Kitabı oku: «Coldmarch», sayfa 2

His words trailed to a murmur as he pulled out a stack of books. A little blue tome in the middle caught my attention, looking about as old as the Khatdom itself. The writing on the spine was white and languid, and also somehow … familiar? I couldn’t quite make out the design in the dim light. I also quickly lost interest, as Shilah had just taken my hands and moved it to her naked lower back.

‘Here,’ she said. ‘Where the sweat gathers.’

I reapplied the perfume and began spreading it across her skin, trying not to linger at the dimples studding her backside. I allowed my fingers to move slowly, nearly forgetting about the hungry creatures clamouring for our blood. Shilah leaned into my touch and time slowed to a crawl – which was most welcome, as every breath had the possibility of being my last.

‘And my hair, too,’ she said.

I dabbed the rosemusk into her locks, making sure to massage her scalp. Her head rolled along with my touch. All of a sudden her eyes flicked over, boring into mine with strong passion.

‘We can change things,’ she whispered. ‘We have to change things. Look at how far we’ve come.’

I nodded. ‘But the hounds—’

She took my hand in hers, gripping tightly. ‘Are nothing. We made the Coldmaker. We’re going to get through this together.’

I saw that my fingers had dried faster than I would have liked, and so Shilah spun me around and emptied the bottle, holding me still with one hand and spreading the perfume evenly with the other. Wherever her fingers traced I felt life blossom, and I was suddenly aware that the room had filled with the potency of a hundred gardens.

Shilah’s hand lingered on my forearm as she put the empty bottle down, her voice going back to normal volume. ‘Now let’s just hope all the perfume doesn’t attract suspicion from outside, then—’

‘Not you!’ a voice groaned from the back of the shop. ‘Curse this whole Sun-damned land, not you, Spout.’

All three of us spun around to watch the figure sweeping her way out of the dark. It couldn’t have been Mama Jana, however, as the shopkeeper I knew was always meticulously maintained, not a grey hair out of place. The approaching figure was dressed as poorly as the dead-cart Jadans, with dirt smeared all over her face and more rips in her clothes than Cam. Her hair was the same shade of grey as the real Mama Jana, but it was frayed like a broomstick. Heavy shadows tugged at her eyes. She wandered through a beam of light seeping in from the space beneath the closed window, revealing the face of the kind Noblewoman I once knew. I couldn’t fathom what sort of darkness must have devoured her and left this hag in its wake.

‘Not you,’ Mama Jana said again, dropping the knife in her hand. ‘You were supposed to be safe.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I said, tucking my chin to my chest in shame.

Cam looked shocked. ‘Mama Jana! Were you sleeping somewhere back there?’

Mama Jana walked right up to Cam and poked him in the chest, her fingernails broken and chipped. For the first time since I’d known her, the nails weren’t painted any particular colour, which was even further cause for worry.

‘You were supposed to take the boy back to the Manor, Camlish,’ she snarled. ‘You were going to keep him safe.’

‘I did,’ Cam said, backing away, keeping his eyes off the fig basket. He nearly stumbled over a wooden chest trying to find reprieve from her gaze. ‘I tried. But you don’t understand—’

The next horn blast from outside was muffled, but distinct.

Closer.

‘What happened, Camlish?’ Mama Jana asked, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. ‘Why the hounds, and why are you wearing a girl’s Paphesian flutter-dress?’

Cam glanced down at his shirt with a hearty frown. ‘Is that what this is? They just looked like regular robes to me …’

‘We need your help,’ Shilah said, stepping in between them, standing tall.

Mama Jana gave Shilah a fleeting look and then did a double-take. Her eyes widened, the streaks of dirt making her aged face look demonic. ‘Aren’t you Veronica’s daugh—’

‘We’re in danger,’ Shilah said. ‘Can you hide us? Please. I heard you used to be a Marcheye. That’s why I brought us here.’

I cocked my head. A Marcheye?

‘Your mother told you about that?’ Mama Jana asked, mouth gaping. ‘But you’re too young for the ceremonies. And besides, it was shut down ten years ago.’

Shilah stood rod straight, her eyes flitting around the room, almost as if ignoring the Noblewoman standing in front of her.

‘And you said nothing to anyone?’ Mama Jana asked, lump visibly forming in her fleshy throat. ‘You didn’t try the March, did you?’

‘Nothing,’ Shilah said, puffing further with pride. ‘No.’

‘Mama Jana,’ I said, giving the shopkeeper a respectful bow. She seemed smaller and more hunched than I remembered. ‘I’m sorry that we came here and burdened you. But we have good reason. We—’

And then a pang in my chest, seizing my words.

‘What is it, child?’ Mama Jana asked, looking me over with concern.

I shook my head, unable to speak over the rebounding emptiness.

Shilah gave me a concerned glance and then picked up where I had left off. ‘We discovered something that’s going to change the whole World Cried.’

‘Please help us,’ Cam added, bowing, which was something the High Nobles never did for the lowborn Nobles. ‘It will pay you back for the figs a hundredfold.’

‘Oh, I don’t give a beetleskin about the figs, Camlish!’ Mama Jana was nearly snarling. ‘You were supposed to keep him safe!’

I was about to grab the Coldmaker out of my bag and show Mama Jana, but she waved me still and quiet.

‘No more talking,’ she said, navigating the dark shop as easily as a whip snapping through open air. ‘No more talking until we get down to the chamber. The hounds can hear almost as well as they can smell.’

Mama Jana’s shop only had the one level. I’d been there dozens of times and never noticed any stairs or hidden doors. There was no chamber.

Mama Jana grabbed one of her fancy canvas bags and began stuffing our soiled clothes away, staining the inside with our sweat and dirt and sand. ‘It was a smart idea to change clothes and scents, Spout. I’d expect nothing less from you, but it’s not enough. You need to be away from here.’

I went to open my mouth, but her glare could have cooked clay to brick.

‘No talking,’ she spat, her eyes flicking over to the drawer where I’d discovered the rosemusk and clay urns. ‘I mean it.’

She grabbed our clothes bag that must have stunk like a taskmaster’s armpit and gestured for us to follow her to the back of the shop. Keeping the Coldmaker tight against my side, I followed through the darkness, the pungent smell of flowers clinging to us.

Mama Jana stopped at her giant Khatclock with the Closed Eye for a face. Even though the huge timekeeper was a beautiful display of craftsmanship, I’d never paid it much mind. Besides the giant timepiece being a looming symbol of Jadan inferiority, it was also broken, its two hands forever stiff. The Khatclock only ever pointed in one direction, straight up. Mama Jana had never asked me to take a look inside the machine to see if I could get the gears and cogs working, and so I’d never offered.

‘Wait here,’ she said, eyes already planning her route back through the dark shop. She threw the bag of soiled clothes at Cam’s feet. ‘And say nothing.’

I gave my friends a confused look, which was returned by a helpless shrug from Cam, and a perplexing smile from Shilah.

Mama Jana careened around the room gathering things with the swiftness of a wraith. Darkness nor clutter were able to stop her. She gathered clothes, waterskins, velvet bags of Cold, assorted vials, and a compass. Last she grabbed the half-empty basket of figs, balancing it in the palm of her hand. Another series of horn blasts sounded outside and my stomach seized up.

I ran my fingers against the smooth bronze metal of the Coldmaker, my nails scraping along the engraved Opened Eye I’d carved with a hammer and chisel. The machine was small enough to fit in my arms, but still quite heavy, as it was made mostly of dense bronze. It also walled in a whole Frost, and was filled with salt water, two of the main components that made the invention work. Jadan tears were dropped onto the Frost inside, which caused a visceral reaction at the catch-point. I didn’t know exactly why it worked that way, but the machine’s presence bestowed me with strength and kept me from having a breakdown; so even if it weighed more than a whole caravan cart, I would have found a way to keep it by my side.

Mama Jana reappeared as fast as she had gone, shoving the basket of figs into Cam’s hands and the bags of supplies into mine. ‘Free of charge. My first flock in so long.’

‘Mama Jana, what’s—’

She put a hand to her lips, cutting me off and giving me a stern look. ‘No. Talking.’

I nodded, hearing every rapid beat of my heart in my ears. Shilah looked far too calm considering the circumstances, as if none of this surprised her. Cam at least looked as lost as I did, as he was drenched in sweat, and squirming with a hand over his stomach as if he was about to spew.

Mama Jana pulled back the glass face of the Khatclock and took hold of the spindly hands. Before doing anything else, she gave me a look, as though she’d been waiting on this moment for some time.

‘North.’ Mama Jana nodded, and then spun the hands one full rotation. ‘The March is always North.’

As the Khatclock’s hands completed their circle, the entire Closed Eye face opened with a faint click, revealing a startling display of strange writing beneath the mechanical lid. The whole clock swung forwards, revealing a hidden hole that was lit faintly by a distant flickering light. The dark corridor led to descending stairs not unlike the ones in Leroi’s study, and brought with it a frightful sense of dread, reminding me what had happened last time we took one of these secret passageways.

Mama Jana put a hand on my back and gently nudged me along, handing me the soiled clothes to take with us. ‘Go, children. I’ll seal you in and hold them off as long as I can. It’s airtight, so those foul beasts shouldn’t be able to smell you. Remember, the March is always North. Follow the signs, and when you get to the shack, ask for Split the Pedlar. He probably won’t answer to Shepherd any more. Now, hurry!’

I went to spin around, but Mama Jana’s arms were stronger than I remembered. ‘Wait, what March?’

‘The Coldmarch,’ she said, glancing over her shoulder at the front door.

Cam gasped, sucking in a breath so fast he almost choked. ‘It’s real?’

Mama Jana licked her cracked lips, her eyes feverish and crazed. ‘It used to be real. And I guess it is again. Now take these words with you if you can. Hold on. Okay, let me remember. Shemma hares lah …’ She stopped, her tongue rolling on the roof of her mouth, struggling to find the next part. ‘Shemma hares lahyim her— no, that’s not it.’ She flexed her gnarled hands with frustration. ‘It’s been a while. Let me get the Book of the March.’

I clutched the Coldmaker more tightly against my side and offered: ‘Shemma hares lahyim criyah Meshua ris yim slochim.’

From the look of shock, I thought Mama Jana was about to faint.

‘My father told them to me,’ I explained.

The sharp memories of Abb made me bite down on my tongue, and I might have drawn blood.

Mama Jana composed herself with a sigh, but her words moved quickly. ‘Fitting for such a name. Now go. There’s still a lantern burning, and candles. Take the lantern with you, you’ll need it. Move with caution as there are certain dangers down there. Eat the lizards if you must. You’ll find water eventually. What am I forgetting? Hmm. I was just down there … don’t stop, even if you hear my voice behind you …’ The circles under her eyes deepened. ‘I’ve not broken yet, but the Vicaress has certain ways.’

‘The Coldmarch is real,’ Cam said to himself, looking quite flustered. ‘I can’t believe it. My father always said “If the Khat can’t find it, it’s not real.”’

Mama Jana said nothing, just made another shooing motion, brushing us towards the dark.

I rifled through my bag until I found one of the loose Abbs, handing it over.

She took the Abb gently, holding it up against the bit of light trickling in from the passageway. ‘What it is, Spout?’

‘Put a slice of it in water and tell as many people as you can,’ I said, keeping my voice hushed so she wouldn’t yell at me.

Mama Jana gave me a curious look, but the horn calls were explosive now, even through the walls of the shop. She finally brushed us through the threshold and swung the Khatclock back in place, sealing us away.

Chapter Three

Grabbing the lantern from the bottom of the stairs, I lifted it high so we might get our bearings. Glancing back at the Khatclock, I found the space now to be one solid wall, not even a single crack where a horn or a shout might pass through. I knew there had to be a way to slip back into the shop, but I found no sign of a knob or release, and from Mama Jana’s tone it didn’t sound like she intended for us even to try.

Spinning around, I let the light shine down the empty corridor that stretched deep into the earth. The passageway was wide enough to accommodate us if we walked in single file, the walls so smooth they almost looked wet. The air tasted strange in my mouth, and not just because of our collective rosemusk bath. I smacked my dry lips. The air was so much cooler than back up in the shop, but I saw nothing in the way of Cold Bellows. The temperature must have been natural.

The passage took a sharp turn left after about ten paces, cutting off sight to whatever lay beyond.

Cam put his forehead against the clay wall, closing his eyes and taking a moment before speaking. ‘It’s real. I knew it.’

‘You know what this place is?’ I asked, feeling rather childish as nightmare images jumped into my mind. I knew I should be thanking the Crier for the incredibly fortunate fact that Mama Jana had a passageway out of her shop, but ever since childhood I’d been bombarded with stories of haunted holes and cracks in the land. Places where the unforgiving spirits lived, bottled up and angry.

Beneath the ground was where the foul creatures lurked, plotting how they might make it up to the surface where they could partner with Sun and do his bidding. Sobek lizards and sand-vipers would be the least of our problems down here, and a part of me wondered if it would be better to take our chances with the hounds.

Cam kept his head pressed against the wall, but looked at me with a small tear dotting the corner of his eye beneath his glasses. His face was still blood red from exhaustion, but at least he was smiling. ‘I mean, I knew it was real, and you did invent a miracle. And my father really is a monster, but this proves everything once and for all. I would go back to the library and burn all those paintings and—’

‘Cam, stop babbling and talk to me,’ I said carefully.

Lifting himself away from the wall, I thought he might start dancing. He threw his arms wide. ‘Spout, you’re going to change Sun-damned EVERYTHING! And I get to help you!’

‘Keep it down, idiot,’ Shilah snapped at him, pointing to the door.

Cam gave an embarrassed nod, his chest rising and falling with incredible speed.

‘I would have thought you were a true believer when you took us in, Camlish?’ Shilah said with an eyebrow raised, standing in the centre of the chamber with her arms crossed over her chest.

‘Why am I the only confused one?’ I asked. ‘What is the Coldmarch?’

‘I’m surprised you haven’t heard the stories,’ Cam said, standing straight and grabbing at the end of his Opened Eye necklace. ‘I would have thought it would have been pretty common lore in the barracks.’

I shook my head slowly.

‘The Coldmarch,’ Shilah said, stepping up to me and putting a hand on my shoulder. ‘There’s a reason I kept bugging you about leaving the Manor. There’s already a path to Langria.’ She paused, considering something. ‘Or there was.’

‘Hold on,’ I said, needing a moment. ‘Just stop. We don’t know what’s down there. Just … hold on. This tunnel goes all the way to Langria?’

Shilah pointed back up the stairs with an impatient look. ‘Like she said, the Vicaress has her ways of getting information, and I don’t want to be near that clock if the hounds track our scent to the shop. Now come on, I’ll fill you in as we walk.’

‘You told me dozens of stories before we went to sleep on those cots.’ I suddenly felt a tad betrayed. ‘Why wouldn’t you tell me about an existing path to Langria?’

‘Like I told Mama Jana, I’m a girl of my word.’ Shilah kissed her finger and waved it at the sealed entrance in some foreign gesture of gratitude.

Did I really know anything about this girl?

She grabbed the lantern, holding it at arm’s length as she traipsed down the passageway, forcing back shadows.

Cam wiped his single tear from his cheek and held it out towards the Coldmaker, his excitement dipping. ‘I wish you could use it to make Ice. One day the Crier will forgive me.’

I had no idea what to say to such a thing.

‘Maybe one day,’ Cam said again with a hopeful shrug. ‘Maybe I can be chosen, too. A Jadan, like you both.’

Even the finest Inventor in the World Cried couldn’t tinker with someone’s blood, but still I said: ‘I’m sure.’

Shilah kept quiet, but I could see what she burned to say.

‘Come on,’ I said. ‘We have to hurry.’

Cam took both the supply bags, the dirty clothes and the basket of figs, not seeming to mind the burden, leaving me to carry only the Coldmaker, which I clutched dearly against my hip.

Shilah led us through the tunnel and I followed last in line, my head swarming with visions and possibilities.

‘The Coldmarch,’ Shilah said, only loud enough for me to get a trace of her words, ‘is a web of stops, stretches, and people along the path North. It’s a journey, not necessarily a place. There were hidden chambers like these run by Jadans and Noble sympathizers all across the Khatdom, set up so they could usher people in secret. Obviously no one could dig out a tunnel all the way from Paphos to Langria, as that would take all the Builders in the world thousands of lifetimes.’ She looked back with a wink. ‘I thought you were smarter than that, Spout.’

The way she said it, playful and wry, didn’t seem to connect, and I had no joke in response. I wasn’t in the mood to joke anyway.

‘Some brilliant Inventor could have come up with a digging machine to do all that work,’ Cam said. ‘I’ve seen some pretty impressive things in the tinkershop.’ He looked back over his shoulder, beaming. ‘That your next invention idea, Spout? I have to say, you’ll need something rather big to follow up’ – he gestured with his elbow to my bag – ‘a miracle.’

‘Flight,’ I said without pause. I expected a pang to strike my heart like a battering ram, but nothing shook. I thought back to my time under Thoth’s wool hat. I wondered what Matty might say if he could see me now, protecting something that could change the world, walking through the dark veins of myth. ‘Flight is next.’

Cam smirked. ‘If anyone can do it, I’d bet my Cold on you.’

‘What Cold?’ Shilah whispered with a scoff. ‘You don’t have any claim to the Abbs.’

‘I brought you the Frost!’ he said.

‘You mean the one that your father stole from the hardworking Patch Jadans?’

‘Wait.’ Cam suddenly stopped short, and I nearly crashed into his back. ‘This is wrong.’

I looked from side to side for talons or teeth. A drunken Levi had once assured our barracks that hounds’ eyes glowed red before the beasts pounced.

Cam shook his head, pressing himself flat against the side of the cave wall. ‘You go in the middle of us, Spout.’

‘Why?’

‘Just do it. You deserve to be in front of me.’

‘No, it’s okay, I can—’

‘Just. Please,’ Cam insisted, pressing himself harder, his face squished against the cool rock.

‘Why?’ I asked.

Shilah sighed from up front. ‘Boys. Hounds.’

‘And maybe worse,’ I said under my breath.

Cam tried to angle his way behind me, sliding along the smooth walls, his loose shirt and bags dragging. I tried to stop him and we did an awkward dance, both of us shimmying backwards.

‘What are you doing?’ I asked.

‘You’re the most valuable of us,’ Cam said, not meeting my eyes. ‘You stay in the middle. Just in case.’

All of a sudden the Coldmaker felt very heavy.

I didn’t say anything, letting Cam filter around in front of me. He was still balancing the basket of figs in one hand, and I snatched one, shoving it in my mouth and biting down hard, hoping some food might help me feel more normal.

‘Let me at least take the bag of dirty clothes,’ I said between bites.

‘I need to carry them.’ Cam craned his neck so he could see Shilah. ‘This is also for you, you know.’

Shilah kept walking, her back straight as the edge of a knife. ‘Drop the dirty clothes, Camlish. Mama Jana just needed them out of the shop.’

I was surprised how authoritative Shilah could sound. Cam gave a conceding shrug and did as commanded, tossing the bag aside and giving it a frustrated kick as he passed it.

We followed the corridor around a bend and found that the ceiling sloped lower and the walls pinched closer. I’d never had a problem with tight spaces before, but something about being underground made the musty air – cool as it may have been – feel as if it was going to suffocate us. My chest felt tight, and I dug my thumbs into my ribs, trying to loosen the knot.

Shilah didn’t seem to mind, and she picked up the pace, guiding us deeper into the dark.

‘Anyway,’ she said, ‘the Coldmarch has been kept extremely secret for obvious reasons. No mention of it in writing, and everyone involved kept about as tight-lipped as they could. The March supposedly only let a handful of Jadans North every year, most always young girls. It was shut down a while back, apparently ten years, but I don’t know why.’

‘But why would they shut down something like this?’ I asked. ‘Every Jadan should have known. No. Every Jadan should have gone.’

I drew my fingers along the wall. Feeling the stone, the damp texture and tiny imperfections, I understood the importance of such a place as this. That didn’t mean I wasn’t detached. I was walking through a secret that could have started a revolution, a place that proved us chosen, or at the very least worthy, and I should have been struck with something powerful. Awe perhaps. Disbelief maybe. Flames of righteous indignation. Something that infused life back into my soul.

But all I could feel was the stone.

My father was gone.

Shilah shrugged, urging us onwards. ‘Maybe the Khat found out. Maybe something changed. I imagine the whole situation was delicate to begin with.’

‘If the Khat found out about it,’ Cam said, all of a sudden looking very pale. ‘That means we might be walking right into their hands.’

Shilah picked up the pace. ‘Yes. It’s possible.’

Cam stopped. ‘So …’

‘So we have no choice, Camlish,’ Shilah said, holding the lamp higher, her feet slightly splayed.

‘Why do you keep saying my name like that?’ Cam asked gently.

‘Because it’s not a Jadan name,’ Shilah said with a huff.

‘I didn’t choose to be born Noble,’ Cam said, his face strained. ‘But I’m damn sure doing everything I can to make up for it.’

‘I know,’ Shilah said softly. ‘But you still don’t know what it’s like to be Jadan. You never will.’

‘I’m going to prove it to you,’ Cam said over my shoulder. ‘I’m going to show you that—’

All of a sudden the corridor ended in a wall with a large smear of dark red cascading from edge to edge. I didn’t need to examine the colour to know that it was blood, and my stomach tightened.

The Coldmarch was over as soon as it had started.

My machine was heavy; my foolishness weighed more.

‘Mama Jana sent us into a trap,’ I said, still oddly removed from the situation at hand. I stopped short, wondering how long it would be until we were cornered by beasts. I didn’t blame Mama Jana. Life was hard enough in Paphos, even for the lowborn Nobles, and everyone had to do what was necessary to survive. I didn’t blame her. I ached. Even with all the whips and stabbings I’d suffered as a Street Jadan, I had come to find out the worst sting came from betrayal.

Cam came up next to me, his throat visibly stiffening. ‘Is that blood on the wall?’

Shilah kept pushing forwards, swinging the lantern.

‘She’s probably keeping us down here until they arrive,’ I said matter-of-factly. ‘Then the hounds can rip our throats out without any fuss. I bet we’re worth half the Khat’s fortune, and Mama Jana will be set up for life. It’s smart, really.’

I held the Coldmaker closer to my chest, wondering how I could at least save the machine. Even if I was disposable, the discovery was of the utmost importance. If I had enough time, I could have used the metal corners of the machine itself to dig a proper hole into the clay where it might hide.

Cam unshouldered all the supplies he was burdened with, shaking the basket of figs. ‘But why would she give us all of this, if it’s just a dead end?’

‘It makes sense,’ I said, sniffing my arms and enjoying the scent of life for what might be the last time. Even beneath the rosemusk I could smell ash and fire. ‘Now they can do everything in secret and not worry about rebellion. Like the mistake they made with Matty.’

‘For someone who helped crack the secret to Cold,’ Shilah said, turning to me, ‘you’re being quite glum.’ She stabbed a finger against the red on the wall. ‘Alder. Also known as Alder of Langria.’

I paused, trying to remember how I knew that word. ‘Like the plant Leroi had on his table?’

Shilah nodded.

Cam gave a blank-faced stare.

‘Look closer,’ Shilah said, beckoning us forwards. ‘This blood spells out a word.’

Tentatively I stepped forwards and saw that without the cover of shadow the smears did indeed look like letters.

‘It says hope,’ Cam read, astonished. ‘How’d you know that stuff wasn’t blood?’

‘Because all Jadans know how blood dries,’ Shilah said, pushing open the whole wall with a single thrust and revealing a much larger chamber behind, dust clouding the air.

‘Huh,’ I said, my eyes having trouble taking in everything at once.

Cam nearly dropped the basket of figs. ‘Wow.’

‘Hurry,’ Shilah said, letting the wall close behind us and rushing forwards, practically ignoring all the sights before us that demanded admiration. The vast room itself was still encased in long clay walls, but unlike the crawlspace leading up to it, this chamber had overwhelming signs of past travellers.

The Opened Eye of the Crier was painted everywhere, in all different styles, drawn on with the same red alder as on the entrance wall. Hundreds of Eyes looked over the chamber and gave the room a hopeful air. Small assortments of trinkets and keepsakes sat along the perimeter of the walls, like shrines. Jadans were never allowed to own much, and even though the dust and neglect made it clear that none of my kin had been down here in a decade, the sense of creativity felt alive and electric.

There were makeshift dolls posed to look as if they were tearing off their slave-uniforms. And little ceramic bowls with gold paste filled the cracks around the shrines. Ragged sleeping blankets of all colours were pinned to the walls, making one broken, yet beautiful tapestry, while whistles carved out of broken cane sat poised and ready to sing. Broken hourglasses were fitted sideways so the sands would never fall, and links of rusted and shattered chains were woven between all the Opened Eyes. I saw a few taskmaster whips – obviously stolen – buried up to the hilt in the floor, as well as statues of ancient animals that must have been painstakingly chipped out of barrack bricks.

And prayers.

So many prayers, all carved directly into the walls. Words of thanks and fear and hope and pleas for guidance. They weren’t all written in the common tongue of Paphos, either. There were letters I didn’t recognize, ancient designs with tails and loops and dots studding the bottom lines. I couldn’t stop looking around at the words, stunned by how many Jadans had been down here; all hopeful, preparing to make the journey to paradise.

Cam plucked a Wisp off one of the shrine tables. ‘Someone left Cold behind.’

Shilah shrugged. ‘You’d probably give anything you had too, if you knew it might help keep you safe. Sacrifice is a big thing with my people.’

‘But Cold?’ Cam asked. ‘Wouldn’t they want to use it? It’s a long way North, and the Sun is even stronger there.’

Shilah shook her head, as if Cam was missing something obvious.

‘What?’ Cam asked, putting the Wisp back down. ‘Is that offensive to touch?’

Shilah looked at me, her eyes resolute. ‘The Vicaress can read, too. And I guarantee she knows the difference between alder and blood. We need to keep moving.’

I nodded, but a part of me wanted to read every single prayer down here, and touch every gift, thinking about the Jadans who might have left them behind. They’d challenged the Khat’s Gospels to try their luck in this Coldmarch. They must have believed our people were more than dirt, that we weren’t supposed to be slaves.