Читать книгу Coldmarch - Daniel Cohen A. - Страница 11

I barred the door, threw down the shades, closed the curtain of beads, and dragged the nearest cabinet in front of the entrance, sliding it flush against the door. Closed Eye necklaces jangled on the shelves, and if someone pushed their way inside, the resulting crash would at least let us know we needed to find cover.

My pulse was in a frenzy knowing the Khat’s hounds were charging into the city.

The stories said that Sun blinded the hounds to teach them pain, leaving them to stalk their prey entirely by smell. And the stories said a lot more than that too. The hounds were supposed to have breath like hot fire, and fangs as long as any rattler, and could smell a specific Jadan body even lying in the dunes.

Sometimes back in my barracks, Levi would get hold of sour ale, and would tell the Jadan children about the other things that lived in the catacombs of the Khat’s Pyramid. Things worse than hounds, that didn’t need to smell you. They already knew you. Things that saw only through Closed Eyes, slithering in silence. Without warning. Without mercy. To drag you into the black.

I stepped away from our feeble defence of an unlocked door and single cabinet, knowing it would be all but useless against such foul beasts if they caught our scent. If only I had my old Stinger, powered by the scorpion venom I used to extract. If I’d only been able to get my hands on some of that explosive power Leroi had used to demolish the Tavor gardens, we might have stood a chance.

I tried to force a real idea that might save us, but I came up empty. Mama Jana didn’t sell weapons. Nothing that we could fight an army with. I glanced around at all the Closed Eye fashion pieces displayed on the racks: reminders that Jadans deserve to be oppressed, that the Crier himself condemned us when he took away my people’s Cold. As if eight hundred years of Drought wasn’t bad enough, we were supposed to cower constantly to the fact that it was our fault.

I had recently stopped believing a word of those old stories, but my father and Leroi were now both dead. In my mind there was no worse punishment than that, except maybe also losing the two friends at my side. The enemy was coming: my mind had to make that a reality.

Shilah’s eyes narrowed and swept the edges of the shop.

Cam stood over a basket of figs on the glass counter. Already a handful deep, he groaned with relief, digging into the food with the kind of reckless hunger that I’d only ever seen in Jadans starving in the streets.

It was odd to think that all of us, Nobles included, were just a few meals away from such desperation.

‘It’s not stealing,’ Cam said sheepishly, noticing that I was watching. His cheeks were puffed with fruit pulp, leaving his words hard to discern. ‘It’s survival. I’ll pay Mama Jana back when I can. She knows I’m good for it.’

‘I don’t think your people are capable of seeing it that way,’ Shilah said after a pause, her eyes still scanning the floors. ‘Plenty of Jadans have been killed for taking less than figs.’

‘Stop saying my people,’ Cam said, a seed bursting out and sticking to his bottom lip. He gestured around him, arms waving wildly, almost knocking over a can of Closed Eye badges. ‘Am I not here with you? Did I not sacrifice everything for our cause?’

For once Shilah looked to be at a loss for words, but I could see her wheels turning even from the thick of the shadows.

I reached up and touched my forehead. There should have been sweat.

‘What exactly are you looking for?’ I asked her.

‘It’s a long shot,’ she answered, still focused.

‘We need to find a hiding place until Mama Jana gets here,’ I said. ‘The Pyramid is not that far away, and the hounds are supposed to be fast.’

‘I swear,’ Cam said, flustered. He wouldn’t look anywhere other than the figs. ‘I’ve only ever seen the little hounds. And they can fit on your lap.’

‘That reminds me,’ Shilah said, stripping down to her undergarments on the spot. She was quick and efficient in disrobing, which in no way should have been arousing, yet I could feel Cam and I both seizing up at the unexpected sight. Bare skin wasn’t taboo for Jadans – our barracks were always stifling, making clothing a burden – but Shilah’s body was toned and lean, and even her intense scarring was attractive in its own right.

She was a warrior. Straight out of the days before the Great Drought, when it was still possible to battle your oppressors. Once it was decided that the Jadans were unworthy of Cold, the warriors disappeared.

You can’t fight the Crier’s will.

Cam audibly gasped, averting his eyes – although he didn’t stop chewing the figs. The room was shadowy enough that we were all mostly silhouettes anyway, but Shilah’s figure was uncomfortably striking, more woman than girl, the curvy areas accentuated by the glistening sweat. I looked away as my lips recalled the passionate kiss Shilah and I had shared after discovering the secret of the Coldmaker. I didn’t want to complicate an already dangerous situation with stirrings that only ever made young men like me lose focus.

‘I thought you were this great lover of women, Camlish,’ Shilah said with a snort, reaching for a yellow sundress on a rack and tossing it over herself, the bottom hem getting caught on her thick hair. ‘Romancer for the ages. I wouldn’t think you’d get shy around a little skin.’

‘I— well you—’ Cam turned away further. ‘You deserve respect is all.’

Even though her skin was darkened to a fine mahogany by the Sun, the Noble dress seemed to fit Shilah in more ways than one. At first glance I wouldn’t have been able to distinguish her from the kind of girl that dress was intended for. Her back was straight and sharp, regal in bearing.

‘You two do the same,’ Shilah commanded the both of us.

‘I’m already in noblewear,’ Cam said, finally turning back, threading a finger through one of the many gashes in his sunshirt, wiggling it against his stomach. ‘Ripped and nasty noblewear, I guess.’

Shilah grabbed two handsome sets of sun-robes from a display drawer, tossing one to Cam and one to me. ‘We change for the smell. That’s how the hounds find you.’

‘Aren’t we going to smell like us either way?’ Cam asked.

He was right. New clothes probably weren’t enough to mask us from the beasts. My stomach growled watching Cam scarf down all that food, but I was also used to hunger, and my body could wait.

Shilah began to examine the perimeter of the store, and I quickly changed into the sun-robes, the silk fabric pulling against my sticky skin. Hopping around Mama Jana’s main counter, I heard another horn call sounding outside, baiting the hounds. The noise was closer this time, but at least we were safe for the moment.

‘Not sure if this will be enough, but …’ I let my fingers peruse the biggest drawer. At first all I found were slips of parchment stained with writing I couldn’t understand and small clay urns.

Finally, the object I was looking for rolled into my palm.

I shook the glass perfume vial and glared up at the roof.

I always associated rosemusk with Mama Jana. ‘Fashion for the nose,’ she always said when applying the scent from this very bottle. She usually tipped out a dose or two whenever I was fixing things in the shop, and I knew it overpowered even the most obnoxious smells. I sometimes had to come straight to Mama Jana’s after performing rather unseemly tasks for other Nobles – Street Jadans didn’t get to pick the order of our errands – like cleaning up vomit from the alleys of the Imbiberies, or struggling to carry lumps of spoiled firefish out to the dunes. On times like those Mama Jana would leave the whole bottle of rosemusk out, uncorked. I think the gesture wasn’t so much for her as it was for me, however, as she never wrinkled her nose at the foul odours clinging to my slave uniform, and she often left the open bottle next to whatever item I was tasked to fix.

‘You think she has cool water somewhere too?’ Cam asked, looking into his waterskin with complete dismay. The temperature inside the room was stifling, but I knew Mama Jana had a store of water and Wisps under her nail-colouring kit. What I didn’t know was how soon the hounds might arrive to gnaw on our bones.

‘We should probably do this first.’ I unscrewed the rosemusk cap.

Cam nodded, tossing his ruined shirt onto the ground and snatching up the garment Shilah had passed him. It was a formal green silk robe that was far too big, the embroidered bottom billowing around his knees.

I raised an eyebrow.

‘This is no time for fashion,’ Shilah said. ‘Pour.’

I sent a stream of perfume down the back of Cam’s neck. His nose scrunched with a grimace, the scent overpowering. I dabbed my fingers on the watery puddle, and spread it down over his arms. The hairs lining his wrists were so fine they were nearly invisible, yellow and thin. As I was rubbing, I noticed how sunburned the backs of his hands had become, and I tried to remember if Mama Jana had any groan salve. His jaw went tense as I smeared around the wounds, and I could tell he was trying not to wince.

Shilah marched over and gave me a nod, Cam slipping back behind the counter. My fingers trembled as I tipped a thin stream of the rosemusk down the back of her dress, trying not to think of all that creamy brown skin. The perfume fell across her skin quickly because her back was so razor straight.

‘More,’ she said, her face as serious as stone. ‘And rub my arms too, if you don’t mind.’

I swallowed hard, seeing and feeling her flesh under my hands. As I spread the bright scent on her arms I could feel her radiating heat, and I could make out the individual clusters of freckles around her elbows. Her skin was rough with scars, sending a jolt through my heart, my movements nervous and jerky. The flaws in her skin made the liquid less easy to spread, and so I had to take my time, making sure I covered everything evenly.

‘Do my back too,’ she said without any hint of embarrassment, lifting her dress and revealing her muscled stomach.

Cam looked away, occupying himself by sifting through the rest of Mama Jana’s shelves, his voice more pinched than when our lives had been in danger. ‘Surely there must be a few Wisps lying around.’

‘We don’t need Wisps,’ Shilah said with a hint of a smile, looking at my hands and then at my face. ‘We have Ice now.’

Cam gave a nod of consent, keeping his eyes on the inside of the drawers. ‘You’re right, but it probably wouldn’t hurt to have some with us. So we don’t raise suspicion all the time.’

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.