Coldmaker

by Daniel A. Cohen

  I moved the metal in and out more quickly, trying to find the release. The Khatberry juice on Shilah’s skin made her smell like the Garden. But I couldn’t afford this kind of distraction. We needed a plan.

  ‘We have to go to the Manor,’ I said.

  ‘What Manor?’

  ‘Cam’s Manor. The High Nobleboy from the library,’ I said, almost tripping the pin. ‘He’ll take you in too. Partner.’

  I could feel her body tense up at the declaration. ‘A High Noble Manor?’

  ‘I spoke to …’ I knew how foolish it was going to sound, but the promise I’d made still rang in my ears. ‘I think I spoke to the Crier.’

  ‘What are you babbling about? I can get you more water.’

  I paused. ‘I think I died. And talked to Him.’

  She finally pulled away from me, dropping her gaze from the shackles. ‘You sound pretty confident for a dead person.’

  ‘Maybe not died then,’ I said, wishing she could feel what was in my heart. The Ice. The voice. ‘But I went somewhere beyond. And He told me I had to invent it.’

  ‘Invent what?’

  ‘Langria.’

  Shilah’s voice took on an edge as she tapped under her shirt where I knew the map would be. ‘How about we just find it? I think that might be easier than building it from scratch.’

  I shook my head, resolute. ‘It’s not real yet. We have to make it.’

  Shilah burst out laughing. ‘I knew showing Little Langria would give you ideas, but I didn’t think you’d take it this far.’

  ‘What?’ I asked. ‘I’m being serious. The Crier told me Langria’s not real. But I have an Idea that—’

  Shilah’s playfulness was gone. ‘You’re not joking?’

  I shook my head, tripping the lock in one of the shackles, and moving to the other. ‘I’m going to fly.’

  Shilah folded her arms across her chest, looking at me as if I was crazy.

  ‘Think about it,’ I said, working fast, as I thought I heard voices in the distance. ‘Cold only falls in the Khat’s Patches since the Drought, right? But it used to fall everywhere. And what if it’s still up there in the sky all around us. What if we could get to it?’ It felt strange talking to someone about the Idea I’d been mulling over for so long, but it felt right hearing the words out loud. ‘I’m going to invent something so that we can go up and get the Cold ourselves.’

  Shilah’s face was blank, expressionless through all the Khatberry juice smears.

  My cheeks grew hot. I was hoping she’d at least be excited about the Idea. ‘That’s freedom,’ I said. ‘The Khat can keep his Patches. We’ll have our own way to get Cold. That’s how we’ll make Langria.’

  ‘Micah.’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘This is impossible.’

  Voices rang in the distance, only a few streets away, and I moved the metal thread in and out of the lock faster.

  ‘We can’t just go running into the sands with no Cold or friends or a plan. It’s suicide,’ I said, finally freeing myself from the shackles, rubbing my wrists as I stepped off my corner. My legs felt wobbly, and my ribs burned, but I knew I’d find strength on my path. The Idea clamoured to get off my tongue and move to my fingers. ‘We’ll go to the Manor’s tinkershop. Cam will keep us safe. We can learn secrets, and I can try and build us our miracle. The Crier said—’

  Shilah heard the voices too, her face darting to the side. ‘If you’d really spoken with the Crier, then He would have told you you’re an idiot. It’s impossible.’

  I gestured for her to follow me down Arch Road. We didn’t have much time, as the noises were getting nearer. ‘I thought a Jadan Garden was impossible.’

  Shilah stood her ground. ‘I’m not setting foot in a High Noble Manor. You have no idea what happens in places like that. I’m going to Langria.’

  I felt myself grow angry, which I knew was incredibly inappropriate, as Shilah had just most likely saved my life. ‘And what happens if I’m wrong and you actually find Langria? What about all the Jadans still here in Paphos? And Belisk? And the ones chained up in the Glasslands? Our people will still be slaves, so it changes nothing. We need to figure out how to make us free, not how to run away.’

  Shilah took a quick, sharp breath, her face so fierce I felt like taking a step back. Then a deep sadness crossed her eyes, and without another word she darted into the alley and began running.

  ‘Shilah!’ I called, instantly realizing I’d shouted. The nearby voices suddenly stopped.

  Shilah didn’t turn back, disappearing into the darkness. I gritted my teeth, thinking about how foolish she was being, and then I began limping as fast as I could in the opposite direction, away from the nearing voices.

  I was two streets away and one rooftop over when I heard men’s voices shouting for the Vicaress. The taskmasters had discovered my corner vacant, the chains empty, but that didn’t concern me any longer. It would be a long, hard trek, but I’d make it through the city and to the Tavor Manor.

  I kept crawling, my whole body screaming in protest, but I silenced my aches with a glance at the Pyramid. The Crying had just started in the distance, and I watched the thousands of streaks of life falling onto the sands beyond.

  I thought about Matty’s birds, and about flying, and about all the Cold up in the night sky waiting to be collected. I thought about buckets, and straight backs, and Abb’s secret meeting at the barracks, and I pushed through the pain.

  I was going to break the Khat’s hold on the world.

  PART THREE

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Licking my palms, I moistened the dried blood on my chest and drew the red smears across my face. The more pitiful I looked, the better the chance the guards might believe my lie.

  Looming in front of the eastern gate were two massive Jadans, the biggest I’d ever seen. They stood rigid, holding spears so thick the metal shafts might as well have been extensions of their meaty forearms. Great slabs of armour didn’t dent their stances in the slightest, and their skin was so dark even Moussa looked Noble in comparison.

  In the dim starlight I could only just make out the Tavor sigil branded into each of their foreheads, and I hoped I wouldn’t have to undergo such scarring to be welcomed in the Manor. Beneath the symbol, the guards’ faces were focused and fierce. Rumours had it any Jadan selected to be a guard received special treatment to guarantee complete and utter obedience. Rumour also had it that the woman leading those long treatments wore black robes and had a knife that danced with fire.

  I couldn’t rely on the guards seeing me as family, but I had to try to provoke enough pity by making myself look truly helpless, since it was long after curfew and the guards had every right to cut my neck on the spot.

  Taking a deep breath, I limped from behind the dune, dragging my left foot along the sands, only having to exaggerate my pain slightly after my encounter with the Vicaress this afternoon.

  They spotted me instantly.

  ‘That’s far enough,’ one of them barked, his voice gliding across the sands.

  I limped closer, making my way out of the sands and onto the stone street leading up to the gates. The cuts on my chest burned like Sun had touched my skin directly, and I had half a mind to take off my shirt so they could see all the damage.

  ‘Enough!’ the other guard said.

  I kept my eyes down and my arm nursed over my chest, as if it were too painful to let it hang freely. Dragging myself down the road, I made sure my whimpering was audible.

  The taller guard thrust his spear out as I closed in, the point shining with menace. He waved it through the air to gather my attention.

  I kept looking down.

  ‘Think he’s deaf?’ the guard with the crooked nose asked under his breath.

  The shorter one shrugged and stuck out his spear as well, waving it about. ‘Stop there, kid!’

  I pretended I was afraid, putting one hand up to defend my face, hoping I’d just look like another dirty Jadan. The Vicaress might h
ave already put out a name and a description that could have beaten me here, and I had to be careful until I was inside with Cam.

  ‘I’m sorry, sir,’ I called, making my lips quiver. ‘I can’t hear very well! He pierced my eardrum. Said he’d pierce the other if I didn’t finish the errand tonight.’

  ‘Who?’ the short guard asked, with no sympathy punctuating the question. ‘Why? Talk louder.’

  I let out a single sob.

  ‘Speak, boy!’ Crooked Nose barked.

  I knew almost nothing of High Noble politics, but I did know from Cam that the Tavors had a strong rivalry with the Erridians, and so I decided that my best bet was to play on that. ‘I was g-given an er-rrand,’ I stammered out, careful to keep angled so the starlight wouldn’t reveal my face. ‘I have to deliver a message. To the High Nobleboy Camlish. Tonight.’

  ‘Where’s your token?’

  ‘What, sir?’

  ‘Your TOKEN,’ he said, exaggerating the movements of his mouth.

  I let my fingers shake, pressing my hand against my ear. ‘He didn’t give me one in case I got caught. Didn’t want anyone to know who sent me.’

  Short Guard pulled his spear back and pointed to a small table beside them. ‘Leave the message there. Then go.’

  I let out another sob, sad that I had to play such a wretched creature. ‘I can’t, sir. I can’t. I wasn’t allowed to write it down. The High Nobleman from House Erridian—’ I stopped myself, eyes widening as I threw my hand over my mouth. ‘The message has to go to Camlish Tavor, personally. No parchment. I was beaten for every word I didn’t memorize.’ I lowered my gaze, letting my arm flop down. ‘I finally got it right, though.’

  The guards gave each other a silent look, conversation jumping between their eyes. I could tell I wasn’t impressing them.

  ‘Please, SIR!’ I cried out, coughing at the end. It was a real cough, and in fact, I was starting to feel woozy from all the talking. ‘If he finds out I didn’t tell Nobleboy Camlish personally, he’ll kill me. Please, sir. I don’t want to die. I want to serve the Khat. Please. He told me—’

  Crooked Nose let out a grunt of annoyance. ‘Fine, just stop whining. I swear, your generation is thin as soggy boilweed. A little blood and you go all soft. Wait here.’ He spun the numbers on the lock and the gates clicked open. ‘I’ll get Master Camlish.’

  Short Guard kept a suspicious watch over me as his partner went inside.

  What felt like forever passed, my heart hammering, but eventually Cam arrived at the gates in his silk nightclothes. I was glad he hadn’t taken a moment longer, because my head was spinning so badly I almost didn’t recognize him at first.

  Cam’s eyes shot awake at the sight of me, and he rushed forward. ‘Spout! Are you okay?’

  Crooked Nose gently put his spear between us. ‘Careful, sir. These Street Jadans are nasty. And he’s got many open wounds.’

  The guard’s tone struck me as odd, as if his blood wasn’t as Jadan as mine. I angled my face, giving Cam the smallest shake of my head. ‘I don’t know what Spout is, sir. But I have a message for you. From my master.’

  Cam paused, confusion thick upon his face. ‘But—’

  I rubbed my ear. ‘It’s a secret message, sir.’

  Cam thankfully seemed to pick up on the ploy. Scrunching his face in the most disdainful way possible, he exclaimed, ‘Shivers and Frosts! What is this nonsense?’ His spoiled tone was a match for my injured one. ‘You dare wake me in the middle of the night for a message, little slave?’

  ‘I’m sorry, sir,’ I called out, putting my head down. ‘I was told I had to tell you a message personally or else they’d kill my family and then they’d kill me.’ I knew I was laying it on thick, but now that Cam was here, I felt free to do so. ‘I’m sorry. No one else is allowed to hear it.’

  I limped forward, keeping my head tilted to the side and in shadow.

  ‘Close enough,’ Short Guard announced when I was only a few paces away.

  ‘Very well, slave,’ Cam said with a sneer. He pushed the spear aside, making room to come through. ‘If my message is to be private, let it be private.’

  ‘Be careful, Master Tavor,’ Crooked Nose said. ‘He might have weapons on him.’

  Cam waved a dismissive hand, walking forward. ‘Bah! These little Jadans are harmless. No spines at all. I’m in no danger.’

  He came over to me and leaned in, both the guards stiffening instantly.

  ‘What happened?’ Cam whispered. ‘You look terrible. Why aren’t I supposed to know you? What’s going on?’

  ‘I’m in trouble,’ I said softly. ‘The Vicaress is looking for me.’

  ‘Why? Oh, Spout. You look like death.’ Cam swallowed hard. ‘What happened? Do you need water? Medicine?’

  ‘Can you get me inside?’ I asked, my vision narrowing at the sides.

  Cam backed away and nodded seriously to the guards. ‘Very well. I guess that is an important message.’ He grabbed my collar and pulled me through the gates. ‘Come with me.’

  Short Guard started to protest. ‘Sir, what are you doing?’

  ‘I’m going to write him an answer to take back, obviously.’

  Crooked Nose nervously cleared his throat. ‘Young Master Tavor, sir. Your father said—’

  Cam got right up in the guard’s face – even though he only reached his chest. ‘I’m the Tavor here. I’ll do whatever I please. What right do you have to stop me?’

  The guard nodded. ‘Very well. My apologies, Master Camlish.’

  ‘Don’t worry about this little slave,’ Cam scoffed. ‘I’ll send him out of the west gates later. And no word of this to my father, or I’ll have you both sent to the Quarry.’

  Cam dragged me along the path of stones leading from the iron gates. A dozen paces away stood a long clay wall, too tall to see over. He shouldered open a door in the centre, hurling us through.

  My jaw dropped as we landed in a different world.

  A river of grass flowed outwards, the deep green colour pure in the starlight. Not a drop of sand dusted the blades, underneath was only dark brown soil. Long spikes of grass stretched towards the sky like tiny pikes. I looked in both directions, and found that the garden seemed to surround the entire Manor. The whole place bustled with life, making Little Langria look like a single potted plant. To my left, vines crept across trellises, bearing bright berries. Thick trunks were feathered with leaves, fruit tucked in every crevice. And there were wiry bushes dripping with yellow pods. Tubs of Cold waited nearby, more than I’d ever seen in one place, with little ducts at their bases that could wind water through the dark soil.

  A dozen Domestic Jadans tended the garden. They wore uniforms unique to the Tavor Manor, tools in hand to work the soil. They were wonderfully pretty, their hair long and combed, but their expressions were sunken and hollow. I knew with faces like that, they probably had to suffer far worse errands than purchasing hand fans and delivering parchment. For Nobles, beauty was a gift, but for Jadan girls, it was just another kind of chain.

  ‘Sorry about the way I talked to the guards,’ Cam said. ‘I hope I didn’t offend you with any of that.’

  I didn’t respond, my throat tightening.

  The girls were spreading Cold water along the grass, their faces haunted and expressions blank. A few had trouble walking, even though their legs had no visible wounds, and they looked over at us with silent desperation.

  Cam followed my eyes, his face going pale at my expression. ‘I don’t touch them, I swear. I would never hurt them. Ever.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ I managed to cough out, my head too light for comfort. I could feel the Vicaress’s blade digging around in my chest once again, and I didn’t realize it until now, but I was in quite bad shape. ‘Inside, please. Hide.’

  Cam nodded, putting a hand on my shoulder to keep me steady. ‘Come on. I have the perfect place. Just for now.’

  He ushered me out of the garden and towards a set of small doors off to the side. We e
ntered the Manor into what must have been just a hallway, but looked to me like a Palace. The air was devastatingly Cold, and the floor was tiled in beautiful black and white marble. Iron candelabras lit the place with musky-smelling candles, and ornate tapestries draped down the walls; lining the walls were cabinets full of shiny trinkets on display. The Tavor crest showed up everywhere, from diamond-encrusted plaques to embroidered tapestries, to wooden instruments hung up with the crest branded along their bodies.

  But what really sent me over the edge were the pedestals.

  Through the hallway, prominently displayed on wooden podiums, were Chills nearly as big as my head. I rarely saw Cold that size, as it was too valuable, and never entrusted to Street Jadans. And each Chill had a coloured Closed Eye painted on it.

  This Cold, each one capable of cooling a huge pool of water for days at a time, was out on display. Not used to keep the Tavors alive, or to buy things they might need, or even to grow bigger gardens.

  It was an outrage.

  When Cam spoke again, all I could hear was the blood rushing in my ears.

  ‘Spout,’ he said. ‘Come on. We need to get you off your feet.’

  I tried to answer, but the pain and emotion were too much for me, and I toppled over, everything going black.

  ‘Spout.’

  I jerked awake, trying to remember where I was. I sucked in a desperate breath, but the air was too cool for the barracks, and the walls too close to my sides. Pain registered in every one of my bones and joints. A blind panic rose in me but Cam’s face appeared in front of mine, and he snapped his fingers to keep me focused.

  ‘Spout,’ Cam said. ‘It’s okay. Here. Drink.’

  Something was pushed onto my chest, and my fingers scrambled up the pouch, my throat so dry that I couldn’t speak. I tilted the water into my mouth, but found it was thick and syrupy. Even drinking was an effort.

  ‘What happened to him?’ another voice asked.

  ‘I think he was tortured,’ Cam said, adjusting his golden glasses.

  ‘Course he was.’ The words were slightly slurred. ‘Khat-damn course he was.’

  Silence.