Coldmaker(37)

‘You can’t give up on who you are,’ Abb said, his voice turning serious. ‘I understand you need to take time to mourn Matty, but—’

I spun around, my face heating up. ‘And who am I? A damned slave who spat in the face of the Crier and got my friend killed. That’s who I can’t give up on?’

Abb sighed. His eyes were soft, even though I was being difficult.

‘Seven,’ he said after a long silence.

My teeth were clenched so hard I wondered if they might crack. ‘Seven what?’

He paused, gathering another layer of the salve and going after the rash on my forearm. I tried to pull away, but he was much stronger than me. He slowly drew my arm towards him and began applying the medicine.

I wanted to strike him, to ball up my other fist and hit him, but I knew that wouldn’t make me feel any better.

In circular motions, Abb spread the tingling salve. ‘In the last week, that’s how many Builders have been killed at the Pyramid, two of them I knew by name. I suspect we might have even been friends if we were allowed to have conversations.’

I swallowed, trying to steady my resolve. I knew what he was trying to do, but it was useless. The Crier had made it very clear that I’d crossed the line.

‘And do you know the reason they were killed, Micah? Not from Sunstroke. Or thirst.’ Abb met my eyes, his gaze blazing even in the dim light.

I felt my face grow even warmer under his gaze. ‘Because it was their time.’

‘It was because the taskmasters in the Monument Quarter got bored. It’s high up, it’s hot, and it’s monotonous work keeping the Jadans in line. We’re an obedient bunch, and there is not much for them to do.’ Abb shrugged, speaking as calmly as if he were discussing the procedure to mix clay. ‘So, every once in a while, they decide they deserve to have a little fun; but they’ve been whipping us and berating us their whole lives. The usual tricks don’t get their juices flowing any more.’ He gathered some moisture in his mouth and spat on the ground. ‘Glory be to the Khat.’

My eyes widened with shock, but he kept going.

‘So the taskmasters have a game.’ Abb’s gaze dropped. He went to work putting the finishing touches on the salve, smoothing it out with his fingers barely touching the skin. ‘They call it Obey.’ He was still calm, but he practically spat the word. ‘Every couple of days, they’ll find a Jadan who maybe coughed after inhaling some powdered mortar, or someone who accidently fell to a knee while carrying his load.’ His eyes flicked to my forehead with a pointed look. ‘Or maybe someone who was sweating too much. For justification.’ Abb voice was matter-of-fact, but his words were smouldering at their core. ‘And that Jadan will be taken to an empty chamber in the Pyramid with nothing inside it except a Closed Eye nailed to the wall. And then the taskmasters will test the boundaries of their power. They’ll command something, anything, just to see what we might obey. How far we might be prepared to go. And we’re unworthy Jadans, so what choice do we have, right? It’s the Crier’s will. And if we refuse, we get tossed off the Pyramid.’

He cleared his throat, emotion in his voice. ‘That’s the seven.’

I paused, letting the idea wash over me. I’d never heard the Builders discuss such a thing before, and as despicable as it sounded, I knew there was no point arguing. The Nobles were chosen, and we were not.

‘Maybe the Jadans that get picked for Obey did something to upset the Crier. And it’s a justified punishment.’

‘Justified.’ Abb’s face dropped, pain in his voice. ‘You think the Crier has kept us alive all these years just to decide our fate in this way? By seeing if we are willing to drink spoiled ale until we vomit? Or to see how high we’ll fill up a waterskin with blood? Or what we might do to our bodies, with glass and with rods, and fire, while the chosen sit back and laugh?’

I felt my face stiffen with shame. I wished he would now let me suffer in peace. ‘The Nobles are our betters. We have to listen for a reason.’

Abb nodded slowly, rubbing his slimy fingers around the rim of the bottle to try to save the excess salve. Then he went to my tinker-wall and blew the sand off the top shelf. ‘You’re a special kid, but you’re still a kid, Micah. You have to trust me when I tell you Matty was killed because the Nobles are scared. Power is a fragile thing, and what happened at the Procession was a crack in their chains.’ Abb placed a hand on my cheek. ‘You can’t give up on what you want, son. The Vicaress didn’t kill your friend because of the Cold Wrap. Or because of a little Khatmelon.’

‘You don’t know that,’ I fired back, the memory burning my tongue. ‘You can’t know that.’

‘I can’t, can’t I?’ Abb’s eyes narrowed. ‘So tell me, if you’re such a disappointment to the Crier, then why is the girl who destroyed a Shiver still out there? You think the Crier can single you out for using a Wisp, but can’t find a girl who did that?’

He had something of a point, but I couldn’t stop thinking that Matty’s blood was on my hands. Hands that would never again tinker. Hands that should only serve the Nobles, and pick Cold from the Patches, and carry stone.

‘The Vicaress said dark forces are hiding Shilah,’ I countered. ‘And if I could, I’d turn her over just to make sure no other innocent Jadans die.’