Читать книгу Coldmarch - Daniel Cohen A. - Страница 17

‘Sunlash and blisters,’ Cam said, hunching over as we reached the rocky face of the next hill. ‘How many is that now, Spout?’

I paused, trying to come up with something poetic. ‘As many as the freedom songs they sing in Langria.’

Cam tried to smile, but ended up wincing, his lips crimson and blistered. He had one of Mama Jana’s sunscarves wrapped around his head, keeping his delicate yellow hair tucked away. There were other shirts in the bag, but Cam insisted on wearing a green blouse pulled over his robe, as he claimed it let in more air.

‘I like that one,’ Cam panted, covering his lips with his fingers. Sweat dripped down both his cheeks, which had begun to freckle.

I nodded, continuing to hum under my breath with each step. I finally realized that I’d been humming the Jadan’s Anthem along with each step. It was the song Moussa, Matty, and I had created in my barracks, back when my childhood was torturous, yet somehow strangely whole.

The melody was sharp and painful. I didn’t stop.

Cam took off his glasses and wiped the sweat from the lenses. His red face and struggling frame made me realize how well my people had adjusted to this harsh world. How we had been forced to adjust. My skin was dark and leathered, hardened by the strong glare of the Sun, and I was still wiry from the years of scavenging the city for tinkering supplies. Even though Cam’s people were deemed ‘Worthy’, it was the Jadans that could withstand treks under a merciless sky.

‘How long do I have to wait before the next one?’ Cam asked, wincing against the Sun.

‘Not long,’ I said.

To pass the endless monotony, we’d invented the Game of Paces. Since there were really no landmarks to judge how far we’d gone, we decided to keep track of the steps taken. There was a distinct possibility that there was nothing out here, that the shack had been swallowed by the dunes or burned down by the Khat, and that we would need an escape plan. So for fun we matched our steps to certain things in the World Cried, starting with small numbers like figs in a garden and stones in the Pyramid. By the end of the first day we had reached things like beetles in Paphos and Jadan whippings. Now, on the second day of hard walking, our numbers were so incredibly high that we had to get creative.

Water rations were tight, and since we found nothing living in the sands, our stomachs had already begun to harmonize their grumbles. The hunger hadn’t been so bad last night, as we’d all passed out at the sight of good shelter – three huge boulders that came together to make a little nook – but it was hitting hard today. Cam had taken to chewing on strips of boilweed, and Shilah had begun to spend more and more time with her hand resting on her stomach. I’d been trying to keep track of how much water we went through each stop, and judging by the diminishing weight of the skins, I knew that soon we were going to buckle against the point of no return. The Sun was laughing at us, only getting stronger the further North we walked, its rays cracking down like fiery whips. The irony was that we had as much Cold as we needed, glorious, miracle Ice, but right now I doubted we’d have enough water to make it back the way we’d come.

I think both Cam and Shilah were aware of this, but they helped keep up the pretence, smiling through the dread.

‘That’s quite a few freedom songs,’ Shilah said with a raise of her eyebrow. ‘To sing that many they must not have stopped since the Great Drought.’

I adjusted the Coldmaker again, the machine heavy and the metal edge continuing to dig into my hip. I had a feeling I’d be walking with a permanent crook if we ever made it through the March.

‘I imagine that’s true,’ I said softly.

I rubbed the sore spot on the back of my head, looking out over so much dead land and consulting the compass Mama Jana had been savvy enough to put in our supplies. We were still headed due North, but the barren sands and rocks weren’t showing any signs of letting up. As far as I could tell, this was a fool’s journey. We would surely perish, and the Coldmaker was going to be lost out in the middle of nowhere, along with any hope for the Jadan people.

‘This is brutal,’ Cam said, wiggling his toes underneath his sandals. ‘It’s like I stepped on a pile of needles, and the Sun is trying to lick my bones.’

‘Welcome to life as a Jadan runaway,’ Shilah said, unfazed and standing tall on the flattened stretch of earth. ‘Enough of this suffering and maybe you will start understanding us.’

I had to admit it was a smart idea to have the Coldmarch positioned here, since no taskmasters would ever be caught out in this nightmarish terrain for no reason. The ground near Paphos had started as compact and easy, but the March had taken us across thick dunes, unstable rock faces, and the vertical climbs of the Drylands, all in the name of secrecy. I had yet to see any bleached bones sticking up from the sands, but I doubted all of the brave Jadans who’d attempted this journey had made it through.

The only benefit of this treacherous terrain was that the land here was not even, meaning frequent patches of cool shadow in which to rest. But all the shade in the World Cried wouldn’t matter if we ran out of water.

‘I bet they’ll have groan salve at this next stop,’ I told Cam. ‘Mama Jana said this Split is a Pedlar, and Pedlars have everything. You’ll barely feel the burns tomorrow.’

Cam nodded, taking a breath before standing up again. ‘I’ll call it penance.’

‘Maybe you Nobles just aren’t worthy of the March,’ Shilah said.

‘Shilah,’ I said, shooting her a stern look. ‘Stop. Cam is family, and he saved us both. Don’t forget that.’

She looked poised to argue, but bit her bottom lip, and eventually nodded.

‘And correct me if I’m wrong,’ I continued, the timing perfect. ‘But doesn’t that look like the tip of a three-humped valley in the distance?’

Cam gave me a thankful look, his glasses still in his hand. ‘You’ll have to describe it to me. Things are a bit fuzzy at the moment.’

‘Three humps in the rocks and sand,’ I said, smiling for what felt like the first time since we’d started walking. ‘Just like the alder writing said.’

‘Shall we celebrate with Cold water all round?’ Cam asked, his whole demeanour changing in an instant, looking practically giddy. ‘We earned it.’

Before Shilah or I could answer, Cam gave a frantic nod, answering himself.

‘Why, yes, Camlish, what a delightful offer. Thank you!’ He rubbed his hands together eagerly. ‘You’re most welcome, Camlish. You’ve always had the finest taste in celebrations.’

‘Fine, but not all of it,’ Shilah warned gently, rolling her eyes. ‘It’s been ten years since the Coldmarch shut down. We don’t even know if there’s anyone down in that valley.’

I reached into the Coldmaker bag, fishing for the side pocket where I kept the Abbs. ‘Maybe not, but if this Split is still around, then it’s another person we can share—’

My wrist exploded with pain.

I snatched my hand out of the bag. The sting was too overwhelming for me to even form a shout. My throat immediately closed up. Even though my tongue was silent, I could feel my arm howling.

‘Spout,’ Cam said, frowning. ‘You okay? You cut yourself?’

I was unable to answer. The shock was still registering, pain increasing with every rapid pump of my heart. My wrist looked normal at first, but after an instant, two puncture marks began to make themselves known, my dark skin rising and bubbling from the venom.

I dropped the Coldmaker far harder than I should have, the machine giving an angry clank. The canvas lips of the bag fell open, and a baby Sobek lizard skittered from the bag. It looked up at me unafraid, its tiny red eyes glistening in the Sun. The scales around its neck puffed up, as if readying itself for another bite, although I already knew a second one couldn’t do me further harm.

I was as good as dead.

‘Oh,’ Cam spurted. ‘Oh no. That’s really small.’

I snatched my wrist up to my lips and began sucking out the venom, my heart thundering and my head clouding with fear. Run-ins with Sobeks were common, and I’d been bitten before, but always by an adult lizard. The grown ones knew only to release a bit of venom in a single bite – meaning a night of vomiting and cramps for the victim – which was bad enough.

This was far worse.

Young lizards always emptied their entire poison sacs at once, not yet knowing how to control their portions.

Sobek lizards are a nuisance.

Their babies are assassins.

My tongue began to fizz with pain at the edges.

Shilah was quick, pinning down the creature with her sandal and cutting off the back half of its tail. Normally she was reverent of all living things, so I knew hurting a Sobek would not have been an easy thing for her to do.

Cam’s face scrunched in frightened confusion as the lizard skittered away, unharmed by the loss of its tail.

‘For the medicine,’ Shilah said, her face severe. ‘They say it’s always best if you mix in some of the creature itself.’

I tried to say that it was true, that Abb had imparted that same bit of wisdom, but words were no longer possible.

Cam’s face went mad, tearing at his headscarf. ‘What do we do? How do we make medicine?’

Shilah didn’t answer, pocketing the tail and rushing to my side.

‘Alternate with me,’ she said, bringing my wrist to her lips and somehow keeping calm. ‘Five spits each. I’m right here. This isn’t going to stop us.’

I nodded, feeling the Sun’s rays pulsing with menace. The baby lizard must have crawled into the bag while we were passing through the caves, as they usually didn’t stray far from water supplies.

But why hadn’t I noticed it until now?

Perhaps this was my penance: punishment for trying to change things.

Shilah wrapped her lips around the punctures. She sucked hard, and the pressure was excruciating, like a shard of glass being driven out of my wrist. She pulled deep five times, spitting after each, rubbing her tongue on her sleeve.

I took a deep breath and went to take my turn, but the pain was too much, the wound burning like hot iron, and I flinched away.

‘Let me do it,’ Cam said, coming over and taking my wrist. He took one deep pull of the poison and then started coughing violently. ‘It’s like burning coals!’

‘Move,’ Shilah said, pushing him aside. She looked me right in the eyes as she grabbed my wrist. ‘You’re going to be okay, World Partner.’

Her words were slurred, and I knew her tongue had gone numb as well.

I nodded, but my forehead wasn’t feeling as confident. I was heating up to a dangerous degree, beads of sweat falling into my eyes and sprouting all down my infected arm.

This was the end.

Cam breathed heavily, his face lost to fear.

‘Micah,’ Shilah said, gripping harder. Her words were slurred from the poison, but her eyes were focused and sharp. ‘You’re going to be okay.’

I pointed down to the valley with a shaking hand.

Shilah nodded with understanding and went back to work extracting the poison. She reached her limit after three more pulls, her lips flooding with colour and swelling. Scooping a hand against the ground, she sprinkled a layer of sand over her tongue and then angled my arm up.

‘Kpp it elvted.’ She spat. ‘Make th bld wrk to rech the wnnd.’

‘What can I do?’ Cam asked, checking the Coldmaker bag for more lizards before tossing it over his shoulder. ‘How can I help? Tell me what to do!’

‘Kpp up,’ she said, wrenching my arm and dragging me forwards.

We sprinted all the way to the middle of the three humps of the valley, my legs shaking. The pain in my arm was so furious that it almost felt like pleasure, which I knew wasn’t a good sign. My vision was starting to swim and everything had taken on a beige hue – something that had never happened with any other Sobek bite. Hope was quickly draining with each step.

Down at the bottom of the steep valley was a stout shack huddling in shadow. Attached to the side was a small wooden stable, a beige snout poking out, dipping into a water trough.

Is that a hound? I thought, trying to pick out any red eyes through the haze. Did the Vicaress beat us here?

‘You see that?’ Shilah asked, nodding down, clarity in her voice returning. ‘I think it’s a camel.’

‘It’s alive,’ Cam said. ‘Which means someone must be home.’

Shilah grabbed my wrist and drew out three more pulls of poison and blood, but I couldn’t feel her lips this time.

‘Yrr gong to be okay,’ she said, wiping her mouth.

My legs began to buckle. I turned to Cam, pointing to the Coldmaker, thinking maybe Ice could help. I was taken aback by the sight of my arm, which was riddled with sweat. Like the boiling bubbles that ran along the top of the Singe.

Shilah pinched the skin on the back of my neck, jolting me out of the fog. ‘Stop being dramatic. You’re going to be okay. I’m not going to Langria without you. And I’m going to Langria.’

She was stronger than I thought, or maybe I was stronger, because we made it to the bottom of the valley without me falling over and passing out, the land growing more solid the deeper we traversed. I knew I needed to stay awake, to keep from death’s alleyway, or I’d be gone forever.

‘No green mark over the door,’ Cam said as we stepped in front of the shack. ‘You think this is the right shack?’

‘Are you kidding me?’ Shilah asked, pounding the door with the palm of her hand. ‘You see any other shacks around?’

I wasn’t able to peel my eyes away from the stable. The snout poked out further, revealing a beast with kind eyes, accentuated with long, thick eyelashes and knotted tufts of fur awning its forehead. The creature reminded me of a camel, but it was much smaller, the tufts at its neck lumpier. It’s head only reached my chin, and it stuck out a pink tongue playfully, wiggling it in my direction.

I stuck mine out as well, but I couldn’t get it to wiggle.

Shilah pounded the door again.

‘You ever see one of those before?’ I asked my friends, smiling at the beast. I much preferred this creature to the hounds that were probably still on our trail. ‘I think it wants to be friends.’

No one answered me.

The words were only in my head.

‘The secret is tears,’ I whispered silently to the camel. ‘Isn’t that funny?’

‘That’s not the only secret,’ the camel responded, ruffling its furry neck. ‘I know your name.’

I laughed, wondering why only I could hear the little camel.

‘He doesn’t look so good,’ Cam said, snapping his fingers in my face. ‘Micah, you still with us?’

Cam’s face was a beige smear.

Shilah kicked at the door now. ‘Hello! Please, we need your help!’

The door opened just a crack, enough for us to find a very sharp arrow pointing at Shilah’s forehead.

‘No,’ a gruff voice inside the shack said.

‘Yes,’ the camel whispered.

Down at our feet a heavy smoke curled out of the opening of the door. The black cloud was like an old scar. A shameful part of me wanted to drop to my stomach and start huffing, as it would certainly make the journey to my death more pleasant.

What’s the opposite of penance? I wondered to myself.

‘We’re here for the Coldmarch,’ Shilah said, unafraid and standing tall.

The arrow lowered to point at her mouth.

A pause from inside, the smoke continuing to escape. ‘No.’

‘No what?’ Shilah asked.

‘That’s not a real thing. I never heard of no blasted Coldmarch.’

‘Mama Jana sent us,’ Shilah said. ‘And my friend here has been bitten by a Sobek. We need your help.’

The arrow shook. ‘He’ll live. Tell him to suck it up. Least it’s not a sand-viper.’

Shilah grabbed the severed lizard tail out of her pocket and held it up. ‘It was a baby.’

‘Well, you shouldn’t have been out in the sands if you didn’t want to get bit. Go back to your barracks and get medicine there, damned Jadans.’

Even through my fog of panic I found it interesting that he used the word ‘Jadans’ instead of slaves.

Cam nudged Shilah out of the way, stepping in front of the arrow and puffing up in the haughty way at which High Nobles tended to excel. I wanted to laugh, as the billowy green flutter-robes wasn’t helping to toughen his image.

‘Sir, I’m Camlish Tavor, first in line for my House, and I’m escorting these Jadans on the Coldmarch.’

‘No such thing as a Coldmarch,’ the voice growled. ‘Now take your spoiled, High Noble ass back to your daddy, Tavor.’

The miniature camel began grunting loudly in its stable, the overhanging tuft of fur on its forehead spilling into its eyes.

‘Hush, Picka!’ the man grunted. ‘Thisn’t none of your business.’

Picka, I thought with a grin as I wandered over to it, looking into its long face. What a fine name for a talking camel. Hello, Picka.

‘Hello. Thank you,’ the camel said with a smirk in its eyes. ‘Micah.’

‘My friends call me Spout,’ I said with a bow, wondering if the camel was pronouncing my name funnily on purpose, or if it just couldn’t make the sounds with its large, lolling tongue. ‘You can call me Spout. It reminds me of my father.’

Shilah caught me under the arms as I fell, keeping me upright. I glanced down and saw that my feet were now two large sweat bubbles.

‘Look, sir,’ Cam said, giving an arrogant bow. ‘I appreciate your discretionary behaviour, obviously a necessity for such a position as yours, but we know very well that you’re Split the—’

The arrow released, impaling the bag on Cam’s shoulder. I imagined most of our supplies had just been compromised in one single blow.

‘Drat,’ the man said with a menacing tone. ‘Missed.’

‘Please, won’t you help us, sir?’ Cam asked with a gulp.

‘No such thing as a Coldmarch,’ the voice inside warned, grunting a few times before another arrow appeared. ‘And I’m pretty sure I don’t miss twice.’

I wanted to reach out and touch the arrow to see if it was actually dripping with honey, or if that was just my imagination.

‘You dare threaten someone of House Tavor?’ Cam asked, aghast.

A silver token hopped out of the crack in the door, landing on the ground with the crest face up. I hadn’t seen a coin like that since the days of endless errands as a Street Jadan, and all of a sudden I was back on my corner, the Vicaress parading around a group of my chained, young, and scared kin.

‘You dare bother someone from House Suth?’ the voice inside said in an imitation of Cam’s arrogant tone. ‘You hold no sway here, boy.’

The camel gave a throaty grumble, broken in frantic brays.

The arrow pointed down at Shilah’s throat. ‘I’m closing the door now.’

Cam’s face was all fire. ‘Sir, I demand you lower your weapon and talk to us about the Coldmarch.’

The smoke at our ankles had stopped drifting out. ‘Scarabs on your shitty demands, Tavor.’

‘Please,’ Cam said, breaking into panic. ‘We went through the tunnels beneath her shop, we saw the red alder—’

‘Say it, Micah,’ Picka whispered to me. ‘Remember? You should say it now.’

I heard my father’s voice beneath the words of the camel, which was disconcerting, but didn’t stop me from taking the advice.

My throat opened just long enough to allow the prayer. ‘Shemma hares lahyim—’

The arrow swung to me, pointed right between my eyes.

‘You don’t finish that sentence, slave!’

At least the words were real this time, and not just in my mind.

More importantly I’d struck a chord, his words cracked with emotion down the middle. I had to use my tongue before it hopped out of my mouth and grew wings.

‘Shemma hares lahyim criyah—’

‘I mean it!’ The man was at full alarm. ‘Not another word, or I shoot!’

Shilah reached over and put a hand on my lower back to get me to stop, but I knew what I had to do, even if my vision was slowly narrowing to a pinpoint, and my arm felt as if it had been buried at the bottom of the dunes.

‘Shemma hares lahyim criyah Meshua ris yim slochim.’

‘DAMN EVERYTHING TO BLEACHED BONES AND SHRIVELLED TONGUES, FINE!’

The arrow disappeared and the door was flung open by way of a swift boot kick. The man stormed out, revealing a paunchy stomach, thin and wispy hair, and a nose that was craggier than our way back to Paphos. After closer inspection, I realized this man was also another beige smear. Everything was beige now, actually.

‘Fine. The Coldmarch is real,’ the smudge said. ‘I’m Split the Pedlar. Is that what you want to hear, you little brats? Years of peace you just upended. Now get your friend inside and—’

Beige went black.