Coldmaker(38)

‘Dark forces,’ Abb scoffed, reaching for the handle of one of the few crank-fans I’d saved, giving it a whirr. Then he turned back, his voice like iron. ‘Why are you alive, Little Builder?’

‘I’m alive …’ I let my head sag, my chest a dark pit. ‘Because …’

Abb slammed a fist on top of the tinker-wall, the shelf buckling. ‘Why are you alive?’

I stiffened, not expecting such a reaction. I replied with a voice so severe I wondered if it might shake the entire barracks. The emptiness inside me was all-consuming, chained around my neck and pulling me down. ‘So I can suffer! So I can feel all of this darkness! So I’ll obey too!’

Abb nodded, as if he had been expecting that. He grabbed the nearest bucket, dumping out the last of my metal scraps. Then he swept across the room and jarred open the loose panel. His eyes were so full of love that I wanted to scream again.

‘I’m going to show you a secret, son,’ he said, taking a deep breath. ‘It’s out there, deep in the sands behind our barracks. And it’s been around since even before the Great Drought. You want to know why the Nobles hold up a Closed Eye when they call us unworthy? Here’s your chance.’

I was stunned. The southern sands were just dead land, and there was nothing out there except dunes and eventually the rocky banks of the River Kiln. ‘What are you talking about?’

Abb tapped his foot impatiently. ‘I’ll show you. I’m going to take you there. It’s hard to see, but I think you’re finally old enough to know the truth.’

‘We can’t go outside at night,’ I said, although he’d struck my curiosity. ‘Gramble—’

‘We can, and we will.’ His eyes finally hardened. ‘Don’t you want to learn the truth?’

‘I—’

Abb grabbed me hard by the wrist and pushed me through the panel. I tried to wriggle out of his grip, but it was like a breath trying to resist the wind. He pulled me to my feet and brushed the sand off the sticky patches of salve on my arm. Outside, I tried not to look at the rubble that had once been my beloved inventions. Metal edges from my smashed Teleglass glinted in the starlight, and tiny gears from what was once my Sand Sifter peeked out of the shallow hills of sand. Dozens of my designs, crudely disassembled, each shred of debris reminding me of what I’d lost.

Abb smiled and put a consoling hand on my arm. ‘Have I not been a good father?’

I couldn’t lie. ‘You have been.’

‘And so you trust me?’

I paused, thinking about his bare hands touching the Frost. ‘For the most part.’

‘I’ll take that.’ He shoved the bucket against my chest. ‘Now fill this with sand.’

I lifted an eyebrow, but Abb just stabbed his hand at the nearest dune.

‘If you want to see the truth, you need to fill this with sand,’ he said.

I sighed, dropping to my knees and scooping a handful. My fingers struck something solid and I tried not to think of what invention it might have come from. I continued, and soon the bucket was full. My limbs were still shaky from being so exposed.

‘All the way,’ Abb ordered, his voice suddenly hard as iron.

I stuffed the bucket, patting the top smooth. My father had never spoken so harshly to me before.

‘Okay.’ Abb started walking South, the thin patch of dirt behind our home quickly swallowed up by the dunes. ‘Follow me. And don’t drop the bucket. It’s very important that you don’t drop the bucket.’

‘Why? What are you taking me to see? There’s nothing out here.’

‘I told you. The truth,’ Abb said simply, continuing to stride out into the sands. ‘Don’t drop the bucket.’

I got to my feet, the bucket already heavy in my arms, and followed him. My legs buried themselves deep with each step, the burden weighing me down. I had no idea why I’d need to carry a supply of sand, when there was an infinity of buckets’-worth in every direction; but I listened.

We trudged into the dunes, neither of us speaking. I felt my forehead grow wet with effort, my aching muscles shaking. Thankfully the salve was helping to keep the sharpest pain bearable, but still my legs shook. My eyes scanned the surface of the dunes for any prints from my Rope Shoes, but of course there was nothing. Shilah couldn’t secretly survive out here, it would be impossible.

Abb reached the top of the next dune and looked back. His face was hard and his eyes narrow, but he didn’t say anything as he carried on.

My breathing speeded up as I struggled down the slope, and I was unable to fill my lungs fully. I shifted the bucket, trying to find the best way to carry it, but nothing relieved the burning in my arms.

‘Keep up!’ Abb kept walking, cresting another dune, and if anything, picking up the pace. ‘We have a long way to go yet!’

I snarled, feeling my throat beg for relief. My heel struck something solid on the rise of the next hill, and I wondered if it was a stone, or the skull of the last Jadan stupid enough to wander these dunes. The bucket quickly became more than cumbersome, and I had to double my effort. The gentle wind was no longer enough to keep the sweat from my face, the beads dripping into my eyes.

I made it to the top of the next dune, high enough for me to see the rolling whitecaps of the boiling River Kiln in the distance. Abb was waiting for me there, eyes fixed on the stars, something off about his face. It took me a moment to pinpoint what bothered me, but I realized it was because for the first time in my life, I was seeing him cry. ‘What do Jadans need?’ he asked in a soft voice, fingers at the corners of his eyes. He gathered the water and then held it up to the sky, almost as if proving the tears were real.