Coldmaker(64)

Apparently anger also made me sweat.

I was discovering this new fact about myself, heart stewing with rage, as I stood on my corner and thought about the vile things the Nobles made us suffer. They were ruthless and calculating but most of all, they were liars. We weren’t punished for our misdoings, and never would be. We’d been fed lies, all in the name of hoarding Cold.

Every other Jadan seemed delighted at their fortunes, bodies full of food and Cold, and getting some time to rest on their corners. Thoth had announced we’d all remain unusable until the white smoke disappeared above the Temples, and that we should spend our time thanking the Crier for His gifts and mercy.

But I’d spent long enough thinking about the Crier. My mind turned instead to the decision ahead of me.

It was simple: either I ran away in search of freedom, or took Cam’s offer and spent my days tinkering.

Either way, I was on my way to a better life.

At least that’s what I thought, until the Vicaress returned with my name on her lips, two taskmasters at her back.

I couldn’t hear her voice, as she was at the far end of Arch Road, but I could see her mouth forming the word Spout, and Thoth’s finger swooping towards my corner.

She sauntered my way, with a black wool cap dangling in her hand. I met her eyes, and they were full of mockery, the blue colour startling in its brightness. The taskmasters marched behind, one of them holding a pole with a loop on the end, the other holding a giant hammer.

I tried to cool myself, but my chest was full of fire.

‘Observe,’ the Vicaress said, as they arrived in front of me, ‘he already knows why I’m here. Look at all that sweat.’

Thoth snorted. ‘Unfortunately, Highness, that’s normal for him.’

The Vicaress smiled at me, her gloved fingers gliding across my cheek. ‘The Crier knows, child.’

I swallowed hard, and she backhanded my face, hard and swift.

‘That’s the opposite of what we need from you.’ She rubbed the wool in her fingers. ‘We need everything to come out. All your dirty little secrets.’

I made sure not to move.

‘Do you have anything to say for yourself?’ the Vicaress asked calmly. ‘Anything you’ve been hiding, Spout?’

‘His given name is Micah, Highness,’ Thoth said, adjusting his scarf.

She leaned in and licked my sweat off the tip of her gloves. ‘I taste what you’ve been hiding, Spout.’

My body flooded with dread, but I begged myself not to let it show. I kept reminding myself that this enemy was a false prophet, and that she had no power over me.

But what had brought her back, and straight to my corner?

The Vicaress licked her lips, lush and red and plump, and then she stretched the wool out and slipped the cap over my ears. In an instant I felt the heat, the Sun diving into the black wool as if it was a long-lost lover. There was enough of a gap under my eyes that I could see her black sandals, but other than that the hat obscured my vision completely.

Her voice was close to my ear, so soft that only I could hear. ‘Your friend Moussa gave you up. He chose the black Wisp, and it took quite a bit of Cleansing to get him to scream, but eventually he did. Everyone does when the Crier’s wrath is involved.’

I heard the crackle of fire, and I smelled her blade come to life. The suffering had begun, my head was sweltering, and I knew things were only about to get worse. I couldn’t think about the Vicaress torturing Moussa. That would only make me break, and I wouldn’t break.

Someone clapped, drawing the sound of padding feet. I took a steadying breath, trying not to let the fear make me stupid. I couldn’t fall apart before knowing what the Vicaress wanted to know. I could still try to lie my way to freedom.

One of the taskmasters grabbed my arm, my body jerking in surprise. He responded with a hefty smack to my face. Then my other arm was grabbed, and my hands were chained together. There was the sound of metal hammering into stone above my head, and I tried not to let the tremors shake my heart.

Already the wool was soaked with my sweat, and the manacles were cutting off my circulation. The chain hanging from my arms was then locked to a pole the taskmasters had driven into the wall above my head, and I knew there was little chance I’d be leaving my corner alive.

But I wouldn’t break.

Whatever they wanted to know about my tinkering ideas, or the Shiver, or about Abb’s meeting, I wouldn’t let them have it.

A Jadan Garden existed.

The Crier was not on the Vicaress’s side, and chained or not, I would not die her slave.

She waved her blade under my nose so I might smell its acrid flames.

‘Spout,’ her voice was sweet and tender, ‘there’s no point denying it. Moussa has told me everything. So we’re going to sit here and play a few games, with all of your dirty Jadan friends watching, until you tell me everything you know.’

Her blade brushed against the skin of my arm and sent pain jumping into my skull.

Then the Vicaress peeled up the hat just enough for her tongue to hiss in my ear. ‘Where is Shilah hiding?’





Chapter Twenty-One


The sand beneath my feet opened up and swallowed me whole.

And I fell towards black water.

And fell fast. There was no wind at my sides, just a wash of heat running away from the waters below, shooting back up towards the crack of light through which I’d fallen. I wanted to cry out, but my voice didn’t listen, as it was already riding the heat up and away. I grasped, desperate fingers swimming through stifling air, but the harder I pushed, the harder my hands struggled against thick silence.