Coldmaker(71)

‘What happened to him?’ another voice asked.

‘I think he was tortured,’ Cam said, adjusting his golden glasses.

‘Course he was.’ The words were slightly slurred. ‘Khat-damn course he was.’

Silence.

‘Spout,’ Cam said, his attention returning to me. ‘Drink all of it.’

I tried harder, but the water still tasted brackish and thick, and every gulp was painful. As I regained full consciousness, I realized I was in a storage room, and that I’d been nestled on top of a pile of soft sheets.

A candle came closer to my face, making me cringe away. I still couldn’t make out the face behind it, and the light hurt my eyes.

‘Will it fix him?’ Cam asked, hopeful. ‘Can you fix him?’

A feeble laugh. ‘He’ll be up and getting tortured again in no time.’

‘He can help you, Leroi,’ Cam said. ‘He can do what you do.’

‘I hope that’s not true.’ The voice paused and I heard gulping sounds. ‘Because that’d make him just as useless.’

‘Drink, Spout.’

I choked down the last sip of my water, which burned my throat. My body began tingling, numbness rising through my feet, and things began to go dark again, the candle dimming right in front of my eyes. I smacked my lips and realized it wasn’t water I’d been drinking, and that everything about me was starting to sag. My lips felt the need to babble. ‘I have the Idea. The Crier said. The gold light. I know what I have to—’

‘Don’t try to talk, Spout,’ Cam said soothingly. ‘It’s one of Leroi’s tonics, to help you sleep. And to heal. We brought a wheelbarrow and a blanket to get you to the tinkershop so no one sees. Leroi is going to—’

‘Who says I’m going to do anything?’ the voice protested. ‘You said the Vicaress was after him.’

‘He’s smart, Leroi. You should have seen the music box, he—’

But I was gone.





Chapter Twenty-Four


‘Do you hate me?’

I don’t know how the man knew I was awake before I did, but I opened my eyes, and slowly sat up from the cot. I expected pain from my wounds, but all I felt was an intense hunger stretching down to my core.

My hand went to my stomach, the gurgling loud.

A small number of wax candles burned in the room. Considering one of the last things I remembered Cam mentioning was the tinkershop, I hadn’t expected to wake up in a dark, plain room with nothing but two padded chairs, a single table, and a small bed sitting flush against the back wall.

A man was hovering over the table, his silvered hair peeking out in all directions and a goatee surrounding his mouth. His lips were thin and thoughtful, and he had what was undoubtedly the palest complexion of any Noble I’d ever seen. The clothes hung loose on his frame, and it looked as though he hadn’t eaten in weeks.

Without a word, he unfolded his arms and pointed at the side of the cot. My eyes followed his fingers and I found half a dozen orangefruits sitting nearby. I dug in without further invitation, the hunger all-consuming, and bit straight into the rinds.

‘Camlish said you like those,’ the man said. ‘He brought them yesterday. The tonic works, but it burns up all your reserves.’

‘Yesterday?’ I asked between furious bites.

The man nodded, sitting down in his chair and pouring himself a drink from a decanter and then fitting the cork back on top. I could smell the tang of alcohol all the way from across the room.

‘You didn’t answer my question,’ the man asked, swirling the drink, the candlelight revealing a disturbed look that could have rivalled the Domestics’ in the garden. ‘Do you hate me?’

Needless to say, I was taken aback. Not only had I only just met the man, but if this was who I thought it was, he was in a position to teach me everything I wanted to know.

‘Are you Leroi?’ I asked, chewing the last bit of pulp from the first orangefruit.

He sucked his teeth. ‘Would it change your answer if I were?’

I nodded, diving into the next fruit. ‘I couldn’t hate a real Inventor.’

Leroi slammed his fist on the table. ‘I’m a High Noble. I’m your enemy. I’ll never be in line for the throne, but I’m a High blasted Noble.’ He spilled some of his drink to the floor, but didn’t seem to notice. ‘Descended from the first Khat’s bloodline. Whoop-a-dee-doo. Praise be to the bastard.’

I kept quiet, wondering whether this was all some sort of test.

The rest of his drink was gone in one gulp. His eyes fell upon the candle on the table and he went quiet for some time, staring into the flame.

‘Sir,’ I said carefully. ‘I—’

‘Jadan bodies tell stories.’ Leroi picked up the decanter, not letting his glass stay empty for long. ‘You’ve been whipped more times than I could count; cut; burned; tortured. Your arm’s been broken twice. You have no fat on you, so I know you’ve been starved most of your life. And even now, in my very Cold study, you’re sweating. Most slaves don’t do that. I’m guessing that’s where “Spout” comes from. Am I wrong?’

A finger went to my forehead. I was only nervous because I didn’t want to say something that might have all of this taken away. I was so close. If this was his study, then real inventions waited on the other side of the door.