Coldmaker(67)

Chapter Twenty-Two


I was still blinded by wool, but I knew that distinct creak of metal, blades lifting apart. The safety latch had been opened, and the fast little clicks were calling out, notches that had been dug into the pole to give warning that the mouth was about to bite.

I would have recognized those sounds anywhere.

Mostly because I’d built the damn thing.

‘Hmmm?’ the taskmaster said in front of me, followed by a rustle of cloth. ‘What the—’

I’d never heard the Stinger actually pierce flesh before, and the sound was uncomfortably satisfying. I felt a bit guilty for how sharp the blades must have been as they sliced through the guard’s skin, but then again, I’d designed it that way; to be faster, and with less mess.

Then came the whoosh of the springs, the pop of the trigger capsule, and I knew the guard was done for, poisoned with enough scorpion venom to take down two Slab Hagans. The guard made a few half-hearted grumbles, but they didn’t last long before his body hit stone.

The wool was peeled from my eyes, and the boilweed plucked from my mouth, and I came face to face with my rescuer, outlined by starlight. She had red Khatberry juice smeared over her face to lessen the shine of her lovely skin, and she blended well with the dark.

The guard was lying on his stomach, the Stinger lodged in his back, all three blades of the mouth buried in deep.

‘You should have given me two vials,’ Shilah said, a dark smile on her face. ‘What if there was another guard? How would I have saved you then?’

I spat out the globs of leftover blood and boilweed, and licked my dry lips. There was just enough moisture to make a few desperate sounds. I drew attention to the chains with a rattle of my numb arms. ‘Not saved yet.’

Shilah unslung a waterskin from her chest and tipped it up to my mouth, the cool relief splashing down my throat. I started to choke, and she slowed the flow, her fingers careful and tender. I looked over Shilah’s shoulder at Arch Road. It was empty save for the limp body, but I knew the Vicaress would be coming back soon.

‘How’d you find me?’ I asked.

She chuckled, walking her fingers through the air. ‘Like I said, you’re very slow. Turns out you’re even slower when you’re chained to a wall.’

I smiled, irritating a few blisters on my lips. ‘I didn’t tell her.’

‘About what?’

‘What do you think?’ I leaned in, the chains rattling. ‘I know what I have to do. What we have to do together. I think it’s why you’re here.’

‘I’m here because the Vicaress is an evil, lying, Sun-baked piece of shit. And she was hurting my partner.’ Shilah reached into her pocket and pulled out a few long threads of metal. ‘I assume you’ll be able to use these?’

I tried to flex my fingers. Nothing at first, but as the cool water began to splash across my insides, they freed up. I nodded to her palm. ‘That one. Third from the right.’

Shilah came close, her body folding against mine. Her dark hair brushed my chin and I inhaled her familiar smell.

‘You smell terrible,’ Shilah said with a smile, sniffing my neck. ‘You shouldn’t do this any more.’

I angled the metal into the shackles and began to feel for the give in the lock. Her eyes were narrowed as she scrutinized it herself. Catching the look on my face at her proximity, she winked at me, but kept her gaze focused. ‘Just pretend I’m your Cold Wrap.’

I moved the metal in and out more quickly, trying to find the release. The Khatberry juice on Shilah’s skin made her smell like the Garden. But I couldn’t afford this kind of distraction. We needed a plan.

‘We have to go to the Manor,’ I said.

‘What Manor?’

‘Cam’s Manor. The High Nobleboy from the library,’ I said, almost tripping the pin. ‘He’ll take you in too. Partner.’

I could feel her body tense up at the declaration. ‘A High Noble Manor?’

‘I spoke to …’ I knew how foolish it was going to sound, but the promise I’d made still rang in my ears. ‘I think I spoke to the Crier.’

‘What are you babbling about? I can get you more water.’

I paused. ‘I think I died. And talked to Him.’

She finally pulled away from me, dropping her gaze from the shackles. ‘You sound pretty confident for a dead person.’

‘Maybe not died then,’ I said, wishing she could feel what was in my heart. The Ice. The voice. ‘But I went somewhere beyond. And He told me I had to invent it.’

‘Invent what?’

‘Langria.’

Shilah’s voice took on an edge as she tapped under her shirt where I knew the map would be. ‘How about we just find it? I think that might be easier than building it from scratch.’

I shook my head, resolute. ‘It’s not real yet. We have to make it.’

Shilah burst out laughing. ‘I knew showing Little Langria would give you ideas, but I didn’t think you’d take it this far.’

‘What?’ I asked. ‘I’m being serious. The Crier told me Langria’s not real. But I have an Idea that—’

Shilah’s playfulness was gone. ‘You’re not joking?’

I shook my head, tripping the lock in one of the shackles, and moving to the other. ‘I’m going to fly.’