Coldmaker(6)

The three of us huddled together in a corner of the common chamber, away from the shabby grey flaps that divided the family sleeping areas. Sitting on the sandy floor, our legs were crossed and knees touched so we’d take up the least amount of space.

‘What did I get you?’ I asked. ‘I never thought you would be so greedy.’

Moussa scowled for the group, but aimed a private wink my way. ‘Grit in your figs, Matty. It’s Micah’s birthday. You should just be glad that he got home safe.’

Matty’s face turned bashful. ‘Spout always gets me something when he goes out. Always.’

‘You have got to stop calling him that.’ Moussa let out a pained sigh. ‘Don’t you know that no one calls him that any more?’

I shrugged. In truth, most Jadans in our barracks – and indeed in the streets – still called me Spout, a nickname I’d come to terms with a long time ago. It wasn’t just enough that my loose forehead wasted more water than other Jadans my age, they had to remind me of the fact.

‘I don’t mind “Spout”,’ I said. ‘As long as Matty doesn’t mind me sweating on any future gifts.’

Matty lowered his head, eyes going to his lap where his hand was stroking the small feather that I’d fashioned him from metal and fabric. I don’t know why Matty kept up this fascination. Clearly the creatures were extinct, no possible way they could survive in the harsh conditions after the Great Drought.

‘Did’ja see any birds?’ Matty asked, his tone still hopeful, even after all this time.

‘Here’s the thing,’ Moussa said, giving Matty’s ear a playful flick. ‘Why would a creature live in the sky and choose to be close to the Sun? You should know it would crisp up after a few flaps.’

I rehearsed what would surely be Matty’s next words, holding back my smirk. My small yet vibrant friend said the same thing every time: You know, Cold lives up—

‘Y’know,’ Matty said right on cue, guarding the side of his head against another flick. ‘Cold lives up in the sky too. So if there was any birds left, they’d prolly come out at night.’

‘No sign of birds yet,’ I said, cutting off whatever cutting remark Moussa was preparing. ‘But I promise if I see one, I’ll lure it back for you.’

‘Y’know that they sing, don’cha, Moussa?’ Matty said, swiping the feather through a small pillar of light that was sneaking through the ceiling. ‘You could prolly lure one down, if you tried hard enough.’

I looked over at Moussa, hoping the talk of music might cheer him up a little, but he said nothing, his expression remaining sombre. Moussa’s Patch birthday was nearing, and lately he hadn’t been in the singing mood, which was too bad, as his voice was arguably the best in the barracks. On top of that, Sarra and Joon had taken to spending their free hours in one of the empty boilweed divisions, which I imagine didn’t help Moussa feel any less forlorn.

Matty tucked the metal feather behind his ear, licking his dry lips. My small friend looked almost as ready for water as me. ‘One day you’re both gonna see I’m right. I know it.’

‘Doubtful,’ Moussa said under his breath.

‘However, I do have gifts.’ I leaned forward conspiratorially, trying to brighten the mood. ‘And news.’

Matty stuck out his palm, his smile practically spanning the common area.

I produced the marble nose chunk. ‘For our game. I figured you’d know what to do with it.’

Matty wiggled his eyebrows in delight, taking the carving and holding it up to his face. ‘Howsit look?’

‘A bit big,’ Moussa said with a contemplative look. ‘But you should know, most things are big compared to you.’

Matty stuck out his tongue. ‘Just wait some years. When I’m turning fifteen like Spout I’m going to rest my elbow on your head all the time.’

Moussa craned his neck to full height. ‘We’ll see about that.’

I then pulled out the box of gem candy remains and laid it on the hard sand at Moussa’s feet, opening the lid. ‘For you.’

‘It’s not my birthday yet – thank the Crier,’ Moussa replied, shaking his head. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of gears, nearly free of rust, and with most of their teeth. ‘For you.’

My eyes went wide with shock. ‘Where? How did you … Thank you. They’re perfect.’

‘They’re not much.’

I put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Once I need them, they’ll be everything. Tinkering is only fun when you have things to tinker with.’

Matty’s face dropped, guilt flooding his face, and he tried to hand the Khat nose back to me. ‘For you?’

I laughed. ‘Just figure out a place for it in the game. That’s good enough for me. It’s about time we finished that thing.’

‘I should of got’cha something,’ Matty groaned.

‘Really, I don’t need anything else.’

Keeping his head slumped, Matty reached out his arm and tilted his hand backwards, offering up his ‘calm spot’. I touched my thumb to the splotchy birthmark on his wrist, which for some reason comforted my young friend whenever he felt like he’d done something wrong.

‘Family,’ Matty said.