My tinkershop kept me from going mad.
The place had everything I needed. Space to experiment. Thick walls that kept the clangs and churning confined. And enough materials that I could attempt inventing whatever idea called to me.
Best of all, however, was that the tinkershop had solitude.
I’d come to realize that time alone was as important to inventing as the materials themselves.
I had initially done all my tinkering out in the main chamber, set up so everyone could see and help. The Flock had watched me at my craft, and I’d answered questions about materials while I worked. I’d tinkered special requests like crank-fans and indulged Leah’s constant distractions of lounging beside my worktables and offering to hold things for me. Asking me if there was anything I wanted to hold of hers.
I was able to get about an hour’s worth of tinkering done each day.
After the first few weeks, I felt drained, disillusioned, and with my ideas waning with every moment my hands were idle. The confidence in me had congealed to insecurity. Everything felt as hollow as the passageways. Some days my chest was so tight that I couldn’t breathe, having to lay on my back and force my lungs to find air. I’d thought maybe it was a leftover sickness from the time in my life addled by Droughtweed smoke, but the episodes always subsided when I found my space. I had to turn Cam and Shilah down on multiple scouting missions, claiming I had to work on the Coldmaker, when really I was just filled with unrecognizable dread.
So one day I strapped the Coldmaker bag around my shoulder, took a few figs from the communal barrel, and headed out tired and deflated to explore the caverns without saying a word to anyone.
I came back with a plan.
Within hours, Cam and the Five had helped move everything through the damp caverns and into my new tinkershop. Metals, trinkets, vials, clay urns, gears, scrolls and countless other baubles salvaged during the night. Everyone knew where I’d gone, but the Flock respected me enough to let me pretend it was a secret.
I was able to disappear, and through the solitude, find myself once again.
Today’s session in the tinkershop started off as most others did, although how it ended would hold much more weight. In a few hours’ time, the Flock was either going to take the Sanctuary or end up back in chains.
I just hoped my Wraiths would be enough.
I began with my morning ritual of sawing chunks of salt crystals from the walls. The crystal cones were a beautiful pink, and didn’t release without a fight. I ground the salt down in my churning wheel or powder bowl, and the repetitive motion helped centre me. Often my best ideas came while I was churning salt, but right now I wasn’t searching for ideas so much as courage.
The Wraiths were ready. And they were the most vicious piece of tinkering I’d ever done.
The Crier help whoever got in their way.
Shilah entered the tinkershop, pushing aside the two shields that I’d bound end to end to form a door across the fissure. It was the only entrance or exit to my secret space. The shields were heavy and thick, useful for keeping sound inside.
I turned back to the salt wall, sawing another piece. There had been Opened Eyes painted on the crystals when I’d discovered the room, and I made sure never to defile any salt chunks with the symbol on them.
‘How you feeling?’ Shilah asked.
I gritted my teeth, the muscles in my arm straining. ‘Truthfully?’
‘I didn’t know you and I spoke anything else. Just tell me, Spout.’
I breathed a little easier at the sound of my old name. The teeth of the saw caught halfway through the salt. ‘I’m terrified.’
‘You stormed the Sanctuary once before,’ she said. ‘To try and rescue a certain someone. Someone who was in the process of rescuing herself, but was grateful for your timing nonetheless.’
I didn’t turn around. I was in no mood to joke. Smiling was a window, and I wanted to keep my fear hidden from everyone, including her.
Shilah came across the tinkershop and laid a hand on my shoulder. Her touch felt different from anyone else’s. There was no jolt of dangerous excitement like I got from Leah, but this was somehow better. Shilah wasn’t pressing into me. She was taking away some of the weight.
‘We’re going to win,’ she said. ‘Those bastards will never see it coming. And the Five are all eager to fight. Imagine Cleave barrelling down on you with a Wraith in front of him.’
‘That would actually scare me.’
Shilah squeezed me playfully in the shoulder. ‘The whole Flock is ready, and there can’t be more than fifty Nobles still in the Sanctuary, not with all those rumours we’ve been spreading. The guards are starting to give up and get confused, thinking that we’ve escaped to Marlea. Last time Cam and I went out, we saw—’
‘When was that?’ I asked, trying not to sound sullen. It was my own fault for not going, as I’d turned them down the last few times. But I had to work on the Wraiths.
‘Two days ago,’ she said.
‘You take Jia with you?’
‘Kasroot actually. He’s better at the sneaking. All that nervousness makes him extra careful.’
‘That’s good.’
Shilah paused. ‘What are you scared of?’
‘I’m not scared about the Sanctuary,’ I said, idly gesturing to the three stout Wraiths in the centre of the room. ‘We’re going to win.’
Shilah went over and ran her hand along the reinforced sides of the Wraiths. The design wasn’t terribly complex, but it was effective. More or less they were large transportable basins, able to spray out a terrible bit of alchemy. I’d covered the interior clay chamber with steel in case the Nobles tried to shoot at them with arrows. Clay could shatter. Steel would not. I almost chiselled Opened Eyes into the metal like I’d done with the Coldmaker, but decided against it. The Opened Eye was a symbol of hope and paradise. The Wraiths were symbols of pain and agony.
I kept sawing the salt.
‘Meshua,’ she said.
I turned around slowly, wiping my forehead, saw dangling by my side. Shilah never called me that, especially since we tried so hard to keep the Flock from seeing us in that light. I squeezed the handle of the saw tighter, a dense rock settling into my stomach.
‘Is that what you want?’ Shilah asked. ‘To be the legendary child of the World Crier? The invincible warrior that was sent here by prophecy to free our people?’
I swallowed hard. ‘No. You know that.’
‘Well then who do you want to be?’
‘Me.’ I leaned over the nearest table and rested my body weight on my knuckles. I finally let out a sigh that had been building over the long, sleepless night. ‘I just want to be me.’
Shilah came to my side. ‘So be you.’
‘But—’
She took my cheeks in her hands and made me stare her in the eyes. ‘Meshua is just a story, Spout. Just a pretty story to make us feel like there’s an ending to our suffering. It gives people comfort, but it also made them believe that someone is coming to save them. But you and I both know the only way our people are going to get free is if we save ourselves. It’s obvious that the Crier, real or not, hasn’t been able to intervene. Eight hundred years has made that very clear. Meshua isn’t real. You are real.’
‘Real can fail.’
‘Yes,’ she said, plucking at my lip with her thumb. ‘But a story has no chance of success in itself. Words can’t lift a single grain of sand. Stories can change people, but it’s only people who can manifest change.’
I lifted an eyebrow.
Shilah shrugged, giving me a guilty smirk. ‘Cam’s been having me read some of the old philosopher texts we found in the—’
‘But if we fail – not at the Sanctuary, but if …’ I felt my hands begin to shake. ‘You know what can happen as much as I do.’
Shilah took my hands and gave them a squeeze.
‘I assume you’re talking about the extermination of our people.’
I nodded. ‘Things are balanced for now. Terrible, but balanced. At least we exist. At least the Khat keeps us alive.’
‘Don’t you forget where you come from. Don’t forget like the others.’
I pulled up my shirt to reveal all the scars from when the Vicaress had tortured me. Shilah had saved me that night, and if not for her I’d be dead.
‘I know where you come from,’ Shilah said. ‘Just checking that you do to.’
‘When we win,’ I said, ‘when we take the Sanctuary and show our strength, the Khat’s not just going to roll over and accept our victory. He’s going to fight with everything he has. He’s going to send armies from all across the Khatdom, calling on forces we don’t even know about. He’s going to use every trick the Nobles have learned since the Drought. He’s got far better inventors than me in the Pyramid, and worse of all, he’s going to take it out on our families. You know that, right? He’s going to send his taskmasters into our old barracks and slaughter our families by the hundreds. To draw us out and make us collapse with grief.’
Shilah gave a hard nod. ‘I’m aware.’
‘He doesn’t need to keep any of the Jadan people alive,’ I said softly. ‘That’s the sad truth. He could kill every single Jadan, wipe us out, and the world would go on. Cold will still fall for him. Yes, the Nobles would have to do all the hard work in the Patches, and building the monuments, but that might be a sacrifice he’s willing to make. The Khat’s Anthem has a point. We only survived because of his mercy.’
‘Sun-damn screw the Khat’s Anthem,’ Shilah spat. ‘I’ve never even sung it.’
‘How is that possible?’
‘I don’t know, maybe I have. The point is that, yes, he could exterminate us all.’
‘And that doesn’t terrify you? That our small little Flock, started by me and you, might end up destroying the entire Jadan race?’
Shilah’s eyes sparkled with intensity. ‘Scares me to my bones.’
‘So then what if we fail?’
‘Exactly, we. What if we fail. You have me to lead beside you,’ Shilah said. ‘All this time I’ve been trying to get it through to you that you’re not alone.’ She toyed with her braid. ‘I thought Cam was the one with the thick skull.’
I kept my face flat. ‘He does have a big head.’
Shilah smiled, a secret begging to come off her lips.
‘What?’ I asked.
She glanced over her shoulder and then back. ‘What if we win? What if we’re the ones who end the Drought?’
‘I don’t know how to end the Drought.’
‘How many Frosts are in the Sanctuary you think?’ she asked.
‘Split thinks dozens. Maybe none, though.’
‘Even if it was only a few. Imagine having more Coldmakers while we figure out how to fly! Abbs everywhere, cooling water, and making gardens so big that we could all finally grow some fat on our bones. We could take in hundreds of runaways. The rest of the Jadans across the Khatdom would look at us, at our stand, and wonder how. Wonder why. How long has it been since our people have had something to wonder about? Terrible answers have been forced down our throat for so long, that we forget how to hunger for truth.’
‘Another old philosopher?’
‘Hell no.’ Shilah slapped her stomach, the firm skin resounding with a flat sound. ‘From the gut.’
‘You’ve thought this through.’ I scraped the salt on the pillar with my bronze finger and then brought it to my tongue. The tip stung. ‘I hope you’re right.’
‘When have I not been? And besides, you don’t think the Jadans of Langria didn’t worry about the same thing? About provoking the Khat? And they’re still there, still fighting.’
‘We don’t know anything about Langria.’
Shilah crossed her arms over her chest. ‘Excuse me, tinkerer, but I believe I created my own Little Langria once. You were there.’ Her eyebrow raised playfully. ‘You don’t remember the taste of my Khatmelon?’
I threw my hands up in defeat. ‘Right again.’
‘Damn right.’
At last, ease in my stomach. ‘You always know what to say to calm me down.’
She slapped me lightly on the cheek, leaving her hand to linger. ‘Enjoy it while you can. Tonight I set you ablaze. I want to see the Micah who trapped a hundred sick bastards into a room and Iced over their dead bodies.’
‘Can you kiss me?’
The words came out before I could think about their impact. I went stiff, but Shilah didn’t so much as flinch. It had been quite some time since we’d explored anything in the realm of romance, and it wasn’t something I dwelled over. There were too many other, bigger concerns to worry over.
‘Sorry,’ I said, heat rising to my cheeks. ‘It’s just that—’
Shilah shrugged like it was no big deal. ‘Of course I can kiss you.’
She leaned in and pressed her lips against mine. Her mouth was cold and wet, as if she’d just drank her rations. Our lips took a moment to stop sliding about before they held firm. She pressed hard, her hands coming to the back of my head and scraping through my hair, her fingernails massaging my scalp.
After a moment we parted and looked deep into each other’s eyes.
Then we began laughing.
It was simple laughter; of recognition; of connection. The chuckles came from our hearts more than our mouths, and it was a wonderful moment.
I didn’t feel a thing.
It appeared that neither did she.
I took her hands again in mine and gave them a powerful squeeze. ‘I really am so lucky to have you.’
‘I’m the lucky one. Also, I think Cam’s outside,’ she whispered. ‘Want to call him in so he doesn’t feel left out?’
‘Cam!’
Silence.
‘How do you know he’s out there?’
Shilah gave me an obvious sort of look.
‘Cam!’ I called, giving her hands one final squeeze before letting them go. ‘You can come in!’
A crown of golden hair popped around the shield-door. Cam kept his gaze averted as he entered, looking around wildly. I could see the pain in his eyes. There was unsteadiness in his step. He must have heard what we’d done.
‘Bigger in here then I remember,’ he said, surveying the decoy boxes, voice boomers, Cold-Charged clay urns, and every other thing I was in the process of tinkering. None were as impressive and menacing as the Wraiths.
‘Is it?’ I asked.
He nodded, whistling a soft tune and gently slapping a fist into his open palm.
‘What’s going on Cam?’ I asked, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
Shilah took another step away.
‘Just figured the three of us should have a quiet moment together.’ He ambled about the workshop, his movements rather awkward. ‘A lot’s about to change.’
He stopped at the nearest table to pick up a half-filled vial and examine the contents. He looked at the venom inside with a studious expression.
‘For the Stingers,’ I explained. ‘Going to top them off before tonight.’
He picked up one of the Stingers – one of my old weapon designs, more or less a dagger that could inject poison – by the long handle, examining the triangular blades at the end. Scorpions were more than plentiful in the damp, sprawling Coldmarch caves, and so I had enough poison to make a Stinger for every fighter in the Flock. The design was simple enough, back from the times in my youth when efficiency and ingenuity were the only things in large supply. But simple didn’t mean ineffective. Stingers could deliver a lethal dose of poison: their blades were sharp and their springs were tight.
‘So are you ready?’ Shilah asked. ‘There might be other High Nobles in the Sanctuary. Other Tavors.’
Cam gave Shilah a pained look. He put the weapon back down. ‘I probably shouldn’t have intruded. You two have the quiet moment and just find me later if you want.’
I wanted to say something to reassure him. To remind him that Leroi, the High Noble who’d taken me in and taught me how to be an Inventor, the one who’d died holding off the Vicaress so we could escape, was a Tavor.
I was about to open my mouth but Shilah beat me to action. She stormed through the tinkershop and grabbed Cam by the arm. ‘Get your bony butt over here, you whiny baby. You know I didn’t mean it like that.’
Cam looked down at his feet, his face red.
Shilah yanked him closer to where I was standing, sighing as she pulled. ‘I’m sorry. I apologize. I’ll make it up to you later.’
I could see the lump forming in Cam’s throat.
I lit a candle and filled three chalices with water, dropping a Wisp into each from our stockpile of Cold. The abbs were now too precious to use for drinking. I wished we could use Cold crossbows in the upcoming battle, like when we stormed the Sanctuary the first time, but considering the Frost’s shrinking stature, it seemed like the poor Coldmaker might only be capable of making a few dozen abbs more. We couldn’t stall any longer; we had to take the Sanctuary not only so we’d have another stronghold – one that could fit a lot more Jadans – but to harvest the Frosts hidden somewhere in its depths.
‘To a quiet moment,’ I said, lifting my chalice.
Shilah gave me a playful nudge with her elbow. ‘You can do better than that, Micah. Just think where we were a year ago. Just think about how the future free Jadans will celebrate our gathering.’
‘Then to a quiet moment with my closest friends,’ I said, tipping the cup towards Cam. ‘Who happen to be my family.’
‘Thank you,’ Cam said softly, staring at his feet.
I didn’t remember him ever being so distant. He’d been respecting my tinkering space ever since I told him I’d been working on something big. I tried to recall the last time Cam and I had spent time together and came up blank. He and Shilah had been spending most of the last week in disguise, inviting me out to ransack the city for materials, and I’d been a terrible friend, telling them to stay away.
‘Cam,’ I said, ‘I’m glad you’re here.’
He gave me a tentative look, pushing the golden rim glasses back up his nose. ‘Yeah?’
‘I was going to come find you anyway,’ I said, nodding towards the centre of the tinkershop. ‘I’m putting you in charge of one of the Wraiths. One for me, one for Shilah, and one for you.’
He cocked his head to the side. ‘I’m honoured. But I don’t even know how they work. I figured you were putting the Five in charge of them.’
‘Remember I told you I had that idea about enhancing the Cold Charges?’ I asked. ‘Or at least trying to.’
‘Of course,’ he said, looking away.
Clearly I’d forgotten to tell him. I wanted to kick myself for not celebrating the breakthrough with him sooner, especially since I’d figured out something that not even his cousin Leroi could.
‘I figured out how to make the Charge stronger,’ I said. ‘And turn it into a weapon.’
Cam gestured towards the three Wraiths. I nodded.
‘Sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. I should have given you more warning so you could practice, but I don’t think you’ll need it. They’re easy enough to use.’
Cam looked to Shilah for reassurance, and she gave him an excited nod.
‘It was always the plan,’ she said. ‘That’s kind of why I made that bad joke.’
‘Really?’
‘Really.’
‘I get to lead one of the secret weapons?’ he asked.
‘You were good with that Cold crossbow last time,’ I said, severity taking away all semblance of humour. We hadn’t talked much about the battle at the Sanctuary, and I wondered if Cam had been having an easier time than me processing it all. Those bastards deserved it for what they did to Shilah, but the ability to viciously kill was a serious thing to find out about yourself. ‘So if you think you can handle it.’
He straightened up and puffed out his chest. ‘Absolutely I can.’
Hurrying over to the middle Wraiths, he ran his hand over the front hose coming out of the body. The hose ran about an arm’s length and ended in a custom nozzle. ‘How does it work?’ He slid a finger across the inside of the nozzle and immediately let out a yelp. His whole body jerked. Reflexively, he went to put the burning finger in his mouth, but Shilah was already next to him, catching him by the wrist.
‘You don’t want to do that,’ she said.
Cam’s face clenched with pain. He stared at his finger, dancing back and forth between feet. ‘Shivers and F-frosts that hurts! It’s – it’s – it stings. It’s melting me!’
I rushed over to him. A clean piece of boilweed and the antidote vial were already out for exactly this. I wiped his finger dry with the boilweed – he winced and grimaced at the pressure – and then I smeared on my special mixture of groan salve, oil and wax. It took many burning splotches on my arms and legs to figure out a correct mixture to quell the sensation. My antidote didn’t take away the burn fully, but it dulled the sensation to a throb.
Shilah let Cam’s wrist go. She brought the slimy finger to her face to investigate.
‘What just happened?’ he asked.
‘Feel better?’
He met my eyes. ‘I’m fine. That was really painful. How’d you invent burning water? You mix in that scorpion venom?’
I waved Cam over to my clay urns where I’d had my breakthrough with the Cold Charge. I lifted the lid off one of the urns, but placed my hand against Cam’s chest as he leaned in to take a closer look. I’d learned the hard way that the fumes burned something fierce.
‘Really all I did was continue Leroi’s work,’ I pointed to the bowls of crushed pink salt next to the urns. Leroi used only white salts to mix when experimenting with Cold, but I don’t think colour had anything to do with it. It’s all salt in the end. ‘Okay, so remember how the Cold Charge works? The salt dissolves in the water first and then the Cold dissolves next. But they fight each other, right? Since they’re opposites. Salt being a product of death and Cold life, the mixture collecting the energy?’
Cam nodded, keeping his finger by his side. He kept twitching, and I could tell he wanted to nurse it. My skin had been sore for days after my testing.
‘Remember how Leroi had hit a point where the Charge couldn’t get stronger?’ Shilah asked.
‘Yes,’ Cam said, tapping his bottom lip. ‘Fifty-six Wisps. Thirty-five Drafts. Thirteen Shivers. Five Chills.’
I thought my jaw might hit the ground. ‘You remember the exact number?’
Cam shrugged, rapping his knuckles against his head. ‘Thick skull. It traps things I overhear.’ He wouldn’t meet my eyes. ‘Anyway. I’m guessing you dissolved in a full abb, and that’s why the Charge bites like a Sobek?’
Shilah gave him an impressed look.
I put the lid back on the urn. My nostrils were starting to burn. ‘How’d you know?’
‘I’ve learned a lot from you both,’ he said. ‘And that seems like something you would do, Spout.’
‘You’ve got a smudge, and you’re going to need to see this.’ Shilah took Cam’s glasses off his nose and removed a fresh rip of boilweed from her pocket, giving the lenses a polish. Cam held still but didn’t seem surprised, as if this wasn’t the first time she’d done this.
‘You’re exactly right,’ I said, going over to the table where I tinkered the bulbs for the Sinais – the lights that needed no fire, and ran on only the Charge. The table was covered in wicks, glass and raw materials, ready to be tinkered together. I grabbed a Sinai bulb already fastened on the long copper rod. ‘I dissolved in the abb, and it pushed the Cold Charge over the edge. I was originally going to try and use this new blend to power all sorts of inventions, but when I tried …’
I nodded to Shilah who slid the lid off the urn. I let the copper rod hover over the opening, careful not to touch metal to liquid. The fumes alone were potent enough.
The Sinai light sprung to life, bright and blinding.
‘Shivers and Frosts,’ Cam said, shielding his eyes. ‘What happens if you put the copper rod in the water directly?’
I nodded to Shilah who passed out a few pairs of tinted eyewear. She always seemed to know what I was going to ask her to do before I did. Next I strapped a pair of thick boilweed gloves over my hands.
‘Watch yourselves,’ I said, shoving the rod in the liquid.
The light became bright as Sun itself. It burned inside the glass, orange and white teeth gnashing their way out. Our eyewear was barely enough protection to keep from wincing, and after a moment the glass bulb cracked in half, fire shooting up from the filament.
I yanked the copper rod away from the water and everything calmed.
Shilah slid the lid back over the urn.
‘Wow,’ Cam said, taking off his glasses. ‘Wow.’
Shilah took her protection off as well. Char smattered on her cheek. Cam eyed it, his hand moving as to wipe it away. He thought twice, keeping his hand to himself, looking at his finger with regret.
I cocked my head to the side.
And then realization fell like a slab careening off the top of the Pyramid. It bashed me over the head.
How had I not noticed until now?
I was clearly the one with the thick skull.
‘And so the – Wraith,’ Cam said, looking away. ‘It holds a lot of the Charged water?’
I had to shake myself back to reality, my head fuzzy with embarrassment. ‘Yes. Wraith. Water.’
We all moved to the centre of the room. My legs were a bit unsteady, but not from fumes. I pointed to the different parts of the Wraith as I explained what they did, but my voice was droning. I couldn’t focus, too busy sifting through memories to see if there were any signs that I’d missed.
It was so obvious.
‘So the Charged water sits in the main body here,’ I choked out, tapping the reinforced clay. ‘The pump here on top has a tight plunger that lets in air one way and then compresses it into the body of the Wraith, into the water, and creates pressure. It can get pretty intense, since it’s airtight after I sealed the holes with Dybbuk grease. The hose in front has a lever on top here that releases the pressure and shoots the water out of the spout.’
‘Spout,’ Cam chimed with a smile.
‘Hmm?’ I asked, blinking a few times. ‘What?’
‘Your name,’ Cam said.
‘Oh right. Anyway, it’s all pretty simple.’ I pointed to the bottom of the Wraith, at the legs on bearings and springs, each sitting on wheel on the end. I’d made the wheels double-tiered and wide as possible, with rope nettling in between to spread out the weight over sands.
How did I not know about Cam and Shilah’s feelings for each other?
‘I put four spring-assisted legs on each Wraith so we can wheel them easier and quieter. They’re quite heavy.’
‘And how far can they shoot?’ Cam asked, wincing as he touched his finger.
‘It’s good,’ I said, missing his question. ‘Oh, they can fire the water about a hundred or so paces. And sorry you got some on you, but it’s probably better you know what it feels like.’
‘I’ve been shocked by it too,’ Shilah said, lifting up her shirt and revealing her stomach. There were patches of angry skin where she’d rubbed the Wraithwater away.
‘Oh no,’ Cam said, his face twisting with horror. He reached out to touch her but stopped at the last second, giving me a furtive glance. ‘I’m so sorry.’
Shilah gave a cool shrug, not looking my way either. ‘It’s okay. I wanted to know.’
I nearly collapsed into the nearest chair.
How had I missed the signs?
I cleared my throat. ‘The blast doesn’t last particularly long, ten seconds at most before it needs to be pumped again. But even if enemy has taken cover, or they have shields in front of them and we can’t fight them with arrows or swords, there’s really no way for them to protect themselves against the Wraithwater. And the shock doesn’t stop. I don’t know at what dose it’s lethal yet, but the burning can last for hours, only getting worse without the antidote. I imagine the Khat will hear Noble screams in Paphos.’ I pointed to the end of the hose, where I’d put the metal mesh cap that flips over the nozzle. ‘This is if you need to spread the stream.’
Cam nodded. ‘This is going to be quite the weapon.’
‘Only if necessary,’ I said, my throat burning. ‘I don’t want to use it unless we have to. But we might have to. We can’t lose.’
Shilah put a hand on Cam’s lower back. ‘Only if necessary.’
Another of Cam’s fingers went inside the hose, gathering up some Charged residue.
Shilah went to stop him. ‘Idiot! What are you—’
Cam waved her off, closing his eyes. He brought his finger out, his cheeks shaking as he stared at the burning skin.
‘I want to feel it,’ Cam said, his teeth clenched so hard that his jaw nearly locked. ‘My father always called me weak, you know. He always said that it must have been one of the Domestics he violated who gave birth to me, not my mother. It was a joke for him. He used to actually joke about that sort of thing. Jadans were just things for him to have fun with and toss aside.’
He breathed deep, staring at his finger with an intensity I rarely saw.
‘One day he caught me sneaking a young Domestic some leftover bread. She was shaking because she was so hungry. Our house taskmaster whipped her for something or other recently, and so I snuck her down to the kitchens and brought her back some bread and Cold water to her quarters. My father strolled in just as she was eating the last piece, but honestly he didn’t seem surprised, almost like he planned the whole thing. He grabbed us both by the arms and took us into the garden. I was ten at the time. I think. And the Domestic was twelve maybe? I don’t remember everything to be honest. I remember the heat the most. How angry the Sun was.’
Shilah picked up the antidote vial and a clean strip of boilweed, trying to grab Cam’s hand, but he stopped her. Tears formed at the corners of his eyes.
‘But my father was smiling. He told me “Camlish, today is the day I finally teach you how to be a Tavor. You’ve made a mistake, and you have to fix it. That’s what High Nobles do.” I was young, and of course looked up to my father then. He didn’t seem so angry, and I just nodded and told him I was sorry. That I’d do whatever he said. He told me to simply get the bread and water back, then I could go. I didn’t know what he meant, so he took the Domestic and wrenched open her mouth and pressed his fingers on the back of her tongue. He pulled his hands away right before she started gagging. “Like this,” he said. “Get the bread and water back.” I shook my head, and then he took out his knife. “You get the bread and water back or I cut it back.” Again, he was smiling.
‘I shook my head, confused. So quick that I barely saw, he sliced into the skin of her stomach, just enough to draw blood. I remember thinking how the red blended with her dark skin. My skin was so pale, and blood was always so apparent if I cut myself. The girl didn’t scream at all. She just gave me a pleading look. My father cut into her again. Eventually I relented, yelling for him to stop. And so my father held the poor girl’s hands behind her back and I shoved my fingers down her throat until she gave back the bread and water. She vomited and gagged as softly as she could, and most of the bile splashed on my feet. I was crying and I took my hand away, wiping it on my shirt. “All of it,” my father said calmly. And so I choked her again. I made her give back the bread and water. After she was empty he gave her a soft pat on the head and sent her on her way. I never saw her around the manor again. I never asked about her. I was too ashamed.’
‘Cam,’ Shilah said softly.
‘You say we should only use this weapon if necessary,’ Cam said, staring at his finger, his eyes burning with sorrow. ‘I say it’s been necessary for a very long time.’