I found no sleep that night.
I was too busy searching for salvation.
Dunes and I covered the entire Sanctuary three times, looking for Frosts. Each time though, I noticed the paintings of the beautiful Jadan women on the walls were fewer – Ellia and Ellcia having proceeded with their own mission. I didn’t know if the sisters were burning the canvases or storing them somewhere, but either way I left dealing with the portraits up to them.
Dunes kept his cudgel out at all times in case we found any lingering Nobles. I hoped we’d stumble across Ka’in, but I would have settled for any of the masked bastards; it would at least have given me an outlet for my rage.
We went into every room, secret or otherwise, turning out the entire place. Without a Frost, taking the Sanctuary meant little more than a slight delay in our deaths. If I was going to uncover the secrets of flight, to figure out a way to break the Drought, I needed a secure situation. I wouldn’t be able to focus on anything if my people were dying by the droves, having nothing to keep the Sun at bay.
Hours passed with no Frosts, although we did find useful items.
There was every kind of food imaginable in the kitchens. Loads of supplies were stored in salt barrels and Cold boxes, which would last the Flock months. We found an entire armoury full of weapons, including tar to burn and thousands of arrows to shoot. We found a library full of scrolls, ancient books and a magnificent collection of Jadan art from before the Drought. Apparently Ka’in was a collector.
There were fine linens, and three water-well reservoirs, and even an entire closet of musical instruments. A few harps rested in the back, and my chest squeezed at the thought of Leah with the strings. There were so many useful things that would bring joy and security to the Flock.
But there was no excitement for me. Food and supplies were just bandages, the wound underneath festering.
There wasn’t a single Frost anywhere.
It was maddening, especially since we’d discovered Ka’in’s Coldroom early on in the night. The cavernous space was filled floor to ceiling with different crates of Cold, meticulously separated by type. Thousands of Wisps and Drafts. Hundreds of Shivers. Dozens of Chills. All resting in golden chests with no keys. My heart leapt in my throat each time I easily picked one of the locks, expecting a Frost.
But there was only disappointment.
The last time I was here, Ka’in admitted to having a Frost. The confession had been accidental, but it rang with the sound of truth. And if Ka’in had admitted to having one Frost, it was likely he had several. But now that I had come up empty so many times I had to come to terms with three options, each equally disheartening.
One: Ka’in never had any Frosts in the first place.
Two: he took them with him as he fled.
Three: they were too well hidden for us to find.
Dunes tried to console me, assuring me he’d get me a Frost somehow, but my mood only soured as the night went on. Cam and Shilah joined the hunt, but their presence made me feel more ashamed. I should have been happy we at least had a defendable fortress and enough Cold to keep the Flock alive for months, but I could only concentrate on our inevitable demise. Without a Frost our revolution would end. Our power didn’t come from Wisps or Drafts or Chills or high walls. It came from the promise of change; and without the Coldmaker, our significance would eventually boil away.
I sifted through Ka’in’s private quarters for the fourth time. The rooms were sequestered deep in the basement of the Sanctuary. I insisted on being alone.
The Sun would be rising soon, but it couldn’t reach me directly through so many layers of shadow and stone. The air was luxurious in here, tempered by the Cold Bellows in the corner. There was a private drinking well too, its stone rim studded with tiny Closed Eyes made of clay. I tried to remove them, but they were cemented on.
Vials of precious honey were spread across a few pedestals; and dusty spaces glared at me from the wall, places where portraits of unfortunate Domestics had recently been torn away.
I slammed my palm against the wall by Ka’in’s bed, my bronze fingers rattling. I’d scoured ever inch of the room, hoping to find some secret hiding place. I was aware of the hate and anger festering in my chest, and of the voice that didn’t even sound like my own, whispering: You’re missing it. You’re weak.
I was unbearably tired. I’d never felt so frustrated. Violence seethed in my chest, like a nest of sand-vipers all tangled up and trying to bite their way free.
I didn’t even want Ka’in dead.
Dead meant the Sun-damned bastard might find peace. The Crier was supposed to be merciful and good, and there was a chance He might Cry a Frost for even the most despicable of Nobles.
I couldn’t let Ka’in have peace. I wanted Ka’in alive. I wanted to lock him in the belly of a Wraith and slam the lid on his screams. I wanted to flay his purpled skin and pour charged water in the oozing slits. I wanted to take all my tinkering knowledge and skill, and develop a machine so brutal, so terrifying, so precisely effective, that I might drive away every memory of the sick pleasures he’d taken at the expense of my people, replacing them with repentance. It would be an Idea so vicious that—
‘Micah.’
‘What?’ I didn’t turn around, continuing to wrap my knuckles along the wall. I was in no moment to see Cam’s pale face. To look at the fair skin and yellow hair that Shilah obviously found more entrancing than mine.
‘Leave me alone,’ I spat.
‘Spout.’
I narrowed my eyes and turned. Cam leaned against the door, his body hunched and tight, almost like a slave stance.
‘WHAT!’ I shouted, anger plaguing my words. ‘I’m trying to save us!’
‘I know.’ He recoiled. ‘But you can’t save us on an empty stomach.’
Turning over his palm, he revealed a plump orangefruit.
I finally broke.
He came over to the spot on the floor where I crumbled, and wrapped his arms around me. His body was warm, and I felt his heart beating through his chest in a calming rhythm. My head was tucked under his chin, and for a moment I knew relief from his soothing touch.
‘Shhhh,’ he said. His fingers were tight around my neck, pressing against my tattooed numbers. My father’s numbers.
Sobs wrenched from my chest.
‘It’s okay,’ he said softly. I could tell from his grip that he wasn’t planning on letting me go yet. I accepted his kindness, and by doing so, I could finally see the extent of the hole. It was there inside of me. It was so black and deep that it might take a thousand Frosts to fill. It might not have even been possible.
‘I killed them,’ I said.
Cam squeezed the back of my neck. ‘I know.’
‘Cam, you don’t understand. I killed them. They’re dead. I killed so many of them. I did things.’
His voice remained just as calm. ‘I know. I did too.’
‘You don’t—’
‘Shhhh,’Cam said, holding me tighter. ‘We were all with you.’
‘There’s something growing inside of me and I – I don’t know how –’ I sniffed. My face was on fire, and I was glad my nose was pressed into his chest so he couldn’t see my tears. ‘I miss my dad.’
‘I know,’ Cam said. ‘But Shilah’s here. Split’s here. I’m here. I’m always going to be here. Even if you try and push me away, or ignore me, or lump me in. There’s no way I’m going to let you save the world alone. I’m too vain and I need the recognition.’
I sobbed out a laugh. Cam smelled different than he used to. He used to smell like spicy flowers, and now he smelled like sweat and the deep sands.
‘I just want you to know,’ Cam continued. ‘You’ve done something good. Okay, maybe good is a tough way to see it, but you’ve done something right. Micah, you’re doing everything right. You are saving us.’
My voice sounded meek, like it used to sound after my first few whippings. So much had happened since the last time I’d felt the lash of a taskmaster, yet once again I felt small and vulnerable. Abb used to say that time was like the wind, pushing sand over all our pain. He said it could take hours, days, or years, but eventually everything would be covered. He was right in a way; but I also knew a strong enough wind could scrape that pain back into the open. I used to see bones in the dunes behind my barracks, back when I snuck out at night and dreamed of doing something more.
‘I just wanted to make things,’ I said. ‘I never wanted to hurt anyone.’
‘I know,’ Cam said, closing the orangefruit into my hand. ‘I wanted to be a singer.’
‘Huh?’
‘Yeah.’ I felt his shrug through my cheek. ‘I love music; you know that. I’ve always loved music. When the troops from Belisk would visit the Tavor Manor, damn, those were the happiest days of my childhood.’
‘I’ve never heard you sing,’ I said.
‘I used to. My favourite Domestic Jadan used to teach me. She had gray hair and big old cheeks that puffed out when she was frustrated.’ Cam touched his throat. ‘She showed me how to make my throat vibrate the notes without sounding like a warble. But my father caught me singing a song I wrote and he put an end to it. He said the arts were for those too weak to do something real.’
I sniffed, gently pulling away and wiping the snot from under my nose.
‘You know,’ I said. ‘Your father is a real asshole.’
Cam gave a dark chuckle. ‘You know what I’d say to him if he was here?’
I shook my head.
‘I’d point to the Coldmaker and say, “look dad, art”, and then I’d smash him over the head with a rock.’
I smiled, feeling slightly less dead inside.
Cam took out a fresh piece of boilweed and began wiping the back of my hands. He worked a gob of spit on the boilweed and then rubbed, the red stains coming away slowly. The Noble blood had dried on good.
‘I came to show you something,’ he said.
I was about to ask what, but then thought of a more pressing topic. ‘Wait. You wrote a song? How did it go? What was it about?’
Cam smiled. ‘A girl. What else?’
I got to my feet and brushed the creases out of my robes.
Cam pointed to the orangefruit. ‘So you going to share or be greedy? You know, I worked up quite an appetite myself. Big battle and all.’
I laughed and peeled the rind. I split the tender fruit in half and put a slice in my cheek. The sugary juice tingled and I wished it would stay forever. Silence passed as we ate, but soon an uncomfortable truth parted my lips. I had to look down at my feet as the words erupted from my heart.
‘She likes you, you know,’ I said. ‘Shilah.’
Cam paused, his body going stiff. ‘I – I—’
‘It’s okay. It was never our future to end up like that anyway. We have something different.’ My eyes flicked up to his with a small challenge. ‘It’s still special. Just different.’
‘Yes, um.’ Cam swallowed hard, clearing his throat and looking rather uncomfortable. ‘But seriously, I came to show you something. You should probably see this right away.’
I nodded. If he wasn’t ready to talk about Shilah, I wasn’t going to prod.
We left the room and he led me around dark corners, picking up the pace. Shadows backed away as we ran, a Sinai in Cam’s outstretched hand.
‘Is it Ka’in?’ I asked as he led me up a spiralling staircase. There was no one else around.
‘No,’ Cam said.
‘Tell me.’
‘You just have to see it.’
I shook my head with frustration. ‘That doesn’t help. Just tell me. Did the Nobles here raise an army already? Did someone betray us?’
‘No, but it’s interesting that that’s where your mind goes.’
I shrugged. ‘My trust isn’t easily won.’
‘You trusted the Hookmen immediately.’
I thought about it for a moment. ‘Dunes has kind eyes.’
‘What about me? High Noble and all. Why’d you trust me?’
I took the stairs two at a time, following after him.
‘I didn’t.’
‘What are you talking about?’ Cam asked, shooting me a perplexed look over his shoulder. ‘We did all that awesome stuff together. I took you to the apothecary, and got that music box, and didn’t we get chocolate?’
‘Cam,’ I said blankly, ‘I was a Street Slave. I had to do that stuff since you wanted me to.’
‘No, I know. But I could see it in your face. You were having fun. We were bonding.’
I looked at the back of my knuckles, which were now clean. ‘Yeah, I guess so.’
Our walk was brisk, not quite a run, heading to the balcony where Ka’in had set up the ropes. A place of Sunlight and darkness.
‘Speaking of bonding. Who’s your favourite of the Five?’ Cam asked. ‘Jia?’
‘You mean besides Dunes,’I said.
‘Obviously besides Dunes.’
‘Jia,’ I admitted. ‘Although it’s probably going to be Het if all of his warding actually works.’
‘You think they will? Doesn’t seem like you to believe that sort of stuff.’
‘No,’ I said. ‘It doesn’t.’
Cam shouldered open the door in front of him, leading out to the balcony. Light was just beginning to crest the far side of the world. The Sun would be rising soon. When it got high enough it would surely see the pile of dead Nobles at the base of the Southern cliff.
On the balcony in front of me, Shilah and the Five were silhouetted by the rising light. Their backs were to Cam and I, listening to some sort of commotion down below. Shouting clouded the air, but the voices didn’t sound mournful. I made my presence known with heavy feet and Shilah swivelled with the proudest face I’d ever seen her wear.
The Five snapped around to me as a single unit next.
Shilah was so skinny compared to the Five that she looked like a needle surrounded by swords, but still somehow retained the commanding air. The Coldmaker waited at her feet. It was out of canvas bag and catching some of the morning light.
‘Hey,’ Shilah said. ‘I wanted to wait for you before we say anything.’
‘Say anything about what?’
She waved me over next to her, making a space. Cam gave me a go-ahead look. I walked forward and took my place by her side, the noises becoming a little clearer. They sounded like conversations; like chattering in a marketplace.
Shilah looped her arm through mine and we walked up to the balcony together, taking in the astonishing sight.
Hundreds of Jadans were kneeling in front of the Sanctuary.
The bodies stretched out across the empty expanse, holding bags, tattered clothing and meagre possessions. Young, old, Builders, Domestics, Patch Jadans; there were so many of all different ages. They began to rise to their feet as they took notice of Shilah and I, rousing each other, their voices dripping with hope. Tears fell across cheeks.
‘Meshua!’ someone shouted.
One by one the Jadan arrivals rose to their feet. Their arms stretched out to us.
‘MESHUA!’
Those lurking on the rooftops must have spread word of our battle. Hundreds had apparently abandoned their barracks this morning, coming to us instead of going to their slave posts.
Shilah’s eyes were alight with hope and pride.
I turned to the Five.
‘Unlock the doors,’ I said. ‘Let them in.’
The Five bowed as one, Dunes bowing lowest, and then disappeared back into the Sanctuary. Shilah and I stepped up to the edge of the balcony. Down below, arms opened wide, eyes wept with joy and strangers hugged one another. Some of them had already drawn Opened Eyes onto their clothing. Some of the older Jadans dropped to their knees and kissed the sands.
All of a sudden our Flock numbered in the hundreds.
‘MESHUA!’
Things were changing.
‘MESHUA!’
I turned to Shilah and dropped my voice to a whisper. ‘You do the speeches, remember.’
Shilah laughed, opened her arms, and then launched our revolution.