Coldmaker(39)

I shifted the bucket, trying to rest it on top of my knees.

Abb’s eyes shot down, his voice nearly cracking with emotion. ‘Don’t drop that.’

‘I won’t,’ I said.

‘What do Jadans need?’ he asked again through clenched teeth.

I tried to catch my breath, but Abb turned and stormed down the dune, marching as if the taskmasters were at his back with their whips flying. I gave a deep sigh and then hurried after him, my chest heaving.

We met on top of the next dune. My forehead was now dripping, and my lungs felt weak from all the Droughtweed I’d been forcing down my lungs.

‘Where’ – I sucked in a heavy breath, almost a wheeze – ‘are we going?’

‘What do Jadans need?’

‘Why are you asking’ – my words faltered, lacking the air to push them out – ‘me that?’ My mind was as blank as when Thoth had asked me about rule sixteen. I had no idea what he could possibly want from me, and the bucket was getting heavier by the second.

Abb’s expression hardened again, and he turned, heading for the final dunes by the banks of the Kiln.

‘Wait!’ I called, but he didn’t slow.

I caught up with him on the last dune before the riverbank, and I felt as if my chest might explode. I looked out over the River Kiln, bubbling with anger, and at least felt satisfied in the knowledge that all that was out here were the un-crossable waters. Abb was mistaken; there was no ancient truth to be found.

‘The scorpion traps. The crank-fans. Star-slides. Rope Shoes. Fire-snuffers. All the things you made.’ His hands were fists. ‘You must know the answer. What do Jadans need?’

I couldn’t quite form words yet. The bucket slipped through my sweaty fingers. I was close to fainting, my head swimming in a haze of thirst. ‘I don’t know!’ I shouted, desperate to let go. Or to stop. Or to fall to my knees and give up completely. My bruises felt as if they had never been treated with the salve in the first place, each contusion hammering me with pain. ‘I don’t know what Jadans need!’

Instead of heading towards the waters, Abb turned left and started sweeping along the banks. I wanted to scream and hiss and spit. It was as if he wanted me to die out here. My body had been broken and depleted to begin with, and now every step was torture. I knew I probably didn’t have enough moisture in me to make it back.

‘Stop!’ I yelled.

He marched along the rocks, keeping up the pace.

‘Please! Abb!’ My body was hotter than a blacksmith’s fire. ‘I can’t do it any more!’

‘What do Jadans need!’ was the only reply.

‘I don’t Sun-damn know!’ The edges of my vision were creeping towards black as I stumbled onto the banks. Hot flecks from the Kiln were carried by the wind and pricked my cheeks with heat. ‘I don’t know!’

Abb suddenly stopped, turning around and marching back. For a moment I felt relieved, but then I saw the intensity in his eyes and I wondered if he was going to hit me.

‘Of course you know,’ Abb yelled. ‘You’ve always known. It’s why you tinker, it’s why you create!’

I could only concentrate on breathing, trying to keep my body from giving up altogether. The bucket was practically bucking in my arms, trying to get me to drop it to the ground. ‘What the hell is this about? There’s no secret out here! You’re going to kill me!’

‘You’re going to kill yourself,’ Abb snarled. ‘Why didn’t you drop the bucket?’

‘Because you told me not to!’

He stepped up and reached a hand into the bucket, grabbing a fistful of sand and tossing it over the banks to the sputtering waters. ‘The Khat’s Gospels.’

I struggled to suck down even a single breath.

He grabbed another handful of sand, his eyes wet with sorrow as he tossed it into the wind. ‘The lies of the Great Drought.’

Another handful. ‘The street rules.’

Another. ‘Quotas in the Patches.’

Abb snatched handful after handful of sand out of the bucket, calling out after each toss, his voice rising in volume.

‘The Closed Eye.

‘Droughtweed.

‘Lessons from the Priests.’

He was practically roaring now.

‘Curfew!

‘Taskmasters!

‘Jadanmasters!

‘High Nobility!

‘Errands!’

Now he was using two hands, the sand flying.

‘The Procession!

‘Barracks!

‘Rations!

‘Lashings!

‘Obey!

‘The Sun!’

At last he scraped the bottom of the bucket, pulling up the last of the sand. My arms cried out with joy.

Abb waved the final fistful of sand in front of my face and then let it sprinkle through his fingers slowly. ‘The Vicaress killed twenty-two Jadans the same night Matty died. Each one in their own barracks, for the same reasons such as being too small, or being too frail. You think the Vicaress never saw Matty on the streets before? Or Jadans his size? Why did she wait to kill him until that night? Because she needed to make a point! She needed to take back the power!’

The bucket was empty, and, although my chest felt as though I’d been poisoned, I wheezed deeply in relief, close to crying.