by E. S. Maya
Safi clutched a fist to her chest. She could feel her heart racing. “If Wulf doesn’t show up, we’ll go and fetch Foreman Adams. Agreed?”
The boys nodded.
Recruits began spilling from their many work tunnels. Safi watched as the adit flooded with a torrent of blue-shirted bodies, marching sluggishly towards the light of day. But the adit did not empty itself. There was a commotion, and a crowd was piling up. Boys were beginning to shout.
Stiv and Safi looked at one another.
“Let’s go!” Stiv said, breaking into a run. Safi threw down her pickaxe and sprinted after. She reached the crowd before him and shoved her way through, knocking miners aside with her shoulders and hips.
She burst into the center of the crowd, then dropped to her knees. Stiv pushed his way through behind her—and tore himself from the sight.
On the floor lay Wulf on his chest, silent and unmoving. Black hair streaked his pale, upturned cheek. His left leg was bent at the knee in a way no leg should go.
“Titans,” Safi whispered.
Jabbar made his way to her side, then lowered himself beside her. He squeezed his eyes shut and threw up his palms, muttering a broken prayer in the glottal Abedi language.
Safi climbed to her feet, spinning to face all the gawking miners. “Don’t just stand there!” she said, looking from boy to boy, each of them watching in horrified silence. Why wasn’t anyone doing something? Stars exploded across her vision, and her head began to pound. She found her hands on the collar of an older boy, then another, her lips speaking words faster than she could catch them. She glanced down at Wulf, then away again. It was even worse than she’d thought.
Heaving for breath, Safi threw herself at the crowd, pounding at chests with her fists. Someone caught her by the forearms. It was Goggles. Two wet lines ran down his dusty cheeks. She put her forehead to his shoulder and sobbed.
Then looked down at Wulf and screamed.
Part III
49
Wallflower
Through the many stones of Lazar’s Crossing, Safi walked alone. Most lay scattered about the dust like shards of broken glass. Few had broken off round, other than Cronus’ Fingertip, and it was hardly the size for kicking.
Eventually, she found a small round stone about the size of her fist. She knocked it with the toe of her boot, and the stone went skipping across the ground. What surprised her was how it slowed to a stop exactly where she expected it to.
An obedient little stone, Safi thought, as she caught up and swung her foot. This time the stone landed a short walk away. Somehow, its presence made her feel less lonely. So long as she kept kicking, she knew it would roll on forever.
Stone. Stone was perfect, predictable. Few things made more sense. Of the thousands of stones throughout Lazar’s Crossing, none would move, nor break, without an outside force acting upon it. None would harm unless caused to harm. By something, or someone.
She paused her kicking and looked north, to the long, armless body of the Siege Titan Cronus. Only the Titans defied the laws of stone. The result was the flattening of a forest, the widening of a river, the destruction of a city…
For a Titan, death was the only unpredictable moment of its life. In that regard, they weren’t so different from people. Cronus’ sleepy figure would never move again. Not without the crack of a pickaxe and the haul of a minecart.
Safi walked on, leaving behind her loyal stone to stand guard forever. Then she squinted, nearly shutting her eyes, and imagined herself as a Siege Titan. Tall, steady, and safe.
A minute into her march, a clever stone sneaked under her boot, sending her tired feet stumbling. She spun in place, slipping her pickaxe from her shoulder. Gripped the haft in a burst of anger, outraged that a mere stone would dare interrupt the march of a Titan. Her pickaxe arced through the air, pausing over her head. And she brought it down on the sneaky stone, and again, until all that remained of it was dusty gray smudge.
Safi shouldered her pickaxe. Her chest shuddered with every breath. Poking around with her boot, she searched the dusty remains for any hint of glittering green. But there wasn’t a Siegestone here. There wasn’t a Siegestone anywhere. Not for her, and there never would be. Wulf was right.
Safi moved on, sparing the rest of the stones, even the clever ones, out of respect for Cronus and stone itself. She made her way back to the barracks, where the last of the girls were returning from second shift.
She stood outside the door, shut her eyes, and listened.
…to a chorus of birds in the autumn morning. To the ringing of chimes on a gusty spring day. To sounds of happiness, of home, but not of Ashcroft village. This was a different home, in a kingdom long forgotten, in a place not so strange and unfamiliar to her. A place she’d never known, but somehow came to remember.
Listening still, Safi entered the barracks, leaving the doors open behind her. She stepped into the main room and froze, for the voices had gone silent.
Of course, Safi thought, as the girls in the room turned to look. She felt acutely aware of her work shirt and trousers, her neckerchief and helmet. In the Titan Mines, her uniform made her indistinguishable from the boys. Here it made her different.
Or did it? It wasn’t any uniform that had earned her the boys’ respect, but months of painstaking work. And yet, respect was different from acceptance. No matter how much she mined, how filthy her uniform became, she wasn’t, and would never be, one of the boys.
So Safi wondered: had she not chosen to become a miner, would she have fit in with the girls instead? There was still the matter of her bloodline, though being born half-Abed was no choice of hers. Hard as she tried, she couldn’t imagine a life where she wasn’t seen as an outsider, judged by her body, her skin, her hair—the choices she hadn’t made. The choices she never could.
In the cleaning room, Safi peeled off her uniform and flicked the garments to the floor, needing her bed far more than to put her dirty clothes away. She dragged her heels across the floorboards of the main room, pickaxe cold on her bare shoulder. The one thing she didn’t feel comfortable leaving behind.
The usual girls were waiting around Safi’s bunk. Raven sprang up from Pearl’s bed, walking slowly to meet her friend. She greeted Safi with a careful hug, but Safi’s arms were full of pickaxe, and she did not hug Raven back. “Blondie?”
“Hey,” Safi said, brushing past Raven, nodding at Rebecca and Pearl, and lowering her pickaxe to the floor. Then she crawled into bed and pulled her blanket up to her neck.
“You okay?” asked Raven, popping up at her bedside.
Safi closed her eyes and nodded into her pillow. “Sure. But I have to sleep now.”
“Come to chow,” Raven said, putting a hand on Safi’s shoulder. “A girl’s gotta eat.”
Safi shook her head against her pillow, sinking into the place between dreams and the waking world.
“Safi,” Raven pleaded, as her voice grew deep. “Safi…Safi…Safi…”
“Safiyas!” said her mother, hovering over her bed. It was her familiar hand on Safi’s shoulder.
Safi stretched her arms and yawned, sounding more like a cat than a thirteen-year-old girl. Rubbing her toes together, she felt the prickly numb tingle of misbehaved feet, escaped from her blankets once again.
“Get up and eat before the porridge gets cold,” Tabitha said, giving an exasperated sigh before marching back to the kitchen. Safi wrapped her pillow around her head as her bedroom door came slamming shut.
Sitting up in bed, Safi caught her reflection in the vanity mirror across the room. Her face looked ghoulishly thin, emphasized by the thick blonde hair that puffed out from the back of her head.
She whimpered as she sank back under her blankets. She reached beneath her sleeping gown to run her hands over her tummy. Shriveled and tight, like a bag of iron pennies. Hungry, too. Very much so.
So Safi slipped out of bed, taking great care to avoid her reflection in the mirror. She opened her wardrobe and ch
anged into a simple woolen dress, but left her hair uncombed before staggering into the kitchen.
Father sat in his chair at the head of the kitchen table, hunched over a steaming mug of black coffee. With two cupped hands, he lifted the mug to his lips. His mustache hovered perilously close to the brew.
Safi wiped her cheeks with her wrists. She was surprised to find them wet with tears.
Mother scooped two ladles of porridge into a large wooden bowl. Chased by a steaming tail, she whisked it over to the table and slapped it down in front of Safi’s seat. The one next to Father’s.
“Sit down and eat,” said Tabitha, then added, “but not while it’s still too hot.”
Swinging her legs under the table, Safi spooned a bite. As usual, breakfast was thick and tasteless. Mother had used water again, and even Safi knew that was no way to make proper porridge. Not that she wanted porridge at all, poper or not. “Pa, when are we going to get some real food around here? I’d simply die for cut of meat.”
Lips in a tight frown, Tabitha reached over her daughter’s shoulder, stirring her porridge briskly. “Porridge is plenty real.” When she let go of the spoon, it spun in the bowl all on its own. “Now eat.”
Yusef gave a hearty chuckle, taking lip-smacking sips of coffee. “Soon, my sweet,” he said, in his perfect northern accent. He ran his fingers through Safi’s hair and smiled. “The climb is next week. Afterward, we’ll go to the city, and I’ll buy you and your mother a fine meal. With plenty of meat.”
“Gosh,” Safi said, spooning a mouthful of porridge. “The city. I’d sure love to see that. You’ve been promising to take me to Guardia for years.” She swallowed with a smile. “Can we go tomorrow instead?”
Tabitha sighed, wiping down the kitchen counter for what had to be the hundredth time that morning. “Safiyas, you know you have work tomorrow.”
Safi pouted. That was right, she and her team were pulling six carts now, and it would be silly to fall back on quota after all their hard work. With a sigh, she raised her bowl and tipped it backwards, gobbling down the last of her porridge.
When she set down the bowl, her father was gone. How strange that she hadn’t seen him go. She always watched him leave for the iron mines in the morning.
Tabitha strutted over to Safi, patting her bony hip. “Enough lazing about. Up you go.”
Safi scooted back her chair and groaned. She began buttoning up her heavy shearling coat. And ass her shivering hands worked, her mother thrust a handful of silver coins deep inside her pocket. Then Tabitha made a point of folding in half a piece of paper—a shopping list, hastily written—right under Safi’s nose.
“And don’t you lose it,” Tabitha said, pushing it in alongside the money. “And don’t forget the cabbage!”
Safi looked away and stuck out her tongue. “Yes, Mama.” She slid off her chair and was surprised to land on two sandaled feet.
“Hurry along now,” Tabitha said. She placed a hand on the small of Safi’s back, guiding her towards the cottage door.
Pausing by the doorway, Safi turned around to bid her mother farewell. But Tabitha had turned away, strong back flexing as she scrubbed the Azadi’s iron cooking pot. Safi furrowed her eyebrows. Try as she may, she simply could not remember her mother’s face.
With a heavy shrug, Safi marched out to Ashcroft village’s main road. The dirt felt soft beneath her feet, and it was such a beautiful day. She adjusted her satchel and shut her eyes, thinking wonderful thoughts, and began her long walk towards the village square.
50
A Song Called Friendship
Safi awoke with a start, for the entirety of her bed was shaking. Why must the morning always be shaking? She fluttered open her eyes, fully expecting to find the stare of her mother’s stern face.
Of course, there was Raven, straddled atop her waist with both hands rocking her shoulders. “About time you got up.” She patted Safi’s cheek and hopped off the bed. “You’d sleep forever if I didn’t wake you.”
“Then I wish you never would.” Safi sat up and yawned, then started. Daylight filled the barracks, and today wasn’t Blessing Day. She swung her legs out of bed and landed on two sleepy feet.
Raven cringed as her bunkmate went crashing to the floor.
Safi shot up and began to shout, “I’m late for work! You’re late for work!”
“Matron stopped by this morning,” Raven said. “Told Hannah and the girls you were getting the day off.” She gave a deliberate chuckle. “Boy, was Hannah pissed.”
Safi clutched her forehead as the room began to spin. “Wulf,” she said. “Is Wulf okay?”
Raven shrugged. “I’m a damn cook, Blondie. How am I supposed to know?”
“Wait, why are you here?”
“Bargained the day off from Matilda. She was real worried. Figured you might need the support, and I thought I could use the day off.” Raven gazed out the window, then back at Safi. “Keep you from doing somethin’ crazy.”
“Noth,” Safi growled. Her eyes darted around for her pickaxe, found it propped against the windowsill. “I’ll slaughter him!” She stomped up to the digging tool and took the haft in both hands.
Safi’s knees buckled when Raven threw her weight onto her back. The Anderan hooked her elbows under her shoulders and squeezed. “Easy now, killer.”
Safi didn’t struggle. Her body seemed to deflate in Raven’s arms. The two untangled themselves, and Raven held Safi’s hand as she guided her towards their bunk chest.
As they sat together in silence, Safi remembered, pictured, Wulf’s broken, twisted leg. She knew the boy might never work again. On top of that, his wager with Noth was set in stone, two Blessing Days from now.
She lowered her head and whispered, “They’re going to kick me out of the Titan mines.”
Raven scoffed, leaning forward to meet Safi’s eyes. “They ain’t gonna do nothin’.”
“You don’t understand,” Safi said. “Noth made the wager with Wulf, and I agreed to it. If Wulf no-shows, he loses by default.”
“Who says you gotta follow them dumb rules anyways? Recruit foreman can’t kick you out of the mines on some say-so.”
“You just don’t understand,” Safi said. “It’s different with boys. When you swear you’re going to do something, you’ve got to stick to it.” She took a deep breath and exhaled sharply. “Noth will do me worse otherwise, and to the other miners it’ll seem like my fault.”
Raven stared off thoughtfully, though her fingernails drummed on the lid of their bunk chest. “Wulf’s injury’s so bad he won’t be good to fight in two weeks?”
“Real bad,” Safi said. “Never-walk-again bad.”
“Titan’s ass,” Raven muttered. After a moment of silence, she turned to Safi and narrowed her emerald eyes. “Tell me then, just what exactly is Safiyas Azadi going to do?”
Safi gripped her knees. They used to shake when she felt afraid. She felt afraid now, but her knees were still. “Not much I can do,” she said. “Practice cleaning up for when the fifth-year boys take me, I suppose.”
Raven’s face bent into a grin. The scar on her left cheek nearly touched her eye.
“It’s not funny,” Safi spat. “Not everything’s a joke. You think me cleaning up after a bunch of fifth-years, and Wulf getting hurt, is funny?”
“Blondie, Blondie, Blondie,” Raven said, shaking her head. “I’m disappointed. After all that effort becoming a miner and building them muscles.” She ran her tongue between her teeth and bottom lip. “And trying to run away from the Blackpoint carriage.”
Safi’s thick eyebrows flinched. How does she know about that?
“And after all that,” Raven continued, throwing up her hands, “Safiyas Azadi, just giving up!”
“There’s nothing I can do!” Safi said, thumping her heels on the bunk chest.
Raven slipped a hand up the back of Safi’s neck, sinking her fingers deep in her hair. She gave her head a good playful shake. “Think, Blondie! A big ol�
� stone-for-brains like Noth has gotta have some kind of weakness.”
Safi stared up at the ceiling. She had never noticed its many wooden beams, crisscrossed beneath the barracks’ tall square roof. She wondered what would happen if one of those beams broke. If the whole building would come crashing down.
“Noth’s definitely not stupid,” she said. “He gets angry real fast. Probably has trouble taking off a work shirt.”
“And?” Raven gave Safi’s head another shake. “And?”
Safi frowned. “Uh, he likes being in charge?”
Raven snapped her fingers twice. “That’s the right idea, keep going.”
“Wish you’d just tell me,” Safi grumbled. “Uh, he wants people to like him. To be afraid of him.”
“To respect him,” Raven corrected her. “That’s his weakness.”
“Okay,” Safi said. “But what good is that to me?”
“You really are blonde-brained,” Raven said, cackling like a madwoman until Safi reached down and poked her in the ribs. The Anderan girl’s body twitched like a dying bug. Finally, she got to the point. “What would happen if another recruit fought Noth in Wulf’s place?”
“Well,” Safi said, “Stiv’s been beaten, and Jabbar is no match. And Goggles, he’s not the fighting sort.” She could feel Raven’s fingers twitching against her head.
“Can you think of any girls who could possibly fight him?”
“Of course not,” Safi said, then turned in her seat to face her friend. “Wait, are you saying you’re going to fight Noth?”
“Blasted Southerling fool!” said Raven, shaking Safi’s head once more. “You’re the one who’s going to fight!”
“You’re kidding!” Safi gave Raven’s shoulder a shove and, not realizing her own strength, sent the Anderan girl flying off their bunk chest and gliding across the floor. She leapt up and hurried over, offering an open hand. “Sorry,” she said.
