Coldmaker(36)

‘He wasn’t your fault?’ Thoth repeated, his eyebrow arching towards the sky. ‘What do you mean, “He wasn’t your fault”?’

My tongue faltered, begging to be bitten. I hadn’t meant to say he, it had just slipped out.

‘The scorpion,’ I choked, not knowing what else to say.

Thoth tucked his scarf back in place and commanded: ‘Street rule sixteen.’

Easy. I took a breath, relaxing in the knowledge that I’d had all the rules memorized since childhood. Rule sixteen was the one that had to do with—

‘Lemme help,’ Matty whispered from far away, my vision swimming.

My jaw seized up and my mind went blank. ‘Rule sixteen. Rule sixteen is …’

‘Promptly,’ Thoth commanded.

I cleared my throat, my tongue so dry it felt as if it wasn’t even there. I had no idea what rule sixteen was, and I had to spit out something that sounded reasonable. ‘A Street Jadan will make sure that whenever the Khat’s name is said, it is with complete reverence.’

Thoth bent closer to me, enough so that I could smell some foreign spice on his breath. ‘What is happening with your eyes?’ he asked. ‘Why are they red?’

‘I was stung,’ I said, my insides starting to tremble. ‘On my way here. That’s why I thought the scorpion might still be on me.’

Thoth sounded amused. ‘And where were you stung?’

‘My back, sir.’

‘Proof,’ he said.

With a heavy heart I lifted off my shirt and spun around, hoping some old scar might pass as a potential sting. I closed my eyes tightly while I waited, whilst a spectrum of dark colours coalesced across the back of my eyelids, swirling into the Opened Eye. I wanted to scratch it away, but I couldn’t move.

‘Dress yourself,’ Thoth commanded. ‘And spin back around.’

I did as I was told, tense as I waited for his judgement.

The Jadanmaster reached into his pocket and pulled out his bottle of ink and feather quill.

‘I’m sorry, sir,’ I said, my voice gravelly and distant. The words pulsed in the air in front of me. ‘I deserved the scorpion bite. I’m unworthy.’

Thoth inked up the quill, the black liquid dripping off it. Lifting the nib to my forehead, he began drawing, each stroke of the brush like the touch of a razor. When he’d finished the symbol, and gone over it twice, he stowed the quill with slow movements.

I knew what would be waiting on my forehead.

A triangle with a vertical line dissecting it in half.

Unusable.

Whenever Jadanmaster Gramble had made a slave unusable, it had been out of kindness, letting them rest for a few bells if they were feeling sick or had had a particularly taxing last errand. I had a feeling Jadanmaster Thoth’s motives might be different.

In the distance, I saw a black streak floating through the sky and I almost gasped, thinking it might be a bird.

Then I realized it was just ink dripping into my eye.

The sweat finally broke free on my forehead and the last of the Droughtweed left my system. Sobriety slammed my mind like a fist. The Sun exploded over Thoth’s shoulder as he brought the rod high, my insides buckling in shame and regret.

It was all my fault.





Chapter Twelve


Abb wiped on another layer of the groan salve, his calloused fingertips scraping against the wounds. ‘Is Moussa still avoiding you?’

I winced as he spread the gel across a painful spot on my shoulder, and my answer came out as something of a snarl. ‘What do you think?’

‘Easy there,’ Abb said. ‘I can talk to him for you if you want.’

‘Abb,’ I said with a warning.

‘Yes, yes. You’re old enough to fight your own battles. You’ve even finally grown your first hairs on your chest. I get it.’

I didn’t fall for his baiting. This was no place for jokes. My body was more bruise than anything else, and my mind wasn’t faring much better. Thoth had decided the beating wasn’t sufficient enough to validate the unusable symbol, so to ensure that I was left a useless wretch, he’d taken away my day’s entire rations as well. When I’d stumbled into the barracks earlier, I had barely made it to the Street wall, gasping with each step, to then stand shoulder-to-shoulder, in a line with my family, yet completely alone.

‘Almost done.’ Abb gave the wound a final pat. ‘There. Nice and sticky. Just think, when you’re out collecting materials, now you don’t need pockets. You can just roll around in the boilweed and bring stuff back on your skin!’

‘That’s not funny,’ I said, stomach churning with frustration.

‘I think it would look very funny. You crawling back through the panel, all dressed up in—’

‘Just drop it,’ I said, eyes going to my dying tinker-wall. I’d smashed most of my creations in the sands behind the barracks. Now the shelves were practically bare, save for the few things that the barracks relied on me for, and Matty’s board game near the bottom. If I ever saw Shilah again, I’d vowed to wrestle back my Rope Shoes and destroy them too. And then I’d march her straight to the Pyramid. ‘I’m done with that.’

Already the salve was working, a cool tingle replacing the stings, but I felt guilty for the relief. If not for Abb’s insistence, I would have left the salve for those Jadans more deserving.