Coldmaker(55)

‘Bless you, sonny,’ Humphrey said as we wandered into the stacks. ‘The World Cried needs more young Nobles like you.’

‘High Nobles!’ Cam corrected with a bratty smile.

‘Rightly said. High Noble indeed!’

I slumped over, wandering in Cam’s path, trying not to slip, as the boilweed sacks made me glide across the smooth stone floor.

‘Sorry,’ Cam whispered as he led me down the streets of scrolls and books, past many ceramic busts that seemed to be tossing me dirty looks. ‘I need to keep a low profile. Humphrey is nice to me, but all he reads is the damn Gospels and it has suffocated his mind. All these books don’t seem to inspire him to branch out.’

‘I understand,’ I whispered back.

Cam slapped himself on the back of the head. ‘At least now we’re even.’

I smiled.

‘Seriously though,’ Cam said. I could sense the regret in his tone. ‘I feel really terrible. I didn’t mean to bring up the Cleansing so casually, I’m so sorry—’

Just then another lantern bobbed around the corner, held by a stern-looking Noble holding a single book under his arm.

Cam cleared his throat and dropped into a harsh tone. ‘How dare you lag behind so far, slave. I should have you whipped for your incompetence.’

I moved closer, making a point of cowering. ‘Sorry, sir.’

Cam gave a frustrated huff and turned to the Nobleman. ‘Jadans. What are we to do?’

The Nobleman nodded but didn’t say anything, before moving down the row, picking up his pace.

‘I swear, your kind is about as stupid as—’ Cam stopped, making sure the man was out of earshot. ‘Anyway. I’m really sorry. I’m glad you’re alright though. I swear that this time, the Vicaress—’

A light bobbed out of the shadows, revealing a Noblewoman this time, her rosy lips pinched so tightly that I thought they might be in danger of fusing into one.

Cam brought himself to his full height. ‘The Vicaress is an inspiration for us all. Now don’t make me hurt you more, slave scum.’

‘Good for you, young sir,’ the Noblewoman said with a haughty grin. ‘Show them their place.’

‘I don’t even know why we keep these things around any more.’ Cam grabbed a handful of my uniform and dragged me down the rows. Once we were alone again, he let go, smoothing out the wrinkles he’d caused. ‘Sorry again.’ He bowed his head bashfully. ‘I hate how well I can play the part of the spoiled Noble brat.’

‘It’s like you’re a natural,’ I replied teasingly. My face immediately stiffened. The words had just slipped out, reminding me of something that Abb would have said, and I couldn’t believe my tongue had let go of something so foolish. This was a High Noble, not Moussa, and I couldn’t say things like that.

Cam’s eyes widened. ‘Did you … did you just make a joke?’

‘I’m so sorry,’ I lowered my head. ‘Please don’t—’

‘Thank the Crier,’ Cam said, pulling me into a one-armed hug, careful not to hit me with the lantern. ‘I was worried. You’re always so serious with me.’

Squeezed against him, I was reminded of how wonderful he smelled, and I pulled away carefully so as not to contaminate his clothes.

‘Cam. Why are we here?’ I asked quietly once he let me go. The events of the previous day still had me on edge.

‘Well, room six really does have thick walls,’ Cam whispered. ‘And I don’t want people to overhear what I have to say. Plus, there’s something in the library that I want you to see.’ He smiled, giving me a light punch on the shoulder. ‘I’m so happy you actually joked with me. Like I’m a natural. Hilarious.’

I nodded, wondering how this Noble boy had ended up being so different from the rest of his kin. He held the lantern out, ushering me down a new aisle, this one filled floor to ceiling with scrolls so old one breath from Sister Gale might rip them to shreds. At the end of the corridor hung a large painting, menacing even from this distance.

As we closed in on the painting, Cam’s good mood seemed to deflate. The painting depicted sprawling land, green and lush, slowly being consumed by fire. The dark-skinned figures in the foreground scrambled up a mountain towards a glowing piece of Cold, which, from its size, I assumed was a Frost. The Jadans were trampling on each other, pressing one another down into the flames. They all had bloody horns, fangs dripping with flesh, and wore wreaths of intestines across their chests like whips. And while they were busy bludgeoning each other with Cold, brandishing glass blades, and ripping off each other’s skin, the fire underneath crept closer to their feet.

It was the most horrific scene I’d ever witnessed.

Cam folded his arms across his chest. ‘“The Cause”, by Armus Josiah. Painted sixty-two years after the Great Drought.’

I’d heard of ‘The Cause’ before. Sometimes on the streets young Nobles would stop at my corner and look at my forehead, asking where my horns were. But even with all the descriptions, I hadn’t expected it to look so brutal.

I nodded, feeling that it might make me sick if I looked at it too long.

‘This painting,’ Cam said, ‘is one of the most notable works in existence. I wanted you to come here because I need you to understand something.’