‘Because he’s the only one of us who knows how to really fight,’ I countered. ‘And track. And he knows about the other Hookmen who are currently hunting us down and trying to kill us. And he’s family.’
‘Let me see your hand,’ Shilah said quickly.
‘No. It’s fine.’
She smirked. ‘I’m going to catch you off guard.’
‘Also, how are we going to find Cam and Split without Dunes?’ I asked.
‘Well, if this place was part of the Coldmarch, I assume Split knows a secret way inside,’ Shilah said. ‘So if we also find a way inside, I bet we’ll find them too. I don’t think it’s going to be nearly as difficult a task as crossing the Singe in an Ice boat. Which we did just fine, thank you very much.’
‘This is serious,’ I said.
I wanted to smirk and remind her she’d dubbed the Ice boat an ‘Abb-boat’, but the pain in my hand made any sort of light-heartedness impossible. I was petrified to peel off the boilweed and see my skin. Proper inventing took two hands – at least a lot of it did – and if I’d screwed up my abilities I’d never forgive myself.
Or the Crier.
‘Fine,’ Shilah said, turning on our brute of a companion, who was still scratching at the city bricks with his giant blade. ‘Dunes. How do we get inside the city?’
The Hookman shook his head. The wound on his cheek was seeping blood, and I wished I had some salve for him. And I also wished I had some for me, although the excruciating pain in my hand seemed far past the abilities of groan salve.
‘I don’t know anything about the city,’ Dunes said. ‘Hamman knew a lot. But I am not Hamman.’
Shilah threw up her hands in frustration. ‘Wonderful news. What a lucky break in having you switch sides.’
Dunes’s expression darkened and he scraped his thumb up his hooked blade, drawing blood. It looked incredibly painful, but he didn’t flinch.
‘Stop that,’ I said. ‘We need you whole.’
Immediately he snatched his thumb away and bowed. ‘By your command, Meshua.’
Shilah rolled her eyes. ‘Sure. Well, if we can’t count on any secret Hookman knowledge to get us into the city, then we have to think logically. We need to find the alder. That’s been one consistent thing this whole Coldmarch, and maybe we skipped a few shacks on the way, but I bet if we can find the alder we can get inside.’
I nodded, glancing up at the high walls. ‘I can’t think of anything better.’
‘Dunes,’ Shilah said, without hiding her contempt. ‘Do you know of any red alder anywhere on these walls? Maybe there’s a cave or something with the colour painted on the entrance? Or a picture of the flowers themselves?’
Dunes shook his head. ‘I don’t know anything about this city. I am reborn. I am free from the shackles of the past.’
Shilah sighed and took out her mother’s map of the Khatdom. She traced her fingers around the City of David’s Fall section, her lips pinching sideways in frustration. ‘I don’t see anything that—’
‘I can guess,’ Dunes said quickly under his breath, not meeting our eyes. ‘I can guess at things, Meshua. Ask me to guess and I might be able to.’
‘Guess then,’ Shilah said, raising an eyebrow.
‘Meshua,’ Dunes said, clearing his throat. ‘Would you like me to guess?
I gave Shilah a look that said ‘please just go with it’ and put a hand on the Hookman’s shoulder. The muscle there was corded and hard, and I wondered if he might be able to scale the wall just on the strength of his forearms alone. ‘Please, Dunes. Guess where there might be some red alder.’
Dunes paused, his face pinched with concentration. I could tell he was making the act of recalling the information look much harder than it really was. Considering my past behaviour, I wasn’t one to judge how he dealt with grief.
‘I guess,’ Dunes said, ‘you might mean the Closed Eye with the red lid. Hamman always found it strange.’
‘Red lid?’ I asked.
‘Do you know about the Coldmarch?’ Shilah asked carefully. ‘Is that why it was shut down? Because the Khat found out?’
‘No. But I’d guess,’ Dunes said, hiding his face, ‘that if you looked hard enough to the top of the wall, and knew the right general spot, you might be able to see the red on the small eye.’
Shilah tugged at her braid and gave me a begrudging nod, the kind that told me to press on.
‘Dunes,’ I said, ‘which direction?’
He gave a violent shake of his head, sucking in a breath through his wide nose.
‘This is going to get very old, very fast,’ Shilah said.
‘Guess, please, Dunes,’ I said gently.
‘I’d guess … four hundred or so paces to the right,’ Dunes said, his face scrunched again. ‘Around the lumpy pieces of quartz that look like hands and next to a limestone face with the three-colour striations. Probably.’
I nodded.
Four hundred or so paces later, around two pieces of quartz – that very much looked like hands – next to the limestone face with the triple striations, I stopped and looked up.
The thinnest shade of red was painted on the Closed Eye statue above the wall, the eye indeed slightly smaller than the rest.
‘You can guess about things all you want, Dunes,’ I said, trying not to think about the searing pain in my hand.
Dunes didn’t answer me, instead dropping into a slave stance. His body looked oddly used to the slight hunch and bowed limbs.
That’s when I had a revelation.
The Hookmen were supposed to be demons.
They were the nightmare of Jadan children, one of the things that kept us from moving even an inch off our sleeping blankets after curfew. Here was a creature of darkness, with hundreds of scars all over his body to signify all the Jadans he’d damned. But he was just as tortured and broken as those he was tasked to capture. Perhaps more so. I wondered, had Dunes lived his life with more or less freedom than I had? Even though he’d been able to move about the Khatdom without a taskmaster, or chains, he was still very much under the crushing weight of the Noble thumb.
I’d never been forced to capture and destroy my own kin.
My heart broke for him.
‘And would you look at that,’ Shilah said, pointing at my feet.
I would have missed it had she not pointed it out, but there was an orangefruit peel tucked under a rock.
‘That looks fresh,’ she said. ‘You think someone’s been here?’
‘Cam,’ I said without hesitation.
‘How do you know?’ Shilah asked.
I clucked my tongue, picking up the rind. Orangefruit had a special place in my friendship with Cam. To my astonishment, Cam had bought me one not long after we’d met, and he also left a pile of them at my side to wake up to in Leroi’s study, back when I was first running from the Vicaress. If Cam wanted to leave a discreet sign for me that wouldn’t draw attention from any passersby, this would be the perfect way.
‘I can guess too,’ I said.
She bit her bottom lip, a playful look in her eyes. ‘Your sudden wisdom doesn’t have anything to do with those faded dwarf camel prints over there, does it?’
A faint trail of hoof marks indented the ground nearby, just barely discernible, the wind having scraped away most of the evidence.
‘Doesn’t hurt to have two signs,’ I said.
‘Let me see your hand,’ Shilah said quickly.
‘No.’
She sighed, going up to the wall and running her hands over the brick until they came upon a small empty space. A line of red rimmed the top edge. She went to put an eye up to the hole, but—
‘Wait!’ Dunes shouted, everything about him flexing at once. This looked quite daunting.
Shilah pulled away from the wall with a start. ‘What?’
‘It’s cooler in the holes. The Sun can’t reach in those places,’ Dunes said, gently brushing her aside. ‘That means it’s perfect for …’
He fitted the tip of his curved blade into the dark nook and rattled the metal around, thoroughly scraping. Two white scorpions scuttled out, dropping to the sands and burying themselves beneath the ground in quick succession. Dunes sucked in a huge breath, and gave a mighty blow into the hole. A plump scorpion waddled out next, tumbling to the sands and landing on its back, legs flailing. Dunes pressed the tip of the blade in one more time, jiggling it back and forth. Eventually he gave a satisfied nod, dropping back into slave stance.
‘I promised to keep you and your companion safe, Meshua,’ he said. ‘I would take the pain first.’
Shilah looked as if she was about to say something barbed, but then took a deep breath. ‘Thank you, Dunes. That was a very fine thing, saving me from stings.’
Dunes nodded. ‘It is obvious that you are important to Meshua. I will keep you safe.’
Shilah’s cheeks gave a light flush as she quickly pressed her eye to the shadowy hole.
‘The alder in here spells hope again,’ she said. ‘With an arrow. And there’s also …’
She gave a scoff and then reached in with two fingers, pulling out another orangefruit rind. She wiggled it in my face, annoyance and amusement splitting equal territory across her cheeks. ‘Now we know why there were so many scorpions in there. Your friend needs to think twice about his ideas.’
‘Our friend,’ I said. ‘And it wasn’t Cam’s fault. He just wanted me to know he was here.’
Shilah gently placed the rind on top of the wiggling scorpion stranded on its back. ‘Eat up, girl. Looks like you’re eating for many.’
‘What’s the message say?’ I asked.
Shilah’s face creased up as she felt around in the hole. All of a sudden a small section of the wall pulled back, as if on hinges, revealing a hidden Khatclock face. It was just like the ones in Mama Jana’s shop and at Split’s shack.
‘All this time,’ Dunes whispered, although there was something off in his tone.
The hands of the ancient Khatclock were both pointed downwards, poised over a Closed Eye. Shilah spun the hands North without a moment’s hesitation. Gears turned, locks clicked, and once again a hidden passageway revealed itself.
The tunnel smelled damp and musty, which meant there was likely a water source somewhere inside. This was terribly lucky, as we only had Dunes’s waterskin to share amongst the three of us, and it was nearly empty.
Shilah went to step in the tunnel, but Dunes cleared his throat.
‘Yes?’ Shilah asked carefully.
‘I would like to go first. Just in case.’
‘In case of what?’ Shilah asked.
Dunes held his blade out and stepped into the tunnel without answering her, folding himself at the shoulders to fit. Shilah watched him shuffle into the dark, and stuck a hand on my chest.
‘You have a bad feeling again?’ I asked. ‘We kind of have no choice at this point.’
She shook her head, continuing to watch Dunes’s back as he disappeared into the dark tunnel. Then, without warning, she spun and planted a kiss right on my lips. This one was soft and dry, barely touching. My vision went hazy and I nearly joined the white scorpion on the ground, pinned on my back and flailing.
She pulled back too soon.
‘I—’
She licked her top lip and then wrapped a hand around the back of my neck, pulling our faces together. This kiss was much harder, raw and full of passion. She was heat lightning to my Shocklands. I was helpless in her grip, once again a young and inexperienced boy. Her lips parted mine. I went to tilt my head to the side in case I was doing something wrong, but she kept it in place, her fingernails scratching up into my hair. She kept her tongue exploring, the wet touch letting me know it was all right. I almost melted, losing focus of everything around me, mesmerized by how tender lips could still be so commanding. The swell of her chest pressed into me, and I wanted to angle away out of courtesy and respect – and to hide my own excitement – but she kept me in place, making my whole body aware of her warm presence.
Before I knew it, she’d undone the knot of boilweed from my hand, the wrap having fallen clean off.
A lump formed in my throat. ‘Hey, I—’
She shushed me and took my wrist gently in her hand. My elation plummeted into despair. My wound was far worse than I’d thought, and I grimaced heavily at the sight, my stomach clenching and forcing up a dry gag. The skin was blackened, darker than pure ash, consuming my pinky and ring finger. Both nails had cracked off, and the black stain stretched around into my palm. I was jagged and ugly, the Abb having proven itself to be far more than I could handle.
The Sun, seizing the prime opportunity, bit into my wound with fervour, causing the pain to flare up and my whole body to shudder with shame and fear.
‘Oh, Spout,’ Shilah said, her face all concern.
And then something in me snapped.
It wasn’t the act of undressing my wound that set me off, or even the fact that the back of my hand looked like it had just spent a week on top of a blacksmith’s anvil, but rather it was Shilah’s tone that caused the break. I didn’t need pity. Pity was only fitting if I’d indeed been betrayed by the machine. Pity was only fitting if I was truly out of my depth. I’d tried to save one of my people, to harness the goodness and compassion of the Crier, and I’d been crippled for my efforts. Punished for even trying. Pity meant Shilah’s kiss had been nothing but a ploy. It rubbed in the fact that only one of us had been burned.
So much for world partner.
The echo of her words grated on my soul, and because I couldn’t bear to look at my hand, I snatched it behind my back and practically hissed at her.
‘Give me my bag,’ I said.
Shilah’s face had become unnaturally soft, which made the twisted feeling even worse. ‘I’m sorry—’
‘Now,’ I said, not meeting her eyes.
‘Spout,’ she said, under her breath. ‘I just wanted to—’
Heat shot into my face, the corners of my eyes moistening. My hand felt as though it had been dipped in a kiln and left to dry. ‘I have more boilweed in the bag. Give it to me.’
She nodded, taking the Coldmaker off her shoulder. I snatched out a new strip of the grey plant, making sure there were no scarabs hiding in the fibres, and quickly covered my hand up, trying not to snarl under the pressure.
‘Spout,’ Shilah said, pushing out her bottom lip. She reached out a hand towards the back of my neck. ‘I just wanted to make sure—’
I hurled past and left the machine lying on the ground, following Dunes into the darkness of the tunnel.
Despite my squirming, Cam didn’t let me out of his grip. His yellow hair was wild and matted, and there were shadows haunting his eyes. His ripped shirt was still tinged with Gales breath, which wasn’t exactly pleasant, but I was glad to inhale the bitterness. The smell reminded me that we were all together, still on the Coldmarch, and our path hadn’t become as broken as my hand.
‘Do I know my Spout, or do I know my Spout?’ Cam asked, finally releasing me and clapping my shoulders. He shot a careful look behind me as if expecting Dunes to lunge. When it became clear the Hookman wasn’t going to do anything of the sort, Cam flattened his hair and gave Split a smarmy look.
‘Told you the orangefruit would do it,’ Cam said.
‘Very good, Camlish,’ Split said, quite sullen as he sat around the mysterious pool in the centre of the cave, his elbows resting on his knees. His face was only half lit by the few candles set by the water’s edge. There was another source of light around the back of the cave, but it was dim and gritty, and I couldn’t quite make out how it was being made. It looked a bit as though someone had grabbed a star from the sky and smeared it across the stones, making sure the resulting layer of dust was as thin as possible.
‘Yeah, your genius plan almost got me a face full of scorpion stings,’ Shilah said.
Cam cocked his head to the side. ‘Oh. Sorry.’
‘Don’t sorry anyth
ing,’ I said. ‘It was a good idea, and it got us here.’
Cam clucked his tongue, turning to Split. ‘In that case, pay up, Pedlar.’
‘I’m not going to do it now,’ Split growled.
‘I thought you were the pinnacle of merchants,’ Cam said. ‘Someone who deals in deals.’
From the intense glower Split offered, I thought the Pedlar might grab Cam and toss him face first into the swirling water. The pool was hypnotic, its gentle rings swelling inwards. The current was drawn towards the centre, where it funnelled downwards, as if there were a hole in the bottom.
Cam lowered his voice, poking me in the stomach. ‘I bet the old man that you’d find us here no problem.’
‘Bet for what?’ I asked.
‘He has to show us the traditional Crying Dance,’ Cam said, pointing to the raised platform next to the water. On the polished stone was a raised cone of earth, over which a very strange garment was draped. I couldn’t make out the clothing clearly, but the object looked lumpy and stringy at the same time. It wouldn’t make for a very effective armour, if indeed that’s what it was.
Cam leaned in and lowered his voice, glancing over my shoulder at Dunes again, fear in his eyes. ‘I thought some exercise might do his mood good.’
Split was still refusing to look our way, the light from the candles not meeting his face. He should have been at least a little happy to see his flock intact.
‘Is that Adaam Grass?’ Shilah shouted, pointing to the back of the cave. She’d been preoccupied rubbing Picka’s snout, the little camel having rolled on its side, licking Shilah’s fingers.
Split nodded, waving a flippant hand at the smeared brilliance. ‘It’s old and bitter, though. Not many cool places left in the world, and no one to pull the weeds.’
‘I thought Adaam Grass became extinct during the Drought?’ Shilah said, her hands over her mouth. ‘It’s beautiful.’
Picka grumbled from below, nudging Shilah with her snout.
‘I told you both before,’ Split grumbled, still not looking away from the waters. ‘This ain’t Paphos. There’s a lot you two don’t understand. A lot.’
‘So tell us,’ I said, trying to keep composed. My wrist hurt so much that I could feel the throbbing in my jaw.
Coldmarch Page 22
