Mama Jana stopped at her giant Khatclock with the Closed Eye for a face. Even though the huge timekeeper was a beautiful display of craftsmanship, I’d never paid it much mind. Besides the giant timepiece being a looming symbol of Jadan inferiority, it was also broken, its two hands forever stiff. The Khatclock only ever pointed in one direction, straight up. Mama Jana had never asked me to take a look inside the machine to see if I could get the gears and cogs working, and so I’d never offered.
‘Wait here,’ she said, eyes already planning her route back through the dark shop. She threw the bag of soiled clothes at Cam’s feet. ‘And say nothing.’
I gave my friends a confused look, which was returned by a helpless shrug from Cam, and a perplexing smile from Shilah.
Mama Jana careened around the room gathering things with the swiftness of a wraith. Darkness nor clutter were able to stop her. She gathered clothes, waterskins, velvet bags of Cold, assorted vials, and a compass. Last she grabbed the half-empty basket of figs, balancing it in the palm of her hand. Another series of horn blasts sounded outside and my stomach seized up.
I ran my fingers against the smooth bronze metal of the Coldmaker, my nails scraping along the engraved Opened Eye I’d carved with a hammer and chisel. The machine was small enough to fit in my arms, but still quite heavy, as it was made mostly of dense bronze. It also walled in a whole Frost, and was filled with salt water, two of the main components that made the invention work. Jadan tears were dropped onto the Frost inside, which caused a visceral reaction at the catch-point. I didn’t know exactly why it worked that way, but the machine’s presence bestowed me with strength and kept me from having a breakdown; so even if it weighed more than a whole caravan cart, I would have found a way to keep it by my side.
Mama Jana reappeared as fast as she had gone, shoving the basket of figs into Cam’s hands and the bags of supplies into mine. ‘Free of charge. My first flock in so long.’
‘Mama Jana, what’s—’
She put a hand to her lips, cutting me off and giving me a stern look. ‘No. Talking.’
I nodded, hearing every rapid beat of my heart in my ears. Shilah looked far too calm considering the circumstances, as if none of this surprised her. Cam at least looked as lost as I did, as he was drenched in sweat, and squirming with a hand over his stomach as if he was about to spew.
Mama Jana pulled back the glass face of the Khatclock and took hold of the spindly hands. Before doing anything else, she gave me a look, as though she’d been waiting on this moment for some time.
‘North.’ Mama Jana nodded, and then spun the hands one full rotation. ‘The March is always North.’
As the Khatclock’s hands completed their circle, the entire Closed Eye face opened with a faint click, revealing a startling display of strange writing beneath the mechanical lid. The whole clock swung forwards, revealing a hidden hole that was lit faintly by a distant flickering light. The dark corridor led to descending stairs not unlike the ones in Leroi’s study, and brought with it a frightful sense of dread, reminding me what had happened last time we took one of these secret passageways.
Mama Jana put a hand on my back and gently nudged me along, handing me the soiled clothes to take with us. ‘Go, children. I’ll seal you in and hold them off as long as I can. It’s airtight, so those foul beasts shouldn’t be able to smell you. Remember, the March is always North. Follow the signs, and when you get to the shack, ask for Split the Pedlar. He probably won’t answer to Shepherd any more. Now, hurry!’
I went to spin around, but Mama Jana’s arms were stronger than I remembered. ‘Wait, what March?’
‘The Coldmarch,’ she said, glancing over her shoulder at the front door.
Cam gasped, sucking in a breath so fast he almost choked. ‘It’s real?’
Mama Jana licked her cracked lips, her eyes feverish and crazed. ‘It used to be real. And I guess it is again. Now take these words with you if you can. Hold on. Okay, let me remember. Shemma hares lah …’ She stopped, her tongue rolling on the roof of her mouth, struggling to find the next part. ‘Shemma hares lahyim her— no, that’s not it.’ She flexed her gnarled hands with frustration. ‘It’s been a while. Let me get the Book of the March.’
I clutched the Coldmaker more tightly against my side and offered: ‘Shemma hares lahyim criyah Meshua ris yim slochim.’
From the look of shock, I thought Mama Jana was about to faint.
‘My father told them to me,’ I explained.
The sharp memories of Abb made me bite down on my tongue, and I might have drawn blood.
Mama Jana composed herself with a sigh, but her words moved quickly. ‘Fitting for such a name. Now go. There’s still a lantern burning, and candles. Take the lantern with you, you’ll need it. Move with caution as there are certain dangers down there. Eat the lizards if you must. You’ll find water eventually. What am I forgetting? Hmm. I was just down there … don’t stop, even if you hear my voice behind you …’ The circles under her eyes deepened. ‘I’ve not broken yet, but the Vicaress has certain ways.’
‘The Coldmarch is real,’ Cam said to himself, looking quite flustered. ‘I can’t believe it. My father always said “If the Khat can’t find it, it’s not real.”’
Mama Jana said nothing, just made another shooing motion, brushing us towards the dark.
I rifled through my bag until I found one of the loose Abbs, handing it over.
She took the Abb gently, holding it up against the bit of light trickling in from the passageway. ‘What it is, Spout?’
‘Put a slice of it in water and tell as many people as you can,’ I said, keeping my voice hushed so she wouldn’t yell at me.
Mama Jana gave me a curious look, but the horn calls were explosive now, even through the walls of the shop. She finally brushed us through the threshold and swung the Khatclock back in place, sealing us away.
Chapter Three
Grabbing the lantern from the bottom of the stairs, I lifted it high so we might get our bearings. Glancing back at the Khatclock, I found the space now to be one solid wall, not even a single crack where a horn or a shout might pass through. I knew there had to be a way to slip back into the shop, but I found no sign of a knob or release, and from Mama Jana’s tone it didn’t sound like she intended for us even to try.
Spinning around, I let the light shine down the empty corridor that stretched deep into the earth. The passageway was wide enough to accommodate us if we walked in single file, the walls so smooth they almost looked wet. The air tasted strange in my mouth, and not just because of our collective rosemusk bath. I smacked my dry lips. The air was so much cooler than back up in the shop, but I saw nothing in the way of Cold Bellows. The temperature must have been natural.
The passage took a sharp turn left after about ten paces, cutting off sight to whatever lay beyond.
Cam put his forehead against the clay wall, closing his eyes and taking a moment before speaking. ‘It’s real. I knew it.’
‘You know what this place is?’ I asked, feeling rather childish as nightmare images jumped into my mind. I knew I should be thanking the Crier for the incredibly fortunate fact that Mama Jana had a passageway out of her shop, but ever since childhood I’d been bombarded with stories of haunted holes and cracks in the land. Places where the unforgiving spirits lived, bottled up and angry.
Beneath the ground was where the foul creatures lurked, plotting how they might make it up to the surface where they could partner with Sun and do his bidding. Sobek lizards and sand-vipers would be the least of our problems down here, and a part of me wondered if it would be better to take our chances with the hounds.
Cam kept his head pressed against the wall, but looked at me with a small tear dotting the corner of his eye beneath his glasses. His face was still blood red from exhaustion, but at least he was smiling. ‘I mean, I knew it was real, and you did invent a miracle. And my father really is a monster, but this proves everything once and for all. I would go back to the library and burn a
ll those paintings and—’
‘Cam, stop babbling and talk to me,’ I said carefully.
Lifting himself away from the wall, I thought he might start dancing. He threw his arms wide. ‘Spout, you’re going to change Sun-damned EVERYTHING! And I get to help you!’
‘Keep it down, idiot,’ Shilah snapped at him, pointing to the door.
Cam gave an embarrassed nod, his chest rising and falling with incredible speed.
‘I would have thought you were a true believer when you took us in, Camlish?’ Shilah said with an eyebrow raised, standing in the centre of the chamber with her arms crossed over her chest.
‘Why am I the only confused one?’ I asked. ‘What is the Coldmarch?’
‘I’m surprised you haven’t heard the stories,’ Cam said, standing straight and grabbing at the end of his Opened Eye necklace. ‘I would have thought it would have been pretty common lore in the barracks.’
I shook my head slowly.
‘The Coldmarch,’ Shilah said, stepping up to me and putting a hand on my shoulder. ‘There’s a reason I kept bugging you about leaving the Manor. There’s already a path to Langria.’ She paused, considering something. ‘Or there was.’
‘Hold on,’ I said, needing a moment. ‘Just stop. We don’t know what’s down there. Just … hold on. This tunnel goes all the way to Langria?’
Shilah pointed back up the stairs with an impatient look. ‘Like she said, the Vicaress has her ways of getting information, and I don’t want to be near that clock if the hounds track our scent to the shop. Now come on, I’ll fill you in as we walk.’
‘You told me dozens of stories before we went to sleep on those cots.’ I suddenly felt a tad betrayed. ‘Why wouldn’t you tell me about an existing path to Langria?’
‘Like I told Mama Jana, I’m a girl of my word.’ Shilah kissed her finger and waved it at the sealed entrance in some foreign gesture of gratitude.
Did I really know anything about this girl?
She grabbed the lantern, holding it at arm’s length as she traipsed down the passageway, forcing back shadows.
Cam wiped his single tear from his cheek and held it out towards the Coldmaker, his excitement dipping. ‘I wish you could use it to make Ice. One day the Crier will forgive me.’
I had no idea what to say to such a thing.
‘Maybe one day,’ Cam said again with a hopeful shrug. ‘Maybe I can be chosen, too. A Jadan, like you both.’
Even the finest Inventor in the World Cried couldn’t tinker with someone’s blood, but still I said: ‘I’m sure.’
Shilah kept quiet, but I could see what she burned to say.
‘Come on,’ I said. ‘We have to hurry.’
Cam took both the supply bags, the dirty clothes and the basket of figs, not seeming to mind the burden, leaving me to carry only the Coldmaker, which I clutched dearly against my hip.
Shilah led us through the tunnel and I followed last in line, my head swarming with visions and possibilities.
‘The Coldmarch,’ Shilah said, only loud enough for me to get a trace of her words, ‘is a web of stops, stretches, and people along the path North. It’s a journey, not necessarily a place. There were hidden chambers like these run by Jadans and Noble sympathizers all across the Khatdom, set up so they could usher people in secret. Obviously no one could dig out a tunnel all the way from Paphos to Langria, as that would take all the Builders in the world thousands of lifetimes.’ She looked back with a wink. ‘I thought you were smarter than that, Spout.’
The way she said it, playful and wry, didn’t seem to connect, and I had no joke in response. I wasn’t in the mood to joke anyway.
‘Some brilliant Inventor could have come up with a digging machine to do all that work,’ Cam said. ‘I’ve seen some pretty impressive things in the tinkershop.’ He looked back over his shoulder, beaming. ‘That your next invention idea, Spout? I have to say, you’ll need something rather big to follow up’ – he gestured with his elbow to my bag – ‘a miracle.’
‘Flight,’ I said without pause. I expected a pang to strike my heart like a battering ram, but nothing shook. I thought back to my time under Thoth’s wool hat. I wondered what Matty might say if he could see me now, protecting something that could change the world, walking through the dark veins of myth. ‘Flight is next.’
Cam smirked. ‘If anyone can do it, I’d bet my Cold on you.’
‘What Cold?’ Shilah whispered with a scoff. ‘You don’t have any claim to the Abbs.’
‘I brought you the Frost!’ he said.
‘You mean the one that your father stole from the hardworking Patch Jadans?’
‘Wait.’ Cam suddenly stopped short, and I nearly crashed into his back. ‘This is wrong.’
I looked from side to side for talons or teeth. A drunken Levi had once assured our barracks that hounds’ eyes glowed red before the beasts pounced.
Cam shook his head, pressing himself flat against the side of the cave wall. ‘You go in the middle of us, Spout.’
‘Why?’
‘Just do it. You deserve to be in front of me.’
‘No, it’s okay, I can—’
‘Just. Please,’ Cam insisted, pressing himself harder, his face squished against the cool rock.
‘Why?’ I asked.
Shilah sighed from up front. ‘Boys. Hounds.’
‘And maybe worse,’ I said under my breath.
Cam tried to angle his way behind me, sliding along the smooth walls, his loose shirt and bags dragging. I tried to stop him and we did an awkward dance, both of us shimmying backwards.
‘What are you doing?’ I asked.
‘You’re the most valuable of us,’ Cam said, not meeting my eyes. ‘You stay in the middle. Just in case.’
All of a sudden the Coldmaker felt very heavy.
I didn’t say anything, letting Cam filter around in front of me. He was still balancing the basket of figs in one hand, and I snatched one, shoving it in my mouth and biting down hard, hoping some food might help me feel more normal.
‘Let me at least take the bag of dirty clothes,’ I said between bites.
‘I need to carry them.’ Cam craned his neck so he could see Shilah. ‘This is also for you, you know.’
Shilah kept walking, her back straight as the edge of a knife. ‘Drop the dirty clothes, Camlish. Mama Jana just needed them out of the shop.’
I was surprised how authoritative Shilah could sound. Cam gave a conceding shrug and did as commanded, tossing the bag aside and giving it a frustrated kick as he passed it.
We followed the corridor around a bend and found that the ceiling sloped lower and the walls pinched closer. I’d never had a problem with tight spaces before, but something about being underground made the musty air – cool as it may have been – feel as if it was going to suffocate us. My chest felt tight, and I dug my thumbs into my ribs, trying to loosen the knot.
Shilah didn’t seem to mind, and she picked up the pace, guiding us deeper into the dark.
‘Anyway,’ she said, ‘the Coldmarch has been kept extremely secret for obvious reasons. No mention of it in writing, and everyone involved kept about as tight-lipped as they could. The March supposedly only let a handful of Jadans North every year, most always young girls. It was shut down a while back, apparently ten years, but I don’t know why.’
‘But why would they shut down something like this?’ I asked. ‘Every Jadan should have known. No. Every Jadan should have gone.’
I drew my fingers along the wall. Feeling the stone, the damp texture and tiny imperfections, I understood the importance of such a place as this. That didn’t mean I wasn’t detached. I was walking through a secret that could have started a revolution, a place that proved us chosen, or at the very least worthy, and I should have been struck with something powerful. Awe perhaps. Disbelief maybe. Flames of righteous indignation. Something that infused life back into my soul.
But all I could feel was the stone.
&nbs
p; My father was gone.
Shilah shrugged, urging us onwards. ‘Maybe the Khat found out. Maybe something changed. I imagine the whole situation was delicate to begin with.’
‘If the Khat found out about it,’ Cam said, all of a sudden looking very pale. ‘That means we might be walking right into their hands.’
Shilah picked up the pace. ‘Yes. It’s possible.’
Cam stopped. ‘So …’
‘So we have no choice, Camlish,’ Shilah said, holding the lamp higher, her feet slightly splayed.
‘Why do you keep saying my name like that?’ Cam asked gently.
‘Because it’s not a Jadan name,’ Shilah said with a huff.
‘I didn’t choose to be born Noble,’ Cam said, his face strained. ‘But I’m damn sure doing everything I can to make up for it.’
‘I know,’ Shilah said softly. ‘But you still don’t know what it’s like to be Jadan. You never will.’
‘I’m going to prove it to you,’ Cam said over my shoulder. ‘I’m going to show you that—’
All of a sudden the corridor ended in a wall with a large smear of dark red cascading from edge to edge. I didn’t need to examine the colour to know that it was blood, and my stomach tightened.
The Coldmarch was over as soon as it had started.
My machine was heavy; my foolishness weighed more.
‘Mama Jana sent us into a trap,’ I said, still oddly removed from the situation at hand. I stopped short, wondering how long it would be until we were cornered by beasts. I didn’t blame Mama Jana. Life was hard enough in Paphos, even for the lowborn Nobles, and everyone had to do what was necessary to survive. I didn’t blame her. I ached. Even with all the whips and stabbings I’d suffered as a Street Jadan, I had come to find out the worst sting came from betrayal.
Cam came up next to me, his throat visibly stiffening. ‘Is that blood on the wall?’
Shilah kept pushing forwards, swinging the lantern.
‘She’s probably keeping us down here until they arrive,’ I said matter-of-factly. ‘Then the hounds can rip our throats out without any fuss. I bet we’re worth half the Khat’s fortune, and Mama Jana will be set up for life. It’s smart, really.’
Coldmarch Page 3
