Coldmaker(53)

‘The Vicaress had to cleanse us!’ Slab Hagan said. ‘The Boilweed Girl defiled our name. We were tainted. Now we are clean.’

Mother Bev spat on the ground, waving two knuckles at the roof. I’d never seen her this angry before, and I hoped she wouldn’t break anything. ‘This was not the Crier’s work. And the Boilweed Girl is probably dead already. The Nobles might have even drawn those marks theyselves, just to make a reason to prove their might.’

‘And what do you want us to do, Bev?’ Dabria called out, her voice shaking. ‘Rise against the chosen?’

‘This was not the Crier!’ Mother Bev shouted, trying to hobble into a menacing stance, but only raising her head enough to reach Hagan’s elbow. ‘This was an affront to the natural order! This was innocents being slaughtered. The Crier will be on our side if we fight back.’

‘If He was on our side He would Cry again for us,’ Steeven said. ‘Even if this wasn’t His direct order, nothing has changed. The Khat gets all the Cold. We have to obey or we all die.’

‘So? We die,’ Bev huffed.

‘Easy for you to say!’ someone shouted. ‘You’ve already got a foot in the dead-carts. What about us who don’t want to be punished and sent to the eternal black!’

Slab Hagan nodded in agreement, crossing his meaty arms over his chest.

I shot a questioning look at Moussa, querying whether I should speak up. He shook his head, whispering: ‘Let the elders go first.’

‘Abb!’ Mother Bev called. ‘Get up here and talk some sense into these cowards!’

‘Not cowards,’ Slab Hagan grunted. ‘Loyal.’

Abb sighed, dropping his healing box. Everyone went quiet as he walked towards the main doors. He put his hands behind his back, collecting his thoughts, and finally turned to face us, keeping his lips sealed.

Small conversations rumbled around the chamber, but were quickly hushed by Mother Bev.

‘I have been under the heel of the Nobles for thirty-seven years,’ Abb said. ‘Some of you have served longer, some of you are just getting started. During that time, I have learned a lot about the World Cried. Even in shackles, I have known love. Even against the whip, I have seen beauty. But mostly I have seen our struggle. We serve so we may survive, but today was different,’ Abb said quietly. ‘Today was wrong.’

A round of disagreeing huffs pocked the air, but Bev held her hands out for silence.

Abb continued: ‘If you truly believe this Cleansing was a normal part of Jadan life, then I suggest you look away now. For all you others …’ Abb slowly reached into his back pocket and held up my carving of the Opened Eye, finding a beam of starlight to illuminate the details. I gasped, as I thought I’d chucked the thing out into the dunes with the rest of the purge.

It took a moment for the onlookers to register what it was, and some shrieked, holding up the blankets to shield themselves. A few gasped like I had, sucking in quick breaths. Hagan winced away from the carving, as if he’d just been whipped, but Bev looked at the symbol as if it was a Frost.

‘This was their so-called blasphemy, but it is just a symbol. It is just a symbol until we decide it’s more. In thirty-seven years I have learned that the Nobles can punish us for disobedience,’ Abb said, his voice filling with steel. ‘They can punish us for lying. They can punish us for not meeting our quotas. They can punish us even out of boredom. As they alone hold life in their Patches.’ Abb took a deep breath, the carving beginning to shake in his hand. ‘But they cannot punish us for having hope. When we are not allowed to hope, then this life is already the eternal black. Whether it’s real or not, the Opened Eye is as much a part of our people as our chains. We must be like my son, and look at the things that can be changed. We cannot abandon—’

A metallic clinking sounded at the main doors, and Abb went silent, pushing the carving back in his pocket. Everyone turned towards the doors.

Gramble burst in, his eyes rimmed red as if he’d been crying. ‘Shut up! All of you! I try to let you have your peace, but I can’t pretend I don’t hear this commotion! Wasn’t today hard enough? Do you really want more lashes to fall on your shoulders?’ He slammed his hand against the door and a deep boom thrummed in the air. Then he waved about a piece of parchment with what looked like the Khat’s seal branded into the paper. ‘They sent these to all the barracks! If you knew what I’m supposed to— What she wants me to—’ He slammed his fist again, the door vibrating deeply. ‘Just go to bed!’

Then he crashed the doors shut as violently as he could, and locked us in.

Abb waited a few beats and then pointed to the hallway leading to his room. ‘All who want to discuss further about what we can do,’ he said, voice soft yet firm, ‘my quarters.’

Most Jadans turned away. I heard a few of them curse Abb under their breath for the carving. The Patchies all fled silently to their own private quarters, too obedient a bunch to make a fuss. But a small batch of the Builders and a few Domestics ignored their boilweed divisions and made their way towards Abb’s room, fear and determination fighting on their faces.

I joined them, surprised that all I felt was an overwhelming desire to go outside. Steeven was right when he said nothing had changed in terms of Cold still only falling for the Khat. But my new Idea – however impossible it might be – had to do with just that problem. The Cold only fell in the Patches, but it was still up there. It still existed above, in the heavens or the blackness. I touched Matty’s bird carving in my pocket, wondering yet again about the nature of flying. About the nature of how Cold fell to the land.