Coldmaker(44)

‘I know you’re still angry with me.’ I set the board down in front of Moussa, stirring up a bit of sand off the common chamber floor. ‘But this isn’t about me, this is about Matty. We’re going to sit here and play the game, and wherever he is, maybe he’ll get a smile out of it. You don’t even have to talk. Just endure my presence.’

Some of our family members looked over to us, smiling. The rift between Moussa and me was still a mystery to them – Moussa still hadn’t told anyone about his theories behind Matty’s death – and most of barracks forty-five was ready to see us be friends again.

Conditions were worse than ever, a hundred backs desperately trying to heal before the next lash. The taskmasters had shown no signs of reining in their malice, making up new rules on the spot that might allow them to dish out discipline. They weren’t even looking for information any more. Shilah still hadn’t been caught, but the Nobles had stopped mentioning that fact. Instead, we were constantly told that any rebellion would be punished.

Moussa looked cornered, but he didn’t dart off to the nearest boilweed division, like the last few times I’d tried to talk to him. He lowered his voice so it might be overlaid by the chatter in the room. ‘Listen, Micah. It’s not that I’m—’

I folded into my legs, sitting across from him. ‘Of course it is. But Matty loved both of us, and I think he would want us to be friends.’

Moussa’s teeth clenched at my words. ‘Matty would want to be alive,’ he spat at me.

I swallowed hard, opening the lid to the little box of pieces. I’d carved notches into the board and the pieces themselves, so they wouldn’t shift around too much. I began to arrange the small chunks of marble, and little bits of tin, and jade dice around the swirls of colour that Matty had painted on himself. When I got to the small bird carving Matty had smuggled in, my fingers trembled too much, so I left it in the box.

‘I know,’ I said. ‘So let’s at least keep this part of him alive.’

Moussa kept his eyes lowered, letting the silence stew. He was covered in fresh bruises, and one of his eyes was almost swollen shut. His hands were clenched as he stared at the empty boilweed division, which didn’t seem so empty at the moment, as the curtain was rustling. ‘Fine. But let’s play in the corner. And I’m not going to talk.’

We moved away from everyone, Moussa not meeting my eyes as we sat back down. I explained the rules Matty and I had concocted so far, and Moussa just about cracked a smile when I mentioned that the small staff piece could only move backwards, unless you sang when you rolled the dice, then you could move forward.

‘That rule was for you,’ I said quickly. ‘He really cared for you.’

Moussa didn’t say anything, but he stayed put, examining the staff piece he held in his hands until he gave a small laugh. ‘He prolly did.’

I finally pulled out the metal feather that had spent so much time nestled behind Matt’s ear. ‘We need a rule for this, too.’

Moussa visibly jolted at the sight. ‘You kept it?’

‘I took it off his body,’ I said. The memory made my eyes burn.

Moussa finally broke, with the intensity of someone who has held back for too long. I wanted to go over and embrace him, but I feared that might send him fleeing.

‘We loved him,’ I said, a lump in my throat as I tried to remember the way Matty had so simply put it. ‘Not everything lasts as long as it should.’

We stayed quiet for a moment, but it felt good to be in Moussa’s company again. I picked up the dice and cast them, still unsure of what the numbers would mean exactly. ‘On another note,’ I said, finally breaking the silence, ‘something really weird happened to me today.’ I decided my main game-piece would be the twisty bit of blue rubber Matty had deemed the River Jadan. ‘There was this High Nobleboy, right. A Tavor. And he had me help him with errands all day, but he didn’t make me actually do anything. He didn’t even want me to carry his bags.’

Moussa gave a small shrug, brushing the last of his tears away. He picked a piece for himself and I could tell he was intrigued, so I pressed on. I rolled the dice again and moved my River onto the garden space. ‘He kept asking me things about myself. Almost as if he cared. Whether or not I like to paint things, or if I’d ever tried frollock cheese, or—’

‘You can’t talk to the girl any more,’ Moussa cut me off.

I lifted my head up to him in curiosity, but I couldn’t meet his eyes. ‘Huh?’

‘The Boilweed Girl,’ he said. ‘The Upright Girl. Whatever. If you really want us to go back to how things were, you can’t talk to her any more.’

I hadn’t wanted to bring her up, but the mention of Shilah had sparked something inside me. Since venturing out onto the dunes with Abb, I’d thought about trying to find her, but hadn’t worked up the nerve to walk back out into the sands and wander around for hours on end. Especially without any Rope Shoes. ‘Shilah?’

Moussa’s face went dark. ‘You know her name?’

A couple of people looked over to us, but I smiled back reassuringly. ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘But I haven’t talked to her since.’

‘You can’t.’ Moussa sniffed, a bit of dry blood trying to peek out of his nostril. ‘Here’s the thing. Maybe Matty’s death was just because he was small, and because the Vicaress was angry, but regardless of that, she tempted you against the Crier.’ He was clenching his fists again, his knuckles almost white with effort. ‘Now Zeti Gum’s dead too. And Paphos is like one big ache. She did that. She made everything worse for us.’