Gates of Thread and Stone(19)

Sometimes, with the shop counter between us, it was easy to look at Avan and admire him from the safe standpoint of a friend, to see him as just a boy from the Alley.

And sometimes, like now, with his body heat still clinging to the front of my shirt, the sight of his silhouette through the mottled windows left me unbalanced, and I didn’t know if reaching out would steady me or knock me off my feet. And because it was Avan, I wasn’t sure I would mind either way.

Beyond the freight containers, I could make out the lumpy mounds of the junkyard. My school friends and I used to explore its precarious hills on quiet mornings after Reev went to work. It was always exciting when we found pieces of things that hinted at the city’s past.

The city’s original name—illegible in the maps from the records hall—had been discarded and forgotten, but some of the city’s history and traditions remained archived. This had once been a bustling fishing town filled with seafaring people. They had worshiped mahjo who could manipulate wind and water. The cliffs hadn’t existed before Rebirth, and the sea had risen right up to what was now the White Court.

You wouldn’t think it, seeing the city as it was now, but we’d found evidence of its past there in the junkyard: the skeletal remnants of boats, rotted masts, stray anchors, and rusty hooks. After one girl got a hook caught in her palm, we had to stop exploring the yard because Reev found out from her parents. His disappointment had always been so much worse than any punishment.

I looked away from the shapes in the distance and scooted up on the saddle to examine the gears along the Gray’s neck. I should’ve watched more closely when he turned it on. I reached for a switch just as the light from Avan’s house went dark. A moment later, I saw a tall shape moving through the night.

He carried a metal box in one hand and a sputtering lantern in the other. I slid off the saddle to give him room.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Replacing the energy stone.” He opened the creature’s chest again, tools in hand, and began unscrewing things.

I sat in front of his door, folding my hands on top of my knees. “Looks complicated.”

“Not really,” he said, his face lit by the yellow glow of the lantern. “But I’m just replacing the stone. I’d need a blacksmith for anything else.”

After a few minutes, he withdrew the energy stone. It looked as if he was removing the Gray’s heart. He placed it carefully inside his tool kit and then withdrew from the kit another energy stone. Even at rest, this one glowed dimly.

“Where’d you get that?” Most people could afford only one energy stone a month and didn’t have spares lying around. But with Avan’s connections, it didn’t surprise me.

“Ripped it out of my energy box.”

I jumped up. “What? Why? You’ll need that in the winter.”

Winter here lasted a month, but without the Sun, the temperature could plummet to a wicked cold overnight.

“I appreciate the indignation, but it’s not a big deal. I have the room at the shop.”

“You hate it there.” He’d never said as much, but his every action had made it obvious.

He shrugged. Neither of us voiced what we both must’ve been thinking—that it wouldn’t matter anyway. If we left Ninurta, it wasn’t likely either of us would be coming back.

He reconnected screws and bits of metal, and closed the panel. “All set.”

He put the tool kit inside his place and shut the door. He didn’t lock it. I wanted to tell him he should. It was his home. Why would he give it up, for me of all people?

We were friends, but we weren’t . . . I hardly knew anything about his personal life other than what I’d heard, and I didn’t ask for the same reason I’d never asked Reev about his past—I was afraid to push too far and lose him.

“You should stay,” I said. “Show me how to use the Gray.”

He didn’t even respond, just pulled himself into the saddle and tilted his head at me, waiting.

“Avan,” I said. “Your mom needs you. Your dad . . .” Avan and his dad had a rough relationship, one I didn’t pretend to know about. But, in spite of that, he still took care of his dad and the shop. “He needs you, too.”

Everything warm and comforting about him drained from his face, leaving behind a cool blankness. “You don’t know anything about what he needs.”

If he had shown sadness, I might have been shamed into silence. Instead, I was angry. I knew talking about his family was taboo, but I wouldn’t be intimidated into shutting up. This was about more than just him or me.

“I know that your family needs you. You should stay with them.”

It was too dark to see his eyes clearly, but I felt their intensity. Now that I had given voice to my objection, I couldn’t back down until he said something.

When the tension grew too thick for the space between us, he said, “I know.”

“Show me how to use the Gray.”

“You remember that time you kicked my dad?”

I frowned, caught off guard. Avan never talked about his dad by choice. “Um. Yeah. You wouldn’t talk to me for weeks after.”

His chin dipped, and he looked down at me. “I never got around to thanking you.”

“I thought you were pissed at me.”