch Road. The black Wisp toppled to the ground, and was picked up by the Vicaress, who brandished it so all might see, before stowing it in her pocket.

  ‘Fear not!’ the Vicaress said, spreading her arms to us. ‘If the Sun is not in you, you have nothing to worry about!’

  The rest of the Jadans on Arch Road reached into the bag much more slowly when it was their turn, but when their hands came out of the bag hol
ding a regular Wisp, their smiles were only bigger.

  I knew what they’d be feeling. That the Crier truly cared for them, keeping their hand away from any black Wisps, and giving them cool water and figs. The eating and drinking would usher in one of the happiest feelings imaginable.

  For just a moment, they were once again worthy.

  Apparently anger also made me sweat.

  I was discovering this new fact about myself, heart stewing with rage, as I stood on my corner and thought about the vile things the Nobles made us suffer. They were ruthless and calculating but most of all, they were liars. We weren’t punished for our misdoings, and never would be. We’d been fed lies, all in the name of hoarding Cold.

  Every other Jadan seemed delighted at their fortunes, bodies full of food and Cold, and getting some time to rest on their corners. Thoth had announced we’d all remain unusable until the white smoke disappeared above the Temples, and that we should spend our time thanking the Crier for His gifts and mercy.

  But I’d spent long enough thinking about the Crier. My mind turned instead to the decision ahead of me.

  It was simple: either I ran away in search of freedom, or took Cam’s offer and spent my days tinkering.

  Either way, I was on my way to a better life.

  At least that’s what I thought, until the Vicaress returned with my name on her lips, two taskmasters at her back.

  I couldn’t hear her voice, as she was at the far end of Arch Road, but I could see her mouth forming the word Spout, and Thoth’s finger swooping towards my corner.

  She sauntered my way, with a black wool cap dangling in her hand. I met her eyes, and they were full of mockery, the blue colour startling in its brightness. The taskmasters marched behind, one of them holding a pole with a loop on the end, the other holding a giant hammer.

  I tried to cool myself, but my chest was full of fire.

  ‘Observe,’ the Vicaress said, as they arrived in front of me, ‘he already knows why I’m here. Look at all that sweat.’