Coldmaker(47)

Cam led me through busy avenues and across prominent squares, brushing at the outskirts of the Auction Bazaar, home of happy shouting and furious bargaining. Thirty or forty vendors were belting out promises above each other: better goods for smaller Cold, spring-loaded quills, foreign chocolate, musical instruments, jewellery, and even sculptures – the kind made from the red clay which unlucky Jadans were made to agonizingly scrape from the banks of the Singe.

Street Jadans made an effort to stay away from the Auction, unless their Noble specifically requested they go there. The goods were always more expensive than at traditional shops and getting to a vendor without bumping into a Noble was near impossible.

‘So, speaking of the actions of one,’ Cam said, as if it was no big deal, using the noise for cover. ‘What do you think of the Boilweed Girl?’

I stiffened, my knee threatening to buckle. ‘Sorry?’

Cam put his hands over his head and then mimed tossing something to the ground. ‘Shivers and Frosts, Spout! The Boilweed Girl. The talk of Paphos. Surely you must have heard, considering you have ears, and you live in Paphos.’

‘She’s obviously a menace,’ I said carefully.

Cam ran his tongue over his teeth, something crossing his eyes. He lowered his voice, making sure no one was around. ‘I don’t think that’s obvious at all.’

‘I—’

‘No pressure,’ Cam said, throwing up his hands in mock defeat. ‘Say no more. The Ancient Quarter awaits.’

Soon the three domes came into view. My heart beat faster at the idea of going inside.

The Great Drought had not only destroyed beauty, it had also destroyed beautiful ideas. In the face of starvation, what good were tinkerings and inventions? Considering the World Cried was still struggling to survive eight hundred years later, the indulgences of the past had been lost.

My heart thundered in my chest as we approached the nearest dome. Above the entrance was a system of old glyphs I couldn’t read, and I assumed Cam couldn’t either. It was a language from the time when there were many other tongues.

‘Heart of the Past,’ Cam read, pointing at each letter. ‘Preservation. Duty. Tradition.’

I raised an eyebrow.

Cam shrugged, patting the thin book in his pocket. ‘I have a lot of free time to study.’

I nodded, but I still didn’t believe that was all it was. Most High Nobles couldn’t tell the difference between a Cry Temple and a Cold Thermae.

Cam went to knock on the door, but before his knuckles could reach it, a clay window slipped open, revealing a pair of dark eyes within.

‘No Jadans,’ the voice commanded.

Cam let his arm slump, faking an injury and pointing at his shoulder. ‘But I need him. I can’t carry—’

‘No Jadans.’

The clay window slammed shut and Cam sighed, giving me an apologetic look.

I had already expected as much, not having hoped enough even to feel disappointment, so I pointed to the nearest alleyway. ‘I’ll wait in there.’

Cam sucked his teeth. ‘Fine. But only because I really need to get something in there. Don’t leave without me.’

I nodded and headed to the shadows, glad that I might get to wait out of the Sun. I took up my position, and watched Cam negotiate with the hidden eyes, having to pass his huge Cold purse through the slot to prove he could afford to shop there.

Slumping against the wall, I sighed, spending the next few minutes with my eyes closed, enjoying the taste of orangefruit still on my tongue.

‘What are you doing, little slave?’ a sweet voice asked.

My heart sank and I resumed my slave stance as a burly-armed taskmaster glared at me.

I tried to keep my voice calm, holding out the Tavor token. ‘Pardon, miss, but I’m on an errand. I was not allowed in the Ancient Shop with my High Noble’ – I made sure to emphasize the distinction – ‘so he commanded I stay here.’

‘Yes?’ Her mouth pulled into a wicked grin, revealing a set of yellowed teeth.

I quickly pointed in Cam’s direction. ‘If you’d like to go and check with him, he’s in the—’

Without another word, she grabbed me by the wrist and dragged me deeper into the alley, away from the domes. My shoulder felt as if it was being ripped from its socket, and I prayed she wouldn’t be able to smell the orangefruit remains on me.

‘Lying Jadans are no good. Lying Jadans are a burden on the Khat.’ She spoke sweetly, yet I couldn’t miss the venom that dripped from her words.

‘I’m not lying, miss. Please. I really am on an errand. If you’d just—’

She gave my arm a sharp pull, and my words caught in my throat.

‘More lies.’ She kicked aside a few small piles of boilweed to make a path.

‘I swear, miss. If you’ll just let me—’

She ripped my shirt over my head and spun me against the wall, pressing my naked chest into the brick.

‘What’s this?’ She jabbed a finger against my back and I winced against the pain. ‘Has no one punished you for your lying today, little slave?’

‘No, miss.’ My chest was thumping. ‘But my Jadanmaster withheld my rations so—’

‘Good!’ she spat, hissing in my ear. ‘Your kind doesn’t deserve rations.’