Coldmaker(29)

‘First time you’ve been alone with a girl?’ she asked with a straight face.

I blushed. ‘No, I— I mean. It’s just—’

She shrugged. ‘What is that thing?’ Around your chest.’

‘It’s called a Cold Wrap,’ I said, wishing suddenly that I could be anywhere else. ‘And thanks for cutting me loose.’

I was glad her eyes stayed up at my face as she asked: ‘What are you called?’

I hesitated for a moment’s pause, deciding on which name to give. ‘Micah.’

Instead of introducing herself, she pointed to my torn invention. ‘Is it because a Shiver’s too big?’

‘Sorry?’

‘You left that Shiver in the boilweed.’ She spiralled a finger towards the Cold chamber. ‘Because it’s too big to fit in the chamber thing?’

‘Wait, one second. What are you even doing out here?’

She shrugged. ‘I live out here. You’re not very good at answering my questions.’

I first thought I’d misheard her. ‘You live in the sands?’

A flash of amusement passed through her eyes. ‘No one lives in the sands. They would die. What was that pole you were using the other night? I’ve never seen one before.’

‘Claw Staff,’ I replied, trying to keep my voice down.

‘Claw Staff?’ she echoed. ‘You named it Claw Staff? Couldn’t you think of anything better? You must have had other options.’

My face went sour. ‘What’s wrong with Claw Staff?’

She smirked. ‘Nothing.’

I thought my blush might burn the skin off my cheeks.

She gestured to my barracks. ‘You sneak out more than most Jadans, don’t you. I’ve seen you. What do you do with all that rubbish you steal?’

‘It’s not rubbish,’ I said, indignation flooding my chest.

She gave a wry smile, clearly enjoying seeing me rise to the bait. Then she pointed to my feet. ‘Where’d you steal those?’

‘I didn’t steal them. I made them.’ I looked down at the Rope Shoes, finally feeling steady enough to speak. ‘From my “rubbish”.’

‘Ah. So you make things,’ she said, as if it was something she’d been mulling over for some time. ‘I like that. Stand on the sand. Use something besides your hands to dig through the rubbish. Crush the Cold and keep it close, like a Bellows for your body. You have good ideas.’

‘Wait. My turn to ask,’ I said, trying to be as firm as she was; although I couldn’t believe she’d distilled all my inventions so succinctly, considering those were exactly my thought processes in their creation. ‘Why did you throw that Shiver on the street? That could have got you killed.’

She tapped a finger against her lip. ‘You mean like how we can get killed for stepping into the wrong alley. Or for walking the wrong way. Or for buying a Noblewoman a pink fan instead of a red one?’

I raised my eyebrows. ‘Do you make a habit of following people?’

‘You’re easy to follow,’ she said matter-of-factly, walking her fingers through the air. ‘Some people are very slow.’

She struck a nerve. ‘No I’m not. And why are you following me?’

‘No particular reason.’ She shrugged, but I noticed that she wasn’t looking at my face. ‘I get bored sometimes.’

‘What’s your name?’ I asked.

‘Shilah.’

I extended a hand. ‘Micah.’

She sniggered. ‘I know. You told me.’

I ignored her. ‘All of Paphos is looking for you. Everyone’s angry at what you did.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘I know that, too.’

‘You got my Jadanmaster fired,’ I said.

A dark look found her eyes. ‘All Jadanmasters should be fired.’

‘So why did you do it?’ I asked, not understanding how such a system would work. ‘You must have known if the taskmasters couldn’t find you they’d just take it out on other Jadans.’

She didn’t hesitate, her words taking on a harsh edge. ‘Because Shivers are supposed to fall for Jadans too. So I made it happen. And it was beautiful. You felt how beautiful it was.’

This was the strangest conversation I’d ever had. ‘But what about the Great Drought?’ I asked.

‘What about it?’ she replied, her voice resolute, hands going back over her chest. ‘You drink Cold every day. You just used a Wisp that you weren’t supposed to have. Are you dead? Did the Crier send a Draft from the sky to rip a hole through your chest?’

My cheeks grew hotter. ‘It was my first time using a stolen Wisp! And anyway, for a second I thought the Crier had sent you to kill me.’

Shilah gave a serious nod and then reached into her pocket, pulling out something and tossing it over to me.

I caught the small Khatmelon, with wide eyes. It was one of the most expensive fruits in the city, so expensive that even some Nobles couldn’t afford them. And this one was not yet ripe, as if it had just been plucked from a garden.

‘Eat it,’ she said. ‘Then tell me if the Crier wants you dead.’

I looked at her straight in the eyes. ‘Where’d you steal this?’