Coldmaker(20)

‘Well, we know what this means. Bigger quota. I’d bet a finger on it.’

‘Damn it, how can they possibly make the quotas bigger.’

‘She screwed us all. They’re going to want triple Shivers tomorrow to make up for it. We won’t get our breaks.’

A scoff. ‘Breaks!’

‘I heard she’s from Langria.’

‘Langria’s not real.’

‘Why’d she smash it in the Market Quarter?’

‘Didn’t like the prices.’

A playful slap. ‘Be serious.’

‘Spout was there. He might know.’

Eyes turning towards me.

‘Think of how long she could have lived on that Shiver for.’

‘We all could have.’

I looked across the barracks at the expanse of boilweed divisions, doubting many of us would sleep tonight. Nothing this dramatic had happened in Paphos since that young monk from the Southern Cry Temple ran through the streets naked, prophesying the end of the Great Drought. Of course, that monk had been a Noble, so his punishment was simply confinement in a dungeon until his sanity returned.

None of us could have ever had the bravery to do this. And if the Upright Girl got caught, being roasted on a spit would be getting off lightly.

I turned to Moussa who stood beside me. A hand went into his pocket, and he pulled out a pinch of the gem candy dust I’d given him the other night. Shrugging, he offered it to me first.

I shook my head. ‘Have you not eaten it yet?’ I asked, knowing full well how hard it must have been not to devour all the sugar the second it was in his possession.

‘I saved it for a special occasion.’ Moussa gestured around the room. ‘Seems appropriate now. Bad times are ahead.’

‘You think?’

Moussa’s face soured. He smelled of a long shift, and his breathing was still a bit wheezy and shallow. Abb had said his rib would heal within a few weeks. ‘They always are.’

From my other side, Matty said: ‘I want to meet the Shiver Girl. She’s invincible.’

‘Invincible, huh?’

‘And did’ja know she can fly?’

I paused, holding back my smile. ‘How do you know?’

Matty gave me a look questioning if I was being serious. ‘Because the Vicaress didn’t catch her.’

‘But what if the Vicaress did catch her, but the Boilweed Girl is just invincible,’ I replied.

Matty thought about it, his face scrunching with the effort. ‘That’s prolly it. I’m jealous you got to see her.’

Moussa’s eyes went dark. ‘Here’s the thing, Matty. You’re too young to understand how bad this is. She’s a plague.’

‘Ten’s not that little.’ Matty smiled, bright and big. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the metal and yarn feather, waving it in front of my eyes. I wasn’t sure how the thing hadn’t been confiscated yet, since he always kept it on him during his errands. ‘Especially if you don’t know long you’re going to live.’

I was stunned, my stomach flipping into a horrified knot. I looked over at Moussa for help, but he looked just as taken aback.

‘Matty,’ I said. My chest squeezed, but he had a point. I couldn’t help but think of the one-eyed boy I’d delivered to the alley; he’d looked even younger than Matty.

Matty kept waving the feather, possibly oblivious to how sad his statement came across. His smile didn’t falter as he watched the yarn dance.

Moussa tried to step in. ‘You can’t look at it like—’

‘I don’t mean it in a bad way,’ Matty said. ‘It’s like, some things prolly don’t last as long as they should.’ The feather caught the first of the starlight through the roof. ‘It makes ’em special,’ he continued. ‘And then you can hope they come back.’

I felt my throat swell shut, struggling to keep the tears out of my eyes.

‘For now, let’s just assume we’re all going to work the Patches together,’ I said. ‘And then the Pyramid, and we’ll all die as old men with grey hair.’ I tried on a smile, but it didn’t fit. ‘Maybe we’ll even finish your board game.’

‘Grey hair like Zeti Gum?’ Matty thrust the feather across the room like a sword.

Old Man Gum was standing with the Builders, but he was facing the wrong way, and seemed to be attempting to carve something into the barracks wall with his fingernail.

‘Greyer,’ Moussa said, the humour returning to his voice. ‘I guarantee the hair on our toes is going to be grey.’

‘Whatsit feel like, Spout?’ Matty asked, talking above the rising whispers of our kin. ‘Getting touched by Big Cold.’

I sank against the wall, thinking. ‘I can’t really explain it.’

Matty gave me a pleading look. ‘Can you try?’

I swivelled my head to Moussa, who gave a curious shrug.

I closed my eyes and sighed. I’d never forget the feeling, but it was difficult putting it into words. ‘It was like the Crier himself was lifting me into the night sky. And Great Gale putting her lips right on me.’

Moussa arched an eyebrow. ‘Like you know what a kiss feels like.’

I gave Moussa a playful nudge, making sure not to hit his ribs.