COLDMYTH
Daniel A. Cohen
Book Three of the Coldmaker Saga

Copyright

HarperVoyager

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperVoyager 2020

Copyright © Daniel A. Cohen

Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2020

Cover design and image © Collaboration JS.

Daniel A. Cohen asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008207281

Ebook Edition © March 2020 ISBN: 9780008207274

Version: 2020-01-21

Dedication

To Jardin

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Map

Part One

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Part Two

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Part Three

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Part Four

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-four

Epilogue

Author’s Note

About the Author

Also by Daniel A. Cohen

About the Publisher

Map

PART ONE

Chapter One

The stars looked brighter while I was recruiting.

Pins of light became luminous spears, puncturing the darkness and pointing to the cracks in the barracks walls. Loose stones big enough to crawl through were hard to find on purpose, keeping the passageways secret. I found it impressive that even with the stone boot of the Khat on our backs for eight hundred years, heavy enough to crush granite to sand, some Jadans were always willing to risk death just to sneak out and take a small breath of freedom.

Those particular Jadans were the first to join our cause.

Tilting my head back, I stared into the night sky and drew two fingers down my cheek. My ancestors once used this gesture to honour the World Crier. Tears acknowledged the pain and sacrifice that went into creating something beautiful, something full of life and wonder.

The world was a different place now.

Eight hundred years ago the Great Drought had struck, and the land began to die. Cold, which had always fallen from the sky, began to disappear. Eventually the pieces became so scarce that they only fell in one place – the Khat’s Cry Patch.

Without nourishment from above, the Sun took free rein and burned the land to sand and dust. Animals, plants and entire civilizations withered away under its merciless, scorching power. The Khat claimed he was the only one worthy of relief, and the world had to accept chains of death. Any trace of culture from before the Drought was burned or buried. Songs were silenced. Dancing feet were bound. Even the smallest traditions were stamped out in in order to cleanse the past from the present.

The crying gesture had been one of the many things made illegal after Cold stopped falling for my people.

Shilah looked over at me and mimicked the movement, letting her fingers linger on her cheek. Her knuckles touched her long braid, which hung on the front of her shoulder. Her dark skin had a luminous glow, like it was drinking in the starlight and shining from the inside out.

‘After you, World Partner,’ she said.

I looked down at my left hand, flexing my little invention and stretching the bronze fingers straight. The guiding rings that went around my middle finger tended to slip, but it felt good to once again look down and see the shape of a full hand. Ever since I’d lost the last two fingers I’d felt somewhat incomplete – I couldn’t have them back, but tinkering had at least made me useful again.

I rubbed my metal pinky, checking the friction of the rubber-strip finger pads. The grip was still quite sticky, which let me know I’d picked a good material. I couldn’t tinker as well as I used to, but at least with bronze fingers I could hold the glass chalice during our recruiting ritual.

‘Unless,’ Shilah said, tracing a jagged crack in the barracks wall. Her almond eyes wouldn’t meet mine. ‘Leah holds that position now. How are things with your new shadow, by the way?’

I paused, my stomach clenching tight. ‘You mean how she won’t give me a moment’s peace?’

‘I’m sure you just hate the lingering touches.’

Heat rose into my cheeks. ‘What do you mean?’

She shrugged. ‘I mean she lingers.’

‘She doesn’t linger.’

Shilah turned and tapped my shoulder, her palm gently resting along my collar bone. ‘“Meshua. How does this potion work? Meshua can I help you make that crank-fan? Meshua you’ve made the cave so cold that I wish I had someone to sleep next to.” She’s not even being subtle anymore.’

I turned my concentration back to the barracks wall, searching for any telltale signs of a secret panel. ‘I’ve made it very clear that I’m not interested in her. I’ve got enough to worry – we’ve got enough to worry about with everything – with the cave – and the recruiting and—’

Shilah squeezed my shoulder. ‘Shivers and Frosts, Spout, I was just kidding around. I know.’

I swallowed hard.

She paused, a teasing smirk coming to her lips. ‘But she does linger.’

I chuckled. ‘“Shivers and Frosts,” huh? You’ve been spending too much time with Cam.’

Shilah blushed. ‘It’s not like he invented the saying, and it’s got a nice ring to it. Also, know thy enemy, right?’

I gave her a stern look. ‘Cam is hardly the enemy.’

She looked down at her sandals. ‘I didn’t mean it like that. He’s been teaching me more about Noble life. About his father and brothers, and how those bastards think and what they say. Got to know all the loose bricks in the Pyramid if you want it to come crumbling down.’

‘Poetry.’ I nodded, tapping my knuckles gently across a curious patch of wall.

‘Boy or girl tonight?’ Shilah asked.

I gave her a look. ‘Girl. Definitely.’

‘Why so confident?’

I thought about all the new recruits back in our caverns. We were twenty-six Jadans strong. A true Flock. Still nowhere near close enough to take on the Khat’s army of thousands, but we were at least approaching the numbers we’d need to begin my next Idea.

‘The strongest Jadan I know is a girl,’ I said. ‘And if we’re going to do what we’re planning to do, we need all the strength we can get.’

Shilah paused, facing me and taking my broken hand in hers. She gave the bronze fingers a squeeze, but she wasn’t gentle with the rest of my hand. She knew better then to show me pity. ‘Well then I hope it’s a boy. The most brilliant Jadan I know is a boy.’

I looked away, blushing. A large rectangle of stone seemed to protrude just a hair from the wall. ‘I think we found our spot.’

Shilah glanced up at the stars. ‘Perfect timing, too. The Crying will be happening about now.’

I looked over my shoulder. Wind howled over the cliff, carrying up a light dusting of sand from the desolate land far below. High dunes and Sun-bleached rocks spread as far as the eye could see, in every direction the only sign of life being the odd patch of boilweed now and again.

Just like everywhere outside of Paphos, the land here was dead.

And with dead land came dead spirits.

I thought whispers of Ice might be enough to change things here in the City of David’s Fall. It should have been enough to do something. I’d hoped the rumors would cause rebellion. I hoped word of the miracle material would spread throughout every house, shop and barracks, causing the Jadan people to rise up and toss our oppressors over the same cliff they once forced us over.

My thoughts had proven optimistic.

In the City of David’s Fall, fear ran deeper than hope.

Ever since our battle at the Sanctuary, the Khat’s forces had been showing up in droves. The city had grown tense and overcrowded. Streets teemed with Khatfists and armoured guards, doing everything they could to prove their superiority.

The night air shook with the sounds of cries and lashings, worsening with the arrival of each new Noble caravan. If any Jadan so much as mentioned Ice, the taskmasters would brand their tongues unusable. Most of my people shrank deeper into their shells. Most stepped tighter into line.

Most, but not all.

I nodded for Shilah to join me. The large stone of the barracks gave under my palm. This was the right spot.

Now all we had to do was wait.

Shilah reached into the sheath I had designed and retrieved the blade. It was still strange to see the weapon of the Vicaress without a wreath of flames, or without the merciless blue eyes sizzling behind it.

Abb used to tell me that revenge is an empty journey; that there can be no satisfaction until one has the courage to let go of the past.

The Vicaress stabbed him to death with this very blade.

She’d been killed in return, by the hand of my Flock. And I didn’t regret my revenge.

I only regretted not getting more of it myself.

Shilah sat down at one side of the secret panel, crossing her legs and waving the Vicaress’s blade in front of her face. I took the opposing side, my back hovering right up against the wall. The brick was terribly hot as after being battered by the Sun all day.

We waited patiently. The wind laughed across the nearby cliffs.

The City of David’s Fall was set on a series of plateaus. It struck me as purposeful that the Jadan barracks were usually built as close to the cliffs as possible. Not only would it keep the unworthy masses away from the city centre, but it was a subtle reminder of what happened here the last time our people tried to rebel.

Shilah scraped the blade across the ground and picked up the handful of dirt and sand. She rolled the land around her fingertips and then opened her hand, letting the grit be carried away by the wind.

I pulled out the chalice, staring into my choice of glass – Glassland Green. I owed a great debt to desperation in my journey to becoming an Inventor, but it was quite refreshing to get to use the best things for my work instead of just what I was able to scavenge. For the chalice, I’d needed something that wouldn’t shatter.

‘I hate that we have to scare them,’ I said.

‘I scared the crap out of you at first too. You turned out all right.’

‘You absolutely did not scare me.’

She wrapped an arm around her chest and pretended to shiver. ‘Ahhh, don’t kill me, sand wraith! I don’t know how to get my own invention off!’

I shushed her with a smirk. ‘Quiet. We don’t want to scare anyone back inside.’

She thrust the blade into the ground by her feet, sitting back and closing her eyes.

The wind up here was lovely. The Nobles had been wrong in their placement of the barracks. The air was much more bearable, cool and fresh, and the views were spectacular. This location was a gift.

I relished this time, just Shilah and I, more than anything.

Having so many Jadans look to us as saviours was exhausting. It was nice to get away. I breathed a little easier looking out over dead land and dreaming of a better world. Together.

A sound from inside.

I held a finger to my lips, Shilah and I simultaneously rising to our feet. After a moment the brick scraped backwards. Scabbed hands took its place, grasping at small freedom.

Shilah flattened herself against the wall, which didn’t take much effort as her back was as deadly straight as always. She held the Vicaress’s blade in one hand, a fresh rip of boilweed dangling from the other.

A shock of curly black hair appeared in the opening of the wall. A girl. Perhaps fourteen or fifteen years old, only slightly younger than us. On the back of her neck was the tattoo all Jadans were forced to wear, denoting our barracks and slave number. The ink was always black as a starless night, so it could be read on our dark skin. Her elbows were cracked and ashen, and her ears were rather large for her head. I wondered if she’d already heard us.

We kept flat until the girl crawled out and then turned.

She opened her mouth to scream.

Shilah hopped off the wall, holding out the knife and hissing through her teeth. ‘Make one sound and I use this.’

The girl’s eyes flashed wide. Arms immediately wrapped around her chest in protection.

I hated this method of introduction, but we couldn’t have the girl screaming. Harshness was the quickest path out of the confusion.

Shilah let the blade fall to her side, putting on her most charming smile. ‘I’m just kidding. I would never do that. I’m Shilah. This is Micah. We’re here to change your whole life.’

The girl looked at me. Her face flushed with terror. She was unsteady on her feet, poised to flee.

‘Hello,’ I said, giving her a friendly wave with my damaged hand.

I knew the rumours spoken in the shadows – a Jadan with golden fingers, gifted from the Crier so he could make and touch Ice. I hoped this girl had heard at least some version of the tale.

Fear continued to darken her face.

‘Please. I wasn’t going anywhere,’ the girl said, a lump visible in her throat. Her lips were cracked and bleeding. Her nightly rations were probably withheld. ‘I was just checking for—’

‘Really, we’re not going to hurt you,’ I said. ‘We just have to be private.’

‘I don’t have any figs or anything.’ The girl’s voice was meek; her fingers rubbed her elbows. ‘I never save rations.’

‘What’s your name?’ Shilah asked sweetly. It was not a tone I was used to.

The girl’s eyes flashed to the blade. ‘Whatever will keep me alive.’

Shilah stared at the girl with pinched lips.

‘Cassay,’ the girl said.

Shilah angled the blade to catch more starlight. ‘You recognize this blade, Cassay?’

Cassay thought about it for a second and then nodded. Her curls did not sway with the motion, crusted over with dirt. ‘How’d you get it?’

Shilah gestured to me.

‘Cassay,’ I said, handing over the green glass chalice. ‘Please hold this.’

Cassay kept her arms wrapped around her torn shirt. ‘Why?’

‘Please,’ I said gently.

Eventually she yielded, taking the cup in trembling hands. I tipped my waterskin over the top and filled the glass precisely halfway.

Shilah stepped in front of the girl, slicing off a tiny sliver of abb.

A part of me winced. We only had so many abbs left, and the Coldmaker, the finest invention I’d ever created, couldn’t produce them forever. The machine was dying, and if we didn’t find a Frost to power the charge inside soon, we’d lose what little advantage we had. Abbs may have been the most powerful form of Cold in existence, able to make Ice, but they were finite, like every other piece of Cold.

I wished the recruits could fully understand the honour we were bestowing. These were the last of the abbs we were giving them. Sacrificing power for family; although my father would have said they were the same thing.

Shilah held the abb sliver over the cup between her thumb and forefinger.

‘Cassay,’ Shilah said in a dramatic voice, ‘ever heard of Langria?’

Cassay nodded, the water trembling in the glass. ‘Yes?’

I rested my hands gently beneath Cassay’s. Our first three Jadan recruits had dropped the chalice when witnessing the Ice. And I needed them to feel the Cold instead of just seeing it. The gap between knowledge and understanding could be as wide as the Great Divide.

‘Welcome to real freedom,’ Shilah said.

The fleck of gold dropped into the water.

The reaction was instantaneous.

I’d tried Glassland Blue and Glassland Black for the chalice, but neither could withstand the pressure. I’d thought about just using bronze – to match the Coldmaker, as well as my fingers – but the material needed to be translucent, so our recruits could fully see what was happening.

Crystal arms reached the lip of the glass as the Ice expanded. Shilah and I had to practise the sizing of the slice of abb, making sure it was small enough to ensure there was still some water left to drink.

The girl gasped.

‘You’re them,’ Cassay said, her body ready to collapse. ‘You’re real. I didn’t believe what Hadim was saying, but you’re real.’

‘Drink,’ I said, filing the name ‘Hadim’ away for later. We needed as many recruits as possible. ‘We’re just Jadans, like you.’

‘Drink,’ Shilah echoed. ‘Drink and be free.’

Guiding her shaking hands, I brought the glass up to her lips. Cassay closed her eyes and she sighed with her whole body. It was quite a long moment before she opened them again, tears dotting the corners of her eyes.

She turned her face to the stars.

I imagined they looked brighter.

Chapter Two

A shout from the crowd: ‘Put on the dancing vest!’

I didn’t need to see the mouth to know who it had come from. I cleared my throat, trying not to crack a smile. ‘As I was saying—’

‘The vest! Put it on! You’ll look dashing!’

Shilah glared down off the platform by my side. She also struggled to keep the laughter off her lips. These daily gatherings could get rather bleak, and Cam always tried to infuse the room with laughter. It practically never worked, and tonight I’d hoped he would refrain.

Because tonight’s discussion was going to be different.

We’d reached thirty recruits, and so finally Shilah and I were going to reveal the Idea.

The Idea was something Shilah and I had been working on since we’d taken up residence beneath the city, turning the Coldmarch caverns – once an underground haven for Jadans escaping north – into living quarters for our Flock. This vast space had a source of clean water, and plenty of room for those who needed to heal. It even included my very own tinkershop, isolated from everything else and brimming with materials we’d gathered.

But the new Idea wasn’t something physical, something to be tinkered together. The Idea was to be a shift in our identity. It was a mad dash to the dead-carts in nearly every sense. It was scary, daunting and seemingly impossible.

Which meant we were probably doing the right thing.

One cannot change the world without risk. I used to think differently, until it was time to effect real change. In creating the Coldmaker, even in the relative safety of the Tavor Manor, I had put many lives in danger. First and foremost my own, but more importantly, the lives of Shilah, and Cam and my barracks family.

This Idea would imperil every Jadan in the City of David’s Fall. It would be like collectively ripping all the pages out of the Khat’s Gospels and spitting at the Sun. We would be invoking the wrath of the entire Khatdom, and even if all went well, there was a large chance that many or all of us would die.

Which meant Cam’s outbursts were out of place.

‘Like I was saying,’ I said to the crowd. ‘I know there has been a lot of confusion lately about what we’re actually—’

‘Dashing, I say!’ Cam shouted. ‘Totally dashing!’

A collective murmur of disbelief ran through the crowd. Many of the recruits still didn’t understand why we were hosting a High Noble with blonde hair, fair skin and a silly grin in the first place. A few stunned children looked at their new parents, trying to decide how to react.

Shilah and I thought that the whole idea of ‘parents’ and ‘children’ might dissolve down here in the caves – considering we were all one Flock now – but we’d been proven wrong. Pairs naturally formed. Rebelliousness served as a surprisingly unifying trait around which to build relationships. The younger Jadans looked to the older Jadans for guidance in their dissent. The older Jadans looked to the younger Jadans to be reminded of hope. Family could mean a lot of things. I thanked the Crier every day for putting me in the same barracks as my father, Abb, the best Jadan I’ve ever known.

My smile finally broke. ‘Cam, I’m not going to put on the dancing vest.’

‘No offense, Spout,’ Cam said. He pointed a thin finger toward the beadwork vest, draped over the cone of rock on the platform. ‘But I was talking to Shilah.’

Shilah ran her tongue across her back teeth, her eyes alight. She waved her fist at Cam. ‘I’ll wrap this around your face if you interrupt again, Camlish Tavor.’

‘Anyway,’ I said, stifling a laugh, ‘I know a lot of you have been asking about Langria lately, and why we continue to hide down here instead of continuing the Coldmarch …’

‘Bunch of priss nonsense!’ Ellcia shouted out, her face darkening to the colour of her freckles. ‘Langria ain’t no bettah than what we got. Langria being just stories.’

Ellia gave an affirming nod from behind her sister’s shoulder.

This was a common belief. Even I doubted the existence of Langria, and knew we couldn’t count on the legendary city to help. For all I knew, our Flock was the only community of free Jadans in the entire World Cried, and what mattered was finding more Frosts here in the City of David’s Fall.

‘We’re honouring the Coldmaker,’ Leah shouted out, her fingers dancing through the air in front of her. Whenever she spoke, others went quiet. I was used to her incomparable beauty by now, which included large eyes and a full bottom lip, but I understood how others could still get stunned into silence. ‘We’re honouring you! You’ve saved us all, Meshua.’

Heat rose into my face. I kept my gaze off Shilah. ‘Thank you.’

‘You look Cold, Meshua Shilah!’ Cam called, clapping his hands in a fast beat. ‘If only there were some dancing garment you could put on to help with that. If only there was some way to move your body to warm up, with rhythm and a shaking of the hips.’

Shilah blushed, but there was also a smirk beneath it.

‘You put it on!’ I called back to Cam, feeling slightly annoyed.

We had an Idea to share; something that would change the shape of the fight to come. I wanted to laugh and joke as much as everyone, but now was not the time. There was work to be done.

‘Okay, I will,’ Cam said with a shrug and began nuzzling his way through the crowd. Some of the newer recruits flinched away before he could make contact, hunching tight and returning to their slave stances.

Cam tried to keep his tone light, but his pain was clear every time they shirked away. ‘Make way,’ he said. ‘Amazing dancer coming through. My moves are only accurately described as dangerous and intoxicating. They call me “Old Droughtweed Feet”.’

‘This is serious,’ Shilah said, biting her trembling lip. It looked like anger from afar, but I knew the shaking was from laughter.

Cam stopped next to one of our newest recruits, a bony girl named Rivkah. Cam nudged her with his elbow. ‘That half of Meshua’s pretty attractive when she’s being serious. Am I right?’

Rivkah curled into her slave stance.

Cam slumped even deeper.

‘Camlish!’ This time the shout came from Split the Pedlar, our other resident High Noble. Split had been the one to guide us along the Coldmarch, and I owed him everything. ‘You’re not a part of this, son. Let the Jadans have their moment.’

Split’s doughy belly, thin hair and constant layer of dirt made him more approachable to the recruits than Cam, as Split lacked the stately look common in High Nobles. Still the Flock generally kept their distance from him as well; unless of course they wanted to see Split’s dwarf camel, Picka.

Cam went to say something, his expression defensive, but eventually he slunk away and gave a conceding nod.

‘It’s okay, Split,’ I said. ‘The moment belongs to all of us.’

I turned to Shilah with a go-ahead look.

‘You sure you don’t want to do it?’ she whispered out of the side of her mouth.

I shook my head. ‘You’ll do it better.’

She smirked, keeping her voice down. ‘Because …’

‘Because without you I’d still be tinkering crank-fans in the dark.’

‘Good answer.’ She put a hand around my waist and pulled me against her, the two halves of Meshua coming together as one. Leah shot Shilah a look of pure distain, turning to whisper something to Ellia.

Clearing her throat, Shilah stood a little taller, which I didn’t realize was possible until I looked down at her feet and saw she was standing on her toes.

‘Jadans of the Flock,’ Shilah said. ‘Some of you are new, and some of you have been down here with us for weeks now. We appreciate you leaving your barracks families; for taking a chance on hope. Our Jadan ancestors have been waiting the last eight hundred years for us to be in this position.’ Her face contorted with anger. ‘The whole Khatdom is built on lies!’ She breathed deep and the fire faded just as quickly as it had arrived. ‘Lies that have eroded down, and we’ve already begun to expose the truth beneath. The Nobles tell us that we are unworthy, yet we have a Frost inside the Coldmaker! We have a machine that makes Cold more powerful than anything the Khat has. For the first time since the Great Drought, the Jadan people have Ice. You have all tasted the Ice, and you know what power it holds.’

A collective whisper rushed through the Flock. It was close to a cheer, but not quite there. Everyone was on edge, waiting.

My stomach went tight. I wasn’t ready to admit that our Frost, which powered the Coldmaker, had dwindled down to the size of a Shiver. We’d overworked the holy Cold, and were no longer giving the daily rations of Ice of which Shilah spoke. We’d switched over to using stolen Wisps and Drafts, the two smallest denominations of Cold, to keep everyone alive. The abbs had become ceremonial, only used while recruiting.

Which is why we so desperately needed the new Idea to work. There was no telling how many Frosts were in the Sanctuary. They wouldn’t solve all of our problems, but they would at least buy us plenty of time while I worked on the biggest Idea of all.

Flight.

‘The Nobles tell you that the Crier keeps his Eye closed to us,’ Shilah continued, gesturing around the Coldmarch cave. The stone walls were painted with dozens of Opened Eyes, representing our salvation. ‘But we have been safe within our new home!’ Shilah boomed, making the crying gesture down her cheek. ‘Our numbers continue to grow. Even with all these eyes staring at us, it is the Nobles who cannot see us. The Crier obviously does not want us captured; He wants us to succeed.’

The murmuring grew louder. Cam’s face went slack with awe as he stared. I couldn’t blame him for the admiration. Shilah’s ferocity entranced us all.

‘The decree of unworthiness tells us that we should be tortured and be made to feel like lesser beings,’ Shilah said, her confidence swelling. She unsheathed the flameless blade from her belt and waved it in front of the crowd. ‘But we killed the Vicaress of Paphos and took her weapon. She can’t hurt us any longer.’

‘Mostly because she’s dead,’ Cam added, wiggling his eyebrows but somewhat hushed.

Shilah rolled her eyes but ended the gesture with a wink. ‘And you know what? The Vicaress of David’s Fall will be next.’

A few mouths gasped, but not everyone seemed surprised to see Shilah make such a declaration. Some fists even clenched along with her.

‘Is that the plan?’ Samsah called up, a dark excitement piercing his words. Samsah was a stout Builder, his skin like the underside of a stone at night. He was vocal and proud, constantly trying to prove himself. ‘To kill the Vicaress here?’

‘The sooner that happens the better,’ I interjected, looking over to our weapon wall. I’d heard plenty of stories that claimed this Vicaress was even more unsettling than the one we’d slain, but I’d yet to witness her in person. ‘But the plan is actually much bigger than that.’

Shilah approached the sacred pool, which swirled next to the dancing platform. The pond was moving slowly, unlike when, not too long ago, the whole thing had been forged into Ice. I could still see the black-clad body of the Vicaress sprawled lifelessly across the surface, her terrible blade extinguished. It was one of my favourite memories.

Shilah took one knee. She steeled her jaw and held that very blade over the water.

I gave her a nod to start the reaction.

I’d rigged up a little bit of tinkering on the blade earlier in the day, to give us a small spectacle to go along with the Idea. I’d smeared a thin layer of honey across the metal and then sprinkled it with abb gratings, small enough they kept their form.

Shilah dipped the blade in the water.

The water tinged gold for a moment. The point at which the metal touched the water gaped with colour and crystals, like a beautiful wound. The entire blade was immediately enrobed in a thick layer of Ice.

Shilah struggled to pull the blade back out of the water. She looked to me with a helpless grin, digging her heels into the rock as she strained. I hadn’t known the metal would gather so much Ice – we couldn’t test it earlier, it case the blade broke – and so I went to her side and tried to help her shoulder the weight. We couldn’t lift it, but we were able to slide the huge block of Ice the blade had gathered onto the dancing platform. The metal was now lost deep within a glistening mass the size of a small pyramid stone.

Shilah and I looked at each other, our faces lit up with happy embarrassment. We only intended for the blade to cover itself in a thin layer of Ice so we could shatter the whole thing with a hammer, but there was something wonderful in such small failures. They reminded us we weren’t perfect. We weren’t saviours. I suddenly didn’t feel so heavy.

Shilah wiped her face and stood up, squinting one eye as she thought.

‘As you can see,’ she said, gesturing to the Ice, ‘this is what we are going to do to the Khatdom. Cover them with our might. Show them how something that only seems like a few specks can still have real power.’

I stood by her side, impressed by how quickly she’d come up with something believable.

Excited chatter sprouted across the cave.

‘The plan is,’ Shilah said, reading the crowd, ‘we’re going to take the City of David’s Fall, and with it, every Frost hidden here.’

The Flock went silent.

‘What does that mean?’ Samsah asked.

‘It means,’ Shilah said, ‘with more Frosts come more Coldmakers. So we’re going to drive out the Nobles. All of them. And take their Cold.’

Cam bristled.

Shilah cracked her knuckles. ‘Almost all of them. As you know, Split and Cam are most valuable to our Flock.’

Another murmur. Cam looked at his feet, his cheeks going red.

‘How are we to do such a thing?’ Samsah asked. ‘We are yours to command to the death, Meshuas, but how do we drive them out? There are at least five hundred Nobles in the city, including all of the Khat’s forces from Paphos. Even with the Hookmen—’

‘We have no Hookman,’ Shilah said, glaring. ‘We only have the Five.’

A shudder ran through the cave.

The Five stood off to the side, silent as usual. They were once the most trusted guard to the Vicaress of Paphos, and even though they had betrayed her and turned to our side most of the Flock still didn’t trust them. Behemoth frames and Closed-Eye brands on their foreheads didn’t help. I was beginning to understand the Five as Jadans, and not as monsters, but many still saw them as the nightmares our parents warned us about should we wander too far from obedience.

‘I’m working on a few things,’ I said, gesturing to the tinkershop tunnel. ‘And it’s going to come down to convincing everyone’s old barracks to rise up when the time comes. There may be five hundred Nobles in the city, but there are twice as many Jadans, and sometimes it’s not only about bigger numbers. One Chill is as Cold as a hundred Wisps. One storm can shift a hundred dunes.’

Abb used to tell me that. I always listened to his words, but only recently have I begun to understand them.

‘Within the next week,’ I continued, ‘we will be taking the Sanctuary. After that, we’ll take the city itself. We have the Wraiths, and when we liberate the Frosts from the Sanctuary, we will have all sorts of new power. If there’s any Jadan in here who doesn’t want to fight for that power, don’t be ashamed, because there’s plenty to do here in the cave—’

‘If there’s any Jadan in here who doesn’t want to fight,’ Shilah said, her face going stern and her voice as Cold as a hundred Wisps, ‘it must be because they have forgotten what life is like outside of the Flock. The fear. The beatings. Gasping for Cold as the Sun burns you to the bones, the Nobles lighting up Droughtweed and laughing at our pain.’

My stomach tightened. I didn’t want to force the Flock to put their lives in danger, but we needed as many of them as we could get to fight. Our situation was difficult to say the least, and a single warrior could mean the difference between victory and defeat.

Single fingers are good for poking, but only together can they make a fist – another one of Abb’s sayings.

‘Is there anyone here that won’t fight with us?’ Shilah asked.

No one made a sound. Not even the youngest recruits.

‘Good,’ Shilah said, her jaw sleek and defined. ‘I only ask out of love. Love for our people and for the Crier. And I promise, when the time comes, we’ll be ready.’ She made the crying gesture down her cheek, which the Flock returned in unison. ‘For now, Micah and I have work to do.’

And then with a heave, she kicked the handle of the blade, the block of Ice sliding into the water. She kissed me on the cheek and then stepped off the platform, manoeuvring into the crowd. Cam cut her off before she could get far, giving her the first hug. She seemed self-concious in his grip, but eventually she squeezed back, her hand cupping the bottom of his golden hair. She held on for longer than normal.

The crowd turned to each other and embraced with feverish holds. I stepped off the platform and returned all the waves and worried smiles sent my way. Leah began to rush towards me, and I quickly looked around the room.

Dunes, my ally and friend, broke free of the other Five. He rolled his shoulders together and bent his knees, making his massive frame as small as possible. He always walked around the cave like this so as not to intimidate, even though it never worked. The other Five remained in place on the side as always, waiting for my command.

Dunes rushed onto the platform and embraced me. He smelled like sweat and sand, and had the intense musk I found only in older Jadans. His arms were much broader than my father’s, by for a moment I could pretend.

‘Hold on!’ Samsah yelled, clapping his hands for attention and breaking the din. ‘I’m sorry. I’m not trying to undermine you in any way Meshua, both Meshuas, but someone has to say this. What about the last time the Jadans tried to hold this city? Are we forgetting about the Fall itself? Right now we have Cold and food and a semblance of freedom. Shouldn’t we protect this beautiful thing. We have our own, little version of Langria down here.’

Shilah turned to me and gave a wry smile.

I had a feeling someone was going to bring this up. We encouraged the Flock to speak their minds.

‘It’s a good point,’ I said, stepping back up on the platform. I kept my voice soft, as Split had taught me, to get people to really listen. ‘But it will be different this time. Back then the Khat had a weapon that he used to boil the land. Desert. He planted it outside of the walls.’

‘Do we think that, or actually know that?’ Samsah asked.

‘It’s the only explanation that makes sense,’ Shilah said, holding up Split’s copy of the Book of the March: the one with all the prophecies and secrets the Jadan people had gathered over the centuries. ‘For now we have to have faith.’

‘And what happens if he uses the Desert weapon again?’ Samsah asked. ‘Do we really need more Frosts that badly?’

‘Yes. We Do.’ I took a deep breath. ‘And if the Khat tries to use Desert again, I could get a hold of some, then I could study it. If I figure out how it works we can use it against him.’

Samsah absently rubbed his hand over his forearm, which was thick with scars. The Builders always had rough skin. ‘And if we all burn in the process?’

Dunes came to my defense. ‘Then we burn together.’

‘Then we burn together, priss!’ Ellcia cackled. ‘But no worrying because we won’t burn.’

Leah slunk her way to my side, her hand resting gently on my lower back, sending a shiver up my spine.

‘And we all believe that you’ll succeed,’ she cooed.

I put my hand over hers and patted in a friendly manner. I still couldn’t really look at her directly, as her skin was like smooth chocolate and her hair was thick as yarn. I had to be the most cautious when looking at her eyes. Light green: the colour of life itself. So seductive they could heat me up to the point of melting.

‘Weapons?’ Samsah asked hopefully. ‘The Wraith weapons, is that how we will win?’

‘Yes,’ I said, looking away.

‘And they are strong enough to—’

‘Leave him alone, Samsah!’ Leah lashed. ‘This boy – the beautiful Meshua! – is responsible for the Coldmaker. For showing you Ice and freedom. You owe him blind allegiance.’

Shilah almost gagged.

Samsah lowered into a bow. ‘Of course. And he has it. I just thought a bit of perspective from someone a little more … experienced might be welcome.’

‘And what experience do you have tinkering miracles?’ Leah asked, her voice like a whip with a dozen tails. She lowered her hand to a dangerous position on my back, her nails digging into my skin.

Samsah quickly backed down. ‘Apologies. I feel ashamed for—’

‘It’s okay, it’s good,’ I said, tapping Leah’s hand for release, which did nothing in the way of getting me released. ‘We should all speak our minds. Part of the Opened Eye is seeing the world from other perspectives.’

‘Divine,’ Leah said, hand going up and teasing the back of my neck. ‘You really are the Crier’s son, aren’t you?’

My stomach crawled with heat, sinking downward.

Shilah came over and yanked me from Leah’s grasp, putting her arm around my shoulder and leading me away.

‘Like I said,’ Shilah began, angling towards the tinkershop tunnel, ‘we have work to do.’

‘Can I come?’ Cam asked.

‘You never need an invitation,’ I said.

‘Actually I think Micah and I need some alone time.’ Shilah winked at me. ‘World Partner to World Partner.’

Leah scowled.

Cam sagged into himself. ‘That’s okay. I have some reading to do anyway.’

Shilah and I made our way through the crowd, members of the Flock stopping to declare their allegiance or congratulate us on a fine plan. To their credit, not a single Jadan told us they wouldn’t fight.

Shilah and I were nearing the tunnel to the tinkershop when I stopped and squeezed back towards the Five. Their need for formality still never sat right in my stomach, but they always insisted. I couldn’t have them standing menacingly in the corner, not so much as moving their chests to breathe.

‘Dismissed,’ I said, bowing to them.

The Five bowed back in unison.

‘By your command,’ they said together.

Then they snapped out of attention, breaking rank.

Even though I was closest with Dunes, Jia was the first to scoop me into a hug, his thick belly getting in the way of skinny arms. He’d been the most rotund of the Hookmen to begin with, but since coming to the cave he’d filled out to quite the impressive size. He always offered to share the candied figs he got on raids, but none outside of the Five or I ever wanted to eat with him.

‘Micah, you delightful genius,’ Jia said. His voice jiggled nearly as much as his haunches. ‘The crumbling of the Khatdom is near.’

‘We can’t get overconfident.’

Jia released me and I took a deep breath. He smelled like roasted honey.

Het, the second shortest of the Five, put a hand over his heart and made one of the many secretive warding gestures he knew; smuggled over from the other side of the Drought. ‘I will give you all the wards I know. The protection of the Ancestors will be upon you.’

‘Thank you.’ I didn’t quite believe in the mystical sort of inventing, but still I said: ‘I’ll need them.’

Kasroot stepped up next, holding out a greasy lump. ‘Want some soap?’

These weren’t insults like I had originally thought. To Kasroot, cleanliness and hygiene were signs of divinity: a gift from the Crier. Especially in Jadans. The first time we’d spoken – after he did his part to kill the Vicaress and then pledged his life to me – he’d offered me a sprig of Khatmint to rub over my teeth.

I took the soap. ‘Thank you, Kasroot.’

Cleave gave a small twitch of his neck that I took as a respectful greeting. He was the strongest, fastest and tallest of the Five. Dunes told me he’d made a vow not to speak until he saw the holy land of Langria. I had a feeling his voice was too deep for normal ears to hear; like the sky before a sandstorm.

Dunes reached out and touched my bronze fingers; the ones replacing the ruined flesh I’d commanded Dunes to cut off.

‘Every day I regret this,’ he said. ‘And every day I’m proud that you chose me to do it.’

I moved the brass digits with the ring around my middle finger. It was the next best thing to real, and considering the Cold accident that had burned the two smallest fingers on that hand, I was just grateful I still had so much of my original hand left. ‘Well they were only getting worse, and since someone had to stop the infection from spreading,’ I said, staring up at the long scar on Dunes’ cheek, ‘I’m glad it was friend.’

Dunes stepped back and gave a bow so low that anyone else would have toppled. ‘I’ll take this city for you myself. I’ll maim every Noble and bring you their fingers as tribute.’

‘I know you will.’ I smiled.

Kasroot reached into a pocket and removed the pumice rock he used for scraping away dead skin. He tried to hand that over as well, but I politely declined.

‘Micah!’ Shilah called, waving me back over.

I gave the Five another bow. As I turned, I glanced at the swirling pool. The block of Ice floated on top, a glint of steel buried deep at its core.

Chapter Three

My tinkershop kept me from going mad.

The place had everything I needed. Space to experiment. Thick walls that kept the clangs and churning confined. And enough materials that I could attempt inventing whatever idea called to me.

Best of all, however, was that the tinkershop had solitude.

I’d come to realize that time alone was as important to inventing as the materials themselves.

I had initially done all my tinkering out in the main chamber, set up so everyone could see and help. The Flock had watched me at my craft, and I’d answered questions about materials while I worked. I’d tinkered special requests like crank-fans and indulged Leah’s constant distractions of lounging beside my worktables and offering to hold things for me. Asking me if there was anything I wanted to hold of hers.

I was able to get about an hour’s worth of tinkering done each day.

After the first few weeks, I felt drained, disillusioned, and with my ideas waning with every moment my hands were idle. The confidence in me had congealed to insecurity. Everything felt as hollow as the passageways. Some days my chest was so tight that I couldn’t breathe, having to lay on my back and force my lungs to find air. I’d thought maybe it was a leftover sickness from the time in my life addled by Droughtweed smoke, but the episodes always subsided when I found my space. I had to turn Cam and Shilah down on multiple scouting missions, claiming I had to work on the Coldmaker, when really I was just filled with unrecognizable dread.

So one day I strapped the Coldmaker bag around my shoulder, took a few figs from the communal barrel, and headed out tired and deflated to explore the caverns without saying a word to anyone.

I came back with a plan.

Within hours, Cam and the Five had helped move everything through the damp caverns and into my new tinkershop. Metals, trinkets, vials, clay urns, gears, scrolls and countless other baubles salvaged during the night. Everyone knew where I’d gone, but the Flock respected me enough to let me pretend it was a secret.

I was able to disappear, and through the solitude, find myself once again.

Today’s session in the tinkershop started off as most others did, although how it ended would hold much more weight. In a few hours’ time, the Flock was either going to take the Sanctuary or end up back in chains.

I just hoped my Wraiths would be enough.

I began with my morning ritual of sawing chunks of salt crystals from the walls. The crystal cones were a beautiful pink, and didn’t release without a fight. I ground the salt down in my churning wheel or powder bowl, and the repetitive motion helped centre me. Often my best ideas came while I was churning salt, but right now I wasn’t searching for ideas so much as courage.

The Wraiths were ready. And they were the most vicious piece of tinkering I’d ever done.

The Crier help whoever got in their way.

Shilah entered the tinkershop, pushing aside the two shields that I’d bound end to end to form a door across the fissure. It was the only entrance or exit to my secret space. The shields were heavy and thick, useful for keeping sound inside.

I turned back to the salt wall, sawing another piece. There had been Opened Eyes painted on the crystals when I’d discovered the room, and I made sure never to defile any salt chunks with the symbol on them.

‘How you feeling?’ Shilah asked.

I gritted my teeth, the muscles in my arm straining. ‘Truthfully?’

‘I didn’t know you and I spoke anything else. Just tell me, Spout.’

I breathed a little easier at the sound of my old name. The teeth of the saw caught halfway through the salt. ‘I’m terrified.’

‘You stormed the Sanctuary once before,’ she said. ‘To try and rescue a certain someone. Someone who was in the process of rescuing herself, but was grateful for your timing nonetheless.’

I didn’t turn around. I was in no mood to joke. Smiling was a window, and I wanted to keep my fear hidden from everyone, including her.

Shilah came across the tinkershop and laid a hand on my shoulder. Her touch felt different from anyone else’s. There was no jolt of dangerous excitement like I got from Leah, but this was somehow better. Shilah wasn’t pressing into me. She was taking away some of the weight.

‘We’re going to win,’ she said. ‘Those bastards will never see it coming. And the Five are all eager to fight. Imagine Cleave barrelling down on you with a Wraith in front of him.’

‘That would actually scare me.’

Shilah squeezed me playfully in the shoulder. ‘The whole Flock is ready, and there can’t be more than fifty Nobles still in the Sanctuary, not with all those rumours we’ve been spreading. The guards are starting to give up and get confused, thinking that we’ve escaped to Marlea. Last time Cam and I went out, we saw—’

‘When was that?’ I asked, trying not to sound sullen. It was my own fault for not going, as I’d turned them down the last few times. But I had to work on the Wraiths.

‘Two days ago,’ she said.

‘You take Jia with you?’

‘Kasroot actually. He’s better at the sneaking. All that nervousness makes him extra careful.’

‘That’s good.’

Shilah paused. ‘What are you scared of?’

‘I’m not scared about the Sanctuary,’ I said, idly gesturing to the three stout Wraiths in the centre of the room. ‘We’re going to win.’

Shilah went over and ran her hand along the reinforced sides of the Wraiths. The design wasn’t terribly complex, but it was effective. More or less they were large transportable basins, able to spray out a terrible bit of alchemy. I’d covered the interior clay chamber with steel in case the Nobles tried to shoot at them with arrows. Clay could shatter. Steel would not. I almost chiselled Opened Eyes into the metal like I’d done with the Coldmaker, but decided against it. The Opened Eye was a symbol of hope and paradise. The Wraiths were symbols of pain and agony.

I kept sawing the salt.

‘Meshua,’ she said.

I turned around slowly, wiping my forehead, saw dangling by my side. Shilah never called me that, especially since we tried so hard to keep the Flock from seeing us in that light. I squeezed the handle of the saw tighter, a dense rock settling into my stomach.

‘Is that what you want?’ Shilah asked. ‘To be the legendary child of the World Crier? The invincible warrior that was sent here by prophecy to free our people?’

I swallowed hard. ‘No. You know that.’

‘Well then who do you want to be?’

‘Me.’ I leaned over the nearest table and rested my body weight on my knuckles. I finally let out a sigh that had been building over the long, sleepless night. ‘I just want to be me.’

Shilah came to my side. ‘So be you.’

‘But—’

She took my cheeks in her hands and made me stare her in the eyes. ‘Meshua is just a story, Spout. Just a pretty story to make us feel like there’s an ending to our suffering. It gives people comfort, but it also made them believe that someone is coming to save them. But you and I both know the only way our people are going to get free is if we save ourselves. It’s obvious that the Crier, real or not, hasn’t been able to intervene. Eight hundred years has made that very clear. Meshua isn’t real. You are real.’

‘Real can fail.’

‘Yes,’ she said, plucking at my lip with her thumb. ‘But a story has no chance of success in itself. Words can’t lift a single grain of sand. Stories can change people, but it’s only people who can manifest change.’

I lifted an eyebrow.

Shilah shrugged, giving me a guilty smirk. ‘Cam’s been having me read some of the old philosopher texts we found in the—’

‘But if we fail – not at the Sanctuary, but if …’ I felt my hands begin to shake. ‘You know what can happen as much as I do.’

Shilah took my hands and gave them a squeeze.

‘I assume you’re talking about the extermination of our people.’

I nodded. ‘Things are balanced for now. Terrible, but balanced. At least we exist. At least the Khat keeps us alive.’

‘Don’t you forget where you come from. Don’t forget like the others.’

I pulled up my shirt to reveal all the scars from when the Vicaress had tortured me. Shilah had saved me that night, and if not for her I’d be dead.

‘I know where you come from,’ Shilah said. ‘Just checking that you do to.’

‘When we win,’ I said, ‘when we take the Sanctuary and show our strength, the Khat’s not just going to roll over and accept our victory. He’s going to fight with everything he has. He’s going to send armies from all across the Khatdom, calling on forces we don’t even know about. He’s going to use every trick the Nobles have learned since the Drought. He’s got far better inventors than me in the Pyramid, and worse of all, he’s going to take it out on our families. You know that, right? He’s going to send his taskmasters into our old barracks and slaughter our families by the hundreds. To draw us out and make us collapse with grief.’

Shilah gave a hard nod. ‘I’m aware.’

‘He doesn’t need to keep any of the Jadan people alive,’ I said softly. ‘That’s the sad truth. He could kill every single Jadan, wipe us out, and the world would go on. Cold will still fall for him. Yes, the Nobles would have to do all the hard work in the Patches, and building the monuments, but that might be a sacrifice he’s willing to make. The Khat’s Anthem has a point. We only survived because of his mercy.’

‘Sun-damn screw the Khat’s Anthem,’ Shilah spat. ‘I’ve never even sung it.’

‘How is that possible?’

‘I don’t know, maybe I have. The point is that, yes, he could exterminate us all.’

‘And that doesn’t terrify you? That our small little Flock, started by me and you, might end up destroying the entire Jadan race?’

Shilah’s eyes sparkled with intensity. ‘Scares me to my bones.’

‘So then what if we fail?’

‘Exactly, we. What if we fail. You have me to lead beside you,’ Shilah said. ‘All this time I’ve been trying to get it through to you that you’re not alone.’ She toyed with her braid. ‘I thought Cam was the one with the thick skull.’

I kept my face flat. ‘He does have a big head.’

Shilah smiled, a secret begging to come off her lips.

‘What?’ I asked.

She glanced over her shoulder and then back. ‘What if we win? What if we’re the ones who end the Drought?’

‘I don’t know how to end the Drought.’

‘How many Frosts are in the Sanctuary you think?’ she asked.

‘Split thinks dozens. Maybe none, though.’

‘Even if it was only a few. Imagine having more Coldmakers while we figure out how to fly! Abbs everywhere, cooling water, and making gardens so big that we could all finally grow some fat on our bones. We could take in hundreds of runaways. The rest of the Jadans across the Khatdom would look at us, at our stand, and wonder how. Wonder why. How long has it been since our people have had something to wonder about? Terrible answers have been forced down our throat for so long, that we forget how to hunger for truth.’

‘Another old philosopher?’

‘Hell no.’ Shilah slapped her stomach, the firm skin resounding with a flat sound. ‘From the gut.’

‘You’ve thought this through.’ I scraped the salt on the pillar with my bronze finger and then brought it to my tongue. The tip stung. ‘I hope you’re right.’

‘When have I not been? And besides, you don’t think the Jadans of Langria didn’t worry about the same thing? About provoking the Khat? And they’re still there, still fighting.’

‘We don’t know anything about Langria.’

Shilah crossed her arms over her chest. ‘Excuse me, tinkerer, but I believe I created my own Little Langria once. You were there.’ Her eyebrow raised playfully. ‘You don’t remember the taste of my Khatmelon?’

I threw my hands up in defeat. ‘Right again.’

‘Damn right.’

At last, ease in my stomach. ‘You always know what to say to calm me down.’

She slapped me lightly on the cheek, leaving her hand to linger. ‘Enjoy it while you can. Tonight I set you ablaze. I want to see the Micah who trapped a hundred sick bastards into a room and Iced over their dead bodies.’

‘Can you kiss me?’

The words came out before I could think about their impact. I went stiff, but Shilah didn’t so much as flinch. It had been quite some time since we’d explored anything in the realm of romance, and it wasn’t something I dwelled over. There were too many other, bigger concerns to worry over.

‘Sorry,’ I said, heat rising to my cheeks. ‘It’s just that—’

Shilah shrugged like it was no big deal. ‘Of course I can kiss you.’

She leaned in and pressed her lips against mine. Her mouth was cold and wet, as if she’d just drank her rations. Our lips took a moment to stop sliding about before they held firm. She pressed hard, her hands coming to the back of my head and scraping through my hair, her fingernails massaging my scalp.

After a moment we parted and looked deep into each other’s eyes.

Then we began laughing.

It was simple laughter; of recognition; of connection. The chuckles came from our hearts more than our mouths, and it was a wonderful moment.

I didn’t feel a thing.

It appeared that neither did she.

I took her hands again in mine and gave them a powerful squeeze. ‘I really am so lucky to have you.’

‘I’m the lucky one. Also, I think Cam’s outside,’ she whispered. ‘Want to call him in so he doesn’t feel left out?’

‘Cam!’

Silence.

‘How do you know he’s out there?’

Shilah gave me an obvious sort of look.

‘Cam!’ I called, giving her hands one final squeeze before letting them go. ‘You can come in!’

A crown of golden hair popped around the shield-door. Cam kept his gaze averted as he entered, looking around wildly. I could see the pain in his eyes. There was unsteadiness in his step. He must have heard what we’d done.

‘Bigger in here then I remember,’ he said, surveying the decoy boxes, voice boomers, Cold-Charged clay urns, and every other thing I was in the process of tinkering. None were as impressive and menacing as the Wraiths.

‘Is it?’ I asked.

He nodded, whistling a soft tune and gently slapping a fist into his open palm.

‘What’s going on Cam?’ I asked, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

Shilah took another step away.

‘Just figured the three of us should have a quiet moment together.’ He ambled about the workshop, his movements rather awkward. ‘A lot’s about to change.’

He stopped at the nearest table to pick up a half-filled vial and examine the contents. He looked at the venom inside with a studious expression.

‘For the Stingers,’ I explained. ‘Going to top them off before tonight.’

He picked up one of the Stingers – one of my old weapon designs, more or less a dagger that could inject poison – by the long handle, examining the triangular blades at the end. Scorpions were more than plentiful in the damp, sprawling Coldmarch caves, and so I had enough poison to make a Stinger for every fighter in the Flock. The design was simple enough, back from the times in my youth when efficiency and ingenuity were the only things in large supply. But simple didn’t mean ineffective. Stingers could deliver a lethal dose of poison: their blades were sharp and their springs were tight.

‘So are you ready?’ Shilah asked. ‘There might be other High Nobles in the Sanctuary. Other Tavors.’

Cam gave Shilah a pained look. He put the weapon back down. ‘I probably shouldn’t have intruded. You two have the quiet moment and just find me later if you want.’

I wanted to say something to reassure him. To remind him that Leroi, the High Noble who’d taken me in and taught me how to be an Inventor, the one who’d died holding off the Vicaress so we could escape, was a Tavor.

I was about to open my mouth but Shilah beat me to action. She stormed through the tinkershop and grabbed Cam by the arm. ‘Get your bony butt over here, you whiny baby. You know I didn’t mean it like that.’

Cam looked down at his feet, his face red.

Shilah yanked him closer to where I was standing, sighing as she pulled. ‘I’m sorry. I apologize. I’ll make it up to you later.’

I could see the lump forming in Cam’s throat.

I lit a candle and filled three chalices with water, dropping a Wisp into each from our stockpile of Cold. The abbs were now too precious to use for drinking. I wished we could use Cold crossbows in the upcoming battle, like when we stormed the Sanctuary the first time, but considering the Frost’s shrinking stature, it seemed like the poor Coldmaker might only be capable of making a few dozen abbs more. We couldn’t stall any longer; we had to take the Sanctuary not only so we’d have another stronghold – one that could fit a lot more Jadans – but to harvest the Frosts hidden somewhere in its depths.

‘To a quiet moment,’ I said, lifting my chalice.

Shilah gave me a playful nudge with her elbow. ‘You can do better than that, Micah. Just think where we were a year ago. Just think about how the future free Jadans will celebrate our gathering.’

‘Then to a quiet moment with my closest friends,’ I said, tipping the cup towards Cam. ‘Who happen to be my family.’

‘Thank you,’ Cam said softly, staring at his feet.

I didn’t remember him ever being so distant. He’d been respecting my tinkering space ever since I told him I’d been working on something big. I tried to recall the last time Cam and I had spent time together and came up blank. He and Shilah had been spending most of the last week in disguise, inviting me out to ransack the city for materials, and I’d been a terrible friend, telling them to stay away.

‘Cam,’ I said, ‘I’m glad you’re here.’

He gave me a tentative look, pushing the golden rim glasses back up his nose. ‘Yeah?’

‘I was going to come find you anyway,’ I said, nodding towards the centre of the tinkershop. ‘I’m putting you in charge of one of the Wraiths. One for me, one for Shilah, and one for you.’

He cocked his head to the side. ‘I’m honoured. But I don’t even know how they work. I figured you were putting the Five in charge of them.’

‘Remember I told you I had that idea about enhancing the Cold Charges?’ I asked. ‘Or at least trying to.’

‘Of course,’ he said, looking away.

Clearly I’d forgotten to tell him. I wanted to kick myself for not celebrating the breakthrough with him sooner, especially since I’d figured out something that not even his cousin Leroi could.

‘I figured out how to make the Charge stronger,’ I said. ‘And turn it into a weapon.’

Cam gestured towards the three Wraiths. I nodded.

‘Sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. I should have given you more warning so you could practice, but I don’t think you’ll need it. They’re easy enough to use.’

Cam looked to Shilah for reassurance, and she gave him an excited nod.

‘It was always the plan,’ she said. ‘That’s kind of why I made that bad joke.’

‘Really?’

‘Really.’

‘I get to lead one of the secret weapons?’ he asked.

‘You were good with that Cold crossbow last time,’ I said, severity taking away all semblance of humour. We hadn’t talked much about the battle at the Sanctuary, and I wondered if Cam had been having an easier time than me processing it all. Those bastards deserved it for what they did to Shilah, but the ability to viciously kill was a serious thing to find out about yourself. ‘So if you think you can handle it.’

He straightened up and puffed out his chest. ‘Absolutely I can.’

Hurrying over to the middle Wraiths, he ran his hand over the front hose coming out of the body. The hose ran about an arm’s length and ended in a custom nozzle. ‘How does it work?’ He slid a finger across the inside of the nozzle and immediately let out a yelp. His whole body jerked. Reflexively, he went to put the burning finger in his mouth, but Shilah was already next to him, catching him by the wrist.

‘You don’t want to do that,’ she said.

Cam’s face clenched with pain. He stared at his finger, dancing back and forth between feet. ‘Shivers and F-frosts that hurts! It’s – it’s – it stings. It’s melting me!’

I rushed over to him. A clean piece of boilweed and the antidote vial were already out for exactly this. I wiped his finger dry with the boilweed – he winced and grimaced at the pressure – and then I smeared on my special mixture of groan salve, oil and wax. It took many burning splotches on my arms and legs to figure out a correct mixture to quell the sensation. My antidote didn’t take away the burn fully, but it dulled the sensation to a throb.

Shilah let Cam’s wrist go. She brought the slimy finger to her face to investigate.

‘What just happened?’ he asked.

‘Feel better?’

He met my eyes. ‘I’m fine. That was really painful. How’d you invent burning water? You mix in that scorpion venom?’

I waved Cam over to my clay urns where I’d had my breakthrough with the Cold Charge. I lifted the lid off one of the urns, but placed my hand against Cam’s chest as he leaned in to take a closer look. I’d learned the hard way that the fumes burned something fierce.

‘Really all I did was continue Leroi’s work,’ I pointed to the bowls of crushed pink salt next to the urns. Leroi used only white salts to mix when experimenting with Cold, but I don’t think colour had anything to do with it. It’s all salt in the end. ‘Okay, so remember how the Cold Charge works? The salt dissolves in the water first and then the Cold dissolves next. But they fight each other, right? Since they’re opposites. Salt being a product of death and Cold life, the mixture collecting the energy?’

Cam nodded, keeping his finger by his side. He kept twitching, and I could tell he wanted to nurse it. My skin had been sore for days after my testing.

‘Remember how Leroi had hit a point where the Charge couldn’t get stronger?’ Shilah asked.

‘Yes,’ Cam said, tapping his bottom lip. ‘Fifty-six Wisps. Thirty-five Drafts. Thirteen Shivers. Five Chills.’

I thought my jaw might hit the ground. ‘You remember the exact number?’

Cam shrugged, rapping his knuckles against his head. ‘Thick skull. It traps things I overhear.’ He wouldn’t meet my eyes. ‘Anyway. I’m guessing you dissolved in a full abb, and that’s why the Charge bites like a Sobek?’

Shilah gave him an impressed look.

I put the lid back on the urn. My nostrils were starting to burn. ‘How’d you know?’

‘I’ve learned a lot from you both,’ he said. ‘And that seems like something you would do, Spout.’

‘You’ve got a smudge, and you’re going to need to see this.’ Shilah took Cam’s glasses off his nose and removed a fresh rip of boilweed from her pocket, giving the lenses a polish. Cam held still but didn’t seem surprised, as if this wasn’t the first time she’d done this.

‘You’re exactly right,’ I said, going over to the table where I tinkered the bulbs for the Sinais – the lights that needed no fire, and ran on only the Charge. The table was covered in wicks, glass and raw materials, ready to be tinkered together. I grabbed a Sinai bulb already fastened on the long copper rod. ‘I dissolved in the abb, and it pushed the Cold Charge over the edge. I was originally going to try and use this new blend to power all sorts of inventions, but when I tried …’

I nodded to Shilah who slid the lid off the urn. I let the copper rod hover over the opening, careful not to touch metal to liquid. The fumes alone were potent enough.

The Sinai light sprung to life, bright and blinding.

‘Shivers and Frosts,’ Cam said, shielding his eyes. ‘What happens if you put the copper rod in the water directly?’

I nodded to Shilah who passed out a few pairs of tinted eyewear. She always seemed to know what I was going to ask her to do before I did. Next I strapped a pair of thick boilweed gloves over my hands.

‘Watch yourselves,’ I said, shoving the rod in the liquid.

The light became bright as Sun itself. It burned inside the glass, orange and white teeth gnashing their way out. Our eyewear was barely enough protection to keep from wincing, and after a moment the glass bulb cracked in half, fire shooting up from the filament.

I yanked the copper rod away from the water and everything calmed.

Shilah slid the lid back over the urn.

‘Wow,’ Cam said, taking off his glasses. ‘Wow.’

Shilah took her protection off as well. Char smattered on her cheek. Cam eyed it, his hand moving as to wipe it away. He thought twice, keeping his hand to himself, looking at his finger with regret.

I cocked my head to the side.

And then realization fell like a slab careening off the top of the Pyramid. It bashed me over the head.

How had I not noticed until now?

I was clearly the one with the thick skull.

‘And so the – Wraith,’ Cam said, looking away. ‘It holds a lot of the Charged water?’

I had to shake myself back to reality, my head fuzzy with embarrassment. ‘Yes. Wraith. Water.’

We all moved to the centre of the room. My legs were a bit unsteady, but not from fumes. I pointed to the different parts of the Wraith as I explained what they did, but my voice was droning. I couldn’t focus, too busy sifting through memories to see if there were any signs that I’d missed.

It was so obvious.

‘So the Charged water sits in the main body here,’ I choked out, tapping the reinforced clay. ‘The pump here on top has a tight plunger that lets in air one way and then compresses it into the body of the Wraith, into the water, and creates pressure. It can get pretty intense, since it’s airtight after I sealed the holes with Dybbuk grease. The hose in front has a lever on top here that releases the pressure and shoots the water out of the spout.’

‘Spout,’ Cam chimed with a smile.

‘Hmm?’ I asked, blinking a few times. ‘What?’

‘Your name,’ Cam said.

‘Oh right. Anyway, it’s all pretty simple.’ I pointed to the bottom of the Wraith, at the legs on bearings and springs, each sitting on wheel on the end. I’d made the wheels double-tiered and wide as possible, with rope nettling in between to spread out the weight over sands.

How did I not know about Cam and Shilah’s feelings for each other?

‘I put four spring-assisted legs on each Wraith so we can wheel them easier and quieter. They’re quite heavy.’

‘And how far can they shoot?’ Cam asked, wincing as he touched his finger.

‘It’s good,’ I said, missing his question. ‘Oh, they can fire the water about a hundred or so paces. And sorry you got some on you, but it’s probably better you know what it feels like.’

‘I’ve been shocked by it too,’ Shilah said, lifting up her shirt and revealing her stomach. There were patches of angry skin where she’d rubbed the Wraithwater away.

‘Oh no,’ Cam said, his face twisting with horror. He reached out to touch her but stopped at the last second, giving me a furtive glance. ‘I’m so sorry.’

Shilah gave a cool shrug, not looking my way either. ‘It’s okay. I wanted to know.’

I nearly collapsed into the nearest chair.

How had I missed the signs?

I cleared my throat. ‘The blast doesn’t last particularly long, ten seconds at most before it needs to be pumped again. But even if enemy has taken cover, or they have shields in front of them and we can’t fight them with arrows or swords, there’s really no way for them to protect themselves against the Wraithwater. And the shock doesn’t stop. I don’t know at what dose it’s lethal yet, but the burning can last for hours, only getting worse without the antidote. I imagine the Khat will hear Noble screams in Paphos.’ I pointed to the end of the hose, where I’d put the metal mesh cap that flips over the nozzle. ‘This is if you need to spread the stream.’

Cam nodded. ‘This is going to be quite the weapon.’

‘Only if necessary,’ I said, my throat burning. ‘I don’t want to use it unless we have to. But we might have to. We can’t lose.’

Shilah put a hand on Cam’s lower back. ‘Only if necessary.’

Another of Cam’s fingers went inside the hose, gathering up some Charged residue.

Shilah went to stop him. ‘Idiot! What are you—’

Cam waved her off, closing his eyes. He brought his finger out, his cheeks shaking as he stared at the burning skin.

‘I want to feel it,’ Cam said, his teeth clenched so hard that his jaw nearly locked. ‘My father always called me weak, you know. He always said that it must have been one of the Domestics he violated who gave birth to me, not my mother. It was a joke for him. He used to actually joke about that sort of thing. Jadans were just things for him to have fun with and toss aside.’

He breathed deep, staring at his finger with an intensity I rarely saw.

‘One day he caught me sneaking a young Domestic some leftover bread. She was shaking because she was so hungry. Our house taskmaster whipped her for something or other recently, and so I snuck her down to the kitchens and brought her back some bread and Cold water to her quarters. My father strolled in just as she was eating the last piece, but honestly he didn’t seem surprised, almost like he planned the whole thing. He grabbed us both by the arms and took us into the garden. I was ten at the time. I think. And the Domestic was twelve maybe? I don’t remember everything to be honest. I remember the heat the most. How angry the Sun was.’

Shilah picked up the antidote vial and a clean strip of boilweed, trying to grab Cam’s hand, but he stopped her. Tears formed at the corners of his eyes.

‘But my father was smiling. He told me “Camlish, today is the day I finally teach you how to be a Tavor. You’ve made a mistake, and you have to fix it. That’s what High Nobles do.” I was young, and of course looked up to my father then. He didn’t seem so angry, and I just nodded and told him I was sorry. That I’d do whatever he said. He told me to simply get the bread and water back, then I could go. I didn’t know what he meant, so he took the Domestic and wrenched open her mouth and pressed his fingers on the back of her tongue. He pulled his hands away right before she started gagging. “Like this,” he said. “Get the bread and water back.” I shook my head, and then he took out his knife. “You get the bread and water back or I cut it back.” Again, he was smiling.

‘I shook my head, confused. So quick that I barely saw, he sliced into the skin of her stomach, just enough to draw blood. I remember thinking how the red blended with her dark skin. My skin was so pale, and blood was always so apparent if I cut myself. The girl didn’t scream at all. She just gave me a pleading look. My father cut into her again. Eventually I relented, yelling for him to stop. And so my father held the poor girl’s hands behind her back and I shoved my fingers down her throat until she gave back the bread and water. She vomited and gagged as softly as she could, and most of the bile splashed on my feet. I was crying and I took my hand away, wiping it on my shirt. “All of it,” my father said calmly. And so I choked her again. I made her give back the bread and water. After she was empty he gave her a soft pat on the head and sent her on her way. I never saw her around the manor again. I never asked about her. I was too ashamed.’

‘Cam,’ Shilah said softly.

‘You say we should only use this weapon if necessary,’ Cam said, staring at his finger, his eyes burning with sorrow. ‘I say it’s been necessary for a very long time.’

Chapter Four

I lifted my hand for stillness, bronze fingers glinting in the starlight.

The Flock halted in the sands behind me, making much less noise than I expected. The only sounds were a few clanging weapons, a couple of knocking knees, and the groan of the Wraiths coming to a standstill. For such a patchwork army, I hadn’t expected everyone to move with such stealth. But we’d made it here without raising alarm.

The Sanctuary was in our sights.

Giant, gated and thick-walled, the Sanctuary was one of the few buildings in the City of David’s Fall with multiple floors. Four long wings made the place a sprawling stronghold, with guard towers and sharp staircases. It wasn’t quite as stately as the Khat’s Pyramid, but it was expensively adorned with statues, stained glass and wrought iron. There was a dark grandness about the place; like a High Noblewoman with a silk dress and blood under her fingernails.

Traversing the plateaus to get here would have been no problem at all, if not for the unwieldy Wraiths. After the first flight of stairs along the rocky mountainside, I’d suggested leaving them back, but Shilah and Cam both insisted we couldn’t afford not to have them. In the end, it took five of us carrying each machine to get them up the stairs and hills. The clay bodies were watertight, so no one carrying the machines got shocked – this seemed like a small miracle in its own right – but it had taken a few long, painfully silent hours to navigate into position.

So far we’d made our way through back alleys and deserted streets. By now the Khat’s armies had bought the bait of our disappearance to Marlea, and the city was nearly empty at night. We’d found shelter in the shadows so far, but the Sanctuary was surrounded by open land.

There would be no place to hide within a hundred paces of the gates.

The Nobles had designed it like this to catch runaways, to dangle the lure of freedom and lace the bait with a hook.

I looked to the rooftops around us and smiled at each pair of eyes. These were future recruits, their dark and withered bodies pressed tighter against the hot stones. Some of them scattered away at my acknowledgment, some of them gasped and pointed at my bronze fingers.

I used to be just as skinny as these slaves. Just as scared. Just as broken. I hoped they would tell their friends what they witnessed here tonight.

We were now gathered in stillness. Our small force managed to nearly all fit in the shadows behind a Cry Temple, which only reminded me how few of us there were. Soon we’d enter the moat of visibility around the Sanctuary. There would be no turning back. It was win or chains.

I surveyed our ranks lined up on the soft ground behind us.

First were the Five, two assigned to each Wraith. They were likely to be the only ones in the Flock strong enough to push the inventions without any help. Kasroot and Het partnered up. Cleave and Jia did as well. Samsah volunteered to partner with Dunes for the third Wraith, Samsah looking like a scrawny child in comparison – although he’d held his own when it came to pushing. Cam and Shilah were both hovering in front of their respective Wraiths, the hoses in their gloved hands. I would be in charge of the third Wraith, rolled along by Dunes and Samsah.

I still couldn’t look at Cam and Shilah without feeling a dizzying sense of my own ignorance. I should have been focusing on the battle ahead, but I kept thinking about this glaring development.

Behind the Five were the Builders and Street Jadans we’d recruited, weapons at the ready. Equipped with Stingers, swords and crossbows, they almost looked menacing. Hadim was fidgeting, his thick fingers twitching over the crossbow trigger.

At the very back were the Domestics and children.

I shook my head, reminding myself that ‘children’ was the wrong description. They were the youngest, but not children. All over the age of ten, they’d seen horrors that Nobles wouldn’t even witness in a lifetime. They’d been forced to grow up too fast.

Not children.

Young warriors.

I’d been hesitant to fit them with weapons, only wanting them to carry the burden of supplies, but in the end I’d relented. They deserved a chance in case the Nobles broke through our ranks. Each young warrior shouldered a bag of supplies and a razor-sharp dagger.

Shilah came up to my side and stood as straight as I’d ever seen. Her long braid was tucked on the side of her proud face. A blade was concealed in those locks, the way she used to, and tonight the steel would taste blood.

I made the Crying gesture down my cheek.

The Flock returned the gesture in unison. Split used his dagger hand, but then remembered not to slice up his face.

‘Anybody want to say anything?’ I asked, my eyes on the sky. ‘For inspiration.’

Shilah leaned in and put her lips against my ear. ‘I think we’re supposed to do that.’

I nodded, trying not to faint. My imagination was beginning to play tricks on me. I had to look away from the Flock. All I could see were faces bloodied by battle, half of them lying in the dead-carts. All I could see was suffering.

I almost called for retreat then and there. I couldn’t live with myself if I was responsible for any of their deaths tonight.

Shilah nudged me with an elbow.

My throat barely agreed to make any sounds. ‘I think you’re all going to be great.’

A few nods of respect crossed the front rows, but fear ran rampant through the ranks.

Shilah sighed and took an abb out of her pocket, raising it for the Flock to see. She held it between her thumb and forefingers and the golden colour caught the starlight. I didn’t know Shilah had any abbs left.

‘Creator and Crier of everything we see,’ Shilah said, her tones serious, arm stretching high. ‘Here we stand before you, ready to take your world back from tyranny. Eight hundred years is too long to be subject to whip and flame, and it is finally time to set things to how you intended. To freedom. To justice. To Cold falling across the land. To all the animals and cultures that will spring back to life from the bounty of your tears.’ Her face went hard and menacing. ‘If this is not your will, strike me down now, because I will not stop until the Jadans are free. I promise you, I will not stop until the Jadans are free.’

The Flock went tense. A few tilted away from Shilah like plants leaning away from the Sun. The Five remained perfectly rigid. All accept Jia, who was clearly chewing something.

‘If you do not want to see a Jadan with her own Cold,’ Shilah continued, ‘Cry a Shiver from the heavens and send me to my death. Let it strike me between the eyes and close them forever. Knock this miracle from my hands and bloody the sands with my open veins. I promise I will not stop.’

I’d never heard her talk in such a serious way. With such poetry.

Cam started coughing, his face turning red as he tried to stifle himself.

‘Sorry,’ Cam said. ‘I was so impressed I forgot to swallow and choked on my own spit.’

The night air became clouded with anticipation.

Shilah’s hand was tense around the abb, her forearm shaking. At last she lowered her eyes and faced the Flock. ‘By taking the Sanctuary, we are inviting the Sun to come at us with all the fire in the world. We are inviting the Khat to bathe in fear. He will do everything he can to snuff us out.’ She held the abb out as far as she could. ‘But if you feel scared, think of this Cold. This is our Cold. This Cold belongs to the Jadans. Their Frosts belong to the Jadans. Here is undisputable proof that the Khats have lied to us and strangled the world. The Crier has always believed we are worthy. Now let’s prove it.’

Leah tentatively raised the banner she’d fashioned. The flag was originally supposed to have an Opened Eye, but she’d stitched on a hand with two golden fingers underneath. I don’t think Shilah minded because it was obvious, especially in the moment, that there was more than one leader of the Flock.

‘We fight for the Crier,’ Shilah said, raising her sword.

‘For the Crier,’ Dunes said, slapping his meaty hand on the Wraith.

‘We fight for the Jadans,’ Shilah said, licking her lips and then kissing the abb. She passed it to me, giving me a go-ahead sort of look. I pressed it to my lips and found her spit having stimulated Cold throughout the golden bead. I passed it next to Cam, who kissed it the same, his eyes lighting up at the sensation. The abb made its way through the ranks of our Flock, everyone tasting what they were fighting for.

The abb found its way into the hands of Split. He hesitated, looking at the Five with disdain, who’d all handled the Cold before him.

‘Split,’ I said. ‘You too.’

He gave me an apologetic nod, kissing the abb and passing it on.

‘From now on, you do all the speeches,’ I whispered to Shilah.

Her cheeks blushed.

‘Okay,’ she said next to the group, taking out a loop of rope. Each of us was equipped with similar pieces. ‘We take the eastern gates and secure the guard room and outer wall. From there the Five will lead each faction outward into the Sanctuary, and we’ll secure the hallways one by one. Bring the prisoners back to the guard room bound. Dunes?’

Dunes snapped to attention and raised his cudgel, which was padded with boilweed. The rest of the Five did the same. I advised them to wrap the weapons in boilweed, because I wanted to have our prisoners unconscious rather then dead. Merciless killing for the sake of merciless killing made us no better than the Nobles.

‘After a Noble is knocked down and bound, don’t just assume anything,’ Shilah said. ‘Those bastards will probably pretend to be dead and then bite your throat out if you don’t stay sharp. Remember, every Noble we capture is a bargaining chip, so try to keep them alive. We know the layout of the Sanctuary.’ Shilah gave Ellcia and Ellia a thankful look, offering only a slight nod to Leah. ‘But they don’t know anything about us, or how many we are. Use that to our advantage, and none of us will shed blood tonight. Most of the Nobles will be asleep, and we expect the majority of the taskmasters to be bunking in—’

A piercing scream cut her off.

The eerie sound echoed off the bricks of the Cry Temple, reverberating through the alleyway in which we’d gathered. The Flock broke rank, everyone trying to discern where the sound had come from. Weapons slid out of scabbards. Ellia dropped her Stinger. Faces hardened under threat. Rooftop onlookers twitched back into the shadows.

Cam’s knuckles went pale around his Wraith’s hose. ‘What was that?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘Maybe a runaway?’

Shilah nodded to me. ‘Let’s go check it—’

Another scream. This one was followed by a chorus of throaty cheers. The sounds were distant, so I couldn’t estimate any numbers, but it sounded like a full crowd.

Which made no sense.

We’d scouted for eight nights straight, and the Sanctuary was supposed to be quiet at this point in the night. It was too late for gatherings. If it was a Domestic trying to run away, she’d be tracked down by a few taskmasters or soldiers, not an entire battalion.

Dunes abandoned his post at the Wraith and knelt in front of Shilah and I.

‘Let me go out there ahead of you,’ Dunes said. ‘There are still Hookmen in the Khatdom, and if it is a runaway out there maybe—’

Next came noises with the cadence of a speech. A voice rose and fell like a gentle wind. The tone was irritatingly familiar.

‘No,’ I said, taking out my Stinger and waving Dunes on. ‘But you can go with me.’

Cam went to open his mouth. I nodded before he could say anything.

‘Wait here,’ Shilah commanded of the Flock. ‘Stay sharp.’

The four of us disappeared around the building, with Dunes in the front. He looked far less threatening with the cudgel in hand instead of the hooked blade he used to carry, but he still cut a dangerous silhouette.

We sped across the empty space of dirt and sand as quietly as we could, sweeping towards the massive Sanctuary. The place was spacious and well guarded; it would serve as an excellent fortress for us.

The eastern gates were abandoned and there wasn’t a single flicker of movement from the watch towers above. The shouting continued – low and growly, almost like a chant – coming from the northern area of the Sanctuary, which was just out of view.

Dunes waved us behind him as we pressed against the stone outer wall, sliding along so we wouldn’t be seen. We sidestepped as fast as we could, trying to keep our clothes from rustling. My chest thundered but my hands were surprisingly steady.

The collective murmurs died and the single, airy voice returned. It became more clear as we neared the edge. There was a wet sort of rattle in the middle of the voice, but that wasn’t what grated on me.

My vision went red as I realized who was talking.

‘One last chance, my beautiful darling,’ he said. ‘Tell me where they are, where they are, or your neck gets a scar.’

The moist clacking was new, as if his tongue was dipped in clay and left to harden, but still I recognized the tone.

Panic shot into Shilah’s face, and she tried to hide her fear, but it was apparent. Her hand went to the scars on her stomach.

‘Please, I don’t know,’ a delicate voice answered back, one crack away from shattering. ‘I’ll do anything you want. You can make me more beautiful, more like you. I swear to the Crier that I don’t know!’

‘She swears to the Crier!’ the voice rang out, coming from above us. It was like burnt sugar. ‘How delightful is that?’

The crowd beneath answered with laughter.

Cam grabbed my wrist and mouthed: ‘Ka’in.’

So all of us recognized the voice.

Ka’in. The High Noble who used to be in charge of the Sanctuary. The one who’d stolen Shilah and tried to torture her into submission. The one who picked a different Domestic to burn to death each month, making a betting game out of it, played by himself and a faction of masked High Nobles.

We’d stormed the place and locked them in a room with a deadly dose of Ice and Cold. He wasn’t supposed to be alive.

‘Ka’in,’ I said.

‘That’s not possible,’ Cam gasped.

‘And how would the Crier hear your swears, my black-haired vision?’ Ka’in called out. ‘He doesn’t listen to Jadan-kind-of-Jadans. Next are you going pray the Sun kisses your skin and makes you pale? Kissy kissy. You want the Sun to make you beautiful, love? There are easier ways.’

‘Please,’ the girl shouted. ‘Please, I’ll do anything! Let me prove myself!’

Someone else shouted from ground level. ‘Show her, Ka’in! Show her like the others!’

‘The new Khat!’ someone screamed, full of righteousness and fervour. ‘Ka’in is divine!’

Dunes finally skirted to the edge of the wall. He got down on his stomach and shuffled forward, just enough for him see what was happening. His large back remained still for a moment and then he returned to his feet, unsteady.

I went to take a look around the corner. Dunes pressed a hand on my chest. His look of complete sorrow also held me back.

‘This is my fault,’ he whispered.

‘In no way is it your fault,’ I said. ‘If anything, it’s mine.’

‘What is it?’ Cam whispered, his face as pale as bone. ‘Should we not look?’

‘I am divine!’ Ka’in shouted from the top of the building. ‘I have been made perfect! Chosen by the Crier’s touch. I am the most beautiful in the World Cried. I am his most perfect creation! And dirty little slaves should know better than to lie to His most perfect creation!’

Dunes shook his head, his eyes going as dark as I’d seen. ‘I should have gone back in and slit his throat. This is my doing. These are my deaths, Meshua.’

‘I would never have let you go back,’ I said. ‘That much Ice and Cold would have killed you too.’

Kneeling down, Dunes thrust out his arm and turned over his wrist. I nearly fell over from shock and confusion. It was the same gesture my friend Matty used to make when he was nervous, offering up his ‘Calm Spot’ for me to touch and ease his worries. With trembling fingers and a mind clouded with disarray, I began to reach out, thinking of Matty, my lost friend. My heart squeezed. Dunes ignored my hand and took out his small dagger. I was yanked back to reality.

He pressed the blade against his wrist.

I nearly shouted for him to stop, but then I realized what he was doing.

His wrist was one of the few patches of skin on his body left without a death tally. Most everywhere else was riddled with marks from all the Jadan deaths he felt responsible for. Before I could silently protest, Dunes made three tiny nicks in his dark skin, the blood welling up. The cuts were ugly, but nothing serious.

‘Don’t do that anymore,’ I whispered. ‘I need you strong.’

‘One last chance!’ Ka’in cackled. ‘Or you will be protecting your friends right into the flames!’

Not able to wait any longer, I peeked around the corner.

A hundred guards and soldiers and taskmasters were assembled at the base of the Sanctuary. They had a few fires roaring and were roasting large Sobek lizards over the flames. Many Nobles held plates piled high with decadent foods.

The guards were having a feast.

Everyone had a wineskin, and smiles abounded on every face. Their attention was gathered upwards.

I looked up at the balcony and nearly vomited.

Once there had been a stained-glass mural there. The artwork had depicted the grisly scene of David’s Fall, where the Jadans had been made to jump to their deaths. I’d destroyed it the last time I was here, shattering the glass with an abb from my crossbow. The world needed to be rid of such horrible things.

I never thought its destruction would give rise to something worse.

Now, instead of just glass depictions, there were actual Jadans.

Dead Jadans.

Three bodies hung off the balcony, dangling at the end of ropes. They were lifeless and charred. Small flames clung to melted skin.

The victims looked young, but I couldn’t tell how young, as their bodies had become unrecognizable.

Ka’in was standing on the hollowed out balcony where the tops of the ropes had been tied around pillars. A few Nobles lingered at his back, all wearing black velvet masks. Each one held a flaming torch. Three more Jadans, these ones alive, were poised at the lip of the balcony, their hands bound behind their backs and ropes already around their necks. Two women and a boy. The boy was the only one not trembling, his expression vacant, clearly in shock.

And Ka’in stood there, lording above everyone.

His skin was now blackened and ugly, looking almost purple in places. Parts of him were bandaged, but most of the gruesome flesh was revealed for all those below to witness. His head was now without hair, and his face was covered in stitches and scars. He looked like something freshly risen from the dead-carts.

All those shards of glass and Ice had only served to reveal his true self. He finally looked the part of a demon.

‘The Crier has touched me!’ Ka’in said, waving his torch in front of the girl’s face. ‘Do you like when I touch you? It’s like the Crier is touching you! Here, taste some holiness.’ He put his blemished forearm in front of her mouth, and she eagerly thrust out her tongue, placing it on his Cold-burned skin. Her expression looked hopeful, as if this act might save her.

It was then when I recognized her face. I also recognized the fingers on her left hand. They’d healed in terrible directions, looking gnarled and unusable. She was the Domestic who’d betrayed us by screaming our presence in the Sanctuary the first time we were there.

That fact didn’t dampen my pity in the slightest. She was family. She should be with the Flock, not standing at the border of death with a rope around her neck.

A yellow stream trickled off the balcony next to her. The boy was beginning to show signs of life.

‘Now that you have my Chosen-ness on your tongue, lovely love,’ Ka’in said, clearing his throat, the rattle getting worse, ‘you can tell no more lies. Your only lying will be on a lovely bed or in a dead-cart. Your choice. Where did they go?’

‘I swear I don’t know,’ she pleaded. ‘I was loyal to you. I’ll be loyal.’

Ka’in turned to address the crowd. ‘Do you believe her?’

The crowd answered in unison. Wine spilled as hands raised. Roasted lizard flecked off fat lips. ‘No!’

‘And what happens to those we don’t believe?’ Ka’in called, almost a chant.

I couldn’t take it any more. It was obvious was what about to happen.

I turned around to begin running.

Shilah was already halfway across the expanse in front of me. She was so quick it was frightening. I waved to Cam and Dunes to follow, but I didn’t look at them.

I couldn’t have them seeing my shame.

Ka’in should be dead. And it was my fault. I’d have to cut into my flesh and start my own death tally, just like Dunes.

All of us reached the Flock just as the Noble cheering reached a maddening level behind us. Shilah was already gesturing wildly, forming an attack plan. She called out orders for which unit to go where. I couldn’t hear her clearly over the blood boiling in my ears. I got behind one of the Wraiths and began pushing out into the moat with every ounce of strength I possessed. I shouldn’t have been able to move the massive thing by myself, as it weighed more than Jia; but maybe there was something of the Crier in the air. Maybe rage doesn’t care all that much about shouldn’t have.

I barrelled across the expanse. The Wraith flowed across the land in front of me like the River Singe. I pushed with all of my might, and a loud noise pierced my ears. It took me a moment to realize it was a battle cry coming from my lips.

But it was also coming from the lips of those behind me.

Before I knew it, my Wraith was moving twice as fast. Cam and Shilah were pushing on either side of me. I chanced a glance back and saw the other Wraiths keeping pace, pushed by the Five and Samsah, their faces serious and deadly. The rest of the Flock was screaming, their daggers and Stingers and crossbows at the ready.

We rounded the corner, shouting murder.

The Nobles had heard us coming. Everyone was already scrambling, their plates and wine cups down, weapons up. Most of them were simply guards, but there were a few real soldiers and Khatfists from Paphos in the crowd. Their armour gleamed and their swords were sharp. The soldiers were first in line when we rounded the corner, ready for battle, forming ranks and lifting their pikes.

It didn’t matter.

Four Jadan bodies now hung off the balcony. The girl with the gnarled fingers was burning, her body hanging taut. She wasn’t squirming. Her neck must have broken in the fall.

Each and every one of these Nobles would die. My heart commanded it so.

The Warrior in me had returned.

‘You!’ Ka’in shouted, pointing the torch down at me, kicking the rope at his feet. ‘I knew you and Hillia here were in cahoots. She protected you till the end, but I have been made most beautiful—’

I grabbed the Wraith hose and wrenched back the release lever almost hard enough to break it off. The stream wouldn’t reach Ka’in, but that was okay. I wanted to kill him with my hands.

Charged water erupted from the spout, blasting with such power that the hose almost bucked out of my hands. The guards and taskmasters watched the water arcing towards them and laughed.

Laughter turned to screams.

I screamed along with them: theirs of pain, mine of glory. I sprayed their faces and hands and aimed down their chest plates, hoping to inflict as much pain as possible. Their bodies jerked and sputtered and they begged for mercy.

I showed none.

I doused half of the crowd with the Wraithwater before the pressure gave and the stream died. By that time, the other Wraiths had flanked mine, and Cam and Shilah were in position with their hoses. They both released the levers and two new streams attacked the Noble crowd.

Shilah’s teeth were bared. Cam’s face was stricken with horror. Their accuracy was divine.

The clinking of metal led me to find Split furiously pumping the pressure back into my Wraith. His face was blood red and he moved faster than I’d ever seen, his wispy hair flying in all directions.

‘Thanks,’ I said, the word coming out oddly soft and tender.

Forces clashed inside of me.

The gears in my brain had ground themselves loose; I was awash with sharp ideas. Some were of honour. Others were of anger. The frantic thoughts stabbed at their barriers, aching to push into the real world through actions. I was full of sensations screaming at me, telling me new ways to inflict Noble pain. My arms buzzed with pleasure. My hands itched as I waited for Split to ready the Wraith.

The Pedlar seethed with effort, the muscles in his forearm bulging back to a former state. His eyes lost years of sorrow. There was a flash of a younger Split; one not yet plagued by so much loss.

I marvelled in Noble destruction, watching the crowd writhe and flail. Most were lying on their backs now. They clawed at their faces and arms, trying to get the Wraithwater off their skin. They shouted of burning and going blind. Their tears were glorious. I could smell their shocked flesh.

Then I realized it was just my poor Jadan family still roasting off the balcony.

I needed vengeance. I needed the Nobles to suffer and die.

Ka’in and the masked followers had disappeared into the Sanctuary, but I wasn’t worried. I’d find them. I’d deal with them accordingly.

Split finished priming the Wraith. My voice nearly broke as I bellowed my next war cry, loosing the next volley of caustic water. Cam and Shilah’s streams had dried up, waiting to be primed, and my new attack arrived just in time. The Noble agony remained fluid.

Pretty soon the whole crowd was one part flailing and one part screams. They tried stripping away their clothes and armour, but their faces only grew more panicked. Wraithwater couldn’t be cured without an antidote; they were only making things worse for themselves.

The pain wouldn’t stop.

Neither would I.

I grabbed a sword from our supplies and ran over to the nearest Khatfist. I stabbed sharp metal into any naked flesh I could find. Metal hit bone and the blade reverberated in my hand. I clutched tightly. The Noble’s screech was high pitched and tickled my ears.

Wraithwater dripped into the wounds and sunk under his skin, and the man’s eyes rolled backwards. He fell unconscious, which was a mercy I wasn’t intending. I moved to the next body rolling on the ground. I found vengeance. And then I found more vengeance.

I would have thought my actions might come with guilt or remorse, but I felt nothing of the sort. The tip of the metal cut through Noble muscles and fat with delightful ease, like carving designs into clay.

The Five were immediately at my sides, cudgels abandoned and swords in hand. They sought their own revenge. Het and Dunes killed the bastards with reckless abandon. Jia wore a deep frown, apologizing under his breath to each victim as he sliced their necks. Kasroot snarled at each spurt of blood. Cleave killed methodically, dispassionate as death itself.

I kicked hands trying to grab at my ankles, keeping off the Wraithwater. A few flecks burned into my flesh, but I’d worn long sun-robes. Most of the water fell harmlessly against the thick cloth.

Soon enough, everyone had been either sliced or skewered, and I doubted we’d be taking any of them alive.

‘Everyone fall back!’ Shilah called, waving our Flock away from the fallen Nobles. Blood seeped from a cut on her arm, but otherwise she was unharmed.

The Flock retreated, leaving the writhing mass to suffer alone.

I did not.

I went back to the Wraith and I started pumping, moving air into the clay stomach of the machine. Madness stirred in my blood now. I looked up again at the hanging Jadan bodies, their burning stench unbearable. I was stricken by fever. I wasn’t finished with these Nobles yet. Only death would save them.

A hand grabbed my shoulder.

‘Micah.’

I kept pumping.

‘Micah,’ Shilah said again. ‘It’s over. Now we go find Ka’in. That’s what matters.’

I kept pumping. The pressure was almost ready.

Split came over to me next. His dagger was thick with blood, and he scratched at the back of his neck.

‘Son,’ he said. ‘Come on. You did good, but she’s right. If we don’t catch that Sun-damn blister of a Noble he might get away.’

I pushed past Split, moving to the front of the Wraith and grabbing the hose. I couldn’t stop. Stopping meant facing the truth. Stopping meant cutting down bodies from ropes; the one who died because I’d been too weak to finish off Ka’in in the first place. I wouldn’t be weak now.

Cam came beside me next. ‘The Wraiths worked perfectly, Spout. This is just the beginning.’

His words didn’t register. They might as well have been in Ancient Jadan.

I clapped on the filter on the hose to broaden the spray.

‘Micah!’ Shilah chided.

I aimed a wordless scream at the Nobles, unleashing the torrent of charged water. The twitches and groans were less frantic than last time, but there were still a few satisfying screams. I aimed for the wounds and growled so loud that my voice broke. The sound continued, from a much deeper place than my lips.

Leah waved the banner high above her head, cheering me on.

The Wraith finally ran dry. Dunes had to pull me away from the hose.

I dropped to my knees and wept, my tears burning into the sand.

We couldn’t find Ka’in.

It was my fault.

We spent hours securing every room, every hallway, every tower, but there was no sign of him anywhere. I had Samsah and a few others guard the secret escape door that led out into the sands, but he’d not gone that way. There must have been other passageways out of the Sanctuary, which would be good for us in the future, but bad in the meantime.

The rest of the night was spent securing the Sanctuary. This involved disposing of twenty more Nobles and taskmasters who’d slept through Ka’in’s ceremony. It didn’t take much effort. The Five knocked them unconscious and bound them faster than I could point. We hauled the limp Nobles through the basement and tossed them in the cages in the ‘Beauty Room’. I hoped the Nobles would wake with fear in their hearts. The walls were lined with terrible pictures of severed body parts and diagrams of naked bones. There were clay representations of organs and jawbones, and the whole place looked like a dead-pit sorted out and pinned for examination.

To make things worse, there were cages in the corner. Ka’in used to keep the Domestics locked up before exposing them to his curiosities. Shilah, Ellia, Ellcia and Leah had counted among those victims.

Shilah had been tortured on one of the tables, which were made of clean metal and had camel-leather straps on the corners. I had Dunes and Cleave take the tables out and bury them in the sands.

I was tempted to have the Wraiths brought in so we could lock our prisoners in the cages and spray them, to make them suffer like they’d made Jadans suffer, but I knew Shilah wouldn’t go for it. She’d barely met my eyes when we were in the room.

There were ten Domestics left alive in the Sanctuary, including the three young Jadans that Ka’in had almost hung and burned over the balcony. There should have been thirteen.

When no one was watching, I’d taken a scalpel from one of the Beauty Room drawers and cut four thin slices into the back of my leg.

Shilah tended to the Domestics in the Sanctuary’s central gardens, offering Cold water and groan salve for their wounds. The necks of the three Jadans from the balcony had serious abrasions from being dragged around with the rope, but the balm would help. Almost all of them were in some state of shock. It was going to be a long battle back to health, but I wouldn’t let them fight it alone.

The Flock helped move the Wraiths to the guard towers and barred the entrances to the gates. Shilah oversaw everything, keeping everyone focused. Her steely commands and upright demeanour quelled any fears over the Khat’s impending reaction. While Shilah was busy being a leader, I took Dunes, Cam and Split on a sombre mission.

There was one thing that needed doing before the night was over.

Dunes lifted the charred Jadan bodies back up to the balcony. He was strong enough to do it by himself. Cutting them loose from their ropes and letting them fall would have been easier, but they were family. They had died for our cause, even if they didn’t know it at the time.

We found a cart in one of the guard towers and used it to bring our kin out into the sands. Shoving boilweed up my nose was the only thing that kept me from breaking down or vomiting. It was long, arduous work, and we were silent the entire time.

We dug three graves into the warm sands and lowered the bodies. Then we gave them an Ancient Jadan funeral. Split had shown me the rituals in the Book of the March, and I was glad to revive the tradition. Eight centuries later, some aspects of old culture would survive.

Funerals were taken very seriously by the Jadans of the past. Family members often presided over their dead for weeks. The Book of the March taught us that they would even perform rituals over the graves for generations to come, often bringing children to the burial spots of their ancestors and telling stories. The ancient Jadans had a penchant for humour, and would sing funny songs about their ancestors, but most were tender and emotional. They planted red alder and Rose of Gilead petals over the sites, which we could not do, as all we had to work with was dust and sand.

I wished with all my heart that I could have done this for my father, that I could have had a place where I could go and sing for him on the nights when the stars were brightest and the wind was most playful.

Dunes put a protective arm around my shoulder.

We laid a Wisp over each of our fallen kins’ eyes, or at least where their eyes would have been. The fires had claimed most of their faces. We didn’t have access to most of the burial seeds and fruits that the Book of the March called for – a lot of the species the pages spoke of were believed to be extinct – but the Crier would understand. I laid some of Jia’s candied figs in whatever folds of clothing I could find.

‘What are the Wisps on the eyes for?’ Cam asked, standing back a few feet.

Split gave me a look, telling me to go ahead.

‘The Khat twisted the old stories to serve his claim,’ I said, sounding strange in my own ears. My voice was high pitched and nasally from my loaded nostrils. ‘They say that we go to the Black if we misbehave, right? And if we’re good we get to serve Nobles in the afterlife.’

Cam gave a guilty nod. His face had taken on a pale tinge from vomiting so many times. He looked like a painting of himself that had been left too long in the Sun.

‘The lie worked because it was born out of our own myth,’ Split said.

‘What myth?’ Cam asked.

Split took out his copy of the Book of the March and held it against his chest. ‘You know I never got to do this ceremony for my daughter. She was only half Jadan, but still I would have done it.’

‘I’m so sorry, Split,’ I said. ‘That they took your family.’

He gave a sad laugh. ‘You’re the last person in the World Cried who has to be sorry. I just hope my little girl found her Frost. She was so tiny and her hands were so small. I worry she couldn’t have picked one up if she tried.’

I put a hand over the Book. ‘I’m sure the Crier doesn’t care about that.’

Cam was silent.

I started to sprinkle sand over the first body.

‘The old myth goes like this,’ I said. ‘When a Jadan dies, they wake up in a long black field. It’s quiet and Cold and dark, because it’s the one place the Sun can’t reach. A secret place just for us.’

I continued pouring buckets of sand over the girl, hiding her ruined flesh. ‘Death carries us there, and then flies away on raven wings.’

The Pedlar gave me a reassuring nod, joining me on covering the grave with sand. The girl’s body slowly faded into the earth. ‘Hillia,’ Ka’in had called her. I hoped she would find her peace.

‘So you wake up in the field,’ Cam prompted.

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘And the dark land is vast and long and peaceful. And you wander the field and you hear the songs of your family. Time is different in the black field, so sometimes the songs are from the past, sometimes they haven’t been sung yet. And your feet sink into the cool earth as you smile and laugh at the stories in the music. There’s no Sun, and it’s quiet, and all the things you loved seem all the lovelier. You stare at the stars and eat the foods that your family puts in your pockets. You plant the seeds of the fruits so the next Jadans to arrive have something to eat, just in case they didn’t have anyone. And you drink from sweet rivers and wander the black land, until one day you finally come across your Frost. It shines through the black soil, and you kneel down and start to dig it up. It was made just for you. Ever since the Crier was blinded by Sun, this is how He finds the Jadans. This is how He shows you you’re one of His children, even if he’s never been able to see you. Every Frost is unique, each one special. And when you touch the Frost, the Crier knows where you are, and the Cold takes you up into the heavens so you can be with Him forever, with your family. With the spirit of the Jadan people.’

Split wiped away a tear. ‘Anyah and Lizah found theirs. I know they did.’

‘We put the Wisps in the eyes,’ I told Cam. ‘Because they help the dead see their way to the Frost. Cold can always find Cold. The Wisps make it so the dead don’t have to wander aimlessly in the black fields. Loved ones put the Wisps in the eyes so, when those in the black feel ready, they can always find their way home.’

Sand covered the last of Hillia’s body.

‘Did I get it right?’ I asked Split.

‘And then some,’ the Pedlar said quietly, looking up at the stars.

Cam was clearly thinking up a storm. ‘The Noble story of the afterlife is so different. It’s all about decadence and indulging in pleasures forever.’

I shrugged. ‘With the Jadans serving every Noble need, right?’

Cam swallowed hard, his face cycling through a series of emotions.

‘I think I get it now,’ Cam said. ‘The Khat has made it a threat instead of something natural – getting sent to the black – because he claims the Crier deemed Jadans unworthy. So if there’s no Frost in the fields, no light, then there is no hope of going home. If you get sent to the black, you’ll be stuck forever. That’s probably why he also doesn’t let Jadans sing anything other than the Khat’s Anthem. So there’s no more songs from your family.’

‘You got it,’ I said. ‘But in the Khat’s version, if we serve the Nobles well, then we at least get to go where the Nobles go after we die. Because even an eternity of serving is better than an eternity abandoned.’

Cam knelt down over the second small grave. The fire had been merciless on this one’s body. I still couldn’t tell if it was a boy or a girl. Or how old they’d been.

‘Hold on,’ Cam said, fishing through his pockets. He pulled out a few almonds and put them on the body, giving me a sad look. ‘It’s all I have on me.’

I touched his shoulder. ‘I’m sure they’ll go a long way.’

We finished the burial and I sent Cam and Split back. I told them that Dunes and I were going to perform a few more ceremonies out of the Book of the March. That we were going to sing a few private songs for the dead, and not to worry if we didn’t come back for a while. Split’s arm was over Cam’s shoulder as they walked: a family of their own.

Dunes and I exchanged a silent nod.

The rest of the Five showed up out of the shadows, dragging empty carts behind them.

One by one we took the dead Nobles and threw them off the southern cliff.

Chapter Five

I found no sleep that night.

I was too busy searching for salvation.

Dunes and I covered the entire Sanctuary three times, looking for Frosts. Each time though, I noticed the paintings of the beautiful Jadan women on the walls were fewer – Ellia and Ellcia having proceeded with their own mission. I didn’t know if the sisters were burning the canvases or storing them somewhere, but either way I left dealing with the portraits up to them.

Dunes kept his cudgel out at all times in case we found any lingering Nobles. I hoped we’d stumble across Ka’in, but I would have settled for any of the masked bastards; it would at least have given me an outlet for my rage.

We went into every room, secret or otherwise, turning out the entire place. Without a Frost, taking the Sanctuary meant little more than a slight delay in our deaths. If I was going to uncover the secrets of flight, to figure out a way to break the Drought, I needed a secure situation. I wouldn’t be able to focus on anything if my people were dying by the droves, having nothing to keep the Sun at bay.

Hours passed with no Frosts, although we did find useful items.

There was every kind of food imaginable in the kitchens. Loads of supplies were stored in salt barrels and Cold boxes, which would last the Flock months. We found an entire armoury full of weapons, including tar to burn and thousands of arrows to shoot. We found a library full of scrolls, ancient books and a magnificent collection of Jadan art from before the Drought. Apparently Ka’in was a collector.

There were fine linens, and three water-well reservoirs, and even an entire closet of musical instruments. A few harps rested in the back, and my chest squeezed at the thought of Leah with the strings. There were so many useful things that would bring joy and security to the Flock.

But there was no excitement for me. Food and supplies were just bandages, the wound underneath festering.

There wasn’t a single Frost anywhere.

It was maddening, especially since we’d discovered Ka’in’s Coldroom early on in the night. The cavernous space was filled floor to ceiling with different crates of Cold, meticulously separated by type. Thousands of Wisps and Drafts. Hundreds of Shivers. Dozens of Chills. All resting in golden chests with no keys. My heart leapt in my throat each time I easily picked one of the locks, expecting a Frost.

But there was only disappointment.

The last time I was here, Ka’in admitted to having a Frost. The confession had been accidental, but it rang with the sound of truth. And if Ka’in had admitted to having one Frost, it was likely he had several. But now that I had come up empty so many times I had to come to terms with three options, each equally disheartening.

One: Ka’in never had any Frosts in the first place.

Two: he took them with him as he fled.

Three: they were too well hidden for us to find.

Dunes tried to console me, assuring me he’d get me a Frost somehow, but my mood only soured as the night went on. Cam and Shilah joined the hunt, but their presence made me feel more ashamed. I should have been happy we at least had a defendable fortress and enough Cold to keep the Flock alive for months, but I could only concentrate on our inevitable demise. Without a Frost our revolution would end. Our power didn’t come from Wisps or Drafts or Chills or high walls. It came from the promise of change; and without the Coldmaker, our significance would eventually boil away.

I sifted through Ka’in’s private quarters for the fourth time. The rooms were sequestered deep in the basement of the Sanctuary. I insisted on being alone.

The Sun would be rising soon, but it couldn’t reach me directly through so many layers of shadow and stone. The air was luxurious in here, tempered by the Cold Bellows in the corner. There was a private drinking well too, its stone rim studded with tiny Closed Eyes made of clay. I tried to remove them, but they were cemented on.

Vials of precious honey were spread across a few pedestals; and dusty spaces glared at me from the wall, places where portraits of unfortunate Domestics had recently been torn away.

I slammed my palm against the wall by Ka’in’s bed, my bronze fingers rattling. I’d scoured ever inch of the room, hoping to find some secret hiding place. I was aware of the hate and anger festering in my chest, and of the voice that didn’t even sound like my own, whispering: You’re missing it. You’re weak.

I was unbearably tired. I’d never felt so frustrated. Violence seethed in my chest, like a nest of sand-vipers all tangled up and trying to bite their way free.

I didn’t even want Ka’in dead.

Dead meant the Sun-damned bastard might find peace. The Crier was supposed to be merciful and good, and there was a chance He might Cry a Frost for even the most despicable of Nobles.

I couldn’t let Ka’in have peace. I wanted Ka’in alive. I wanted to lock him in the belly of a Wraith and slam the lid on his screams. I wanted to flay his purpled skin and pour charged water in the oozing slits. I wanted to take all my tinkering knowledge and skill, and develop a machine so brutal, so terrifying, so precisely effective, that I might drive away every memory of the sick pleasures he’d taken at the expense of my people, replacing them with repentance. It would be an Idea so vicious that—

‘Micah.’

‘What?’ I didn’t turn around, continuing to wrap my knuckles along the wall. I was in no moment to see Cam’s pale face. To look at the fair skin and yellow hair that Shilah obviously found more entrancing than mine.

‘Leave me alone,’ I spat.

‘Spout.’

I narrowed my eyes and turned. Cam leaned against the door, his body hunched and tight, almost like a slave stance.

‘WHAT!’ I shouted, anger plaguing my words. ‘I’m trying to save us!’

‘I know.’ He recoiled. ‘But you can’t save us on an empty stomach.’

Turning over his palm, he revealed a plump orangefruit.

I finally broke.

He came over to the spot on the floor where I crumbled, and wrapped his arms around me. His body was warm, and I felt his heart beating through his chest in a calming rhythm. My head was tucked under his chin, and for a moment I knew relief from his soothing touch.

‘Shhhh,’ he said. His fingers were tight around my neck, pressing against my tattooed numbers. My father’s numbers.

Sobs wrenched from my chest.

‘It’s okay,’ he said softly. I could tell from his grip that he wasn’t planning on letting me go yet. I accepted his kindness, and by doing so, I could finally see the extent of the hole. It was there inside of me. It was so black and deep that it might take a thousand Frosts to fill. It might not have even been possible.

‘I killed them,’ I said.

Cam squeezed the back of my neck. ‘I know.’

‘Cam, you don’t understand. I killed them. They’re dead. I killed so many of them. I did things.’

His voice remained just as calm. ‘I know. I did too.’

‘You don’t—’

‘Shhhh,’Cam said, holding me tighter. ‘We were all with you.’

‘There’s something growing inside of me and I – I don’t know how –’ I sniffed. My face was on fire, and I was glad my nose was pressed into his chest so he couldn’t see my tears. ‘I miss my dad.’

‘I know,’ Cam said. ‘But Shilah’s here. Split’s here. I’m here. I’m always going to be here. Even if you try and push me away, or ignore me, or lump me in. There’s no way I’m going to let you save the world alone. I’m too vain and I need the recognition.’

I sobbed out a laugh. Cam smelled different than he used to. He used to smell like spicy flowers, and now he smelled like sweat and the deep sands.

‘I just want you to know,’ Cam continued. ‘You’ve done something good. Okay, maybe good is a tough way to see it, but you’ve done something right. Micah, you’re doing everything right. You are saving us.’

My voice sounded meek, like it used to sound after my first few whippings. So much had happened since the last time I’d felt the lash of a taskmaster, yet once again I felt small and vulnerable. Abb used to say that time was like the wind, pushing sand over all our pain. He said it could take hours, days, or years, but eventually everything would be covered. He was right in a way; but I also knew a strong enough wind could scrape that pain back into the open. I used to see bones in the dunes behind my barracks, back when I snuck out at night and dreamed of doing something more.

‘I just wanted to make things,’ I said. ‘I never wanted to hurt anyone.’

‘I know,’ Cam said, closing the orangefruit into my hand. ‘I wanted to be a singer.’

‘Huh?’

‘Yeah.’ I felt his shrug through my cheek. ‘I love music; you know that. I’ve always loved music. When the troops from Belisk would visit the Tavor Manor, damn, those were the happiest days of my childhood.’

‘I’ve never heard you sing,’ I said.

‘I used to. My favourite Domestic Jadan used to teach me. She had gray hair and big old cheeks that puffed out when she was frustrated.’ Cam touched his throat. ‘She showed me how to make my throat vibrate the notes without sounding like a warble. But my father caught me singing a song I wrote and he put an end to it. He said the arts were for those too weak to do something real.’

I sniffed, gently pulling away and wiping the snot from under my nose.

‘You know,’ I said. ‘Your father is a real asshole.’

Cam gave a dark chuckle. ‘You know what I’d say to him if he was here?’

I shook my head.

‘I’d point to the Coldmaker and say, “look dad, art”, and then I’d smash him over the head with a rock.’

I smiled, feeling slightly less dead inside.

Cam took out a fresh piece of boilweed and began wiping the back of my hands. He worked a gob of spit on the boilweed and then rubbed, the red stains coming away slowly. The Noble blood had dried on good.

‘I came to show you something,’ he said.

I was about to ask what, but then thought of a more pressing topic. ‘Wait. You wrote a song? How did it go? What was it about?’

Cam smiled. ‘A girl. What else?’

I got to my feet and brushed the creases out of my robes.

Cam pointed to the orangefruit. ‘So you going to share or be greedy? You know, I worked up quite an appetite myself. Big battle and all.’

I laughed and peeled the rind. I split the tender fruit in half and put a slice in my cheek. The sugary juice tingled and I wished it would stay forever. Silence passed as we ate, but soon an uncomfortable truth parted my lips. I had to look down at my feet as the words erupted from my heart.

‘She likes you, you know,’ I said. ‘Shilah.’

Cam paused, his body going stiff. ‘I – I—’

‘It’s okay. It was never our future to end up like that anyway. We have something different.’ My eyes flicked up to his with a small challenge. ‘It’s still special. Just different.’

‘Yes, um.’ Cam swallowed hard, clearing his throat and looking rather uncomfortable. ‘But seriously, I came to show you something. You should probably see this right away.’

I nodded. If he wasn’t ready to talk about Shilah, I wasn’t going to prod.

We left the room and he led me around dark corners, picking up the pace. Shadows backed away as we ran, a Sinai in Cam’s outstretched hand.

‘Is it Ka’in?’ I asked as he led me up a spiralling staircase. There was no one else around.

‘No,’ Cam said.

‘Tell me.’

‘You just have to see it.’

I shook my head with frustration. ‘That doesn’t help. Just tell me. Did the Nobles here raise an army already? Did someone betray us?’

‘No, but it’s interesting that that’s where your mind goes.’

I shrugged. ‘My trust isn’t easily won.’

‘You trusted the Hookmen immediately.’

I thought about it for a moment. ‘Dunes has kind eyes.’

‘What about me? High Noble and all. Why’d you trust me?’

I took the stairs two at a time, following after him.

‘I didn’t.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Cam asked, shooting me a perplexed look over his shoulder. ‘We did all that awesome stuff together. I took you to the apothecary, and got that music box, and didn’t we get chocolate?’

‘Cam,’ I said blankly, ‘I was a Street Slave. I had to do that stuff since you wanted me to.’

‘No, I know. But I could see it in your face. You were having fun. We were bonding.’

I looked at the back of my knuckles, which were now clean. ‘Yeah, I guess so.’

Our walk was brisk, not quite a run, heading to the balcony where Ka’in had set up the ropes. A place of Sunlight and darkness.

‘Speaking of bonding. Who’s your favourite of the Five?’ Cam asked. ‘Jia?’

‘You mean besides Dunes,’I said.

‘Obviously besides Dunes.’

‘Jia,’ I admitted. ‘Although it’s probably going to be Het if all of his warding actually works.’

‘You think they will? Doesn’t seem like you to believe that sort of stuff.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘It doesn’t.’

Cam shouldered open the door in front of him, leading out to the balcony. Light was just beginning to crest the far side of the world. The Sun would be rising soon. When it got high enough it would surely see the pile of dead Nobles at the base of the Southern cliff.

On the balcony in front of me, Shilah and the Five were silhouetted by the rising light. Their backs were to Cam and I, listening to some sort of commotion down below. Shouting clouded the air, but the voices didn’t sound mournful. I made my presence known with heavy feet and Shilah swivelled with the proudest face I’d ever seen her wear.

The Five snapped around to me as a single unit next.

Shilah was so skinny compared to the Five that she looked like a needle surrounded by swords, but still somehow retained the commanding air. The Coldmaker waited at her feet. It was out of canvas bag and catching some of the morning light.

‘Hey,’ Shilah said. ‘I wanted to wait for you before we say anything.’

‘Say anything about what?’

She waved me over next to her, making a space. Cam gave me a go-ahead look. I walked forward and took my place by her side, the noises becoming a little clearer. They sounded like conversations; like chattering in a marketplace.

Shilah looped her arm through mine and we walked up to the balcony together, taking in the astonishing sight.

Hundreds of Jadans were kneeling in front of the Sanctuary.

The bodies stretched out across the empty expanse, holding bags, tattered clothing and meagre possessions. Young, old, Builders, Domestics, Patch Jadans; there were so many of all different ages. They began to rise to their feet as they took notice of Shilah and I, rousing each other, their voices dripping with hope. Tears fell across cheeks.

‘Meshua!’ someone shouted.

One by one the Jadan arrivals rose to their feet. Their arms stretched out to us.

‘MESHUA!’

Those lurking on the rooftops must have spread word of our battle. Hundreds had apparently abandoned their barracks this morning, coming to us instead of going to their slave posts.

Shilah’s eyes were alight with hope and pride.

I turned to the Five.

‘Unlock the doors,’ I said. ‘Let them in.’

The Five bowed as one, Dunes bowing lowest, and then disappeared back into the Sanctuary. Shilah and I stepped up to the edge of the balcony. Down below, arms opened wide, eyes wept with joy and strangers hugged one another. Some of them had already drawn Opened Eyes onto their clothing. Some of the older Jadans dropped to their knees and kissed the sands.

All of a sudden our Flock numbered in the hundreds.

‘MESHUA!’

Things were changing.

‘MESHUA!’

I turned to Shilah and dropped my voice to a whisper. ‘You do the speeches, remember.’

Shilah laughed, opened her arms, and then launched our revolution.

PART TWO

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